“That illustrates one of our concerns,” Gadagal responded immediately. “Laws differ from culture to culture. We might inadvertently insult you or your society, as we did when we used Major Lubchek’s voice as the basis for our translator. Some cultures would have sought to obtain unfair concessions from us in exchange for agreeing to overlook our purely unintended breach of etiquette. That is why we must have what you call diplomatic immunity from all crimes or cultural infractions before we can begin serious discussions.”
Hunter waited a fraction of a second, but Atlas had no comment to make. “Very well,” he said. “You hereby have full diplomatic immunity, with the understanding, however, that we may expel you from our planet if you commit what we consider to be a serious infraction.” “Which would be what?” Meurchong asked.
“Killing me would qualify as one,” said Hunter with a twisted smile.
“We assure you that your physical well being is not in the slightest danger from us.”
“And,” Hunter added, “you do understand that your diplomatic immunity only applies to the actions of my government. In spite of all our precautions, we cannot fully guarantee that some mentally unstable person might not try to harm you.”
“But you—and those in authority—do agree that you will do your best to protect us from any harm?”
“Yes, that is agreed,” Hunter said. *Atlas, am I wrong, or does it seem to you that these Trajendi have gone through this same routine a few times before?*
*Many, many times, I would think. Keep them talking. I believe that in a short time I will be able to read their visual communications directly.*
“We have made an excellent beginning, Gadagal,” said Hunter, displaying what he considered an idiot’s smile. “What shall we discuss next?”
It was late the next day, possibly at a time when the Trajendi judged Hunter might be too tired to notice, that they tried their first major ploy. Until then they had dealt either with mundane issues or small but fundamental points that, when a conflict arose, they grudgingly allowed Hunter to win. Just like a good poker hustler, commented Hunter to Atlas. Let the sucker win a few hands so that he thinks he’s better than he is. Then, when he’s sure he can’t lose, nail him.
“I would like our agreement to confirm our right to what you call ‘equal treatment under the law,’ ” Gadagal began innocently enough.
“Please explain.”
“If an extraterritorial ship should land in one of the areas designated by the treaty and act in conformance with the terms of the treaty, the crew would wish to be assured that they would have the protection of your laws. If they have been promised consideration for their cargo, they would want your courts to enforce their rights under that contract to the same extent as would be given to your own citizens.”
*Watch out,* Atlas interjected. *His fluid pressure in that hindquarters area that I have tentatively identified as his heart has just jumped 11 percent and his breathing has also accelerated.*
“So,” murmured Hunter cautiously, “you want the treaty to provide that the ship owner will be able to enforce the terms of shipping contracts in Terran courts?”
“Of course; but it would be more efficient to simply provide that we would be subject to your laws to the same extent as humans are. This would be advantageous to you as well in that it would make our crewmen subject to your own justice and to your own courts.”
“For example?” Hunter asked, wondering where the Trajendi was leading.
“Suppose that one of us wished to operate one of your land vehicles and lost control and caused some damage to persons or property. You would certainly want him to be subject to your financial-responsibility and criminal laws.”
Hunter tipped his stylus on its point and slowly released it. *Conference,* he called to Atlas just as the stylus began to topple—
Instantly he found himself sitting in the shade of the sycamore tree at their garden conference table. The crafty, weather-beaten face of Cyrus looked back at him, the guileless pale blue eyes unblinking.
*What is he after?* Hunter asked.
*He certainly isn’t worried about automobile accidents or criminal charges. His vital signs dipped down to their rest state when he began talking about them driving a car. The idea is ridiculous on its face.*
*It’s pretty clear that he wants them to have exactly the same rights in our courts as we do. But what does that get him? And, for that matter, why shouldn’t they have them?*
*It isn’t merely the same rights as humans have in court,* Cyrus responded. *It’s the same overall rights as humans have throughout our society.*
*Hmmm. Would that mean not only the right to sue and to be sued, but the also the right to make and enforce contracts?*
*Absolutely. But that’s just the beginning. It also implies the right to buy from and to sell to humans. To have, in other words, unfettered trade.*
*But we’re going to negotiate trade rights separately! He knows that.*
*Ahhh, we have agreed that we will negotiate the trade of all alien products separately.* Cyrus leaned forward and tapped Hunter’s hand with the tip of a wrinkled finger. *But will we separately negotiate alien trade rights in human products between human buyers or sellers? What if the aliens hire human agents to buy and sell for them? This, I would say, is the particular horsefly in the buttermilk that the Trajendi are trying to sneak past us. That, and the surmise that with their advanced technology, they could set up a factory to manufacture gold or diamonds or electricity or whatever and then use those profits to buy up whatever they wanted.*
Hunter paused to consider Cyrus’s words. *I see what you mean,* he said finally. *And the key thing is we don’t know what we’re sitting on that they really want. Maybe it’s land. Maybe organic compounds. Maybe recordings of our brain waves while we play baseball or horseshoes. Maybe they want to set up retirement homes here, or time-sharing plans, or vacation resorts. Suppose they were to sell some other species of alien customers the right to vacation or retire on Earth? Alien number two shows up, complies with the treaty, and settles in for a year or so. In the meantime, the Trajendi have already built up a treasury-sized bank account in Terran money by selling us cut-rate platinum or something of the sort, and now their customers get the use of that money to live like kings, the way some Americans used to do in Central America.*
*Exactly,* agreed Cyrus. *I suspect that the wording Gadagal will propose will not be limited to the Trajendi, but will include any other extraterrestrials they may nominate.*
*And,* Hunter concluded, *I’ll bet a lobster boat to a blueberry muffin that it will not be limited to crew members but will include passengers and immigrants too.* He smiled grimly at Cyrus. *I think it’s time we went back and let the air out of Gadagal’s balloon.*
—The stylus made a dull click as it struck the glossy green surface of the Trajendi table.
“I am sure that we will be able to come to an equitable disposition of this issue, Gadagal,” said Hunter agreeably.