The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens (33 page)

Varnipaz nodded somberly. “He said he wanted to see some action before he died, and he did.” The Krishnan turned to Gordon Graham. “I owe you more than I can pay, Gordon. As in my own world I am a person of some importance, you shall have anything you wish if I can manage it. Name your reward.”

Graham looked up from the engineering report he was writing for the Brazilian Federal Police and exchanged glances with Jeru-Bhetiru. The Krishnan had turned out to be quite as fine a fellow as he had seemed, and you couldn’t very well respond to his offer by telling him you wanted his girl.

“Go ahead,” said Varnipaz. “Anything you desire.”

“Well-uh—” said Graham.

“Be frank.”

Graham took a deep breath and said: “If you r-really w-w-want to know, I’m in love with your fiancée.”

Varnipaz raised his antennae slightly. “Interesting. That however is something for her to decide. What about it, Jeru-Bhetiru?”

“I love Gorodon too,” she said. “Madly. But of course I shall still marry you as planned.”

“What?” said Graham. “How d’you figure that?”

She explained gently: “In my country this state you call being in love has nothing to do with marriage. We think that people who mate on a basis of interest and advantage are happier in the long run than those who do so on a basis of a temporary sexual attraction. While the latter does sometimes happen, we consider the victims to be pitied. This romantic idea of the Earthly Western culture makes no sense to us.

“Now, the engagement of Varnipaz and myself is a stroke of statesmanship, to set up a tie between Katai-Jhogorai, the most cultured state on Krishna, and Sotaspé, the most scientific. We like each other and shall get along well, and we certainly should not spoil such an excellent plan because of a temporary infatuation, especially with an Earthman. You and I, Gorodon, could not even have young.”

“W-we could adopt . . .” began Graham, but she stopped him.

“Adopt what, an Osirian with scales or a Vishnuvan with six legs? No, Gorodon darling, you know as well as I that it would not be the same . . .”

And then they were at the New York Airport. Varnipaz shook hands with Graham and Jeru-Bhetiru kissed him soundly, and off they went, the Krishnan girl on the arm of her betrothed.

Graham turned to Sklar. “How about a drink before we go into town?”

“Sure think,” said the constable, and they walked towards the bar. “Don’t look so sad, pal. After all you’re a hero.”

“I do feel sort of let down,” said Graham. “Of course it’s nice to have the President of Brazil shake your hand, and Souza offer you a permanent job on the Project, and that sort of thing. But I was hoping . . .”

“That the little squid would—uh—make some arrangement, huh? You’ll be glad someday. When you been married as lunk as I have, you take a relaxed view of such thinks. After all you saved the continent for the W.F., didn’t you? What do you want, an egg in your beer?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“Okus dokus.” Reinhold Sklar turned to the bartender. “A Martian special for me, and for my friend here one stein of lager. Put an egg in it.”