"There you are!" Miss Meuhl said, eyeing Retief over her lenses. "There
are two gentlemen waiting to see you. Groacian gentlemen."
"Government men, I imagine. Word travels fast." Retief pulled off his
cape. "This saves me the trouble of paying another call at the Foreign
Ministry."
"What have you been doing? They seem very upset, I don't mind telling
you."
"I'm sure you don't. Come along. And bring an official recorder."
Two Groaci wearing heavy eye-shields and elaborate crest ornaments
indicative of rank rose as Retief entered the room. Neither offered a
courteous snap of the mandibles, Retief noted. They were mad, all right.
"I am Fith, of the Terrestrial Desk, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Mr.
Consul," the taller Groacian said, in lisping Terran. "May I present
Shluh, of the Internal Police?"
"Sit down, gentlemen," Retief said. They resumed their seats. Miss
Meuhl hovered nervously, then sat on the edge of a comfortless chair.
"Oh, it's such a pleasure--" she began.
"Never mind that," Retief said. "These gentlemen didn't come here to
sip tea today."
"So true," Fith said. "Frankly, I have had a most disturbing report,
Mr. Consul. I shall ask Shluh to recount it." He nodded to the police
chief.
"One hour ago," The Groacian said, "a Groacian national was brought
to hospital suffering from serious contusions. Questioning of this
individual revealed that he had been set upon and beaten by a
foreigner. A Terrestrial, to be precise. Investigation by my department
indicates that the description of the culprit closely matches that of
the Terrestrial Consul."
Miss Meuhl gasped audibly.
"Have you ever heard," Retief said, looking steadily at Fith, "of a
Terrestrial cruiser, the _ISV Terrific_, which dropped from sight in
this sector nine years ago?"
"Really!" Miss Meuhl exclaimed, rising. "I wash my hands--"
"Just keep that recorder going," Retief snapped.
"I'll not be a party--"
"You'll do as you're told, Miss Meuhl," Retief said quietly. "I'm
telling you to make an official sealed record of this conversation."
Miss Meuhl sat down.
Fith puffed out his throat indignantly. "You reopen an old wound,
Mr. Consul. It reminds us of certain illegal treatment at Terrestrial
hands--"
"Hogwash," Retief said. "That tune went over with my predecessors, but
it hits a sour note with me."
"All our efforts," Miss Meuhl said, "to live down that terrible
episode! And you--"
"Terrible? I understand that a Terrestrial task force stood off Groac
and sent a delegation down to ask questions. They got some funny
answers, and stayed on to dig around a little. After a week they left.
Somewhat annoying to the Groaci, maybe--at the most. If they were
innocent."
"IF!" Miss Meuhl burst out.
"If, indeed!" Fith said, his weak voice trembling. "I must protest
your--"
* * * * *
"Save the protests, Fith. You have some explaining to do. And I don't
think your story will be good enough."
"It is for you to explain! This person who was beaten--"
"Not beaten. Just rapped a few times to loosen his memory."
"Then you admit--"
"It worked, too. He remembered lots of things, once he put his mind to
it."
Fith rose; Shluh followed suit.
"I shall ask for your immediate recall, Mr. Consul. Were it not for
your diplomatic immunity, I should do more--"
"Why did the government fall, Fith? It was just after the task force
paid its visit, and before the arrival of the first Terrestrial
diplomatic mission."
"This is an internal matter!" Fith cried, in his faint Groacian voice.
"The new regime has shown itself most amiable to you Terrestrials. It
has outdone itself--"
"--to keep the Terrestrial consul and his staff in the dark," Retief
said. "And the same goes for the few terrestrial businessmen you've
visaed. This continual round of culture; no social contacts outside the
diplomatic circle; no travel permits to visit out-lying districts, or
your satellite--"
"Enough!" Fith's mandibles quivered in distress. "I can talk no more of
this matter--"
"You'll talk to me, or there'll be a task force here in five days to do
the talking," Retief said.
"You can't!" Miss Meuhl gasped.
Retief turned a steady look on Miss Meuhl. She closed her mouth. The
Groaci sat down.
"Answer me this one," Retief said, looking at Shluh. "A few years
back--about nine, I think--there was a little parade held here. Some
curious looking creatures were captured. After being securely caged,
they were exhibited to the gentle Groaci public. Hauled through the
streets. Very educational, no doubt. A highly cultural show.
"Funny thing about these animals. They wore clothes. They seemed to
communicate with each other. Altogether it was a very amusing exhibit.
"Tell me, Shluh, what happened to those six Terrestrials after the
parade was over?"
* * * * *
Fith made a choked noise and spoke rapidly to Shluh in Groacian. Shluh
retracted his eyes, shrank down in his chair. Miss Meuhl opened her
mouth, closed it and blinked rapidly.
"How did they die?" Retief snapped. "Did you murder them, cut their
throats, shoot them or bury them alive? What amusing end did you figure
out for them? Research, maybe? Cut them open to see what made them
yell...."
"No!" Fith gasped. "I must correct this terrible false impression at
once."
"False impression, hell," Retief said. "They were Terrans! A simple
narco-interrogation would get that out of any Groacian who saw the
parade."
"Yes," Fith said weakly. "It is true, they were Terrestrials. But there
was no killing."
"They're alive?"
"Alas, no. They ... died."
Miss Meuhl yelped faintly.
"I see," Retief said. "They died."
"We tried to keep them alive, of course. But we did not know what
foods--"
"Didn't take the trouble to find out, either, did you?"
"They fell ill," Fith said. "One by one...."
"We'll deal with that question later," Retief said. "Right now, I want
more information. Where did you get them? Where did you hide the ship?
What happened to the rest of the crew? Did they 'fall ill' before the
big parade?"
"There were no more! Absolutely, I assure you!"
"Killed in the crash landing?"
"No crash landing. The ship descended intact, east of the city. The ...
Terrestrials ... were unharmed. Naturally, we feared them. They were
strange to us. We had never before seen such beings."
"Stepped off the ship with guns blazing, did they?"
"Guns? No, no guns--"
"They raised their hands, didn't they? Asked for help. You helped them;
helped them to death."
"How could we know?" Fith moaned.
"How could you know a flotilla would show up in a few months looking
for them, you mean? That was a shock, wasn't it? I'll bet you had a
brisk time of it hiding the ship, and shutting everybody up. A close
call, eh?"
"We were afraid," Shluh said. "We are a simple people. We feared the
strange creatures from the alien craft. We did not kill them, but we
felt it was as well they ... did not survive. Then, when the warships
came, we realized our error. But we feared to speak. We purged our
guilty leaders, concealed what had happened, and ... offered our
friendship. We invited the opening of diplomatic relations. We made
a blunder, it is true, a great blunder. But we have tried to make
amends...."
"Where is the ship?"
"The ship?"
"What did you do with it? It was too big to just walk off and forget.
Where is it?"
The two Groacians exchanged looks.
"We wish to show our contrition," Fith said. "We will show you the
ship."
"Miss Meuhl," Retief said. "If I don't come back in a reasonable length
of time, transmit that recording to Regional Headquarters, sealed." He
stood, looked at the Groaci.
"Let's go," he said.
* * * * *
Retief stooped under the heavy timbers shoring the entry to the cavern.
He peered into the gloom at the curving flank of the space-burned hull.
"Any lights in here?" he asked.
A Groacian threw a switch. A weak bluish glow sprang up.
Retief walked along the raised wooden catwalk, studying the ship. Empty
emplacements gaped below lensless scanner eyes. Littered decking was
visible within the half-open entry port. Near the bow the words 'IVS
Terrific B7 New Terra' were lettered in bright chrome duralloy.
"How did you get it in here?" Retief asked.
"It was hauled here from the landing point, some nine miles distant,"
Fith said, his voice thinner than ever. "This is a natural crevasse.
The vessel was lowered into it and roofed over."
"How did you shield it so the detectors didn't pick it up?"
"All here is high-grade iron ore," Fith said, waving a member. "Great
veins of almost pure metal."