"War," mused Weems. "Nobody wins, really--it wouldn't be nice to see New York blown to pieces, even though we could do exactly the same to Venusport. Sweetness and light it is." * * * * * Venus politics are no joke. The fish-faced little people have at least two parties per acre and the dizziest system of alliances and super-alliances that ever bewildered a struggling young diplomat. Typically there were absolutely no points of agreement among any of the parties as to foreign policy, and yet the Venusian Embassies spoke with authority that was backed up by a united planet. Their military forces were likewise held in common by all the countries, but there were "state militias" engaged in intramural activities and constant border-fighting. Weems knew the language, and that was one very great advantage; also he spent the long rocket trip to the foggy planet in learning what he could of the political set-up. He arrived with a fanfare of trumpets; at the pier he was greeted by a score of minor officials. It was a deliberate insult from the Venusian army, for not a single high-ranking officer was present. He glossed it over for the sake of a splendid ovation from the populace of Venusport, who were thoroughly hopped up with esteem for him. He was the shining young man who would assure peace and prosperity for the two inner planets, and the populace was all for him. But, he knew very well, if one nasty word came from Earth, officially recognizing the Aristotle, their mood would change suddenly and savagely. And that was what he had to be ready for. He didn't trust the fat-headed Osgood. From city to city he made a grand tour, speaking with very little accent before huge audiences of the little people and meeting few really high-up officials. Everywhere he went he met with disapproval from the public officers. "How," he complained to Dr. Carewe, "they get together on a complicated issue like disliking me, I don't understand." With a grim look about the hotel room she explained: "It's the army. They must be partly in the pay of Mars. You're the finest thing that's happened in the way of friendly relations between Earth and Venus. If you take root long enough to get your message over they won't be able to pounce on Earth, to the benefit of nobody except the red planet. So they're trying to cool things off." Again the nervous glance around the room. "What's that for?" "Dictaphones. But I don't think there are any. So at the risk of getting mushy I'm going to tell you just what I think of your job. I think you're working like a madman, with some of the finest, single-hearted devotion to the cause of peace that I've ever seen. If you keep this up and handle the rest of your life the way you're handling this part you won't be immortal--not the way Osgood is going to be--with a bust in the rotunda of the Capitol and a chapter in the history books.