A World by the Tale, Page 2

his"The Ecology of the Martian Polar Regions" had attracted a hundredthof the publicity and sold a hundredth of the number of copies that"Interstellar Ark" had sold, he would have been gratified indeed. Butthe way things stood, he found the whole affair irksome.

  Jackson looked at his notebook as if he expected to see answerswritten there instead of questions. Then he looked back up at McLeod."All right then, professor, what about this afternoon's conference._That_ isn't a matter of public record."

  "And technically it isn't any of your business, either," McLeod saidtiredly. "But since you have the whole conversation down on tape, Idon't see why you bother asking me. I'm well aware that you can pickup conversations in my apartment."

  Jackson pursed his lips and glanced at another of the agents, whoraised his eyebrows slightly.

  McLeod got it in spite of the fact that they didn't intend him to. Hisplace was bugged, all right, but somehow the Galactic had managed tonullify their instruments! No wonder they were in such a tizzy.

  McLeod smiled, pleased with himself and with the world for the firsttime that afternoon. He decided, however, that he'd better volunteerthe information before they threatened him with the Planetary SecurityAct. That threat would make him angry, he knew, and he might saysomething that would get him in real trouble.

  It was all right to badger Jackson up to a certain point, but it wouldbe foolish to go beyond that.

  "However," he went on with hardly a break, "since, as you say, it isnot a matter of public record, I'm perfectly willing to answer anyquestions you care to ask."

  "Just give us a general rundown of the conversation," Jackson said."If I have any questions, I'll ... uh ... ask them at the propertime."

  * * * * *

  McLeod did the best he could to give a clear picture of what theGalactic had wanted. There was really very little to it. The Galacticwas a member of a race that McLeod had never seen before: a humanoidwith red skin--fire-engine, not Amerindian--and a ratherpleasant-looking face, in contrast to the rather crocodilian featuresof the Galactic resident. He had introduced himself by anun-pronounceable name and then had explained that since the name meant"mild" or "merciful" in one of the ancient tongues of his planet, itwould be perfectly all right if McLeod called him "Clement." Withinminutes, it had been "Clem" and "Mac."

  McLeod could see that Jackson didn't quite believe that. Galactics, ofwhatever race, were aloof, polite, reserved, and sometimesirritatingly patronizing--never buddy-buddy. McLeod couldn't help whatJackson might think; what was important was that it was true.

  What Clem wanted was very simple. Clem was--after a manner ofspeaking--a literary agent. Apparently the Galactic system of bookpublishing didn't work quite the way the Terrestrial system did; Clemtook his commission from the publisher instead of the author, but wasconsidered a representative of the author, not the publisher. McLeodhadn't quite understood how that sort of thing would work out, but helet it pass. There were a lot of things he didn't understand aboutGalactics.

  All Clem wanted was to act as McLeod's agent for the publication of"Interstellar Ark."

  "And what did you tell him?" Jackson asked.

  "I told him I'd think it over."

  Jackson leaned forward. "How much money did he offer?" he askedeagerly.

  "Not much," McLeod said. "That's why I told him I'd think it over. Hesaid that, considering the high cost of transportation, relaying,translation, and so on, he couldn't offer me more than one thousandthof one per cent royalties."

  Jackson blinked. "One _what_?"

  "One thousandth of one per cent. If the book sells a hundred thousandcopies at a credit a copy, they will send me a nice, juicy check forone lousy credit."

  Jackson scowled. "They're cheating you."

  "Clem said it was the standard rate for a first book."

  Jackson shook his head. "Just because we don't have interstellarships and are confined to our own solar system, they treat us asthough we were ignorant savages. They're cheating you high, wide, andhandsome."

  "Maybe," said McLeod. "But if they really wanted to cheat me, theycould just pirate the book. There wouldn't be a thing I could do aboutit."

  "Yeah. But to keep up their facade of high ethics, they toss us a sop.And we have to take whatever they hand out. You _will_ take it, ofcourse." It was more of an order than a question.

  "I told him I'd think it over," McLeod said.

  Jackson stood up. "Professor McLeod, the human race needs everyGalactic credit it can lay its hands on. It's your duty to accept theoffer, no matter how lousy it is. We have no choice in the matter. Anda Galactic credit is worth ten dollars American, four pounds U.K., orforty rubles Soviet. If you sell a hundred thousand copies of yourbook, you can get yourself a meal in a fairly good restaurant andEarth will have one more Galactic credit stashed away. If you don'tsell that many, you aren't out anything."

  "I suppose not," McLeod said slowly. He knew that the Government couldforce him to take the offer. Under the Planetary Security Act, theGovernment had broad powers--very broad.

  "Well, that isn't my business right now," Jackson said. "I just wantedto find out what this was all about. You'll hear from us, ProfessorMcLeod."

  "I don't doubt it," said McLeod.

  The six men filed out the door.

  * * * * *

  Alone, McLeod stared at the wall and thought.

  Earth needed every Galactic credit it could get; that was certain. Thetrouble came in getting them.

  Earth had absolutely nothing that the Galactics wanted. Well, notabsolutely, maybe, but so near as made no difference. Certainly therewas no basis for trade. As far as the Galactics were concerned, Earthwas a little backwater planet that was of no importance. Nothingmanufactured on the planet was of any use to Galactics. Nothing grownon Earth was of any commercial importance. They had sampled theanimals and plants for scientific purposes, but there was no realcommercial value in them. The Government had added a few credits toits meager collection when the animals had been taken, but the amountwas small.

  McLeod thought about the natives of New Guinea and decided that on theGalactic scale Earth was about in the same position. Except that therehad at least been gold in New Guinea. The Galactics didn't have anyinterest in Earth's minerals; the elements were much more easilyavailable in the asteroid belts that nearly every planetary systemseemed to have.

  The Galactics were by no means interested in bringing civilization tothe barbarians of Earth, either. They had no missionaries to bring newreligion, no do-gooders to "elevate the cultural level of thenatives." They had no free handouts for anyone. If Earthmen wantedanything from them, the terms were cash on the barrelhead. Earth'scredit rating in the Galactic equivalent of Dun & Bradstreet wastriple-Z-zero.

  A Galactic ship had, so to speak, stumbled over Earth fifteen yearsbefore. Like the English explorers of the Eighteenth and NineteenthCenturies, the Galactics seemed to feel that it was necessary toinstall one of their own people on a new-found planet, but they werenot in the least interested in colonization nor in taking over Earth'sgovernment. The Galactic Resident was not in any sense a RoyalGovernor, and could hardly even be called an ambassador. He and hisstaff--a small one, kept more for company than for any necessarywork--lived quietly by themselves in a house they'd built in Hawaii.Nobody knew what they did, and it didn't seem wise to ask.

  The first Galactic Resident had been shot and killed by some religiousnut. Less than twenty-four hours later, the Galactic Space Navy--ifthat was the proper term--had come to claim the body. There were norecriminations, no reprisals. They came, "more in sorrow than inanger," to get the body. They came in a spaceship that was easilyvisible to the naked eye long before it hit the atmosphere--a spherethree kilometers in diameter. The missiles with thermonuclear warheadsthat were sent up to intercept the ship were detonated long beforethey touched the ship, and neither Galactics nor Earthmen evermentioned them again. It had been the most frightening display ofpower e
ver seen on Earth, and the Galactics hadn't even threatenedanyone. They just came to get a body.

  Needless to say, there was little danger that they would ever have torepeat the performance.

  The national governments of Earth had organized themselves hurriedlyinto the Terrestrial Union. Shaky at first, it had gained stabilityand power with the years. The first thing the Union Government hadwanted to do was send an ambassador to the Galactic Government. TheGalactic Resident had politely explained that their concept ofgovernment was different from ours, that ambassadors had no place inthat concept, and, anyway, there was no capital to send