Stabilizing itself once more in synchronous orbit, the immense Tzarean
ship generated internal gravity and meted out isotonic saline solution
to a number of tanks in crew's quarters.
In the central compartment it was a triumphant, impassioned Chancellor
Vrausot who turned his massive hulk on Mittich and hissed-clicked,
"There! I told you they had come unarmed! There was absolutely no
response to the attack!"
Grim-faced, the Assemblyman only stared at him.
Vrausot paced, thumping his stout tail against the deck with each
stride. It was a gesture that expressed anxiety.
"Don't you see what that means, Mittich? They _knew_ we would be out
here. They had independently corroborating evidence to that effect. Yet
they came unarmed. They _are_ a peaceful, naive, unsuspecting race of
sitting _uraphi_!"
Very weakly, the Assemblyman reminded, "Our purpose, then, is to make
amiable contact and determine--"
It was no use, though. The Chancellor wasn't listening. He had
absolutely no sense of honor or ethical appreciation. But, Mittich
reflected, that should have come as no surprise. It was to have been
extrapolated from the Chancellor's political history. And now the
distressing fact had to be faced: Vrausot was a megalomaniac.
The Chancellor drew proudly erect and his tail stiffened. "But _we're_
not weak! Kavula--see that all gun crews stand by. We're going to
finish them off now that we've established their inability to inflict
damage on us."
Mittich drew back, appalled at the fierce determination behind the
Chancellor's driving ambition for conquest, disgusted with his own
inability to turn Vrausot's purpose aside. How to stop him?
It was Mittich who paced this time, helplessly wrestling with the
impossible problem of preventing the Chancellor from compounding
Tzarean dishonor.
Frustrated, he pivoted on his tail and returned to the teleview screen.
Focusing on the landing site below, he zoomed in for an extreme
close-up. The aliens were still scurrying around outside their crippled
ship, glancing occasionally into the sky as though terrified over the
possibility of another assault.
Mittich adjusted the instrument to its operational limits, as he had
wanted to do on so many occasions since they had brought the aliens
under observation.
Two of the creatures were facing the mountain range behind which hid
the Tzarean ship. Anxiously, the Assemblyman moved in and studied their
heads, clearly visible through transparent helmets.
He drew in a startled breath. He must be mistaken. Of course he was. He
could see that now.
Yet, there _was_ something fascinating as he compared one of the heads
with the other. What impressed him most was the contrast. There was an
indisputable difference--many differences. Then he tensed with sudden
realization. Perhaps he _could_ forestall their fate.
* * * * *
"Chancellor," he called out softly. "Don't you think it might be a good
idea to take prisoners?"
"Drown the prisoners!" Vrausot swore. "We don't need them."
"Yes, I realize that. But--well, look at the screen."
The other studied the picture. The scales of his forehead strained
erect as he pondered the contrast Mittich had already noticed.
"Observe the one on the left," the Assemblyman suggested.