They went quickly through minerals, agricultural products and animal
skins; established that Felicians could not teleport, levitate or read
minds. They were technologically uneducated, and had no industry on the
factory-system level.
"It is coal or nothing, Mr. Stephens," Blahrog said with finality.
"Isn't there some way to make the Federation believe that our coal is
superior to other coal, and worth more?"
"Do you, perchance, own a sizable proportion of Felician coal reserves?"
Blahrog nodded, guilty looking again.
"Well, forget it. There isn't enough."
* * * * *
The Everking, who had been holding Andy's translator to his ear in
silence, burst into speech.
"His Foreverness says," Blahrog remarked cannily, "that it appears
impossible for Felix II to join the Federation."
"We aren't through yet," Andy said quickly. "What about the tourist
industry? If you'd allow visitors and advertise a little...."
"No," the Everking shouted, in Galactic.
"We tried that during the last reign," Blahrog said. "It didn't work."
"You're pretty far off the shipping lanes, I'll admit," Andy said,
"but surely you could attract enough tourists from somewhere to show a
profit."
"We showed a profit," Blahrog said morosely.
He translated a remark of the Everking's. "We made money hand over
fist."
"Then why did you quit?" Andy was baffled. "Why did you restrict the
planet?"
"Because of the way we happen to look."
"Like leprechauns," Miss Featherpenny explained. "And Hrom looks
exactly like a little Christmas fairy."
Blahrog winced. "The tourists found us amusing. We weren't real to
them. It became difficult for us to seem real to ourselves. Most of
my generation couldn't grow up. The birth rate dropped. We closed the
planet to keep the race alive. That's all there is to it."
"Surely," Andy protested, "if you handled it differently...."
"Tourists," Blahrog translated for the Everking, "are out of the
question."
"I remember hearing about an intelligent life form that resembled
teddy bears," Miss Featherpenny said thoughtfully. "Everybody loved
them on sight."
"What happened to them?" Blahrog asked with interest.
"They became extinct."
* * * * *
Andy glared at her. How could he accomplish anything with a stupid
steno butting in? She looked away, guilty.
"It's such a simple solution," he said. "It fits your situation
perfectly."
"That's what we thought, until we tried it," Blahrog said, grinning
sidelong at Miss Featherpenny.
"If you won't try tourists," Andy snapped at both of them, "I don't see
exactly what you can do."
"Maybe you didn't cover everything in the special abilities list," Miss
Featherpenny suggested softly.
Andy glared at her again. "All right, Blahrog. Can you think of
anything you can do that most other species can't?"
Blahrog looked at the floor and considered. "We can walk a long way
without getting tired," he offered.
Andy sighed, and wrote "Endurance?" on his scratch pad. It was scarcely
saleable. "Is there anything else? Anything you know how to make?
Besides Throatduster."
"We make good shoes," Blahrog said hopefully. "The tourists used to buy
lots of them."
"Hum," Andy cogitated. "Here we have something for which a market
already exists. If we can expand the market and the production
facilities...." He nailed Blahrog with a finger, in conscious imitation
of Crumbly. "How many pairs of shoes can Felix II produce in a single
season?"
"If the reserves were called in to the Cobbler's Guild, it would be
almost half the manpower of the planet...." Blahrog paused, doing
mental arithmetic. "Four and a half million pairs, more or less." He
sounded as though he were surprised.
"That ought to do it," Andy said gleefully.
"But where will we find that many pairs of feet?" Blahrog asked.
"There are eight million times that many pairs of feet in the
Federation," Andy said. "Leave the advertising to Planetary Promotions."
"It seems sort of poetic," Miss Featherpenny romanced. "Leprechauns are
supposed to be cobblers."
Blahrog snorted.
Andy turned and addressed her from the full distance between a promoter
third class and a girl from the steno pool. "Miss Featherpenny, I will
ask for your opinion when I want it."