"Certainly, sir."
"Uh, Doctor.. . there was one more thing."
"Yes, sir?"
"You made an odd remark to. Mr. Greenberg last night supposedly a joke... or perhaps an accident. You said something about Earth being 'volatilized'."
For a moment the Rargyllian said nothing. When he did speak he changed the subject "Tell me, sir, in what way does logic state that your 'Ugly Duckling' is a swan?"
Mr. Kiku spoke carefully. "A Terran ship visited a strange planet at the time defined by your data. The dominant race could have been Hroshii; the identification is not exact except as to time. A life form was removed and brought here. This being is still alive after more than one hundred twenty years; Mr. Greenberg has gone to fetch it for identification by your principals."
Dr. Ftaeml said softly, "It must be. I did not believe. it but it must be." He went on, louder and quite cheerfully, "Sir, you have made me happy."
"Indeed?"
"Very. You have also made it possible for me to speak freely."
"You have always been free to speak, Doctor, so far as we were concerned. I do not know what instructions you have from your clients."
"They have placed no check on my tongue. But... You are aware, sir, that the customs of a race are implicit in its speech?"
"I have sometimes had cause to suspect so," Mr. Kiku answered dryly.
"To be sure. If you visited a friend in a hospital, knowing him to be dying, knowing that you could not help him, would you speak to him of his doom?"
"No. Not unless he brought up the subject."
"Precisely! Speaking to you and to Mr. Greenberg I was perforce bound by your customs."
"Dr. Ftaeml," Mr. Kiku said slowly, "let us be blunt. Am I to believe that you are convinced that this single foreign ship could do a serious damage to this planet, with its not inconsiderable defenses?"
"I will be blunt, sir. Should the Hroshui eventually conclude that, through the actions of this planet or some member of its culture, their Hroshia had died or was forever lost, Earth would not be damaged; Earth would be destroyed."
"By this one ship?"
"Unassisted."
Mr. Kiku shook his head. "Doctor, I am sure that you are convinced of what you say. I am not. The extent and thoroughness of the defenses of this, the leading planet of the Federation, cannot possibly be known to you. But should they be so foolish they will learn that we have teeth."
Ftaeml looked sorrowful. "In all the many tongues of civilization I find no words to convince you. But believe me... anything that you could do against them would be as futile as throwing stones at one of your modern warships."
"We shall see. Or, fortunately, we shall not see. I do not like weapons, Doctor; they are the last resort of faulty diplomacy. Have you spoken to them of the willingness of the Federation to accept them into the Community of Civilizations?"
"I have had grave difficulty in explaining to them the nature of your offer."
"Are they, then, so hopelessly warlike?"
"They are not warlike at all. How can I put it? Are you warlike when you smash... strike... swat... yes, swat a fly? The Hroshii are practically immortal by your standards, and even by mine. They are so nearly invulnerable to all ordinary hazards that they tend to look down... how is your idiom? ... 'Olympian'. they look down on us from Olympian heights. They cannot see any purpose in relations with lesser races; therefore your proposal was not taken seriously, though, believe me, I put it."
"They sound stupid," Kiku answered sourly.
"Not true, sir. They evaluate your race and mine most exactly. They know that any culture possessing star travel has at least some minor skill in the physical arts. They know therefore that you will regard yourselves as powerful. For that reason they are even now contemplating a display of force, to convince you that you must forthwith deliver up their Hroshia... they think of this as being like a goad to a draft animal, a sign which he will be able to understand."
"Hmm... You know the nature of this demonstration?"
"I do. My trip this morning to their ship is to persuade them to wait They intend to touch lightly the face of your satellite, leave on it an incandescent mark perhaps a thousand miles long, to convince you that they uh... 'ain't foolin'."
"I am not impressed. We could order a force of ships and make such a sign ourselves. Not that we would."
"Could you do it with one ship, in a matter of seconds, without fuss, from a distance of a quarter million miles?"
"You think they could?"
"I am sure of it, A minor demonstration. Mr. Under Secretary, there are novae in their part of the sky which were not accidents of nature."
Mr. Kiku hesitated. If it all were true, then such a demonstration might serve his own needs by causing the Hroshul to show their hand. The loss of a few worthless lunar mountains would not matter... but it would be difficult to evacuate such an area of even the few who might be in it. "Have you told them that our Moon is inhabited?"
It is not inhabited by their Hroshia, which is all that matters to them."
"Hmm... I suppose so. Doctor, could you suggest to them, first, that you may be about to find their Hroshia, and second, that their Hroshia may be somewhere on our satellite, which is why the search has taken so long?"
The Rargyllian simulated a wide human grin. "Sir, I salute you. I shall be happy to convey such a suggestion. I am sure there will be no demonstration of force."
"Good health, Doctor. I'll be in touch with you."
"Your good health, sir."
On his way back Mr. Kiku realized that he had felt not a single twinge in the presence of the medusoid why, the blighter was rather likable, in a horrid way. Dr. Morgan was certainly an adroit hypnotherapist.
His work basket was choked as usual; he put the Hroshii out of mind and worked happily. Late that afternoon communications informed him that they were holding a circuit for Mr. Greenberg. "Put him on," Mr. Kiku said, feeling that at last the pieces were falling into place.
"Boss?" Greenberg began.
"Eh? Yes, Sergei. What the deuce are you, looking upset about?"
"Because I'm wondering how I'm going to like it as a private in the Outer Legion."
"Quit trying to break it gently. What happened?"
"The bird has flown."
"Flown? Where?"
"I wish I knew. The most likely place is a forest preserve west of here."
"Then why are you wasting time telling me? Get in there and find it."
Greenberg sighed. "I knew you would say that. Look, boss, this haystack has over ten million acres in it, tall trees, tall mountains, and no roads. And the local police chief is there ahead of me, with all his own men and half the sheriffs deputies in the state. He's ordered them to kill on sight and has posted a reward for the ship making the kill."
"What?"
"Just what I said. Your authorization to carry out the judgment of the court came through; the cancellation of it got lost... how, I don't know. But the acting chief is an old relic with the soul of a file clerk; he points to the order and won't budge... he won't even let me call them on police frequency. With our intervention withdrawn I haven't an ounce of authority to force him."
"You are accepting that, I suppose?" Mr. Kiku said bitterly. "Just waiting for it to blow up in your face?"
"Just about. I've got a call in for the mayor-he's out of town. Another for the governor-he's in a closed grand jury session. And another for the chief forest ranger-I think he's out after the reward. As soon as I, switch off I'm going to twist the arm of the acting chief until he sees the light and..."
"You should be doing that now."
"I won't dally. I called to suggest that you turn on heat from back there. I need help."
"You'll get it"
"Not just to reach the governor, not just to start a fresh intervention. Even after we reach this wild police chief and persuade him to call off his dogs I'll still need help. Ten million acres of mountains, boss... it means men and ships, lots of men, lots of ships. It's no job for one man with a brief case. Besides, I'm going to join the Outer Legion."