The Hand of Zei

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A Kkishnan year later, a drunken fat man in the Nova Iorque Bar at Novorecife was declaiming, "All nonsense, letting these barbarians do as they please. Oughta send the army and civilize 'em. Make 'em adopt modern plumbing, democracy, mass production, and all the rest. And some good up-to-date religion… Say, who's that?"

He indicated a tall, horse-faced Earthman in Krishnan costume, with a small notch in his left ear, drinking with Commandante Kennedy and Assistant Security Officer Cas-tanhoso.

The notch-eared man was saying, "… I did not invite him! He read about us in that paper they publish in Mishe and put two and two together. The next thing I knew, he showed up on a ship from Malayer saying he was my long-lost father-in-law. And since Zei's crazy about him, there's no getting rid of him. Matter of fact I don't mind Mirza so much, and he was at least able to splice us properly, so there's no more question of whether we're properly married. But those funny people who come to visit him…"

"Why do you not put him to work?" asked Castanhoso.

"I will, as soon as…" ,

"That," said the fat man's companion, "is the famous Dirk Barnevelt, president of the Sunqar Corporation. He's just pulled a big deal with the Interplanetary Council. Like to meet him?"

"Sure. Like to meet anybody human."',

"Oh, Senhor Barnevelt, may I present Senhor Elias? A new arrival."

"Glad to know you," said Barnevelt, squeezing the pudgy hand.

"You're one of these guys who lives among the natives?"

"You can put it that way," snapped Barnevelt, and started to turn away.

"No offense meant, son! I just wondered if you consider 'em better than your own kind."

"Not at all. Some find them easier to live with than Earth-Ill men, some don't. I do, but I don't think them either better or worse. It all depends on the individual."

"Sure, sure. But aren't they awfully primitive? National sovereignty and wars and nobility and all that crap?"

"Matter of fact, I like them that way."

"You're one of these romantic guys?"

"No, but I guess I like pioneering."

"Pioneering." The fat man sank into sodden silence. Barnevelt, finding his new acquaintance a boor and a bore, made a withdrawing moment. But Elias asked, "What's that new deal? Wong was telling me about it."

"Oh. Know the Sunqar?"

"A big mess of seaweed, isn't it?"

"Ayuh. There were some people who made janru out of the terpahla vine…"

"Say, I know you—the guy who eloped with a native princess, only she turned out human after all. Excuse me, what was the deal?"

"Well, I'm now lord high whatsit of the Sunqar and was willing to stop janru-making and turn over the names of the smuggling ring. But I wanted something in return, so I persuaded the I. C. to let me have engineering help to set up a soap works in the Sunqar. The vine gives us unlimited potash, and there's no soap on Krishna. So…"

Again Barnevelt started to withdraw, but the fat man clamped a grip on his arm. "Gonna be the plant's soap magnate, eh? When you finish with the Krishnans, they'll be all civilized like us and you'll have to find another planet. Say, when'd you—uh—marry this dame?"

"About a year ago."

"Any kids?"

"Three. And would you mind letting go my arm?"

"Three. Let's see. Three? Is this the planet with years twice as long as ours? No-o, the years are shorter than on Earth. Three, eh? Haw haw haw…"

Barnevelt's ruddy countenance turned purple and his knobby fist smashed into the fat face. Elias reeled back, upset a table, and crashed to the floor.

"For God's sake, Dirk!" cried Kennedy, moving to interfere.

"Nobody insults my wife," growled Barnevelt.

"But," said the fat man's companion, "I don't understand. You did say three, and, that is, you know…"

Barnevelt turned on him. "We had triplets. What's funny about that?"