An Alien Affair

by L. Ron Hubbard

  "No more slaves!" I said hastily.

  "No, no," he said. "I got you into a hole on that one. And you don't want any prostitutes, either. The type I have in mind are just women who need money for a dowry. They need money to get married. You can get a one-night stand with such a woman. Good lookers, too. Lots of variety. Different one every night. Spread it around. And they're real hot, too."

  Oh, that sounded good!

  He continued, "Now, to do this right, you should have a big car. Women go in for big things and that includes a big car. You remember that bulletproof limousine I told you about? The ex-general's car? The one who got shot? It's still for sale up in Istanbul."

  A snag suddenly occurred to me. "Wait. You can't get women on a credit card. And I'm trying to swear off, anyway."

  "On women?" he said, astonished.

  "No. Credit cards. I hate the things."

  "Well, you don't need to use credit cards," he said. "Just deal in cash. So if you'll just give me some money..."

  It was time to confess. He was, after all, my friend. "I'm stone-broke," I said. "I don't have any money at all."

  The taxi driver started up the car rather quickly, I thought. He dropped me off at the villa up the road. He didn't even say good-bye.

  I stared after him.

  (Bleep)!

  It was all too plain to me that it took money to get things done. Life without money, as I had always known, was death.

  I limped back to my room with this awful ache.

  (Bleep) Prahd!

  I decided some physical work might take my mind off my plight. I warmed up my secret office, stripped myself down and began to clean guns, sweep away old clothes and, by late afternoon, began to straighten up the mess of fake gold bars and the boxes.

  Puttering around, I was mostly done when I saw that one of the cases had fallen onto some packages of unexamined mail.

  Idly, and with no thought, I picked up some of the letters. They had been forwarded from the Section 451 office on Voltar and had come in on recent freighters. Faht's orderly had slipped them through the slot in the tunnel door.

  Routine stuff. A notice that I'd been dropped from the Academy Alumnus Association for the nonpayment of dues. A bill from a gun dealer on Flisten—years old and I didn't intend to be on duty on Flisten soon. An advertisement for new General Services officer caps "that would remain undamaged under the hardest blows of troops' cudgels." An ad for the latest release of "the ever more popular sweetheart of Homeview, Hightee Heller," song strips, featuring hits from the new musical show that was "jamming Voltar theaters nightly: Bold Prince Caucalsia." A warning that I had not acknowledged reading the latest general Apparatus order about filling in forms that listed the correct sequences of forms and must fill in the attached form at once. A new type of chank-pop that "totally eradicated for seconds at a time the gaseous odors of troops." A special offer to Apparatus officers only—a fun gift for their friends —exploding boots. An electronic bird whistle, available in dozen lots, that called in selected types of female songbirds for breeding purposes.

  What's this?

  Two personal postcards? The kind you send to friends and are wide open in the mails for anyone to read. Who could this be? I didn't have any friends.

  I looked at the signature and gaped. The Widow Tayl!

  The first card said:

  Soltan Gris Section 451 Please Forward.

  Yoo-Hoo. Wherever you are. I'm just coming along great.

  What shall we name it? Why don't you write?

  The lovey-dovey woman you heartlessly abandoned,

  Pratia

  Return to Pratia Tayl

  Minx Estate

  Pausch Hills

  Oh, my Gods! Open like that right through the office for anyone to read! You could be cashiered for knocking somebody up and not marrying them! The law was all on her side.

  The second card was worse! It said:

  Soltan Gris

  Officer of the Apparatus still, unless his commanding officer finds out he didn't marry me if he didn't the next time I see him.

  Yoo-Hoo! Wherever you are.

  He is just coming along fine. It is too soon to feel him kick yet. What schools shall we send him to when he is born? How about the Academy like his father? And maybe buy him a commission in the Fleet. Please waste no time in writing me quickly so as to save all the tedious trouble of hiring lawyers which is so time wasting when one could be so nicely busy doing other things.

  The loving pregnant girl you left behind,

  Pratia Tayl

  Minx Estate

  Turn right off the main road at the

  Inn of the Rutting Beast.

  Pausch Hills

  PS: Young officers are always welcome, in or out of uniform, to look into this case. (You can also use the landing pad day or night.)

  (Bleep) her!

  She was trying to get me into trouble! The one thing I had vowed from earliest youth was never, never, NEVER to get married! Who wanted cooking utensils sizzling through the air around one's head? Who wanted all the killings that followed digging brother officers out of your wife's bed?

  And, curse it all, Prahd said he had certified and registered her pregnancy before he left Voltar!

  (Bleep), (bleep), (BLEEP) Prahd! It was a good thing he was legally dead. Otherwise, I would have shot him out of hand!

  Bad off as I might be for women, it could never include the Widow Tayl! She murdered husbands at the slightest pretext. But I had to be honest. That wasn't the real reason.

  I could just plain never, never forgive her for her fixation on Heller. The nerve of her, with me right there, having automatic (bleeps) just at the thought of that (bleeped) Heller! And even when she had only seen him just once for less than a minute. Never even talked to him!

  Oh, the Widow Tayl was not for me! I might be hard up but not THAT hard up!

  Let her go on dreaming of Heller all she liked. I was safely twenty-two and more light-years away!

  But it served to cool my ardor off a bit. I almost stopped aching in the place where it hurt. To Hells with her and to Hells with Heller!

  And then I thought of having rooted Heller out of the Gracious Palms. To deprive him of those women was rare punishment. I had the upper hand when all was said. I laughed.

  I thought I had better take the blanket off his viewer and enjoy his discomfiture.

  Chapter 5

  He was standing in a park, looking out across the East River. A wintry wind was putting small whitecaps on the water and gulls were flying low.

  He turned and his eyes rested for a moment on the Statue of Peace and then, passing on, looked down the Esplanade where the flags of many nations streamed and whipped.

  Heller was at the United Nations!

  A chill of premonition that had nothing to do with the stormy cold he saw swept across me. What business could he possibly have there?

  His gaze was watchful on the broad walkway before the doors of the General Assembly Building, looking often down East 46th Street. I knew the area well: He was expecting someone from the city to arrive here in the United Nations area.

  A group caught his attention. There were five in it.

  They were caped and hooded in furs. It was possible that he did not expect them to see him as he moved forward into plainer view.

  The group stopped. One of them pointed at the distant Heller. They all looked.

  Then they began to run toward him. They were calling out glad cries. "Pretty boy!" "Oh, you darling!"

  They were running toward him and he was running toward them.

  They met in a gladly shouting turmoil!

  They were trying to kiss his cheeks and seize his hands.

  They were women from the Gracious Palms! I recognized Margie and Minette and the tall high-yellow!

  "Oh, pretty boy! We have been so lonesome without you!" cried one.

  "We missed you so!" cried another.

  "Eet 'as bean a zentury!" cried
Minette.

  My Gods, they were beautiful women! All bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. What right did he have to such glorious creatures? He had never even slept with any of them!

  "We didn't think you'd come," said the tall high-yellow.

  "And miss this day?" said Heller.

  "I can't think how you would," said Margie. "After all, it was your idea."

  "No, no," said Heller. "It was Vantagio's. He's the political expert. And you girls did all the work."

  Minette said, "Oh, an' 'ow we 'ave work'! So veree, veree 'ard! We 'ave lobby an' lobby, night after night, up and down. All ze girls 'ave really put eet to ze delegates: eef zey don' pass ze bill, we knock zem up! An' we boycott zere pantings."

  "I think these UN delegates got the point," said

  Margie. "Any delegate that doesn't vote a loud 'aye' on this bill knows he'll be under sanctions at the Gracious Palms."

  "We really put our backs into it," said the high-yellow. "This is one thing they can't take lying down!" "Oh, I think the bill will pass the General Assembly," he said.

  I was stunned. I had heard one or two of them mention to Heller, when he sat in the Gracious Palms lobby of evenings, that they were "working on something" with the UN delegate customers. But I didn't have a clue what chicanery had been going on in the dark of those whores' rooms. What was this bill?

  "We had better go in," said Heller. "It's coming up on the time for their final vote."

  They rushed in a happy mob through the doors of the General Assembly Building and up to the information desk in the lobby. A uniformed girl there looked up in some disapproval at their laughter and bustle.

  "You have special tickets for us," said the high-yellow. "The Delegate of Maysabongo said they would be here."

  "Ah, yes," said the clerk. "Five passes to the public gallery."

  "Six," said the high-yellow.

  The clerk had the envelope out and open. She counted five.

  "I weel zit on pretty boy's lap," said Minette.

  "No, I will," said Margie with decision.

  The high-yellow was reaching across the clerk to the passes in their boxes. She picked up one. "Nobody will," she said.

  "You can't do that!" said the clerk. "We are supposed to hand these out on a first come, first served basis. But this is a special session and we are expecting the wife of the president of the United States and a whole party from the Women's Liberation League...."

  "First come, first served," said the high-yellow, "is exactly the system we use, too."

  The clerk grabbed for the purloined ticket. "You can't!"

  "Can," said the high-yellow. "This is our bill that's being voted on! But if you're going to be that way about it, why don't you call the president of the General Assembly and tell him you are preventing Beulah from attending!"

  A guard came over. "I must caution you against unseemly noise here in the lobby and also if you are attending a meeting of the General Assembly, there must be neither noise nor applause in the public galleries. I think it might be best if you were to give the tickets back and..."

  "You tell your clerk that," said the high-yellow. "And if you want to keep your job, be polite. Here's your ticket, pretty boy. Shall we go in?"

  I wondered why the guard was suddenly escorting them to the entrance of the public galleries until I noticed Beulah, the high-yellow, had him by the arm just above the elbow. (Bleep) that Heller! He had taught these whores how to handle men. A traitor!

  They arrived in the public gallery, took front-row seats, and the girls were taking off their furs. They were beautifully dressed, satins and brocade. They got out compacts and repaired their makeup.

  The General Assembly was a vast hall of soothing elegance.

  There were just a few delegates on the floor so far. Others were arriving from time to time. They were very conscious of their own dignity as they took their seats behind the signs of their countries. But what was this?

  More than one of them glanced shyly toward the girls and made little hand motions that were extremely subdued waves.

  A tremendous bustle and fanfare occurred. The gallery suddenly swarmed with agents. The wife of the president of the United States came in, ignored by the delegates.

  Another bustle. Some females with Women's Liberation League ribbons across their chests came in. Also ignored.

  What was this bill? A fear began to rise in me that Heller, whom I had supposed was down and out, retained a lot of influence. It was bad news to me.

  At length the hall below was apparently as full as it would become. The public galleries were packed. Things were ready to begin.

  Heller and the girls were picking up the headphones in front of their seats. There was a dial there. It said English, French, Spanish, Russian, Chinese. Minette, beside Heller, was having trouble with the earphones and her hairdo. Heller helped her and then dialled French for her. He put his own on and dialled English. He looked up at the glass-enclosed translator booths on either side of the UN emblem. The place was mobbed with TV crews and their chatter was coming over the line. Evidently the media thought this was pretty important.

  But what the Hells bill was it? To bomb the Voltar base? To declare Soltan Gris an international criminal? I was worried.

  The president of the General Assembly came in and took his place at the rostrum in the center of the oval hall. He opened the proceedings.

  "We are met here today," he said, "for the final vote on UN Resolution 678-546-452. May I call for any last minute afterthoughts or reservations?"

  Holland got the floor. "It is our consideration that this bill will shake the world." The fat Dutchman looked up at the gallery and covertly winked.

  India wrapped a robe about himself and said, "I believe it must pass because of the riots in Pakistan."

  The U.S. rubbed his State Department-type face and said, "It is our considered opinion, which we wish to bring to the attention of the media, that it is high time we bowed our heads to the true sources of joy." And he bowed his head but he managed a slight smile toward the girls in the gallery.

  U.K. gave his trim military mustache a brush and said, "Her Majesty will wax very wroth if the bill is not passed." He cleared his throat twice in the direction of the Gracious Palms girls in the gallery.

  Maysabongo got the floor. "We cannot any longer neglect our members. I move the measure be read once more and put to the vote."

  Brazil said, "Seconded!"

  A man at the rostrum rose, an imposing scroll in his hands. A breathless hush gripped the hall. In a sonorous voice he read:

  UN Resolution 678-546-452.

  Hereas and wherewith, it is the wish and will of this, the General Assembly of the United Nations, by all sovereign powers attended, as follows, to wit:

  RESOLVED: WOMEN HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO BE THERMONUCLEAR BOMBED AND NOT TO BE FORCED TO SHUT UP BY SLAPPING OR TORTURE.

  In the tense room, before the breathless gallery, the vote was taken, one by one.

  As the count progressed, the packed gallery became more and more on the edge of their seats.

  Then the president of the General Assembly called out, "One hundred and forty member states in favor! Twenty-six abstentions! I hereby declare the measure PASSED!"

  PANDEMONIUM!

  Despite the most sacred law that there be no cheering from the gallery, the din was deafening!

  It was being led by the wife of the president of the United States!

  The whores weren't content with just cheering. They stood up in a row throwing kisses at the delegates!

  The delegates were throwing them back!

  That staid chamber was being rent by chaos!

  In vain the gavel rapped!

  In vain the guards raced around trying to say "Sssh!"

  And then Heller was helping the girls hurriedly into their furs.

  They streamed out of the building with the cheering throng.

  The five whores made a circle and forced Heller inside it and they began
to dance around and around him in front of the Statue of Peace!

  Breathless, they finally slowed down. They gathered in a group.

  Beulah said, "We've got to get back and tell all the girls that they won!"

  Heller said, "Almost won. It still has to go before the Security Council to become the law of the world."

  "Come with us," pleaded Margie, clutching at Heller.

  He shook his head. "I can't. And listen, all of you. I forbid you to tell anyone at the Gracious Palms that you saw me. I don't want any of you getting into trouble."

  "Not even wan leetle wheesper?" pleaded Minette.

  "Not one," said Heller. "I don't want you getting sacked because you were associating with me. Now promise."

  "Oh, pretty boy," said Beulah. "At such a glorious time! They miss you, pretty boy. The girls all cry when we speak of you!"

  "And I miss you," said Heller. "But go along now with your great news. The world will owe you a great debt if this gets by the Security Council. You did it all on your own."

  They kissed him on the cheek. They lingeringly touched his hands. And then they sped away down the Esplanade.

  Heller watched them out of sight. And then he slowly turned toward the river.

  A seagull was walking near to him. "Well, seagull," he said to it, "with any luck the Security Council will pass it and then you will be safe, too. And Miss Simmons will have to realize I am on her side."

  I was shaken right down to the bottom of my boots. Yes, it was very true that if that passed, Miss Simmons would not be just at his side but at his feet! She would even HELP him get his diploma! But although that in itself was very upsetting to me, in that it could cost me a valuable ally, it was not the main reason for my chill.

  The raw, naked power of the man! He had used women to get a UN General Assembly Resolution passed! He could use women to do anything he wished! Widow Tayl's impression of him proved it utterly!