Frederik Pohl - O Pioneer!

Mrs. Brownbenttalon was solicitous. “You like? This good stuff. Don’t serve at party, guests get too rotten drunk, make fights, especially stinky Slugs.”

“Also Earth-human Large Male Hagbarth,” Mrs. White-nose put in.

“Oh, yes, bad guy, Hagbarth. When he here he awful, you know? He act like he think he hot waste product. Very contemptuous of races wiser far than, excuse me, Earth humans. We do not do that way. Our practice is always judging individuals, not races, even stinky Kalkaboos,” she said grandly. “You okay Earth human, Large Male Giyt. We think.”

“Well, thank you,” Giyt said, looking around. More Centaurians were showing up as their chores were finished, lesser males and subadults, silently congregating at a respectful distance around the matriarchs to listen.

“You are welcomed. Well, what about party? Have good time? You like food?” When both the Giyts expressed admiration for the food, she bobbed her long nose in agreement. “Always good have plenty fine food. When Pentagon is full, bellies fill themselves.”

“Pentagon?”

“Sure, Pentagon. That what you Earth humans call building with five sides,” she instructed him. “Is place where us five Divinely Elected Saviors on Joint Governance Commission congregated before large-male Earth humans arrived. Much debate about what do with you guys when you dumb little machine ship arrive, you bet!” she said, cackling. All the males and children cackled too; only Mrs. Whitenose, seemingly lost in a dreamy reverie, was silent. “Then decided purpose of peace-treaty planet was to learn peace, right? Needed for survival of rest of us? Probably needed for survival with you large-male persons, too, so voted in, no dissent.”

The male on her back giggled and squealed, “ Much dissent, actually.” But Mrs. Brownbenttalon reached up with her hind leg and swatted him amiably.

“Not dissent,” she corrected. “Discussion, of course. For many days—Slugs objected at first, too many vertebrates—but finally unanimous. So sent you guys portal thing so you come here.”

Giyt frowned in surprise. “You sent the portal?”

“Of course sent portal. What else?”

“But . . . Professor Sommermen . . .”

“Ah,” she said, her snout wrinkling in comprehension. “That large-male Earth-human guy—what he just do, Mrs. Whitenose?”

Addressed, her daughter roused from her fond daydream. “He die.”

“Sure, he die. Remember myth now. Like Santa Claus, you know? Like myth of non-Earth-people persons coming to Earth planet in crockery dishes, abducting Earth humans for sexual games.”

“Yuck,” said Mrs. Whitenose.

“Yes, typical Earth-human myth,” her mother said. “Bizarre but very sweet. You didn’t know?”

Giyt glanced at his wife to see how she was taking all this. Better than he was, he thought. She looked interested and amused. Doing his best to control himself, he said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Didn’t Dr. Sommermen invent the portal?”

“Him? Large-male Earth human? Invent portal?” She was giggling at the idea, and so were her husband and daughter. “No way! Take damn good wizardly science knowledge for building portal, you don’t have. Can’t get, either,” she added complacently, “because portal constructed so you guys can’t open up, else biggest damn bang ever. Of course, now all are most glad your people are here,” she added hospitably. “Most your people, anyway.”

“Not counting Large Male Hagbarth, we mean,” Mrs. Whitenose put in.

Giyt didn’t know what sort of expression his own face was displaying until he saw the way Rina was looking at him. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, hon,” she said.

It was certainly good advice. The trouble with taking it was that he was indeed hard hit. Giyt did not think of himself as a naive person. He was not startled to learn that people in power told lies.

But this lie? What was the point of it? Only out of some kind of Earthie vanity, some refusal to admit to the rest of the human race that somebody was smarter than they?

Mrs. Brownbenttalon was still talking. “You come to all-six-race confabulation talk in Hexagon when it begin,” she advised. “When people from all home planets meet here, you know? Good thing. You learn much. Also big pain, because they scoot us mayoring persons all the hell out of said place, but this cannot be helped. No Joint Governance Commission meeting possible then because place full of peace treaty people. You know Treaty of Perpetual Peace document yourself?”

“I’m afraid not,” Giyt admitted. “There’s been so much I had to catch up on.”

“You do such! Most important. Peace treaty is reason Peace Planet exists. Very tedious document, sure, but very important. Is in database and very valuable for survival. With treaty now, persons, husbands, and young on home planets live in security, no more wars.”

“Old times of war horrible ,” Mrs. Whitenose squeaked. “Much destruction, cities in ruin.”

“But long, long ago, even before us great ancestors born. And all repaired now,” said Mrs. Brownbenttalon. “Home planet completely restored to state of great beauty and prospering, not counting radioactive waste areas.”

“It must be a wonderful place,” Rina said politely. “I’d love to see it.”

“Never happen,” Mrs. Whitenose said positively, and her mother gave her a reprimanding look.

“What Mrs. Whitenose mean,” she said, “is of course humans don’t come to Centauri planet, Centaurians don’t come to human Earth planet, not ever. Meet only here. Much better that way.”

“Had experience of other races visiting our planet,” Miss Whitenose said, shaking her pointy nose. “Other races come first in dumb little fire-squirting rocket ship thing. I am talking Slug here, you understand? Long, long, long ago. At first all friendliness, talk trade, talk friendship, talk all kinds animal excrement stuff but don’t mean; come next time in battle fleets, you know? Bang-bang-bang bombing, shooting, killing. Very much killing in which many, many persons die, also males. No good. Know better now. You stay your place, we stay our place, everybody happy.”

“And no shooting,” added Mr. Brownbenttalon.

The morning after the Centaurian party Giyt took Mrs. Brownbenttalon’s advice. As the translated text of the treaty scrolled through his screen he whistled to himself. “No weapons of any kind” obviously meant no weapons at all. What had Hagbarth been thinking of with his nonsensical application to bring in guns? And for that matter, why hadn’t Hagbarth warned him about Kalkaboo customs? Or that his proposal for jointly exploiting Tupelo’s resources with the eeties would be laughed down?