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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Diplomatic Immunity, by Robert Sheckley
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Diplomatic Immunity
+
+Author: Robert Sheckley
+
+Illustrator: Ashman
+
+Release Date: April 18, 2010 [EBook #32040]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                         Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction August 1953.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+                         diplomatic immunity
+
+
+                          By ROBERT SHECKLEY
+
+
+                        Illustrated by ASHMAN
+
+
+     _He said he wasn't immortal--but nothing could kill him.
+      Still, if the Earth was to live as a free world, he had to
+      die._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+"Come right in, gentlemen," the Ambassador waved them into the very
+special suite the State Department had given him. "Please be seated."
+
+Colonel Cercy accepted a chair, trying to size up the individual who
+had all Washington chewing its fingernails. The Ambassador hardly
+looked like a menace. He was of medium height and slight build,
+dressed in a conservative brown tweed suit that the State Department
+had given him. His face was intelligent, finely molded and aloof.
+
+_As human as a human_, Cercy thought, studying the alien with bleak,
+impersonal eyes.
+
+"How may I serve you?" the Ambassador asked, smiling.
+
+"The President has put me in charge of your case," Cercy said. "I've
+studied Professor Darrig's reports--" he nodded at the scientist
+beside him--"but I'd like to hear the whole thing for myself."
+
+"Of course," the alien said, lighting a cigarette. He seemed genuinely
+pleased to be asked; which was interesting, Cercy thought. In the week
+since he had landed, every important scientist in the country had been
+at him.
+
+_But in a pinch they call the Army_, Cercy reminded himself. He
+settled back in his chair, both hands jammed carelessly in his
+pockets. His right hand was resting on the butt of a .45, the safety
+off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I have come," the alien said, "as an ambassador-at-large,
+representing an empire that stretches half-way across the Galaxy. I
+wish to extend the welcome of my people and to invite you to join our
+organization."
+
+"I see," Cercy replied. "Some of the scientists got the impression
+that participation was compulsory."
+
+"You will join," the Ambassador said, blowing smoke through his
+nostrils.
+
+Cercy could see Darrig stiffen in his chair and bite his lip. Cercy
+moved the automatic to a position where he could draw it easily. "How
+did you find us?" he asked.
+
+"We ambassadors-at-large are each assigned an unexplored section of
+space," the alien said. "We examine each star-system in that region
+for planets, and each planet for intelligent life. Intelligent life is
+rare in the Galaxy, you know."
+
+Cercy nodded, although he hadn't been aware of the fact.
+
+"When we find such a planet, we land, as I did, and prepare the
+inhabitants for their part in our organization."
+
+"How will your people know that you have found intelligent life?"
+Cercy asked.
+
+"There is a sending mechanism that is part of our structure," the
+Ambassador answered. "It is triggered when we reach an inhabited
+planet. This signal is beamed continually into space, to an effective
+range of several thousand light-years. Follow-up crews are continually
+sweeping through the limits of the reception area of each Ambassador,
+listening for such messages. Detecting one, a colonizing team follows
+it to the planet."
+
+He tapped his cigarette delicately on the edge of an ash tray. "This
+method has definite advantages over sending combined colonization and
+exploration teams obviously. It avoids the necessity of equipping
+large forces for what may be decades of searching."
+
+"Sure." Cercy's face was expressionless. "Would you tell me more about
+this message?"
+
+"There isn't much more you need know. The beam is not detectable by
+your methods and, therefore, cannot be jammed. The message continues
+as long as I am alive."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Darrig drew in his breath sharply, glancing at Cercy.
+
+"If you stopped broadcasting," Cercy said casually, "our planet would
+never be found."
+
+"Not until this section of space was resurveyed," the diplomat agreed.
+
+"Very well. As a duly appointed representative of the President of the
+United States, I ask you to stop transmitting. We don't choose to
+become part of your empire."
+
+"I'm sorry," the Ambassador said. He shrugged his shoulders easily.
+Cercy wondered how many times he had played this scene on how many
+other planets.
+
+"There's really nothing I can do." He stood up.
+
+"Then you won't stop?"
+
+"I can't. I have no control over the sending, once it's activated."
+The diplomat turned and walked to the window. "However, I have
+prepared a philosophy for you. It is my duty, as your Ambassador, to
+ease the shock of transition as much as possible. This philosophy will
+make it instantly apparent that--"
+
+As the Ambassador reached the window, Cercy's gun was out of his
+pocket and roaring. He squeezed six rounds in almost a single
+explosion, aiming at the Ambassador's head and back. Then an
+uncontrollable shudder ran through him.
+
+The Ambassador was no longer there!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Cercy and Darrig stared at each other. Darrig muttered something about
+ghosts. Then, just as suddenly, the Ambassador was back.
+
+"You didn't think," he said, "that it would be as easy as all that,
+did you? We Ambassadors have, necessarily, a certain diplomatic
+immunity." He fingered one of the bullet holes in the wall. "In case
+you don't understand, let me put it this way. It is not in your power
+to kill me. You couldn't even understand the nature of my defense."
+
+He looked at them, and in that moment Cercy felt the Ambassador's
+complete alienness.
+
+"Good day, gentlemen," he said.
+
+Darrig and Cercy walked silently back to the control room. Neither had
+really expected that the Ambassador would be killed so easily, but it
+had still been a shock when the slugs had failed.
+
+"I suppose you saw it all, Malley?" Cercy asked, when he reached the
+control room.
+
+The thin, balding psychiatrist nodded sadly. "Got it on film, too."
+
+"I wonder what his philosophy is," Darrig mused, half to himself.
+
+"It was illogical to expect it would work. No race would send an
+ambassador with a message like that and expect him to live through it.
+Unless--"
+
+"Unless what?"
+
+"Unless he had a pretty effective defense," the psychiatrist finished
+unhappily.
+
+Cercy walked across the room and looked at the video panel. The
+Ambassador's suite was very special. It had been hurriedly constructed
+two days after he had landed and delivered his message. The suite was
+steel and lead lined, filled with video and movie cameras, recorders,
+and a variety of other things.
+
+It was the last word in elaborate death cells.
+
+In the screen, Cercy could see the Ambassador sitting at a table. He
+was typing on a little portable the Government had given him.
+
+"Hey, Harrison!" Cercy called. "Might as well go ahead with Plan Two."
+
+Harrison came out of a side room where he had been examining the
+circuits leading to the Ambassador's suite. Methodically he checked
+his pressure gauges, set the controls and looked at Cercy. "Now?" he
+asked.
+
+"Now." Cercy watched the screen. The Ambassador was still typing.
+
+Suddenly, as Harrison sent home the switch, the room was engulfed in
+flames. Fire blasted out of concealed holes in the walls, poured from
+the ceiling and floor.
+
+In a moment, the room was like the inside of a blast furnace.
+
+Cercy let it burn for two minutes, then motioned Harrison to cut the
+switch. They stared at the roasted room.
+
+They were looking, hopefully, for a charred corpse.
+
+But the Ambassador reappeared beside his desk, looking ruefully at the
+charred typewriter. He was completely unsinged.
+
+"Could you get me another typewriter?" he asked, looking directly at
+one of the hidden projectors. "I'm setting down a philosophy for you
+ungrateful wretches."
+
+He seated himself in the wreckage of an armchair. In a moment, he was
+apparently asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"All right, everyone grab a seat," Cercy said. "Time for a council of
+war."
+
+Malley straddled a chair backward. Harrison lighted a pipe as he sat
+down, slowly puffing it into life.
+
+"Now, then," Cercy said. "The Government has dropped this squarely in
+our laps. We have to kill the Ambassador--obviously. I've been put in
+charge." Cercy grinned with regret. "Probably because no one higher up
+wants the responsibility of failure. And I've selected you three as my
+staff. We can have anything we want, any assistance or advice we need.
+All right. Any ideas?"
+
+"How about Plan Three?" Harrison asked.
+
+"We'll get to that," Cercy said. "But I don't believe it's going to
+work."
+
+"I don't either," Darrig agreed. "We don't even know the nature of his
+defense."
+
+"That's the first order of business. Malley, take all our data so far,
+and get someone to feed it into the Derichman Analyzer. You know the
+stuff we want. What properties has X, if X can do thus and thus?"
+
+"Right," Malley said. He left, muttering something about the
+ascendancy of the physical sciences.
+
+"Harrison," Cercy asked, "is Plan Three set up?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Give it a try."
+
+While Harrison was making his last adjustments, Cercy watched Darrig.
+The plump little physicist was staring thoughtfully into space,
+muttering to himself. Cercy hoped he would come up with something. He
+was expecting great things of Darrig.
+
+Knowing the impossibility of working with great numbers of people,
+Cercy had picked his staff with care. Quality was what he wanted.
+
+With that in mind, he had chosen Harrison first. The stocky,
+sour-faced engineer had a reputation for being able to build anything,
+given half an idea of how it worked.
+
+Cercy had selected Malley, the psychiatrist, because he wasn't sure
+that killing the Ambassador was going to be a purely physical problem.
+
+Darrig was a mathematical physicist, but his restless, curious mind
+had come up with some interesting theories in other fields. He was the
+only one of the four who was really interested in the Ambassador as an
+intellectual problem.
+
+"He's like Metal Old Man," Darrig said finally.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Haven't you ever heard the story of Metal Old Man? Well, he was a
+monster covered with black metal armor. He was met by Monster-Slayer,
+an Apache culture hero. Monster-Slayer, after many attempts, finally
+killed Metal Old Man."
+
+"How did he do it?"
+
+"Shot him in the armpit. He didn't have any armor there."
+
+"Fine," Cercy grinned. "Ask our Ambassador to raise his arm."
+
+"All set!" Harrison called.
+
+"Fine. Go."
+
+In the Ambassador's room, an invisible spray of gamma rays silently
+began to flood the room with deadly radiation.
+
+But there was no Ambassador to receive them.
+
+"That's enough," Cercy said, after a while. "That would kill a herd of
+elephants."
+
+But the Ambassador stayed invisible for five hours, until some of the
+radioactivity had abated. Then he appeared again.
+
+"I'm still waiting for that typewriter," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Here's the Analyzer's report." Malley handed Cercy a sheaf of papers.
+"This is the final formulation, boiled down."
+
+Cercy read it aloud: "The simplest defense against any and all
+weapons, is to _become_ each particular weapon."
+
+"Great," Harrison said. "What does it mean?"
+
+"It means," Darrig explained, "that when we attack the Ambassador with
+fire, he turns into fire. Shoot at him, and he turns into a
+bullet--until the menace is gone, and then he changes back again." He
+took the papers out of Cercy's hand and riffled through them.
+
+"Hmm. Wonder if there's any historical parallel? Don't suppose so." He
+raised his head. "Although this isn't conclusive, it seems logical
+enough. Any other defense would involve recognition of the weapon
+first, then an appraisal, then a countermove predicated on the
+potentialities of the weapon. The Ambassador's defense would be a lot
+faster and safer. He wouldn't have to recognize the weapon. I suppose
+his body simply _identifies_, in some way, with the menace at hand."
+
+"Did the Analyzer say there was any way of breaking this defense?"
+Cercy asked.
+
+"The Analyzer stated definitely that there was no way, if the premise
+were true," Malley answered gloomily.
+
+"We can discard that judgment," Darrig said. "The machine is limited."
+
+"But we still haven't got any way of stopping him," Malley pointed
+out. "And he's still broadcasting that beam."
+
+Cercy thought for a moment. "Call in every expert you can find. We're
+going to throw the book at the Ambassador. I know," he said, looking
+at Darrig's dubious expression, "but we have to try."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During the next few days, every combination and permutation of death
+was thrown at the Ambassador. He was showered with weapons, ranging
+from Stone-Age axes to modern high-powered rifles, peppered with hand
+grenades, drowned in acid, suffocated in poison gas.
+
+He kept shrugging his shoulders philosophically, and continued to work
+on the new typewriter they had given him.
+
+Bacteria was piped in, first the known germ diseases, then mutated
+species.
+
+The diplomat didn't even sneeze.
+
+He was showered with electricity, radiation, wooden weapons, iron
+weapons, copper weapons, brass weapons, uranium weapons--anything and
+everything, just to cover all possibilities.
+
+He didn't suffer a scratch, but his room looked as though a bar-room
+brawl had been going on in it continually for fifty years.
+
+Malley was working on an idea of his own, as was Darrig. The physicist
+interrupted himself long enough to remind Cercy of the Baldur myth.
+Baldur had been showered with every kind of weapon and remained
+unscathed, because everything on Earth had promised to love him.
+Everything, except the mistletoe. When a little twig of it was shot at
+him, he died.
+
+Cercy turned away impatiently, but had an order of mistletoe sent up,
+just in case.
+
+It was, at least, no less effective than the explosive shells or the
+bow and arrow. It did nothing except lend an oddly festive air to the
+battered room.
+
+After a week of this, they moved the unprotesting Ambassador into a
+newer, bigger, stronger death cell. They were unable to venture into
+his old one because of the radioactivity and micro-organisms.
+
+The Ambassador went back to work at his typewriter. All his previous
+attempts had been burned, torn or eaten away.
+
+"Let's go talk to him," Darrig suggested, after another day had
+passed. Cercy agreed. For the moment, they were out of ideas.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Come right in, gentlemen," the Ambassador said, so cheerfully that
+Cercy felt sick. "I'm sorry I can't offer you anything. Through an
+oversight, I haven't been given any food or water for about ten days.
+Not that it matters, of course."
+
+"Glad to hear it," Cercy said. The Ambassador hardly looked as if he
+had been facing all the violence Earth had to offer. On the contrary,
+Cercy and his men looked as though they had been under bombardment.
+
+"You've got quite a defense there," Malley said conversationally.
+
+"Glad you like it."
+
+"Would you mind telling us how it works?" Darrig asked innocently.
+
+"Don't you know?"
+
+"We think so. You become what is attacking you. Is that right?"
+
+"Certainly," the Ambassador said. "You see, I have no secrets from
+you."
+
+"Is there anything we can give you," Cercy asked, "to get you to turn
+off that signal?"
+
+"A bribe?"
+
+"Sure," Cercy said. "Anything you--?"
+
+"Nothing," the Ambassador replied.
+
+"Look, be reasonable," Harrison said. "You don't want to cause a war,
+do you? Earth is united now. We're arming--"
+
+"With what?"
+
+"Atom bombs," Malley answered him. "Hydrogen bombs. We're--"
+
+"Drop one on me," the Ambassador said. "It wouldn't kill me. What
+makes you think it will have any effect on my people?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The four men were silent. Somehow, they hadn't thought of that.
+
+"A people's ability to make war," the Ambassador stated, "is a measure
+of the status of their civilization. Stage one is the use of simple
+physical extensions. Stage two is control at the molecular level. You
+are on the threshold of stage three, although still far from mastery
+of atomic and subatomic forces." He smiled ingratiatingly. "My people
+are reaching the limits of stage five."
+
+"What would that be?" Darrig asked.
+
+"You'll find out," the Ambassador said. "But perhaps you've wondered
+if my powers are typical? I don't mind telling you that they're not.
+In order for me to do my job and nothing more, I have certain built-in
+restrictions, making me capable only of passive action."
+
+"Why?" Darrig asked.
+
+"For obvious reasons. If I were to take positive action in a moment of
+anger, I might destroy your entire planet."
+
+"Do you expect us to believe that?" Cercy asked.
+
+"Why not? Is it so hard to understand? Can't you believe that there
+are forces you know nothing about? And there is another reason for my
+passiveness. Certainly by this time you've deduced it?"
+
+"To break our spirit, I suppose," Cercy said.
+
+"Exactly. My telling you won't make any difference, either. The
+pattern is always the same. An Ambassador lands and delivers his
+message to a high-spirited, wild young race like yours. There is
+frenzied resistance against him, spasmodic attempts to kill him. After
+all these fail, the people are usually quite crestfallen. When the
+colonization team arrives, their indoctrination goes along just that
+much faster." He paused, then said, "Most planets are more interested
+in the philosophy I have to offer. I assure you, it will make the
+transition far easier."
+
+He held out a sheaf of typewritten pages. "Won't you at least look
+through it?"
+
+Darrig accepted the papers and put them in his pocket. "When I get
+time."
+
+"I suggest you give it a try," the Ambassador said. "You must be near
+the crisis point now. Why not give it up?"
+
+"Not yet," Cercy replied tonelessly.
+
+"Don't forget to read the philosophy," the Ambassador urged them.
+
+The men hurried from the room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Now look," Malley said, once they were back in the control room,
+"there are a few things we haven't tried. How about utilizing
+psychology?"
+
+"Anything you like," Cercy agreed, "including black magic. What did
+you have in mind?"
+
+"The way I see it," Malley answered, "the Ambassador is geared to
+respond, instantaneously, to any threat. He must have an
+all-or-nothing defensive reflex. I suggest first that we try something
+that won't trigger that reflex."
+
+"Like what?" Cercy asked.
+
+"Hypnotism. Perhaps we can find out something."
+
+"Sure," Cercy said. "Try it. Try anything."
+
+Cercy, Malley and Darrig gathered around the video screen as an
+infinitesimal amount of a light hypnotic gas was admitted into the
+Ambassador's room. At the same time, a bolt of electricity lashed into
+the chair where the Ambassador was sitting.
+
+"That was to distract him," Malley explained. The Ambassador vanished
+before the electricity struck him, and then appeared again, curled up
+in his armchair.
+
+"That's enough," Malley whispered, and shut the valve. They watched.
+After a while, the Ambassador put down his book and stared into the
+distance.
+
+"How strange," he said. "Alfern dead. Good friend ... just a freak
+accident. He ran into it, out there. Didn't have a chance. But it
+doesn't happen often."
+
+"He's thinking out loud," Malley whispered, although there was no
+possibility of the Ambassador's hearing them. "Vocalizing his
+thoughts. His friend must have been on his mind for some time."
+
+"Of course," the Ambassador went on, "Alfern had to die sometime. No
+immortality--yet. But that way--no defense. Out there in space they
+just pop up. Always there, underneath, just waiting for a chance to
+boil out."
+
+"His body isn't reacting to the hypnotic as a menace yet," Cercy
+whispered.
+
+"Well," the Ambassador told himself, "the regularizing principle has
+been doing pretty well, keeping it all down, smoothing out the
+inconsistencies--"
+
+Suddenly he leaped to his feet, his face pale for a moment, as he
+obviously tried to remember what he had said. Then he laughed.
+
+"Clever. That's the first time that particular trick has been played
+on me, and the last time. But, gentlemen, it didn't do you any good. I
+don't know, myself, how to go about killing me." He laughed at the
+blank walls.
+
+"Besides," he continued, "the colonizing team must have the direction
+now. They'll find you with or without me."
+
+He sat down again, smiling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"That does it!" Darrig cried. "He's not invulnerable. Something killed
+his friend Alfern."
+
+"Something out in space," Cercy reminded him. "I wonder what it was."
+
+"Let me see," Darrig reflected aloud. "The regularizing principle.
+That must be a natural law we knew nothing about. And underneath--what
+would be underneath?"
+
+"He said the colonization team would find us anyhow," Malley reminded
+them.
+
+"First things first," Cercy said. "He might have been bluffing us ...
+no, I don't suppose so. We still have to get the Ambassador out of the
+way."
+
+"I think I know what is underneath!" Darrig exclaimed. "This is
+wonderful. A new cosmology, perhaps."
+
+"What is it?" Cercy asked. "Anything we can use?"
+
+"I think so. But let me work it out. I think I'll go back to my hotel.
+I have some books there I want to check, and I don't want to be
+disturbed for a few hours."
+
+"All right," Cercy agreed. "But what--?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"No, no, I could be wrong," Darrig said. "Let me work it out." He
+hurried from the room.
+
+"What do you think he's driving at?" Malley asked.
+
+"Beats me," Cercy shrugged. "Come on, let's try some more of that
+psychological stuff."
+
+First they filled the Ambassador's room with several feet of water.
+Not enough to drown him, just enough to make him good and
+uncomfortable.
+
+To this, they added the lights. For eight hours, lights flashed in the
+Ambassador's room. Bright lights to pry under his eyelids; dull,
+clashing ones to disturb him.
+
+Sound came next--screeches and screams and shrill, grating noises. The
+sound of a man's fingernails being dragged across slate, amplified a
+thousand times, and strange, sucking noises, and shouts and whispers.
+
+Then, the smells. Then, everything else they could think of that could
+drive a man insane.
+
+The Ambassador slept peacefully through it all.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Now look," Cercy said, the following day, "let's start using our
+damned heads." His voice was hoarse and rough. Although the
+psychological torture hadn't bothered the Ambassador, it seemed to
+have backfired on Cercy and his men.
+
+"Where in hell is Darrig?"
+
+"Still working on that idea of his," Malley said, rubbing his stubbled
+chin. "Says he's just about got it."
+
+"We'll work on the assumption that he can't produce," Cercy said.
+"Start thinking. For example, if the Ambassador can turn into
+anything, what is there he can't turn into?"
+
+"Good question," Harrison grunted.
+
+"It's the payoff question," Cercy said. "No use throwing a spear at a
+man who can turn into one."
+
+"How about this?" Malley asked. "Taking it for granted he can turn
+into anything, how about putting him in a situation where he'll be
+attacked even _after_ he alters?"
+
+"I'm listening," Cercy said.
+
+"Say he's in danger. He turns into the thing threatening him. What if
+_that thing_ were itself being threatened? And, in turn, was in the
+act of threatening something else? What would he do then?"
+
+"How are you going to put that into action?" Cercy asked.
+
+"Like this." Malley picked up the telephone. "Hello? Give me the
+Washington Zoo. This is urgent."
+
+The Ambassador turned as the door opened. An unwilling, angry, hungry
+tiger was propelled in. The door slammed shut.
+
+The tiger looked at the Ambassador. The Ambassador looked at the
+tiger.
+
+"Most ingenious," the Ambassador said.
+
+At the sound of his voice, the tiger came unglued. He sprang like a
+steel spring uncoiling, landing on the floor where the Ambassador had
+been.
+
+The door opened again. Another tiger was pushed in. He snarled angrily
+and leaped at the first. They smashed together in midair.
+
+The Ambassador appeared a few feet off, watching. He moved back when a
+lion entered the door, head up and alert. The lion sprang at him,
+almost going over on his head when he struck nothing. Not finding any
+human, the lion leaped on one of the tigers.
+
+The Ambassador reappeared in his chair, where he sat smoking and
+watching the beasts kill each other.
+
+In ten minutes the room looked like an abattoir.
+
+But by then the Ambassador had tired of the spectacle, and was
+reclining on his bed, reading.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I give up," Malley said. "That was my last bright idea."
+
+Cercy stared at the floor, not answering. Harrison was seated in the
+corner, getting quietly drunk.
+
+The telephone rang.
+
+"Yeah?" Cercy said.
+
+"I've got it!" Darrig's voice shouted over the line. "I really think
+this is it. Look, I'm taking a cab right down. Tell Harrison to find
+some helpers."
+
+"What is it?" Cercy asked.
+
+"The chaos underneath!" Darrig replied, and hung up.
+
+They paced the floor, waiting for him to show up. Half an hour passed,
+then an hour. Finally, three hours after he had called, Darrig
+strolled in.
+
+"Hello," he said casually.
+
+"Hello, hell!" Cercy growled. "What kept you?"
+
+"On the way over," Darrig said, "I read the Ambassador's philosophy.
+It's quite a work."
+
+"Is that what took you so long?"
+
+"Yes. I had the driver take me around the park a few times, while I
+was reading it."
+
+"Skip it. How about--"
+
+"I can't skip it," Darrig said, in a strange, tight voice. "I'm afraid
+we were wrong. About the aliens, I mean. It's perfectly right and
+proper that they should rule us. As a matter of fact, I wish they'd
+hurry up and get here."
+
+But Darrig didn't look certain. His voice shook and perspiration
+poured from his face. He twisted his hands together, as though in
+agony.
+
+"It's hard to explain," he said. "Everything became clear as soon as I
+started reading it. I saw how stupid we were, trying to be
+independent in this interdependent Universe. I saw--oh, look, Cercy.
+Let's stop all this foolishness and accept the Ambassador as our
+friend."
+
+"Calm down!" Cercy shouted at the perfectly calm physicist. "You don't
+know what you're saying."
+
+"It's strange," Darrig said. "I know how I felt--I just don't feel
+that way any more. I think. Anyhow, I know _your_ trouble. You haven't
+read the philosophy. You'll see what I mean, once you've read it." He
+handed Cercy the pile of papers. Cercy promptly ignited them with his
+cigarette lighter.
+
+"It doesn't matter," Darrig said. "I've got it memorized. Just listen.
+Axiom one. All peoples--"
+
+Cercy hit him, a short, clean blow, and Darrig slumped to the floor.
+
+"Those words must be semantically keyed," Malley said. "They're
+designed to set off certain reactions in us, I suppose. All the
+Ambassador does is alter the philosophy to suit the peoples he's
+dealing with."
+
+"Look, Malley," Cercy said. "This is your job now. Darrig knows, or
+thought he knew, the answer. You have to get that out of him."
+
+"That won't be easy," Malley said. "He'd feel that he was betraying
+everything he believes in, if he were to tell us."
+
+"I don't care how you get it," Cercy said. "Just get it."
+
+"Even if it kills him?" Malley asked.
+
+"Even if it kills you."
+
+"Help me get him to my lab," Malley said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night Cercy and Harrison kept watch on the Ambassador from the
+control room. Cercy found his thoughts were racing in circles.
+
+What had killed Alfern in space? Could it be duplicated on Earth? What
+was the regularizing principle? What was the chaos underneath?
+
+_What in hell am I doing here?_ he asked himself. But he couldn't
+start that sort of thing.
+
+"What do you figure the Ambassador is?" he asked Harrison. "Is he a
+man?"
+
+"Looks like one," Harrison said drowsily.
+
+"But he doesn't act like one. I wonder if this is his true shape?"
+
+Harrison shook his head, and lighted his pipe.
+
+"What is there of him?" Cercy asked. "He looks like a man, but he can
+change into anything else. You can't attack him; he adapts. He's like
+water, taking the shape of any vessel he's poured into."
+
+"You can boil water," Harrison yawned.
+
+"Sure. Water hasn't any shape, has it? Or has it? What's basic?"
+
+With an effort, Harrison tried to focus on Cercy's words. "Molecular
+pattern? The matrix?"
+
+"Matrix," Cercy repeated, yawning himself. "Pattern. Must be something
+like that. A pattern is abstract, isn't it?"
+
+"Sure. A pattern can be impressed on anything. What did I say?"
+
+"Let's see," Cercy said. "Pattern. Matrix. Everything about the
+Ambassador is capable of change. There must be some unifying force
+that retains his personality. Something that _doesn't_ change, no
+matter what contortions he goes through."
+
+"Like a piece of string," Harrison murmured with his eyes closed.
+
+"Sure. Tie it in knots, weave a rope out of it, wind it around your
+finger; it's still string."
+
+"Yeah."
+
+"But how do you attack a pattern?" Cercy asked. And why couldn't he
+get some sleep? To hell with the Ambassador and his hordes of
+colonists, he was going to close his eyes for a moment....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Wake up, Colonel!"
+
+Cercy pried his eyes open and looked up at Malley. Besides him,
+Harrison was snoring deeply. "Did you get anything?"
+
+"Not a thing," Malley confessed. "The philosophy must've had quite an
+effect on him. But it didn't work all the way. Darrig knew that he
+_had wanted_ to kill the Ambassador, and for good and sufficient
+reasons. Although he felt differently now, he still had the feeling
+that he was betraying us. On the one hand, he couldn't hurt the
+Ambassador; on the other, he wouldn't hurt us."
+
+"Won't he tell anything?"
+
+"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Malley said. "You know, if you have
+an insurmountable obstacle that _must_ be surmounted ... and also, I
+think the philosophy had an injurious effect on his mind."
+
+"What are you trying to say?" Cercy got to his feet.
+
+"I'm sorry," Malley apologized, "there wasn't a damned thing I could
+do. Darrig fought the whole thing out in his mind, and when he
+couldn't fight any longer, he--retreated. I'm afraid he's hopelessly
+insane."
+
+"Let's see him."
+
+They walked down the corridor to Malley's laboratory. Darrig was
+relaxed on a couch, his eyes glazed and staring.
+
+"Is there any way of curing him?" Cercy asked.
+
+"Shock therapy, maybe." Malley was dubious. "It'll take a long time.
+And he'll probably block out everything that had to do with producing
+this."
+
+Cercy turned away, feeling sick. Even if Darrig could be cured, it
+would be too late. The aliens must have picked up the Ambassador's
+message by now and were undoubtedly heading for Earth.
+
+"What's this?" Cercy asked, picking up a piece of paper that lay by
+Darrig's hand.
+
+"Oh, he was doodling," Malley said. "Is there anything written on it?"
+
+Cercy read aloud: "'Upon further consideration I can see that Chaos
+and the Gorgon Medusa are closely related.'"
+
+"What does that mean?" Malley asked.
+
+"I don't know," Cercy puzzled. "He was always interested in folklore."
+
+"Sounds schizophrenic," the psychiatrist said.
+
+Cercy read it again. "'Upon further consideration, I can see that
+Chaos and the Gorgon Medusa are closely related.'" He stared at it.
+"Isn't it possible," he asked Malley, "that he was trying to give us a
+clue? Trying to trick himself into giving and not giving at the same
+time?"
+
+"It's possible," Malley agreed. "An unsuccessful compromise--But what
+could it mean?"
+
+"Chaos." Cercy remembered Darrig's mentioning that word in his
+telephone call. "That was the original state of the Universe in Greek
+myth, wasn't it? The formlessness out of which everything came?"
+
+"Something like that," Malley said. "And Medusa was one of those three
+sisters with the horrible faces."
+
+Cercy stood for a moment, staring at the paper. Chaos ... Medusa ...
+and the organizing principle! Of course!
+
+"I think--" He turned and ran from the room. Malley looked at him;
+then loaded a hypodermic and followed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the control room, Cercy shouted Harrison into consciousness.
+
+"Listen," he said, "I want you to build something, quick. Do you hear
+me?"
+
+"Sure." Harrison blinked and sat up. "What's the rush?"
+
+"I know what Darrig wanted to tell us," Cercy said. "Come on, I'll
+tell you what I want. And Malley, put down that hypodermic. I haven't
+cracked. I want you to get me a book on Greek mythology. And hurry it
+up."
+
+Finding a Greek mythology isn't an easy task at two o'clock in the
+morning. With the aid of FBI men, Malley routed a book dealer out of
+bed. He got his book and hurried back.
+
+Cercy was red-eyed and excited, and Harrison and his helpers were
+working away at three crazy looking rigs. Cercy snatched the book from
+Malley, looked up one item, and put it down.
+
+"Great work," he said. "We're all set now. Finished, Harrison?"
+
+"Just about." Harrison and ten helpers were screwing in the last
+parts. "Will you tell me what this is?"
+
+"Me too," Malley put in.
+
+"I don't mean to be secretive," Cercy said. "I'm just in a hurry. I'll
+explain as we go along." He stood up. "Okay, let's wake up the
+Ambassador."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They watched the screen as a bolt of electricity leaped from the
+ceiling to the Ambassador's bed. Immediately, the Ambassador vanished.
+
+"Now he's a part of that stream of electrons, right?" Cercy asked.
+
+"That's what he told us," Malley said.
+
+"But still keeping his pattern, within the stream," Cercy continued.
+"He has to, in order to get back into his own shape. Now we start the
+first disrupter."
+
+Harrison hooked the machine into circuit, and sent his helpers away.
+
+"Here's a running graph of the electron stream," Cercy said. "See the
+difference?" On the graph there was an irregular series of peaks and
+valleys, constantly shifting and leveling. "Do you remember when you
+hypnotized the Ambassador? He talked about his friend who'd been
+killed in space."
+
+"That's right," Malley nodded. "His friend had been killed by
+something that had just popped up."
+
+"He said something else," Cercy went on. "He told us that the basic
+organizing force of the Universe usually stopped things like that.
+What does that mean to you?"
+
+"The organizing force," Malley repeated slowly. "Didn't Darrig say
+that that was a new natural law?"
+
+"He did. But think of the implications, as Darrig did. If an
+organizing principle is engaged in some work, there must be something
+that opposes it. That which opposes organization is--"
+
+"Chaos!"
+
+"That's what Darrig thought, and what we should have seen. The chaos
+is underlying, and out of it there arose an organizing principle. This
+principle, if I've got it right, sought to suppress the fundamental
+chaos, to make all things regular.
+
+"But the chaos still boils out in spots, as Alfern found out. Perhaps
+the organizational pattern is weaker in space. Anyhow, those spots are
+dangerous, until the organizing principle gets to work on them."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He turned to the panel. "Okay, Harrison. Throw in the second
+disrupter." The peaks and valleys altered on the graph. They started
+to mount in crazy, meaningless configurations.
+
+"Take Darrig's message in the light of that. Chaos, we know, is
+underlying. Everything was formed out of it. The Gorgon Medusa was
+something that _couldn't be looked upon_. She turned men into stone,
+you recall, destroyed them. So, Darrig found a relationship between
+chaos and that which can't be looked upon. All with regard to the
+Ambassador, of course."
+
+"The Ambassador can't look upon chaos!" Malley cried.
+
+"That's it. The Ambassador is capable of an infinite number of
+alterations and permutations. But _something_--the matrix--can't
+change, because then there would be nothing left. To destroy something
+as abstract as a pattern, we need a state in which no pattern is
+possible. A state of chaos."
+
+The third disrupter was thrown into circuit. The graph looked as if a
+drunken caterpillar had been sketching on it.
+
+"Those disrupters are Harrison's idea," Cercy said. "I told him I
+wanted an electrical current with absolutely no coherent pattern. The
+disrupters are an extension of radio jamming. The first alters the
+electrical pattern. That's its purpose: to produce a state of
+patternlessness. The second tries to destroy the pattern left by the
+first; the third tries to destroy the pattern made by the first two.
+They're fed back then, and any remaining pattern is systematically
+destroyed in circuit ... I hope."
+
+"This is supposed to produce a state of chaos?" Malley asked, looking
+into the screen.
+
+For a while there was only the whining of the machines and the crazy
+doodling of the graph. Then, in the middle of the Ambassador's room, a
+spot appeared. It wavered, shrunk, expanded--
+
+What happened was indescribable. All they knew was that everything
+within the spot had disappeared.
+
+"Switch it off" Cercy shouted. Harrison cut the switch.
+
+The spot continued to grow.
+
+"How is it we're able to look at it?" Malley asked, staring at the
+screen.
+
+"The shield of Perseus, remember?" Cercy said. "Using it as a mirror,
+he could look at Medusa."
+
+"It's still growing!" Malley shouted.
+
+"There was a calculated risk in all this," Cercy said. "There's always
+the possibility that the chaos may go on, unchecked. If that happens,
+it won't matter much what--"
+
+The spot stopped growing. Its edges wavered and rippled, and then it
+started to shrink.
+
+"The organizing principle," Cercy said, and collapsed into a chair.
+
+"Any sign of the Ambassador?" he asked, in a few minutes.
+
+The spot was still wavering. Then it was gone. Instantly there was an
+explosion. The steel walls buckled inward, but held. The screen went
+dead.
+
+"The spot removed all the air from the room," Cercy explained, "as
+well as the furniture and the Ambassador."
+
+"He couldn't take it," Malley said. "No pattern can cohere, in a state
+of patternlessness. He's gone to join Alfern."
+
+Malley started to giggle. Cercy felt like joining him, but pulled
+himself together.
+
+"Take it easy," he said. "We're not through yet."
+
+"Sure we are! The Ambassador--"
+
+"Is out of the way. But there's still an alien fleet homing in on this
+region of space. A fleet so strong we couldn't scratch it with an
+H-bomb. They'll be looking for us."
+
+He stood up.
+
+"Go home and get some sleep. Something tells me that tomorrow we're
+going to have to start figuring out some way of camouflaging a
+planet."
+
+                                                     --ROBERT SHECKLEY
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Diplomatic Immunity, by Robert Sheckley
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