pired victorious armies in the
African war.

"Commander Aku was just here, sir. He demands that the children be
ready for evacuation next Thursday. I told him that it would be damned
difficult."

The face on the screen paled perceptibly. "I hope you didn't anger the
commander!"

Rothwell ground his teeth. "I told him we'd deliver the goods on
Thursday."

Presidential lips tightened. "I don't care for the way you said that,
General."

Rothwell straightened. "I apologize, sir. It's just that this whole
lousy setup has me worried silly. I don't like Aku making like a
guardian angel and us having no choice but to dance to his harp." His
fingers clenched. "God knows we need his help, and I guess its wrong to
ask too many questions, but how come he's only landed one of his ships,
and why is it that he and his lieutenant are the only aliens to leave
that ship--the only aliens we've ever even seen? It just doesn't figure
out!" There, he thought, I've said it.

The President looked at him quietly for a minute, then answered softly,
"I know, Jim, but what else can we do?" Rothwell winced at the shake in
the old man's voice.

"I don't know," he said. "But Aku's got us in a hell of a spot."

"Uh, Jim. You haven't said this in public, have you?"

Rothwell snorted. "No, _sir_, I don't care for a panic."

"There, there, Jim." The President smiled weakly. "We can't expect the
aliens to act like we do, can we?" He began to adopt the preacher tone
he used so effectively in his campaign speeches. "We must be thankful
for the chance breeze that wafted Commander Aku to these shores, and for
his help. Maybe the war fleet won't arrive after all and everything will
turn out all right. You're doing a fine job, Jim." The screen went
blank.

* * * * *

Rothwell felt sick. He felt sorry for the President, but sorrier for the
Western Democratic Union, to be captained by such a feeble thing.
Leaning back in his chair, he glared at the empty screen. "You can't
solve problems by wishing them away. You knew that once."

His mind wandered, and for a minute he thought he could actually feel
the growing pressure of three billion people waiting for the computers
of Moscow Central to make their impartial choice from the world's
children. Trained mathematicians, the best that could be mustered from
every major country, monitored each phase of the project to insure its
absolute honesty. One hundred thousand chi