The DELEGATE FROM VENUS By HENRY SLESAR ILLUSTRATOR NOVICK _Everybody was waiting to see what the delegate from Venus looked like. And all they got for their patience was the biggest surprise since David clobbered Goliath. _ "Let me put it this way, " Conners said paternally. "We expect a certainamount of decorum from our Washington news correspondents, and that'sall I'm asking for. " Jerry Bridges, sitting in the chair opposite his employer's desk, chewedon his knuckles and said nothing. One part of his mind wanted him toplay it cagey, to behave the way the newspaper wanted him to behave, toprotect the cozy Washington assignment he had waited four years to get. But another part of him, a rebel part, wanted him to stay on the trailof the story he felt sure was about to break. [Illustration: The saucer was interesting, but where was thedelegate?] "I didn't mean to make trouble, Mr. Conners, " he said casually. "It justseemed strange, all these exchanges of couriers in the past two days. Icouldn't help thinking something was up. " "Even if that's true, we'll hear about it through the usual channels, "Conners frowned. "But getting a senator's secretary drunk to obtaininformation--well, that's not only indiscreet, Bridges. It's downrightdirty. " Jerry grinned. "I didn't take _that_ kind of advantage, Mr. Conners. Notthat she wasn't a toothsome little dish . .. " "Just thank your lucky stars that it didn't go any further. And from nowon--" He waggled a finger at him. "Watch your step. " Jerry got up and ambled to the door. But he turned before leaving andsaid: "By the way. What do _you_ think is going on?" "I haven't the faintest idea. " "Don't kid me, Mr. Conners. Think it's war?" "That'll be all, Bridges. " * * * * * The reporter closed the door behind him, and then strolled out of thebuilding into the sunlight. He met Ruskin, the fat little AP correspondent, in front of thePan-American Building on Constitution Avenue. Ruskin was holding thenewspaper that contained the gossip-column item which had started thewhole affair, and he seemed more interested in the romantic rather thanpolitical implications. As he walked beside him, he said: "So what really happened, pal? That Greta babe really let down herhair?" "Where's your decorum?" Jerry growled. Ruskin giggled. "Boy, she's quite a dame, all right. I think they oughtto get the Secret Service to guard her. She really fills out a size 10, don't she?" "Ruskin, " Jerry said, "you have a low mind. For a week, this town hasbeen acting like the _39 Steps_, and all you can think about is dames. What's the matter with you? Where will you be when the big mushroomcloud comes?" "With Greta, I hope, " Ruskin sighed. "What a way to get radioactive. " They split off a few blocks later, and Jerry walked until he came to theRed Tape Bar & Grill, a favorite hangout of the local journalists. Therewere three other newsmen at the bar, and they gave him snickeringgreetings. He took a small table in the rear and ate his meal in sullensilence. It wasn't the newsmen's jibes that bothered him; it was the certaintythat something of major importance was happening in the capitol. Therehad been hourly conferences at the White House, flying visits by StateDepartment officials, mysterious conferences involving members of theScience Commission. So far, the byword had been secrecy. They knew thatSenator Spocker, chairman of the Congressional Science Committee, hadbeen involved in every meeting, but Senator Spocker was unavailable. Hissecretary, however, was a little more obliging . .. Jerry looked up from his coffee and blinked when he saw who was comingthrough the door of the Bar & Grill. So did every other patron, but fordifferent reasons. Greta Johnson had that effect upon men. Even theconfining effect of a mannishly-tailored suit didn't hide heroutrageously feminine qualities. She walked straight to his table, and he stood up. "They told me you might be here, " she said, breathing hard. "I justwanted to thank you for last night. " "Look, Greta--" _Wham!_ Her hand, small and delicate, felt like a slab of lead when itslammed into his cheek. She left a bruise five fingers wide, and thenturned and stalked out. * * * * * He ran after her, the restaurant proprietor shouting about the unpaidbill. It took a rapid dog-trot to reach her side. "Greta, listen!" he panted. "You don't understand about last night. Itwasn't the way that lousy columnist said--" She stopped in her tracks. "I wouldn't have minded so much if you'd gotten me drunk. But to _use_me, just to get a story--" "But I'm a _reporter_, damn it. It's my job. I'd do it again if Ithought you knew anything. " She was pouting now. "Well, how do you suppose I feel, knowing you'reonly interested in me because of the Senator? Anyway, I'll probably losemy job, and then you won't have _any_ use for me. " "Good-bye, Greta, " Jerry said sadly. "What?" "Good-bye. I suppose you won't want to see me any more. " "Did I say that?" "It just won't be any use. We'll always have this thing between us. " She looked at him for a moment, and then touched his bruised cheek witha tender, motherly gesture. "Your poor face, " she murmured, and then sighed. "Oh, well. I guessthere's no use fighting it. Maybe if I _did_ tell you what I know, wecould act _human_ again. " "Greta!" "But if you print one _word_ of it, Jerry Bridges, I'll never speak toyou again!" "Honey, " Jerry said, taking her arm, "you can trust me like a brother. " "That's _not_ the idea, " Greta said stiffly. In a secluded booth at the rear of a restaurant unfrequented by newsmen, Greta leaned forward and said: "At first, they thought it was another sputnik. " "_Who_ did?" "The State Department, silly. They got reports from the observatoriesabout another sputnik being launched by the Russians. Only the Russiansdenied it. Then there were joint meetings, and nobody could figure out_what_ the damn thing was. " "Wait a minute, " Jerry said dizzily. "You mean to tell me there'sanother of those metal moons up there?" "But it's not a moon. That's the big point. It's a spaceship. " "A _what_?" "A spaceship, " Greta said coolly, sipping lemonade. "They have been incontact with it now for about three days, and they're thinking ofcalling a plenary session of the UN just to figure out what to do aboutit. The only hitch is, Russia doesn't want to wait that long, and isasking for a hurry-up summit meeting to make a decision. " "A decision about what?" "About the Venusians, of course. " "Greta, " Jerry said mildly, "I think you're still a little woozy fromlast night. " "Don't be silly. The spaceship's from Venus; they've already establishedthat. And the people on it--I _guess_ they're people--want to know ifthey can land their delegate. " "Their what?" "Their delegate. They came here for some kind of conference, I guess. They know about the UN and everything, and they want to take part. Theysay that with all the satellites being launched, that our affairs are_their_ affairs, too. It's kind of confusing, but that's what they say. " "You mean these Venusians speak English?" "And Russian. And French. And German. And everything I guess. They'vebeen having radio talks with practically every country for the pastthree days. Like I say, they want to establish diplomatic relations orsomething. The Senator thinks that if we don't agree, they might dosomething drastic, like blow us all up. It's kind of scary. " Sheshivered delicately. "You're taking it mighty calm, " he said ironically. "Well, how else can I take it? I'm not even supposed to _know_ about it, except that the Senator is so careless about--" She put her fingers toher lips. "Oh, dear, now you'll really think I'm terrible. " "Terrible? I think you're wonderful!" "And you promise not to print it?" "Didn't I say I wouldn't?" "Y-e-s. But you know, you're a liar sometimes, Jerry. I've noticed thatabout you. " * * * * * The press secretary's secretary, a massive woman with gray hair andimpervious to charm, guarded the portals of his office with all theindomitable will of the U. S. Marines. But Jerry Bridges tried. "You don't understand, Lana, " he said. "I don't want to _see_ Mr. Howells. I just want you to _give_ him something. " "My name's not Lana, and I _can't_ deliver any messages. " "But this is something he _wants_ to see. " He handed her an envelope, stamped URGENT. "Do it for me, Hedy. And I'll buy you the flashiest pairof diamond earrings in Washington. " "Well, " the woman said, thawing slightly. "I _could_ deliver it with hisnext batch of mail. " "When will that be?" "In an hour. He's in a terribly important meeting right now. " "You've got some mail right there. Earrings and a bracelet to match. " She looked at him with exasperation, and then gathered up a stack ofmemorandums and letters, his own envelope atop it. She came out of thepress secretary's office two minutes later with Howells himself, andHowells said: "You there, Bridges. Come in here. " "Yes, _sir_!" Jerry said, breezing by the waiting reporters with a grinof triumph. There were six men in the room, three in military uniform. Howells pokedthe envelope towards Jerry, and snapped: "This note of yours. Just what do you think it means?" "You know better than I do, Mr. Howells. I'm just doing my job; I thinkthe public has a right to know about this spaceship that's flyingaround--" * * * * * His words brought an exclamation from the others. Howells sighed, andsaid: "Mr. Bridges, you don't make it easy for us. It's our opinion thatsecrecy is essential, that leakage of the story might cause panic. Sinceyou're the only unauthorized person who knows of it, we have twochoices. One of them is to lock you up. " Jerry swallowed hard. "The other is perhaps more practical, " Howells said. "You'll be takeninto our confidence, and allowed to accompany those officials who willbe admitted to the landing site. But you will _not_ be allowed to relaythe story to the press until such a time as _all_ correspondents areinformed. That won't give you a 'scoop' if that's what you call it, butyou'll be an eyewitness. That should be worth something. " "It's worth a lot, " Jerry said eagerly. "Thanks, Mr. Howells. " "Don't thank me, I'm not doing you any _personal_ favor. Now about thelanding tonight--" "You mean the spaceship's coming down?" "Yes. A special foreign ministers conference was held this morning, anda decision was reached to accept the delegate. Landing instructions arebeing given at Los Alamos, and the ship will presumably land aroundmidnight tonight. There will be a jet leaving Washington Airport atnine, and you'll be on it. Meanwhile, consider yourself in custody. " * * * * * The USAF jet transport wasn't the only secrecy-shrouded aircraft thattook off that evening from Washington Airport. But Jerry Bridges, sitting in the rear seat flanked by two Sphinx-like Secret Service men, knew that he was the only passenger with non-official status aboard. It was only a few minutes past ten when they arrived at the air base atLos Alamos. The desert sky was cloudy and starless, and powerfulsearchlights probed the thick cumulus. There were sleek, purring blackautos waiting to rush the air passengers to some unnamed destination. They drove for twenty minutes across a flat ribbon of desert road, untilJerry sighted what appeared to be a circle of newly-erected lights inthe middle of nowhere. On the perimeter, official vehicles were parkedin orderly rows, and four USAF trailer trucks were in evidence, theirradarscopes turning slowly. There was activity everywhere, but it waswell-ordered and unhurried. They had done a good job of keeping theexcitement contained. He was allowed to leave the car and stroll unescorted. He tried to talkto some of the scurrying officials, but to no avail. Finally, hecontented himself by sitting on the sand, his back against the grill ofa staff car, smoking one cigarette after another. As the minutes ticked off, the activity became more frenetic around him. Then the pace slowed, and he knew the appointed moment was approaching. Stillness returned to the desert, and tension was a tangible substancein the night air. The radarscopes spun slowly. The searchlights converged in an intricate pattern. Then the clouds seemed to part! "Here she comes!" a voice shouted. And in a moment, the calm wasshattered. At first, he saw nothing. A faint roar was started in theheavens, and it became a growl that increased in volume until even theshouting voices could no longer be heard. Then the crisscrossing lightsstruck metal, glancing off the gleaming body of a descending object. Larger and larger the object grew, until it assumed the definable shapeof a squat silver funnel, falling in a perfect straight line towards thecenter of the light-ringed area. When it hit, a dust cloud obscured itfrom sight. * * * * * A loudspeaker blared out an unintelligible order, but its message wasclear. No one moved from their position. Finally, a three-man team, asbestos-clad, lead-shielded, stepped outfrom the ring of spectators. They carried geiger counters on long polesbefore them. Jerry held his breath as they approached the object; only when theywere yards away did he appreciate its size. It wasn't large; not morethan fifteen feet in total circumference. One of the three men waved a gloved hand. "It's okay, " a voice breathed behind him. "No radiation . .. " Slowly, the ring of spectators closed tighter. They were twenty yardsfrom the ship when the voice spoke to them. "Greetings from Venus, " it said, and then repeated the phrase in sixlanguages. "The ship you see is a Venusian Class 7 interplanetaryrocket, built for one-passenger. It is clear of all radiation, and isperfectly safe to approach. There is a hatch which may be opened by anautomatic lever in the side. Please open this hatch and remove thepassenger. " An Air Force General whom Jerry couldn't identify stepped forward. Hecircled the ship warily, and then said something to the others. Theycame closer, and he touched a small lever on the silvery surface of thefunnel. A door slid open. "It's a box!" someone said. "A crate--" "Colligan! Moore! Schaffer! Lend a hand here--" A trio came forward and hoisted the crate out of the ship. Then thevoice spoke again; Jerry deduced that it must have been activated by thedecreased load of the ship. "Please open the crate. You will find our delegate within. We trust youwill treat him with the courtesy of an official emissary. " They set to work on the crate, its gray plastic material giving inreadily to the application of their tools. But when it was opened, theystood aside in amazement and consternation. There were a variety of metal pieces packed within, protected by a filmypacking material. "Wait a minute, " the general said. "Here's a book--" He picked up a gray-bound volume, and opened its cover. "'Instructions for assembling Delegate, '" he read aloud. "'First, removeall parts and arrange them in the following order. A-1, central nervoussystem housing. A-2 . .. '" He looked up. "It's an instruction book, " hewhispered. "We're supposed to _build_ the damn thing. " * * * * * The Delegate, a handsomely constructed robot almost eight feet tall, waspieced together some three hours later, by a team of scientists andengineers who seemed to find the Venusian instructions as elementary asa blueprint in an Erector set. But simple as the job was, they wereobviously impressed by the mechanism they had assembled. It stoodimpassive until they obeyed the final instruction. "Press Button K . .. " They found button K, and pressed it. The robot bowed. "Thank you, gentlemen, " it said, in sweet, unmetallic accents. "Now ifyou will please escort me to the meeting place . .. " * * * * * It wasn't until three days after the landing that Jerry Bridges saw theDelegate again. Along with a dozen assorted government officials, Armyofficers, and scientists, he was quartered in a quonset hut in Fort Dix, New Jersey. Then, after seventy-two frustrating hours, he was escortedby Marine guard into New York City. No one told him his destination, andit wasn't until he saw the bright strips of light across the face of theUnited Nations building that he knew where the meeting was to be held. But his greatest surprise was yet to come. The vast auditorium whichhoused the general assembly was filled to its capacity, but there werenew faces behind the plaques which designated the member nations. Hecouldn't believe his eyes at first, but as the meeting got under way, heknew that it was true. The highest echelons of the world's governmentswere represented, even--Jerry gulped at the realization--NikitaKhrushchev himself. It was a summit meeting such as he had never dreamedpossible, a summit meeting without benefit of long foreign minister'sdebate. And the cause of it all, a placid, highly-polished metal robot, was seated blithely at a desk which bore the designation: VENUS. The robot delegate stood up. "Gentlemen, " it said into the microphone, and the great men at thecouncil tables strained to hear the translator's version through theirheadphones, "Gentlemen, I thank you for your prompt attention. I come asa Delegate from a great neighbor planet, in the interests of peace andprogress for all the solar system. I come in the belief that peace isthe responsibility of individuals, of nations, and now of worlds, andthat each is dependent upon the other. I speak to you now through theelectronic instrumentation which has been created for me, and I come tooffer your planet not merely a threat, a promise, or an easysolution--but a challenge. " The council room stirred. "Your earth satellites have been viewed with interest by the astronomersof our world, and we foresee the day when contact between our planetswill be commonplace. As for ourselves, we have hitherto had littledesire to explore beyond our realm, being far too occupied with internalmatters. But our isolation cannot last in the face of your progress, sowe believe that we must take part in your affairs. "Here, then, is our challenge. Continue your struggle of ideas, competewith each other for the minds of men, fight your bloodless battles, ifyou know no other means to attain progress. But do all this _without_unleashing the terrible forces of power now at your command. Onceunleashed, these forces may or may not destroy all that you have gained. But we, the scientists of Venus, promise you this--that on the very dayyour conflict deteriorates into heedless violence, we will not stand byand let the ugly contagion spread. On that day, we of Venus will actswiftly, mercilessly, and relentlessly--to destroy your worldcompletely. " Again, the meeting room exploded in a babble of languages. "The vessel which brought me here came as a messenger of peace. Butenvision it, men of Earth, as a messenger of war. Unstoppable, inexorable, it may return, bearing a different Delegate from Venus--aDelegate of Death, who speaks not in words, but in the explosion ofatoms. Think of thousands of such Delegates, fired from a vantage pointfar beyond the reach of your retaliation. This is the promise and thechallenge that will hang in your night sky from this moment forward. Look at the planet Venus, men of Earth, and see a Goddess of Vengeance, poised to wreak its wrath upon those who betray the peace. " The Delegate sat down. * * * * * Four days later, a mysterious explosion rocked the quiet sands of LosAlamos, and the Venus spacecraft was no more. Two hours after that, therobot delegate, its message delivered, its mission fulfilled, requestedto be locked inside a bombproof chamber. When the door was opened, theDelegate was an exploded ruin. The news flashed with lightning speed over the world, and Jerry Bridges'eyewitness accounts of the incredible event was syndicated throughoutthe nation. But his sudden celebrity left him vaguely unsatisfied. He tried to explain his feeling to Greta on his first night back inWashington. They were in his apartment, and it was the first time Gretahad consented to pay him the visit. "Well, what's _bothering_ you?" Greta pouted. "You've had the biggeststory of the year under your byline. I should think you'd be tickledpink. " "It's not that, " Jerry said moodily. "But ever since I heard theDelegate speak, something's been nagging me. " "But don't you think he's done good? Don't you think they'll beimpressed by what he said?" "I'm not worried about that. I think that damn robot did more forpeace than anything that's ever come along in this cockeyed world. Butstill . .. " Greta snuggled up to him on the sofa. "You worry too much. Don't youever think of anything else? You should learn to relax. It can be fun. " She started to prove it to him, and Jerry responded the way a normal, healthy male usually does. But in the middle of an embrace, he criedout: "Wait a minute!" "What's the matter?" "I just thought of something! Now where the hell did I put my oldnotebooks?" He got up from the sofa and went scurrying to a closet. From a debris ofcardboard boxes, he found a worn old leather brief case, and cackledwith delight when he found the yellowed notebooks inside. "What _are_ they?" Greta said. "My old school notebooks. Greta, you'll have to excuse me. But there'ssomething I've got to do, right away!" "That's all right with me, " Greta said haughtily. "I know when I'm notwanted. " She took her hat and coat from the hall closet, gave him one last chanceto change his mind, and then left. Five minutes later, Jerry Bridges was calling the airlines. * * * * * It had been eleven years since Jerry had walked across the campus ofClifton University, heading for the ivy-choked main building. It wasremarkable how little had changed, but the students seemed incrediblyyoung. He was winded by the time he asked the pretty girl at the deskwhere Professor Martin Coltz could be located. "Professor Coltz?" She stuck a pencil to her mouth. "Well, I guess he'dbe in the Holland Laboratory about now. " "Holland Laboratory? What's that?" "Oh, I guess that was after your time, wasn't it?" Jerry felt decrepit, but managed to say: "It must be something new sinceI was here. Where is this place?" He followed her directions, and located a fresh-painted building threehundred yards from the men's dorm. He met a student at the door, whotold him that Professor Coltz would be found in the physics department. The room was empty when Jerry entered, except for the single stoopedfigure vigorously erasing a blackboard. He turned when the door opened. If the students looked younger, Professor Coltz was far older than Jerryremembered. He was a tall man, with an unruly confusion of straight grayhair. He blinked when Jerry said: "Hello, Professor. Do you remember me? Jerry Bridges?" "Of course! I thought of you only yesterday, when I saw your name in thepapers--" They sat at facing student desks, and chatted about old times. But Jerrywas impatient to get to the point of his visit, and he blurted out: "Professor Coltz, something's been bothering me. It bothered me from themoment I heard the Delegate speak. I didn't know what it was until lastnight, when I dug out my old college notebooks. Thank God I kept them. " Coltz's eyes were suddenly hooded. "What do you mean, Jerry?" "There was something about the Robot's speech that sounded familiar--Icould have sworn I'd heard some of the words before. I couldn't proveanything until I checked my old notes, and here's what I found. " He dug into his coat pocket and produced a sheet of paper. He unfoldedit and read aloud. "'It's my belief that peace is the responsibility of individuals, ofnations, and someday, even of worlds . .. ' Sound familiar, Professor?" Coltz shifted uncomfortably. "I don't recall every silly thing I said, Jerry. " "But it's an interesting coincidence, isn't it, Professor? These verywords were spoken by the Delegate from Venus. " "A coincidence--" "Is it? But I also remember your interest in robotics. I'll never forgetthat mechanical homing pigeon you constructed. And you've probablylearned much more these past eleven years. " "What are you driving at, Jerry?" "Just this, Professor. I had a little daydream, recently, and I want youto hear it. I dreamed about a group of teachers, scientists, andengineers, a group who were suddenly struck by an exciting, incredibleidea. A group that worked in the quiet and secrecy of a University on afantastic scheme to force the idea of peace into the minds of theworld's big shots. Does my dream interest you, Professor?" "Go on. " "Well, I dreamt that this group would secretly launch an earth satelliteof their own, and arrange for the nose cone to come down safely at acertain time and place. They would install a marvelous electronic robotwithin the cone, ready to be assembled. They would beam a radio messageto earth from the cone, seemingly as if it originated from their'spaceship. ' Then, when the Robot was assembled, they would speakthrough it to demand peace for all mankind . .. " "Jerry, if you do this--" "You don't have to say it, Professor, I know what you're thinking. I'ma reporter, and my business is to tell the world everything I know. Butif I did it, there might not be a world for me to write about, wouldthere? No, thanks, Professor. As far as I'm concerned, what I told youwas nothing more than a daydream. " * * * * * Jerry braked the convertible to a halt, and put his arm around Greta'sshoulder. She looked up at the star-filled night, and sighedromantically. Jerry pointed. "That one. " Greta shivered closer to him. "And to think what that terrible planet can do to us!" "Oh, I dunno. Venus is also the Goddess of Love. " He swung his other arm around her, and Venus winked approvingly. THE END Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ October 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.