Sly, brave and truculent, the Qornt
held all humans in contempt--except one!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1963.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I
Ambassador Nitworth glowered across his mirror-polished, nine-foot
platinum desk at his assembled staff.
"Gentlemen, are any of you familiar with a race known as the Qornt?"
There was a moment of profound silence. Nitworth leaned forward,
looking solemn.
"They were a warlike race known in this sector back in Concordiat
times, perhaps two hundred years ago. They vanished as suddenly as
they had appeared. There was no record of where they went." He paused
for effect.
"They have now reappeared--occupying the inner planet of this system!"
"But, sir," Second Secretary Magnan offered. "That's uninhabited
Terrestrial territory...."
"Indeed, Mr. Magnan?" Nitworth smiled icily. "It appears the Qornt do
not share that opinion." He plucked a heavy parchment from a folder
before him, harrumphed and read aloud:
His Supreme Excellency The Qorn, Regent of Qornt, Over-Lord of the
Galactic Destiny, Greets the Terrestrials and, with reference to
the presence in mandated territory of Terrestrial squatters, has
the honor to advise that he will require the use of his outer world
on the thirtieth day. Then will the Qornt come with steel and fire.
Receive, Terrestrials, renewed assurances of my awareness of your
existence, and let Those who dare gird for the contest.
"Frankly, I wouldn't call it conciliatory," Magnan said.
Nitworth tapped the paper with a finger.
"We have been served, gentlemen, with nothing less than an Ultimatum!"
"Well, we'll soon straighten these fellows out--" the Military Attache
began.
"There happens to be more to this piece of truculence than appears on
the surface," the Ambassador cut in. He paused, waiting for interested
frowns to settle into place.
"Note, gentlemen, that these invaders have appeared on terrestrial
controlled soil--and without so much as a flicker from the instruments
of the Navigational Monitor Service!"
The Military Attache blinked. "That's absurd," he said flatly. Nitworth
slapped the table.
"We're up against something new, gentlemen! I've considered every
hypothesis from cloaks of invisibility to time travel! The fact is--the
Qornt fleets are indetectible!"
* * * * *
The Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. "In that case, we can't
try conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible drive
of our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime--"
"I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing," the Chief of the
Confidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. "I'll fit out a
couple of volunteers with plastic beaks--"
"No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will be
worked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role will
be a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,
well rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Any
recommendation?"
The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. "What about a
stiff Note demanding an extra week's time?"
"No! No begging," the Economic Officer objected. "I'd say a calm,
dignified, aggressive withdrawal--as soon as possible."
"We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily," the Military
Attache said. "Let's delay the withdrawal--say, until tomorrow."
"Early tomorrow," Magnan said. "Or maybe later today."
"Well, I see you're of a mind with me," Nitworth nodded. "Our plan of
action is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a population
of over fifteen million individuals to relocate." He eyed the
Political Officer. "I want five proposals for resettlement on my desk
by oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow." Nitworth rapped out instructions.
Harried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnan
eased toward the door.
"Where are you going, Magnan?" Nitworth snapped.
"Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. It
was a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure to
let us know how it works out."
"Kindly return to your chair," Nitworth said coldly. "A number of
chores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little field
experience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at these
Qornt personally."
Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
"Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?"
"Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose my
head and do something rash if I go."
"Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.
No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify the
transport pool at once. Now get going!"
Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.
"Oh, Retief," Nitworth said. Retief turned.
"Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves--in any
direction."