“I have never taken any interest in xenobiology, Mr. Kiku.”
“I made the same error, ma’am; I asked, ‘What planet is it from?’ Euplanaria are relatives of ours; there are many more flatworms on Earth than there are men. But they have a characteristic in common with Hroshii; both breeds grow when fed, shrink when starved and seem to be immortal, barring accidents. I had wondered why Lummox was so much larger than the other Hroshii. No mystery. . . you fed Lummox too much.”
“I told John Thomas that repeatedly!”
“No harm done. They are already shrinking her down. The Hroshii were not angry, it seems, over the theft or kidnapping or luring away of their youngster. They knew her-a lively, adventuresome disposition was part of what had been bred into her. But they did want her back and they searched for her year after year, following the single clue that she must have gone off with a certain group of visitors from space; they knew what those visitors looked like but not from what part of the sky they came.
“It would have discouraged us. . . but not them. I have a misty impression that the century they spent chasing rumors, asking questions, and checking strange planets was-to them-about what a few months would be to us. In time they found her. Again, they were neither grateful nor angry; we simply did not count.
“That might have been our only contact with the noble Hroshii had not a hitch developed; the Hroshia, now grown big but still young, refused to leave without her monstrous friend-I speak from the Hroshian viewpoint This was terrible to them, but they had no way to force her. How bitter a disappointment it was I ask you to imagine. . . a mating planned when Caesar fought the Gauls all now in readiness, with the other strains matured and ready. . . and Lummox refuses to go home. She shows no interest in her destiny. . . remember, she is very young; our own children do not develop social responsibility very early. In any case she won’t budge without John Thomas Stuart.” He spread his hands. “You see the predicament they are in?”
Mrs. Stuart set her mouth. “I’m sorry but it is no business of mine.”
“True. I suppose that the simplest thing to do is to let Lummox go home . . . to your home, I mean. . . and. . .”
“What? Oh, no!”
“Ma’am?”
“You can’t send that beast back! I won’t stand for it.”
Mr. Kiku stroked his chin. “I don’t understand you, ma’am. It’s Lummox’s home; it has been the Hroshia’s home much longer than it has been yours, about five times as long I believe. If I remember correctly, it isn’t your property, but your son’s. Am I right?”
“That has nothing to do with sit! You can’t load me down with that beast.”
“A court might decide that it was up to your son. But why cross that bridge? I am trying to find out why you oppose something so clearly to your son’s advantage.”
She sat silent, breathing hard, and Mr. Kiku let her sit. At last she said, “Mr. Kiku, I lost my husband to space; I won’t let my son go the same way. I intend to see to it that he stays and lives on Earth.”
He shook his head sadly. “Mrs. Stuart, sons are lost from the beginning.”
She took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I can’t let him go off into the sky. . . he’s only a little boy!”
“He’s a man, Mrs. Stuart. Younger men have died in battle.”
“Is that what you think makes a man?”
“I know of no better gauge.”
He went on, “I call my assistants ‘boys’ because I am an old man. You think of your son as a boy because you are, by comparison, an old woman. Forgive me. But the notion that a boy becomes a man only on a certain birthday is a mere legal fiction. Your son is a man; you have no moral right to keep him an infant.”
“What a wicked thing to say! It’s not true; I am merely trying to help him and guide him.”
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