The Star Beast Read Online Free Page B

explored universe was also his responsibility. Even affairs which were superficially strictly Earthside were also his concern, if they affected or were in any way affected by anything which was extra-terrestrial, interplanetary, or interstellar in nature—a very wide range indeed.
    His problems included such things as the importation of Martian sand grass, suitably mutated, for the Tibetan plateau. Mr. Kiku’s office had not approved that until after a careful mathematical examination of the possible effect on the Australian sheep industry—and a dozen other factors. Such things were done cautiously, with the gruesome example of Madagascar and the Martian berryroot always before them. Economic decisions did not upset Mr. Kiku, no matter how many toes he stepped on; other sorts kept him awake nights—such as his decision not to give police escorts to Goddard exchange students from Procyon VII despite the very real danger to them from provincial Earthmen with prejudices against beings having unearthly arrangements of limbs or eyes or such—the cephalopods of that planet were a touchy people and something very like a police escort was their own usual punishment for criminals.
    Mr. Kiku had an extremely large staff to help him, of course, and, also of course, the help of the Secretary himself. The Secretary made speeches, greeted Very Important Visitors, gave out interviews, and in many other ways eased for Mr. Kiku an otherwise unbearable load—Mr. Kiku would be first to admit this. As long as the current Secretary behaved himself, minded his business, took care of public appearances, and let the Under Secretary get on with the department’s work, he had Mr. Kiku’s approval. Of course, if he failed to pull his load or threw his weight around, Mr. Kiku was capable of finding ways to get rid of him. But it had been fifteen years since he had found it necessary to be so drastic; even the rawest political appointee could usually be broken to harness.
    Mr. Kiku had not made up his mind about the current Secretary, but was not now thinking about him. Instead he was looking over the top-sheet synopsis for Project Cerberus, a power proposal for the research station on Pluto. A reminder light on his desk flashed and he looked up to see the door between his office and that of the Secretary dilate. The Secretary walked in, whistling Take Me Out to the Ball Game ; Mr. Kiku did not recognize the tune.
    He broke off. “Greetings, Henry. No, don’t get up.”
    Mr. Kiku had not started to get up. “How do you do, Mr. Secretary? What can I do for your”
    “Nothing much, nothing much.” He paused by Mr. Kiku’s desk and picked up the project folder. “What are you swotting now? Cerberus, eh? Henry, that’s an engineering matter. Why should we worry about it?”
    “There are aspects,” Mr. Kiku answered carefully, “that concern us.”
    “I suppose so. Budget and so forth.” His eye sought the bold-faced line reading: ESTIMATED COST : 3.5 megabucks and 7.4 lives. “What’s this? I can’t go before the Council and ask them to approve this. It’s fantastic.”
    “The first estimate,” Mr. Kiku said evenly, “was over eight megabucks and more than a hundred lives.”
    “I don’t mind the money, but this other… You are in effect asking the Council to sign death warrants for seven and four-tenths men: You can’t do that, it isn’t human. Say, what the deuce is four-tenths of a man anyway? How can you kill a fraction of a man?”
    “Mr. Secretary,” his subordinate answered patiently, “any project bigger than a schoolyard swing involves probable loss of life. But that hazard factor is low; it means that working on Project Cerberus will be safer, on the average, than staying Earthside. That’s my rule of thumb.”
    “Eh?” The Secretary looked again at the synopsis. “Then why not say so? Put the thing in the best light and so forth?”
    “This report is for my eyes…for our eyes, only. The report to the