Sarah's Perspective
Gabriel's eyes flickered to the diplomatic satchel we had brought, and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. He turned to Zenthara, his voice filled with a warmth, "In many human cultures, it's a tradition to bring gifts to talks. It's a gesture of goodwill and a symbol of our intentions."
I felt a flutter of anticipation as I opened the satchel. I handed them one by one to Gabriel, each item carefully selected to represent a facet of our humanity.
"Knowing your nature would have changed what we brought," Gabriel began, his voice rich with humor, a smirk on his face, "but we bring food." He took the freeze-dried meal box from my hands and placed it on the table, his movements deliberate and respectful.
I handed him the next gift, a bottle of liquor whose name I didn't know but had been chosen for its quality. "Alcohol is what we drink with friends to show we trust each other," Gabriel continued his explanation.
Finally, I pulled out the last item, my hands trembling slightly with the weight of its significance. "The last thing is a symbol of peace," he said with a steady voice. "Many of our cultures have a weapon that is buried, or disabled, or altered in some form to show that it's not going to be used. We chose to symbolize that with a sword, with the scabbard tied to the handle using the flag of our United Nations." I held it out to Gabriel, the blade gleaming, the flag a vibrant blue.
Zenthara looked curiously at the three objects on the table, his mechanical eyes studying them. "I can't partake in the first two offerings either," he said, his voice devoid of judgment. "We don't have biological food, nor do we dull our minds." He reached down and pulled out the sword that Miles had touched earlier, its size dwarfing our own. "But I do have a sword I can place next to yours in an offer of peace."
He placed the giant sword on the table, its length hanging off from both ends. "I can't sheath it like yours," he continued, his voice deep and echoing off the metal walls. "But I give you my word that I am not interested in destroying your people. My people don't all agree, but I voted against extermination."
Gabriel's posture stiffened at Zenthara's words, his face betraying a flicker of surprise. "You know that alcohol dulls the senses?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Zenthara made that noise that I thought was laughter again. "From your perspective, we've been coming into the solar system for the past few years. And you're not exactly subtle with your radio transmissions. That's how we know your language and everything else about your history. That's how I speak your language." He waved a hand at the wall, and we all turned our heads simultaneously.
Displays formed, showing cameras on the rocket. Another display was an observation of the dead rover. There were even a few displays of news channels from Earth.
My blood ran cold, a chill of realization settling over me. They had been watching us, studying us, learning from us. I bit my cheek, struggling to keep my emotions in check. I was grateful that Gabriel was responsible for figuring out what to say and how to speak.
Gabriel cleared his throat, his voice steady despite the shock. "Humanity believes in privacy," he said, his words measured, careful and uncertain.
Zenthara laughed again, the sound echoing through the room. "I sincerely hope you are ignorant," he said, his voice filled with amusement. He pointed to the military guys in the back of the room. "If I'm not mistaken, at least two of you are intelligence officers. Do you spy on each other and your own people?"
I heard grumbling from the back, something that sounded like a reluctant "Yes."
Zenthara's response was immediate. "See. Hold yourself to the same standard you want me to follow. We used what we learned to debate what to do. I saw the good; others saw the bad. And now we are here."
