"—affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenable position. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and the presumed death of, uh, Slop."

"The Fustians understand," said Retief. "Whonk wasn't kidding about ceremonial vengeance."

"The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege," said Magnan. "I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: less formal...."

"The Moss Rock was bound for Groaci," said Retief. "She was already in her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive on schedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display. I think that should be all the aide 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."

"That's true," said Magnan, 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 objection, 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," said Magnan. "We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—"

"Count me out. All groups give me an itch."

"Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats are ourselves a group."

"Uh-huh," Retief said.

Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into the hall and closed the door gently behind him.

 Prev. P 18/18