"No!" the Japanese Governor lashed out savagely; but in a moment a
fleeting smile crossed his face. "Send for Olduk," he said.
Olduk entered the room, unsteadily, supported by two plain-clothesmen.
His face was clean of blood, but the little, horrible marks inflicted
on him were all too evident.
"You wished to see me?" he said in a hoarse whisper. His eyes were
bloodshot.
"Yes. What do you want of Earth, explicitly?"
"Water, honorable sir. Water for my people. As much as we wish, when we
wish it, at a reasonable price; and we also desire friendship, so that
we may help each other."
The Japanese sucked in his breath, quivering angrily. "You want our
friendship. Yet you do this to our people!"
"You do no less to my people, honorable sir. Olduk is sorry, see?" He
weaved, caught onto a chair to support himself. His leathery, parchment
face seemed more wrinkled and bloodless than ever before. His reddish
eyes held a deep, pleading hope.
"We are children of Tantalus, all," he whispered. "It is not right
that we live in a mythical Hades, see, honorable sirs? Give my people
water--"
He pitched forward on his face. The Speaker started toward him, his
eternal sphere of water in his hands, but the Japanese stopped him,
held him back from the sprawling, twelve-foot figure.