Mr. Kiku smiled grimly. “Madam, the commonest weakness of our race is our ability to rationalize our most selfish purposes. I repeat, you have no right to force him into your mold.”
“I have more right than you have! I’m his mother.”
“Is ‘parent’ the same as ‘owner’? No matter, we are poles apart; you are trying to thwart him, I am helping him to do what he wants to do.”
“From the basest motives!”
“My motives are not an issue and neither are yours.” He stood up. “As you have already said, it seems pointless to continue. I am sorry.”
“I won’t let him! He’s still a minor. . . I have rights.”
“Limited rights, ma’am. He could divorce you.”
She gasped. ‘He wouldn’t do that to me! His own mother!”
“Perhaps. Our children’s courts have long taken a dim view of the arbitrary use of parental authority; coercion in choice of career is usually open-and-shut. Mrs. Stuart, it is best to give into the inevitable gracefully.
Don’t oppose him too far, or you will lose him completely. He is going.”
XV. Undiplomatic Relations
Mr. Kiku returned to his office with his stomach jumping but he did not stop to cater to it. Instead he leaned across his desk and said, “Sergei. Come in now.”
Greenberg entered and laid down two spools of sound tape. “I’m glad to get rid of these. Whoo!”
“Wipe them, please. Then forget you ever heard them.”
“Delighted.” Greenberg dipped them in a cavity. “Cripes, boss, couldn’t you have given him an anesthetic?”
‘Unfortunately, no.”
“Wes Robbins was pretty rough on him. I felt like a window peeper. Why did you want me to hear them? I don’t have to deal with the mess. Or do I?”
“No. But someday you will need to know how it is done.”
“Mmmm. . . Boss. . . did you have any intention of letting it stick when he fired you?”
“Don’t ask silly questions.”
“Sorry. How did you make out with the hard case?”
“She won’t let him go.”
“So?”
“So he is going.”
“She’ll scream her head off to the papers.”
“So she will.” Mr. Kiku leaned toward his desk. “Wes?”
“Mr. Robbins is at the funeral of the Venerian foreign minister,” a female voice answered, “with the Secretary.”
“Oh, yes. Ask him to see me when he returns, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Kiku.”
“Thank you, Shizuko.” The Under Secretary turned to Greenberg. “Sergei, your acting appointment as diplomatic officer first class was made permanent when you were assigned to this affair.”
“Was it?”
“Yes. The papers will no doubt reach you. You are now being promoted to chief diplomatic officer, acting. I will hold up the permanent appointment for ninety days to let some noses get back in joint.”
Greenberg’s face showed no expression. “Nice,” he said. “But why? Because I brush my teeth regularly? Or the way I keep my brief case polished?”
“You are going to Hroshijud as deputy and chief of mission. Mr. MacClure will be ambassador, but I doubt that he will learn the tongue. . . which will of course place the burden of dealing with them on you. So you must acquire a working knowledge of their language at once. Follow me?”
Greenberg translated it to read: MacClure will have to talk to them through you, which keeps him in line.
“Yes,” he answered thoughtfully, “but how about Dr. Ftaeml? The Ambassador will probably use him as interpreter rather than myself.” To himself he added: boss, you can’t do this to me. MacClure can short me out through Ftaeml. . . and there I am, nine hundred light-years from help.
“Sorry,” Kiku answered, “but I can’t spare Ftaeml. I shall retain him to interpret for the Hroshij mission they will leave behind. He accepted the job.”
Greenberg frowned. “I’ll start picking his brain in earnest, then, I’ve soaked up some Hroshija already. . . makes your throat raw. But when did they agree to all this? Have I slept through something? While I was in Westville?”
“They haven’t agreed. They will.”
“I admire your confidence, boss. They strike me as being as stubborn as Mrs. Stuart. Speaking of such, Ftaeml spoke to me while you were bickering with her. He says they are getting insistent about the Stuart kid. Now that you know he’s going shouldn’t we quiet them down? Ftaeml is jittery. He says the only thing that restrains them from giving us the worlth is that it would displease our old pal Lummox.”