The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein

He was just sustaining a veto on a passport for a very prominent lecturer-the last time the idiot had been off Earth, he had broken into a temple and taken pictures-when Robbins walked in and chucked a paper on his desk. “Here’s his resignation. Better see the Secretary General at once.”

Mr. Kiku took it. “I shall.”

“I didn’t want you there when I twisted his arm. It’s harder for a man to say ‘Uncle’ with a witness. You understood?”

“Yes.”

“I had to bring up the time we covered up for him about the convention with Kondor.”

“Regrettable.”

“Don’t waste tears. Enough is enough. Now I am going to write the speech he will make before the Council. After that I’ll look up the boys he talked to last night and beg them, for the sake of their dear old home planet, to take the proper line on the follow-up story. They won’t like it.”

“I suppose not.”

“But they’ll go along. Us humans have got to stick together; we are badly outnumbered.”

“So I have always felt. Thanks, Wes.”

“A pleasure. Just one thing I didn’t mention to him. . .”

“So?”

“I didn’t remind him that the boy’s name was John Thomas Stuart. I’m not sure the Martian Commonwealth would have bolted, in view of that one fact, The Council might have sustained Mac, after all and we might have found out whether the Hroshian laddies can do what they say they can.”

Kiku nodded. ‘I thought of that, too. It didn’t seem time to mention it.”

“No. There are so many swell places for a man to keep his mouth shut. What are you smiling at?”

“I was thinking,” Mr. Kiku explained, “that it is a good thing that the Hroshii do not read our newspapers.”

XIV. “Destiny? Fiddlesticks!”

Mrs. Stuart did read newspapers. Greenberg had had great trouble persuading her to come to Capital and to bring her son, because he was not free to tell her why. But he did persuade her and she had agreedto go the following morning.

When Greenberg arrived the next morning to pick them up he found himself persona non grata. She was in a white fury and simply shoved the newspaper into his hand. He glanced at it. “Yes? I saw a copy at the hotel. Nonsense, of course.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell mother,” John Thomas said sullenly, “but she won’t listen,”

“John Thomas, you keep quiet. Well, Mr. Greenberg? What have you to say for yourself?”

Greenberg did not have a good answer. He had tried to call Mr. Kiku as soon as he saw the news story and had been told by Mildred that the boss and Mr. Robbins were with, the Secretary and could not be disturbed. He told her that he would call later, realizing uneasily that trouble was not all at his end.

“Mrs. Stuart, surely you know that news reports are often distorted. There has been no talk of hostages and. . .”

“How can you say that when it says so right there! That’s an interview with the Secretary of Space. Who knows more about it? You? Or the Secretary?”

Greenberg had his own opinion but did not dare express it. “Please, Mrs. Stuart. Newspaper stories should not be accepted at face value. This wild report has nothing to do with the case. I am simply asking you to come to Capital for a quiet talk with the Under Secretary.”

“Not likely! If the Under Secretary wants to see me, let him come here.”

“Madam, he will, if necessary. Mr. Kiku is an oldfashioned gentleman who would not ask a lady to come to him were it not for the press of public affairs. You know that there is an interplanetary conference in progress?”

She answered smugly, “I make it a rule never to pay attention to politics.”

He sighed. “Some of us must. Mr. Kiku is unable to come here today because of that conference. We had hoped that you, as a private citizen, would come to him.”

“Mr. Greenberg, I reluctantly consented. Now I find that you have deceived me. How do I know but what this is a trick? A plot to turn my-son over to those monsters?”