The Perfect Host by Theodore Sturgeon

wanted us to.”
    The boy’s real sharp tonight
, thought Dr. Simmons, and added to himself,
He’s such a swell, sincere character. I hate to see him go through all this
. “And why does all this make you squelch the Board’s investigation and pick it up yourself?”
    “I know how slick you are,” said the colonel doggedly. “You just might talk a jury or a court-martial out of shooting you. I don’t see how you could, but I don’t see how you could have done any of this either.” He waved a hand around the secret lab. “You won’t talk your way out of it with me.”
    “You’re my judge, then, my jury. My executioner, too?”
    “I’m … your brother,” said the colonel in a low voice, “and, like always, I want you to get what you deserve.”
    “I could puddle up and bawl like a baby,” said Dr. Simmons suddenly, warmly. “Let’s stop playing around, Leroy, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
    “Is it true you’ve been working with the Outsiders?”
    “Yes, you idiot!”
    The colonel slumped back and said glumly: “Then that settles it. Go ahead and talk if you want to. It can’t make any difference now.” He looked at his watch.
    The scientist rose and went to a wall panel, which he pulled out, revealing a compact tape-recording outfit. From a rack above it he selected a reel, set it on the peg, and drew the end of the tape into the self-threader. Without switching on, he returned to his chair.
    “Just a couple of preliminaries, Leroy, and then you can have the whole story. I have done what I have done because of what you used to call ‘dewy-eyed idealism.’ It has worked. We live now in a unified world. It must remain unified until the threat of the Outsiders is done with; it has no alternative. I don’t think that the Outsiders will be removed for a while yet, and the longer the world lives this way, the harder it will be for it to go back to the old cut-up, mixed-up way of life it has followed for the last fifteen thousand years or so.
    “I’ll tell you what will happen from now on. The space station will be completed and put into action. When the point of boredom is reached with that, new fuel will be developed. Shortly afterward, the three Outsiders will put out their hovering bombs again. It’ll throw the world into a panic, but with the station and the new fuel and the whole world working at it, a fighting ship will leave the station—outbound.
    “It will sling some torps at the Outsiders, and they won’t go off, or they’ll miss, or they’ll explode prematurely. The Outsiders won’t hit back. The warship will move in close, and when it gets close enough to do real damage, it will get a message.
    “This message will be broadcast on the three most likely frequencies, and signals will go out all over the other bands advertising those three frequencies. The message will start like this: ‘Stop and listen. This is the Outsider.’ This will be repeated in English, French, Spanish, German, Arabic, and, for good measure, Esperanto. This is the message.”
    He rose again, put his hand on the switch, smiled, and turned toface the colonel. “Funny … this was designed only to speak to the future. And you’re the first to hear it.”
    “Why is that funny?”
    “You’re the past.” He flipped the switch. “You’ll pardon the tone of it,” he said gently. “I had a chance to make a deep purple oration, and I find I ramble on like an old lady over her knitting.”
    “You?”
    “Me. The Outsider. Listen.”
    This is the message, as it came from the tape in Dr. Simmons’ leisurely mellow voice.
    I am the Outsider. Do not fear me. There will be no battle. I am your friend. Hear me out.
    I am four ships and a noise in the Jansky radiations. The ships are not ships, and they came from Earth, not from outside. The Jansky signals do not come from the stars. Listen.
    I am one man, one man only, without helpers, without any collaborators, except possibly thinkers—a little