note—or perhaps an aide memoir is less formal. . .
."
"The Moss
Rock was bound for Groac," Retief said. "She was
already in her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments should arrive
on schedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display. I
think that should be all the aid the Groaci's memoires will need to
keep their tentacles off Fust."
"But diplomatic usage—"
"Then, too, the less that's
put in writing, the less they can blame you for, if anything goes wrong."
"There's that, of
course," Magnan said, his lips pursed. "Now you're thinking
constructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet." He smiled
expansively.
"Maybe, But I refuse to let it
depress me." Retief stood up. "I'm taking a few weeks off ... if you have no objections, Mr.
Ambassador. My pal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the
fishing is good."
"But there are some extremely
important matters coming up," Magnan said. "We're planning to sponsor
Senior Citizen Groups."
"Count me out. Groups give me
an itch."
"Why, what an astonishing
remark, Retief. After all, we diplomats are ourselves a group."
"Uh, huh," Retief said.
"That's what I mean."
Magnan sat quietly, his mouth open,
and watched as Retief stepped into the hall and closed the door gently behind
him.
POLICY
. . . No jackstraws to be swayed by
superficial appearances, dedicated career field personnel of the Corps
unflaggingly administered the enlightened concepts evolved at Corps HQ by
high-level deep-think teams toiling unceasingly in underground caverns to weld
the spirit of Inter-Being amity. Never has the efficacy of close cultural
rapport, coupled with Mission teamwork, been better displayed than in the loyal
performance of Administrative Assistant Yolanda Meuhl, Acting Consul at Groac,
in maintaining the Corps posture laid down by her predecessor, Consul Whaffle .
. .
Vol VII, reel 98. 488 A. E. (AD
2949)
"The
Consul for the
Terrestrial States," Retief said, "presents his compliments, et
cetera, to the Ministry of Culture of the Groacian Autonomy, and, with
reference to the Ministry's invitation to attend a recital of interpretive
grimacing, has the honor to express regret that he will be unable—"
"You can't turn down this
invitation," Administrative Assistant Meuhl said flatly. "I'll make
that 'accepts with pleasure'."
Retief exhaled a plume of cigar
smoke. "Miss Meuhl," he said, "in the past couple of weeks I've
sat through six light concerts, four attempts at chamber music, and God knows
how many assorted folk-art festivals. I've been tied up every off-duty hour
since I got here."
"You can't offend the
Groaci," Miss Meuhl said sharply. "Consul Whaffle would never
have—"
"Whaffle left here three
months ago," Retief said, "leaving me in charge."
"Well," Miss Meuhl said,
snapping off the dictyper. "I'm sure I don't know what excuse I can give
the Minister."
"Never mind the excuses. Just
tell him I won't be there." He stood up.
"Are you leaving the
office?" Miss Meuhl adjusted her glasses. "I have some important
letters here for your signature."
"I don't recall dictating any
letters today, Miss Meuhl," Retief said, pulling on a light cape.
"I wrote them for you. They're
just as Consul Whaffle would have wanted them."
"Did you write all Whaffle's
letters for him, Miss Meuhl?"
"Consul Whaffle was an
extremely busy man," Miss Meuhl said stiffly. "He had complete
confidence in me."
"Since I'm cutting out the
culture from now on, I won't be so busy."
"Well! May I ask where you'll
be if something comes up?"
"I'm going over to the Foreign
Office Archives."
Miss Meuhl blinked behind thick
lenses. "Whatever for?"
Retief looked at her thoughtfully.
"You've been here on Groac for four years, Miss Meuhl. What was behind the
coup d’état that put the present government in power?"
"I'm sure I haven't pried
into—"
"What about that Terrestrial
cruiser, the one that disappeared out this way about ten years back?"
"Mr.
."
"The Moss
Rock was bound for Groac," Retief said. "She was
already in her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments should arrive
on schedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display. I
think that should be all the aid the Groaci's memoires will need to
keep their tentacles off Fust."
"But diplomatic usage—"
"Then, too, the less that's
put in writing, the less they can blame you for, if anything goes wrong."
"There's that, of
course," Magnan said, his lips pursed. "Now you're thinking
constructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet." He smiled
expansively.
"Maybe, But I refuse to let it
depress me." Retief stood up. "I'm taking a few weeks off ... if you have no objections, Mr.
Ambassador. My pal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the
fishing is good."
"But there are some extremely
important matters coming up," Magnan said. "We're planning to sponsor
Senior Citizen Groups."
"Count me out. Groups give me
an itch."
"Why, what an astonishing
remark, Retief. After all, we diplomats are ourselves a group."
"Uh, huh," Retief said.
"That's what I mean."
Magnan sat quietly, his mouth open,
and watched as Retief stepped into the hall and closed the door gently behind
him.
POLICY
. . . No jackstraws to be swayed by
superficial appearances, dedicated career field personnel of the Corps
unflaggingly administered the enlightened concepts evolved at Corps HQ by
high-level deep-think teams toiling unceasingly in underground caverns to weld
the spirit of Inter-Being amity. Never has the efficacy of close cultural
rapport, coupled with Mission teamwork, been better displayed than in the loyal
performance of Administrative Assistant Yolanda Meuhl, Acting Consul at Groac,
in maintaining the Corps posture laid down by her predecessor, Consul Whaffle .
. .
Vol VII, reel 98. 488 A. E. (AD
2949)
"The
Consul for the
Terrestrial States," Retief said, "presents his compliments, et
cetera, to the Ministry of Culture of the Groacian Autonomy, and, with
reference to the Ministry's invitation to attend a recital of interpretive
grimacing, has the honor to express regret that he will be unable—"
"You can't turn down this
invitation," Administrative Assistant Meuhl said flatly. "I'll make
that 'accepts with pleasure'."
Retief exhaled a plume of cigar
smoke. "Miss Meuhl," he said, "in the past couple of weeks I've
sat through six light concerts, four attempts at chamber music, and God knows
how many assorted folk-art festivals. I've been tied up every off-duty hour
since I got here."
"You can't offend the
Groaci," Miss Meuhl said sharply. "Consul Whaffle would never
have—"
"Whaffle left here three
months ago," Retief said, "leaving me in charge."
"Well," Miss Meuhl said,
snapping off the dictyper. "I'm sure I don't know what excuse I can give
the Minister."
"Never mind the excuses. Just
tell him I won't be there." He stood up.
"Are you leaving the
office?" Miss Meuhl adjusted her glasses. "I have some important
letters here for your signature."
"I don't recall dictating any
letters today, Miss Meuhl," Retief said, pulling on a light cape.
"I wrote them for you. They're
just as Consul Whaffle would have wanted them."
"Did you write all Whaffle's
letters for him, Miss Meuhl?"
"Consul Whaffle was an
extremely busy man," Miss Meuhl said stiffly. "He had complete
confidence in me."
"Since I'm cutting out the
culture from now on, I won't be so busy."
"Well! May I ask where you'll
be if something comes up?"
"I'm going over to the Foreign
Office Archives."
Miss Meuhl blinked behind thick
lenses. "Whatever for?"
Retief looked at her thoughtfully.
"You've been here on Groac for four years, Miss Meuhl. What was behind the
coup d’état that put the present government in power?"
"I'm sure I haven't pried
into—"
"What about that Terrestrial
cruiser, the one that disappeared out this way about ten years back?"
"Mr.
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