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have to
use the CALL feature, which would have required Fred’s acknowledgement before
the Watcher could speak to him.  Which meant a Board chair or a Tribunal
member.  Which meant that Fred would create an interplanetary incident if he ignored
it.
    “Give me a
moment to finish what I was doing,” Fred said, still desperately trying to make
sense of the disturbing numbers on his screen.  He needed to send a courier to
Earth immediately.  Get some sort of explanation.  And, for the love of God, convince
them to cease and desist.  This was the sort of crap that got planets pummeled
back into their Stone Age for hundreds of turns, to give them a chance to serve
penance.
    The Watcher’s
irritation was palpable, but it said nothing more.  Instead, it merely hovered
somewhere in the alien circuitry at the edges of his room, watching.
    His nervousness
increasing, Fred continued flipping through the files he had been examining. 
He really didn’t like what he was seeing.  Back home, military and
scientific expenditures had quadrupled in the last three turns. 
    It almost looked
as if Earth was preparing for a war.
    He needed to
deal with this, and fast.  Before the other species’ Representatives were given
the same numbers he was reading.  If they got wind of them, the insignificant
planet Earth and its single sentient species would be obliterated.  Like a
Dhasha ripping apart a vaghi.
    “This is
important, Mullich,” the Watcher interrupted.
    “The Regency can
go on without me,” Fred snapped.  “The attendance of any one Representative is
not required for a session to progress.”
    “It is not in
your best interest to deny this call to attendance, Representative,” the
Watcher replied.
    “I’m not denying
it, you inbred mass of circuitry,” Fred said.  “I said give me a moment .”
    He could almost
feel the Watcher giving him a flat look through the sensors.  “For someone
who depends upon my cooperation and perfection for every single
transportational transaction on this planet, you have a…unique…view of my
capabilities, Representative.”
    Fred ignored
him.  As with any newly-drafted planet, Earth was at the very bottom rung of
the political hierarchy.  With only one planet and only nine billion people,
Earth had no clout compared to the founding member species like the Ooreiki,
the Jahul, and the Huouyt, each of which had trillions of citizens and
thousands of planets.  As long as Earth paid its tithes and supplied bodies for
the Draft, nobody cared.
    But this…  He
bit his lip, looking at the screen.  This was different.  This was suicide . 
The jenfurglings back home couldn’t possibly think to start a war.
    Yet, remembering
the numbers, Fred had the gut-sinking feeling that they could.  Because they
didn’t understand .  They didn’t realize what they were up against.  They
hadn’t seen the armadas, hadn’t been invited to the military expositions,
hadn’t watched the weapons demonstrations, hadn’t toured the carriers.  They
hadn’t seen the Dhasha .
    Realizing that
his anxiety was making him sweat, Fred retrieved a tissue from the dispenser on
his desk and dabbed at his forehead.  He hated sweating.  Hair and sweating
were both signs of a lower evolutionary life-form, one that could not
consciously regulate its own body temperature.  And Fred was hairy.  And he
sweated.  A lot.  He shaved religiously, keeping himself bald except for his
eyebrows, but every time he started sweating in the Regency, it felt like every
alien eye was upon him, judging him.  Which only made him sweat worse.
    Damn his short,
hairy, slick-skinned furg of a grandfather.  Oftentimes, Fred heard it
whispered behind his back that Humans were certifiably the closest relatives to
the furry, stupid little ape-like creatures that loved to pound their stunted
faces against rocks and eat their own excrement.  It was whispered that, based
on that evidence alone, Humankind barely qualified for