Mr. President, Page 2

were involved, and it wasthe duty of every citizen to give his life for his planet if required.

  With an impatient motion, he rolled his thumbprint in the soft plasticsignature space, and held it for a second as it hardened. Then hethrew the order into a basket labeled OUTGOING CORRESPONDENCE.

  His first official duty completed, he should have felt exhilarated;but instead, nagging thoughts of guilt tugged at his brain.

  Who were the inhabitants of Altair D, anyway? How did he know that thepolice action was just? Shouldn't he get out the whole file and goover it?

  But that would take days ... and there was the matter of the Gnii,whoever they were.

  The three managers entered. President Wong stood up and shook handswith them. They didn't waste time on other preliminaries, but rushedstraight into business.

  "The Gnii," the Manager of Trade, a large, red-faced man said, "demandthat we remove our trading planetoid from their system. They allegethat the planetoid is a security risk, in that it could be used forremote-control bombing of any of their planets. They threaten that ifwe don't remove it voluntarily, they will attack it, and theirAmbassadors are here in person to take our reply to their ultimatum."

  There was nothing unusual in that, President Wong knew. Since bothspaceships and any other known means of communication traveled at thespeed of light, it was now more common to send Ambassadors onimportant missions than to send messages.

  "What do you think we should do?" President Wong asked the Manager ofTrade.

  * * * * *

  "I think we should tell them to go to hell," the Manager of Tradereplied, his heavy face turning redder. "After all, we have a milliontrading planetoids out in the Galaxy--if we retreat here, we set adangerous precedent."

  "I see," Wong said, frowning. "I don't recall any alien tradingplanetoids in _our_ system."

  "Of course not, Mr. President," said the Manager Of Foreign Affairs, atall, lean, distinguished-looking gentleman with blue eyes andiron-gray hair. "We don't permit them, for much the same reason thatthe Gnii want them removed from their system. Trading planetoids areusually only tolerated in backward systems. Apparently the Gnii nolonger desire to be considered backward. I, for one, think that wewould be making a mistake not to accede to their request."

  "Oh, that's very fine, decent, sporting and all that," the Manager ofTrade said irritatedly. "But I have to worry about feeding thisoverpopulated system of ours, which would starve if it weren't forintersystem trade--a significant part of which is carried on throughthe planetoids."

  "Can we protect the threatened planetoid?" President Wong asked theManager of Defense, a short, slim black man with flaming red hair.

  The Manager of Defense considered his reply carefully. "Not if theyare willing to pay a terrific price to destroy it," he said finally."After all, it's thirty-three years away. While we can send out afleet immediately that would get there at the same time as theAmbassadors, and before they could mount an attack, we hardly couldsend reinforcements and replacements once the battle is joined. Butfrom the best information available, I think that a small force oftwenty or twenty-five thousand troops should be able to frighten theGnii out of doing anything foolish. They aren't very far advanced."

  "Thirty-three years," President Wong said frowning. "That means amixed crew with facilities for children. I am told that things oftengo wrong on that type of mission."

  The Manager of Defense nodded. "They do," he agreed shortly. "However,I have analyzed that problem in detail in my report."

  President Wong sighed. "If you gentlemen will leave your reports withme, I will make my decision by tomorrow morning."

  Each of the Managers gave him several rolls of tape. Those of theManager of Trade felt by far the heaviest. President Wong slipped theminto the racks in his upper left-hand desk drawer.

  "Ask the Gnii to come in," he said to Al.

  * * * * *

  Al pushed a button on the arm of his chair, and the door swung open.Four large spidery creatures entered the room, followed by a smallbald man. Their round bodies were encased in plastic globes, in whicha whitish translucent gas swirled. They walked over to the President'sdesk, and the leader extended a hairy leg.

  With an effort, President Wong forced himself to take the leg with hishand and pump it up and down. He noticed that the creature withdrewthe leg as soon as it was decently possible, and smiled a bit as heconcluded that their aversion was mutual.

  The Gnii stepped back and began waving his two front legs.

  "He is asking for your reply to his ultimatum," the small bald maninterpreted.

  "Tell him I'll give him a definite decision tomorrow," President Wongsaid. "Apologize for my not being able to reply today, and point outthat since it will take him thirty-three years to get home, one daywill not make much difference."

  The bald interpreter waved his hands. The four Gnii went into a smallhuddle, waving their spidery legs at each other. Then the leaderturned to the interpreter again and "spoke."

  "They say that they agree," the interpreter said. "But they want toemphasize that it is not because they fear the power of the SolarSystem."

  The Gnii leader hesitated a moment, then extended his leg again.President Wong pumped it once. The Gnii dropped his hand and turnedand left the room, with the three others and the interpreter filingafter him.

  "If you don't need me any more," the Manager of Trade said, glancingat his watch, "I'll go back to the Trade Bureau. I have a meeting witha number of the department heads."

  President Wong nodded tiredly. "I have the tapes. I'll study all yourpositions tonight."

  * * * * *

  The Manager of Trade and the Manager of Foreign Affairs rose and leftthe room. The Manager of Defense stayed in his seat.

  "If you feel up to it," Al said, "the Manager of Defense wouldappreciate it if you would present a Presidential citation to theremains of the Third Company. They were involved in a police action inthe system of Veganea, and their morale is shattered. As you know, theaward is traditional, as is the speech. Here's the text--all you needdo is read it."

  "All right," President Wong said, taking the paper from Al's hand andscanning it. There was only one paragraph.

  The door opened and four old men entered, followed by an honor guardof eight husky privates. They approached the desk and stood atattention. President Wong looked up from the speech and felt a wave ofsudden nausea. For a second, he was afraid that he actually was goingto be sick. None of their old lined faces was complete. The worstwounded had less than half a face, and that discolored by purpleblotches of radiation scar-tissue. He was blind, and the othersmaneuvered him into position before the desk.

  "For the heroic parts which you played in the Police Action againstVeganea--" Wong stumbled over the name, then continued hastily--"I,the President of the Solar Union, hereby...."

  "Rot," said the blind one, through toothless gums in a voice that wasonly a hoarse whisper. "Tell me, do you know where Veganea is? Doesanyone on Earth know where Veganea is, or care? How many men, Mr.President, how many men, young and healthy, left for that policeaction? Do you know?" His hoarse voice rose. "Four came back ... butcan any of you gentlemen tell me _how many left_?"

  "That's enough," the Manager of Defense said. At his signal, two ofthe honor guards gently took hold of the veteran's arms and walked himout of the room along with the others.

  "I order that he not be punished," Wong said sharply.

  "He won't be," the Manager of Defense said. "Do you take me for abarbarian? I had hoped, though, that your interest might change theirattitude. As you can imagine, it's raising hell with the morale of therecruits."

  "By the way," the President asked, "where is Veganea, and how many men_did_ we send there?"

  "It's about twenty-four years away, near Vega. The action startedbefore my time and I don't know how many men were involved--probablynot more than a few million. The Police Action ende
d successfully, butour ships were in the first wave and were wiped out."

  * * * * *

  The President sat down wearily. His hand strayed over to the order hehad signed that morning for a police action, then drifted aimlesslyaway.

  "What's next?" he asked Al. He slipped a few energy pills into hismouth as Al consulted his book.

  "There's the matter of the conversion bomb," Al said. "The Manager ofScientific Research and the Manager of Defense would like you to makea decision about it."

  "The conversion bomb?" President Wong said, puzzled.