"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'l............