ly disarm
the site. Only inside the building itself."

"Any unpleasantness?"

"No, sir. Their men are well-disciplined."

"Then let's go and get started. I assume that you're in constant contact
with the capitol?"

"Yes, Sir. Televiewphone relay chain all the way up."

John looked around. The Peoplesfriend's helicopter was parked not far
away, and beyond it stood a platoon of the Peoplesfriend's troops,
lightly armed as his own.

An Asian and a Western guard flanked the entrance to the building, but
their only weapons were police-clubs. The party entered slowly and stood
for a moment just inside the heavy door that swung closed behind them.
John Smith removed his mask.

"Greetings, human."

* * * * *

The dull voice called it from the far end of the gloomy hall where Ivan
Ivanovitch IX sat facing him, flanked by a pair of aides, at a long,
plain table. John Smith XVI advanced with dignity toward him. Curt bows
were exchanged, but no handshakes. The Western delegation took their
seats.

John nudged the Stand-in on his right, who immediately opened a
portfolio to extract a sheaf of papers.

"Would you care to exchange prepared statements to begin with?" Smith
asked coolly.

"We have no--" The Peoplesfriend stopped, smirked coldly at his deputies
but continued to frown. He peered thoughtfully at his huge knuckles for
a moment, then nodded slowly. "A statement--_yes_."

John slid a section of the sheaf of papers to the Peoplesfriend. The Red
leader ignored them, spoke to a deputy curtly.

"Give me a sheet of paper."

The deputy fumbled in a thin briefcase, shook his head and muttered.
Finally he found a dog-eared sheet with only a few lines typed across
the top. He glanced questioningly at his leader. Ivan snatched it with a
low grunt, tore off the good half, produced a stubby, gnawed pencil, and
wrote slowly as if his hands were cramped with arthritis. John could see
the big block-letters but not the words.

"My prepared statement," said the Peoplesfriend.

With that he pushed the scrap of paper across the table. John stared,
and felt the blood leaving his face. The prepared statement said:

_I VETO YOU._

"Is this a joke?" he growled, keeping his voice calm. "You cannot mean
that you reject proposals before they are made? I fail to see the humor
in--"

"There is no humor."

John pushed back his chair, glanced at his men. "Gentlemen, it would
appear that we have