“Now here is a coordinate computer,” he said, laying it down before Angus. “You feed in the exact firing time on these keys here. It must be the actual moment you will press your firing switch. Then you feed it whether it is just 'cast' or 'cast and recall' or 'exchange' on these buttons here. And then you simply punch in the universe and the eight basic coordinates of time zero on the table on these keys here. Quite simple. You may have this one as a new-accounts gift. I have several. Now let's see. I imagine we can begin firing by twenty-two hundred, sidereal, base universe.” He looked at his watch. “That is in eight minutes. A cast requires about two minutes. We have thirty casts to do. We will call in the basic civilized nations and omit Psychlo which makes twenty– nine, but we will add Lord Voraz-good gracious, I hope he is not in bed. That will take an hour. Then we will wait three hours and do a ‘cast and recall.' That will take six minutes each– we will make it easy on them so they won't arrive upset and cross– which is three hours. So in about seven hours, plus a little organizing time, you should be able to get them here.”
He was quite out of breath. He grabbed a stack of cards that sat on the red stack of cardboard and shoved them at Sir Robert. “Just sign each one at the bottom and I’ll fill in the rest. Let me have them as fast as you sign.”
Sir Robert looked at the form. It was all in Psychlo:
URGENT
You are courteously requested to send an authorized
minister with powers plenipotentiary in all matters
relating to political and military relationships
with other races and with powers to negotiate and
arrange final and binding treaties. His person is
guaranteed and any effort to hold him as a hostage
shall result in his immediate revocation of all
agreements and his instant suicide.
Appear _______ hours at place of arrival.
TO: __________________________________
CONFERENCE PLACE: _______________________________
DURATION OF CONFERENCE AT MINISTERIAL DISCRETION.
PLANET NAME: __________________________________
ATMOSPHERE OF PLANET: ____________________________
MEAN TEMPERATURES: ___ SUN TYPE: ____
GRAVITY OF PLANET: _____________________________
METABOLlSM OF RACE: _______________
FOOD SUPPLIES: Available for your race _____________________
Not available _______________________________
Return of emissary guaranteed, safe and in good condition,
with copies of all relevant proceedings.
Recommended _______________________________
(initial and seal)
Authorized representative for the legal government of
this planet.
_________________________________________(signed)
All relevant diplomatic costs will be borne by this
planet.
_________________________________________(signed)
Sir Robert studied it a bit too long for the small gray man. “Sign it, sign it,” he said. “Twice. On the last two lines. I will initial and seal it and fill the rest in.”
The small gray man was popping together slabs of cardboard. He would hit them on two diagonal corners and they became a fairly large red box. An unignited smoke pot and flare were on the top of each box and a small gong which would keep sounding.
In a tearing hurry, the small gray man took the first card Sir Robert signed, filled it in with a flurry of entries, initialed it, banged a seal on it, and popped it into the box. "Hockner!" he said to Angus and trotted over to the center of the firing platform, dropped the box, and came back quickly and started to work on the next box.
Jonnie looked at his watch, took the coordinates and marks Angus had drawn out of the computer with a tape, punched them in. “Time!” He punched the firing button.
The first box shimmered an instant and vanished.
"Tolnep!" said the small gray man. “Front steps of their House of Plunder.”
Angus rattled the computer. Jonnie set the console. The small gray man raced over and put the second box on the platform. The moment he was off, Jonnie punched the firing button. That red box vanished.
Two Buddhist communicators saw the drill and relieved the small gray man putting the boxes out on the platform. The small gray man was getting quite out of breath. The boy, Quong, noticed the cards were the same except for the addresses and helped him fill those in so he just had to initial and seal them and pop them in a box. The small gray man caught up and everything was ready to fire forty minutes before the last one would go.
Panting a bit, the small gray man stood aside and let them get on with it.
Sir Robert said to him, “Are you going to conduct this conference too?”
The small gray man shook his head. “Oh dear, no. I’m just helping out. When they get here, it is all up to you!”
Jonnie and Sir Robert exchanged a look. They had better think of something fast! Six and a half hours from now authorized ministers of twenty-nine races, which apparently made up about five thousand separate planets, would be here!
The small gray man said something into his lapel.
A guard outside intercommed in, “The lights on his ship just changed. The blue one is flashing faster and now they have a big flashing red one going.”
A communicator said to Sir Robert, “The radio message that keeps going out just changed. It is saying 'Local truce area. Security and safety of your own representatives would be endangered by gunfire, motors, or attack. Keep five hundred miles clear of zone.”'
Sir Robert said, “Can't you just call a general truce for the planet?”
“Oh, my no. I couldn't do that. It would be a protest producer– an usurpation of the powers of the state. I am sorry. Your people in other places will just have to hold out.”
Sir Robert went to ops to put messages on the command channel to tell them what was going on. They were encouraged. They reported there was no diminution of the attack's ferocity. They were holding out, but just barely. For some foolish reason the enemy, per pilot reports, had set ancient ruined London on fire.
Angus had tapes punched now for the bulk of the firings. But the small gray man said he could do the rest for him and then do those necessary for the “fire and recall” after the three-hour wait.
A Chinese engineer and Chief Chong-won had been hanging back but were trying to attract Jonnie's attention.
He saw them and turned the console over to Angus.
“Forgive us,” said Chief Chong-won. “But it is the dam. The water level is dropping and you can now see the tops of the generator intake ports. My engineer here, Fu-ching, says that you won't have any electricity in another four hours.”
And they had another six and a half to go!
Chapter 3
Jonnie sent for Thor and some maps, including a copy of the old Psychlo defense map.
While he waited, he watched the small gray man working the computer beside the console. His fingers were flying. The handling of that computer compared to the skill of a very experienced pilot on a console. Then he realized the small gray man wasn't even looking at the computer keys. His fingers seemed to move in rapid blurs all by themselves. Jonnie thought that there was more to this small gray man than had surfaced so far. Not just his name and identity, for they didn't know those yet either. But he had some much greater reason to help than he had let on. It was not that Jonnie distrusted him. It was just a feeling Jonnie had that even back of any information the small gray man gave them, there would be much deeper reasons for his presence. He decided that whatever the small gray man might tell them later, he, Jonnie, was going to really get the reasons which underlay all of this. Just a feeling. No, a certainty.