Galactic Diplomat (37 page)

“Niceties! Never in history has such an abomination been perpetrated!”

“Oh, treaties are always worked out this way, when it comes
right down to it. We’ve just accelerated the process a little. Now, if you’ll
just sign like a good fellow, we’ll be on our way. Georges will have his work
cut out for him, planning how to use all this reparations money.”

The Aga Kaga gnashed his teeth; Georges prodded. The Aga Kaga
seized the pen and scrawled his name. Retief signed with a flourish. He tucked
the treaty away in his briefcase, took out another paper.

“This is just a safe-conduct, to get us out of the door and
into the car,” he said. “Probably unnecessary, but it won’t hurt to have it, in
case you figure out some way to avoid your obligations as a host.”

The Aga Kaga signed the document after another prod from
Georges.

“One more paper, and I’ll be into the jugular,” he said.

“We’re
all through now,” said Retief. “Stanley, we’re going to have to run now. I’m
going to strap up your hands and feet a trifle; it shouldn’t take you more than
ten minutes or so to get loose, stick a band-aid over that place on your neck,
and get back in your grape-eating pose.”

“My men will cut you down for the rascals you are!”

“—By that time, we’ll be over the hill,” Retief continued.
“At full throttle, we’ll be at Government House in an hour, and of course I
won’t waste any time transmitting the treaty to Sector HQ. And the same concern
for face that keeps you from yelling for help will ensure that the details of
the negotiation remain our secret.”

“Treaty! That scrap of paper—”

“I confess the Corps is a little sluggish about taking action
at times,” Retief said, whipping a turn of silken cord around the Aga Kaga’s
ankles. “But once it’s got signatures on a legal treaty, it’s extremely
stubborn about all parties’ adhering to the letter. It can’t afford to be
otherwise, as I’m sure you’ll understand.” He cinched up the cord, went to work
on the hands. The Aga Kaga glared at him balefully.

“To the Pit with the Corps! The ferocity of my revenge—”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Stanley. There are several squadrons of
Peace Enforcers cruising in the Sector just now. I’m sure you’re not ready to
make any historical errors by taking them on.” Retief finished and stood up.

“Georges, just stuff a scarf in Stanley’s mouth. I think he’d
prefer to work quietly until he recovers his dignity.” Retief buckled his
briefcase, selected a large grape, and looked down at the Aga Kaga.

“Actually,
you’ll be glad you saw things our way, Stanley,” he said. “You’ll get all the
credit for the generous settlement. Of course, it will be a striking precedent
for any other negotiations that may become necessary if you get grabby on
other worlds in this region. And if your advisors want to know why the sudden
change of heart, just tell them you’ve decided to start from scratch on an unoccupied
world. Mention the virtues of thrift and hard work. I’m confident you can find
plenty of historical examples to support you.”

“Thanks for the drink,” said Georges. “Drop in on me at
Government House some time and we’ll crack another bottle.”

“And don’t feel bad about your project’s going awry,” said
Retief. “In the words of the Prophet, ‘Stolen goods are never sold at a loss.’
”

“A remarkable about-face, Retief,” Magnan said. “Let this be
a lesson to you. A stern Note of Protest can work wonders.”

“A lot depends on the method of delivery,” Retief said.

“Nonsense. I knew all along the Aga Kagans were a reasonable,
peace-loving people. One of the advantages of senior rank, of course, is the
opportunity to see the big picture. Why, I was saying only this morning—”

The desk screen broke into life. The mottled jowls of
Under-Secretary Sternwheeler appeared.

“Magnan! I’ve just learned of the Flamme affair. Who’s
responsible?”

“Why, ah . . . I suppose that I might be
said—”

“This is your work, is it?”

“Well . . . Mr.
Retief did play the role of messenger—”

“Don’t pass the buck, Magnan!” the Under-Secretary barked.
“What the devil went on out there?”

“Why, just a routine Protest Note. Everything is quite in
order—”

“Bah! Your over-zealousness has cost me dear. I was feeding
Flamme to the Aga Kaga to consolidate our position of moral superiority for
use as a lever in a number of important negotiations. Now they’ve backed out.
The Aga Kaga emerges from the affair wreathed in virtue. You’ve destroyed a
very pretty finesse in power politics, Mr. Magnan! A year’s work down the
drain!”

“But I thought—”

“I doubt that, Mr. Magnan. I doubt that very much!” The
Under-Secretary rang off.

“This is a fine turn of events,” Magnan groaned. “Retief, you
know very well Protest Notes are merely intended for the historical record; no
one ever takes them seriously.”

“You and the Aga Kaga ought to get together,” said Retief.
“He’s a great one for citing historical parallels. He’s not a bad fellow, as a
matter of fact. I have an invitation from him to visit Kaga and go mud-pig
hunting. He was so impressed by Corps methods that he wants to be sure we’re on
his side next time. Why don’t you come along?”

“Mmmm. Perhaps I should cultivate him. A few high-level
contacts never do any harm. On the other hand, I understand he lives in a very
loose way, feasting and merry-making. Frivolous in the extreme. No wife, I
understand, but hordes of light-clad women about. And in that connection, the
Aga Kagans have some very curious notions as to what constitutes proper
hospitality to guests.”

Retief rose, pulled on the powder blue cloak and black velvet
gauntlets of a Career Minister.

“Don’t let it worry you,” he said. “You’ll have a great time.
And as the Aga Kaga would say, ‘Ugliness is the best safeguard of virginity.’”