"Pois sim. I do that," said Kennedy. "Nobody warned us the W.F. would send a rumdum as my replacement."
Abreu sighed. "Let us hope this is just a temporary aberration. Everyone liked Senhor Glumelin when he arrived four moons ago. He did the work we gave him competently. When things went wrong, he just said, 'Eto nichyevo!' and went on to the next task. In any case, that will be Herculeu's problem."
"Gorchakov seems to be trying to help," said Kennedy. Afanasi Gorchakov, the big, scowling, black-haired customs inspector, had taken Glumelin's elbow and was speaking in his ear. Fragments of heavily consonantal Russian phrases floated to the watchers' ears. Presently he led Glumelin gently away.
Abreu shook a pudgy forefinger. "That Gorchakov will bear watching. He is power-mad. We had better speak to Keshavachandra; he won't retire until next year, and as magistrate he'll be the only one with authority—Yes, Herculeu?"
Castanhoso came up with the same troubled expression he had worn since emerging from the building."Senhores," he said tensely, "I must speak. Something has come in from Gorbovast."
"Eh?" said Kennedy. "Are we after getting the head of another meddling Terran missionary, packed in salt?"
Castanhoso shook his head. "Here! Read, por favor." He handed over a sheet of yellow Krishnan paper, which bore a text in the Portuguese language of the Brazilian-dominated Terran space organization, the Viagens Interplanetarias, but in spidery Krishnan handwriting. It read:
The most illustrious Senhor W. D. Kennedy,
Comandante
Novorecife Spaceport.
Most excellent Senhor:
I am reliably informed that a Doutora Alicia Dyckman, who traversed Majbur three moons ago en route to Kalwm for purposes of scientific study, is held captive by Khorosh, Heshvavu ofZhamanak. I have no further details.
Of Your Lordship, very politely,
Gorbovast bad-Sár
Commissioner of King Eqrar of
Gozashtand to the city of Majbur.
"Hell!" said Kennedy. "A fine time, amid a change of administrations."
"You're Comandante until midnight," said Abreu. "Tomorrow, if Glumelin is lying in bed with an ice bag on his head, you'll be acting Comandante until he recovers."
"It's the silly woman's own fault," Kennedy frowned. "I warned her she'd be on her own, as we have no treaties with those southern nations. But no, she had to record the Khaldoni dialects and measure people's skulls and compare their social systems with that of Dur."
"Well, what shall we do?" said Castanhoso.
"Are we obliged to do anything?" said Kennedy.
"We can't just sit and do nothing! It would be a disgrace to let this primitive tropical potentate feed such a beautiful woman to his pet shan."
"Beautiful, maybe; but an incorrigible meddler and as warm as an icicle. Serve her right if we left her to her fate."
"Whether we like some Ertsu's personality should not be a factor in whether we help him," said Castanhoso.
"Neither," replied Kennedy, "should his—or in this case her—physical appearance. No; we warned her and washed our hands of her expedition. So we have, strictly speaking, no responsibility."
Castanhoso: "You cannot be so callous, Comandante! We must at least send a letter of protest to this Khorosh."
"Well," said Kennedy reluctantly, "I suppose we really should, before the American government hears of the case. She's backed by some important organizations."
"I agree," said Abreu. "The problem is, how to get such a letter there? The Mejrou Qurardena does not deliver parcels so far south."
"What's all this?" said a deep, musically resonant voice. A lean, very tall man of Negroid race, black of skin and kinky of hair, loomed up. "Have Fergus and his oriental tourists got into trouble already?"
"Hello, Percy," said Kennedy. "Read this."
Percy Kuruman Mjipa, Oxon., born a Mangwato in Botswana and now a Terran consul on Krishna, awaiting his new assignment, frowned at the letter. Mjipa's black wife, almost as tall as he and massive, tried to read over his shoulder.
With a snort, Mjipa handed back the letter. "Blasted cheek! This Khorosh, I mean. We keep our hands off these beggars, so they think they can do as they like with our people. I'd—I'd—Well, I'd do something, I assure you, and to hell with Interplanetary Council rules against imperialism."
Kennedy: "Do you know this Alicia Dyckman, Percy? She was working in Dur when you were at Baianch."
Mjipa shrugged. "I met her a couple of times. Can't say I much liked her; but that has nothing to do with the case. It's a matter of principle."
Abreu said: "We were wondering how to get a stiff letter of protest to Zhamanak—"
"My dear fellow, that's no problem. I'll carry the letter in person, since my assignment to Balhib isn't yet final."
"Percy!" cried Mjipa's wife. "You can't go off, just like that!"
"Can't I? Just watch."
"But you promised to stay out of trouble!"
"Can't be helped, darling," said the black man.
"Certainly it can. We could hire—"
"No, my dear, we Ertsuma must stick together. Can't let the side down, you know."
"But you needn't personally—"
"Matter of Terran honor. If you think I'll sit on my arse while these bloody barbarians mistreat a Terran woman, you can jolly well think again!"
"Oh, you and your silly notions of honor!"
"Now, now, Victoria," said Kennedy. "We don't want another of these public arguments. Bad for our image with the Krishnans." The Comandante indicated a little knot of native guests: Sivird bad-Fatehán, who ran the outfitting shop in Novorecife, and several of his local friends. Turning to Mjipa, Kennedy continued: "Besides, Percy, I don't think you 're just the man for the job." Mjipa opened his mouth to protest, but Kennedy continued smoothly. "You're our intrepid hero, but this job needs diplomatic finesse. Delicacy is not your strong point. You don't really like Krishnans—"
"That's not so at all!" Mjipa broke in hotly. "Some of my best friends—"
"You lump them all together as a pack of benighted 'natives' and bull your way through like a wild bishtar. If you tried that with the Khaldonians, telling these kinglets to go jump in the Banjao Sea, and trying to rescue Dyckman by lowering her from a window with bed sheets, both of you would likely wind up dead."
Mjipa mastered his indignation. "Whom, then, could you send?"
"Let's see ... ibn-Ayub is in Katai-Jhogorai. Kline is on his way to Alvid in Suruskand ..." Kennedy frowned in perplexity. Then his face cleared. "It looks as if Ishimoto were the only one available. Oh, Masanobu!"
As the consul-designate to Dur approached, Mjipa muttered: "If I know Masanobu, he'll have a dozen good reasons why he couldn't possibly go to Kalwm. He's fine for routine work, but for something like this ..."
Mjipa's voice trailed off as Masanobu Ishimoto came up.
When Kennedy explained the situation, Ishimoto bowed, saying:"Oh, I am so sorry, Comandante! You know my ship for Baianch leaves in a few days, and all arrangements have been made. I plan to depart tomorrow; and if I miss that ship,. I might not get another for moons. We must not leave the consulate there closed so long, with Tashian threatening his neighbors. I fear a journey to Kalwm would be impossible."
Kennedy mused: "We might send Percy back to Baianch in your place—" but both consuls protested so vehemently that Kennedy gave in.