The Keith Laumer MEGAPACK®: 21 Classic Stories. Keith Laumer

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СКАЧАТЬ know,” Magnan said. “If you hadn’t interfered, we’d all have had our throats cut. But at least,” he added, “we’d have died in accordance with regulations!”

THE YILLIAN WAY

      Originally published in If, January 1962.

      I

      Jame Retief, vice-consul and third secretary in the Diplomatic Corps, followed the senior members of the terrestrial mission across the tarmac and into the gloom of the reception building. The gray-skinned Yill guide who had met the arriving embassy at the foot of the ramp hurried away. The councillor, two first secretaries and the senior attaches gathered around the ambassador, their ornate uniforms bright in the vast dun-colored room.

      Ten minutes passed. Retief strolled across to the nearest door and looked through the glass panel at the room beyond. Several dozen Yill lounged in deep couches, sipping lavender drinks from slender glass tubes. Black-tunicked servants moved about inconspicuously, offering trays. A party of brightly-dressed Yill moved toward the entrance doors. One of the party, a tall male, made to step before another, who raised a hand languidly, fist clenched. The first Yill stepped back and placed his hands on top of his head. Both Yill were smiling and chatting as they passed through the doors.

      Retief turned away to rejoin the Terrestrial delegation waiting beside a mound of crates made of rough greenish wood stacked on the bare concrete floor.

      As Retief came up, Ambassador Spradley glanced at his finger watch and spoke to the man beside him.

      “Ben, are you quite certain our arrival time was made clear?”

      Second Secretary Magnan nodded emphatically. “I stressed the point, Mr. Ambassador. I communicated with Mr. T’Cai-Cai just before the lighter broke orbit, and I specifically——”

      “I hope you didn’t appear truculent, Mr. Magnan,” the ambassador said sharply.

      “No indeed, Mr. Ambassador. I merely——”

      “You’re sure there’s no VIP room here?” The ambassador glanced around the cavernous room. “Curious that not even chairs have been provided.”

      “If you’d care to sit on one of these crates——”

      “Certainly not.” The ambassador looked at his watch again and cleared his throat.

      “I may as well make use of these few moments to outline our approach for the more junior members of the staff; it’s vital that the entire mission work in harmony in the presentation of the image. We Terrestrials are a kindly, peace-loving race.” The ambassador smiled in a kindly, peace-loving way.

      “We seek only a reasonable division of spheres of influence with the Yill.” He spread his hands, looking reasonable.

      “We are a people of high culture, ethical, sincere.” The smile was replaced abruptly by pursed lips.

      “We’ll start by asking for the entire Sirenian System, and settle for half. We’ll establish a foothold on all the choicer worlds. And, with shrewd handling, in a century we’ll be in a position to assert a wider claim.”

      The ambassador glanced around. “If there are no questions——”

      * * * *

      Retief stepped forward. “It’s my understanding, Mr. Ambassador, that we hold the prior claim to the Sirenian System. Did I understand your Excellency to say that we’re ready to concede half of it to the Yill without a struggle?”

      Ambassador Spradley looked up at Retief, blinking. The younger man loomed over him. Beside him, Magnan cleared his throat in the silence.

      “Vice-Consul Retief merely means——”

      “I can interpret Mr. Retief’s remark,” the ambassador snapped. He assumed a fatherly expression.

      “Young man, you’re new to the Service. You haven’t yet learned the team play, the give-and-take of diplomacy. I shall expect you to observe closely the work of the experienced negotiators of the mission. You must learn the importance of subtlety.”

      “Mr. Ambassador,” Magnan said, “I think the reception committee is arriving.” He pointed. Half a dozen tall, short-necked Yill were entering through a side door. The leading Yill hesitated as another stepped in his path. He raised a fist, and the other moved aside, touching the top of his head perfunctorily with both hands. The group started across the room toward the Terrestrials. Retief watched as a slender alien came forward and spoke passable Terran in a reedy voice.

      “I am P’Toi. Come this way….” He turned, and the group moved toward the door, the ambassador leading. As he reached for the door, the interpreter darted ahead and shouldered him aside. The other Yill stopped, waiting.

      The ambassador almost glared, then remembered the image. He smiled and beckoned the Yill ahead. They milled uncertainly, muttering in the native tongue, then passed through the door.

      The Terran party followed.

      “—— give a great deal to know what they’re saying,” Retief overheard as he came up.

      “Our interpreter has forged to the van,” the ambassador said. “I can only assume he’ll appear when needed.”

      “A pity we have to rely on a native interpreter,” someone said.

      “Had I known we’d meet this rather uncouth reception,” the ambassador said stiffly, “I would have audited the language personally, of course, during the voyage out.”

      “Oh, no criticism intended, of course, Mr. Ambassador.”

      “Heavens,” Magnan put in. “Who would have thought——”

      Retief moved up behind the ambassador.

      “Mr. Ambassador,” he said, “I——”

      “Later, young man,” the ambassador snapped. He beckoned to the first councillor, and the two moved off, heads together.

      Outside, a bluish sun gleamed in a dark sky. Retief watched his breath form a frosty cloud in the chill air. A broad doughnut-wheeled vehicle was drawn up to the platform. The Yill gestured the Terran party to the gaping door at the rear, then stood back, waiting.

      Retief looked curiously at the gray-painted van. The legend written on its side in alien symbols seemed to read “egg nog.”

      * * * *

      The ambassador entered the vehicle, the other Terrestrials following. It was as bare of seats as the Terminal building. What appeared to be a defunct electronic chassis lay in the center of the floor.

      Retief glanced back. The Yill were talking excitedly. None of them entered the car. The door was closed, and the Terrans braced themselves under the low roof as the engine started up with a whine of worn turbos.

      The van moved off.

      It was an uncomfortable ride. Retief put out an arm as the vehicle rounded a corner, just catching the ambassador as he staggered, СКАЧАТЬ