The Equation

Professor George Anderson hung up the phone and looked out his office window. He watched students walking across the campus, and wondered how the news he had just received would change their lives. He had finally been invited to present his research on light-speed travel at a prestigious science conference.

In one month he would be standing in front of scientists from around the world at the conference in Los Angeles. By the end of the speech, they would either consider him a genius or an idiot from Canada.

He’d told himself a thousand times that it didn’t matter what others thought, but he knew it wasn’t true. He wanted to be recognized as the scientist who discovered light-speed travel. He wanted to be there when the first light-speed vessel left earth’s orbit to explore the galaxy and beyond. Perhaps he could arrange for the first light-speed vessel to begin its historic voyage on a Tuesday at 8:15 PM. It was 8:15 PM on a Tuesday evening when the theory first began to take shape in a karate class.

Sensei Johnson was talking about how to deliver devastating power with a reverse punch. Even if you were running towards your opponent, your feet had to make contact with the floor, but only for the instant when the fist started moving towards the target. Shoulder muscles had to be tense enough to producer power, but fluid enough to allow lightning-fast delivery of the technique. It was all about balance and flow, using the natural movement of the body to transfer kinetic energy to the target.

Professor Anderson was convinced that light-speed travel involved plotting a course so that a vessel continued moving through one planet’s gravitational field to the next in a constant slingshot action. The vessel would be close enough to use the force of a planet’s gravitational field, without being drawn toward the surface. Properly timed bursts of energy from a rocket or fusion engine would maintain the slingshot process, until the final destination was reached.

He looked at his watch and realized that he was going to be late for his next class. He grabbed his briefcase and rushed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. When the Professor arrived at the classroom, he was breathing heavily from running across campus. He walked over to the podium, grinning from ear to ear, and began laughing. He had no other way to express his emotions. Years of self-doubt had instantly faded away.

He took a moment to calm down before he addressed his students, because he always stuttered when he spoke too quickly. It was simple a case of letting the mouth catch up with the brain.

Professor Anderson relaxed and smiled at the confused students. “Just in case you think a case of insanity might get you out of writing your final exam, you’re out of luck. I want to state for the record that I am perfectly sane.”

Several students responded with nervous laughs, others stared in silence.

“Several years go I began developing a theory of light-speed travel, but no one was willing to listen. I’ve lost count of how many rejection letters have been mailed to me by the editors of academic journals around the world. A few minutes ago, that all changed. I have been invited to present my theory of light-speed travel at a science conference in Los Angeles.”

Irzak Sullar, President of the Thorzalene Planetary Council looked out the conference room window at the busy streets of the capitol city. In the distance she could see the Monument to the Ancestors at the gates of Thorzalene City Park. Naturally, the monument was a statue of a deep-space freighter captain. Thorzalene was not rich in natural resources, so it’s prosperity was due to the skills of the officers and crews of the inter-galactic merchant fleet. Now, because of one human’s discovery, it appeared a new trade route would be opened to the planet Earth. The problem was it threatened to draw trade away from Thorzalene.

The President glanced at her reflection in the window and wondered how a human would react to her appearance. Like other Thorzalenes, she had light grey skin, red eyes and no exterior formation for auditory organs. White hair formed a triangle on her forehead, with the tip starting at the bridge of her nose. As it reached the top of her forehead, her hair became red and then became grey as it flowed over her shoulders. She held up her hands and tried to comprehend what it would be like to have two less digits on each.

The President turned to face her cabinet ministers seated around a large, oval conference table of polished metal. “Are you absolutely sure that he knows?”

The Minister of Military Operations pointed a small device at the wall opposite the table, and a large screen appeared. On one side of the screen was an e-mail message sent by Professor Anderson to a colleague at another university. On the other side was the translation in Thorzalene: “I’ll see you at the West coast conference. The title of my presentation is called ‘A Theory of Light-Speed Travel.’”

“Normally,” began the Minister, “any mention of light-speed travel by humans is ignored. It’s nothing but harmless speculation about the future. However, because of the potential impact that the development of light-speed travel might have on our planet, our long-range scanners are programmed to search for the Light-Speed Equation in all human electronic media. Our scanners have detected The Light-Speed equation stored on Professor George Anderson’s computer at the university where he teaches, and on the computer at his residence.”

“We could destroy the data on his computers, but that won’t solve our problem. He has the Light-Speed Equation memorized. If we are going to stop him from presenting The Light-Speed Equation at the conference, we will have to take drastic action.”

President Sullar looked over at the Minister of Science. “Have you confirmed that his theory would result in light-speed travel?”

The Minister of Science sighed heavily. She feared what her answer might set in motion, but she believed in speaking the truth regardless of the consequences. “Yes. His theory has been tested using computer simulations. Professor George Anderson definitely has a working model of The Light-Speed Equation.”

The Minister of Military Operations slowly let his gaze fall on everyone at the table. “I warned you they were becoming too advanced, but no one would believe me. We have to strike now, before the humans build light-speed travel vessels and make contact with the Trade Commission.”

The Minister of Trade and Economics cleared his throat as a three dimensional image of the sector of space that included Thorzalene and Earth appeared above the table. “In this case, I reluctantly agree with the Minister of Military Operations. Once the humans have light-speed vessels, they will explore this sector of the universe and make contact with the Inter-Galactic Trade Commission. As with all newly discovered planets, they will be invited to join as full members of the Trade Commission, and a new trade route with Earth will be established. It’s inevitable that some of the space freighter traffic will be diverted to Earth and we will lose jobs that will never be replaced. We have to do whatever it takes to protect our economy and our way of life.”

The President looked at the three-dimensional map above the table as she addressed the Minister of Trade and Economics. “I understand that we might face trade competition from the humans, but we might also benefit by trading with them ourselves. A large-scale military action is our very last option, because I don’t think it’s possible to hide a war from the Trade Commission. They’ll notice.”

Leaning forward, the Minister of Military Operations looked at his colleagues around the table. “If we use fusion weapons, there will be no war, just one massive strike that eliminates the humans as a threat.”

The Minister of Science shook her head. “And how will we explain the nuclear explosions?”

“Years ago, in this very room, we agreed never to tell anyone that our long-range scanners detected intelligent life on that planet,” replied the Minister of Military Operations. “We’ll just say we decided to harmlessly dispose of some weapons of mass destruction on a lifeless planet. Most of the Trade Commission members are bleeding hearts; they want planets to cut back on military spending. They’ll probably thank us for being responsible citizens of the universe.”

The Minister of Science glared at the Minister of Military Operations. “So Thorzalene, the planet that has always prided itself on justice and equality, is going to wipe out an entire civilization, just to keep from losing a few jobs.”

The Minister of Trade and Economics slammed his fist on the table. “We’re not talking about a few jobs! If planets start diverting their freighters to Earth, our transfer facilities will not be used. The consequences will be devastating. Before you start feeling pity for the humans, consider the sacrifices our ancestors made so Thorzalene could be a modern planet with a strong economy.”

Irzak Sullar leaned her head back and ran her fingers through the white hair on her forehead. “What about sending a long-range patrol craft with a stealth configuration? Our technology is more advanced, so we should be able to drop off an infiltration team without being spotted. All they’d have to do is kill the Professor, and return home. Then we could use long- range scanners to send a signal and wipe out the data on his computers.”

“It’s possible,” replied the Minister of Science, “but we’d have to dye their skin, use contact lenses, and make replicas of human external auditory organs. We’d also have to remove two digits from each of the agents’ hands, and reattach them upon their return.”

“I suppose it’s too great a risk,” replied the President. “If one of our agents was injured, he or she might be taken to an Earth medical facility. It wouldn’t take them long to discover that his or her internal organs were very different.”

The President stood to her feet and started pacing. “There must be another option. I’m not prepared to slaughter the entire population of another planet, when their only crime is progress.”

“What about a probe?” asked the Minister of Science.

“We don’t need to send another probe to gather information!” shouted the Minister of Military Operations. He lowered his voice, struggling to control his temper. “We already know enough about the humans. A probe is just another excuse to avoid making a decision.”

The Minister of Science ignored the interruption. “We can design a probe to find Professor Anderson, and deliver a minute dose of Theroxium-Calide.”

She winked the Minister of Military Operations. “We only need a small amount. I’m sure that if someone was to try really hard, he might be able to find some Theroxium-Calide for a worthy cause.” The Inter-Galactic Trade Commission had banned the production, storage, and distribution of Theroxium-Calide, but the military had hidden stockpiles.

The Minister of Military Operations shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’ll see what I can do. It’s possible that when the troops were destroying the remaining stockpiles of Theroxium-Calide, that they might have missed a small amount. No one’s perfect.”

President Irzak Sullar wasn’t comfortable with an assassination, but was relieved there was a better option than destroying the planet. “We have a plan. A probe will kill Professor George Anderson with Theroxium-Calide. When our long-range scanners send a signal to wipe out all the data on his computers, The Light-Speed Equation will die with him.”

Professor George Anderson stopped in front of the restaurant. He looked around to see if his wife Carol was lurking in the shadows, ready to catch him in his sin. Believing he was in the clear, he opened the door.

As soon as he was inside the restaurant, the Professor walked up to a waitress wearing a nametag that read ‘Francine.’

“I think I’m safe.”

Francine shrugged her shoulders. “Bad news Professor, it’s been really busy today, and your favourite table is taken. If you had been here five minutes ago, you could’ve had it. All we have left is a table by the window.”

The Professor knew a window seat increased the likelihood he would be caught, but it was worth the risk. He followed Francine through the glass door that separated the smoking section from the rest of the restaurant. When she tried to hand him a menu he just laughed. “I don’t need that. I’ll have a steak sandwich and fries, a large side order of onion rings and a chocolate sundae for dessert. I’ll also have a coffee, and please make sure I don’t end up drinking that decaffeinated poison.”

Francine smiled and put a hand on her hip. “When was the last time you actually gained a pound?”

“Well, I’m forty-seven years old, and I only weigh five more pounds than the year I started my undergraduate degree in Physics. I was eighteen then.”

“You know,“ replied Francine, “if I even look at a meal like that, I gain thirty pounds.”

“The funny thing is,” replied the Professor, “I’m as skinny as a rake, but my wife’s convinced I’m going to drop dead at any moment from high cholesterol. Ever since she went back to university to become a Dietician, she’s been complaining about what I eat. This is the only place where I can enjoy a good meal in peace and quiet.”

Smoking wasn’t allowed in the faculty dining room, and he suspected one of the professors was a spy reporting back to his wife. She always knew when he had a hamburger and fries instead of a salad.

Forty minutes later he took a final sip from this third cup of coffee, finished off the chocolate sundae, and put a half-empty cigarette package back in his jacket pocket. He walked back to the non-smoking section, and paid for his meal at the counter. He was about to leave, when he froze in his tracks. His wife Carol was walking through the front door. He deftly slipped the cigarette package out of his jacket pocket and dropped it in a plant holder. He hoped she wouldn’t see it behind the wide plastic leaves.

Carol Anderson walked up to her husband and breathed in deeply through her nose. “I smell deep-fried food and cigarette smoke on your clothes. I want to see the receipt. Now.”

Professor Anderson shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I paid cash and I forgot to ask for a receipt.”

She wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Who served your table?”

The Professor pointed at Francine, who was carrying a tray of empty plates back to the kitchen. Carol Anderson stepped in front of Francine and pointed at her husband. “What kind of deep-fried garbage did my husband have for lunch?”

Francine looked at George Anderson as if it was the first time she’d ever seen him. “Hmmm, let’s see. He was table fourteen. He had the spinach salad with low-fat dressing, a small fruit cocktail, and decaffeinated coffee in the non-smoking section.”

Carol Anderson glared at Francine for a moment, then turned and walked out of the restaurant. There was no way to prove it, but she knew the woman was lying. Francine smiled at Professor Anderson. “I’d hate to lose a good customer.”

When George Anderson stepped outside, his wife was waiting for him. “You’re going to have your cholesterol levels checked, and you’re going to have x-rays taken of your lungs. If you won’t believe me that you’re killing yourself with your lousy eating habits and cigarettes, perhaps you’ll believe a doctor.”

“Our children want you to be there when they graduate from university. I want to enjoy watching you play with our grandchildren. I don’t want to show them pictures and say that their grandfather died of heart disease or lung cancer.”

The Professor didn’t reply. There was nothing he could say to improve the situation. After a moment of awkward silence, his wife turned to leave. “I have a class.”

The probe was transported in a Thorzalene military vessel, with a stealth configuration. It wasn’t detected as it approached Earth and the ship’s captain reported that the probe was launched without incident. The first stage of the probe was about the size of a desktop printer.

George Anderson waved at one of the Math professors as he walked across the university campus. “Hey Charlie, I’ve got a question for you.”

The Math Professor raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I normally get paid to answer questions, but since you’re a friend, this one’s free.”

“If you love greasy food and cigarettes, what are the chances of your wife deciding to go back to university, to become a Dietician?”

The Math Professor laughed. “You shouldn’t be talking to me; you should be talking to someone in the Religious Studies Department.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re cursed!”

The second stage of the Thorzalene probe was launched after the first stage passed through the atmosphere. If any scientists saw the first stage explode in a ball of fire they would probably assumed it was a piece of space debris, super-heated as it passed through the atmosphere. It had been designed to self-destruct; leaving no traceable evidence that it had ever existed. The second stage of the probe continued flying towards the pre-programmed coordinates. It was about the size of a small bird.

By the time George Anderson finished teaching his second Physics class of the afternoon, he decided to accept his fate. As soon as he returned to his office, he called the University Hospital.

Carol had already talked to someone at the hospital. Professor Anderson was informed that arrangements had been made for his blood work and x-rays. He was also assured that no staff member at the hospital was willing to falsify the numbers on his cholesterol report, or switch the x-rays of his lungs with someone who had never smoked. The results would be available when he arrived home from the West coast science conference.

Professor Anderson still had some paperwork to do before he went home, so he opened the office window and lit a cigarette. Smoking had been banned on university property several years earlier, but he wasn’t about to let the tree-huggers tell him what he could or could not do in his office. It was bad enough that he had to stand outside to have a smoke at home.

Stage two of the Thorzalene probe disintegrated a thousand feet in the air as it approached the university campus. The final stage of the probe was the size of a fly. It flew directly to Professor George Anderson’s office.

The Thorzalene scientists who designed the probe had decided to scan the university’s databases for maps and blueprints of the campus. The probe would be sent directly to Professor Anderson’s office. The Professor might have visitors in his office, so it was possible a student or another professor might be killed by mistake. It wasn’t a problem, because Theroxuim-Calide would leave no trace and it would appear his visitor died of a heart attack. If someone else was killed by mistake, they could always send another probe.

Professor Anderson felt a slight pinch on the side of his neck and slapped the spot hard. He hated insect bites. It wasn’t the pain of the bite that he found so irritating, it was the itching that followed. The last thing he wanted were flies and mosquitoes in his office. He stood up to close the window, but sat down again when the room started to spin. The first thought that crossed his mind was that he might be dying. How may times had his wife warned him that the greasy food and cigarettes would kill him? Maybe she was right after all.

He reached for his phone to dial 911, but pulled his hand back. If he ended up in the hospital, he wouldn’t be able to present his theory on light-speed travel at the science conference. Perhaps it was just a headache. He decided to sit down and rest a few minutes to see if he felt any better.

Planetary President Irzak Sullar sat at the large oval table and looked at her cabinet ministers. “I just read the latest report on Professor Anderson, and apparently he’s teaching classes. Why is he still alive?”

The Minister of Military Operations spoke first. “Our vessel delivered the probe to the exact coordinates and launched it without any complications.”

The Minister of Science was just as quick to defend her department’s actions. “We entered the exact coordinates in the probe’s guidance system. All indications are that the probe delivered the Theroxium-Calide to Professor Anderson as planned. Special attention has been paid to the local media and we detected no reports of other professors or students dying.”

Irzak Sullar stared at the Minister of Science. “Well, then, what went wrong?”

The Minister of Science hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t thought of what she’s say if the Theroxium-Calide didn’t kill him with the first dose. “Earth and Thorzalene are two different planets, and out bodies are not exactly the same.”

“Thank you for pointing that out to us,” replied the President. “Now, do you or do you not know what the Theroxium-Calide is doing to Professor Anderson?”

The Minister of Science shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. Perhaps humans have a natural resistance to the chemical.”

The President put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Perhaps! Is that all you can say? That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.”

The President stared at the tabletop and fought to control her rising anger. “Send another probe and triple the dosage of Theroxium-Calide. I want him dead!”

The Anderson’s daughter was away on a weekend ski trip and their son was at a friend’s house lifting weights. As he sat across the dining room table from his wife, George Anderson decided it was a good time to raise the subject.

“You know Carol; I don’t think it’s necessary for me to get the blood work done or have x-rays taken of my lungs right now. It’s just that, I have so much to do to get ready for the science conference in Los Angeles. Perhaps I should get the tests done when I get home.”

“Why don’t you just admit it George? You know that the tests will prove I’m right; you’re a walking time bomb. I bet that your cholesterol will be at least nine point oh.”

“Well,” he replied, “I suppose I should have my blood checked for a different reason. I’ve been bitten twice by an insect that I didn’t recognize.”

“Well, that proves it. You’ve eaten so many fries, that now even the insects can smell the grease coming through your pores.”

“Very funny.”

Carol leaned closer and looked directly in her husband’s eyes. “I’m serious. I want you to promise that you won’t find some last-minute excuse to avoid the tests. I’m really concerned about your health.”

The Professor shrugged his shoulders. “OK, I’ll get the tests done tomorrow. But mark my words, my cholesterol levels and my lungs are just fine.”

Carol slowly shook her head. She couldn’t believe her husband was convinced that nothing he was doing would hurt his health. “Let’s make it interesting. If your cholesterol level is higher than 6, and your lungs show the effects of that filthy habit of yours, you will start following a strict diet and give up smoking. But, if your cholesterol is lower than 6 and your lungs are fine, I’ll go to the restaurant of your choice and eat the same meal you’re having…in the smoking section.”

The Professor smiled. “Get ready to eat the greasiest meal of your life.”

His wife smiled back. “Not likely. Get ready to say hello to low-fat salad dressing and good-bye to your cancer sticks”

George Anderson wasn’t sure what the tests would prove, but lately he’d feeling better that he had in years. Perhaps it was it was because he was excited about going to the conference. It was amazing how good the combination of caffeine and adrenaline could make you feel.

It was late in the afternoon when the Thorzalene Minister of Science was called to the President’s office. Normally the President would ask the Minister to sit down, but today she just let her stand in front of the desk. “Our scanners picked up a message stating that Professor Anderson has cancelled classes for two days.”

The Minister of Science sighed with relief. He was finally dying. “Well, I guess the Professor can’t be feeling very well, if he has to cancel classes. Apparently the human body just has a higher resistance to the effects of Theroxium-Calide; but it is killing him. He’s as good as dead.”

The President stood up, and walked around her desk. She stood so close to the Minister of Science, that she could feel the President’s breath on her face. “Professor Anderson didn’t cancel classes because of illness; he cancelled the classes because he’s travelling to the science conference to present his theory on light-speed travel!”

Irzak Sullar turned and walked over to a large window. “A hospital has scheduled a series of health tests for Professor Anderson before he leaves for the conference. At least we’ll have a better idea what effect Theroxium-Calide has on humans.”

“Should I send another probe with Theroxium-Calide?”

“Yes, if you think it will do any good.”

Professor Anderson had a bad habit of forgetting what time it was and rushing to get to classes. That was normal for him. But something had changed; he wasn’t breathing heavily after running across the campus. It made no sense at all. Since he was still eating junk food and smoking, why was his health improving?

He’d been bitten by one of those pesky little insects again. He didn’t feel sick, but he was worried him was how often he was going to the bathroom. He wasn’t an expert on tropical diseases, but he knew diarrhoea could be one of the symptoms. He didn’t live anywhere near a tropical climate, but they could have arrived in crate of bananas or something.

President Irzak Sullar arranged for the results of Professor Anderson’s tests to be translated and delivered to her computer as soon as possible. She stared at the results in disbelief. Moments later she started using language that shocked her assistants. They moved quickly out of her way when she stormed out of her office. They had never seen the President so angry before, and they were sure someone was going to be either demoted or killed.

A few minutes later she pushed aside a surprised receptionist and walked into the Minister of Science’s office. She slammed the door shut behind her. “Theroxium-Calide doesn’t kill humans, it flushes the impurities of out of their internal organs. We’ve made him healthier! The human we were trying to kill, is going to live longer!”

The Minister tried to think of something to say. “Well, we can still use a signal to destroy the data on his computers.”

“What’s the point? At this very moment, the planet’s top scientists are listening to his presentation on light-speed travel, and there’s nothing we can do about it!”

“Do you want my resignation?”

“No, you’re a high-profile official. Someone at the Trade Commission might become curious about why you suddenly resigned and start asking questions. They might discover that we tried to kill Professor Anderson.”

“But that’s only one human out of the entire planet’s population.”

“I know, but Trade-Commission will make it a big issue if they find out. They won’t understand.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to lie, that’s what we’re going to do. First we’ll pretend we just discovered that there’s intelligent life on Earth. Then, we’ll pretend we’re shocked that the humans have discovered The Light-Speed Equation. And finally, we’ll pretend we’re thrilled to have them as new trading partners.”

George Anderson sat in the passenger seat as his wife Carol drove him back from the airport. “I was scared to death. There were hundreds of the world’s top scientists at the conference, and my presentation on light-speed travel was well attended. I’m sure many of the scientists just went out of curiosity, but when I was finished, I got a standing ovation. I was still answering questions three hours after I finished my presentation.”

When they stopped at a red light, Carol leaned over and kissed his cheek. “That’s amazing. When you called, you said that you were going to a meeting with government officials. How did that go?”

“Well, I’ll definitely be working with our government and they’re meeting with the Americans. There’s going to be a joint project. We could never afford to build a light-speed vessel on our own. It will put the British in an awkward position, because they’ll have to decide whether they are going to work with the Europeans or join with us. Apparently I’ve convinced scientists from several countries that light-speed travel is possible and it’s going to create a lot of competition. Before I left, the Russian and Chinese delegates had a private meeting, and I’d bet it wasn’t about the price of rice or vodka.”

“Are you scared you might have started a new cold war?”

“I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about what might happen. It’s inevitable that every new technology will be misused by someone. Jet aircraft carry families on vacations and deliver food supplies to starving nations. They are also used to drop bombs on innocent people. Countries that believe in democracy and freedom use jet aircraft, and so do countries ruled by tyrants. I can’t change human nature.”

“You’ve been talking about your theory on light-speed travel for a long time. Are you sure this is really happening?”

Professor Anderson opened up a briefcase filled with business cards from government representatives, company executives and scientists. “Yeah, it’s really happening.”

As they travelled across the city, George Anderson remembered the bet they’d made. “So, what were my test results like?”

Carol smiled. “I haven’t opened the envelope yet. I was hoping to see the look on your face when you say good-bye to greasy food and cigarettes.”

Carol Anderson parked the car near two restaurants. One restaurant served vegetarian meals and smoking wasn’t allowed. The other restaurant was the Professor’s favourite greasy spoon. She pointed at the glove compartment. “The envelope please.”

The Professor opened the glove compartment and handed the envelope to his wife. He felt unnerved by the smile on her face. He was already beginning to mourn the loss of his favourite foods.

Carol stared silently for a moment after she opened the enveloped, then looked at her husband. “These result can’t be right.”

When the Professor read the results, even he was surprised by what he saw. His cholesterol was only 3.0 and his lungs were fine.”

“You’re going to have to take those tests again George. There’s no way those results are accurate.”

Professor Anderson was grinning from ear to ear. “The question right now isn’t whether or not the results are accurate, the question is, what are we going to have for lunch?”

Professor George Anderson and his wife followed Francine through the glass doors that separated the two sections of the restaurant and entered the smoking area. When they were seated, the Professor ordered a steak sandwich with fries, a large order of onion rings, and real coffee. For dessert he ordered a slice of cheesecake with chocolate syrup and two scoops of ice cream. As the Professor lit his first cigarette, Francine turned to Mrs. Anderson, straining to suppress a smile.

“And what would you like to order?”

Carol glared at her husband, practically choking on her words. “I’ll have the same.”

President Irzak Sullar started at the Minister of Science. She didn’t expect good news from any of her cabinet ministers, especially the Minister of Science. “How many planets did you say are capable of producing Theroxium-Calide?”

The Minister of Science looked at her data pad again, just to make sure she had her facts straight. “We are the only planet that still has facilities capable of producing Theroxium-Calide.”

The President considered the possibilities. “The production of Theroxium-Calide was banned, but this is different. Even the Trade Commission won’t oppose its production for medical purposes. We’ll just have to come up with some explanation of how we found out it doesn’t kill humans, but actually makes them healthier. Perhaps we’ll say someone opposed to Earth joining the Trade Commission tried to poison an Earth ambassador and was caught in the act. It could be arranged.”

The Minister of Science sat down in a chair by the President’s desk and leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Of course, since we’re the only supplier, we’ll be able to charge extremely high prices and the humans will think we’re taking advantage of them. The humans will hate us, but we’ll make a profit.”

President Irzak Sullar stood and walked over to the window, watching the busy traffic in the streets below. She smiled and her shoulders relaxed. “The humans will hate us, but we’ll make a profit. I can live with that.”