Macroscope

But the wiser cultures saw it for what it was — and could not cry the alarm before the consequences were upon them.

The stellar constellation known on Earth as Aries was not a true association of stars at all, for some were relatively close to the planet and others were far removed, in that apparent region of space. Yet this could be construed as a segment of the galaxy, and within it were numerous cultures. In this time of interstellar travel, empires were forming; and it was to one of these that Schön journeyed.

As Ivo had found himself at the Hegemony of Tyre, so Schön landed on an Earth-type but alien planet, feeling its gravity and breathing its atmosphere. There was vegetation, similar in function if not in detail to that of Earth, and there was what passed for civilization.

The planet appeared to be at war.

Schön assimilated the situation almost immediately. He proceeded to the nearest recruiting office. “I am a talented alien in need of employment,” he said to the boothed official.

The beetle-browed, facet-eyed creature contemplated him. “I grant you are alien — sickeningly so,” it honked. “If you are verbally talented, I suggest you make use of your ability to show cause why I should not vaporize you where you stand on your repulsive meaty digits, in three minutes or less.”

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 i

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 i

“If you were i

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 perso

“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.”