IT WAS UNFAIR, we were able to tell ourselves. Unjust that we should be so judged by alien races the nearest of whom lived an incomprehendible number of million miles away.
Unfair, above all, that Earth's fate was to be in the hands of but one representative of this Galactic Union. One person --- or was the term thing? --- to be judge and jury of all Earth.
Unjust, we were able to tell ourselves, but there was little, if anything, that we could do about it.
But we were prepared to try.
We had months to plan. And we planned.
He arrived at the spaceport in New Albuquerque, Earth's first and only spaceport, and his vessel was small and ethereally beautiful with its mother-of-pearl sheen. And surprised we were to find he was completely alone, without assistants, servants, or even guards. And that, we thought, might simplify things considerably.
The delegation to meet him numbered but six. After long debate, that had been decided best. A small group would be quicker with decisions, quicker at meeting the unforeseen and forestalling it. So there were but six of them --- six of the most astute minds of the world powers, united as never before to solve a common problem and to avert a common catastrophe.
Yes, the delegation proper numbered six, but behind them, ready to their beck and call, ready twenty-four hours of the day, were tens of thousands. Scientists, soldiers, statesmen, religious leaders, technicians in every field -- standing by to assist the six.
Oh, we had prepared the best we could.
He was young, this representative of the Galactic Union come to judge Earth. Young, bright of eye, obviously capable, and courteous. But courtesy, we knew too well, could be the thinnest of silken gloves over the fist of power. And he wielded power.
Had he been an Earthling, he could have been described as follows: Perhaps thirty years of age; dark complexioned, friendly, open face; thin nose; brown eyes, very soft and sympathetic; black hair; about five foot nine; about one hundred fifty-five; possibly French or Italian. And very courtly, very polite --- almost to the extreme.
He answered the greetings with a slight bow and said, "Gentlemen, My name is Mari Pos and I am from Borl, one of the Aldebaran planets. As you know, I have been sent from the Galactic Union --- for purposes of which you are already aware."
The words, beautifully spoken in English, went over concealed television cameras to a thousand receivers whose observers were checking his every facial expression, his every characteristic, his every word.
And from these listeners the orders went out to the tens of thousands standing by -- the united forces of Earth.
He is humanoid. Put Department 32K to work immediately. He is from Borl, of the Aldebaran System. Put the IBM machines on that. What do we know of the Aldebaran System and particularly of Borl? Have we anything on the name Pos, or the name Mari? On Borl is the family name first or last? Have we anything on his family?
Check, check, check. Earth is at stake. What chink can we find at which to work? What weakness does he possess?
He is humanoid. He is young. He is handsome. He is ambitious, or he would not be at such an important post so early in life.
The punched cards flicked through the IBM machines, sorting out the information we had on the planet Borl of the Aldebaran System, of the Galactic Union.
Bi-sexual race. Highly developed civilization. Inveterate collectors of the art of "backward" planets.
Click, click, click. Cards going through the sorters at the rate of four hundred and fifty a minute. Seeking, seeking, seeking.
By the time the Earth delegation, escorting the representative of the Galactic Union, had reached the edge of the spaceport, a Collator had thrown a punched card into a selection hopper and a light burned red. The card was hurried to the Alphabetic Printer and the words typed out: Borl --- Narcotics are practically unknown upon.
The delegation escorted him to the penthouse of the luxury hotel in which he was to stay, and as they ushered him into his swank living room, another Collator, of an almost endless bank of Collators, threw another red light and seconds later the Printer spelled out: Borl --- Relation between sexes upon --- Romantic love, monogamous family.
Five of the six shortly bowed themselves out with murmured excuses that the honored representative from the Galactic Union must be weary and that they would wait upon him later. Only Harold Hotchkiss remained for a final word.
Mari Pos said, "This isn't really necessary, you know. We could conclude our business now. I don't need the rest."
Hotchkiss said, in a servile voice which would have shocked a few hundred politicians over whom he had walked rough-shod in his long years as hatchetman of President Corcoran, "We thought a few hours for you to become acclimated. ... We thought it might be more suitable if we began fresh in the morning."
The other shrugged pleasantly. "Very well, as you wish. However, you know, I must be through here and on my way by tomorrow noon. I am afraid I am in too unfortunate a hurry to be able to enjoy your hospitality for more than a few hours."
A few hours! That was bad. We had to work fast, fast, fast.
Harold Hotchkiss wet his lips nervously and went to the center table of the apartment. On it sat a delicately carved Chinese lacquer box. He took it up and extended it.
"We have heard," Hotchkiss said, "That you of Borl are great lovers of ... of primitive art. As a token of our esteem, we would be honored if you would accept these slight specimens of our artistic endeavors."
Mari Pos nodded his appreciation and opened the small chest. His eyes widened. He put in a hand and brought forth a ruby the size of a pigeon egg, perfect and flawless and mounted in a froth of delicately worked gold.
"But, this ---"
"One of the planet's rarer stones, Your Excellency," Hotchkiss murmered. "An Indian Prince was thoughtful enough to donate it, and several of the other pieces you see. I understand the stone's history is long and interesting."
The Aldebaranian smiled again, and nodded his appreciation and thanks, closed the box and returned it to the table. There was the slightest suggestion of a frown on his dark, handsome face. Slight, but instantly picked up by the television cameras secretly focused upon the scene. A hundred psychologists went instantly to work to attempt to analyze his feelings.
Harold Hotchkiss swore inwardly. This had been a poorly thought out move. Until they knew more of values on Borl, a bribe was ridiculous. Perhaps diamonds, rubies, emeralds, were as common as pebbles on the Galactic Union representative's home planet.
Hotchkiss said smoothly, "We know little of Borl, here on Earth, or for that matter, of any of our neighbors in space." There was self-depreciation in his voice. "Of course, we have been aware of the Galactic Union's existence for less than a decade. Interchange of knowledge, of art forms, trade -- has been only negligible thus far. For instance ..." he brought this out nonchalantly "... we haven't the vaguest knowledge of your means o exchange, your monetary system. Do you use rare metals; perhaps gold, platinum, radium? What is of extreme value on your planet Borl?"
Mari Pos had strode to the large studio window and was gazing out over the small city of New Alberquerque and the countryside beyond.
He said, "Our economy, Mr. Hotchkiss, has progressed beyond the point where we use a system of exchange similar to that of your Earth Nations."
Hotchkiss repressed his feeling of irritation. This made it harder. "But certainly the citizens of Borl have some objects of great value?"
The other murmered, "You have a beautiful planet, Mr. Hotchkiss; your people are fortunate." Then, facing his host again, "No, I am afraid not. We have various rare stones and metals, and they are sometimes used decoratively, as are your own. But few of them are owned personally. They reside in museums, in art galleries, where they can be viewed by all. I shall be pleased to turn your gift over to such a museum."
So that was out.
And at the other end of the television cameras, we stood anxiously. A dozen couriers went out, a hundred messages over the phones, at each sentence he spoke. And our IBM machines, our cybernetic brains, clicked and clattered; assimilating, sorting, trying to find our answer.
Precious metals, precious stones, mean nothing to him. The rarest of Earth's treasures had been taken lackidasically. They meant little, a gift for an Aldebaran museum.
Earth is at stake. He is here to judge, this handsome, courteous, gentle, young Aldebaran. Here to judge.
and we know we are wanting.
Harold Hotchkiss led him to another table, a lengthy sideboard, groaning with foods, wines, liquors.
He motioned to the fare. "I am afraid that we are not as familiar with your foods and beverages as we should wish. As I have said, our intercourse has been incomplete. But I trust that here you may find some refreshment ..."
Mari Pos said charmingly, "How pleasant! I am sure that any needs I have will be filled." He picked up a sandwich, bit into it, and nodded approvingly.
Hotchkiss said, "And now, I'll leave you for the evening, Your Excellency. Tomorrow, when you arise, we will wait upon you again.
"Splendid, Mr. Hotchkiss; although, I assure you, if you would rather, the work could be done tonight. The rest isn't really necessary; I am not at all fatigued by my trip."
"Good night, Your Excellency."
"Good night, Mr. Hotchkiss."
In the corridor outside the apartment, Harold Hotchkiss let excess air from his lungs and wiped his forehead with his breast pocket handkerchief. A veteran of innumerable political conclaves, conventions, and even International conferences, he had never been so mentally and physically drained. It wasn't that the other was difficult --- but never had there been so much at issue.
He hurried after the other members of the welcoming delegation.
And in another building an Alphabetic Printer was typing up the scant information we had on Aldebaran women, subdivision, Borl.
Brunette. Average height, five two. Average weight, one ten. Brown eyes. Latin type. Beauty characteristics most similar to those of Spain, Italy.
There was other and more intimate information on the women of Borl and the relationship of the sexes there. And as it typed out, a score of specialists studied anxiously.
* * * * * * *
She knocked on the door gently and he said, "Come in, if you please."
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her and said softly, "May I enter?"
"By all means." His eyes were slightly wider than they had been before. "What may I do for you?"
The faintest of smiles beautified the corners of her delicate mouth. She stepped closer to him. "The question is -- what may I do for you?"
He considered briefly, then shook his head. "I am afraid there is nothing I require, Miss --"
"Consuelo. My name is Consuelo ... Mari." She held her arms down at her sides, palms toward him. "Do you not think me attractive?"
"Most attractive." The tone of his voice had changed subtly.
She turned for him, as a model would turn for his approval. "Am I as the women of Borl? Am I as beautiful as they?"
The frown was on his face. He took another small sandwich from the sideboard, as though seeking something to do with his hands. As he bit into it, he looked at her again.
"There must be very few who are as beautiful as you ... Consuelo," he said finally. "On Borl or elsewhere. And on Borl beauty is striven for above all else."
She smiled and half extended her arms toward him. "Long months ago, when we first knew you were to come, we held world-wide beauty contests," she said. "And they judged each type of beauty our planet provides. Had you been brown in complexion, as are the men of Sirius, we had found the most beautiful Asiatic of all. Had you been ---"
"I see," he said.
Her hand went slowly and deliberately to the jeweled clasp that held her gown at the left shoulder.
He shook his head. "I am afraid there is nothing, Consuelo. But thank you. You are most gracious -- and most beautiful."
Her smile died. "But ..."
"I am afraid there is nothing, Consuelo."
Her head went down in defeat. "Perhaps someone else -"
"Thank you, but no."
She turned slowly and left him, and he stood watching after her until long after the door had closed. There was pain in his eyes. Pain and a longing.
In the morning, the delegation of six found him seated at the desk of the large library-study of his apartment. He was perusing several heavy tomes with keen interest, but he came to his feet instantly upon their arrival.
"Gentlemen," he said, smiling his welcome.
They greeted him stiffly and in moments had found chairs, with the exception of Harold Hotchkiss who stood, obviously the spokesman. The eyes of the other five went to President Corcoran's hatchetman.
Hotchkiss cleared his throat. "We have come to hear your decision, Your Excellency."
Six pairs of eyes were on the Aldebaranian.
He said slowly, "Gentlemen, for the sake of the majority concerned, I am afraid that I must rule against you."
There was a heavy silence.
"I am sorry, gentlemen," he added.
Hotchkiss brought forth his handkerchief and wiped his mouth carefully. His eyes went to the others, and each of them nodded infinitesimally.
He cleared his throat again, almost apologetically, and said, "Your Excellency, what I am about to say is most difficult ..."
The representative of the Galactic Union nodded, "Continue, Mr. Hotchkiss."
"This means more to us," Hotchkiss said, "than possibly you can understand. More to our planet --"
The Aldebaranian held up a hand. "Please. I know how much it means, believe me. Unfortunately, my decision must stand."
And now the voice of President Corcoran's right hand was as though no others present. As though he were talking to himself. "So much does it mean,: he said softly, "that we decided long ago that nothing, nothing, must stand in our way. We hve tried what we could to bring you to our way of thinking, to see the desirability of your deciding in our favor. --- Unfortunately, with no success."
He paused and Mari Pos nodded. "I am sorry," the Aldebaranian repeated sadly.
Hotchkiss went on, his voice soft, almost silk-like. "We have, on this planet, Your Excellency, various chemical compounds unknown, evidently, on the Aldebaran worlds. We checked it. "For over a year, our most capable scientists have been developing, investigating, evolving these narcotics so that their forces apply to every life form with which we are familiar in the Galactic Union. When you first arrived, and we discovered your origin, we made immediate efforts to subject you to one particularly suited to your metabolism."
Mari Pos said nothing, but a flatness had come to his eyes.
The Earthling continued, "When you ate, when you drank, you assimilated it. So powerful is its nature, Your Excellency, that you are already, unknowingly, addicted." He shot a quick glance to his watch again. "Within one minute, no more, your body will demand this drug. Demand it so insistently, that you must have it immediately or your whole being will be racked with agonies never before known to you."
His face tightened, and Harold Hotchkiss finished abruptly, "Your Excellency, we must demand that your decision against us be reversed."
Mari Pos had remained seated during this. Now he arose and turned his back to them to stare again out the window. "It is most unfortunate," he said. "It is a beautiful planet. Its potentialities are endless."
The six were looking at their watches, varying degrees of satisfaction reflected on their faces.
He continued to watch the surrounding countryside, and, as the minutes passed, their expressions changed.
The face of Harold Hotchkiss paled. He muttered, fiercely, unbelievingly, "Inhuman. You're utterly inhuman!"
The Aldebaranian turned and there was compassion on his face. "Of course, I am inhuman," he said. "I am an android, gentlemen --- a robot might be the more familiar word. I am afraid that I am incapable of response to your drugs, your bribes -- the charms of your most beautiful women. You see, it would be most unfair for the Galactic Union to send forth on such a fateful assignment, a being subjected to human weaknesses."
"Gentlemen, your planet isn't ready for membership in the Galactic Union such as you have requested. The very fact that you have taken the measures you have to insure my approval of your request, is the best indication that you are not prepared for such a responsibility, that your race is immature."
He ended gently, "I am infinitely distressed, but I am afraid that I must recommend that the quarantine of Earth be continued until your race has evolved to the point where they are suited for free association with the civilized planets of the Galaxy. I am afraid you have far to go."
-Mack Reynolds
(Data entered by Judy Bemis)