by James White
“My warmest compliments to everyone here who has been involved in successfully concluding this epoch-making agreement between three different intelligent species,” it said. “Not only has there been it a first contact between the Federation and the Trolanni, but a second contact with ourselves and the Crextic, and another possible future contact with the druul—”
It looked along the line of joined litters which served as a conference table and raised a hand to quell an outburst from Keet and Jasam, then went on. “. I know that you have already discussed this matter with my subordinate officers and members of the medical team, but I am required to restate our position officially. Federation law forbids us to exterminate any intelligent species, regardless of the past and present evidence of their concerted violence and antisocial behavior towards others. Instead, a rigorous and lengthy psychological and sociological assessment will be conducted regarding the possibility of their reeducation. Should the findings go against them and, as our Trolanni friends have insisted, they turn out to be nothing but intelligent and amoral animals, they will not be exterminated. Instead their world will be placed under Federation Interdict until they either become civilized, which seems improbable, or they exterminate themselves.
“The Trolanni currently living among them,” it went one, “will be evacuated and transferred, at the invitation of the Crextic, to this planet to share a part of it with them, and to cooperate in the future to the benefit of both species.
“Such an event as this has no precedent in the history of the Federation,” Dermod continued, glancing up at the hovering Prilicla, “and we were worried in case it did not succeed and we had the druul-Trolanni conflict repeat itself here. But my em-pathic advisor assures me that the Crextic and Trolanni feelings, based as they are on mutual help and future scientific and commercial advantages, are honest and will be more long-lasting than any agreement based on empty diplomacies. As a precaution we will observe the situation from orbit. If the cultural contact fails, we will move the Trolanni to another planet which has no sapient life-forms to oppose their resettlement, but I do not foresee that happening because this is a contact that the Crextic and the Trolanni both want and need. At no time will we interfere in disputes which you are plainly capable of solving yourselves, nor will we give unwanted technical help, because psychologically that would be bad for both species. In time, perhaps not too long a time as progressing cultures go, I can foresee the Trolanni and the Crextic being welcomed into the Galactic Federation.
“But our more immediate plan,” it went on briskly, “is to take Jasam and its searchsuit back to Trolann to explain the situation to its people, advise them regarding the evacuation, and begin instructing our scientists regarding the organic-cybernetic interface and the lifesuit technology they use for self-defense. This will have important applications far beyond their use as fully-sensitive limbs for amputees. Meanwhile Keet has elected to remain here with Irisik to prepare everyone concerned for the arrival of the first Trolanni evacuees. The medical station will be left here for their use as will the remains of Terragar. Both will be a constant reminder of the future that lies ahead for both species.
“Rhabwar,” it added, looking at Prilicla and then Captain Fletcher, “will return to Sector General when convenient.”
“Thank you, friend Dermod,” said Prilicla.
“Doctor!” the captain said, its face deepening in color and its emotional radiation reflecting shock and embarrassment. “You don’t talk that way to a, to a sector marshal!” To its superior officer, it went on quickly, “Please excuse Dr. Prilicla, sir, it sometimes takes friendly informality to excess. And yes, sir, we can leave within the hour.”
“A degree of informality is acceptable,” said the sector marshal, its eyes turning towards Prilicla, “especially from someone who has achieved so much here. I feel no insult at your mode of address, little friend, and your empathic faculty is already telling you that, among other things…”
There was an unusual feeling of warmth and expectancy emanating from the sector marshal that was characteristic of a pleasure soon to be shared. It showed its teeth in the grimace Earth-humans called a smile.
“… Besides,” it went on, “just before leaving for this meeting I received a signal from Administrator Braithwaite at the hospital to say that you have been appointed, or, more precisely, you have been elected unanimously to the rank of Diagnostician. My warmest congratulations, friend Prilicla.”
To Captain Fletcher it added dryly, “As I recall them, my words were ‘when convenient,’ not ‘as soon as possible.’ One does not give orders to a Sector General Diagnostician.”
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