“I was thinking,” Mr. Kiku explained, “that it is a good thing that the Hroshii do not read our newspapers.”
CHAPTER XIV
“Destiny? Fiddlesticks!”
MRS. STUART did read newspapers. Greenberg had had great trouble persuading her to come to Capital and to bring her son, because he was not free to tell her why. But he did persuade her and she had agreed to go the following morning.
When Greenberg arrived the next morning to pick them up he found himself persona non grata. She was in a white fury and simply shoved the newspaper into his hand. He glanced at it. “Yes? I saw a copy at the hotel. Nonsense, of course.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell mother,” John Thomas said sullenly, “but she won’t listen,”
“John Thomas, you keep quiet. Well, Mr. Greenberg? What have you to say for yourself?”
Greenberg did not have a good answer. He had tried to call Mr. Kiku as soon as he saw the news story and had been told by Mildred that the boss and Mr. Robbins were with, the Secretary and could not be disturbed. He told her that he would call later, realizing uneasily that trouble was not all at his end.
“Mrs. Stuart, surely you know that news reports are often distorted. There has been no talk of hostages and…”
“How can you say that when it says so right there! That’s an interview with the Secretary of Space. Who knows more about it? You? Or the Secretary?”
Greenberg had his own opinion but did not dare express it. “Please, Mrs. Stuart. Newspaper stories should not be accepted at face value. This wild report has nothing to do with the case. I am simply asking you to come to Capital for a quiet talk with the Under Secretary.”
“Not likely! If the Under Secretary wants to see me, let him come here.”
“Madam, he will, if necessary. Mr. Kiku is an old fashioned gentleman who would not ask a lady to come to him were it not for the press of public affairs. You know that there is an interplanetary conference in progress?”
She answered smugly, “I make it a rule never to pay attention to politics.”
He sighed. “Some of us must. Mr. Kiku is unable to come here today because of that conference. We had hoped that you, as a private citizen, would come to him.”
“Mr. Greenberg, I reluctantly consented. Now I find that you have deceived me. How do I know but what this is a trick? A plot to turn my son over to those monsters?”
“Ma’am, on my honor as an officer of the Federation I assure you…”
“Spare yourself, Mr. Greenberg. Now, if you will excuse me…”
“Mrs. Stuart, I beg you. If you will only…”
“Mr. Greenberg, do not force me to be rude to a guest. But I have nothing more to say.”
Greenberg left. He looked around, intending to bring the boy into the argument, but John Thomas had quietly left. Greenberg went back to his hotel, with no intention of returning to Capital with mission incomplete but judging it useless to argue until she had time to simmer down.
He had his taxi driver drop him on the hotel roof in order to avoid reporters, but a man was waiting there, armed with an interview phone. “Half a mo’, Mr. Commissioner. My name’s Hovey. How about a few words on Secretary MacClure’s announcement?”
“No comment.”
“In other words you agree with it?”
“No comment.”
“Then you disagree?”
“No comment. I’m in a hurry.” This was true; he was anxious to call in and find out what in the name of blue blazing galaxies had happened.
“Just a second, please. Westville has a big local angle. I’d like to get a story before the main office sends heavyweights here to push me aside.”
Greenberg relaxed a little…no sense in antagonizing the press and the fellow had a point; he knew how it felt to have someone senior sent to cope with a problem that had started as his. “Okay. But keep it brief; I really am in a hurry.” He took out cigarettes. “Got a light on you?”
“Sure.” They lighted up, Hovey continued, “People are saying that this blast of the Secretary’s is just a smoke screen and that you have come here to get the Stuart boy and turn him over to the Hroshii people. How about it?”
“No com… No, don’t say that; say this and quote me. No citizen of the Federation ever has been or ever will be surrendered as a hostage to any power whatsoever.”
“That’s official?”
“That’s official,” Greenberg said firmly.
“Then what are you doing here? I understand you are trying to take the Stuart kid and his mother back to Capital. Capital Enclave isn’t legally part of the North American Union, is it? If you got him there, our local and national officials couldn’t protect him.”
Greenberg shook his head angrily. “Any citizen of the Federation is on his home grounds in the Enclave. He has all rights there that he has at home.”
“Why do you want him there?”
Greenberg lied fast and fluently. “John Thomas Stuart has knowledge of the psychology of the Hroshii held by no other human being. We want his help in dealing with them.”
“That’s more like it. ‘Westville Boy Recruited as Diplomatic Aide.’ How’s that for a lead?”
“Sounds good,” Greenberg agreed. “Got enough? I’m in a rush.”
“Sure,” agreed Hovey. “I can pad this to a couple of thousand words. Thanks, Commissioner. See you later.”
Greenberg went down and locked himself in, then turned to the phone, intending to call the department, but it came to life first. Chief Dreiser looked out at him. “Mr. Commissioner Greenberg…”
“How do you do, Chief?”
“Well enough, thank you. But Mr. Greenberg—I’ve just had a call from Mrs. Stuart.”
“Yes?” Greenberg had a sudden wish for one of those pills the boss ate.
“Mr. Greenberg, we always try to cooperate with you gentlemen.”
Greenberg attempted a stop thrust. “So? Were you cooperating when you attempted to kill the Hroshia without waiting for authority?”
Dreiser turned red. “That was a mistake. It has nothing to do with what I must say now.”
“Which is?”
“Mrs. Stuart’s son is missing. She thinks he might be with you.”
“So? She’s mistaken. I don’t know where he is.”
“Is that true, Mr. Commissioner?”
“Chief, I do not tolerate being called a liar.”
Dreiser went doggedly ahead. “Sorry. But I must add this. Mrs. Stuart does not want her son to leave town. The police department backs her up a hundred per cent.”
“Naturally.”
“Don’t mistake me, Mr. Commissioner. You are a very important. official—but you are just another citizen if you get out of line. I read that news story and I didn’t like it.”
“Chief, if you find that I am doing anything illegal, I urge you to do your duty.”
“I shall, sir. I certainly shall.”
Greenberg switched off, started again to call in, and thought better of it. If the boss had new instructions, he would send them…and Kiku despised field agents who chased back to mama whenever there was a slight shift in the wind. He must change Mrs. Stuart’s mind—or hole up here for the winter.
While he was thinking the phone again signaled; he answered and found himself looking at Betty Sorenson. She smiled and said, “This is Miss Smith speaking.”
“Umm…how do you do, Miss Smith.”
“Well, thank you. But busy. I have a client, a Mr. Brown. He is being urged to take a trip. What he wants to know is this: he has a friend at the city of his destination; if he makes this trip, will he be allowed to see his friend?”
Greenberg thought rapidly. The other Hroshii would be around Lummox as thick as flies; it might be dangerous to let the boy go where they were and he was sure Mr. Kiku had not so intended.
Oh, the police could throw a tanglefoot field over the whole space port if necessary! The Hroshii weren’t superhuman. “Tell Mr
. Brown that he will see his friend.”
“Thank you. Uh, Mr. Jones, where could your pilot pick us up?”
Greenberg hesitated. “It would be better for Mr. Brown to make the trip by the commercial lines. Just a moment.” He found the flight schedule folder provided in most hotel rooms. “There is a ship leaving Stateport in about an hour. Could he catch it?”
“Oh, yes. But…well, there is a matter of money.”
“Oh. Suppose I make you a personal loan? You, not Mr. Brown.”
She broke into a grin. “That would be lovely!”
“Have you any suggestion as to how to get it to you?”
Betty did have—a snack shop called The Chocolate Bar across from Central High School. A few minutes later he was waiting in it, sipping a chocolate-and-milk mess. Betty showed up, he passed her an envelope and she left. He stayed there until he could no longer face the contents of his glass, then went back to the hotel.
He waited two hours, then called Mrs. Stuart. “I have just heard that your son left for Capital on his own.”
He waited for her to quiet down, then added, “Mrs. Stuart, I’m still in Westville but am about to fly back to Capital. Would you care to come with me? My ship is faster than the commercial liners.”
Half an hour later they left for Capital.
Mr. Kiku saw John Thomas Stuart first. Old enough to be John Thomas’s grandfather, he treated John Thomas as an equal, thanking him for coming, offering refreshment. He explained briefly that Lummox was unwilling to return home unless John Thomas went along. “It is extremely important to the Hroshii that Lummox return. To us it is important for other reasons.”
“You mean,” John Thomas said bluntly, “that they are going to fight us if I don’t? That’s what the papers say.”
Mr. Kiku hesitated briefly. “They may. But that is not the reason I have consulted you. I doubt if the Hroshii would attempt anything if your friend Lummox opposed it—which I think Lummox would if it was something dangerous to you, such as an attack on this planet.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that, if Lummie has anything to say about it. But why should they listen to him? Uh, is he royal, or something?”
“Perhaps ‘royal’ will do, since we don’t understand their customs. But Lummox’s wishes are important.”
John Thomas shook his head in wonder. “Seems funny. The way I used to boss him around.”
“In any case I am not asking you to save us from a possible war. I am thinking of positive benefits, not negative ones; we want to establish friendly relations with these people. I asked you here to find out your own wishes. If I make it possible for you to go with Lummox to their planet—Hroshijud it is called—what would your answer be? Think it over, you need not answer now.”
John Thomas gulped. “I don’t need to think it over. I’d go, of course.”
“Don’t be hasty.”
“I’m not being hasty. Lummie will need me. He’s never happy with strangers. Anyhow, he wants me to. You don’t think I’d let him down, do you?”
“No. But this is a serious decision. You’ll be going almost a thousand light-years from home.”
John Thomas shrugged. “My great grandfather went there. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Mmm…yes. I keep forgetting your ancestry. But aren’t you interested in knowing what other human beings are going with you? Or even if there are to be any?”
“Huh?” John Thomas thought about it. “Oh, those details will work themselves out. It’s not my business.”
“They will be worked out,” Mr. Kiku answered. He stood up. “Thank you for coming.”
“Not at all, sir. Uh…when do I get to see Lummox?”
Mr. Kiku pursed his lips. “Not right away; I have matters to settle first. In the meantime, enjoy yourself. I’m assigning a man to guide you around and pay your expenses. He will act as bodyguard, too.”
“A bodyguard? What for? I’m grown up.”
“So you are. But, if for no other reason, I don’t want you talking to reporters. Do you mind? I have no authority to tell you not to.”
“Oh no, Mr. Kiku…if it will help.”
“It will help.”
Mr. Kiku had received John Thomas at his desk, Mrs. Stuart he received in a lavish room, one without a conference table and which had been designed by subtle psychologists to impress visitors. Mr. Kiku knew that he was in for a bad time.
He fended her off with tea and formality, forced the talk to trivia. “So good of you to come, madame. Sugar? Lemon?”
“Uh, neither, thank you. Mr. Kiku, I must make clear first off that…”
“Try these little puffs. Did Mr. Greenberg make you comfortable?”
“What? Oh, yes, a nice suite, overlooking the Gardens of Heaven. But Mr. Kiku…”
“I was sorry to ask you to come to me. But I am the prisoner of my job. You understand?” He spread his hands helplessly. “I can’t leave Capital at certain times.”
“That’s understandable, I suppose. Now…”
“Your kindness is appreciated. You must remain, as an official guest, as long as you see fit. Capital is worth seeing, even if one has seen it often…which no doubt you have. I understand that the shopping is excellent, too.”
“Well, as a matter of fact I haven’t seen it before. Some of the shops do look intriguing.”
“Then enjoy it, dear lady. No reason not to mix pleasure with business. Which brings us to business, I suppose. I have been talking with your son.”
“Mr. Kiku…”
“Indulge me, I will be brief. We are sending an extensive cultural and scientific mission to the home planet of the Hroshii. I want to send your son as a special aide. He has agreed to go.” He waited for the explosion.
“Utterly unthinkable! Out of the question!”
“Why, Mrs. Stuart?”
“Mr. Kiku, what sort of inhuman beast are you? I know what you mean…you plan to turn my son, my only son, over to those monstrosities as a hostage. Unspeakable!”
He shook his head. “Ma’am, you have been misled by a wild newspaper story. Have you seen the later story? The Secretary’s speech before the Council?”
“No, but…”
“I will supply a copy. It explains how that nonsense got into print. It also affirms the ancient policy of the Federation, ‘All for One’…against the Galaxy if necessary. In this case your son is that ‘one’; he has many planets behind him. But no such issues arises; your son will join a peaceful mission to a friendly people. He will help build a cultural bridge between two civilized but very different races.”
“Hmmph! The paper said that these Hroshii demanded that you turn my son over to them. Explain that if you can!”
“Difficulties of translation. They asked for your son by name, but on behalf of that Hroshia which was for years part of your own household, Lummox. Because Lummox is deeply attached to your son. This friendship between these two, transcending form and kind and source and mind, is one of the greatest fortunes which has happened to our race since our people first discovered that we were not sole heirs of the Almighty. This unlikely circumstance will let us bridge in one leap a chasm of misunderstanding ordinarily spanned by years of trial and tragic error.” He paused. “One is tempted to think of them as children of destiny.”
Mrs. Stuart snorted. “‘Destiny’! Fiddlesticks!”
“Can you be sure, ma’am?”
“I can be sure of this: my son is not going to the other side of nowhere. In another week he is entering college, which is where he belongs.”
“Is it his education which worries you, ma’am?”
“What? Why, of course. I want him to get a good education. His father set up a trust fund for it; I intend to carry out his wishes.”
“I can put your mind at rest. In addition to an embassy, we will send a cultural mission, a scientific mission, an economics and trade mission, and many specialists, all topflight minds. No single college could hire such an aggregation of talent; even the l
argest institutions of learning would be hard put to match it. Your son will be taught, not casually but systematically. If he earns a degree, it will be awarded by, uh…by the Institute of Outer Sciences.” He smiled. “Does that suit you?”
“Why, I never heard of such a silly arrangement. Anyway, the Institute isn’t a college.”
“It can bestow a degree. Or, if not, we will have its charter amended. But degrees are unimportant, ma’am, the point his that your son will have an unparalleled higher education. I understand that he wishes to study xenic science. Well, not only will his teachers be the finest possible, but also he will live in a new field laboratory of xenology and take part in the research. We know little of the Hroshii; he will labor on the frontiers of science.”
“He’s not going to study xenology.”
“Eh? He told Mr. Greenberg that he meant to.”
“Oh, he has that silly idea but I have no intention of indulging him. He will study some sound profession—the law, probably.”
Mr. Kiku’s brows went up. “Please, Mrs. Stuart,” he said plaintively. “Not that. I am a lawyer—he might wind up where I am.”
She looked at him sharply. He went on, “Will you tell me why you plan to thwart him?”
“But I won’t be… No, I see no reason why I should. Mr. Kiku, this discussion is useless.”
“I hope not, ma’am. May I tell a story?” He assumed consent and went on, “These Hroshii are most unlike us. What is commonplace to us is strange to them, and vice versa. All we seem to have in common is that both races are intelligent.
“To us they seem unfriendly, so remote that I would despair, were it not for one thing. Can you guess what that is?”
“What? No, I can’t”
“Your son and Lummox. They prove that the potential is there if we will only dig for it. But I digress. More than a hundred years ago a young Hroshia encountered a friendly stranger, went off with him. You know our half of that story. Let me tell you their side, as I have learned it with the help of an interpreter and our xenologists. This little Hroshia was important to them; they wanted her back very badly. Their patterns are not ours; they interweave six distinct sorts of a genetic scheme we will be a long time understanding.