The Star Beast (22 page)

The Rargyllian answered, “Permit me to say, sir, that by putting it into ‘more usual language’ you have missed the meaning. I have been discussing it with her in her own tongue.”

“Eh? Has she learned so quickly?”

“She has long known it. The Hroshii, Mr. Under Secretary, know their own language almost from the shell. One may speculate that this use of language almost on the instinctive level is one reason, perhaps
the
reason, why they find other languages difficult and never learn to use them well. The Hroshia speaks your language hardly as well as one of your four-year-old children, though I understand that she began acquiring it one of your generations ago. But in her own language she is scathingly fluent…so I learned, much to my sorrow.”

“So? Well, let her talk. Words can’t hurt us.”

“She
has
talked…she has given orders to the commander of the expedition to recover her pet at once. Otherwise, she states, she will remain here and continue raising ‘John Thomases.’”

“And,” Greenberg added, “the commander has handed us an ultimatum to produce John Thomas Stuart at once…or else.”

“‘Or else’ meaning what I think it means?” Kiku answered slowly.

“The works,” Greenberg said simply. “Now that I’ve seen their ground craft I’m not sure but what they can.”

“You must understand, sir,” Ftaeml added earnestly, “that the commander is as distressed as you are. But he must attempt to carry out the wishes of the Hroshia. This mating was planned more than two thousand of your years ago; they will not give it up lightly. He cannot allow her to remain…nor can he force her to leave. He is very much upset.”

“Aren’t we all?” Mr. Kiku took out two more pills. “Dr. Ftaeml, I have a message for your principals. Please convey it exactly.”

“I shall, sir.”

“Please tell them that their ultimatum is rejected with contempt. Please…”

“Sir! I beg of you!”

“Attend me. Tell them that and do not soften it. Tell them that we tried in every way to help them, that we succeeded, and that they have answered kindness with threats. Tell them that their behavior is unworthy of civilized people and that the invitation to join the Community of Civilizations is withdrawn. Tell them that we spit in their faces…find an idiom of equal strength. Tell them that free men may die, but they are never bullied.”

Greenberg was grinning widely and clasping both hands in the ancient sign of approval. Dr. Ftaeml seemed to grow pale under his outer chitin.

“Sir,” he said, “I greatly regret being required to deliver this message.”

Kiku smiled icily. “Deliver it as given. But before you do, find opportunity to speak to the Hroshia Lummox. You can do so?”

“Most assuredly, sir.”

“Tell her that the commander of the expedition, in his zeal, seems bent on killing the human, John Thomas Stuart. See that she understands what is threatened.”

The Rargyllian arranged his mouth in a broad smile. “Forgive me, sir; I underestimated you. Both messages will be delivered, in the proper order.”

“That is all.”

“Your good health, sir.” The Rargyllian turned to Greenberg, put a loose-jointed arm around his shoulders. “My brother Sergei, we have already found our way together out of one tight maze. Now, with the help of your spiritual father, we shall find our way out of another. Eh?”

“Right, Doc.”

Ftaeml left. Kiku turned to Greenberg and said, “Get the Stuart boy here. Get him at once, yourself, personally. Umm…bring his mother, too. He’s under age, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Boss, what’s the plan? You aren’t going to turn him over to them?…after that wonderful kick in the teeth you handed them?”

“Of course I am. But on my own terms. I don’t intend to let those animated pool tables think they can push us around, We’ll use this to get what we want. Now get going!”

“I’m gone.”

Mr. Kiku stayed at his desk, checking papers with part of his mind while letting his subconscious feel out the problem of Lummox. He had a strong hunch that tide was at flood…for humans. It was necessary to judge how to ride it. He was in this revery when the door opened and the Most Honorable Mr. Roy MacClure walked in. “There you are, Henry! Pull yourself together, man… Beulah Murgatroyd is coming to call.”

“Beulah who?”

“Beaulah Murgatroyd.
The
Beulah Murgatroyd.”

“Should I know?”

“What? Man, don’t you ever watch stereovision?”

“Not if I can possibly avoid it.”

MacClure shook his head indulgently. “Henry, you don’t get around enough. You bury yourself in here and push your little buttons and don’t even know what is going on in the world.”

“Possibly.”

“Positively. You’re out of touch, man…it’s a good thing you don’t have to deal with people.”

Mr. Kiku permitted himself a wintry smile, “I suppose so.”

“I’ll bet you three to one you don’t know who is ahead in the World Series.”

“The World Series? That’s baseball, isn’t it? I’m sorry but I haven’t even had time to follow the cricket matches of late years.”

“See what I mean? Though how you can mention cricket in the same breath with baseball… Never mind. Since you don’t know who the famous Beulah Murgatroyd is, I’ll tell you. She’s Pidgie-Widgie’s mother, so to speak.”

“‘Pidgie-Widgie’?” Mr. Kiku echoed.

“You’re pulling my leg. The creator of the Pidgie-Widgie stories for children. You know—
Pidgie-Widgie on the Moon
,
Pidgie-Widgie Goes to Mars
,
Pidgie-Widgie and the Space Pirates
.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“That’s hard to believe. But you don’t have any kids, do you?”

“Three.”

But Mr. MacClure was still talking. “Now she’s taken Pidgie-Widgie on the air and it’s really something. For the kids of course but so comical that the grown-ups follow it, too. You see, Pidgie-Widgie is a puppet about a foot high. He goes zooming through space, rescuing people and blasting pirates and having a grand ole time…the kids love him. And at the end of each installment Mrs. Murgatroyd comes on and they have a bowl of Hunkies together and talk. You like Hunkies?”

Mr. Kiku shuddered. “No.”

“Well, you can just pretend to eat them, I suppose. But it is the biggest breakfast-food show on the air, reaches everybody.”

“And this is important?”

“Important? Man, do you know how many people eat breakfast every morning?”

“No. Not too many, I hope. I wish I had not.”

Mr. MacClure glanced at his watch. “We’ll have to hurry. The technicians are setting up the gear now. She’ll be here any moment.”

“Technicians?”

“Didn’t I say? Mrs. Murgatroyd will interview us, with Pidgie-Widgie in her lap and taking part. Then they’ll patch it into the show. A wonderful boost for the department.”

“
No!
”

“Eh? Mr. Kiku, did I understand you correctly?”

“Mr. Secretary,” Mr. Kiku said tensely, “I couldn’t possibly do that. I… I’m subject to stage fright.”

“What? Why, that’s absurd! You helped me open the Triangular Conference. You spoke without notes for thirty minutes.”

“That’s different. That’s shop talk, with other professionals.”

The Secretary frowned. “I hate to insist, if it really makes you nervous. But Mrs. Murgatroyd asked for you especially. You see…” MacClure looked mildly embarrassed. “…Pidgie-Widgie preaches racial tolerance and so forth. Brothers under the skin…the sort of thing we all want to encourage. So?”

Mr. Kiku said fimly, “I’m sorry.”

“Come now! Surely you’re not going to force me to insist?”

“Mr. Secretary,” Kiku answered quietly, “you will find that my job description does not require me to be a stereovision actor. If you will give me a written order, I will submit it to our legal bureau for opinion, then answer you officially.”

Mr. MacClure frowned. “Henry, you can be a stubborn little beast, can’t you? I wonder how you got so high in the heap?”

Mr. Kiku did not answer; MacClure went on, “I won’t let you pull the rule book on me; I’m too old a fox. Though I must say I didn’t think you would do that to me.”

“Sorry, sir. I really am.”

“So am I. I’ll try to. convince you that it is important to the department, whether a civil servant can be ordered to do it or not. You see, Beulah Murgatroyd is the power behind ‘The Friends of Lummox.’ So…”

“‘The Friends of Lummox’?”

“I knew you would see it differently. After all, you’ve been handling that whoop-te-do. Therefore…”

“What in heaven’s name are ‘The Friends of Lummox’?”

“Why, you set up the original interview with them yourself. But if I hadn’t happened to lunch with Wes Robbins, we might have missed the boat on it.”

“I seem to recall a memorandum. A routine matter.”

“Mrs. Murgatroyd is
not
routine, I’ve been trying to tell you. You precedent-and-protocol boys lose touch with the people. If you don’t mind my saying so, that’s why you never quite get to the top.”

“I don’t mind in the least,” Mr. Kiku said gently.

“Eh?” The Secretary looked slightly embarrassed. “I mean, there’s a place for a grass-roots politician, like me, with his finger on the pulse…though I admit I don’t have your special training. You see?”

“There is work for both our talents, sir. But go on. Perhaps I did ‘miss the boat’ in this instance. The ‘Friends of Lummox’ memorandum must have come through before the name meant anything to me.”

“Probably. I wasn’t criticizing your attention to duty, Henry. Fact is, you work too hard…the universe won’t run down if you don’t wind it. But about this F. of L. deal—we intervened in some silly case out west; you know about it, you sent one of our people—the case turned out to be about his Hoorussian Lummox, The court’s verdict…
our
verdict, you might say, was to destroy the beast. By the way, Henry, have you disciplined the man responsible?”

“No, sir.”

“Why the delay?”

“He won’t be disciplined, sir. He was perfectly right, on the evidence.”

“I don’t see it that way. Better send his file jacket to my office. I want to consider it myself.”

“Sir,” Mr. Kiku said softly, “were you thinking of reversing me on a matter of administrative discipline?”

“Eh? I intend to review the matter.”

“Because if you are, sir, you can have my resignation now. My usefulness will be at an end.”

“What? Henry, don’t be nasty.” The Secretary drummed on Mr. Kiku’s desk. “Confound it, man, let’s be frank with each other. I know that you career men can make it hard for an appointee if you try… I didn’t get into politics yesterday. But as long as I am holding the sack, I intend to have discipline around here. My privilege?”

“Yes…your privilege.”

“And my responsibility. Probably you are right about this man, whoever he is…you’re usually right, or we couldn’t keep things going. But it is my responsibility to review things whenever I think it necessary. However, there is no call for you to talk about resigning until I actually do reverse you. Since you have forced the issue, if I do find it necessary to reverse you on this, I’ll ask for your resignation. But until I do, keep your shirt on. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough. I was hasty, Mr. Secretary. The file jacket will be on your desk.”

“On second thought, don’t bother. If you are carrying one of your favorites…”

“I have no favorites, Mr. MacClure. I dislike them all, impersonally.”

“Sometimes I think you hate yourself. Now where were we? Oh yes! Well, when we made that terrible bust about the Hoorussian, Mrs. Murgatroyd saw a chance to do a good deed. Oh, I suppose she was out to pep up her program, but that’s beside the point. Right away, Pidgie-Widgie started telling all his little friends about this. terrible thing and asked them all to write in and join the Friends of Lummox. She got over three million replies in the first twenty-four hours. By now half the kids on this continent and nobody knows how many elsewhere are ‘Friends of Lummox,’ pledged to protect him from persecution.”

“Her,” corrected Mr. Kiku.

“Eh?”

“I beg your pardon. I suppose neither term is correct. The Hroshii come in six assorted sexes. You can call Lummox either ‘him’ or ‘her’…we really need new, words. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t to me,” agreed MacClure. “But if we had actually put the quietus on this Lummox, I believe the kids would have started a revolution. I really do. Not to mention the adults who are Pidgie-Widgie fans. Even so, the department got a black eye out of it. But Beulah Murgatroyd is willing to go along with a deal to help us out. She interviews us and I answer the general questions and you back me on the details—all about how the department is careful to protect the rights of our non-human friends and how everybody ought to be tolerant—the usual line. Then Pidgie-Widgie asks what happened to Lummox and you tell the kiddies how Lummox was really sort of a fairy prince in disguise…or princess…and how Lummox has gone away to his home in the sky. It will be terrific.”

MacClure added, “That’s all you have to do. They patch in a shot of Lummox getting into the Hoorussian ship and waving goodbye. Then we all eat a bowl of Hunkies—don’t worry, I’ll see that your bowl is empty!—and Pidgie-Widgie sings his ‘Skylarker’ song. End. It won’t take twenty minutes and it will be a big thing for the department. Okay?”

“No.”

“Now, Henry… All right, you won’t even have to
pretend
to eat Hunkies.”

“No.”

“Henry, you’re impossible. Don’t you agree that it is our business to help train up the kids to understand their responsibilities and have right attitudes in this modern age—the age of the Community of Civilizations?”

“No, sir, I do not. That is the business of parents and educators, not of government. This department has more than it can do just to try to hold things together in the face of ever-increasing xenic problems.” Mr. Kiku added to himself: even if I did agree, I wouldn’t do it by eating Hunkies!

“Hmm… A narrow attitude, Henry. A bureaucratic one, if I may say so. You know perfectly well that we are in hot water about this Hoorussian thing from other directions, too, with The Society for the Preservation of the Status Quo screaming for isolation and the Keep Earth Human League jumping on us. It gets the Council uneasy. Along comes a chance to build up public opinion against such crackpots and you won’t even help. You don’t have the Status Quo people and the Human-Earth jokers bothering you—because I keep them off your neck.”