THE GOVERNOR OF GLAVE
BY KEITH LAUMER
The revolution was over and peace
restored—naturally Retief expected the worst!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, November 1963.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I
Retief turned back the gold-encrusted scarlet cuff of the mess jacketof a First Secretary and Consul, gathered in the three eight-sidedblack dice, shook them by his right ear and sent them rattling acrossthe floor to rebound from the bulk-head.
"Thirteen's the point," the Power Section Chief called. "Ten he makesit!"
"Oh ... Mr. Retief," a strained voice called. Retief looked up. A tallthin youth in the black-trimmed gray of a Third Secretary flapped asheet of paper from the edge of the circle surrounding the game. "TheAmbassador's compliments, sir, and will you join him and the staff inthe conference room at once?"
Retief rose and dusted his knees. "That's all for now, boys," he said."I'll take the rest of your money later." He followed the juniordiplomat from the ward room, along the bare corridors of the crewlevel, past the glare panel reading NOTICE—FIRST CLASS ONLY BEYONDTHIS POINT, through the chandeliered and draped ballroom and along astretch of soundless carpet to a heavy door bearing a placard with thelegend CONFERENCE IN SESSION.
"Ambassador Sternwheeler seemed quite upset, Mr. Retief," the messengersaid.
"He usually is, Pete." Retief took a cigar from his breast pocket. "Gota light?"
The Third Secretary produced a permatch. "I don't know why you smokethose things instead of dope sticks, Mr. Retief," he said. "TheAmbassador hates the smell."
Retief nodded. "I only smoke this kind at conferences. It makes forshorter sessions." He stepped into the room. Ambassador Sternwheelereyed him down the length of the conference table.
"Ah, Mr. Retief honors us with his presence. Do be seated, Retief." Hefingered a yellow Departmental despatch. Retief took a chair, puffingout a dense cloud of smoke.
"As I have been explaining to the remainder of my staff for the pastquarter-hour," Sternwheeler rumbled, "I've been the recipient ofimportant intelligence." He blinked at Retief expectantly. Retiefraised his eyebrows in polite inquiry.
"It seems," Sternwheeler went on, "that there has been a change inregime on Glave. A week ago, the government which invited the dispatchof this mission—and to which we're accredited—was overthrown.The former ruling class has fled into exile. A popular workers' andpeasants' junta has taken over."
"Mr. Ambassador," Counsellor Magnan broke in, rising. "I'd like to bethe first—" he glanced around the table—"or one of the first, anyway,to welcome the new government of Glave into the family of planetaryruling bodies—"
"Sit down, Magnan!" Sternwheeler snapped. "Of course the Corps alwaysrecognizes de facto sovereignty. The problem is merely one ofacquainting ourselves with the policies of this new group—a sort ofblue-collar coalition, it seems. In what position that leaves thisEmbassy I don't yet know."
"I suppose this means we'll spend the next month in a parking orbit,"Counsellor Magnan sighed.
"Unfortunately," Sternwheeler went on, "the entire affair hasapparently been carried off without recourse to violence, leaving theCorps no excuse to move in—that is, it appears our assistance inrestoring order will not be required."