ked pained, as well they might.

"Let me pose a question, Honored Sirs," said Powers. "Suppose that in
your early history of creating your orderly realm you had discovered on
one of your islands a race of Falsethsa as advanced and regulated as
yourselves who wished nothing to do with you?" He could feel the
alerted tension of the four as the golden eyes glowed at him.

"The implications of your question are obvious," the First of the
Council spoke, as coldly as ever. "Do you threaten us with force from
your Combine devoted to peace?" The flat voice of the translator hummed
with acquired and impossible violence which Powers knew to be
subjective.

The First continued. "We would resist to the ultimate, down to the
least of our young and the most helpless female weed cultivator! Do
your worst!"

Powers sat back. He had done his best. The hereditary dictatorship of a
united world had spoken. No democratic minority had ever raised its
head here. The society of Mureess was stratified in a way ancient India
never thought of being, down to refuse collectors of a thousand
generations of dishonorable standing. Ancient Japan had been as rigidly
exclusionist but there _had_ been a progressive element there. Here
there was nothing. Nothing that is, except a united world of coldly
calculating and very advanced entities about to erupt into space with
Heaven knew what weapons and a murderous arrogance and race pride to
bolster them.

He thought of the dead orb called Sebelia, rolling around its worthless
sun, an object of nausea to all life. And he had helped. Well, the boys
in Biology had the ball now. He forced himself to listen to the First
of Council as he bade Mazechazz a courteous farewell.

"Depart in harmony and peace, Honorable Star-farers. May your Great
Mother be benign, when you return to give your high council our message
on the far-distant worlds you have shown us in the sky."

The Council departed, leaving Powers and Mazechazz staring at each
other in the council chamber, their gaudy uniforms looking a little
dull and drab.

"Well, Sakh," said Powers, his ruddy face a little flushed, "we can't
be perfect. They don't know about spacewarps and instantaneous
communicators. Plan II has nothing to do with us."

"Beyond our recommendation, you mean," said the Lyran flatly. "We have
failed, William. This means death for thousands of innocent beings,
perhaps more. Their world population is about eighty million, you
k