Schön could tell by the shade of its carapace that it was suspicious. “Obviously you suspect me of being a representative of a hostile power, since I perceive you are on a war, er, footing here.” The hesitation reflected the creature’s absence of feet. “Obviously, too, I could be a spy or saboteur, since the ability to penetrate your defenses without observation is a requisite for that trade. And my direct approach to you is no guarantee that my motives are innocent; I could be holding a radiation bomb triggered to go off the moment you blast me. That would be my employer’s guarantee that my failure to insinuate myself into your military machine could not lead to awkward exposure of his vile designs. I would naturally prefer to preserve my life and quietly gather whatever useful information I could while maintaining scrupulous cover. I should for that reason be an excellent employee of yours, since suspicion would naturally center on my activities and only months or years of excellent and unimpeachable service could dissipate this doubt — by which time the present crisis should long since be over and my employer could be allied to yours. But if I cannot accomplish this, at least my employer may have the satisfaction of knowing that a cubic mile of this planet’s lithosphere — perhaps a trifle less, if the shoddy workmanship of the past is any criterion — has been rendered uninhabitable by my radioactive demise. Two of my three minutes are done; you may keep the third.”
The creature paused, almost as though in doubt. “Will you accede to fluoroscopic examination?”
“Certainly. But that could be construed as an uncertainty on your part that your superiors would surely question. It would be wiser to blast me right now, before any such complications develop.”
“If you are armed as you describe, that would be disastrous.”
“Perhaps I am bluffing. A bluff is certainly cheaper than a bomb, particularly in these days of runaway inflation.”
“If you are bluffing, then you are probably not a spy and there is no need to blast you. In fact it could be an inadequacy on my record. If you are not bluffing—”
“There is something in what you say, and I commend your perspicacity. Still, I must point out that I could be a real spy who is bluffing merely about the bomb. That is more likely, don’t you agree, than my being an innocent person with a bomb.”
“If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have a bomb.”
Schön shrugged in eloquent defeat not untinged with a hint of well-concealed bad grace. “Have it your way.”
“Assuming that you are a spy, whether armed or unarmed, how could I best deal with you without risking my own life or record?”
“That’s an excellent question. You will no doubt think of much better alternatives, but all that occurs to me at the moment is the possibility of referring the case to your immediate superior, as a matter warranting his discretion.”
It was expeditiously done. After an essentially similar dialogue, Schön was bounced up another link in the chain of command. And another. Eventually he spoke to the chief of intelligence.
“We are satisfied that you are what you claim to be,” the Chief said. “Namely, a talented alien in need of employment. You are also of a physical stock not on record in the galactic speciology, but you are too clever to have been trained on a primitive planet. The probability is, then, that you are a spy for someone — but we hesitate to interrogate you thoroughly until we can be sure you are not an observer from a quote friendly unquote or at least neutral power. Since we have at the moment only one potential enemy and several thousand potential allies, and since we are not adverse to assistance, it behooves us to deal cautiously with you. Probability suggests you are an asset — but how can we minimize the risk?”
“Just don’t try to send me to any temple of Baal.”
“Pardon?”
“It would be expeditious to offer me compensation that is somewhat greater than the amount my overt services warrant. That way, I would be inclined to transfer my allegiance to you, in the event it was not already with your planet. Spies are notoriously underpaid, you know.”
The Chief vibrated a follicle against his beak. “Surely you realize that this is a ridiculous proposition? We would not possibly—”
Schön sighed. “Of course you are right. A captaincy in your navy would be an unheard of reward for a suspected spy, however meritorious his service.”
“Who said anything about — !” the Chief began, his shell crackling with righteous indignation. “A captaincy! I was thinking of Third Lieutenant, J. G., apprentice, probationary.”
Captain Schön docked his sleek destroyer and gave his crew thirty-hour planetary leave while the ship underwent preventive maintenance. He set the thermostat within his flame-red cloak of authority to an invigorating sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit, making the mental conversion to local units effortlessly. The few civilians passing him on the street saluted with alacrity; he ignored them. Protocol did no require that an officer return courtesy to any person more than three grades below him, and of course civilians were beneath rank.
He mounted the ramp of the capital and brushed past the rigid guards. The other officers were already assembled in the presidential suite: the five supreme individuals of the planet, gathered about the giant semicircular table. The Monarch, the Prime Minister, the Fleet Admiral, the Chief of Intelligence and the Chancellor of the Exchequer — all waiting somberly for the meeting to begin.
Schön took his place. Not one of the others was particularly pleased at his presence, but they did not dare to make a key decision without him. They knew he was clever enough to foil anything arranged without his consent.
The Prime Minister elevated himself, lifting his venerable thorax above the table. “Gentlemen — we have received an ultimatum from the Hegemony of Lion. We are met here to consider our response.”
The Monarch turned to him. “A précis, if you please.”
“Surrender of all military equipment together with attached personnel. Deportation of hostages to Lion, as itemized. Indemnities. Reconstruction.”
“Standard contract,” the Chief observed.
“All present of this council appear on the hostage list?” the Monarch inquired.
The Minister rattled agreement. “All but the Captain. Together with households.”
The Chancellor coughed. “Households! That means our daughters get dinked.”
“Good for them, I’m sure,” the Chief muttered.
The Chancellor inflated angrily, but the Monarch cut him off by speaking again. “How strict are the indemnities?”
“Standard. Ten percent of Gross Planetary Product for Ram and environs, fifteen percent for subsidiary worlds. Exploitation of subsequently developed offworld resources, fifty percent.”
“Too high,” the Admiral said. “They should not get more than twenty percent of windfall acquisitions.”
“Academic, since we won’t have our navy,” the Chief pointed out. “No ships, no loot — unless you plan to refit merchant vessels for your piracy.”
“Piracy!”
“Gentlemen, let’s not quibble over terminology in this time of crisis,” the Monarch said. “The question is, do we acquiesce?”
“No!” the Admiral exclaimed. “We have the space fold coordinates of their main system updated to the second. We have the missiles for an inundation strike. Act now, and we can wipe them out. Solve the problem once and for all.”