Weems was rocked back on his heels. Unheard of! Diplomacy as casual as this was tantamount to an interplanetary incident. The Jovian continued casually as before: "You see, we've no navy and don't need space-rights. It's strictly commercial, so we haven't got any Foreign Office. We hardly trade at all with Venus and Earth, and our Mars relations are settled by treaty once every four of the Mars years."
"Excuse me," said Weems abruptly. He had just caught a high-sign from Dr. Carewe, who was holding a flimsy like a dead rat. He sidled over to her inconspicuously.
"Well—what turned up?"
"The chip," she said breathlessly, "has been knocked off. I just got this from our Embassy—messenger. It's a copy of the note the Earth F. O. just sent to Venus. The Earth F. O. assures Venus that not only does Earth impeach the Venus F. O. but that she is prepared to put its jurisdiction to trial." She handed him the flimsy.
He scanned it almost unbelievingly. "The so-and-so's," he commented inaudibly. "That about fixes our little red wagon, doc. Though we have an ally. Jupiter wants its place in the sun."
As the woman stared with amazement he introduced the Jovian to her and explained the situation. The squat man listened with increasing anxiety as he dilated on the relations that would exist between the two worlds.
"Will we really," he asked at length, "need all those men—actually twenty-five on our end!—to handle a little thing like a military alliance?"
"Lord, yes!" breathed Weems. "Code clerks, secretaries, sub-secretaries, second-sub-secretaries—lots more."
"May I ask," said the woman, "why this sudden interest in protocol and procedure has come up on Jupiter?"
The Jovian looked a little embarrassed. "It's a matter of pride," he explained. "The three other planets have their own secret codes and messages. We're the only planet that hasn't got sealed diplomatic pouches absolutely inviolable in any jurisdiction! And so our Executive Committee decided that if it's good enough for them it's good enough for us."