Hearing it, the jugglers let their fruit fall to the spongy, moss-covered ground. Dorian and the Zil sprinted for the Dome.

 

Ambassador Tudela stormed through a low arch, straightening as soon as he was out. He shouted, "Of all the cold-blooded... slave trade! My God! If this doesn't push us to war, nothing will!" With the eight other negotiators, he pushed past Dorian.

 

The Zil hopped after its ambassador, who was bounding in the opposite direction, squeeking like a dolphin.

 

Dorian stared after them. Tyrel's chains jangled softly in the dense, humid night air as he stopped with a heavy rustle. He slipped his stunner into the holster of the dress uniform.

 

"What happened?" Dorian asked.

 

Tyrel shook his head. "I'm not sure. One minute everyone was hunched over their translators, the next minute Tudela was shouting and the Zils were jumping all over the place." He shook his head. "Then everybody was waving stunners. It's a miracle nobody started shooting. This could be the first night of the First Interstellar War." From the communit in Dorian's beret, a voice said, "Korman to Rastelli: remain at post until further notice. Out."

 

Tyrel nodded and clumped heavily after the ambassador. Dorian returned to the flower tree. Honey-like perfume drifted from the blossoms. He pulled his stunner from its holster, hefted it, then slipped it back in .

 

He was staring at the brightly lit Dome when the Zil guard returned. He had no idea if it was the juggler or not. He wished for a moment that her could talk to the alien. But Zilans spoke at a frequency above Human hearing.

 

There was no way a Zilan and a Human could directly communicate. "The cause of all wars," Dorian whispered to the alien.

 

Dorian turned away and locked his hands behind his back. The cloud cover was nearly constant. The Zilan homeworld had no moons. It would be a long, dark night - physically as well as soulfully.

 

Dawn was as spectacular as sunset. But this morning the sky seemed the color of blood.

 

Dorian rubbed at his face, eyes feeling gritty.

 

Someone brought the Zil fresh brownbreads and a bottle of liquid. No one thought to do the same for Dorian.

The heat was rising when the Zil whistled. Dorian looked over to it. It held a brownbread in each hand and began to juggle. After a moment, it added two more. Suddenly both sets of arms crossed, continuing to toss the fruit smoothly.

 

"Mills Mess!" Dorian exclaimed, impressed despite himself. "You make it look so easy!"

 

The Zil caught the fruit neatly, then bowed to Dorian.

 

How could he impress the ZiI? The brownbreads wouldn't bounce and he was pretty sure they weren't flammable. Most of the rest of his juggling equipment was up on McCauliffe. He studied the alien. What could he do that a four-armed juggler couldn't? Not much.

 

But then he realized he might be able to do something a four-armed juggler with wing membranes between one pair of arms couldn't do! He held up a hand for the brownbread. The Zil tossed it.

 

"Korman to Rastelli. Do you read?" the communit said.

 

"Rastelli here, second assistant."

 

"Report. "

 

"Uh..." what "Was he supposed to say? The Zil watched him. "I am... presently engaged, ma'am."

 

"Engaged? In what?"

 

He paused and gulped. "In communication, ma'am. "

 

"With whom?"

 

"The Zil honor guard, ma'am," Dorian replied.

 

There was a long pause. "How are you communicating, Rastelli?"

 

"Uh... we're juggling, ma'am."

 

There was another long pause, then she said, "Hold your position, Rastelli. I'll be there in a moment." The communit went dead.

 

Dorian looked at the Zil. Tossing the fruit in one hand, he nodded.

 

After hesitating, the Zil threw him another fruit, then two more. Dorian set up simultaneous outside throws with the four. The Zil watched intently.

 

He threw the fruits over his shoulder from the front. He tried to catch them. He caught one, dropping the other. "I can see you're totally underwhelmed," he muttered, scooping up the dropped fruit. He tossed both to the ZiI, who caught them without hesitation.

 

"Again," he said holding up the hand. He should be able to do this! And no Zil could match either. The vestigial wing membranes of the longer upper arms would get in the way.

 

The Zil tossed the fruit. This time he concentrated, shutting out the cloudy, wet world. Shutting out the threat of war. He tossed the fruits from front to back. He caught them this time and kept the pattern going, then went back to simple outside circles. Sweat dripping from his face, he tossed the fruit to the Zil, who caught them handily. Trilling arpeggios, it bowed deeply.

 

Human applause and Zilan trills came from all around them.

 

From a cluster of ten Humans, the bald, heavyset Ambassador Tudela nodded gravely and said, "Well done, son."

 

Startled by the audience, Dorian said, "Sir?" He started to wipe his face, then jerked his and down to his side. Behind him, a group of Zilans had gathered near his juggling partner.

 

"That was like music to my eyes," said Tudela.

 

Dorian shook his head. "I... I don't understand, sir." He cleared his throat, straightened and added, "I've been on duty all night, sir. I'm a bit tired."

 

Tudela nodded. "Don't worry, son. You and your friend here have just managed to renew hope. If both species can share something as simple as juggling, perhaps we have other basic pleasures in common." He looked past Dorian.

 

A Zil stood among others of its kind. It wore a single, slender silver chain around its neck. It bowed slightly.

 

"That is the Zil ambassador. I believe we might be able to return to the Negotiation Dome after this."

 

"Sid" Dorian said. But Ambassador Tudela had set off for the Dome.

 

Tyrel slapped him on the back and said, "Way to go, man! You just saved us from the first Interstellar War!"

 

Rolling his eyes, he shoved Tyrel. "Get outta here."

 

Another voice snapped, "Rastelli! Attention!"

 

Dorian came to attention. Korman walked around in front of him. She hummed for a moment, then said. "It seems you've single­handedly restored these talks."

 

"It took more than one hand, ma'am." Korman hummed again, then scowling,

said, "Dismissed, soldier!"

 

"Yes, ma'am!" Dorian snapped a salute and spun around.

 

"And take an extra eight brownbreads, soldier. I think the Ambassadors are going to need you and your friend's - services - before these talks are through," she added as he walked away.

 

"Yes, ma'am!" Dorian saluted and with Tyrel beside him, headed for the rec. center.