"You're referring to the incident with the Pathfinder," the American delegate spoke up from halfway around the table. "The Celeritas was in a different solar system when it was attacked."

"Only one ship entered Ctencri territory," the alien said. "The other presumably breached another people's region."

Saleh blinked. Two alien races … and both within ten light-years? The American President had implied it was a single race that surrounded Earth, not two or more.

Honest mistake or deliberate deception? "Perhaps you can help us contact the other … people," he said, fighting to get back on balance again. "Or at least assure them we weren't attempting an attack on their territory. We seek only to find new worlds—unoccupied worlds, of course—that we may peacefully colonize."

"That will be impossible."

"Why? Don't you have communication with them?"

"Pardon; you misunderstand. We will certainly aid you in contacting the other peoples. It is your seeking of worlds to colonize which is impossible."

Saleh frowned, his stomach tightening up again. "I don't understand."

"All suitable worlds are already occupied."

There was a moment of dead silence. "Occupied by whom?" the British delegate demanded.

"Many by their indigenous peoples," the Ctencri said. "Such worlds are closed to outside contact, as was yours until now. The remainder are occupied or claimed by space-going people such as ourselves."

"How many space-going races are there?" Saleh asked.

"The Ctencri have direct contact with nine others. The existence of seventeen more is known secondhand. We believe there to be many others."

The Russians didn't believe it, of course. Neither, to a lesser extent, did the Americans and the Europeans. The star ships were sent out again, in new directions. And again. And again.

Eventually, they were all convinced.