Mind Worms
the Martians had said. Not wise for Earthmen, at any rate.

Because of the peculiar vapor there never had been electronic or warp communication with Venus. So far, the only message from below those clouds had come a month before to one of the patiently waiting, patiently capsule-dropping ships—the permission to land one unarmed ambassador. The Ambassador saw now that communication this time had been by the same means. A rocket had come up through the clouds, trailing a wire, and had been caught in the great cable net extended behind the space ship.

"I had the wire plugged immediately," the sweating captain said. "Expected to tell them to wait a minute and I'd put the Ambassador on. But they're not listening to us, just telling us. And there's a time limit. I would have had a line run to your suite if I'd known there was a time limit, but I should have known there'd be a time limit, I should have known how they act, all these races, because we're so feeble and stupid compared—"

The man almost was gibbering. The Ambassador slapped his shoulder heavily and stopped him. The Ambassador wanted a slap himself and his hand missed the first time as he reached for the loud-speaker stud.

The voice came instantly, so mechanical and uninflected that it occurred to him that a machine had spoken into a recording machine. The Venusians must be so unearthly as to be unable to manage Earth sounds, if they made sounds at all.

"... authority will advise him on the question of trade with Earth. He will be freed one hour thereafter. Your ship must remain in the same position meanwhile. The ambassador from Earth will leave your ship in precisely eighteen minutes proceeding directly downward. He will be picked up by our ship within the clouds. In this ship a representative of fifth authority will advise him on the question of trade with Earth. He will be freed one hour thereafter. Your ship must remain in the same position meanwhile. The ambassador from Earth will leave your ship in precisely eighteen minutes proceeding directly—"

The Ambassador snapped the stud, his teeth gritted hard against a trembling. He was not even to land upon the alien planet, then. Not even to talk to the head of government but with "a representative of fifth authority." It was so condescending, so contemptuous—and so deserved, of course, he thought, staring at the captain who stared wild-eyed. You wanted to run. You wanted to hide. Already you felt them inside your mind ruthlessly peering, destroying. As crazy as an 
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