Off Course by Mack Reynolds

Shore and Bagora.

It was a great day for the Earth. The first envoy from another world was about to speak. That is, if he could forget that horse for a minute.

First on the scene were Larry Dermott and Tim Casey of the State Highway Patrol. They assumed they were witnessing the crash of a new type of Air Force plane and slipped and skidded desperately across the field to within thirty feet of the strange craft, only to discover that the landing had been made without accident. Patrolman Dermott shook his head.

"They're getting queer-looking every year. Get a load of it. No wheels, no propeller, no cockpit."

They left the car and made their way toward the strange, egg-shaped vessel.

Tim Casey loosened his .38 in his holster and said, "Sure.

I'm beginning to wonder if it's one of ours."

"No insignia and—" A circular door slid open at that point, and Damry Tass stepped out, yawning. He spotted them, smiled, and said, "Glork."

They gaped at him.

"Glork is right," Dermott swallowed. Tim Casey closed his mouth with an effort.

"Do you mind the color of his face?" he blurted.

"How could I help it?"

Damry Tass rubbed a blue-nailed, pink hand down his purplish countenance and yawned again.

"Gorramatigan, horpseratium," he said.

Patrolman Dermott and Patrolman Casey shot stares at each other.

"'Tis double-talk he's after givin' us," Casey said.

Damry Tass frowned.

"Hamara?" he asked.

Larry Dermott pushed his cap to the back of his head.

"That doesn't sound like any language I've even heard about."

Damry Tass grimaced, turned and re-entered his spacecraft to emerge in half a minute with his hands full of contraptions. He held a box-like arrangement under his left arm. In his right hand were two metal caps connected to the box by wires. While the patrolmen watched him, he set the box on the ground, twirled two dials and put one of the caps on his head. He offered the other to Larry Dermott. His desire was obvious.

Trained to grasp a situation and immediately respond in a manner best suited to protect the welfare of the people of New York State, Dermott cleared his throat and said, "Tim, take over while I report."

"Hey," Casey protested, but his fellow minion had left.

"Mandia," Damry Tass told Casey, holding out the metal cap.

"Faith, and do I look balmy?" Casey told him. "I wouldn't be putting that dingus on my head for all the coalings in Ireland."

"Mandia," the stranger said impatiently.

"Be jazus," Casey snorted. "You can't."

Dermott called from the car.

"Tim, the captain says to humor this guy. We're going to keep him here until the officials arrive. Tim Casey closed his eyes and groaned.

"Humor him," he's after saying. "Orders it is," he shouted back. "Sure, and did you tell him he's in technicolor?" "Bagora, he looks like a man from Mars."

"That's what they think," Larry yelled, "and the governor's on his way. We're to do everything possible, short of violence, to keep this character here. Humor him, Tim."

"Mandia," Damry Tass snapped, pushing the cap into Casey's reluctant hands.

Muttering his protests, Casey lifted it gingerly and placed it on his head.

Not feeling any immediate effect, he said.

"There, to satisfied ye are now, I'm supposin'."

The alien stooped down and flicked a switch on the little box. It hummed gently. Tim Casey suddenly shrieked and sat down on the stubble and grass of the field.

"Bagora," he yelped. "I've been mothered."

He tore the cap from his head. His companion came running.

"What's the matter, Tim?" he shouted.

Damry Tass removed the metal cap from his own head.

"Sure, and nothin' is after bein' the matter with him," he said. "Evidently the boy's never been a-wearin' of a current helmet afore. Twill hurt him not at all."

"You can talk," Dermot blurted, skidding to a stop.

Damry Tass shrugged.

"Faith, and why not? As I was after sayin', I shared the current helmet with Tim Casey."

Patrolman Dermot glared at him unbelievingly.

"You learned the language just by sticking that Rube Goldberg deal on Tim's head?"

"Sure, and why not?" Dermot muttered. "And with it he has to pick up the corniest brogue west of Dublin."

Tim Casey got to his feet indignantly.

"I'm after resentin' that, Larry Dermot. Sure, and the way we talk in Ireland is..."

Damry Tass interrupted, pointing to a bedraggled horse that made its way to within fifty feet of the vessel.

"Now what could that be after bein'?"

The patrolmen followed his stare.

"It's a horse. What else?"

"A horse?"

Larry Dermot looked again just to make sure.

"Yeah, not much of a horse, but a horse."

Damry Tass sighed ecstatically.

"And just what is a horse, if I may be so bold as to be askin'?"

"It's an animal you ride on."

The alien tore his gaze from the animal to look his disbelief at the other.

"Are you after meanin' that you climb upon the creature's back and ride him? Faith, now, quit your blarney." He looked at the horse again, then down at his equipment.

"Begora," he muttered. "I'll share the current helmet with the creature."

"Hey, hold it," Dermot said anxiously. He was beginning to feel like a character in a shaggy dog story. Interest in the horse was ended with the sudden arrival of a helicopter. It swooped down on the field and settled within twenty feet of the alien craft. Almost before it had touched, the door was flung open and the flying windmill disgorged two bestarred and efficient-looking army officers. Casey and Dermot snapped them a salute. The senior general didn't take his eyes from the alien and the spacecraft as he spoke, and they bugged quite as effectively as they had those of the patrolmen when they'd first arrived on the scene.

"I'm Major General Browning," he rapped. "I want a police cordon thrown up around this, sir, vessel. No newsmen, no sightseers, nobody without my permission. As soon as army personnel arrives, we'll take over completely."

"Yes, sir," Larry Dermot said. "I've got a report on the radio that the governor's on his way, sir. How about him?"

The general muttered something under his breath.

"Then, when the governor arrives, let me know. Otherwise, nobody gets through."

Demery Tass said, "Faith and what goes on?"

The general's eyes bugged still further.

"He talks," he accused.

"Yes, sir," Dermot said. "He had some kind of machine. He put it over Tim's head and seconds later he could talk."

"Nonsense," the general snapped. Further discussion was interrupted by the screaming arrival of several motorcycle patrolmen, followed by three heavily laden patrol cars. Overhead, pursuit planes zoomed in and began darting about nervously above the field.

"Sure, and it's quite a reception I'm after gettin'," Demery Tass said. He yawned. "But what I'm a-wantin' is a chance to get some sleep. Faith, and I've been awake for almost a decal."

Demery Tass was hurried, via helicopter, to Washington, where he disappeared for several days, being held incommunicado while the White House, Pentagon, State Department, and Congress tried to figure out just what to do with him. Never in the history of the planet had such a furor arisen. Thus far, no newsmen had been allowed within speaking distance. Administration higher-ups were being subjected to a volcano of editorial heat, but the longer the space alien was discussed, the more they viewed with alarm the situation his arrival had precipitated. There were angles that hadn't at first been evident. Obviously, he was from some civilization far beyond that of Earth's. That was the rub. No matter what he said, it would shake governments, possibly overthrow social systems, perhaps even destroy established religious concepts. But they couldn't keep him under wraps indefinitely. It was the United Nations that cracked the iron curtain. Their demands that the alien be heard before their body was too strong and had too much public opinion behind them to be ignored. The White House yielded, and the date was set for the visitor to speak before the Assembly. Excitement, anticipation blanketed the world. Shepherds in Sinkang, multimillionaires in Switzerland, fakirs in Pakistan, gauchos in Argentina were raised to a zenith of expectation. Panhandlers debated the message to come with pedestrians. Geneticists argued it with their passengers. Miners discussed it deep beneath the surface. Pilots argued with their co-pilots thousands of feet above. It was the most universally awaited event of the ages. By the time the delegates from every nation, tribe, religion, class, color, and race had gathered in New York to receive the message from the stars, the majority of Earth had decided that Demery Tass was the plenipotentiary of a super-civilization which had been viewing developments on this planet with misgivings. It was thought this other civilization had advanced greatly beyond Earth's, and that the problems besetting us, social, economic, scientific, had been solved by the super-civilization. Obviously, then, Demery Tass had come, an advisor from a benevolent and friendly people, to guide the world aright. And nine-tenths of the population of Earth stood ready and willing to be guided. The other tenth liked things as they were, and were quite convinced that the Space Envoy would upset their apple-carts.

William R. Anderson, Secretary-General of the U.N., was to introduce the Space Emissary.

"Can you give me an idea at all of what he's like?" he asked nervously. President McCord was as upset as the Dane. He shrugged in agitation.

"I know almost as little as you do." Sir Alfred Oxford protested. "But, my dear chap, you've had him for almost two weeks, certainly in that time."

The President snapped back.

"You probably won't believe this, but he's been asleep until yesterday. When he first arrived, he told us he hadn't slept for a deckle, whatever that is. So we held off our discussion with him until morning. Well, he didn't wake in the morning, nor the next. Six days later, fearing something was wrong, we woke him."

"What happened?" Sir Alfred asked.

The President showed embarrassment.

"He used some rather ripe Irish profanity on us, rolled over, and went back to sleep."

Viljo Mar Anderson asked, "Well, what happened yesterday?"

"We actually haven't had time to question him. Among other things, there's been some controversy about whose jurisdiction he comes under. The State Department claims the Army shouldn't."

The Secretary-General sighed deeply.

"Just what did he do?"

"The Secret Service reports he spent the day whistling 'Mother McCree' and playing with his dog, cat, and mouse."

"Dog, cat, and mouse? I say," blurted Sir Alfred.

The President was defensive.

"He had to have some occupation, and he seems to be particularly interested in our animal life."

"He wanted a horse, but compromised for the others. I understand he insists all three of them come with him wherever he goes."

"I wish we knew what he was going to say," Anderson worried.

"Here he comes," said Sir Alfred.

Surrounded by FBI men, Demery Tass was ushered to the speaker stand. He had a kitten in his arms. A Scottie followed him. The alien frowned worriedly.

"Sure," he said. "And what can all this be? Is some ordinance I've been after breaking?"

McCord, Sir Alfred, and Anderson hastened to reassure him and made him comfortable in a chair. Viljo Mar Anderson faced the thousands in the audience and held up his hands, but it was ten minutes before he was able to quiet the cheering, stamping delegates from all Earth.

"Finally, fellow Terrans, I shall not take your time for a lengthy introduction of the Envoy from the Stars. I will only say that, without doubt, this is the most important moment in the history of the human race. We will now hear from the first being to come to Earth from another world." He turned and gestured to Demery Tass, who hadn't been paying over much attention to the chairman in view of some dog and cat hostilities that had been developing about his feet. But now the alien's purplish face faded into a light blue. He stood and said hoarsely.

"Faith, and what was that last you said?"

Viljo Mar Anderson repeated.

"We will now hear from the first being ever to come to Earth from another world."

The face of the alien went lighter blue.

"Sure, and you wouldn't just be a-frightenin' a body, would you? You don't claim to tell me this planet isn't after being a member of the Galactic League?"

Anderson's face was blank.

"Galactic League?"

"Kushla Makri," Demery Tass moaned. "I've gone and put me foot in it again. I'll be after getting cared for this."

Sir Alfred was on his feet.

"I don't understand. Do you mean you aren't an envoy from another planet?"

Demery Tass held his head in his hands and groaned.

"An envoy," he's saying. "And meself only a second-rate collector of specimens for the Carthus Zoo." He straightened and started off the speaker stand.

"Sure, and I must blast off immediately."

Things were moving fast for President McCord, but already an edge of relief was manifesting itself.

Taking the initiative, he said, "Of course, of course, if that is your desire." He signaled to the bodyguard who had accompanied the alien to the assemblage. A dull roar was beginning to emanate from the thousands gathered in the tremendous hall, murmuring, questioning, disbelieving. Viljo Mar Anderson felt that he must say something. He extended a detaining hand.

"Now you are here," he said urgently, "even though by mistake. Before you go, can't you give us some brief word? Our world is in chaos. Many of us have lost faith. Perhaps—" Demery Tass shook off the restraining hand.

"Do I look daft? Begora, I should have known something was queer. All your weapons and your strange ideas. Faith, I wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't yet established a planet-wide government. Sure, and I'll go still further. You probably have wars on this benighted world. No wonder it is you haven't been invited to join the Galactic League and take your place among the civilized planets." He hustled from the rostrum and made his way, still surrounded by guards, to the door by which he had entered. The dog and the cat trotted after, undismayed by the furor about them. They arrived about four hours later at the field on which he had landed, and the alien from space hurried toward his craft, still muttering. He had been accompanied by a general and by the president, but all the way he had refrained from speaking. He scurried from the car and toward the spacecraft.

President McCord said, "You've forgotten your pets. We would be glad if you would accept them as..."

The alien's face faded a light blue again.

"Faith, and I'd almost forgotten," he said, "if I'd take a creature from this quarantined planet, my name'd be Nork." "Keep your dog and your kitty." He shook his head sadly and extracted a mouse from a pocket. "And this amazing little creature as well." They followed him to the spacecraft. Just before entering he spotted the bedraggled horse that had been present on his landing. A longing expression came over his highly colored face.

"Just one thing," he said. "Faith, now, were they pulling my leg when they said you were after riding on the back of those things?"

The president looked at the woe-begone nag.

"It's a horse," he said, surprised. "Man has been riding them for centuries."

Demery Tass shook his head.

"Sure, and 't would have been my making if I could have taken one back to Carthus." He entered his vessel. The others drew back, out of range of the expected blast, and watched, each with his own thoughts, as the first visitor from space hurriedly left Earth.