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self-determination for these unfortunate relics of a bygone age, and to
place the CDT in a position of paternal influence vis-a-vis their emergent
nation, the infernal Groaci have stolen a march on us again. Fake antiques,
indeed!"
"Goodness, I see what you mean, Mr. Ambassador," Magnan said
sympathetically. "Why didn't we think of doing that?"
6
In the Chancery corridor ten minutes later, Magnan mopped at his thin neck
with a large floral-patterned tissue.
"Heavens, who'd have thought he'd fly into such a passion?" he inquired of
Retief. "After all, it isn't as if those silly little gobs of mud possessed any
intrinsic merit."
"Oh, I don't know," Retief said. "They're not bad, considering that the locals
have to mass-produce them and bury them at night when nobody's looking."
"Retief!" Magnan stopped dead. "You don't mean...?"
"It seemed like a good idea to sidetrack the Groaci away from the genuine
stuff," Retief pointed out. "Just in case any of it had any sentimental
value."
"Fake fakes," Magnan murmured. "The concept has a certain euphony."
They paused beside a pair of double glass doors opening onto an airy
balcony two hundred feet above the freshly scrubbed city. As they stepped
out, a small copter with a saddle and handlebars came winging in across
the park to hover just beyond the balustrade.
"Hop aboard, Retief, we're late," the machine called in a cheerful baritone.
"Retief, where are you going?" Magnan barked as the latter swung over the
rail. "You have the quarterly Report of Redundant Reports to compile, to
say nothing of the redundant reports themselves...!"
"Duty calls, Mr. Magnan," Retief said soothingly. "I'm off to a game of sky
polo with a couple of Cabinet Ministers." He waved and set spurs to his
mount, which launched itself with a bound into the wide green sky. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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