Chapter 3

Lord Schleim was not the least bit rattled. He knew exactly what he was doing: he was now applying a maxim of diplomacy which stated that when diplomacy failed, one resorted to military means.

It had become obvious to him in these last few minutes that if he continued along the previous course, he would lose. So he had shifted his entire planning suddenly and irrevocably.

These were very troubled times. He felt the power of the small gray man had crumbled and that things were not what they used to be. Therefore, any threat of retaliation from the small gray man could be ignored. This was the first emissary meeting in over a year and he was completely certain that the power of the emissaries and collective governments had become a shadow that was no real danger to Tolnep-these empires and states were too far away.

He had just given Half-Captain-now Captain Snowl just today– very specific orders. He had used a word code known only to officers of flag rank and executives high in the Tolnep government. Using one set of words, one could convey quite another meaning. Additionally, the radio band used was hyper-nondirectional, known only to the Tolneps, and could not be picked up on any other radio except those used by flag officers and the diplomatic service, a band which was constantly running on the bridge of every Tolnep major war vessel. And if that weren't safe enough, the transmissions were also scrambled.

Schleim had just ordered Rogodeter Snowl to send the ships of other combatants to the terrestrial points being defended by the Earthlings, to gather up all Tolnep forces, and to proceed with all speed to the conference location. He had told Snowl to totally disregard any and all conference warnings of the small gray man.

Since the bulk of the Tolnep vessels were at Singapore, a little over forty-five hundred miles away– quite close, really– they would arrive over this spot in about two hours.

Schleim had, in the bottom of his scepter, on the opposite end from the radio, a paralysis beam. All he had to do was give the end of it a twist and every person or creature within hearing would become instantly paralyzed except himself: a tap on his own ears first would close his deaf-flaps. This entire conference was at his mercy. All he had to do was get them all outside in the bowl on some pretext so that any and all guards were also within hearing distance, listen for the first signs of the arrival of his fleet, tap his own ears, and twist the bottom of the scepter.

Tolnep diplomats were chosen for bravery as well as wits. He would pick up a gun and shoot his way to the switches of the armor cable if necessary, turn it off, and let his fleet marines in.

As to this teleportation console, he really couldn't care less. Tolnep would be better off if it were destroyed– a nation that based its economy on slavery was always under some kind of threat and this teleportation had interfered with Tolnep far more than it had helped.

He himself was within flying distance of home. The other combatants were also and would have to bow to his commands or be killed. As for the rest of these emissaries, how they got home if ever was no concern of his.

And dead emissaries and a dead litter of terrestrial personnel told no tales, especially when buried.

He would of course go through the motions of torturing this devil and try to get the teleportation design out of him. If the devil died in the process, it did not matter.

But the cream of the jest was that, if anything went wrong, he would use the devil's own arguments to defend himself. He would claim that Rogodeter Snowl had turned pirate, that he had acted contrary to orders and that his approach to this conference was an outlaw act. He knew he could depose and execute Snowl and still command the Tolnep crews. Snowl would simply be sacrificed for the greater good of the state– a common expedient in such diplomatic circles.

Schleim could even mop up the other belligerents using the Tolnep fleet if it came to that.

It was very neat planning.

The only thing he had to solve now was how to get this entire conference out into the bowl.

He was now feeling so confident he was hardly even listening to this devil as he resumed his actions. Whatever the devil did would be useless, without avail.

Tolerantly, Lord Schleim sat back and lent half an ear to the continuing proceedings.

Diplomacy was, indeed, quite an art. But if it failed, there was always force.

He fingered the bottom end of his scepter.

He tuned the rest of his hearing in to catch the first rumbles of his fleet in the sky.

Chapter 4

There had been a delay while a technician changed the cartridges in the atmosphere projector.

The emissaries, seeing that Jonnie was again about to speak, settled down.

“My lords,” said Jonnie. “I do appreciate your indulgence in permitting me to clean up the remaining bits of this odious Tolnep matter. Indeed, I am impressed by your patience. I assure you we may soon be able to proceed with the legitimate concerns of such an authoritative group.” The influence of the polite instruction discs of the Chinkos was coming in very handy now. These lords, except for the combatants, were definitely on his side.

Jonnie stood tall in the mine spotlight.

His buttons flashed. The dragon on the helmet seemed to move as he turned his head to Lord Schleim.

"Tolnep," said Jonnie, with disdain and contempt in the word, “I have some views that were taken while the conference was verifying credentials. I am going to ask you to identify certain things for me.”

Schleim sat back easily, quite composed now. “Go ahead, devil,” he said almost airily.

Jonnie looked at him closely. What had caused this sudden calm? Was it just an exhibition of diplomatic supercontrol? Schleim was, after all, a clever and well-trained diplomat.

With a deft touch of switch buttons, the mine spotlight went off and a new view appeared, filling all the empty space in the room to Jonnie's left. It was a remarkable shot. The emissaries sat up and peered, very interested.

There, just as though seen from the port of a spaceship, bright and clear, projected in three dimensions upon the empty air, was the whole system where the Tolnep planet rode in the ninth ring. The huge combination sun, a double star with the small companion circling the larger orb, shed its double-shadowed light upon the vast system of planets and their moons. The name of the system was Batafor in the Psychlo coordination books, "Sirius" or the “Dog Star” in the ancient man-constellation charts.

“Is this Batafor?” Jonnie asked Lord Schleim.

The Tolnep laughed. "If you took the shot, you know what it is. Why ask me?”

Jonnie searched out the Hawvin in the second row with his wand as a pointer. “Perhaps the regal emissary of the Hawvins might care to assist us. Is this the Batafor System?”

The Hawvin had been regretting his involvement in all this for some time. His nation was a traditional enemy of the Tolneps and had suffered much in times past from their slave raids. He had begun to suspect that there were penalties and reparations coming up sometime soon. This “spirit of Earth” seemed to have been taking pains to exclude the other combatants, and he had seen a possibility of escaping censure if it all went wrong here– as it definitely seemed to be doing. Best curry some favor. He could see no danger in it.

He rose and came forward and Jonnie handed him his wand with the pointer beam turned on.

The Hawvin waved the beam generally across the system. “I recognize and attest this is indeed the Batafor System. That is the old Psychlo name. We locally call the double sun 'Twino' which stands for 'Mother and Child' in the Hawvin tongue.”