"But why?!" demanded Minister Zhou. "Why are you helping? What do you want?"

Tausson closed his eyes, wishing he could have shot this exasperating woman back in the conveyance chamber like he'd almost done.

She's only trying to protect her people, he repeated to himself for what must have been the hundredth time since they'd conveyed back to the Irral.

"A trade," said Tierney.

Miss Dawson. She's just Miss Dawson.

Clenching his fists, Tausson fought the sparks that ran through his body every time she spoke. He couldn't afford another humiliating call from Aspri. At least the humans hadn't understood the Senior Medic when he asked why Tausson's blood pressure was up and his hormones were surging, but Carterra certainly did. She may be his most loyal crew member, but if he continued acting like a child coping with the frenzy, even she would start to think he was unfit.

"I doubt we have anything to offer these folks," said Vice President Grant, looking at Miss Dawson.

The mockery in his voice was faint, but noticeable. Before Tausson could succumb to the temptation to see how this insult affected her, he stood and turned his back to the table. Carterra moved close beside him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, speaking softly, although her translator was off.

He suspended his translator as well before admitting, "I'm losing focus."

Carterra nodded. "I was afraid viewing Shoshu would disturb you. Would you like me to take over?"

Yarkinda. She thinks I'm distracted by Yarkinda.

He almost corrected her, but then realized this was a better cover for his behavior. Though it shamed him, he let her believe the lie.

"Something wrong?" asked the Vice President.

Tausson reached deep within himself, seeking the steel that ran through him for support. Straightening up, he put a reassuring hand on Carterra's shoulder and faced the humans.

"First and foremost," he began, "our motivation is one of philanthropy. The universe is a vast yet barren place. Species such as yours are rare, and must be given the opportunity to thrive and enrich your galaxy."

A quick glance around the room revealed that no one believed him. As usual, Minister Zhou wore her hostility proudly. Director Willoughby and President Moroka showed little more than guarded skepticism, while Vice President Grant watched him sharply, though with his perpetual faint smile.

Miss Dawson's reaction was the most unexpected. Though she had revealed some emotional volatility in the free room, during both the sightscreen conference and the in-person meeting she had illustrated the same wisdom as President Freeland: neither had spoken heedlessly, and neither had allowed their expressions to betray their thoughts.

Now, however, Miss Dawson's feelings were being clearly communicated. Bitter disbelief clouded her enchanting eyes, and the corners of her mouth were pinched in a frown that still couldn't detract from the allure of her painted lips...

Snapping his head down, Tausson tried to recall the speech he was supposed to give. It had been almost a year since he'd spoken these words, a year since he'd tried to convince an entire planet that the Relicans wanted to help.

A year since Yarkinda.

With the subtlest of coughs, Carterra cleared her throat. If he didn't speak soon, his First would have to take over. He couldn't lose face like that during the negotiations, not when so much was at stake.

"Miss Dawson is correct," he said, leveling his gaze on the Vice President. Tausson felt a small, inconsequential victory when the man's superior air deflated somewhat.

"Trade? What kind of trade?" snapped Minister Zhou.

"Resources?" asked Tierney.

"That is often the case, but not with such a small window until collision," Tausson said, chancing no more than a polite nod in her direction.

"Then what do we have that is of value to you?" asked Director Willoughby.

"And don't say our women!" Vice President Grant said with a laugh.

Even though it was clearly meant as a joke, Tausson couldn't help the shock that flashed across his face. He turned to First Arrat and saw the same surprised expression.

"Oh my god," Miss Dawson gasped.

Minister Zhou leapt from her seat, covering her chest with her arm, as if it were her Tausson had been inadvertently leering at all afternoon. "We will not be slaves to you!" she shouted. "We are not slaves!"

Director Willoughby, his eyes fearfully darting between Tausson and Carterra, said, "Commander, our culture is packed with speculation regarding our first encounter with alien life forms, and kidnapping human women for sexual slavery is often a recurring theme."

"If this is your intent," President Moroka said, standing, "you must know that our people will never agree to such a trade. We will protect our sisters and mothers with every weapon in our arsenal."

"Now hold on, wait just a minute," said the Vice President, giving another laugh, "don't jump to conclusions. It was just a joke -- a bad one. Let the commander speak."

Tausson bristled as Vice President Grant waved for him to continue, but he hid his anger beneath a mask of sorrow.

"The Relicans are an ancient race," he began, finding refuge in the familiar words. "We emerged from the soil of Relica ten billion years ago, and mastered space flight six billion years ago -- before your planet was even born. As our technology advanced and we explored deeper and farther into our universe, we found millions of worlds, but no other sentient life. Nothing. Vessel after vessel returned with the same conclusion: we were alone in the universe."

He met the gaze of each of the humans, except Miss Dawson. "Our people grew hopeless, purposeless. Wars broke out across Relica, lasting centuries. Our population fell from billions to thousands."

The rhythm of the tale was calming him, bringing him back to the mission. He found his focus returning, his mind clearing.

"Until one day, a ship, the Erral, landed in the center of the fallen capitol. The Relican vessel, which was the last to leave Relica and presumed destroyed after being gone for more than sixty years, had returned. It had a visitor on board: an alien from another planet."

"Just answer the question!" snapped Minister Zhou. "Are you here for our females or aren't you?"

Before Tausson could reply, Vice President Grant intervened. "Minister, if Commander Corwin wanted to whisk away our women, he could easily do so, as was so vividly demonstrated by our transport to his spacecraft. The fact that we're sitting here is evidence of his desire to negotiate. Give the man a chance to explain himself."

The Minister narrowed her eyes at both of them, but remained silent.

Although it pained him to do so, Tausson nodded in appreciation to the Vice President and continued. "The Erral landed in the capitol, a crumbling city that was at the heart of a raging battle at that very moment. Amid deadly shockfire, the Erral commander called out to those present -- to all sides -- announcing the discovery of sentient life, declaring that the Relicans were not doomed to live in isolation. Most joined him, and fought by his side for peace instead of war, but it still took years for the fighting to end, and by then our kind was truly in danger of extinction."

Understanding was dawning in the humans' eyes -- understanding, and fear.

"The alien who had joined the Erral crew, a Quincaña, was of a similar biology, and had in fact already been impregnated by the commander. A delegation was sent to request that an alliance be formed between the two peoples, and cemented by the mating of one hundred male Relicans with one hundred female Quincañas. Because the Erral had previously saved them by destroying a class one asteroid that would have impacted the Quincaña home world, the alien race was more than happy to oblige. Volunteers were selected from both sides, and the Relican race began its long journey to recovery."

Though he felt far more centered, Tausson still found it difficult to look at Miss Dawson. There was nothing to be ashamed of -- this was the story of why he was here, of what his race needed to survive -- and yet, for the first time in his career as a first contact mission leader, he felt a hot knife of shame in his heart.

"Since that first alliance with the Quincañas, over a century ago, the Relicans have continued our search for sentient life, but with a greater purpose than simply mutual awareness. We now seek to create permanent bonds with these species, forming a network of peaceful affiliation that spans the universe, and symbolizing those unions with shared genetics."

"So you are going to take human women!" barked Minister Zhou.

"We ask only for volunteers," Tausson said, "ideally a few hundred, from which we could select the hundred most compatible candidates."

"Will you save us even if we don't supply you with volunteers?" asked Director Willoughby.

"Asteroid Mates are revered in our culture, and enjoy luxurious, untroubled lives," replied Tausson. "They are not prisoners or slaves," he cast a pointed look at Minister Zhou, "and they may terminate their pairing at any time. If you extend our offer to the roughly four billion females on your planet, I'm certain we will not be wanting for volunteers."

"You didn't answer the question," said Miss Dawson.

As focused as he was on convincing them, Tausson had nearly forgotten the hold she had over him. Instinctively he met her gaze, and it pierced him, deeply. Her smoldering eyes bored into him, probing him until it was as if she had seen every unspeakable fear and desire he had ever known.

She's beautiful when she's angry.

The thought startled him with its power and certainty. Though he instantly tried to deny it, attributing it to stress or fatigue, it hung there, fluttering in the air between the two of them, keeping his eyes fixated on Miss Dawson.

"Well?" demanded Minister Zhou.

"As I said, the Erral -- I mean, the mates..." Tausson stumbled, unable to regain the clarity he'd experienced just moments earlier.

"We've never encountered a situation where volunteers were not happy to come forward," said Carterra, coming to his rescue. "If the message is delivered to your people properly and honestly, there is no need for confusion or fear."

"That's still not an answer," said President Moroka.

"It's all the answer we need," said Vice President Grant, getting up and slowly walking towards the head of the table to stand beside Tausson and Carterra. "Let's do our part and at least put the request out there. These fine folks are offering to relocate a whole planet! Are you saying we're not willing to at least relay their request?"

Tausson didn't like Vice President Grant. He talked too much, smiled too much, and he said too much of what they wanted to hear to be telling the truth. But right now, Tausson was grateful that he was there, and grateful that one of these humans was at least pretending to be on his side.

"Thank you, Vice President Grant," he said. Addressing the room, he added, "And thank you all, for accepting our invitation when you had every reason to fear and mistrust us. I hope that after what you've seen and heard today, you can return to your people with our message of peace and brotherhood."

Director Willoughby started to speak, but Tausson raised a hand to silence him. "I know you have more questions, and any questions you have will be answered by either First Arrat or my Planetary Officer, Elic. But I would request that you return to your planet and discuss what you've learned with your peers."

Casting a dark look over them all, he went to the conference room hatch. "Do not tarry in your decision, however," he said. "Your days on Earth are nearing their end. The Relican Squad is capable of evacuating your entire planet's population, but we cannot relocate more than seven billion people in a matter of days. We need -- at a minimum -- 26 days to transport all of humanity off of Earth."

At their horrified gasps, he continued. "Four days. That is the margin for error. That is the difference between saving all of your people, or sentencing them to death."