The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein

“Can you risk Lummox’s life on that unjustified hope? The Chief of Police will show up again-and this time he’ll kill Lummox.”

“No, he won’t! He doesn’t know how. We’ll laugh at him!”

Mr. Perkins shook his head slowly. “That’s not your head talking, that’s your heart. The Chief will make sure this time. He’s been made to look silly; he won’t let it happen again. If he can’t figure out a sure way himself, he’ll get expert advice. Mr. Stuart, any biologist could run a rough analysis on Lummox and tell almost offhand two or three certain ways to kill him. . . kill him quickly and safely. I’ve already thought of one, just from seeing him.”

John Thomas looked at him in alarm. “You won’t tell Chief Dreiser?”

“Of course not! I’d be strung up by the thumbs first But there are thousands of others who can advise him. Or he may hit on a method himself. Be sure of this: if you wait until that death sentence is approved, it will be too late. They’ll kill Lummox. And that would be a great pity.”

John Thomas did not answer. Mr. Perkins added quietly, “You can’t oppose the forces of society singlehanded. If you are stubborn you yourself will make certain that Lummox will be killed.”

John Thomas pushed his fist hard against his mouth. Then he said almost inaudibly, “What can I do?”

“Much, if you let me help you. First, let me make this clear. If you entrust your pet to us, he will never be harmed in any way. You hear talk about vivisection and such. . . well, forget it. Our object is to put specimens into environments as much like their home planets as possible, then study them. We want them to be healthy and happy, and we go to a lot of trouble to accomplish those ends. Eventually Lummox will die a natural death. . . then we’ll mount the hide and skeleton, as a permanent exhibit.”

“How would you like to be stuffed and exhibited?” Johnnie asked bitterly.

“Eh?” Perkins looked surprised, then laughed. “It wouldn’t bother me at all; I’m leaving my carcass to the medical school of my alma mater. And it won’t bother Lummox. The point is to get him out of the clutches of the police. . . so that he can live to a ripe old age.”

“Wait a minute. If you buy him, that doesn’t get him~ off. They’ll still kill him. Won’t they?”

“Yes and no. Mostly no. Selling him to the Museum doesn’t cancel the order to destroy him, but, believe me, it will never be carried out. I’ve been coached by our legal department as to what to do. First, we agree on terms and you give me a bill of sale; that gives the Museum legal standing. At once, tonight, I get hold of your local judge and get a temporary order postponing ~he execution for a few days; it is definitely within his discretion to postpone it while this new factor of a change in ownership is considered. That’s all we need. We can get straight to the Secretary for Spatial Affairs if we need to. . . and I promise you that, once the Museum holds title, Lummox will never be destroyed.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure enough to risk the Museum’s money. If I’m wrong, I might be out of a job.” Perkins grinned. “But I’m not wrong. Once I have the temporary order and have phoned the Museum to get busy on a permanent order my next step is to settle all the damage. I’ll carry cash, enough to do it. . . cash has a convincing effect. That done, we’ll have only the Chief of Safety against us. . . and, while he may seem an obstacle to you, he will never be able to stand up against the weight that the Museum can bring to bear, when needed. And everybody lives happily ever after!” Perkins smiled. “Anything wrong with it?”

John Thomas traced out a pattern on the rug with his toe, then looked up. “Look, Mr. Perkins, I know I have to do something to save Lummox. But up to now I haven’t seen any way. . . and I guess I haven’t had the courage to look the facts in the face.”