Free Retief at Large by Keith Laumer Page A

Since we Groaci have no diplomatic mission
to Yale, it is most kind of the CDT to extend its good office."
     
                "Just
a minute, Mr. Fiss! How long are your tourists planning to stay on Yale? Just
during the Voom Festival, I assume?"
     
                "I
believe our visas read ... ah ... indefinite, Mr. Minister."
     
                "I'm
Magnan, Charge in the absence of the Minister," Magnan said.
     
                Fiss
waved his eyes. "The Minister is not here?"
     
                "No,
he's off mountain climbing. Very keen on sports. Now, ah, may I ask where your
other forty-nine vessels might be?"
     
                "Just
where is the Minister to be found?" Fiss enquired.
     
                "I
really can't say," Magnan sniffed. "We've had no word for two days.
Now, about your other ships." Magnan persisted.
     
                "There
are, I believe, forty-nine cities here on this charming little world,"
Fiss said smoothly. "One transport is calling at each."
     
                "Curious
way to conduct a tour." Magnan broke off as a cargo port rumbled open and
a heavy six-wheeled vehicle churned out. Rows of multi-eyed Groaci heads peered
over open sides, on which the words GROAC PLANETARY TOURS, INC. had been
hastily lettered. A second vehicle followed the first, and a third and fourth.
Magnan gaped as the emerging carriers took up positions in an orderly double
file.
     
                "Here,
what's this, Fiss?" he blurted. "These are tourists?"
     
                "Of
course? What else? Please note the presence of ladies and also a number of
lovable Groaci grubs. Yes, innocent, fun-loving tourists all."
     
                "Why
are they in armored cars?" Magnan watched as the vehicles moved off in the
direction of the towering glass temples. "Here, where are they
going?"
     
                "Since
the entire populace is fully occupied with Voom festival activities," Fiss
hissed blandly, "Groac Tours has thoughtfully arranged to occupy available
unused housing."
     
                "Why,
that's the local Holy of Holies," Magnan expostulated. "You can't go
in there!"
     
                "The
structures are not in use," Fiss whispered. "And I see no objection
on the part of the aborigines." He indicated the cab driver who was
watching indifferently as the first tractor moved under a graceful crystalline
arch into the sparkling glass-bricked avenue.
     
                "Hey,
Mac-Tic," the driver called to Retief in Yale. "Time's up. I wanna
get there before the mud cools!"
     
                "Are
you out of your mind, Mr. Fiss?" Magnan demanded. "You're
deliberately precipitating an incident! I'm warning you, I'll refer this to
Sector HQ and call for a squadron of Peace Enforcers!"
     
                "What
need for Peace Enforcers, my dear fellow?" Fiss murmured. "Peace
reigns! We are unarmed. No act of violence is contemplated."
     
                "We'll
see about this!" Magnan fumed. He turned and stamped toward the waiting
taxi.
     
                "So
thoughtful of you to welcome us," Fiss's faint voice followed him. "I
shall be calling at the Legation later to arrange a number of formalities. All
quite legal, I assure you."
     
                "It's
worse than I thought," Magnan groaned to Retief as he climbed into the
cab. "When a Groaci starts citing statutes, you can be sure there's
mischief afoot!"
     
     
III
     
                "This
is incredible!" Magnan barked at the screen where Oo-Rilikuk's
multi-colored visage nodded blandly against a background of sinuously moving
Yalcan dancing-wenches. "You calmly admit that these foreigners are
occupying every pagoda on the planet, strewing dope-stick butts and—"
     
                "This
is Voom season, Mr. Magnan," Rilikuk said reasonably. "What could be
more