LITMIR.BIZ

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      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.

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