RICHARD F. DEBAUN
THE PARTIES OF THE FIRST PART

In a totally new situation you do the best you can with what you have on hand—or tentacle.

The thing that awoke me stood at the foot of my bed, shaking my right foot with one of its tentacles and holding a gun on me with another. At least it looked enough like a gun to make me slowly raise my hands in what I fervently prayed was a universal gesture of surrender.
"Borg," the thing said, fixing me with a cold stare from its lidless blue eye.
I calmly choked back the scream that was trying to tear out of my throat and forced my face into the biggest and warmest grin it was capable of.
"Friend," I greeted tentatively.
"Borg," the thing repeated, firmly pulling my foot out from under the blankets with a tentacle.
Let me tell you, neighbor, the sensation of that thing's tentacle on my bare ankle will remain forever in my scrapbook of favorite terrors. Kind of slimy with a slight electrical tingle. I needed no further encouragement.
"I'm with you, pal," I squeaked, quickly hopping out of bed.
Guided by the too-frequent prodding of tentacles, I soon found myself standing in my back yard shivering in my underwear, hands raised and grinning my fool head off. Next to me stood my late-night visitor, looking like a five-foot-two, eye of blue, fire hydrant with sections of garden hose stuck randomly about its body, one of which still held the gun on me. And sitting in the middle of my back yard was a luminous egg as big as a small house. I quickly put two and two together.
"That's your spaceship, right?"
"Borg," the thing answered, and pushed me toward the opening
which had appeared in the egg's side.

The same diffused glow that radiated from the outer hull illuminated the ship's interior, and I could see my breath forming streams of icy vapor when I exhaled. The air-conditioning was definitely set too low for comfort and my mind made a crazy parallel between myself and a frozen T.V. dinner. I lowered my arms and hugged myself to keep warm.
"Nice place you've got here," I said, trying to keep things on an informal level.

We were in a small, spherical chamber, completely bare of any furnishings or decoration. The wall-floor-ceiling was made out of a soft, spongy substance that almost oozed between my toes. A hole opened up in the ceiling and another fire hydrant creature dropped down in front of me with a light bounce. This one wasn't as tall as my armed escort, but his glistening yellow skin made up for it in sliminess. I hoped he didn't go in for touching strangers.
"Habla usted Espanol?" it asked. 
"Leapin' lizards!" I chirped. "The Martians are Spanish!"

The newcomer fiddled with a small plastic box he held in one of his tentacles and spoke again: "Do you speak English?"
"Borg," I nodded affirmatively.
"These damn things never work when you need them," muttered my host, disgustedly slapping the plastic box against the wall.
"I speak English! I speak English!" I assured it.
"Oh!" it said, startled. "Well, uh, in that case, uh, allow me to introduce myself. I am called Fong. The man next to you is called Rizit. We are—"
"Let me guess," I interrupted. "You are aliens from another planet and this is your spaceship. You, Fong, are a scientist. Rizit is your assistant. You have come to study life on my planet in order to determine whether or not it is suitable for colonization and/or conquest by your race. I am the random sample of native intelligent life for that study. That small box you are holding is a two-way translating device. You were able to program it by studying my planet's radio signals before you landed. We are now probably in orbit far, above my planet so no one would stumble onto your spacecraft in my back yard. Right?"
"Amazing," whistled Fong. "We had no idea you people were telepaths!"
"We're not really telepaths," I chattered through my now blue lips. "We're just highly intuitive."
"Well, even so," said Fong resolutely, "we are determined to obtain certain information vital to our, uh, project concerning your planet. We will not hesitate to use whatever means necessary to obtain that information, so I strongly advise you, for the sake of your own personal wellbeing, to abandon any notion of resistance."
"Resistance!" I laughed weakly, trying for a front of bravado to conceal the growing hysteria underneath. "My dear Fong! Why should I want to resist? Interrogation is a two-way street, you know. I shall, no doubt, learn as much about you from your questions as you will learn about me from my answers. Probably more."
"You will?" said Fong, disturbed. "Highly intuitive," I reminded him.
"This is not the behavioral attitude predicted on the basis of the content of your planet's radio broadcasts."
"Radio broadcasts!" I tried to sound condescending. "Fong, our radio broadcasts are intended as diversions for bored infants and the mentally insufficient. You haven't been taking them seriously, have you? I don't believe it! What kind of a scientist are you?"
"Bored infants?" questioned Fong. "And the mentally insufficient," I affirmed.
"But I found them quite entertai–" Fong stopped himself in time.
"See here, Fong. If your preliminary studies are based entirely on the contents of my planet's radio broadcasts, there is absolutely no point in our continuing this discussion any further. You would be basing our interpretations and conclusion on incorrect data, which is worse than basing them on no data at all. Besides, it wouldn't be fair for me be the only one on the receiving end, would it?"
"What do you mean you would be the only one on the receiving end?" demanded Fong. "By your own terms you could determine nothing of consequence without previous data."
"Are you putting me on, Fong?" Fong slapped the translating device again.
"You can't be as naïve as you pretend," I continued. "Do you really think it's possible to go flying around a strange planet, poking your nose in things, monitoring radio signals or whatever and avoid detection? This planet is inhabited by an intelligent form of life, you know."
"This is the first planet with intelligent life that we have ever come across," explained Fong in a tone of voice that was definitely defensive. "We've never tried conquering anyone before."
"Well, you really botched the job, didn't you?"
"Do you mean to say your people really know about us?"
"We've known since the very first," I lied. "In fact, with the information I've picked up as a result of this face-to-face meeting, there is very little we don't know about you."
"That error can be corrected," Fong suggested menacingly. Subtlety wasn't one of Fong's strong points.
I had the feeling that if I didn't get out of there in a hurry, I'd never get out at all. Frost had started to form on my arms and legs. I decided to bet the farm.
"Since we're both in agreement as to the pointlessness of continuing this meeting any further I suggest we adjourn. You may return me to my back yard."
"And what makes you think we would want to release you?" said Fong, sounding just like Richard Loo as the Japanese interrogator in an old World War II movie.
"For the sake of your own safety, of course."
"Our safety?"
"Listen to me, Fong." The rivulets of sweat pouring off my back were freezing halfway down. "I want you to think. Can you really imagine, knowing all we know about you, that you were allowed to land in just anybody's back yard? That we let you kidnap someone by pure chance? That I would permit you to take off without my being absolutely certain of the outcome? Without my being armed?"
"Armed!" cried Fong, quickly stepping back.
"I am a walking bomb," I bluffed. "The moment I will it my body detonates . . . something along the order of a thirty-kiloton nuclear explosion, I think."
Small beads of green liquid appeared on the surface of Fong's skin. It was comforting to know that I wasn't the only one in a sweat.
After a few more moments spent ironing out a minor difficulty or two, Fong set the ship down in my back yard again, let me out, and flew off into space. I'm not embarrassed at all to admit that the first thing I did was get down on my hands and knees and kiss the ground. Then I ran into the house, turned the furnace up full blast and had a drink. Correction. I had several drinks.
I deserved it. Everything didn't go quite as smoothly as I've described. Especially right at the end. Fong almost decided not to let me go. He said that he would rather be blown apart by my explosion than face his superiors after he gave his report. His superiors, it seems, were the ones who were really hot on gathering data from our radio broadcasts.
I could appreciate Fong's situation and was finally able to come up with a solution that satisfied him. I offered him, in my capacity as Earth's self-appointed representative, a treaty of peace in perpetuity with our planet. The conditions were simple: we'd leave them alone if they'd leave us alone. Fong really got warm to the idea when I pointed out that back home he would be credited with saving his people the effort and expense of an interplanetary war in which, I also pointed out, they might not be the victors. Everything worked out fine for Fong.
There is, however, one slight catch for our side.
It seems that on Fong's planet they have a kind of special custom when it comes to making deals or signing treaties. All the participating chiefs-of-state, all the signatories, all parties to the contract, must go through a sacred ceremony together. The chiefsof-state from Fong's home planet should be arriving in my back yard for the ceremony any day now. All six hundred million of them.