Alan Dean Foster by Codgerspace

Author:Codgerspace
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-16T04:57:32.865000+00:00

XI

THE administrator was as fond of his job as he was of his wife, his three grown children, his six grandchildren, and his home on the sloping cliff that overlooked the Mediterranean. Not that overseeing Earth was easy, even though it was far less populated than in hysterical times and regional bureaus, not to mention Parks Administration, had a good deal of operational autonomy.

But with the help of computers and a professional civil service the old Homeworld managed to continue spinning around its sun in a state of relative contentment. As chief administrator he was heir to interesting visitors and soluble problems, and the job did not require that he lift heavy objects. So despite the occasional, tolerable stress, he enjoyed going in to work each morning. Only rarely was his direct involvement in decision-making required. Most of his time was spent beaming paternally as he greeted this or that famous off-world visitor, or opening a new section of restored parkland. His position was as much ceremonial as official.

For that he was eminently well qualified. Tall, regal of bearing, with an aquiline face crowned by swept-back white hair, he was the perfect image of the senior human. He'd spent a lifetime working his way up through the Service and had advanced as far as it was possible for a civil servant to rise. His children were successful in their own right, and only one grandchild was a gameswanker. He was content.

It was such a nice day that he did not even take umbrage at the underadministrator who barged unannounced into his office, thereby disturbing his contemplation of a blissfully un-crowded desk. He smiled reassuringly.

"What is it, Jiang?"

Jiang seemed to be having some trouble finding his voice. This was unusual, as the underadministrator rarely misplaced it.

"Is something the matter?" The administrator's concern was not merely politic: he was genuinely fond of the undermin.

Jiang looked down at the printout he was holding, up at the chief administrator, and back down again, as though unable to make up his mind which to address directly.

"We have just had a communication from North America, sir. From Baltimore. It is near…"

"I know where Baltimore is, Jiang." Privately the chief administrator made a mental note to recommend some additional vacation time for his friend.

"Yes, of course you do, sir. I apologize." He finally decided it would be better to look directly at his superior. But he gestured with the printout. "According to this official report, a giant alien spaceship with perhaps five retired citizens from upstate Newyork Province aboard is presently drifting over the North Atlantic approximately eighty kilometers south-southwest of Bermuda."

As the chief administrator of the Planetary Council of the Independent and Most Revered Homeworld of Earth silently digested this news, his friend and assistant extraordinaire gazed back at him with the desperate eyes of a short-legged dog locked alone for the night in a butcher shop with high counters.

"I see." The chief spoke softly, calmly. "This is an official report, you say?"

Jiang nodded vigorously. "There have also been dozens of unofficial sightings.

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