Read Online Retief-Ambassador to Space by Keith Laumer - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Laumer
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hostilities!" the
Ambassador was declaring. "Now, I have a new formula, based on the battle
lines of the tenth day of the third week of the Moon of Limitless Imbibing, as
modified by the truce team's proposals of the second week of the Moon of
Ceaseless Complaining, up-dated in accordance with Corps Policy Number
746358-b, as amended—"
"That's thoughtful of you, Hector," Barf held up
a tactile member in a restraining gesture. "But as it happens, inasmuch as
this will be the final campaign of the War for Liberation of the Homeland,
peacemaking efforts become nugatory."
"I seem to recall similar predictions at the time of
the Fall Campaign, the pre-Winter Offensive, the Winter Counteroffensive, the
post-Winter Anschluss, and the pre-Spring Push," Biteworse retorted.
"Why don't you reconsider, General, before incurring a new crop of
needless casualties?"
"Hardly needless, Hector. You need a few casualties
to sharpen up discipline. And in any case, this time things will be different.
I'm using a new technique of saturation leaflet bombing followed by intensive
victory parades, guaranteed to crumble all resistance. If you'll just sit
tight—"
"Sit tight, and have the building blown down about my
ears?" Biteworse cut in. "I'm leaving for the provinces at
once—"
"I think that would be unwise, Hector, with
conditions so unsettled. Better stay where you are. In fact, you may consider
that an order, under the provisions of martial Law. If this seems a trifle
harsh, remember, it's all in a good cause. And now I have to be moving along,
Hector. I have a new custom-built VIP-model armored car with air and music that
I'm dying to test drive. Ta-ta." The screen blanked abruptly.
"This is fantastic!" The Ambassador stared
around at his staff for corroboration of his assessment of the situation.
"In the past, the opposing armies have at least made a pretense of
respecting diplomatic privilege; now they're openly proposing to make us the
center of a massive combined land, sea, and air strike!"
"We'll have to contact Lib Glip at once," the
Political Officer said urgently. "Perhaps we can convince him that the
capital should be declared an open city!"
"Sound notion, Oscar," the Ambassador agreed. He
mopped at his forehead with a large monogrammed tissue. "Retief, keep
trying until you reach him."
Half a minute later, the circular visage of the Gloian
Foreign Minister appeared on the screen, against a background of passing
shopfronts seen through a car window. Two bright black eyes peered through a
tangle of thick tendrils not unlike a tangerine-dyed oil mop capped by a
leather Lindy cap with goggles.
"Hi, fellows," he greeted the Terrans airily.
"Sorry to break our lunch date, Biteworse, but you know how foreign affairs
are: Here today and gone to dinner, as the saying goes, I think. But never mind
that. What I really called you about was—"
"It was I who called you!" the Ambassador
broke in. "See here, Lib Glip; a highly placed confidential source has
advised me that the capital is about to become the objective of an all-out
Blort assault. Now, I think it only fair that your people should relinquish the
city peaceably, so as to avoid a possible interplanetary incident—"
"Oh, that big-mouth Barf has been at you again, eh?
Well, relax, fellows; everything's going to be OK. I have a surprise in store
for those indigo indigents."
"You've decided to propose a unilateral
cease-fire?" Biteworse blurted. "A munificent gesture—"
"Are you kidding, Biteworse? Show the white feather while
those usurpers are still in full possession of our hallowed mother world?"
The Gloian leaned into the screen. "I'll let you in on a little secret.
The retreat is just a diversionary measure to suck Barf into over-extending his
lines. As soon as he's poured all his available reinforcements into this dry
run—whammo! I hit him with a nifty hidden-ball play around left end and land a
massive expeditionary force on Blort! At one blow, I'll regain the
Ambassador was declaring. "Now, I have a new formula, based on the battle
lines of the tenth day of the third week of the Moon of Limitless Imbibing, as
modified by the truce team's proposals of the second week of the Moon of
Ceaseless Complaining, up-dated in accordance with Corps Policy Number
746358-b, as amended—"
"That's thoughtful of you, Hector," Barf held up
a tactile member in a restraining gesture. "But as it happens, inasmuch as
this will be the final campaign of the War for Liberation of the Homeland,
peacemaking efforts become nugatory."
"I seem to recall similar predictions at the time of
the Fall Campaign, the pre-Winter Offensive, the Winter Counteroffensive, the
post-Winter Anschluss, and the pre-Spring Push," Biteworse retorted.
"Why don't you reconsider, General, before incurring a new crop of
needless casualties?"
"Hardly needless, Hector. You need a few casualties
to sharpen up discipline. And in any case, this time things will be different.
I'm using a new technique of saturation leaflet bombing followed by intensive
victory parades, guaranteed to crumble all resistance. If you'll just sit
tight—"
"Sit tight, and have the building blown down about my
ears?" Biteworse cut in. "I'm leaving for the provinces at
once—"
"I think that would be unwise, Hector, with
conditions so unsettled. Better stay where you are. In fact, you may consider
that an order, under the provisions of martial Law. If this seems a trifle
harsh, remember, it's all in a good cause. And now I have to be moving along,
Hector. I have a new custom-built VIP-model armored car with air and music that
I'm dying to test drive. Ta-ta." The screen blanked abruptly.
"This is fantastic!" The Ambassador stared
around at his staff for corroboration of his assessment of the situation.
"In the past, the opposing armies have at least made a pretense of
respecting diplomatic privilege; now they're openly proposing to make us the
center of a massive combined land, sea, and air strike!"
"We'll have to contact Lib Glip at once," the
Political Officer said urgently. "Perhaps we can convince him that the
capital should be declared an open city!"
"Sound notion, Oscar," the Ambassador agreed. He
mopped at his forehead with a large monogrammed tissue. "Retief, keep
trying until you reach him."
Half a minute later, the circular visage of the Gloian
Foreign Minister appeared on the screen, against a background of passing
shopfronts seen through a car window. Two bright black eyes peered through a
tangle of thick tendrils not unlike a tangerine-dyed oil mop capped by a
leather Lindy cap with goggles.
"Hi, fellows," he greeted the Terrans airily.
"Sorry to break our lunch date, Biteworse, but you know how foreign affairs
are: Here today and gone to dinner, as the saying goes, I think. But never mind
that. What I really called you about was—"
"It was I who called you!" the Ambassador
broke in. "See here, Lib Glip; a highly placed confidential source has
advised me that the capital is about to become the objective of an all-out
Blort assault. Now, I think it only fair that your people should relinquish the
city peaceably, so as to avoid a possible interplanetary incident—"
"Oh, that big-mouth Barf has been at you again, eh?
Well, relax, fellows; everything's going to be OK. I have a surprise in store
for those indigo indigents."
"You've decided to propose a unilateral
cease-fire?" Biteworse blurted. "A munificent gesture—"
"Are you kidding, Biteworse? Show the white feather while
those usurpers are still in full possession of our hallowed mother world?"
The Gloian leaned into the screen. "I'll let you in on a little secret.
The retreat is just a diversionary measure to suck Barf into over-extending his
lines. As soon as he's poured all his available reinforcements into this dry
run—whammo! I hit him with a nifty hidden-ball play around left end and land a
massive expeditionary force on Blort! At one blow, I'll regain the
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