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“You’ll be leaving within an hour for Saarkkad V.”

Nordon nodded again. “Yes, sir; certainly. Am I to go alone?”

“No,” said Malloy, “I’m sending an assistant with you–a man named Kylen Braynek. Ever heard of him?”

Nordon shook his head. “Not that I recall, Mr. Malloy. Should I have?”

“Not necessarily. He’s a pretty shrewd operator, though. He knows a lot about interstellar law, and he’s capable of spotting a trap a mile away. You’ll be in charge, of course, but I want you to pay special attention to his advice.”

“I will, sir,” Nordon said gratefully. “A man like that can be useful.”

“Right. Now, you go into the anteroom over there. I’ve prepared a summary of the situation, and you’ll have to study it and get it into your head before the ship leaves. That isn’t much time, but it’s the Karna who are doing the pushing, not us.”

As soon as Nordon had left, Malloy said softly: “Send in Braynek, Miss Drayson.”

Kylen Braynek was a smallish man with mouse-brown hair that lay flat against his skull, and hard, penetrating, dark eyes that were shadowed by heavy, protruding brows. Malloy asked him to sit down.

Again Malloy went through the explanation of the peace conference.

“Naturally, they’ll be trying to trick you every step of the way,” Malloy went on. “They’re shrewd and underhanded; we’ll simply have to be more shrewd and more underhanded. Nordon’s job is to sit quietly and evaluate the data; yours will be to find the loopholes they’re laying out for themselves and plug them. Don’t antagonize them, but don’t baby them, either. If you see anything underhanded going on, let Nordon know immediately.”

“They won’t get anything by me, Mr. Malloy.”

* * * * *

By the time the ship from Earth got there, the peace conference had been going on for four days. Bertrand Malloy had full reports on the whole parley, as relayed to him through the ship that had taken Nordon and Braynek to Saarkkad V.

Secretary of State Blendwell stopped off at Saarkkad IV before going on to V to take charge of the conference. He was a tallish, lean man with a few strands of gray hair on the top of his otherwise bald scalp, and he wore a hearty, professional smile that didn’t quite make it to his calculating eyes.

He took Malloy’s hand and shook it warmly. “How are you, Mr. Ambassador?”

“Fine, Mr. Secretary. How’s everything on Earth?”

“Tense. They’re waiting to see what is going to happen on Five. So am I, for that matter.” His eyes were curious. “You decided not to go yourself, eh?”

“I thought it better not to. I sent a good team, instead. Would you like to see the reports?”

“I certainly would.”

Malloy handed them to the secretary, and as he read, Malloy watched him. Blendwell was a political appointee–a good man, Malloy had to admit, but he didn’t know all the ins and outs of the Diplomatic Corps.

When Blendwell looked up from the reports at last, he said: “Amazing! They’ve held off the Karna at every point! They’ve beaten them back! They’ve managed to cope with and outdo the finest team of negotiators the Karna could send.”

“I thought they would,” said Malloy, trying to appear modest.

The secretary’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard of the work you’ve been doing here with … ah … sick men. Is this one of your … ah … successes?”

Malloy nodded. “I think so. The Karna put us in a dilemma, so I threw a dilemma right back at them.”

“How do you mean?”

“Nordon had a mental block against making decisions. If he took a girl out on a date, he’d have trouble making up his mind whether to kiss her or not until she made up his mind for him, one way or the other. He’s that kind of guy. Until he’s presented with one, single, clear decision which admits of no alternatives, he can’t move at all.