Retief-Ambassador to Space (27 page)

Two thirds of the way down the sheer
wall of the coral reef, a small figure caught Retief s eye, perched
disconsolately in a crevice in the rock. He swung closer, saw the spindly
shanks and five-eyed visage of a Groaci, his once-splendid raiment in tatters.

"Well, Field Marshal Shish,"
he called. "What's the matter, conditions down below not to your
liking?"

"Ambasador Shish, if you
please," the castaway hissed in sorrowful Groaci. "To leave me in
solitude, Soft One; to have suffered enough."

"Not nearly enough," Retief
contradicted. "However, all is not yet lost. I take it your valiant troops
have encountered some sort of difficulty below?"

"The spawn of the pits fell upon
us while I was in my bath!" the Groaci whispered, speaking Terran now.
"They snapped up a dozen of my chaps before I could spring from the tub of
hot sand in which I had been luxuriating! I was fortunate to escape with my
life! And then your shoddy Terran-made harness failed and dropped me here.
Alack! Gone are the dreams of a procuratorship . ' '

"Maybe not." Retief
maneuvered in close, held out a hand. "I'll give you a piggyback, and
explain how matters stand. Maybe you can still salvage something from the
wreckage."

Shish canted his eye-stalks.
"Piggyback? Are you insane, Retief? Why, there's nothing holding you up!
How can it hold
two
of us up?"

"Take it or leave it, Mr.
Ambassador," Retief said. "I have a tight schedule."

"I'll take it." Shish
gingerly swung his scrawny frame out and scrambled to a perch on Retief s back,
four of his eyes sphinctered tight shut. "But if I hadn't already been
contemplating suicide, nothing would have coaxed me to it!"

Five minutes later, Retief heard a
hail; he dropped down, settled onto a narrow ledge beside the slight figure of
Ambassador Oldtrick. The senior diplomat had lost his natty beret, and there was
a scratch on his cheek. His flight harness, its gasbag flat, hung on a point of
the rock behind him.

"What's this?" he blurted.
"Who's captured whom? Retief, are you—did he ..."

"Everything's fine, Your
Excellency," Retief said soothingly. "I'll just leave His Groacian
Excellency here with you. I've had a little talk with him, and he has something
he wants to tell you. The staff will be along in a moment."

"But—you can't—" Oldtrick
broke off as a dark shadow flitted across the rock. "Duck! It's that confounded
cloud back again!"

"It's all right," Retief
called as he launched himself into space. "It's on our side now."

13

At the long table in the main dining
room aboard the heavy Corps transport which had been called in to assist in the
repatriation of the Groaci Youth Scouts marooned on Zoon after the local fauna
had devoured their ship, encampment, equipment, and supplies, Magnan nudged
Retief.

"Rather a surprising about-face
on the part of Ambassador Shish," he muttered. "When that fake cloud
dumped us off on the rock ledge with him, I feared the worst."

"I think he'd had a spiritual
experience down below that made him see the light," Retief suggested.

"Quite an equitable division of
spheres of influence the Ambassadors agreed on," Magnan went on. "The
Groaci seem quite pleased with the idea of erecting blastproof barriers to
restrain those ferocious little eaters to one half the planet, and acting as
herdsmen over them, in return for the privilege of collecting their hair after
moulting season."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they
didn't sneak out a few pelts beforehand," Colonel Smartfinger leaned to
contribute. "Still, the Zooners don't seem to mind, eh, Ornx?" He
cocked an eye at his neighbor.

"No problem," the Zooner
said airily. "We're glad
to wink at a few little violations in return for free access to our own real
estate."

There was a sharp dinging as
Ambassador Oldtrick tapped his glass with a fork and rose.

"Gentlemen—gentlebeings, I should
say—" he smirked at the Groaci and
Zooners
seated along the board.
"It's my pleasure to announce the signing of the Terran-Zoon accord, under
the terms of which we've been ceded all rights in the coral reef of our choice
on which to place our chancery, well out of reach of those nasty little—that
is, the untutored—I mean, er, playfully inclined ..." he quailed under the
combined glares of a dozen rows of pink eyes.

"If he brings those abominations
into the conversation again, I'm walking out," Qoj said loudly.

"So we're going to be relegated
to the top of that dreadful skyscraper?" Magnan groaned. "I suppose
we'll all be commuting by patent gasbag—"

"Ah!" Oldtrick brightened,
glad of a change of subject. "I couldn't help overhearing your remark,
Magnan. And I'm pleased to announce that I have just this afternoon developed a
startling new improvement to my flight harness. Observe!" All eyes were on
the Ambassador as he rose gently into the air, hung, beaming down from a height
of six feet.

"I should mention that I had some
assistance from Mr. Retief in, ah, working out some of the
technicalities," he murmured as the Terrans crowded around, competing for
the privilege of offering their congratulations.

"Heavens! And he's not even
wearing a balloon!" Magnan gasped as he rose to join the press. "How
do you suppose he does it?"

"Easy," Qoj grunted.
"He's got a pocketful of prime-quality Zooner spore-pods."

Beside him, Ambassador Shish gave an
annoyed hiss. "Somehow, I can't escape the conviction that we Groaci have
been had again—." He rose and stalked from the room.

"Hmph," Magnan sniffed,
"he got what he wanted, didn't he?"

"True," Retief said.
"But it's some people's ill luck to always want the wrong thing."

V1.2:  Compilation of short stories
from other collections to make an “as published Ambassador to Space.  These
stories were all reprints at the time the book was published.  No changes to
the text were made.

V1.1: Proofed and forced into shape
with TOC as well (rubl)

Note1:
THE FOREST IN THE SKY
goes from chapter 2 to 4, checked with dead-tree version

V1.0: Scanned by Aristotle.