Final Inquiries by Roger MacBride Allen Page A

security liaison office at this embassy, I was assigned to it."
    "Kendari-human liaison office? To do what?"
    "It is a joint office, staffed by Kendari Inquiries Service Inquirists and human Bureau of Special Investigations agents, who work together so as to prevent undesirable incidents."
    "Hold it!" Hannah protested. She stabbed a finger up at the swelling bulk of the planet. "There are BSI agents at the human embassy already?"
    "Yes," said Brox. "Three of them."
    "Then why did you send for us ?" Hannah demanded.
    But Jamie knew. "Because they're all suspects," he said. "Or because they're all dead. Whatever happened killed them all."
    Brox was silent for a moment before he answered, in a flat, careful, neutral voice. "They are not dead," he said.
    "This just got worse, Brox," said Hannah. "Much, much worse."
    "I agree," said Brox.
    Jamie looked at Brox, at Hannah, at the planet looming ever larger overhead, and knew the question he had to ask. "But it's going to get even worse than this, isn't it, Brox? How much worse will it get?"
    Brox said nothing, did nothing, showed nothing.
    It was the loudest silence Jamie had ever heard.

FIVE
    ESCORTS
    Ambassador Berndt Stabmacher peered out the window--or more accurately the porthole--of his living quarters aboard the grounded United Human Government Embassy Ship Kofi Annan. Of course, "living quarters" wasn't quite accurate, either. What the devil did you call it when you ordered your entire staff--and yourself--into solitary confinement in the various small and impossibly cramped compartments aboard a grounded spacecraft that served as your embassy's emergency evacuation system?
    Ignoring the spectacular view of the Grand Warren on the horizon, he scanned the skies instead. There wasn't any way to know from which direction they would come, or even if they would come at all--but what else was there to hope for? There wasn't any, couldn't be any, Plan B. He had barely been able to convince Diplomatic Xenologist Flexdal 2092 to accept the current proposal--or, as he had no doubt Senior Special Agent Milkowski would put it, the current humiliation.
    Never mind. Stabmacher was more than willing to risk his career and his life--all their careers, all their lives--in exchange for preventing a war. To stop such wars was the very essence, the core purpose of diplomacy. Especially a needless and pointless war that would likely have no winners and many losers.
    No winners? Maybe that wasn't quite true, if you took into account the groups that sat back and watched the opposing sides cripple each other, possibly even destroy each other. No one could stop them from scooping up everything the combatants hadn't managed to destroy.
    He turned from the porthole, sat down at the tiny foldout desk, and blinked vacantly. He was tired. Exhausted. Worn to a nub. He yawned mightily and scratched at his bristly chin. There were a fold-down sink, a fold-down couch, and some amazingly awkward sanitary arrangements in the compartment, none of them anywhere near satisfactory. He longed for a proper night's sleep, or even just a nap. He wanted a meal, a shower, and a shave, and not necessarily in that order. But such things were trivial. A day or two of confinement and discomfort would be a remarkably small price to pay, a real bargain, if it stopped a war before it started. A very small price indeed, Ambassador Stabmacher told himself.
    But someone had already paid a far higher price.

    The command sphere broke through the bottom of the highest cloud deck and flew into clear air at about ten thousand meters, though a lower layer of clouds hid the ground from view.
    At Brox's suggestion the three of them had moved out to the perimeter of the sphere, where their view of the horizon would not be blocked by the banks of nameless machines. With the outer hull of the ship turned transparent, the world was on display at their feet. They could see everything--but at the moment, all "everything" amounted to was the