drunk out the door. The other Groaci,
releasing the heckler, hurried back inside. Retief looked at the weaving
creature.
"To begone, freak," the
Groacian whispered.
"To be pals," Retief
said. "To be kind to dumb animals."
"To have you hauled away to a
stockyard, ill-odored foreign livestock."
"Not to be angry, fragrant
native," Retief said. "To permit me to chum with you."
"To flee before I take a cane
to you!"
"To have a drink
together."
"Not to endure such
insolence." The Groacian advanced toward Retief. Retief backed away.
"To hold hands," he said.
"To be buddies—"
The Groacian reached for him, but
missed. A passer-by stepped around him, head down, and scuttled away. Retief,
backing into the opening to a narrow cross-way, offered further verbal
familiarities to the drunken local, who followed, furious. Retief stepped
around him, seized his collar and yanked. The Groacian fell on his back. Retief
stood over him. The downed native half rose; Retief put a foot against his
chest and pushed.
"Not to be going anywhere for
a few minutes," he said. "To stay right here and have a nice long
talk."
"There you are!" Miss
Meuhl said, eyeing Retief over her lenses. "There are two gentlemen
waiting to see you. Groacian gentlemen."
"Government men, I imagine.
Word travels fast." Retief pulled off his cape. "This saves me the
trouble of paying another call at the Foreign Ministry."
"What have you been doing?
They seem very upset, I don't mind telling you."
"I'm sure you don't Come
along—and bring an official recorder."
Two Groaci, wearing heavy
eye-shields and elaborate crest ornaments indicative of rank, rose as Retief
entered the room. Neither offered a courteous snap of the mandibles, Retief
noted; they were mad, all right.
"I am Fith, of the Terrestrial
Desk, Ministry of Foreign Affairs," the taller Groacian said, in lisping
Terran. "May I present Shluh, of the Internal Police."
"Sit down, gentlemen,"
Retief said. They resumed their seats. Miss Meuhl hovered nervously, then sat
down on the edge of a chair.
"Oh, it's such a
pleasure—" she began.
"Never mind that," Retief
said. "These gentlemen didn't come here to sip tea today."
"True," Fith rasped.
"Frankly, I have had a most disturbing report, Mr. Consul. I shall ask
Shluh to recount it." He nodded to the police chief.
"One hour ago," Shluh
said, "a Groacian national was brought to hospital suffering from serious
contusions. Questioning of this individual revealed that he had been set upon
and beaten by a foreigner; a Terrestrial, to be precise. Investigation by my
Department indicates that the description of the culprit closely matches that
of the Terrestrial Consul. . . ."
Miss Meuhl gasped audibly.
"Have you ever heard,"
Retief said, looking steadily at Fith, "of a Terrestrial cruiser, the ISV
Terrific , which dropped from sight in this sector nine years
ago?"
"Really!" Miss Meuhl
exclaimed, rising, "I wash my hands—"
"Just keep that recorder
going," Retief snapped.
"I'll not be a party—"
"You'll do as you're told,
Miss Meuhl," Retief said quietly. "I'm telling you to make an
official sealed record of this conversation."
Miss Meuhl sat down.
Fith puffed out his throat
indignantly. "You re-open an old wound, Mr. Consul. It reminds us of
certain illegal treatment at Terrestrial hands."
"Hogwash," Retief said.
"That tune went over with my predecessors, but it hits a sour note with
me."
"All our efforts," Miss
Meuhl said, "to live down that terrible episode; and you—"
"Terrible? I understand that a
Terrestrial Peace Enforcer stood off Groac and sent a delegation down to ask
questions. They got some funny answers and stayed on to dig around a little.
After a week, they left. Somewhat annoying to you Groaci, if you were
innocent—"
"If!" Miss Meuhl burst out.
"If, indeed," Fith said,
his weak voice trembling. "I must protest your—"
"Save your protests, Fith. You
have some explaining to do, and I don't think your story will be
releasing the heckler, hurried back inside. Retief looked at the weaving
creature.
"To begone, freak," the
Groacian whispered.
"To be pals," Retief
said. "To be kind to dumb animals."
"To have you hauled away to a
stockyard, ill-odored foreign livestock."
"Not to be angry, fragrant
native," Retief said. "To permit me to chum with you."
"To flee before I take a cane
to you!"
"To have a drink
together."
"Not to endure such
insolence." The Groacian advanced toward Retief. Retief backed away.
"To hold hands," he said.
"To be buddies—"
The Groacian reached for him, but
missed. A passer-by stepped around him, head down, and scuttled away. Retief,
backing into the opening to a narrow cross-way, offered further verbal
familiarities to the drunken local, who followed, furious. Retief stepped
around him, seized his collar and yanked. The Groacian fell on his back. Retief
stood over him. The downed native half rose; Retief put a foot against his
chest and pushed.
"Not to be going anywhere for
a few minutes," he said. "To stay right here and have a nice long
talk."
"There you are!" Miss
Meuhl said, eyeing Retief over her lenses. "There are two gentlemen
waiting to see you. Groacian gentlemen."
"Government men, I imagine.
Word travels fast." Retief pulled off his cape. "This saves me the
trouble of paying another call at the Foreign Ministry."
"What have you been doing?
They seem very upset, I don't mind telling you."
"I'm sure you don't Come
along—and bring an official recorder."
Two Groaci, wearing heavy
eye-shields and elaborate crest ornaments indicative of rank, rose as Retief
entered the room. Neither offered a courteous snap of the mandibles, Retief
noted; they were mad, all right.
"I am Fith, of the Terrestrial
Desk, Ministry of Foreign Affairs," the taller Groacian said, in lisping
Terran. "May I present Shluh, of the Internal Police."
"Sit down, gentlemen,"
Retief said. They resumed their seats. Miss Meuhl hovered nervously, then sat
down on the edge of a chair.
"Oh, it's such a
pleasure—" she began.
"Never mind that," Retief
said. "These gentlemen didn't come here to sip tea today."
"True," Fith rasped.
"Frankly, I have had a most disturbing report, Mr. Consul. I shall ask
Shluh to recount it." He nodded to the police chief.
"One hour ago," Shluh
said, "a Groacian national was brought to hospital suffering from serious
contusions. Questioning of this individual revealed that he had been set upon
and beaten by a foreigner; a Terrestrial, to be precise. Investigation by my
Department indicates that the description of the culprit closely matches that
of the Terrestrial Consul. . . ."
Miss Meuhl gasped audibly.
"Have you ever heard,"
Retief said, looking steadily at Fith, "of a Terrestrial cruiser, the ISV
Terrific , which dropped from sight in this sector nine years
ago?"
"Really!" Miss Meuhl
exclaimed, rising, "I wash my hands—"
"Just keep that recorder
going," Retief snapped.
"I'll not be a party—"
"You'll do as you're told,
Miss Meuhl," Retief said quietly. "I'm telling you to make an
official sealed record of this conversation."
Miss Meuhl sat down.
Fith puffed out his throat
indignantly. "You re-open an old wound, Mr. Consul. It reminds us of
certain illegal treatment at Terrestrial hands."
"Hogwash," Retief said.
"That tune went over with my predecessors, but it hits a sour note with
me."
"All our efforts," Miss
Meuhl said, "to live down that terrible episode; and you—"
"Terrible? I understand that a
Terrestrial Peace Enforcer stood off Groac and sent a delegation down to ask
questions. They got some funny answers and stayed on to dig around a little.
After a week, they left. Somewhat annoying to you Groaci, if you were
innocent—"
"If!" Miss Meuhl burst out.
"If, indeed," Fith said,
his weak voice trembling. "I must protest your—"
"Save your protests, Fith. You
have some explaining to do, and I don't think your story will be
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