TROUBLE WITH TREATIES

by Katherine MacLean and Tom Condit

Soldier of fortune Patrick Meade asked me—“If you came face to face with a leopard on a narrow mountain trail, a cliff above and a cliff below, what would you do?”

“Is it a leopard cat?” I asked, because cats are cold gamblers. “All cats are cats. Leopards and tigers are big housecats.” said Uncle Pat, who was an expert.

“Is the leopard above or below?” I hedged, wondering if there were a big rock handy to roll at it, to avoid the gamble. “Above.”

“I’d scream and charge straight at it,” I said.

So if you were a shipful of unarmed pacifists, suddenly face to face with an alien war ship run by clever imperialist generals…

Third Officer Llyllw, officer on watch of the scoutship Wllyll’n stared at the small object on the screen with a faintly puzzled expression on his furry face. The shape of the object failed to match any of the spaceships in his handbook, and yet it was undeniably a ship.

He reached for a phone circuit to call his superior officer, and then stopped without completing the move. Usually his thoughts were slow, but his conclusions were generally extremely accurate, and, as the commendation he had received last year put it, “most orderly.”

Unidentified ship! All ships within the Empire of Erdig the Omnipotent were built to standard types. This ship could not be from any conquered part of the Empire. This meant an unconquered alien species, another world to be Brought to Order. It was an historic moment. Quietly, hoping that his superior officer would not appear behind him, he put tracers and radar amplifiers on the alien ship, and recorded the event in the bridge log, adding his name and the time with careful precision. It would pay to have his name connected with the discovery. It would make a good counterbalance to a reprimand, and he could see a reprimand coming up.

He turned again to the screen for a quick glance. The ship, now enlarged to seem larger and clearer, was very alien in design. He visualized alien beings inside, innocently pursuing their course, unaware that their chaotic lives were doomed to be Brought to Order. He remembered the delightful humbleness and obedience of slaves who had fueled their ship at the Thirty-Second World Brought to Order. It made a man feel good, having slaves around. The realization of the sacred Nifni mission to Bring Order out of Chaos spread a warm glow through him.

Journeyman Telepath Martin Jukovsky, of the exploration ship Kemal A ta turk, five months out of Pluto and bound ingalaxy, suddenly sat up and dropped his magazine. The green parrot on his shoulder lost its balance and flew away in squawking indignation.

“Hawwrrk! Angular Trisection! Awwrrk! Help! Help!”

“Shush up,” said Jukovsky absently, searching for the trail of strange thoughts he had crossed so briefly. Something about Order out of Chaos…Had someone on the ship gone mad? The thought had a very strange feeling about power over people, and a mixture of terror and triumph… He found the flavor again, and thought rapidly along the fading trail of faint thought, trying to think and feel like that, tuning in, establishing an empathy. Suddenly he was tuned in, the other’s personality swirling into his mind in a hammerblow of frightened emotions and cold calculating thoughts.

[Slaves (pleasure)… Alien Ship on screen … Reprimand? (fear) Promotion (fear)… War…Bring to Order…What on Earth did that mean? Where was—Alien Ship… (emotions)]

“Holy Dancing Dervish!” Jukovsky gasped, and ran barefooted to the control room to push the emergency alarm button.

Bells jangled throughout the A ta fork. The helmsman leaped to his feet. “Hey, that’s the emergency alarm,” he shouted over the din. “Hey, Jukovsky, what’s the idea?”

“Spaceship!” Jukovsky made a preoccupied gesture and lowered himself into a chair and started on the difficult task of tuning the other telepaths on board to the thoughts he was tracing. They came in—first Tewazi, Zorn and Candleman in a blast of curiosity, and then Hahn, disengaging himself from some far-off thought to slide in with the rest. He knew each of them, could feel as he came in: Tewazi, coolly analytical, organizing information; Zorn inquisitively searching and tracing; Candleman eagerly grasping; Hahn watching, emotions—so quiet he seemed completely unemotional—permeating his thought. They gripped and followed the thought trail.

On board the Wllyll’n, Third Officer Lyllw was beginning to feel his fur prickle with an eerie sensation of being watched. He looked hastily over his shoulder and saw nobody. He reached for the general-alarm cord. It should have been pulled the instant the alien ship was identified as alien, but he could be executed for pulling it without orders. It was time to call the Second Officer, or even the Captain. He could be questioned about the delay. Llyllw gripped his courage and went a step closer to insubordination. With a steady hand he flipped the switch that awoke the ship’s main computer.

The computer, Infallible Regulations and Advice, was usually used for navigation and landings, but it was also the ship’s authority for military regulations, precedents, and all rulings of his Exalted Omnipotence Erdig, Supreme Ruler of Nll’ni and Lord of Creation. The Infallible could check and recognize screen images of all known ships, and should be able to cope with an unknown ship. There were, after all, a number of regulations and precedents dealing with the Bringing to Order of an alien species.

He waited. The ship’s screens blinked as the big computer cut into them and started watching. He waited another instant, wondering if the computer would react. His life hung in balance.

The alarm buzzers went off with a deafening roar. The computer had recognized the emergency. A recorded voice began barking orders over the speaker system. He was safe.

Llyllw took a deep breath and held it while he calculated. Now the Second Officer, the First Officer, the Captain, and the Strategic Captain had been by-passed. They were all going to be angry and out for his blood. He balanced this out against the fact that the Infallible Code would have his actions in its record. If he could keep himself from being executed on some pretext, until the ship returned to base, the High Servants of the Exalted Omnipotence would be well pleased with him,—they liked to have senior officers aware that the Infallible could be consulted and recordings made without their consent—it helped them fear Erdig as they should. A promotion to a different ship…

The computer voice was roaring over the speaker system:

“Full Military Alert. Full Military Alert. Strange Ship sighted. Hold Fire, Await Orders. Repeat Hold Fire, Await Orders. All listed experts, linguists, and personnel with contact experience un-Nll’nian species stand by for direction if off duty. Full Emergency. Repeat. Full Emergency. Ship Command ordered to turn over absolute authority to Strategic Captain. All personnel consult written regulations RMZZ947 on Bringing To Order of Alien Species.”

The First Officer was first onto the bridge, although he had not been closest. He bounded up the ladder from his quarters, roaring, his eyes blurred and his fur matted. Obviously he had been sleeping during a Self-Improvement period.

“Who turned information over to the Infallible?” he snarled glaring around wildly. “You, you’re the watch officer! What the idiocy is the idea?”

Llyllw concealed the Nll’ni version of a smile and grovelled politely against a bulkhead, hiding his head.

“My abject apologies, Your Authority. The object was sighted at such a distance that there was no certainty that it was truly a ship. I did not want to disturb my Excellent Superiors for a matter which might be only a criminal error of judgment on my part, so I turned the problem over to the Infallible, to be sure of correct action, if only in my own deserved execution for mistaking a natural object for a ship.”

There was a pause while the First considered the case. The regulations allowed the lowest crew member to consult the Infallible any time it was not busy with another problem. It was an insult to one’s superiors to take any such action without orders, but technically it was not a personal move, merely a consulting of regulations.

“Face out!” The First had his expression under control and his fur sleeked when Llyllw turned. “Very good, a most patriotic action,” the First Officer complimented him stiffly. “Quite correct—by the regulations.”

Third Officer Llyllw stiffened and saluted with precision. Behind the expressionless masks each could see the hatred and ambition in the other’s eyes. It is a long hard climb to become Captain of a ship, and your fellow officers are very much in your way.

Several thousand miles away, in the other ship, Master Telepath Tewazi muttered half-hysterically as he leafed through the Handbook of Comparitive Sociology. “Diu! There must be something like this in here somewhere!”

The four young Journeyman Telepaths were recording full speed on stenotypers, wincing occasionally at the thoughts they were recording….

There was a hush on the bridge of the WIlyll’n and everyone grovelled against the bulkheads as Strategic Captain Bryllw hoisted himself up through the hatchway. He was fat and greying, and wore a captain’s uniform in purple, indicating a retired captain. He was seldom seen by the others on the ship, passing his time viewing history tapes and playing games of logic with the computer, in private. Retired Captains of much experience and success were the only ones permitted to have the berth of Strategic Captain on a military ship. It was a pleasant way for an old military man to retire, for usually there was nothing to do, except view tapes and work at hobbies.

“Who sighted the ship?” he growled.

Llyllw raised a hand, keeping his face to the bulkhead. “Uh! Get around, all of you. There’s more to do than cling to the wall like a flock of Moragais!”

The officers and hands on the bridge stood at trembling attention as Bryllw looked them up and down. They had heard of his reputation as a martinet from the days he had commanded three ships.

“There is an emergency and I shall demand intelligence and skill from you. I know this is asking much, but you will start making an effort to apply your bean-sized brains to the problem of this alien ship.”

The Captain’s and Officers’ hackles rose at the insult, but their expressions did not change and they stared rigidly ahead.

“You!” The grizzled Strategic Captain leveled a finger at the Navigation Officer, who was standing trembling in the rank behind the Captain. “Are all star maps prepared to be destroyed or scrambled on four-seconds’ notice?”

The unfortunate Navigation Officer swallowed and cleared his throat, “No, Excellency.”

“They should be,” Bryllw let a silent moment pass while he watched the Navigator inquiringly.

The officer, expecting immediate execution, realized slowly that Bryllw was waiting for something. “Your pardon, Excellency. May I be dismissed so that I may make preparation to destroy or scramble all star charts?”

“A most sensible plan,” Bryllw purred. “Dismissed.”

He waited until the unfortunate Navigator was down the ladder. Then he addressed the rigid group. “Believe it or not, oh Assembly of Wisdom, there is a remote possibility that we might have met a species capable of destroying us, and they might want to know where our home planets are.”

He directed his glower at the Captain, standing at attention with the others. “Inferior, our ship is now overtaking the alien ship. What do we do when we come within range?”

“Open fire,” the Captain snapped, glaring at the wall.

“Brilliant, Your Wisdom. I hope you did not strain you brain irreparably.” That was a snarl, only barely disguised as a smile. The smile vanished, and the grizzled Strategic Captain stood back a yard and let out a bellow that made them all jump.

“You miserable imbeciles! That ship contains the only opportunity you will ever have to locate and trace a new species, and add a new planet to the Empire of Erdig. If they have detected us, they might already have destroyed all maps. And you morons want to help them, by using their ship for target practice and blowing it to bits, so that we will never be able to assemble any information from the pieces.”

He lowered his voice to a simple tone like an adult explaining to children. “We must talk to them, make sure that they are not afraid of us, you understand? We must—”

He turned abruptly to the Gunnery Officer. “Inferior, your long range guns are already trained on the target, preparing to blow this valuable ship to bits. Am I correct?”

The Gunnery Officer seemed to have difficulty answering. “Gugh, ah Yess, Authority. Military alert…”

“I am glad to see you are so efficient.” Bryllw purred. “Are the crews instructed to fire automatically if the defense screens register unusual radiation?”

“Not without further orders, Authority.”

“Wonderful! Then this valuable source of information will not be blasted out of space, while I am trying to explain how to seem friendly. It is safe even if they signal us on an unusual wavelength. Wonderful. It must be an accident.”

He smiled, a genuine expression, and the trembling group of officers dared to take a few deep breaths and consider them out of danger. “We must go softly in approaching these creatures. We cannot be a warship, we must approach them as civilians, like a trader ship. Please study to act like civilians. Anyone who has associated with civilians or bought from traders in civilian stores please show the others how civilians act. We will be learning their language, humbly so as to trade with them, you understand, and whoever is in front of the viewscreen must seem like a civilian, and very humble and polite. You understand?” He looked at their rigid faces and detected signs of resistance and stood back to bellow again.

“Let us have no show of pride, no signs of Nll’nian superiority. Is that clear? Anyone who gives the slightest indication that this is a warship, or that he personally is accustomed to weapons of war, will be executed—immediately!”

The grizzled warrior looked at the rigid and trembling officers and men with satisfaction. He lowered his bellow to a conversational tone.

“I am going to retire to my quarters and leave the opening moves to you, Captain. Remember that these creatures do not know anything about us, and present to them whatever lie is least alarming. Do not consult the Infallible or make any change of plans without first consulting me.”

He smiled at the rigid group. “To save us from the pain and embarrassment of many executions, I will remove the need of your committing errors by conducting the preliminary negotiations myself. Call me as soon as you have managed a rough translation of the alien’s language and have the translation machine working.”

He descended the ladder clumsily, but he did not look at all ridiculous.

Captain Rablyn moved from his position of frozen attention, and looked after the Strategic Captain with a snarl.

Aboard the Ataturk Master Telepath Tewazi called a conference. He leaned back and shut his eyes as the telepaths about the ship answered the call and turned in with their reactions.

[“Hooboy, do they like each other!”

“Like a nest of rattlesnakes.”

“He’s a tough old bird, that Bryllw.”

“Let’s get this coordinated a little. Somebody start verbally repeating for Chang. This is his type of situation: he ought to be coordinator.” “Too bad he’s not a telepath…” “What a nutty culture.” “…I’ll do it.” “We must convince “Like a fruitcake, like our ancestors.” Bryllw that we are friendly, so he will

“What?”

leave us alone.”

“Leave us alone? You weren’t tuned in to “Yes, Look up those nuts. No use trying to get them Authoritarian in the to change their minds.” handbook. They never change.” “But Gandhi…” “Not correct,” (Hahn) “Psy- “He’d like that. Bryllw would like chological reorientation. no resistance…encourage him, to Takes time, though.” attack.”

“Strange attitude.” “Time! … (obscenity) …” “Get that Order-Chaos bit? Look up “We don’t have time Efficiency Expert. They never change. change him. Outsmart him.” “His officers dislike him, “How?” “Find out from him, Crew very favorable though… what would make him Maybe something there…like the leave us alone.” Bounty, only different.” “I couldn’t follow him at all.” “What Bounty …” “(image, impressions)” “Strange at-

“Oh.” titudes, yes.” “He’ll accept us at a certain re- “He’s worried that lationship. “Can we negotiate? What wemight be is this relationship—I don’t get it—(con-more powerful. If he thinks so cept of slave)” “Get off my he’ll be back off his ship and run.” lap, cat.” This ship, “Chang says we can scare off outpower the Wlyll’n?” “Bryllw.” “Dammit, cat!” With what? His ship is a killer, “What’s a and it’s fast. We can’t beat them.” “Chang’s slave?” talking.” “Chang says, run bluff, like poker.” “Huh?” “Ouch!” “What’s poker?” “What’s a slave?” “Why ouch?”

“Non-telepathic card game, depends on “Cat clawed not knowing what cards are in other’s me.” possession.

Cards are strength. “A slave is one who takes Bet on outcome, pretend strong cards, your orders. Must frighten opponent so he take them. “Why take orders if will concede without struggle you don’t agree with them?” to test you. That’s bluff.” “Force. (image of head coming “But if he knows you might bluff?” off.) That’s why.” “Too much to lose if he “Rights?” “No rights. Slave contests and you’re not bluffing. sidered inferior species.” He doesn’t dare chance it.”

“Like a pet?” “No.”

“Repeat that for Chang!”

“But he told me.” “Inferior subservient species.” “Like the cat?”

“What’s so (vague obscenity) subservient about the cat?”

“I’ve got an idea!”]

Some five hours after video contact had been established, Bryllw emerged from the schooling chamber with a rough knowledge of Terran, and the information that the ship he was facing was the patrolship Vengeance of the Terran Federation Frontier Guard, her captain was named Chang, and he was most grateful to the Nll’ni for taking on the task of linguistics involved in establishing contact.

Bryllw smiled a slow, murderous smile. Delightfully vivid in his memory were the pictures of all the idiotic actions the Terrans had performed in passing across key words: throwing balls in the air, smiling, frowning, gnashing their teeth, holding up one, two, three, four fingers…. These clowns should be a pushover.

He stepped to the video and looked into the face of the Terran framed in it. He began to speak, phrasing his thoughts carefully in the strange tongue. “I iss Bryllw, caftan ship here. Wooe desthire thrhade wiss you. Wooe seeging egtension Nll’ni thrhade rhoutes. Arr’ you ooant thrhade? Much bhenefitus ourh people—yourhus aand minuh. Thrhade,” he concluded, in a carefully memorized sentence “iss life blood of induthry.”

Chang assumed his blandest expression, and his voice rolled out of the speaker unctuously. “As Frontier Guards we are, of course, entrusted with the safety and security of the peaceful citizens of our Federation. However, in view of the objective circumstances, and taking into account historical factors such as the Corn Laws, the assassination of Boris Stambouli and the relative success of the Wafd, it seems to us upon viewing the situation dialectically,” the Nll’ni computer whirred, sending out whole lines of random symbols. “Viewing the situation dialectically, I say, it would seem that in the light of Thomas Jefferson’s views on free trade it is incumbent upon us to place both shoulders on the ground, put our feet to the wheel, and consider the matter more intensively—with diligence, so to speak. If you would care to send a delegation on board our ship to further identify yourselves, we will be pleased to engage in discussion upon the matter previously alluded to. Otherwise,” Li paused, “We shall be forced, much to our sorrow, to destroy you.”

As soon as the screen went blank Bryllw turned to the officer in charge of linguistics. “Well,” he roared, “what did he say?”

“There appears to be some difficulty in translation, Your Extreme Sentience, but it would appear that we are invited to send a delegation on board their ship to negotiate.”

“Excellent!” Bryllw purred, and stalked off, leaving the linguist staring hopelessly at the tape in his hand.

By the time Bryllw’s lifeboat reached the side of the Vengeance/Ataturk, bearing the Strategic Captain and five others, including Third Officer Llyllw, that officer had almost succeeded in banishing the feeling of being watched. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t been watched for hours, since he was no longer important. It was Strategic Captain Bryllw who now struggled to conceal his uneasiness…He attributed it to the weird appearance of these skinny hairless things called Terrans. And, after all, this was his first experience of bringing a new species to order, though he doubted if any of the crew realized it…. A man could expect to be a little nervous about something like this, couldn’t he? His mind wandered back to a campaign he had just missed when he was a Second Officer…. A race of primitive chlorine-breathers inhabiting the lone planet of a hot new sun. The planet was untenable to Nll’ni and its people incapable of accepting Order, so they had been exterminated to prevent any possibility that they might upset the Order of the Universe. The planet had been wiped clean of all life to prevent re-evolution and a small amount of mining activity had been commenced. It had been an arduous and expensive job, but it would have been highly disorderly to leave it undone.

Aboard the Ataturk, Tewazi reeled with dizziness and nausea, and dropped the Handbook of Comparative Sociology…

[“Diu!”

“Uggh…Did you read Bryllw just then?”

“No, what …oh he …better tell Chang.” “I will.”

Quiet thought came in from Hahn: “Maybe we ought to blow up our ship at that. Tell Chang to make the arrangements or… Candleman, you in the engine room? Better rig something up just in case. Don’t want these people to find Earth.”

“An entire species, a whole planet…” “I don’t

think I want to read Bryllw

any more.”

Hahn again: “Stay clear, man…We have to out-think him.”

“Chang says that if we suicide, we’ll have to take them with us. We were making a pretty standard orbit out from the system when they saw us. All they have to do is check the records and trace our orbit back.”

“Bryllw hasn’t thought of that.” “He will. And don’t

forget that computer.”

“Stick by the plan.”]

Bryllw came into the Terran spaceship somewhat ruffled from the manhandling he had received in the airlock. He had been briskly and expressionlessly searched, and both his hidden weapons and his camera had been taken from him. The searchers had not been impolite, but neither had they been respectful: They had handled him like a piece of furniture.

“Humble,” he muttered to himself in Nll’ni. “Be humble, trader.” He surveyed the scene before him with widened eyes, trying to look like a recruit with his side-fangs not grown yet. The Terrans looked as bad as they had over the video, if not somewhat worse: Obscenely smooth and hairless, their skins in various shades of light and dark brown. They looked scrawny and frail. It would probably be easy to force information out of one of them: He could be broken in the hands.

[Ugh!” “Diu!” (Hahn)—“Give me a schlager, and I’ll show that big ape who can be broken in the hands… second thought I can do it with my hands.” “Cut it, man, you’re as bad as he is.” “You’re too modern, Zern, don’t understand combat.”]

They wore almost no cloth to cover their hairlessness—a harness around the loins and some with a large green ornament on the shoulder. Of the six Terrans gathered to greet him, four had the green ornaments—the largest just a foot high…maybe the size indicated authority and could indicate which of the Terrans facing him were of importance.

While he stared at an ornament it moved, said a few words in Terran, spread large green wings and flew out of the room. Bryllw started. There had been nothing said about any green flying creatures while he was learning the language.

One of the Terrans stepped forward. “I am Chang. Coordinator today.”

Bryllw paused to consider the strange title, then dismissed it and proceeded with his speech. “I iss Bryllw. You me talk viewscthreen. I iss vissneth manazherh andh arrithmetithian of thrhade ship WIlyll’n.” He spoke briskly, convinced that he was speaking the language perfectly. “Ve thrhade. I tell rhulerhserhvantth mink. Ve sendh ships worhldh yourh. Brhing many goodh thingth. You take. What havh nont we havh. Ve havh nont you havh. Show me star map yourh planet. Wherh you people planet? Ve send merschant ship.”

It was a good thing Chang did not have to understand him. Chang stepped forward trying to look formal. He took a long deep breath, rounded his voice, and began. “We of the Federation always welcome contact with new species. We hope for amicable relations, and hope that amicable relations can ultimately, or even immediately blossom into understanding and interdependence. In the record of history this historic meeting may be recorded as truly historic and might even mark the first step in a long history of friendship and friendly relations between our species and even of brotherhood and federation.”

Bryllw’s attention wandered. He had not fully understood all that was being said, but it sounded like the usual formal preliminaries.

“You forgif smaller self, Authority, what iss Federation.”

“Ah—Federation is many planets mutually helping.”

Chang resumed the speech and Bryllw’s attention wandered again. The claim to be many planets could be a standard bluff intended to scare him off, or it could be true. He noted with satisfaction that the interior of the ship looked primitive and unarmored, with few safety devices. If this ship were the best frontier guard the “federation” could put up, it would be better if they did hold a large number of planets. It would be easy to take them away from such a puny navy as this. The more planets the better.

[“Awk! That’s not the reaction we wanted!” “He knows about bluffs!” “We aren’t scaring him off.”]

Oblivious of trouble, Chang, droned on…

“…And, as I emphasized in our previous conversation, in the light of our reverence for the free trade views of such historical figures as Thomas Jefferson and Al Capone, it would seem inevitable that in the course of history we would be led…”

While the Terran orated on, the other five members of the N11’ni boarding party came through the airlock one by one. They were breathing heavily and their weapons were missing, but they were still a good fighting force. Bryllw wondered if the Terrans were afraid of them. If they were, it would indicate that the Terrans, unless they were arrant cowards, thought of themselves as relatively defenseless and weak.

He tried a feint. Abruptly he coughed in a loud rumble and moved forward in a sudden jerk, then stopped himself with a hand apologetically against his faceplate as if to smother a cough, and stepped back again. It had worked; he had seen what he wanted to know. All the spindly two-legged creatures had flinched or frozen at his sudden motion and roar, and now, stiffened, were making a desperate effort to look nonchalant, and to resume their former attitude of interested listening to their leader’s speech.

Unless they were cowards, that meant that they knew they were inferior to him. Bryllw decided that it might be possible to take the ship from these skinny Terrans with just bare hands and good discipline. Once they had the ship it would be easy to decipher the star charts and find out where its home planets were. However, if he continued on this act of being a meek trader, they might even tell him where the home planets were and save the need of fighting.

“Llyllw,” he mumbled into the tiny intercom mike in his helmet. “Be prepared for action and keep a good watch for their weapons. They must have some, probably trained on us, but I have not seen them. I may try to seize this ship, as soon as I find out what these green flying things are.”

[“Get Taylor to work up some phony hand weapons in a hurry.” “Why not use the ones we took off the gorillas?” “They’d recognize them, and know for sure we don’t have any of our own. You don’t want to wrestle with these characters.” “What did we let them on the ship for?” “To frighten them, man.”]

“Authority,” Llyllw’s voice came nervously over the intercom into Bryllw’s helmet. “One of these green animals is speaking to me privately. I don’t know what it is saying.”

Bryllw looked back and saw Llyllw standing stiff and woodenfaced, with a green creature perched on his shoulder. The creature was staring at him, turning its head to stare with one eye at a time with an air of impolite incredulity.

“Awwwrk!” the creature suddenly screamed in commanding tones. “Tripledeck deal! Tripledeck deal!”

Llyllw went up into the air a foot, and came down even more wooden. The creature spread large green wings and flew off down the passageway. With a great rustle and whirr of wings the others took wing from the Terran’s shoulders, and followed down the passageway until they were out of sight.

“You must excuse the Wraxtax,” Chang said. “Their people have no custom of courtesy to strangers. You don’t have to obey his command. We will explain to him.”

“Who was he, Authority?” asked Bryllw, remembering to be humble. “Is he in command of any power in your great ship?” Who was in charge of this ship? The attitudes of each Terran to the other were ambiguous, neither indicating command nor obedience, and their attitude to the green winged things was even more peculiar and hard to identify. It made him nervous.

“He is not in command over anyone,” Chang explained solemnly. “We are equals. The Wraxtax are the fifteenth species to join our Glorious Federation. I am not really an authority on them. Would you like to see the ship?”

Equals? Equals meant interchangable units, identical quantities. How could a Biped be an interchangable unit or an identical quantity to a Green Bird? And who was in charge? Bryllw knitted his brows staring earnestly at the Biped who had told him he was Captain. Was this nervous creature who was not saluted by his fellows really an Officer? He retracked through the statement and remembered the question. At least that was something clear, and he knew what he wanted.

“Ve must thrade science skilish. Whant to see control room and enshine room, if pleassing to Your Authority.”

The Terran showed his teeth and ducked his head in a gesture Bryllw had learned was friendly. “Very pleasing. Follow me.”

Bryllw motioned his five Nll’nians in spacesuits to follow, wondering at the stupidity shown by non-N’llnian species. They filed along a narrow corridor and through several hatches into a control room, where the Terran solemnly showed them the controls.

“The feeblevetzer is here, this switch and this meter. It is useful only in moments when one wants to exceed the speed of light and does not care in what direction one goes. The Bilateral Fort Allerton is here …this dial…and that lever…”

Bryllw stood confused, unable to follow the Terran’s explanation. Terran was obviously a more complex language than they had thought. The dials and switches and screens of the control board looked precisely like dials and switches and screens with no hint of their use. Perhaps if he could see the machinery…

“Enshine room. See enshine room, Your Oberlord?”

Again there was no objection. As Bryllw followed, amazed at the stupidity of the Terrans, he spoke softly into his throat-mike to halt his men. “Don’t all follow me. Four of you stay in the control room, stand around asking questions, look innocent, try to see where they keep any weapons and be ready to kill them and seize the ship when I give the order.”

[Hahn: ” …Ohhh… our friend is clever.”’

“I don’t see any weapons, Authority,” Llyllw reported, his voice coming in tinnily on the earphone. “I’m last in line, and one of the Terrans is following us and pointing a framework of wires at us. It is about two hands square, and looks just like wires. The green things just flew in.”

“Don’t move suddenly, Idiot. Look peaceable and ask questions about their language and number system. Pretend you don’t notice he’s pointing anything at you. Keep someone wandering around behind him, and be ready to kill him when I give the word.”

“Hey Taylor,” Hahn called cheerily in the control room “Know Pig Latin? Utpay ouryay ackbay gainstagay allay ulkheadbay, otgay itay?”

Bryllw was disturbed as he walked down the corridor. A framework contraption of wires a weapon? Where would you get the power? And why did the majority of the Terrans wear neither uniforms nor weapons? They wore only skin and harness, not suitable for hiding weapons, and with no insignia of rank. How could the ship be organized in any orderly fashion if there was no way to tell who was in command of what?

[“What’s bothering him now? We know who does what in the crew, why should anyone wear a label?” “It’s Authoritarian custom to wear a label, makes them feel happier.” “I read that part in the Handbook, but he seems to think it is practical! I mean….” “Be clear, man…let’s follow this.”]

A ship could not run without some indication of rank and authority, Bryllw thought uneasily, and his skin prickled again with that strange, watched feeling. Perhaps the Terrans had taken off their uniforms and insignia to conceal some vital information about themselves. Perhaps they were not so helpless as they seemed and were playing some game of considerable depth and darkness.

[“Hoo… now he’s starting to get a little nervous.” “But why?” “The way we really are, he thinks it’s a lie.” “The way we really are is the Bluff?” “What?” “Now you’re making me nervous.”]

Bryllw moved carefully along another line of logic. The presence of the green flying creatures meant that the Terrans had expanded across at least two solar systems, for they would not find an identical atmosphere in their own solar system, and these “Wraxtax” showed no signs of wearing airsuits. By the laws of probability, it took exploring at least five systems to find a planet with identical atmosphere. It would appear that the Terrans had done a lot of exploring before encountering the Wraxtax. The spokesman had said that they were the fifteenth species to join the Terran “Federation”. (What in space was a “Federation”?) The question was, which species dominated the other? One had to dominate, or you could never have any stable Order. The green creatures had done no work in his presence and had given only one order, which was ignored. It was all very confusing.

“Which one of the planets of your Federation is the central one, Authority?”

“I don’t understand,” said Chang. “Suns are central, not planets. Of course it is conceivable that a system might exist…”

“I mean, which one carries out the government, isshues the laws?”

“Government? Laws?” Chang considered a moment, looking at the bulky spacesuited figure. “Oh, well …” One of the other Terrans stepped forward hastily and spoke into his ear. Chang smiled.

“Why, it’s a federation. All worlds are central.”

“All worlds are central?” repeated Bryllw, trying to sound merely stupid. A red haze gathered in front of his eyes, and he lowered over the Terran with his hands dangling open. It was an effort to hold himself from picking the creature up like a doll and ripping its limbs off. He had climbed to the rank of captain half a lifetime ago so that he would not have to listen to insults from anyone except the High Servants of Erdig themselves. It was enraging to have a small hairless caricature of a creature, destined to be a slave, insolently telling him obvious lies, insulting his intelligence, and probably laughing at him.

“All worlds are central, you said, Your Wisdom?” He forced himself to be humble, though his voice was shaking. “But I like know vhich world has most power over the others.”

“No world exerts power over any other world.” repeated Chang blandly. “Why would any world do that? It would involve a most unprofitable expenditure of energy and resources and would probably lead to hostility. While we are stopped here, would you care to look at our atmosphere control division?” He stepped through a hatchway and out of reach.

Bryllw lumbered after him, bending his head in a determinedly humble pose. If he went amok now, his subordinates would claim he was senile. Perhaps they’d be right. He was shaking, but under control. Tewazi eased away from behind him.

[Woof! Did you feel that rage?” “It swamped me…I almost tried to strangle someone myself.” “Me, too—Him.” “No point telling Chang how close he came.”]

Bryllw found himself in a small room, jampacked with equipment, tanks of liquid lining the walls. The strategic captain pretended to be studying the equipment while he got his thoughts under control.

As his breathing came back to normal and he stopped shaking, he focused on the tanks of liquid. They were glowing with intense illumination and giving forth reflected light to the rest of the darkened room. Each tank had a different form of vegetation growing in it, and each contained small golden creatures, swimming about and poking at the plants with their noses. At one side of each tank was a miniature bank of levers and dials, inside the tank.

Bryllw stared at the tiny control boards, then at the golden swimmers. Who would use the boards in there? The fish?

He cleared his throat, then remembered his Terran again. “What arrafp … what do these creatures, Authority?”

“Them I am an authority on. They are our atmosphere control experts, members of the twenty-fifth species to join our glorious federation.”

“Forgive request, Authority, but…would inthroduce me? They such beautiful creatures…” Bryllw was thinking fast. The fish things were captives possibly, discontented slaves. Divide and rule…

Chang smiled blandly. “I’m afraid that they don’t converse much.”

Bryllw looked at the table. A pair of earphones lay on it, wires leading to one of the tanks. Obviously the Terrans conversed with the fish things. He hesitated.

The Terfan moved to the door. “Shall we go to the Engine Room now?”

Bryllw followed him. The idea of negotiating with little golden fish was utter madness. Yet, logically…Logically, what?

(“Who thought up that earphone rig?”) (“I did.”) (“Nice work, Jukovsky, he’s reeling.”) (“Hurry the guys up with the thinbumbob, that Strategic type is coming.”)

As they walked down the corridor, a man dashed forward from the next hatchway and spoke hurriedly to Chang. The conversation looked unnatural, as all such actions of the Terrans had, and Bryllw realized it was because there was no form of salute exchanged and neither party went to attention while speaking. They were keeping their relative status a secret from him with fantastically good acting.

The Terran with him (the Captain?) turned from the brief conference and looked up at Bryllw, showing again those even white teeth that would be no use for anything except eating vegetables. There was something reassuring about the pacifism of his appearance. It calmed Bryllw’s wild speculations about deadly conspiracies, though it failed to clear the fog which was gathering in his mind.

“I receive word,” said the Terran, “that my Federation would like to trade with your—ah, government—but they do not feel that the time is suitable for an approach to our planets by your ships…. difficulties of unknown germs and such problems. Therefore, we would like to choose a dead planet which is completely isolated, to meet your ships and exchange cargoes.”

This was not a stupid proposal. Bryllw stared at the Terran calculatingly, wondering when the pretense of innocence would cease. The proposition was a practical one for potential enemies. It would be best to agree to it…Any extra time they took in negotiating would increase his chances of locating the star systems of the Federation. Also give more time to locate the real captain, for this clown was not speaking for himself, and there had been no time to communicate with the planets of their ‘Federation’ even if they had been of the nearest star to the two ships. Someone was giving him advice, and that someone knew enough to be valuable, and should be located and kept alive for questioning.

[“Ghah! His image of questioning. And he likes it!” “No, he doesn’t …there’s no emotion, it’s a purely mechanical concept…Much as you civilized-type people may not like it, I’m afraid we’re going to have to do something about these people. I’ve got the location of their home planet worked out. With the overcentralization these Authoritarian types have, we can knock them apart with one raid—their subject races could finish the job …Uh-oh!” “Nice plans Hahn, but how about plans to survive this little inspection party they’ve put aboard? We don’t seem to be making it.”]

Llyllw’s voice came into the earphone of Bryllw’s helmet as he lumbered after the small group of Terrans who were showing him the ship. He remembered he had left Llyllw in the control room, remembered with difficulty, dragging his mind from a fog of speculations. Llyllw’s voice was triumphant.

“A most unfortunate accident seems to have occurred, your Authority…I accidentally bumped into the Terran with the weapon. He dropped it, and I most clumsily stepped on it. I am now apologizing profusely. Oh—yes, I think I see a star chart. It’s painted on a bulkhead, and is obviously ornamental, but it looks quite readable.”

“Excellent,” Bryllw purred into the helmet mike, remembering that this was the officer who had sighted the strange ship and turned on the Infallible without orders. “Of course it is insubordination, punishable by death, to act without orders, unless I officially approve of your action.” There was a tense silence from the listener at the other end of the line. Bryllw let him suffer for a moment, then added. “I approve. However, I’ll file recommendations that you be promoted—no room for insubordination on the bottom.” He added more quietly. “Be ready to seize the control room when I give the signal. Kill the birds, too.”

Bryllw turned to the Terran beside him, “Ve thrade, dead planet, stop andh thrade there. I tell my government, it sends ships. Where live you people planets? You tell me. I pick out good star between.”

Chang smiled. “We have the star maps up in the control room. You mark where your stars are, and our calculating machine will search the records and find the optimum star with unoccupied planets to use as a trade center between us.”

Bryllw radiated a mental snarl that rocked the Terran telepaths. The Terrans wanted to know where his home worlds were. Possibly they had invited him to their ship in order to capture and question him. But if something went wrong with the negotiating delegation, and the Captain of the WIlyiln suspected it, he would immediately blast the Terran ship to atoms, and Bryllw with it. It would be the first thing he would decide to do. Bryllw could visualize Captain Rablyn’s pleasure at giving the order that would rid him of a Strategic Captain and leave him again master of his own ship.

“Very sorry, Authority and Wise one, but I just trader, arithmetic-doer of trade ship,” he said stolidly, knowing he would not be believed. “I not read star maps, not understand where Nll’ni is from here.”

Chang looked at him smilingly, a showing of teeth that suddenly seemed deadly. “Perhaps something can be arranged.” He turned and stepped through the hatchway into what looked like a machine shop. Spare parts lay around on and under benches.

“Repairs,” Chang explained. It was a rather obvious statement, but four men were busily working with rapidity and coordination on adjusting an apparatus built into the wall, while a fifth stood by a control chair and aiming device and leaned on a very large red button with one hand. As the others worked they glanced frequently at a viewscreen centered in the apparatus. The screen had two crossed lines quadrasecting it, like a target sighter and firing device. In the center of the screen with the crossed hairs right across the middle of it, was a ship which Bryllw slowly recognized was the WIlylin.

“Your pardon, Authority,” Bryllw walked over and stood by the working men, breathing heavily. They were in easy reach for skull-cracking. “Your pardon, but this appears to be a weapon. Would you explain to me the principle?”

The one holding the button was further away, out of reach, Bryllw noted. He would have to be reached when the others were down.

“Certainly,” Chang smiled. “This is our major armament, the Cosmic Regurgitator. It operates upon the Higgledy-Piggledy principle of reciprocal jabberwocky, and can undo the atomic bonds of any object it is focused on. Except of course, large planets and stars—it would only be able to lightly damage a planet for instance, perhaps destroy the atmosphere. There has been considerable speculation among astrophysicists as to what its effect on a star might be…. The whingamig here, determines the jabberwocky reciprocal of any object it is set upon, and indicates by different colors—” He waved his hand at a set of rapidly spinning colored lights.

“That color scheme you see, for instance, indicates the jabberwocky reciprocal of your ship. It is unfortunately necessary to focus on something in order to complete certain repairs. The gunners are making test runs on your ship, since it is the nearest large object. There is however, no danger to your ship—that button there, the one that Jukovsky is pressing, keeps the weapon from Regurgitating automatically when it reaches target. Naturally he will be very careful not to let go of it. Let’s go into the engine room, shall we?”

Saying nothing, Bryllw looked again at his ship, WIlyll’n, pictured in the crosshairs of the weapon, and at the Terran lounging, holding down the button with his left hand. He backed off slowly so as not to startle the Terran.

On the way out he made a small gesture to the Nll’nian in a space suit who had been humbly and discreetly following them. “Stay here when I leave,” he muttered into the helmet mike. “If there is any trouble, hold down that button!” He looked back at the lumbering slowness of his crewman in the big spacesuit, and the nervous quickness of the Terran who now lounged facing their way holding down the button and watching the Nll’nian with suspicion. He looked back with gloom. If there were any trouble the WIlyll’n would be thoroughly regurgitated. Gloomily he followed Chang into the Engine room.

Chang seated himself on a streamlined plastic housing and cheerfully began to talk. “Now, about the trading. This is a subject on which I am well qualified to negotiate a treaty, due to my Mongol ancestry. We Mongols have always been known for our sympathetic attitude toward traders. However, there remains the problem of overdeveloped and underdeveloped planets, a problem with which I am sure you and your distinguished colleagues are quite familiar, and of course its concomitant problem of the trade of colonial areas with the mother planets, as so admirably explicated by Wilberforce Throckbottom in his magnificent “Ballad of the Boston Tea Party,” a work which is regarded by my people as second in excellence only to our own national epic “Tarzan of the Apes.” But to return; all these and many other factors must of course be taken into account in any discussion of trade, and I assume you have done so as have we. Therefore, in the light of the aforementioned, we come to a question which might be, and indeed had been by many, regarded as basic—what have you got and what do you want?”

“Well… un … we havh rraw materialth of all tybhs…”

“So have we.”

“Ve havh many industries…” Bryllw was cursing mentally.

What did this clever clown think he was doing? He remembered the button and shivered. Were they preparing something worse?

“Perhaps something could be arranged there. It also seems that there might be a possibility of some sort of cultural exchange, such as beads, hatchets and other artifacts.”

“What?”

“I said that our exchange would perhaps be most wisely concentrated on manufactured goods of various types to be determined, and on cultural and scientific items, reflecting the various aspects of our two societies.”

“Oh, oh yes… cultural and… er… scientific, by all means scientific exchange. Great, uh, mutual benefit.” Like that infernal machine in the next room, he thought. Exchange me that! But the Terran was stalling in some way—there was something phony about it all.

[Hahn: “You guys just aren’t good liars, that’s all.”]

“Now as to the planet for trade center…I would suggest a dead planet of one of the stars near here. It is, of course, Terran, uh, territory, but we would be glad…”

“THE CAT!”

All hands in the engine room came erect and stood respectfully silent. A sleek, black-furred creature, small and walking on all fours, stepped delicately into the compartment, walked about sniffing at the men, climbed to a shelf to look at the viewscreen centered on one of the tubes, ambled about for five minutes or so, then walked out. The men relaxed. One went over and looked at the viewscreen, apparently to be sure everything was all right.

“That was the Chief.” said Chang in a low voice. “He takes a look around sometimes to make sure everything’s running all right.”

“He’s quite small,” said Bryllw. He should have expected something like this. These Terran clowns had no rank, they were just pretending to be in charge. That creature, whatever else it was, was obviously aware of its own superiority, an officer or better.

[“Good thing ol’ Strategic Gorilla wasn’t in the shop when the cat came in—we had to knock him off a table to keep him out of that electronic mishmash.”]

The Terran behind Chang stepped forward and murmured something Bryllw didn’t catch. It sounded like “Hooked.”

Chang smiled and continued. “Yes. He comes from the oldest intelligent race we have ever encountered, natives of the planet Erewhon. We find their advice invaluable.”

Advice? Bryllw thought. Who are they fooling—themselves?

[“Nice kitty… up here pretty kitty… that’s it. Go give Chang the word, I’ve got everything set.”]

A Terran appeared in the engineroom hatchway. “The Cat says he is ready to receive the strange beast now.”

Bryllw bristled, but he followed the messenger to a small compartment he had not seen before. The damned ship seemed to be honeycombed with all sorts of unlikely places. The room contained a viewscreen and a small bank of control knobs on a black panel, a small bookshelf at one end and a number of satiny cushions scattered about. At first the room seemed to be uninhabited, then he caught a hint of motion in the corner of his eye and whirled.

The Cat was there, looking down at him haughtily from a plastic pillar topped with a velvet cushion.

Bryllw waited for it to speak. The Cat inspected him with an insolent stare, then yawned and looked away with an affectation of indifference, inspecting the viewscreen. The screen showed the control room and his men.

Bryllw realized he was called upon to speak the first word. This creature’s manners were no better than those of the High Servants of Erdig. In fact, they were extremely similar… well, he had had some experience in dealing with aristocrats, although he looked back on the experience with relief that he had survived. Now he’d have some use for it.

“Excellency and Most Powerful,” he began. The Cat’s eyes returned to his with some small interest. Encouraged, he continued. “My government when they hear of vast area controlled by your people would like to send a ship with presents, and things for trade, so both our rulers will profit. You ask your slaves tell me where send ship so best trade with your people? This please to you, Wisest Excellency?”

The Cat stretched and yawned delicately, then returned its large luminous eyes to Bryllw. He found their gaze disturbing. The expression was calm, almost fond, filled with confidence too wise to be mere arrogance.

“Qrrrrlw? Prrrup?”

“The Wise One asks if it would please you if he and this ship escorted your ship back to your own home, for he would appreciate meeting more of your admirable species.”

The Cat stood up restlessly and looked at the interpreter more anxiously. “Meeerowwrr, meerowee.” After the previous insouciance, the change to concern and pleading aroused Bryllw’s cynicism. He watched the Cat suspiciously.

“The Cat wishes to inform you that you need have no fear. No race has lost anything of value by their associations with Cats. Cats are most humble and easy to please. They do not take advantage of their superiority, and they are not offended if an individual does not accept their advice. Cats are extremely rational.”

The Cat rubbed himself against the cushion with an affectionate, almost feminine gesture, looking at Bryllw with large round luminous eyes full of tender concern. It was a wonderful gesture, though perhaps a little bit overdone to be convincing. Bryllw stepped back uneasily, finding an unexpected desire in himself to have some wise and tender creature such as this to give him advice and protect him from the schemes of young and ruthless officers around him.

How could this alien creature of four legs so easily charm him? True, it was a graceful animal, with silky fur that even the most beautiful female of his young adventures would have envied and desired for her own cheeks and shoulders. And of course all aristocrats are trained in tact, having little else to do but converse. It was only typical of aristocrats that this animal had tact. But with a few gestures to give to Bryllw the idea that he would like to be ruled by this creature! It must be a lie. Under the velvet paw lay the steel claws—the creature’s wisdom and skill were weapons to fear. Bryllw took another step backward and suddenly saw the luminous eyes catch a reflection and flare into lambent wells of green flame. With eyes that radiated light the creature no longer looked like anything real. Fear of hypnosis struck him like a blow, and he looked away from the strange blazing eyes, barely keeping himself from striking out at them or running.

“Qrrmll. Mrrll meerrowwl.” The Cat’s voice was close and intimate. The translator’s voice seemed far away.

“He says those under his guidance aboard this small ship are very happy due to his wise advice. You can ask any one of them.”

This accounted for the smallness of the ship. It was merely a personal pleasure boat for the Cat, manned by his servants. The Terrans were deceiving themselves with their talk of equality and their “Federation”. It was no doubt a device of the Cat, trickery to keep them contented.

Suddenly he understood. The Cats were spreading in a great and growing empire of power more absolute than any Bryllw had ever seen using other species as slaves and keeping them in such hypnotic control that they thought they were free. What need to fear revolt, when the slaves think they are free and are sure they are in charge of their own destiny, merely requesting advice from you?

Bryllw shuddered violently. Thank the Elders he had not sent the regular Captain on this mission. The Idiot would have come back bearing the Cat on his shoulder for a “Visit” and they would all have been lost.

“Mrrrr,” the Cat said in a low confiding tone, settling down to a couchant position and fixing Bryllw steadily with his large affectionate eyes.

“He wished to know if he may visit your ship.”

Bryllw shuddered in spite of his control. “I will try arrange it,” he said, fearful that the Cat would see that he was lying.

The Cat suddenly leaned over and lay on its side looking at the ceiling languidly and said something in a gentle soothing sound like an affectionate growl. The sound evoked youthful memories in the aging Bryllw. He found himself charmed by the tone. Oh, but these aristocrats were charmers always, and masters of tact! But they would kill you without even bothering to get angry.

“He says that his little ship is not fast enough to keep up with yours, and so it would be a favor if you would return home slowly enough to allow him to follow you.” The pleasant affectionate growl continued. “He says he admires your fighting spirit and intelligence in understanding his meaning. He has personally taken a fondness to you, and would put you under his protection and do you any favors in his power when his people come into positions of influence in your empire. He is aware by your manner that you are not a trader, but a fighting man of much experience and little scruple, and he might even add you to his personal council.”

The Cat still lolled back, staring at the ceiling with a remote and affectionate gaze.

Bryllw, feeling himself to be in the most dangerous crisis of his life, was fascinated. How pleasantly this aristocrat had offered his bribe, how affectionately he had applied the oil and how obliquely shown the dagger!

It would not be safe to say either yes or no. With barely controlled haste he made apologies about diminishing air supply and hurried to the control room. “Come,” he growled to the men there, “We’re leaving.”

“But…”

“Shut up and move while you can move! Let’s get out of here and never mind asking questions!”

The Terran ship was slower. It would be safer to run than to fight.

Back on board the Wllyll’n, Bryllw stalled the Terran over the viewscreen while the ship made ready for maximum acceleration. Then everything was ready and the Wllyll’n suddenly accelerated under full power and departed.

As Bryllw’s thoughts blacked out under the bone-crushing acceleration, he was counting himself lucky to have escaped.

Chang sprawled on a lounging pad, wiping his face limply. “I never thought we’d work it. You guys could read his reactions but I had to guess. Diu! I’m beat.”

“We all are—never played bluff before. We didn’t do it too well. The only one with a good pokerface was Shadow.”

“THE CAT!” shouted Hahn. They all leapt to their feet, then relaxed.

“Ahh, cut it out, Hahn.”

“Give Shadow his bowl of milk or something.”

“How come the Nifni don’t keep pets?”

“I dunno—how come we do?”

“That’s the right answer,” said Uncle Pat. “I came around a bend in the trail and there I was face to face with this bloody big leopard. It snarled, and there was only room for one of us to get by, so I yelled like hell and charged straight at him, and he tried to turn around so fast he rolled over backward and rolled over the edge and rolled down the cliff, (it was about a seventy degree slope) yowling and screeching and hissing all the way and wound up down on another trail about a hundred feet below, and limped away. Didn’t even look up. He didn’t want to see me laughing.”

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