* * * * *
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,
off-balance. The ambassador glared at him, settled his heavy tri-corner
hat and stood stiffly until the car lurched again.
Retief stooped, attempting to see out through the single dusty window.
They seemed to be in a wide street lined with low buildings.
They passed through a massive gate, up a ramp, and stopped. The door
opened. Retief looked out at a blank gray facade, broken by tiny windows
at irregular intervals. A scarlet vehicle was drawn up ahead, the Yill
reception committee emerging from it. Through its wide windows Retief
saw rich upholstery and caught a glimpse of glasses clamped to a tiny
bar.
P'Toi, the Yill interpreter, came forward, gestured to a small door.
Magnan opened it, waiting for the ambassador.
As he stepped to it, a Yill thrust himself ahead and hesitated.
Ambassador Spradley drew himself up, glaring. Then he twisted his mouth
into a frozen smile and stepped aside.
The Yill looked at each other then filed through the door.
Retief was the last to enter. As he stepped inside, a black-clad servant
slipped past him, pulled the lid from a large box by the door and
dropped in a paper tray heaped with refuse. There were alien symbols in
flaking paint on the box. They seemed, Retief noticed, to spell "egg
nog."