“‘Peas’ is the correct idiom,” Mr. Kiku answered soberly.
“Thank you. Your language is rich; I must refresh myself of it while I am here. Would you believe it? The man from whom I first learned it intentionally taught me idioms unacceptable in your polite society. For example ‘as cold as. . .'”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Kiku said hastily. “I can believe it. Some of our compatriots have an odd sense of humor. You concluded that there is somewhere in this star cloud a race so like ours as to be our twin brothers? I find that notion statistically unlikely to the point of impossibility.”
“The entire universe, Mr. Under Secretary, is wildly unlikely to the point of ridiculousness. Therefore, we of Rargyll know that God is a humorist.” The medusoid made a gesture peculiar to his breed, then politely repeated it in idiom by making one of the most common Earthly gestures of reverence.
“You explained this conclusion to your clients?”
“I did. . . and I repeated it most carefully in my lastest consultation. ‘I’he result was foreseeable.”
“Yes?”
“Each race has its talent, each its weakness. The Hroshii, once having with mighty intellect arrived at an opinion, are not easily swayed. ‘Pig-headed’ is your precise term.”
“Pig-headedness breeds pig-headedness, Dr. Ftaeml.”
“Please, my dear sir! I hope that you will not be so tempted. Let me report, if I must, that you have been unable to find their treasured one, but that you are instituting new and more thorough searches. I am your friend. . . do not admit that this negotiation has failed.”
“I never broke off a negotiation in my life,” Mr. Kiku answered sourly. “If you can’t outargue the other fellow, sometimes you can outlive him. But I do not see what more we have to offer them. Except for that one possibility we spoke of last time. . . did you bring the coordinates of their planet? Or did they refuse?”
“I have them. I told you that they would not refuse; the Hroshii are not in the least afraid of having other races know where to find them. . . they are merely indifferent” Dr. Ftaeml opened a brief case which was either an imitation of a terrestrial one, or might have been purchased on Earth. “Nevertheless it was not easy. The where-and-when had to be translated from their concepts to those using Rargyll as the true center of the universe, for which purpose it required that I first convince them of the necessity, then explain to them spacetime units as used on Rargyll. Now, since I must shame myself by admitting that I am not skilled in your methods of reckoning the shape of the universe, it is necessary that I have help in translating our figures into yours.”
“No need to feel shamefaced,” Mr. Kiku answered, “for I don’t know anything about our astrogation methods myself. We use specialists for that sort of thing. Just a moment.” He touched an ornamental knob on the conference table. “Get me BuAstro.”
“They’ve all gone home for the day,” a disembodied female voice answered, “except the astrogation duty officer.
“Then that’s who I want. Hurry it up.”
Very shortly a male voice said, “Dr. Warner, night duty officer.”
“Kiku here. Doctor, you solve space-time correlations?”
Of course, sir.”
“Can you do it from Rargyllian data?”
“Rargyllian?” The duty officer whistled softly. “That’s a tough one, sir. Dr. Singh is the man for that”
“Get him up here, right away.”
“Uh, why, he’s gone home, sir. He’ll be here in the morning.”
“I didn’t ask where he was; I said, ‘Get him up here. . . right away.’ Use police alarm and general call, if necessary. I want him now.”
“Er. . . yes, sir.”
Mr. Kiku turned back to Dr. Ftaeml. “I expect to be able to show that no terrestrial starship ever visited the Hroshii. Fortunately we do have astrogation records for every interstellar trip. My thought is this: it is time that the principals met face to face in this negotiation. With your skillful interpretation we can show them that we have nothing to hide, that the facilities of our civilization are at their disposal, and that we would like to help them find their missing sibling. . . but that she is not here. Then, if they have any thing to suggest, we will. . .” Mr. Kiku broke off as a door at the end of the room opened. He said tonelessly, “How do you do, Mr. Secretary?”