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in such a way that his eyes seemed to meet those of whoever looked up at him
from below. The eyes were gentle, and the lean, middle-aged face was a little
tired and careworn, with its high brow and the sharp lines drawn around the
corners of the thin mouth. Altogether, it most nearly resembled the face of a
man who is impatient with the time it is taking to pose for his sculptor.
"Moral! Moral!" cried a voice; and they all turned to see a being with white
and woolly fur that gave him a rather polar-bear look, trotting across the
pol-
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ished floor toward them. He approached in upright fashion, and was as
four-limbed as Moral and the humans themselves, for that matter.
"You are Moral, aren't you?" demanded the new-
comer, as he came up to them. His English was impeccable. He bowed to the
humans or at least he inclined the top half of his body toward them. Mike, a
little uncertainly, nodded back. "I'm Arrjhanik."
"Oh, yes . . . yes," said Moral. "The Greeter. These are the humans, Mike
Wellsbauer and Peony Matsu.
May I ... how do you put it ... present Arrjhanik a
Bin. He is a Siniloid, one of the Confederation's older races."
"So honored," said Arrjhanik.
"We're both very pleased to meet you," said Mike, THE CATCH'
249
feeling on firmer ground. There were rules for this kind of alien contact.
"Would you . . . could you come right now?"
Arrjhanik appealed to the humans. "I'm sorry to pre-
vent you from seeing the rest of the museum at this time" Mike frowned; and
his eyes narrowed a little
"but a rather unhappy situation has come up. One of our Confederate heads the
leader of one of the races that make up our Confederation is dying. And he
would like to see you before . . . you understand."
"Of course," said Mike.
"If we had known in advance But it comes rather suddenly on the Adrii "
Arrjhanik led them off to-
ward the entrance of the building and they stepped out into sunlight again. He
led them back to the transporter from which they had just emerged.
"Wait a minute," said Mike, stopping. "We aren't going back to Tolfi, are we?"
"Oh, no. No," put in Moral from close behind him.
"We're going to the Chamber of Deputies." He gave
Mike a gentle push; and a moment later they had stepped through into a small
and pleasant room half-
filled with a dozen or so beings each so different one from the other that
Mike had no chance to sort them out and recognize individual characteristics.
Arrjhanik led them directly to the one piece of furni-
ture in the room which appeared to be a sort of small table incredibly
supported by a single wire-thin leg at one of the four corners. On the surface
of this lay a creature or being not much bigger than a seven-year-
old human child and vaguely catlike in form. It lay on its side, its head
supported a little above the table's surface by a cube of something
transparent but apparently not particularly soft, and large color-
less eyes in its head focused on Mike and Penny as they approached.
Mike looked down at the small body. It showed no
250 Gordon R. Dickson signs of age, unless the yellowish-white of the thin
hair covering its body was a revealing shade. Cer-
tainly the hair itself seemed brittle and sparse.
The Adri or whatever the proper singular was
stirred its head upon its transparent pillow and its pale eyes focused on Mike
and Penny. A faint, drawn out rattle of noise came from it.
"He says," said Arrjhanik, at Mike's elbow, " "You cannot refuse. It is not in
you.' "
"Refuse what?" demanded Mike, sharply. But the head of the Adri lolled back
suddenly on its pillow and the eyes filmed and glazed. There was a little
murmur that could have been something reverential from all the beings standing
about; and without fur-
ther explanation the body of the being that had just died thinned suddenly to
a ghostly image of itself, and was gone.
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"It was the Confederation," said Arrjhanik, "that he knew you could not
refuse."
"Now wait a minute," said Mike. He swung about so that he faced them all, his
stocky legs truculently apart. "Now, listen you people are acting under a
misapprehension. / can't accept or refuse anything. I
haven't the authority. I'm just an explorer, nothing more.
"No, no," said Arrjhanik, "there's no need for you to say that you accept or
not, and speak for your whole race. That is a formality. Besides, we know you
will not refuse, you humans. How could you?"
"You might be surprised," said Mike. Penny hast-
ily jogged his elbow.
"Temper!" she whispered. Mike swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice
sounded more rea-
sonable.
"You'll have to bear with me," he said. "As I say, I'm an explorer, not a
diplomat. Now, what did you all want to see me about?"
"We wanted to see you only for our own pleasure,"
THE CATCH 251
said Arrjhanik. "Was that wrong of us? Oh, and yes to tell you that if there
is anything you want, anything the Confederation can supply you, of course you
need only give the necessary orders "
"It is so good to have you here," said one of the other beings.
A chorus of voices broke out in English all at once, and the aliens crowded
around. One large, rather walruslike alien offered to shake hands with Mike,
and actually did so in a clumsy manner.
"Now, wait. Wait!" roared Mike. The room fell silent. The assembled aliens
waited, looking at him in an inquiring manner.
"Now, listen to me!" snapped Mike. "And answer one simple question. What is
all this you're trying to give to us humans?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]