Vrausot exposed a jagged array of teeth that conveyed his displeasure. "I'm in no mood for interference, although I might have expected only forensic exercise from the Leader of the Opposition."
"In that capacity, I'm here to offer suggestions." But it was more than that, Mittich reflected. The Assembly had been quite leery of the compromise plan. The Chancellor had wanted an awesome display of force; the Opposition, a try at peaceful contact.
They finally concurred in: observation, evaluation and application of force only if required. And it was hoped that, on the expedition, the Chancellor and Assemblyman would restrain each other.
But how could anyone restrain Vrausot?
"Prepare for gunnery practice," the Chancellor directed.
"But," Kavula protested, "that will produce observable emissions beyond the concealment of our shield."
Disappointed, Vrausot leaned back upon his tail. "Very well, then—we'll go through the motions. Order a wet run."
Kavula relayed the order and scores of hatches swung open, baring to space the glistening intensifiers of high-powered weapons. The ship reverberated with the hiss-click articulation of military command and response.
Pivoting on his massive tail, Mittich went over to the teleview screen. "I have your permission, of course, to take a look at the alien vessel?"