The Long Result by John Brunner Read Free Book Online Page A

wrong with what was the entire Bureau’s responsibility. I held my arm out for the chronodrin shot which bin Ishmael offered.
    It wasn’t so much of an ordeal as I’d feared. The interpreter – his name was approximately Shvast – was by far the brightest of the five, as bin Ishmael had stated. I had a shrewd suspicion, as I sat in my clammy atmosphere suit amid the dark gases which the Tau Cetians regarded as clean sweet air, that Shvast was censoring the conversation in both directions in order to maintain maximum tact and politeness. One reason for this suspicion was that occasionally his speed of utterance dropped to a mere gabble, instead of the racing compressed grunt the other visitors employed. The top boss seemed to be the one called Vroazh, whom I tried to identify and distinguish from his companions by physical features: the paleness of the flat prehensile pads he used for hands, the plump fat-sacs under each upper arm. I didn’t worry about their clothing, though they were several different colours. Next time, the garments might be totally unrecognizable.
    Chiefly, we confined ourselves to generalities. Vroazh asked where Kay Lee Wong was, of course; I explained that she was responsible for the trip only, and now the great and wealthy Bureau (I wished that were true!) had taken charge of their well-being. Did the accommodation suit them? Shvast said it did, though certain minor alterations … I agreed to put them in hand. Was the food good? Shvast said it was, though the flavour of one dish which had been offered was … I made a note to tell the biological people their synthesists weren’t infallible yet. Had their belongings reached them safely? Shvast said they had, although a very precious object had been slightly scratched and … I promised to have it repaired by first-rate craftsmen.
    And that was about that. As soon as I decently could after mention of food had reminded me I’d missed my lunch, I broke it off and took my leave. Outside the airlock, bin Ishmael thanked me warmly for making his job much easier, but I thought that was pitching it too high.
    ‘The way I look at it,’ I said, ‘is this. If something goes wrong when it’s the Bureau’s responsibility, it’s going to be harder than it ordinarily is to say you work for it. I’m insuring against that. Take my point?’
    ‘You damned cynic,’ bin Ishmael said sourly, and began to help me out of my suit.
    ‘No, I mean it,’ I emphasized. And I did. I was rather offended when he answered :
    ‘Then that makes you worse than a cynic, and I don’t know a word for you. Hold still so I can unhitch this seal, will you?’

7
    I took a minor and perverse pleasure in not going straight back to the Bureau. I felt I was entitled to my lunch even if I’d missed the conventional time of day for it. Accordingly I told the car to drop me off at a nearby restaurant and sent it back to the Bureau garage by itself.
    There were at least two things I’d learned during the morning which I proposed to investigate further. Over a bowl of Israeli fruit soup I contemplated them.
    The first item was perhaps the less important. It was one thing for the Bureau to soft-pedal the Starhomers’ arrogance in order not to exacerbate relations between them and Earth. It was another matter altogether when they became sufficiently cynical (and my mind flitted back to what bin Ishmael had said) to involve an alien race in aprivate squabble. I made up my mind to discover why Tinescu – who must ultimately be responsible, if only because the Minister for Extra-Terrestrial Affairs would have looked to him for advice – had allowed the situation to degenerate to such a risky state.
    The second item was closer to home. My reaction to the pamphlet which I’d received in my conveyor box this morning had instinctively matched both Rattray’s and bin Ishmael’s – and they were a lot more directly involved with the realities of interstellar relations than we in