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"I’m not asking anyone in this room to abandon the values that brought them here. But no one came here with the goal, or even the thought, of wiping out another civilization. If you believe there can be no sentient life on the far side, take the opportunity to prove yourself right. If you harbor even the slightest doubt, take the opportunity to gather more information.

"We’re not asking you to wait for certainty. The far side is too large; however advanced our techniques became, there’d always be a chance that a part of it remained hidden. But after six centuries in which the border has been completely opaque, and a few weeks in which we’ve managed to see through it a very short distance, we’re asking for one more year of exploration. We might never find out what’s at stake here, but now that we have our first real chance to do more than guess, I don’t believe we have the right to shut our eyes and refuse to look any closer.

"Thank you."

Tchicaya backed away from the podium. He hadn’t felt too bad while he was speaking, but the discouraging silence that followed turned his stomach to water. Maybe the Yielders had merely decided to present the enemy with their best poker face, but the effect was still one of indifference verging on hostility. He instructed his Exoself to calm his body; whatever sense of urgency he’d managed to convey by allowing his stress hormones free reign, the effect had either succeeded or failed by now.

Tarek said, "Questions and comments."

Birago rose to his feet and addressed his former colleague. "The vendeks appear genuine to me, and I doubt that you could have engineered them into existence without us noticing. I’m much less confident about this so-called signaling layer. How do we know you didn’t create it?"

Rasmah replied, "I’m not sure what you expect me to say. I suppose you could move the Right Hand away across the border and look for an edge to the layer, then see if the whole thing lies centered around the Left Hand. But if you seriously believe that we were skilled enough to create the layer at all, maybe you believe we could have disguised its point of origin." She spread her arms. "Look more closely, gather more evidence. That’s exactly what we’re asking for, and if you have doubts, that’s the only cure for them."

Birago laughed curtly, unimpressed, but he resumed his seat.

Tchicaya had come prepared for accusations of fake data, but the idea that anything indisputably present behind the border could be taken as counterfeit had never crossed his mind. If the Preservationists did have spies, surely they’d know how ludicrous this was? But then, spies would probably only share that knowledge with people who would not be swayed by it.

Sophus stood. "I’ve studied this question, and I don’t believe the layer could have been built from the Left Hand without us noticing, any more than the vendeks could. This thing is genuine, and it needs to be investigated. I came here to preserve civilizations, not to destroy them. The chance that we’re seeing intelligence here is extremely slim, but this is a matter of the utmost seriousness.

"I support the idea of a moratorium. This need not be lost time for us; we don’t have to stop thinking, we don’t have to stop planning. A year in which we were forced to consider our next step very carefully — in combination with all the information about the deeper structure of the far side that might be gained as part of this investigation — could easily save more worlds than it costs. The border is expanding at half the speed of light; the success of any attempt to halt or reverse it will be extremely sensitive to the propagation speed of the agent we finally deploy. Rushing to adopt the very first solution we think we’ve found, when we could be refining it into something vastly more effective, would be a shallow victory. If we can clear our conscience of any lingering doubt that we might be committing an atrocity, while continuing to hone our weapons against this threat, we will be steering an honorable course between arrogance and timidity — between laying waste to whatever lies before us, and jumping at shadows."

Sophus took his seat. Tchicaya exchanged glances with Rasmah; they could not have hoped for a better ally. Tchicaya was glad, now, that he hadn’t raised the same benefits for the Preservationist cause himself; they sounded far more credible coming from Sophus, and hearing them first from the opposition would only have put people off.

One of the recent arrivals spoke next. Tchicaya had never been introduced to her, but her signature named her Murasaki.