Chinko instruction discs were coming in handy now! At first when he entered he had felt stiff and unnatural, artificial and affected, but suddenly it felt as though he had been doing this sort of thing all his life.)
“No one,” he continued, “could possibly expect such noble and such highly titled and credentialed lords to experience an uncomfortable trip, nor to convene upon such a lowly and undeserving planet, for the petty purpose of adjudicating the minor differences of some back planet squabble.”
The delegates sat up. This was more like it. This is what they had been thinking all the time. Hear, hear!
Sir Robert was thunderstruck. What was this lad up to? The war not important? Their strong points caving in, their friends dying, and he could say it wasn't important? He looked at the two small gray men. They were both sitting there smiling, a bit vacant but smiling. They hadn't been smiling before and Sir Robert knew for a fact that Jonnie hadn't talked with them, so they knew no more than he. But he had to restrain himself from jumping up to cry out that this was an important war. One point: these emissaries in their jewels and flashing clothes, strange faces and feelers, were all bobbing their heads and settling down for a real conference.
“No,” continued Jonnie. “It would be an insult to the mighty states you represent to call you here on something as trivial as repelling pirates!”
Lord Schleim started to slither up out of his chair. He was about to shout this devil down and force him to mend his language when he saw those eyes looking again at his boots. But it wasn't really the glance at the boots that stopped Lord Schleim. He recognized with diplomatic shrewdness that this devil could fall into a trap of his own digging. It was a very simple matter to prove that the attacking Tolnep ships were fully commissioned, legal ships and officers of the Tolnep navy. So let the devil plow on for now. He'd fang him shortly. Hah, the fellow was no real opponent after all!
“Such regal representatives of kings and governments,” continued Jonnie, “should– and if I am wrong, please correct me– convene on real points of treaties and Intergalactic law. And on these their expertise cannot be seriously challenged or questioned.”
Hear, hear. True. Naturally. You have a point. Pray continue! The emissaries, all except for the combatants, were sitting up, interested. And all combatant representatives began to look uneasy. All except Lord Schleim who was beginning to feel confident– this devil was going to dig a hole for himself. There was one trouble here for Lord Schleim: each time that devil moved it made lights flash off his buttons, and Tolneps had to wear filters to convert to ordinary visible spectrum, so every flash of a button overwhelmed the power of the filter and he was getting a headache. He wished he could make them turn off that spotlight they had on this creature.
Jonnie was sweeping on. “The definition of the category of 'pirate' as opposed to the definition of 'military force' is a critical question. I am sure that, from time to time, even in the best-organized, paid, and regulated military forces, elements of navies or even merchant ships have mutinied or gone astray or been misled and have turned pirate, defying the benign and responsible authority of their own governments.”
Oh, yes. Many instances. Just last month in these troubled times, a squadron of spaceships had mutinied at Oxentab. Lots of them in history. An old point, the emissaries agreed. Lot of stories written about it. Go on.
“So,” continued Jonnie, “to protect legitimate authority such as that which you represent,” (pleased faces except for the combatants), “and to really be able to cope with piracy when it occurs, the definition must be clarified. And this can only be done by an august body such as yours in the form of a formal treaty.”
Good idea. Correct. Right. Very glum combatants, except Schleim who was certain now this devil would shortly be sent down in flames.
Jonnie opened the Psychlo dictionary to a marked place. "We know that the Psychlo language is a composite of many tongues, even your own individual languages, and was not in fact a language generated solely by the Psychlos. It is a universal tongue because it was taken from many universes, which is the only reason we so generally speak it.”
That was true. Real scholarship. The Psychlos picked up everything from others including language. Shouldn't even be called "Psychlo." The emissaries buzzed about it.
“This dictionary,” said Jonnie, “is the standard recognized work, is it not?” He held it up. Yes, they nodded. Jonnie laid the book down and read from it. “It states: 'Pirate: one who preys upon commerce or communities or planets in a vessel or spaceship or group of ships not under the regulation of a national or planetary government; also any commander or crew member of such a ship.”'
Right, right. That was a pirate. But
Lord Schleim was feeling very smug. He felt he really had this devil now. He could see exactly which way he was trying to go. It would be child's play to fang these arguments to pieces and then proceed with the surrender talks. What a letdown the devil was going to get. Every Tolnep ship was under the direct orders of the Tolnep government. Totally legal.
Jonnie had turned to the book on Intergalactic law. “However, according to treaties, of which Intergalactic law is composed, we have a different definition. With your permission I will read it: 'Article 234,352,678. Based on the treaties of Psychlo vs. Hawvin signed at Blonk, Psychlo vs. Camchod signed at Psychlo, a pirate shall hereinafter be defined as one who feloniously steals or mines minerals. Jonnie tapped the book and laughed lightly. “I guess we know who and how and why that misdefinition occurred!”
They laughed. Psychlo was not very well liked, and a Psychlo would pass anything to protect Psychlo interests.
“Therefore,” said Jonnie, “this august body, I feel, should define 'pirate' and 'piracy' among systems and planets and, after due deliberation, envisage the execution of treaties to forbid it!”
Sir Robert groaned. The lad was proposing days of wrangling over stale things like treaties when the planet was being torn to bits with a flat-out assault, undoubtedly egged on by this Tolnep through his hidden radio. But his groans were drowned in the general assent.
Jonnie had now drawn back from the books. He took up the wand. He tapped it in his palm. “I feel in my humble opinion,” (he certainly didn't look humble), “that we must work upon this now in order that we should know whether the Tolnep fleet officers and crewmen are to be slowly vaporized individually as pirates or simply shot as military men when court-martialed.”
Lord Schleim slithered up with a scream. “Stop!” He glared around at the other combatants. They sat just behind him. They were saying nothing. They simply looked stunned. Then he realized that the devil had said "Tolnep"; he had not said “combined forces.” Venom splattered as Lord
Schleim hissed his protest. The devil had gone too far! In a moment Lord Schleim would tear down his house, but just now there was another point.
“You are selecting out the honorable Tolnep forces for your venomous insinuations!” said Schleim ravingly. “This is a clear case of prejudice and has to be dismissed as such by this body! There are other combatants. I demand these statements to be stricken from our recorders as biased, slanted, and an intentional insult to the Tolnep planetary forces.”