Read Online Galactic Diplomat by Keith Laumer - Free Book Online Page A

“Finish
off unfortunate victim of Terry violence.”
    “Stop!” Magnan yelled. “Are you out of your mind?”
    “Inzult to Overseer caste briest cosd you two more gredits.
For you I mage special brice, three for five—”
    “Bribery?” Magnan gasped. “Corruption?”
    “Three it is,” the Hoogan nodded. “How apout you?” he turned
to Retief. “You sport like other Terry?”
    “Look here, I’m paying you nothing!” Magnan barked. “Just
assist this unfortunate chap out of here, if you please, and we’ll get on with
our dressing!”
    “Small religious contributions fine old Hoogan gustom!” the
Overseer protested. “You want to fiolate local tapoos?”
    “We Terrans have a few customs of our own,” Retief put in
smoothly. “We feel that graft should only be paid voluntarily.” He offered a
note which the officer palmed deftly. The guard was on his feet now, swaying;
the captain barked an order; his subordinate gathered up the spear fragments,
shot Magnan a poisonous look and departed, followed by the captain.
    Retief closed the door behind the departing visitors, fished
out the scrap of paper dropped by the fleeing Spism, opened it out:
     
    BY
THE OGRE FOUNTAIN AT SECOND
MOONRISE; WEAR A YELLOW DUNGFLOWER
     
    Magnan, busy at the mirror again, heaved a deep sigh.
    “Hardly an auspicious beginning,” he commented. Then:
“Heavens! It’s twenty thirty! We’re late!” He gave his sarong a final tug,
smoothed a thinning lock across his forehead, led the way along the echoing
hall and down a spiral stair to an archway debouching onto wide steps above a
ragged lawn. Blue lanterns hanging in the branches of skeletal trees shed a wan
radiance on the fungus-like ornamental plants, the sculptures representing
souls in torment, and the wide tables laden with Terran delicacies hastily
unloaded from the Corps transport for the occasion. A dozen grotesquely shaped
fountains spread a fine mist and an odor of sulphur across the festive scene.
Beyond the high, spike-topped wall, the ominous shape of an immense
brass-colored idol reared up half a mile away, its ferocious sculptured grin
glowing in the glare of spotlights, its right arm raised in the Hoogan royal
salute, elbow straight out, forearm pointing upward with fingers spread, the
left hand gripping the right biceps. Magnan shuddered.
    “That beastly idol—it’s sub-Hoogan,” he commented. “Isn’t
that smoke coming out of its nostrils?”
    Retief sniffed. “Something’s burning,” he agreed.
    A
dark figure stepped up from dense shadow at Magnan’s elbow. “Only old
newsbapers you scent,” it rumbled. “Our Hoogan Kods are uzeful; they zerve as
gommunity inzinerators.”
    “Oh-Doomy-Gloom! You startled me!” Magnan chirped. He slapped
at an insect that buzzed his face. “I do hope the evening is a big success. It
was so thoughtful of His Arrogance to allow the Corps to act as host tonight;
such a gesture of acceptance, sort of.”
    “Reverze hosbitality is an old Hoogan gustom,” Oh-Doomy-Gloom
said. “It would be a good idea to know all our old Hoogan gustoms, so as not to
end up lige the last Derran Tiplomat.”
    “Yes, it was unfortunate about Ambassador Straphanger’s
predecessor getting excommunicated, and all. But really, how was he to know he
was supposed to fill the Papal begging bowl with hundred-credit notes?”
    “It wasn’t zo much not contributink; but pourink the canned
beans in spoiled the bill His Arrokanze had planted as a hint.”
    “A bad scene,” Magnan agreed. “But I’m sure this evening will
smooth everything over.”
    The orchestra was tuning up now; lugubrious notes groaned
across the lawn. Armed Papal guards were taking up their posts, and sarong-clad
diplomats were forming up a receiving line by the stone arch opening on the
drive through which the dignitaries would arrive.
    “I must hurry alonk now and zee to the kun emplazements,”
Oh-Doomy-Gloom said. “One lasd suggestion: worldly goods of