Kori’nh bowed his head. “Agreed, Chairman Wenceslas. I have unfortunately had recent firsthand experience with the enemy.”

Basil’s eyes widened. He had not known this. “You were present at the Qronha 3 attack?”

“Yes, Chairman. I… survived. Many others did not.”

Their pace quickened. “We must discuss how the Earth Defense Forces may combine with your Solar Navy in defense against these terrible aliens.”

“If the attacks continue,” Kori’nh said.

Basil drew a deep breath. “Adar, you know as well as I that the attacks will continue.”

Kori’nh led them to a private grotto with stained-glass walls that glowed like jewels on fire. Diminutive attender kithmen hurried into the room bearing the levitating chrysalis chair, as if it were a palanquin. Basil assessed the grublike Mage-Imperator, an obese man who had, by all accounts, never left the womblike throne since his ritual castration nine decades earlier.

After introductions, Basil folded his hands in front of him. “Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h, I apologize for not knowing the expected conventions in your culture. What is the appropriate greeting for a leader of your stature?”

The Mage-Imperator’s chubby face was like a baby’s, completely unreadable—seemingly gentle, yet somehow intimidating. “In Ildiran culture, supplicants endure many days of purification and make a ritual ascent around the citadel hill of the Prism Palace, washing themselves in the blessed canals. That is how my people come to request an audience with me.”

His eyes narrowed into folds of fat. “However, Chairman Wenceslas, our time is short. I expect only that you greet me with respect, as you have done. It is best if we do not attempt frivolous imitations of each other’s culture.”

“Thank you for that concession, sir,” Basil said. Did the Ildiran leader truly expect the Chairman of the Hanseatic League to treat him as a god? “I wish our meeting were taking place under better circumstances.” He decided to move quickly, speak bluntly. Behind closed doors in private conferences such as this, powerful men usually had little patience for flowery evasions. “The Ildiran Empire and the Terran Hanseatic League are faced with a common enemy, and the time has come for us to discuss cooperation and mutual assistance.”

The Mage-Imperator studied him. His voice was wary. “I am listening, Chairman.”

“Both of our civilizations have grown large and powerful,” Basil said. “Although we took different paths to our success, we each still build upon the greatness that already exists.”

The Mage-Imperator looked skeptically at his human counterpart. He seemed annoyed. “Ildirans have already reached our pinnacle of culture, and we are content. We have no desire to climb upward into an empty sky.”

The alien leader seemed to be testing the Chairman’s mettle. Basil responded, “How else does one reach the stars, Mage-Imperator, but through continued climbing?”