The Venusians were fairly well humanoid, if you don’t mind the blue skin and the extra set of arms. But we didn’t trust them too much; they weren’t, after all, human, and you can never tell what an extraterrestrial will do next.
That unpleasant but painfully true fact explains why I had a job. Someone had to watch the Venusians; and I did, or tried to. I had a carefully-nurtured spy-system (consisting mostly of Hilary Bowie), and I had some contacts here and there who—well, there’s no point going into details which might better well be kept out of the open.
But there was a revision of the Earth-Venus treaty coming up next month, and I had been warned from upstairs to keep a double patrol out. Before we committed ourselves to yet another alliance with Venus, we wanted to make thoroughly sure that we weren’t tying ourselves into knots. The Venusians were too shifty to go signing peace treaties just like that.
And now this.
“You know the scoop on this, don’t you?” I asked. “If we don’t find out just what the hell is going on in that building, and stop it before that treaty gets signed, we may find that we’ve handed Earth over to the Venusians on a stainless-steel platter.”
Hilary nodded. “I’ll be in there digging, Chief. Meantime you can keep the pet.”
“Thanks,” I said. I buzzed Cindy. “Send in Mr. Garvey, will you, dear?”
As Garvey entered, I surreptitiously slipped the bird cage down out of view behind my desk. I didn’t want him to see it just yet.
“Hello, Frank,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just thought I’d drop in to see how business was going,” Garvey said cheerily. There are times when I wonder what Jackie sees in that utter fathead; but she never questions my tastes in women, and so I keep from venturing my opinions on her husband.
He took a package from under his coat. I couldn’t resist a quiver when he did that; after Hilary’s visit, I was half expecting Garvey to produce a six-headed leapfrog or something like that.
“I’ve been doing some experiments. Mart. I thought you’d like a sample.” He unpacked the little box. I watched, more nervously than usual.
And he drew out the biggest tomato you ever want to see. Pretty near the size of a melon.
I’m afraid I looked at him awfully impatiently. “Say, Frank—”
“Just a minute, Mart. Take a look at this tomato. Big, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “So what?” I glanced at my watch.
He grinned. “It’s mine; I grew it.”
“Didn’t know you were a farmer Prank! A new sideline?”
“I grew this in my lab, Mart, I told you I’d been dabbling with hydroponics.” He held the thing out proudly. “Ever see one that big?”
“What did you do to it?” I asked. “Blow it up with hot air?”
Garvey looked hurt. “You never take my work seriously, do you? This tomato’s been treated with a growth hormone I’ve developed—an improved auxin.”
“I thought oxen pulled plows.”
“Very funny. For your information, auxin happens to be a well-known scientific term for the group of hormones that induce growth in plants. It’s a relatively simple hydrocarbon, and has been commercially available for years as beta-indolyl acetic acid. But I’ve been working on a sort of super-auxin that puts the old stuff to shame.”
He held out the tomato for my inspection. I hefted it in my hand. It was big all right.
“That was produced with a one-in-two-thousand concentration of my new drug, Mart! If I’d wanted to I could have grown a tomato the size of a watermelon! The size of a cow! But—”
Here comes the catch, I thought.
“My appropriation’s been cut off,” he said sadly. “And Jackie thought, if I saw you, perhaps you could—”
“—get you some money for experiments,” I completed. I started to say no, then stopped. Bluntness is wasted on him.
“I thought we might go partners on the deal,” he said timidly. “It has great commercial possibilities.”
“Let me think about it a while,” I said. “Sounds good.”
Suddenly he was all gratitude. “Would you, Mart? It—”
I quieted him with a gesture. “I’ve got something more on my mind than big tomatoes, Frank. What do you think of this baby?” I reached down and lifted the bird cage into view.
He stared silently for almost a minute. “Venusian?” he said at length.
“Partially,” I said.
“It was a pigeon once,” Garvey said. “I mean, is it the Venusians who—oh, it has to be. There’s not a geneticist on Earth who could produce a creature like that.”
“You’re sure of that, Frank?”
“It’s my field, isn’t it? That pigeon’s been genetically manipulated by experts, and I mean experts. The Venusians have forgotten more about genes and chromosomes than we’ve ever learned. I’d stake my reputation as a geneticist that that bird’s a Venusian product.”
I nodded. For once I took him seriously. Frank may be a featherhead in many ways, but I trust anything he says professionally.
“Any opinions?” I asked.
“That’s your job, isn’t it? All I can tell you is that he’s been manipulated, and a damned good job of it.” He leaned over and whispered confidentially. “Tell me—have you people made any progress in combing genetic techniques out of the blueskins? They know more about genetic engineering than—”
“I know,” I said. We’d been trying frantically to steal genetic info from the Venusians, but we hadn’t been half so successful as they had in lifting our atomics knowledge. “Do you think this thing will breed true?” I asked.
“I don’t doubt it,” said Garvey. “I’m sure he’s a genetic mutation, not a mere phenotype alteration. Nasty-looking thing, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “It’s a nasty business, Frank.” I stood up, and started to shoo him out. “Try me on that tomato deal soon, will you?”
“Sure, Mart, sure. I don’t want to interrupt anything—”
“And give my best to Jackie, and, uh, drop around sometime soon, huh?”
“Sure thing,” he said, as I nudged him through the door.
The brass reacted as expected. I took the bird to Pitman, my immediate superior, and spent about half an hour explaining the meaning of genetic manipulation—no easy job, since for one thing explaining things to Pitman is a task for a supergenius and for another I’m pretty vague myself about genes and chromosomes.
His reaction was a simple and predictable one.
“This looks dangerous to me, Robinson. I’d suggest you let Colonel Kennerly have a look at it before we go any further.”
Kennerly bounced me up to Madison, and Madison sent me on to the Chief. I half expected him to refer me to the Archangel Gabriel, or someone, but he didn’t.
“You say your men saw dozens of these experiments being carried on in the Embassy?” the Chief asked, his thin lips set in a grim mask.
I nodded.
“Hmmm. This looks dangerous to me, Robinson. Put a stop to it before the treaty’s signed.”
He looked at me with that what’s-the-matter-you-need-an-engraved-invitation? gleam in his eye, and I got out of there in a hurry.
Put a stop to it.
Sure. Walk into the Venusian Embassy, which is so bottled up that not even the Chief could get in there, and demand that they cut out their genetic monkeyshines. I could just see it now.
I pictured myself staring up at some big blueskin and saying pompously, “One of my spies has found out about your nefarious doings. On behalf of my government, I demand you, Bring These Activities to a Halt or else.”
Oh, sure.
There had to be some more subtle way about it. I had to do it, quickly, to be sure, but with great subtlety, so that the Venusians got scared and laid off.