Chapter IV

The chambers were crowded as the delegates, alternates and just plain onlookers poured in for the afternoon session of the Central Worlds Conference. Two hours before the meeting was due to begin, an astute member of the press, long used to such functions, observed that there would undoubtedly be a record broken before the day was over. And it was easy to see why: all eyes were trained on the spot low in the tiers with the Ehrlan pennant floating overhead.

As yet, the central figure of all the interest had not arrived, although the rest of the Ehrlans were already in their seats and looking anxiously up the aisles towards the bank of elevators. An elevator would open from time to time, to disgorge a few late arrivals. But the man they expected was not yet among them. Below, on the chamber floor, the presiding secretary was mounting to the rostrum and arranging his papers.

“Where the devil can he be!” said Citizen Evrett to Citizen Sterm, the second ranking member of the delegation.

“God only knows! You don’t suppose something has ... happened?”

“How could it, here in the heart of the city? He only had to come one block from the hotel. You’ve been watching too many thrillers, Citizen--I hope!”

“Well, we have to do something. The session will be starting in a few minutes. If he isn’t here, someone else will have to make the presentation.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. How about you, Citizen?”

“Now, wait a minute!” said Evrett. “What’s the matter with you, Citizen? You’re the logical choice. You rank second in the group.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” admitted Sterm. “What if I should bobble things? I’d never be able to live it down. I wouldn’t even dare go home. My wife is Lund’s half-sister, you know.”

“I’d forgotten. But somebody has to do it, if he doesn’t get here. This is the only opportunity we’ll have this decade. If we have to wait another ten years, we may as well forget the matter altogether.”

“We can’t do that!” protested Sterm. “We’ve worked too long and too hard on this plan. It’s the only fair solution anyway. The other worlds will never accept anything else.”

“Some of them may not want to accept this one, when they hear all of the details. You must admit, we haven’t been too easy on some of your fellow members. They ... Here comes Arko. Maybe he found out something.”

A junior member of the delegation came panting down the aisle, shaking his head when he saw the others’ eyes on him. “Sorry, Citizens,” he said, as soon as he was within the Ehrlan area. “He left the hotel over an hour ago. No one has seen a sign of him since.”

“Well, that tears it,” said Evrett, just as the presiding secretary struck his gavel on the little wooden block, announcing the opening of the session. “Who has the copy of the plans?”

“Here,” said Sterm, digging the papers from his case.

“I’ll make the presentation myself...”

“Just a minute, Citizen!” said Arko. “Look! Here he comes now!”

They all turned and looked at the pudgy figure ambling slowly down the aisle, nodding to greetings that came from all sides. The missing man smiled and shook hands with a couple of the onlookers, before entering the area and taking his seat at the head of the delegation.

“Citizen Lund!” cried Sterm, as though speaking to a wayward child. “Where in the name of the Seven Suns have you been?”

“Why, it’s a beautiful day, Citizens,” explained Lund. “I thought I’d take a stroll in the Park. There’s quite a large Ehrlan section, you know. Makes one quite homesick to hear the singing flowers serenading the passerby. I can’t wait to get back home again.”

“If you hadn’t shown up, none of us would have had the nerve to go home!”

“Why, Citizen Sterm!” Lund seemed amused by some private joke. “Whatever made you think I wouldn’t be here? This is an important day for Ehrla, remember?”

“How could we forget?” said Evrett.

The presiding secretary fiddled with his bank of microphones for a moment, in the manner of presiding secretaries throughout history since the invention of the public address system, then turned hopelessly to the technicians. A man came forward, made a simple adjustment, then retreated. The Secretary cleared his throat, sipped at a glass of water and spoke.

“The fourth session of the Nineteenth Conference of the Central Worlds is open for business. The afternoon session will be devoted to the presentation and discussion of proposals by the membership. The Recording Secretary will call the roll of delegations.”

A short stubby man with five o’clock shadow came forward and leaned into the bank of microphones, and yelled: “Accryllia!”

Across the chamber a man stood up, holding his delegation’s microphone. “The grand and sovereign system of Accryllia, long known throughout the galaxy for the excellence of its citrus fruit, the beauty of its maidens, the virtue of its honorable young men ... the grand and sovereign state of Accryllia passes.”

“Antares!”

“Antares passes.”

“Bodancer!”

“The system of Bodancer passes.”

“Buddington!”

“Mr. Secretary, the proud system of Buddington yields to Ehrla!”

“Ehrla!”

Citizen Lund stood up, unclipped the mike from the railing, smiled around at a few more wellwishers and launched into his speech. “Mr. Secretary! Ehrla wishes to thank the proud and ancient system of Buddington for relinquishing its rightful order in these proceedings, so that Ehrla may present a plan that the citizens of Ehrla feel certain will meet with the full approval of this meeting.

“For hundreds of years, the various peoples represented here today have been rightly concerned with the problems of new star systems being developed, new races being assimilated into the federation of free and lawful worlds. These new worlds need guidance, a guidance that only long experience can provide.”

Evrett looked at Sterm, uneasily. “What is this?” he whispered. “He isn’t presenting the plan like this, I hope? He’ll alienate half the delegations.”

“I don’t know what he’s doing,” said Sterm. “I only hope he knows.”

“In the past,” continued Lund, “the various and varied members of this honored organization have provided the same guidance in wise and infinitely proper manner. It is the hope of Ehrla that they will continue to do so in the future. Therefore the ancient and honorable system of Ehrla proposes, to this effect, that the members of this organization continue as they have in the past.”

Pandemonium was breaking out in scattered sections of the chamber as various delegations realized that they were being snookered by the Ehrlans. Voices rose up here and there, trying to drown out Lund’s words. Monitors moved up and down the aisles, trying to quell the disturbances.

“Therefore,” said Lund, “Ehrla, to the implementation of its plan, announces to this organization that this day they have annexed the systems of Phelimina, Trepidar and Scolatia.”

He sat down and turned to the rest of his delegation. “Gentlemen,” he said, smiling, as he handed a sealed envelope to Sterm, “my resignation.”

Reilly slumped in his chair with a sigh. The lecture had gone well, but it had ended not a moment too soon to suit him.

“I’m growing old,” he said, unaware he was speaking out loud.

“Pardon, sir?” The regular service Sergeant-Major closed the door and brought over his cup of coffee. “Did you say something, sir?”

“What?” Reilly blinked. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Sergeant. Just an old man muttering to himself.”

“Begging the general’s pardon, sir, I don’t think you’re an old man at all. At least, no older than myself.” He cocked his head. “Although, to be perfectly honest with both of us, sir, there are times when I just can’t seem to keep up with these children they keep sending us nowadays.”

“We’re both ready for retirement, Sergeant. Old work horses, ready to be turned out to pasture. I guess this will be the last class I see through these old doors. I’ve submitted my resignation, you know.” Reilly moodily regarded his coffee.

“Yessir, I knew. The rest of the faculty knows too. And if I might be so bold as to say so, sir, we’ll all be sorry to see you go. It won’t be the same Academy without General Reilly glarin’ a bit at us all.”

“Glaring a bit, is it, Sergeant?” He glared now, then broke down into a smile. “I suppose I do at that. Do the cadets still call me Old Stoneface?”