Stranger in a Strange Land

Douglas started to stand up. Assemblyman Kung’s voice sharply interrupted. “One moment! How about the Larkin Decision?”

Jubal grabbed it before Douglas could speak. “Ah, yes, the Larkin Decision. I’ve heard quite a lot of nonsense talked about the Larkin Decision—but mostly from irresponsible persons. Mr. Kung, what about the Larkin Decision?”

“I’m asking you. Or your client. Or the Secretary General.”

Jubal said gently, “Shall I speak, Mr. Secretary?”

“Please do.”

“Very well.” Jubal paused, slowly took out a big handkerchief and blew his nose in a prolonged blast, producing a minor chord three octaves below middle C. He then fixed Kung with his eye and said solemnly, “Mr. Assemblyman, I’ll address this to you—because I know it is unnecessary to address it to the government in the person of the Secretary. Once a long, long tine ago, when I was a little boy, another little boy, equally young and foolish, and I formed a club. Just the two of us. Since we had a club, we had to have rules… and the first rule we passed, unanimously, I should add—was that henceforth we would always call our mothers, ‘crosspatch.’ Silly, of course… but we were very young. Mr. Kung, can you deduce the outcome of that ‘rule’?”

“I won’t guess, Dr. Harshaw.”

“I tried to implement our ‘Crosspatch’ decision once. Once was enough and it saved my chum from making the same mistake. All it got me was my young bottom well warmed with a peach switch. And that was the end of the ‘crosspatch’ decision.”

Jubal cleared his throat. “Just a moment, Mr. Kung. Knowing that someone was certain to raise this non-existent issue I tried to explain the Larkin Decision to my client. At first he had trouble realizing that anyone could think that this legal fiction would apply to Mars. After all, Mars is inhabited, by an old and wise race—much older than yours, sir, and possibly wiser. But when he did understand it, he was amused. Just that, sir—tolerantly amused. Once—just once—I under-rated my mother’s power to punish a small boy’s impudence. That lesson was cheap, a bargain—But this planet cannot afford such a lesson on a planetary scale. Before we attempt to parcel out lands which do not belong to us, it behooves us to be very sure what peach switches are hanging in the Martian kitchen.”

Kung looked blandly unconvinced—“Dr. Harshaw, if the Larkin Decision is no more than a small boy’s folly… why were national honors rendered to Mr. Smith?”

Jubal shrugged—“That question should be put to the government, not me. But I can tell you how I interpreted them—as elementary politeness to the Ancient Ones of Mars.”

“Please?”

“Mr. Kung, those honors were no hollow echo of the Larkin Decision. In a fashion quite beyond human experience, Mr. Smith is the Planet Mars.”

Kung did not even blink. “Continue.”

“Or, rather, the entire Martian race. In Smith’s person, the Ancient Ones of Mars are visiting us. Honors rendered to him are honors rendered to them—and harm done to him is harm done to them. This is true in a very literal but utterly unhuman sense. It was wise and prudent for us to render honors to our neighbors today—but the wisdom in it has nothing to do with the Larkin Decision. No responsible person has argued that the Larkin precedent applies to an inhabited planet—I venture to say that no one ever will.” Jubal paused and looked up, as if asking Heaven for help. “But, Mr. Kung, be assured that the ancient rulers of Mars do not fail to notice how we treat their ambassador. The honors rendered to them through him were a gracious symbol. I am certain that the government of this planet showed wisdom thereby. In time, you will learn that it was a most prudent act as well.”

Kung answered blandly, “Doctor, if you are trying to frighten me, you have not succeeded.”

“I did not expect to. But, fortunately for the welfare of this planet, your opinion did not control.” Jubal turned back to Douglas. “Mr. Secretary, this is the longest public appearance I have made in years… and I find that I am fatigued. Could we recess these talks? While we await your decision?”

XXI

THE MEETING ADJOURNED. Jubal found his intention of getting his flock out of the Palace balked by the presence of the American President and of Senator Boone; both wanted to chat with Mike, both were practical politicians who realized fully the freshly enhanced value of being seen on intimate terms with the Man from Mars—and both were well aware that the eyes of the world, via stereovision, were still on them.

And other hungry politicos were closing in.

Jubal said quickly, “Mr. President, Senator—we’re leaving at once to have lunch. Can you join us?” He reflected that two in private would be easier to handle than two dozen in public—and he had to get Mike out of there before anything came unstuck.