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Authors: Keith Laumer

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"Frankly, I'd be
tempted to dismiss the incident involving the rutabagas as sheer
delirium," Colonel Warbutton put in glumly, spooning in caviar, "if
it weren't for the fact that I've suffered a virulent recurrence of an old
potato blight." His expression brightened. "Of course, the condition
will necessitate my being invalided out home for a few months' convalescent
leave, which time I might spend quite profitably penning a memoir of recent
events, possibly titled:
The Importance of Mass Hallucination in Military
Affairs.
"

"How about
The
Hallucinatory Importance of the Military in Mass Affairs?
" Magnan
proposed tartly.

"Gosh,
Retief," Gloot said as the men of war and peace sparred verbally. "So
you were really a Terry all along. Makes me feel kind of dumb, to of been
chumming around with the enemy. Lucky I changed sides."

"You claim there's
two kinds of Terries, male and female," Ignarp said. "Frankly, you
all look alike to me."

"Oh, there's a
vas
deferens
between us," Retief assured his guest.

"And I never got
my ransom dough," Gloot said glumly. "On the other hand, I found out
running things ain't all a bowl of cherries."

"One taste of
government was enough for me," Ignarp agreed. "I'll settle for good
old anarchy any time."

"Umm." Magnan
smiled loftily. "But of course you chaps know nothing of the intricacies of
politics. Now," he indicated the head of the table, where Jith and
Pouncetrifle huddled, tête-à-tête. "Notice the resilience with which the
ambassadors are coming to grips with the new realities, or whatever they are,
of the situation, working out the rather complex protocols of establishing
formal relations with a nonexistent government."

"As long as they
stick to shooting dispatches back to headquarters and putting on charades for
visiting politicos, OK," Gloot said. "But the first time they step
out o' line—whammo! The Legendary Magical Emperor will be back on the job—and
next time they're liable to wind up digging their way into the root cellar from
below."

"I hardly think
the Lumbagan in the street is in a position to criticize matters of Imperial
policy, Mr. Gloot," Magnan said coolly. "I hope your association with
Mr. Retief on his expedition up-country hasn't given you a false sense of
involvement in matters over your head."

"You must be
kidding, Terry," Ignarp said. "Gloot here is Minister of Imaginary
Affairs in the Lumbagan government-in-exile."

"Government-in-exile?"
Magnan frowned.

"The only place
for a government to be," Ignarp confirmed. "And I just accepted a
post with the Department of Education as Commissioner of Superstitions."

"You're stamping
them out?" Magnan queried confusedly.

"Heck no. I'm
starting new ones, in keeping with a fine old tradition dating back almost
twenty-four hours."

"Speaking of
superstitions," Warbutton said behind his hand to Magnan, "I think
we'd do well to initiate a few of our own devising. For example, a carefully
tailored myth to the effect that Terrans can work miracles—like turning water
into vintage Pepsi, for example. . . ." He broke off, staring in horror at
the glass before him which rose gracefully into the air, its contents darkening
to deep purplish red. The colonel followed it with his eyes as it took up a
position directly over his head and inverted itself, discharging a cooling
stream of effervescent fluid over the officer's startled features.

After the colonel had
left the table—a departure noted by all present, accompanied as it was by a
well-directed jet of liquid emanating apparently from thin air—Magnan dipped a
trembling finger in the puddle on the table and tasted it.

"Pepsi?"
Retief inquired.

"Burgundy."
Magnan choked. "Romanee-Conti, '24, I believe." He rose hastily.
"I think I'd best add a number of emendations to my preliminary
report," he muttered, "lest it appear that I was so shortsighted as
to doubt the existence of magic." He hurried away.

"I thought you
fellows had gone out of the miracle business pending the next crisis,"
Retief addressed Gloot and Ignarp as the two locals gripped hands across the
table. "But since you haven't, try that last one again. Only this time
don't spill any."

A moment later, they
raised three paper-thin goblets of purple wine, touched them together with a
musical clink. At the far end of the table, Ambassador Jith caught the gesture,
raised his glass in response.

"To a new era in
interplanetary relations," he whispered cheerfully. "To peace and
plenty for almost all, within reasonable limits!"

"That reminds
me," Ignarp said. "The boys in GRAB are going to be wondering why I
didn't redivide the loot along more practical lines while I was emperor."

"While you were
emperor," Gloot retorted. "While I was letting you go along for the
ride, you mean—"

"You big slob, I
was the brains of the outfit!"

"You little creep,
I handled all the tricky parts—"

"Gentlemen,"
Retief interjected, "we were about to propose a toast, remember?"

Gloot lifted his glass.
"To our friends, the good guys," he said.

"And to our
enemies, the bad guys," Ignarp added.

"And to the
hope," Retief said, "that someday we'll be able to tell which are
which."

End of Retief’s Ransom

 

V1.2: Add
italics
from the version in
Retief and the Pangalactic Pageant of Pulchritude.
Remove blank line between paragraphs to match book. (
ebookman
)

V1.1: Add my
stylesheet, correct some minor OCR errors and broken paragraphs. No italics,
need dead tree version (rubl)

V1.0: This was proofed
by the scanner and called (v1.0). The OCR program that I use interfaces with MS
Word. My scans are done so I can read the books on my smart phone and or
REB-1100 eBook reader. I use WordMagus to convert .DOC files to .RB and HTML. I
use Mobipocket Creator to convert to .PRC.

 

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