The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein

“Space is deep, Excellency.”

“Yes, yes. No doubt there are thousands of great races that we of Earth have never met, will never meet. Am I to infer that this is also the first contact of your race with the Hroshii?”

“No. We have long known of them. . . longer than we have known of you,”

“Eh?” Greenberg glanced sharply at Mr, Kiku. He went on, “What are the relations of Rargyll with the Hroshii? And why has not this been reported to the Federation?”

“Excellency, is that last question a rebuke? If so, I must answer that I am not acting for my government.”

“No,” Greenberg assured him, “it was a simple inquiry. The Federation always seeks to extend its diplomatic linkage as far as possible. I was surprised to learn that your race, which claims friendship with ours, could know of a mighty civilization and not make that fact known to the Federation.”

“May I say, Excellency, that I am surprised at your surprise? Space is deep. . . and my race have long been great travelers. Perhaps the Federation has not asked the right questions? As for the other, my people have no diplomatic relations, no relations of any sort, with the mighty Hroshii. They are a people who, as you say, mind their own business, and we are very happy to (as you would phrase it). . . to stay out of their yard. It has been years, more than five of your centuries, since the last time a Hroshii ship appeared in our skies and demanded service from us. It is better so.”

Greenberg said, “I seem to be getting more confused the more I know. They stopped at Rargyll to pick up an interpreter instead of coming straight here?”

“Not precisely. They appeared in our skies and asked if we had ever heard of you people. We answered that we knew you. . . for when the Hroshii ask, they are answered! We identified your star and I had the unsought honor to be chosen to represent them.” He shrugged. “Here I am. Let me add that it was not until we were deep in space that I learned the object of their search.”

Greenberg had made note earlier of a loose end. “Just a moment. They retained you, they started for Earth, then told you that they were searching for a missing Hroshia. It must have been then that you decided that this mission would fail. Why?”

“Is it not evident? We Rargyllians, in your lovely and precise idiom, are the greatest gossips in space. Perhaps you would say ‘historians’ but I mean something more lively than that. Gossips. We go everywhere, we know everyone, we speak all languages. I did not need to ‘check the files’ to know that men of Earth had never been to the capital planet of the Hroshii. Had you made such contact you would have forced your attentions on them and started a war. It would have been a ‘scandal to the jaybirds’. . . a lovely phrase, that; I must see a jaybird while I am here. It would have been discussed with many a fine anecdote wherever two Rargyllians got together. So I knew that they must be mistaken; they would not find what they sought.”

“In other words,” Greenberg answered, “you people identified the wrong planet. . . and wished this problem on us.”

“Please,” protested Dr. Ftaeml. “Our identification was perfect, I assure you-not of your planet, for the Hroshii did not know where you came from-but of you yourself. The creatures-they wished to locate were men of Earth, in every possible detail-down to your fingernails, your internal organs.”

“Yet you knew they were mistaken. Doctor, I am not the semantician you are. I seem to see a contradiction. . . or a paradox.”

“Permit me to explain. We who deal professionally in words know how cheap words are. A paradox can exist only in words, never in the facts behind the words. Since the Hroshii described exactly the men of Earth and since I knew that the men of Earth knew not the Hroshii, I concluded what I must conclude-that there is another race in this galaxy as like to your race as twin Sornia in their shell-as two peas in the pod. Peas? You like beans better?”