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

course mean nothink
to His Arrokanze, but the deadliest of the zinz is Stinchiness. His Arrokanze
detests a tightwad.” He moved off, chains clashing.
    “The Ambassador’s not out yet,” Magnan noted nervously.
“Gracious, I hope he puts in an appearance before Pope Ai-Poppy-Googy arrives.
I dread the prospect of having to engage His Arrogance in light chitchat.”
    “According to the Post Report, dealing with the Pope is very
simple,” Retief said. “Just give him everything in sight, and if that doesn’t
satisfy him, give him some more.”
    “I can see that you’re getting the hang of diplomacy,
Retief,” Magnan said approvingly. “Still, I’m worried . . .”
    “Since it’s your job as Protocol Officer to soften up
difficult guests,” Retief said, “why not meet the Pope at the gate and try out
a few racy stories on him?”
    “I hardly imagine that the Chief of State of a Theocracy
would react favorably to biological anecdotes,” Magnan said stiffly.
    “Oh, biology is a perfectly clean subject here on Hoog; but don’t
bring up cooking in polite conversation. According to the handbook, there’s an
unspoken agreement among the cultured element that the stork brings the
goodies.”
    “Really? Heavens, and all the cookies are stamped ‘Made in
Hong Kong’! I’ll have to tell the cook to substitute blintzes. While I’m
attending to that, you’d best take your post at the gate. You’ll handle the
first shift tonight. I’ll send Stringwhistle along to relieve you in an hour.”
    “I could delay the Pope a few minutes for you,” Retief offered,
as they crossed to the gate. “Suppose I start by demanding to see his
invitation—”
    “None of your ill-timed japes, Retief! After the last
mission’s fiasco, establishing a friendly rapport with the Pope tonight could
mean promotions all around.”
    “I think the traditional lawn party is a little too subtle
for a fellow like the Pope. We should have used a simpler symbolism—like a few
rounds of heavy artillery lobbed into the palace grounds.”
    “Hardly the diplomatic approach,” Magnan sniffed. “For
centuries now it’s been understood that if enough diplomats go to enough
parties, everything will come right in the end.”
    “I wonder if the Hoogans understand that tradition?”
    “Certainly; after all, we’re all fellow beings—brothers under
the skin, as it were.”
    “In this case, the skin is an inch thick and tougher than
armorplast. I’m not sure we can penetrate to the brotherhood layer in time to
save bloodshed.”
    “Actually, I rather look forward to matching epigrams with
His Arrogance tonight,” Magnan said loftily, turning to scan the gardens. “As
you know, I’m always at my sparkling best with high-ranking guests—and of
course, mere size and strength fail utterly to intimidate me—” Magnan turned at
a sound behind him, uttered a strangled yelp, and trampled a Hoog waiter’s foot
as he leaped back from the spectacle of a seven-foot-high, six-foot-wide Hoog
wrapped in cloth of gold. The monster’s gilded features included one-inch nose
holes, huge watery, reddish eyes and a wide mouth set in a formal grimace to
display polished gold-capped teeth. Two clusters of ringed fingers gripped the
hilt of an immense two-edged sword.
    “Somethink smells pat!” the apparition bellowed. He leaned
forward, sniffed vigorously at Magnan and snorted.
    “Horriple!” he announced, elbowing Magnan aside. “Ko away,
vellow! You’re invested with an acute P.O.!”
    “Why, Your Arrogance—it’s just a touch of skin bracer back of
my ear—”
    “It smelts like pargain night in a choy house. Where’s
Ambassador Hapstrinker? I drust you have blenty of food reaty. I understant you
Terries take a kreat interesd in gooking.” The Pope winked a damp pink eye,
rammed Magnan under the ribs and guffawed comfortably.
    “Oof!” Magnan said. “Why, Your Arrogance!”
    The
Pope was already striding toward the nearest table, his