Fred's eyes scanned the assemblage uneasily. His eyes met those of the stone-faced mercenary in the back who arched one eyebrow in surprise, then slowly and solemnly winked at him.
What was up? Oh, well, they'd know soon enough. One of the mercenaries flanked by two others was approaching the podium. The chairman noted their approach and interrupted his speech. He stepped down and spoke briefly with the center mercenary. The delegates took advantage of the interruption to converse and shift back and forth. Fred watched the conversation. It seemed to be growing more heated. Suddenly the chairman broke away shaking his head angrily and started back for the podium. The mercenary he had been talking to gestured to one of his flankers. The man stepped in behind the chairman and chopped him across the back of the neck with his hand. The chairman crumpled to the floor.
Jesus Christ! What was going on? The delegates recoiled in horror as the mercenary dragged the chairman to a vacant seat where they deposited him in an unceremonious heap, then turned to face the assemblage. As their apparent leader took over the podium, the audience sank into silence.
"Well, folks, it looks like I'm going to have to do this without an introduction."
He paused as if expecting a laugh. There was only silence as the delegates watched him coldly.
"Some of you may recognize me as one of your mercenaries. We have a proposal to put before the council and..."
"What the hell is this?"
A voice rang out from the audience, which was quickly echoed by several other indignant delegates. Clancy raised his hand, and suddenly the other mercenaries were moving into position along the edge of the room, drawing their weapons as they went. The assemblage suddenly submerged into silence once more.
"I do apologize for the unorthodox nature of this presentation, but I'll have to ask that you hear me out before any questions are raised. What is more, I'll have to ask you to listen quietly and not make any sudden outbursts or movements. The boys are a little jumpy and we wouldn't want them to think you were getting hostile when you really weren't."
Fred shot a glance back at the stern-faced mercenary who shrugged as if to say he didn't know what was happening either.
"Now, as I was starting to say, we are a coalition of mercenaries. Our current employers are the people you refer to as the C-Block."
Fred felt his flesh turn cold. Commies! They were being held at gunpoint by a pack of Commies!
"We are relaying a proposal to you from our employers. What we are offering you is a lasting world peace. Now let me elaborate on that before everyone panics. In the past, when someone offers world peace, it's usually on their terms. 'Do things my way and nobody will get hurt!' Well, this isn't what we're saying. We aren't saying the free world should convert to communism, or that the Communists should go imperialistic. We are proposing a method by which both ideals can be left free to pattern their lives according to the dictates of their conscience and traditions."
Neat trick if you can do it. Fred was nonetheless interested.
"One of the purposes of this Council is to determine how much support you feel you should give the governments in the way of taxes. Part and parcel with this is an appraisal of how much they really need. We would suggest that the governments of the world can cut a major portion of their expense by disbanding their armed forces."
A murmur rippled through the delegates which quickly subsided as they remembered they were under the guns.
"What we propose to replace the multitude of individual armies with is one worldwide army of hard-core professionals, mercenaries if you will, paid equally by the corporations and the C-Block. It would be their job to maintain world peace, moving to block any country or group who attempted a forceful infringement on their neighbors. This was tried unsuccessfully once by the United Nations. It failed for two reasons. First, the nations still kept their armed forces, giving them a capacity for attacking each other; and second, the UN forces were not given adequate power to do their job. May I assure the assemblage that if we say we will stop a conflict, it will be stopped."
He smiled grimly at them. Not a person in the room doubted him.
"Now, there are several automatic objections which would be raised to such a force. The most obvious is the fear of a military takeover. In reply, I would point out that right now we could kill everyone in this room. The question is why? Any such army which abused its power would rapidly be confronted by several things. The first would be an armed uprising of the general populace. If every time we killed someone, five other people got upset and we had to kill them, eventually there would be no one left in the world but soldiers. We are not that kind of madmen. By definition, we are soldiers, not farmers or storekeepers. We are dependent on you for our livelihood. You don't kill the goose that lays the golden egg, and a sane man doesn't shoot his boss."
He paused. There was a thoughtful silence in the room.
"It might be pointed out that we have been operating in the C-Block for a number of years now in this capacity. They needed all available manpower for their rebuilding, so they cannibalized the army and turned the job of security over to us. It was a desperation move, but it's worked. The arrangement has proven beneficial to all concerned. I might add that to date there have been no attempted military takeovers. The only lingering fear is of a takeover attempt from outside the C-Block, which is why we are here. We offer you a cheap and lasting peace by subscribing to our services. There is no threat of invasion if there is no armed, organized invasion force."
His words hung in the air. Fred found himself trying to imagine a world without a threat of war.
"There is another, less pleasant objection which might be raised to this plan. I'm sure that as businessmen, it has occurred to you. War is good business. It can provide a vital shot in the arm to a sagging economy. Do we really want to eliminate war?
"Before I answer that question, let me point out another problem. How do we keep in training? If we are successful, if war becomes obsolete, if there is no enemy for us to train for, what is to keep us from becoming fat, lazy, and useless leeches?"
He smiled at the room.
"You in this room have given us an answer to both problems. For the last two years in the C-Block, we have been using your kill-suits in our training. Our main purpose was to provide hard training for our troops, but it had a surprising side product. Military maneuvers in kill-suits have emerged as a spectator sport of astounding popularity. We have developed various categories of competition and regular teams have formed, each with their followers and fans. Apparently, once the populace becomes accustomed to the fact that no real injuries or deaths are incurred, they find it far more enjoyable than movies or television. Certain of our mercenaries have become minor celebrities and occasionally have to be guarded from autograph-seeking fans."
There was a low buzz of conversation going as he continued.
"Now this means that not only does the military industry continue, but that there is an unexpected windfall of a new spectator sport. I am sure I do not have to elaborate for this assemblage the profits latent in proper handling of a spectator sport."
This time he actually got a low ripple of laughter in response to his joke. Even Fred found himself chortling. Don't teach your grandmother to steal sheep, sonny.
"Well, I feel I have used up enough of your time on the proposal. I'd ask that you discuss it among yourselves and with your superiors. We will be back in a week, at which time we will be ready to answer any and all questions you might have. I would like to apologize for the tactic of holding you at gunpoint, but we were not certain what your initial reaction would be to our appearance. I will pay you the compliment of telling you the guns are loaded. We are more than slightly afraid of you. You are dangerous men. Thank you."