Chapter I

The year was 2346, and Earth, at the time, was a political democracy.

The population was ruled by the Over-Council and, in order of decreasing importance, by Councils, and Local Councils. Each was composed of representatives duly apportioned by popular vote between the two contending parties. Executive direction was provided by a variety of Secretaries, selected by vote of the appropriate Councils. An independent Judiciary upheld the laws.

A unified Earth sent colonists to the stars. Back came strange tales and improbable animals.

Back, too, came word of a burgeoning technological civilization on the planet Itra, peopled by entirely humanoid aliens.

Earth felt it would be wise for Itra to join in a Galactic Federation and accordingly, submitted the terms of such a mutually advantageous agreement.

The Itraians declined...

Space Captain Merle S. Shaeffer, the youngest and perhaps the most naive pilot for Trans-Universe Transport, was called unexpectedly to the New York office of the company.

When Capt. Shaeffer entered the luxurious eightieth story suite, Old Tom Twilmaker, the President of TUT, greeted him. With an arm around his shoulder, Old Tom led Capt. Shaeffer to an immense inner office and introduced him to a General Reuter, identified as the Chairman of the Interscience Committee of the Over-Council.

No one else was present. With the door closed, they were isolated in Olympian splendor above and beyond the affairs of men. Here judgments were final and impartial. Capt. Shaeffer, in the presence of two of the men highest in the ruling councils of Earth, was reduced to incoherent awe.

General Reuter moved about restlessly. Old Tom was serene and beatific.

When they were seated, Old Tom swiveled around and gazed long in silence across the spires of the City. Capt. Shaeffer waited respectfully. General Reuter fidgetted.

“Some day,” Old Tom said at last, “I’m going to take my leave of this. Yes, gentle Jesus! Oh, when I think of all the souls still refusing to admit our precious Savior, what bitterness, oh, what sorrow is my wealth to me! Look down upon the teeming millions below us. How many know not the Lord? Yes, some morning, I will forsake all this and go out into the streets to spend my last days bringing the words of hope to the weary and oppressed. Are you a Christian, Merle?”

General Reuter cracked his knuckles nervously while Capt. Shaeffer muttered an embarrassed affirmative.

“I am a deeply religious man,” Old Tom continued. “I guess you’ve heard that, Merle?”

“Yes sir,” Capt. Shaeffer said.

“But did you know that the Lord has summoned you here today?” Old Tom asked.

“No, sir,” Capt. Shaeffer said.

“General Reuter, here, is a dear friend. We’ve known each other, oh, many years. Distantly related through our dear wives, in fact. And we serve on the same Board of Directors and the same Charity Committees ... A few weeks ago, when he asked me for a man, I called for your file, Merle. I made discreet inquiries. Then I got down on my knees and talked it over with God for, oh, it must have been all of an hour. I asked, ‘Is this the man?’ And I was given a sign. Yes! At that moment, a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds!”

General Reuter had continued his nervous movements throughout the speech. For the first time, he spoke. “Good God, Tom, serve us a drink.” He turned to Capt. Shaeffer. “A little drink now and then helps a man relax. I’ll just have mine straight, Tom.”

Old Tom studied Capt. Shaeffer. “I do not feel the gentle Master approves of liquor.”

“Don’t try to influence him,” General Reuter said. “You’re embarrassing the boy.”

“I--” Capt. Shaeffer began.

“Give him the drink. If he doesn’t want to drink it, he won’t have to drink it.”

Sighing, Old Tom poured two bourbons from the bar in back of his desk and passed them over. Martyrdom sat heavily upon his brow.

After a quick twist of the wrist and an expert toss of the head, General Reuter returned an empty glass. “Don’t mind if I do have another,” he said. He was already less restless.

“How’s your ability to pick up languages?” General Reuter asked.

“I learned Spanish and Russian at TUT PS,” Capt. Shaeffer said apologetically. “I’m supposed to have a real high aptitude in languages, according to some tests I took. In case we should meet intelligent aliens, TUT gives them.”

“You got no association with crackpot organizations, anything like that?” General Reuter asked. “You’re either a good Liberal-Conservative or Radical-Progressive, aren’t you? I don’t care which. I don’t believe in prying into a man’s politics.”

“I never belonged to anything,” Capt. Shaeffer said.

“Oh, I can assure you, that’s been checked out very, very thoroughly,” Old Tom said.

The General signaled for another drink. With a sigh of exasperation, Old Tom complied.

“Bob,” Old Tom said, “I really think you’ve had enough. Please, now. Our Master counsels moderation.”