LD 57—And the RporRians are infamous for their ability to negotiate, i.e. rob you blind. Do you see this as a continuing problem?
THE 412—No. I am confident the matter will soon be resolved ...
CUT BACK TO INTERIOR OF THE CONFINEMENT CUBE. AS THE FORCECAN BEGINS TO DISSIPATE, THE PURPLE FUMES OF THE OMEGA GAS RISE HIGHER AND HIGHER. FROM THE COMMUNICATOR WE HEAR PITEOUS SCREAMS OF TERROR.
THE 412—We should get everything settled pretty quickly.
* * * *
TRANSCRIPT #25
FADE IN ON THE CONTROL CONSOLE WITH ORBLUK SNEEV AND VOCK AK-AK. BEHIND THEM IS A MR.ZISH DRINK MACHINE. ORBLUK HAS ACCELERATED THE BLINKING SEQUENCE OF HER RUNNING LIGHTS AND VOCK'S BODY IS COVERED WITH THE BEGINNINGS OF AN ELABORATE PATTERN. THE TWO ANCHOR BEINGS ARE DRINKING BOWLS OF A HOT, MILKY LIQUID.
ORBLUK—We have just seen the surprise results of the RporRian testimony. A dropping of the charges connected with the Terrans visit to that waste receptacle of a planet.
VOCK—(sip) Sense to me it makes. Pressing forward with these minor charges would necessitate continued contact with the RporRians. (With a spare flipper, he smears a dirty green paste over the back of his neck.) The Great Golden Ones have obviously decided that it is not worth the risk of the bugs escaping.
ORBLUK—No dissension there, my friend. In fact, the RporRians are already back on their homeworld. (pause-smile) But now, we have a special treat for our viewers. A lot of sentients are disappointed that the RporRians agreed to testify. So our Special Effects Department has created a computer simulation of what would have happened if the bugs had refused. Let's go to that now, shall we?
ZOOM IN TO THE WALL SCREEN—INTERIOR CONFINEMENT CUBE. THE FORCECAN SLOWLY FADES AWAY, AND ONE BY ONE THE SCREAMING RPORRIANS DROP INTO THE BOILING VAT.
TECHNICAL NOTE: FOR NON-LIBRARY USE INSERT LAUGH TRACK.
* * * *
TRANSCRIPT #37
FADE IN ON MOGACHEF WHO HAS STEAM RISING FROM HER OUTER VENTS. TECHNICAL NOTE: FOR THE SAKE OF GOOD TASTE, PLEASE KEEP THE CAMERA OFF THOSE LAST TWO VENTS, UNLESS THINGS GET DULL. THEN ZOOM IN FOR A CLOSE UP.
MOGACHEF—Semi-Lord Brent has just delivered a truly inspired plea for his clients. In brief, that the Gee blockade about their planet was not fully erect at the time, and that the United Countries of Dirt had never received an official notice of non-passage. Their forced boarding of the Gee superdreadnought can be argued as an act of purest desperation, and they did leave enough thulium to purchase the vessel. Plus, the Avantor and The 16 were not kidnapped, but taken on board the Ramariez in need of immediate medical help. It was their own anti-social behavior that caused their continued incarceration. (pause) That has been an issue raised again and again during this trial, the gross incompetence of the Great Golden Ones; from Leader Idow's initial landing upon Tellus, to the human's accidental breaching of the criminal infested weapon cache in star system #5534262. An informal poll taken at a frozen Zish stand shows that many sentients are of the opinion that the Gees have degenerated into a race of incompetents. Needless to say, this is a dangerous line of thought.
INTERNAL VIEW OF THE COLISEUM. ZOOM IN A MEDIUM VIEW OF A DRUNKEN CHORON FIRING A PLASMA PISTOL WILDLY INTO THE AIR. AN AVANTOR APPEARS AND REMOVES THE WEAPON FROM HIS HAND WITH A PSIONIC BLAST. THEN A SQUAD OF WAROBOTS TELEPORT ABOUT THE STONY GIANT, WRESTLE HIM TO THE GROUND AND HAUL THE CHORON OFF TO A WAITING HEDRON PRISON SHIP.
MOGACHEEF (voice over)—As you can see, if the Gees are fumbling has-beens, then they are fumbling has-beens who still possess formidable weaponry. Let's replay that final summation of Semi-Lord Brent, shall we?
CROSS FADE TO A CLOSE UP OF TSHOG BRENT, HIS NOSE HORN FLASHING MAGNIFICENTLY IN THE OVERHEAD SUN.
BRENT—The Gee's main objection to my clients being granted the right to join galactic society in the first place was that Humanity had failed to, quote earn that right end quote, by the established method of developing their own stardrive. This blindly ignores the mitigating circumstances behind their actions. Once exposed to the fact of Galactic civilization, and then denied access to it, as the Gee's blockade was meant to do, this would have caused the death of the young civilization, just as surely as if Leader Idow had been allowed to carry out his plans. What must they do to win the approval of the Great Golden Ones? Raise the dead? I again state that the Galactic League owes my clients immediate membership status and a dropping of all charges!
THE COLISEUM ERUPTS INTO CHEERS, HOWLS AND SQUEALS OF APPROVAL. AFTER SEVERAL REQUESTS FOR QUIET OVER THE PA SYSTEM FAIL, TEN THOUSAND GEE SUPERDREADNOUGHT DESCENDED FROM THE SKY AND BATHE THE ENTIRE STADIUM WITH STOP THAT CANNON FIRE.
* * * *
TRANSCRIPT #150
FADE IN ON THE CONTROL BOOTH. ORBLUK IS WEARING SUNGLASSES, AND THE GARISH PRESENCE OF VOCK AK-AK IS BEGINNING TO CAUSE COLOR STREAKING WITH THE CAMERA.
VOCK—An astounding decision by the Great Golden Ones, eh, Orbluk?
ORBLUK—Truth you speak, Vock, this is a major concession by the
Great Golden Ones, and quite likely directly traceable
to the Terran's outstanding achievements of killing
Leader Idow, destroying the rogue warobot Silverside and
out bargaining the RporRian Queen/Mother. Factors they
just could not ignore in light of the public sentiment
stirred up by Semi-Lord Brent. Let's have a replay of
that decision.
CROSSFADE INTO A CLOSE UP OF THE 3,000. THE GEE MALE LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD RATHER BE DOING ANYTHING ELSE.
THE 3000—It is with great reluctance that we concede that it was due to errors on our part that Leader Idow managed to land on and make contact with the human race. Having the knowledge and the reality of Galactic civilization thrust down their air intake valves in such a fashion would have destroyed any lesser robust species. Yet in face of imminent destruction, Terra completely reorganized it's government, from opposing nation states to a unified ruling body, almost instantaneously. This is most impressive. It's subsequent actions are even more so, and would have done credit to any young, outwardly reaching, intelligent species not plagued with mental disorders.
FREEZE THE GEE
VOCK—(voice over) Told I am that the humans wished the wording of that particular passage changed, but Semi-Lord Brent has told them to quit while they still had both feelers in the air.
UNFREEZE THE GEE
THE 3000—As a result, we are at this time prepared to drop most of the charges against Humanity.
CUT TO THE CROWD GOING WILD. BUT THEN EVERYBODY QUIETS AS A HOLOGRAPHIC IMAGE OF THE 3000 SUDDENLY APPEARS IN THE AIR AND EXPANDS UNTIL IT FILLS THE COLISEUM WITH HIS PRESENCE.
THE 3000 (booming echo)—The charges we will not drop are those resulting from the deliberate and planned attack upon the Avantor's centihedron M-21-3. This act of piracy we cannot forgive. We charge all of humanity with complicity in this act. For this crime, and this crime alone, we demand the ultimate penalty.
CUT BACK TO THE CONTROL ROOM.
ORBLUK—Well, I'd say that pretty much wrapped it up for the Terrans.
VOCK—Truth you speak. (He glances down at his almost completed body of work.) Shame, as a race they gave off much color. (With a sad air, he begins to mix a large pot of cream and liberally applies it to his body.)
* * * *
TRANSCRIPT #151:
Notice: Do not tamper with, or alter, this following section in any way whatsoever under penalty of the law.
FADE FROM BLACK TO THE CONTROL BOOTH, WHERE A WILD EYED ORBLUK AND A SMEARY VOCK APPEAR TO BARELY BE IN CONTROL OF THEMSELVES.
ORBLUK—Viewers, we have just received rumor of an incredible
event taking place at the human encampment. We take you
there now!
VOCK—Yes! Do now it!
ZOOM IN TO THE SCREEN BEHIND THEM. THERE STANDS A DISHEVELED MOGACHEF, HER OUTFIT HAS OBVIOUSLY BEEN PUT ON IN GREAT HASTE AS ALL OF THE SPINDLES ARE INVERTED. BEHIND HER WE SEE
THE SECTION OF THE HUMAN ENCAMPMENT WHICH CONTAINS THE RAMARIEZ. PEOPLE AND ROBOTS ARE RUNNING/FLYING EVERYWHERE.
MOGACHEF—Sentients, a monumental discovery has been made aboard the human starship, where they have been billeted through the whole trial. I am speaking now with the human responsible for the excitement, medical technician Paul Van Loon. Doctor, what have you done?
VAN LOON—I don't really understand what the fuss is about. The Gees were going through our hydroponics section when they seemed to go bananas, uh, crazy. It was just an experiment to see if I could germinate some alien seeds I'd found on the Great Golden Ones’ ship. Well, I gave it a try ...
ZOOM IN PAST THE TWO TO FOCUS ON THE RAMARIEZ. A HUSH ENVELOPES THE COLISEUM AS A GEE APPEARS IN THE HATCH. TIGHT ZOOM IN TO SEE HIM GENTLY LEADING OUT AN AMBULATORY BUSH WITH MULTIPLE BRANCHING LIMBS, A SMALL PUCKERED BARK FACE AND ARTICULATED FEET ROOTS. SUDDENLY, THE SILENCE IS BROKEN BY THE DISTANT THUMPS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE FAINTING.
MOGACHEEF—(whisper) By Prime Builder's heart and blood, it's a Koolgoolagan!
VAN LOON (voice over)—Nothing seemed to work until I got the idea of liquefying the excess leaves and soaking the seeds in the juice. I figured it's supposed to be this great restorative, so why shouldn't it work on it's own species?
AN OFF CAMERA SCREAM. CUT BACK TO THE CONTROL ROOM, WHERE IS SEEN ONLY THE SANDAL CLAD FEET OF ORBLUK SNEEV STICKING STRAIGHT UP IN THE AIR FROM BEHIND THE CONSOLE, AND A FRANTIC VOCK AK-AK WHO IS TRYING TO PAINT HIMSELF WITH FOUR FLIPPERS AT ONCE.
* * * *
TRANSCRIPT #250
FADE IN TO SEE THE GALACTIC LEAGUE STANDING IN A SMALL POOL OF LIGHT, SURROUNDED BY A SEA OF BLACKNESS.
LEAGUE—Sentients and friends, our decision in this matter must take into account the greatest good for the greatest number. The wishes of individuals, whether individual beings or individual planets are weighed, evaluated and, occasionally, discarded. (pause) Therefore, it is our decision that the inhabitants of the Sol star system, indigenous to the planet known as Dirt, heretofore referred to as Terrans, are cleared of all charges and are hereby granted admittance to the Galactic League. (pause) However, the crew of the UNSF: starship Hector Ramariez has been found guilty of the charges brought before them. Their sentence is life imprisonment upon Galopticon 7. (pause) But due to the extenuating circumstances involved and taking into consideration the many extraordinary actions they have performed which will, directly and indirectly, benefit Galactic Society, including the actions of Dr. Paul Van Loon which have changed the course of history, by the power invested in us, we do hereby commute their sentence to 5 standard years. At which time any survivors will be released. This is the decision of the Galactic League. Court is adjourned.
THE HOLOGRAPH DIMS AND FADES AWAY, DOLLY DOWN TO A GROUND LEVEL VIEW OF SMILING TECHNICIANS WHO ARE ALREADY BREAKING APART THE RECORDING EQUIPMENT.
CUT TO—A PANORAMIC VIEW OF THE CROWD ERUPTING INTO PANDEMONIUM. THE SOUND OF CHEERING CONTINUES UNTIL THE END OF THE TAPE.
CUT TO—A CLOSE UP OF THE 3000 NODDING AND TURNING AWAY.
CUT TO—PROFESSOR RAJAVUR AND CAPTAIN KELLER SHAKING HANDS AND
CLAPPING SEMI-LORD BRENT ON THE BACK.
CUT TO—DISTANCE SHOT OF THOUSANDS OF GEE SOLDIERS ADVANCING ON THE HUMAN ENCAMPMENT.
CUT TO—WIDE ANGLE VIEW OF THE HUMANS ROUNDED UP AND MANACLED TOGETHER BY THEIR GOLDEN GUARDS. SOME OF THE PRISONERS APPEAR TO BE WEEPING, BUT MOST HAVE A LOOK OF TRIUMPHANT PRIDE ON THEIR FACES.
CUT TO—THE CONTROL BOOTH WHERE VOCK AK-AK IS SPRAYING HIS BODY WITH CLEAR PLASTIC. ORBLUK AND MOGACHEF ARE SHARING A CONGRATULATORY BOWL OF ZISH. LD 59 MERRILY BOBS IN THE AIR ABOVE THEM, A POWER PACK CLUTCHED IN EACH METALLIC HAND.
CUT TO—SKYWARD VIEW OF A GOLDEN POLYHEDRON PRISON SHIP LANDING IN THE HUMAN SECTOR.
CUT TO—THE REMAINING HUMANS PROTESTING AS THEY ARE PUSHED OUT OF THE WAY.
CUT TO—MEDIUM SHOT OF THE CHAINED HUMANS AS THEY MARCH ON BOARD THE POLYHEDRON SHIP. FOCUS ON EACH FACE AS THEY BRAVELY GO ON BOARD AND PRINT THEIR NAMES ON THE BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN: KELLER, VAN LOON, JONES, BUCKLEY, SOUKUP, HAMLISCH, LILLIUOKALANI, HASSAN, TRELL, SAKADEA, LIEBERMAN, FURSTENBURG, RAJAVUR, COURTNEY, BRONSON, MALA-VADE, WU, NICHOLI, DRILL ...
CUT TO—THE PRISON SHIP LAUNCHING. TRACK IT UNTIL THE VESSEL REACHES SPACE AND JUMPS INTO HYPERSPACE. HOLD CAMERA ON EMPTY SKY FOR THIRTY SECONDS.
CUT TO—A HORDE OF REPORTERS AND A DELEGATION FROM BIG ADVANCING TO GREET THE UNITED COUNTRIES OF DIRT. SLOWLY PULL BACK AS THE GROUPS INTERMINGLE.
CROSSFADE—AN EXTERNAL VIEW OF THE COLISEUM.
ROLL CREDITS.
FADE TO BLACK.
FADE OUT CHEERING.
End Transcript.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Of course, what the citizens of the galaxy saw was a sham. The real trial of humanity took place in the private office of the Galactic League and lasted about five minutes.
* * * *
Locked in the unbreakable grip of Gee tractor beams, the Ramariez was unceremoniously hauled through hyperspace to Big, and forced to land at a military spaceport. A vigilant armada of centihedron warships filling all of nearby space and blanketing any possible thought of escape, of which the humans had none. This is what they had been struggling for from the beginning, to meet the Galactic League.
Under the harsh scrutiny of warobots and riot barrages, the crew disembarked and was marched to a complex of teleporters, accompanied by a heavily armed, grim faced, trigger happy, Avantor and The 16. In a blinding flash, the eighty humans and three aliens disappeared. Only to reappear inside a long magnificent hall of polished blue stone and curved golden arches.
Disquietingly they saw that the passageway had no windows, and only a single sparkling door some twenty meters away.
“Far freaking out,” Drill breathed in frank appreciation. This place was even nicer than the main lobby at the Sheraton Hotel on 34th Street!
Resting on his cane, the teenager rubbed his sore leg. In a cavalier attitude, he ignored the ominous tones of the one way structure, placing his total faith in the ability of the UN Space Marines to get them out whenever necessary. Those guys were serious butt kickers.
“Okay, now what?” Keller asked, maintaining a respectful distance from the Gees. No matter how good the intentions, it was an awkward situation, guards and prisoners reversing roles.
Avantor scowled and pointed the barrel of her neural disrupter at the man, the ghastly weapon set on its highest and most painful level of radiation: Four Day Drunk Hangover.
“No talking among the prisoners,” she ordered brusquely.
The captain shrugged, Rajavur gave a harumph and Sgt. Lieberman silently asked Lt. Sakadea a question. His expression told her to wait. With a cough and a finger motion, she relayed these orders to the troops.
In spite of the fact that the smooth blue floor beneath them appeared to be made of solid stone, suddenly the whole group began to move along the corridor. In effortless ease, they glided down the pristine hallway, through a shimmering energy curtain and into a dimly lit area. As the protective energy portal sealed in their wake, the lights came on and the humans found themselves in a small room.
The unadorned floor and walls were made of a nondescript material that defied visual analysis. But as if to offset the incredible blandness of the cubicle, in the middle of the room was a shimmering, meter high, crystal pedestal with a green silk pillow on top. Sitting proudly on the pillow, was a plump frog. True, it was a purple frog with three eyes and eight legs, but a simple ecaudata batrachia nonetheless.
“Order: salientia, genus: rana,” a crewmember noted.
Trell shushed her. This was no time for a biology lesson.
“Greetings from the Galactic League,” the frog said in a high pitched voice, minus the expected croak.
Holstering their disrupters, the Gees saluted and bowed, while the humans did a quick reality check.
“You're the league?” Hassan asked dumbfounded.
The female am
phibian puffed out her cheeks before answering. “Not precisely. This body is only the organic conduit through which the league communicates. This is the Galactic League."
In the manner of a morning mist, the room about them disappeared and the humans found themselves standing on a swatch of floor surrounded by a truly immense globe, a dark sphere whose inner wall was lined with sleeping creatures inside frosty glass tubes. Crystal rods, or perhaps beams of light, connected each glittering tube to another; the resulting conglomeration ending in a dazzling display of such superscience that Clarke's Law about magic & technology seemed to be invoked.
"Madre mia!"
“Holy crap!"
"Gott en himmel!"
“Wow! I say, I say, wow, son!"
Obviously preening, the frog relished their reactions of awe and surprise. Even though primarily made of diplomats and scientists, many of the members of the Galactic League had a strong dramatic streak and enjoyed a touch of showmanship every now and then.
“Wait, I understand,” Ensign Lilliuokalani whispered. “This represents a sample of every race in space. The individuals placed in suspended animation, and then mind liked together to form the Galactic League."
The rest of the group murmured assent at the deduction.
Though it was hard to tell, the frog seemed impressed. Nobody had ever figured out the operating principle of the League that quickly before. The humans were proving to be everything they had been advertised to be.
“Utterly fascinating,” Prof. Rajavur noted, only his fifteen years of playing poker enabling him to maintain a calm facade. “This is most definitely the very first time I have ever heard the imperial ‘we’ used properly."
Via the frog, the composite brain chuckled at the witticism.
Only the Gee officers and a robot file clerk in the Hall of Data knew that this present personae of The League was a distant grandchild of the arch criminal Squee. More highly evolved, but just as vicious. Like so many others before it, when given a choice of becoming the voice of the league, or Galopticon 7, the law-breaker readily agreed to the former. After their bodily functions had been stabilized, and the computer link implanted, they lived a long and useful life paying for their crimes by serving the community.
Illegal Aliens Page 32