“In a way it’s lucky you did, Captain. That was my only lead.”
“They tried to finish us after that. But, with full power to the screens, nothing they had could get through. Then they called on us to surrender.”
Retief nodded. “I take it you weren’t tempted?”
“More than you know. It was a long swing out on our first circuit. Then coming back in, we figured we’d hit. As a last resort I would have pulled back power from the screens and tried to adjust the orbit with the steering jets, but the bombardment was pretty heavy. I don’t think we’d have made it. Then we swung past and headed out again. We’ve got a three-year period. Don’t think I didn’t consider throwing in the towel.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“The information we have is important. We’ve got plenty of stores aboard, enough for another ten years, if necessary. Sooner or later I knew a Corps search vessel would find us.”
Retief cleared his throat. “I’m glad you stuck with it, Captain. Even a backwater world like Groac can kill a lot of people when it runs amok.”
“What I didn’t know,” the captain went on, “was that we’re not in a stable orbit. We’re going to graze atmosphere pretty deeply this pass, and in another sixty days we’d be back to stay. I guess the Groaci would be ready for us.”
“No wonder they were sitting on this so tight. They were almost in the clear.”
“And you’re here now,” the captain said. “Nine years, and we weren’t forgotten. I knew we could count on—”
“It’s over now, Captain. That’s what counts.”
“Home . . . After nine years . . .”
“I’d like to take a look at the films you mentioned,” Retief said. “The ones showing the installations on the satellite.”
The captain complied. Retief watched as the scene unrolled, showing the bleak surface of the tiny moon as the Terrific had seen it, nine years before. In harsh black and white, row on row of identical hulls cast long shadows across the pitted metallic surface of the satellite.
“They had quite a little surprise planned; your visit must have panicked them,” Retief said.
“They should be about ready to go, by now. Nine years . . .”
“Hold that picture,” Retief said suddenly. “What’s that ragged black line across the plain there?”
“I think it’s a fissure. The crystalline structure—”
“I’ve got what may be an idea,” Retief said. “I had a look at some classified files last night, at the Foreign Office. One was a progress report on a fissionable stock-pile. It didn’t make much sense at the time. Now I get the picture. Which is the north end of that crevasse?”
“At the top of the picture.”
“Unless I’m badly mistaken, that’s the bomb dump. The Groaci like to tuck things underground. I wonder what a direct hit with a 50 megaton missile would do to it?”
“If that’s an ordnance storage dump,” the captain said, “it’s an experiment I’d like to try.”
“Can you hit it?”
“I’ve got fifty heavy missiles aboard. If I fire them in direct sequence, it should saturate the defenses. Yes, I can hit it.”
“The range isn’t too great?”
“These are the deluxe models.” The captain smiled balefully. “Video guidance. We could steer them into a bar and park ’em on a stool.”
“What do you say we try it?”
“I’ve been wanting a solid target for a long time,” the captain said.
* * ** * *
Half an hour later, Retief propelled Shluh into a seat before the screen.
“That expanding dust cloud used to be the satellite of Groac, Shluh,” he said. “Looks like something happened to it.”
The police chief stared at the picture.
“Too bad,” Retief said. “But then it wasn’t of any importance, was it, Shluh?”
Shluh muttered incomprehensibly.
* * *
“Just a bare hunk of iron, Shluh, as the Foreign Office assured me when I asked for information.”
“I wish you’d keep your prisoner out of sight,” the captain said. “I have a hard time keeping my hands off him.”
“Shluh wants to help, Captain. He’s been a bad boy and I have a feeling he’d like to co-operate with us now, especially in view of the eminent arrival of a Terrestrial ship, and the dust cloud out there,” Retief said.
“What do you mean?”
“Captain, you can ride it out for another week, contact the ship when it arrives, get a tow in, and your troubles are over. When your films are shown in the proper quarter, a Peace Force will come out here and reduce Groac to a sub-technical cultural level and set up a monitor system to insure she doesn’t get any more expansionist ideas—not that she can do much now, with her handy iron mine in the sky gone.”
“That’s right, and—”
“On the other hand, there’s what I might call the diplomatic approach . . .”
He explained at length. The captain looked at him thoughtfully.
“I’ll go along,” he said. “What about this fellow?”
Retief turned to Shluh. The Groacian shuddered, retracting his eye stalks.
“I will do it,” he said faintly.
“Right,” Retief said. “Captain, if you’ll have your men bring in the transmitter from the shuttle, I’ll place a call to a fellow named Fith at the Foreign Office.” He turned to Shluh. “And when I get him, Shluh, you’ll do everything exactly as I’ve told you—or have Terrestrial monitors dictating in Groac City.”
* * *
“Quite candidly, Retief,” Counselor Nitworth said, “I’m rather nonplussed. Mr. Fith of the Foreign Office seemed almost painfully lavish in your praise. He seems most eager to please you. In the light of some of the evidence I’ve turned up of highly irregular behavior on your part, it’s difficult to understand.”
“Fith and I have been through a lot together,” Retief said. “We understand each other.”
“You have no cause for complacency, Retief,” Nitworth said. “Miss Meuhl was quite justified in reporting your case. Of course, had she known that you were assisting Mr. Fith in his marvelous work, she would have modified her report somewhat, no doubt. You should have confided in her.”
“Fith wanted to keep it secret, in case it didn’t work out. You know how it is.”
“Of course. And as soon as Miss Meuhl recovers from her nervous breakdown, there’ll be a nice promotion awaiting her. The girl more than deserves it for her years of unswerving devotion to Corps policy.”
“Unswerving,” Retief said. “I’ll go along with that.”
“As well you may, Retief. You’ve not acquitted yourself well in this assignment. I’m arranging for a transfer; you’ve alienated too many of the local people.”
“But as you said, Fith speaks highly of me . . .”
“True. It’s the cultural intelligentsia I’m referring to. Miss Meuhl’s records show that you deliberately affronted a number of influential groups by boycotting—”
“Tone deaf,” Retief said. “To me a Groacian blowing a nose-whistle sounds like a Groacian blowing a nose-whistle.”
“You have to come to terms with local aesthetic values. Learn to know the people as they really are. It’s apparent from some of the remarks Miss Meuhl quoted in her report that you held the Groaci in rather low esteem. But how wrong you were. All the while they were working unceasingly to rescue those brave lads marooned aboard our cruiser. They pressed on, even after we ourselves had abandoned the search. And when they discovered that it had been a collision with their satellite which disabled the craft, they made that magnificent gesture—unprecedented. One hundred thousand credits in gold to each crew member, as a token of Groacian sympathy.”
“A handsome gesture,” Retief murmured.
“I hope, Retief, that you’ve learned from this incident. In view of the helpful part you played in advising Mr. Fith in matters of procedure to assist in his search, I’m not recommending a reduction in grade. We’ll overlook the affair, give you a clean slate. But in the future, I’ll be watching you closely.”
“You can’t win ’em all,” Retief said.
“You’d better pack up; you’ll be coming along with us in the morning.” Nitworth shuffled his papers together. “I’m sorry that I can’t file a more flattering report on you. I would have liked to recommend your promotion, along with Miss Meuhl’s.”
“That’s okay,” Retief said. “I have my memories.”
Ultimatum
” . . . into the chaotic Galactic political scene of the post-Concordiat era, the CDT emerged to carry forward the ancient diplomatic tradition as a great supranational organization dedicated to the contravention of war. As mediators of disputes among Terrestrial-settled worlds and advocates of Terrestrial interests in contacts with alien cultures, Corps diplomats, trained in the chanceries of innumerable defunct bureaucracies, displayed an encyclopedic grasp of the nuances of Estra-Terrestrial mores as set against the labyrinthine socio-politico-economic Galactic context. Ever-zealous in its enforcement of peace, the Corps traditionally has functioned at its most scintillating level under the threat of imminent annihilation. Facing overwhelming forces at Roolit I, steely-eyed Ambassador Nitworth met the challenge unflinchingly, coolly planning his coup . . .”