There was some discussion as to whether the emissaries representing these forces should vote or abstain.
“I suppose,” whispered Voraz, “you can designate a deposit place for the prisoners in the absence of other authority.”
“Yes,” Jonnie whispered back, “but they don't say what we do with any prisoners we may have of theirs.”
“This isn't a peace treaty,” whispered Lord Voraz. “This relates to offenses against this conference. I...uh...put in a word about Earth prisoners. They're planetary assets, you see. Prisoners you have from the fleet up there would only be mentioned if this were a peace treaty. And I doubt they'd take them back due to possible contamination– you might want to get even through biological warfare. You're covered since they included 'unharmed' and 'undamaged' in the clause.”
Assets, thought Jonnie. You're just concerned about the value of the property you're trying to repossess. But he didn't say it. He was glad they'd get any Earth prisoners back.
They had finally decided the emissaries of other combatants had better vote for it would look better on the record. The conference was then unanimous.
“By conference law,” Fowljopan then said, “mention must be made of personal violence used against a then-emissary, Lord Schleim."
Lord Voraz touched Jonnie's knee. “This is you.”
“One designated as Jonnie Goodboy Tyler was seen to throw a cane or scepter at the said Lord Schleim, striking him. It is the wish of this conference to exonerate the said Tyler. Do you so vote?”
They voted to do so and Schleim really spat.
“Now comes the nice part,” whispered Lord Voraz.
"In accordance,” said Fowljopan, “with Clause 103, which covers services in protecting and saving the lives of conference members, for predetermining the intentions of the said Schleim and for disarming him so that his attack was to no avail, one designated as Jonnie Goodboy Tyler is hereby vested with the Order of the Crimson Sash. Is this the wish of the conference?”
There was a spatter of applause, a buzz of comment.
Lord Voraz whispered, “The Empress Beaz of the Chatovarians created that order eighty-three thousand, two hundred sixty-eight years ago when an attendant saved the life of her lover at a conference. Someone tried to assassinate him and the attendant prevented it but got a superficial knife slash in the process. Hence 'Crimson Sash.' " He whisked from his pocket a little book which expanded and he looked up something. “It entitles you to be addressed as 'Lord' and it carries with it a pension of two thousand credits a year. We manage the trust fund for it. I must make a note.”
They were still applauding a bit and Lord Browl indicated Jonnie should stand up and bow. Jonnie thought sourly he'd put the sash on Windsplitter. He didn't want their honors. He sat down. They sure were taking a long time to get around to reparations. Ah, here they were!
Fowljopan was unreeling a long roll of paper with figures on it. “It has also been found that the dignities of the emissaries and their planets have been offended by the unseemly attack or attempted attack upon them by the said Schleim. A fine and reparation in the sum of one trillion Galactic credits is hereby levied upon the planet Tolnep by the conference.”
Fowljopan rattled through the papers. “The emissaries who had ships in the skies at the time of this incident are not to be included as recipients in this indemnity because of a witting or unwitting taint of conspiracy. The sum, as already discussed in previous deliberations, shall be allocated to emissaries in accordance with populations they represent.” He rattled off a lot of figures. “Does the conference so agree?”
They corrected a couple of calculations.
“Earth,” Jonnie whispered to Lord Voraz, “is getting almost nothing!”
“Some of these emissaries have populations of hundreds of billions,” Lord Voraz whispered back. “The Chatovarians have almost thirty-nine trillion beings on their seven hundred planets. What have you got here? Thirty-three thousand?”
The emissaries accepted the amended figures. Jonnie held his breath. Were damages to Earth going to enter in here?
“Any and all financial arrangements to be made in accordance with the practices of the Galactic Bank,” said Fowljopan. He didn't ask for any agreement on that. Lord Voraz simply nodded.
“This concludes our findings,” said Fowljopan. “Is it the wish of this conference that these be scrolled in finished form, as voted, so that they can be signed and attested?”
Jonnie whispered urgently to Lord Voraz, “Wait. They claimed they burned a lot of cities. There are all sorts of war damages.”
“I tried to get it in; it would have increased the value of the property,” Lord Voraz whispered back, “but this isn't a peace conference, you know. It 's a trial and treaty about offenses to the conference itself.”
No reparations for Earth? Jonnie felt like jumping up and protesting. If Sir Robert or MacAdam had been here-
“A trillion credits fine,” whispered Lord Voraz, “is stiff. It will crash the whole Tolnep economy. Even if Earth were awarded city damages, Tolnep could never pay them after that huge fine. Be happy about it. You got rid of all the hostile forces.”
And got rid of all challenges to a clear title, thought Jonnie sourly. Now they were wide open to the bank foreclosure with no real money to meet it.
But Fowljopan was coming down on Jonnie. “Your emissary was not here! This is highly irregular. It does not void or change these findings. But if he is not here to sign them, they will not be valid. Your war will go right on. So you better advise your government to get him here quick. These papers will be ready for signature tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to see he is here?”
"I’m not a representative-” began Jonnie.
“You have influence,” said Fowljopan. “Use it! We want to finish up here and go home.”
“You better do as he says,” whispered Lord Voraz.
Jonnie looked up to see Dries Gloton standing at the door. He'd come back!
As Jonnie walked out, Dries asked Lord Voraz, “Is the Earth representative coming?”
Voraz pointed to Jonnie.
“Will you get him here?” Dries Gloton asked Jonnie.
Jonnie said he'd try, and Dries and
Lord Voraz looked at each other and grinned.
He was too disheartened about no reparations for Earth to give much thought to them.
Chapter 3
A few feet from the door of the conference room, Jonnie started to get mad.
War! Any one of those lords in there, or their governments, merely had to say the word and their fleets pranced off to bash somebody's head in!
And when they'd bashed it in, they could just sail off tra-la, without a thought of what they'd done to people's homes and lives, and then maybe come back another day to bash some more!
Jonnie took a walk around the causeway of the bowl. It was a sunny noontime and the mine entrance and exhaust fans made a gentle breeze as they changed the air.
The little children lay in the rifle pits, shaded with bits and pieces of cloth.
They followed him with their eyes. The dogs whuffed and snuffled at him from the ends of their leashes and, somehow recognizing him as a friend, wagged their tails. The older children, having fed the younger ones, were sitting cross-legged and eating from bowls: they grinned and nodded as he went by.