The Magnificent Wilf by Gordon R. Dickson

Author:Gordon R. Dickson [Dickson, Gordon R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781625796745
Google: oFp0DwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2018-12-03T13:00:00+00:00

Inexperienced Ambassador-At-Large Obligates

Human Race To Untold Future Generations Of

Poverty

Jaktal Debt More Than Earth Can

Pay In Millennia

Wockii Futures Not Worth Paper They’re

Written On

“Recall Tom Parent and kill

him slowly!” chants angry crowd.

At approximately 9:15 PM, Eastern Standard Time yesterday, Tom Parent, ALIEN AFFAIRS appointed Ambassador-at-Large, accepted the Jaktal Empire …

“How could they?” cried Lucy, indignantly. “When it was the investors’ fault, not yours—or mine?”

“I suspect we’re being used as scapegoats by whoever was actually responsible,” said Tom.

“But this is terrible!” said Lucy. “We could go home and find everybody hating us—or maybe they wouldn’t let us come home at all!”

Tom had begun to pace back and forth on the floor.

“Both the sixth and seventh of my para-instincts activated by the Assassin’s briefing are alerted by this whole business of the Wockii futures. My seventh, in particular, is very positive about it. It was all too easy, and now we’re committed. The Sector stock Sharks have spread a rumor that the Wockii have recently shown evidence of being forever incapable of acceptance by the Sector Council. If it weren’t for that, the Wockii Futures could be placed in escrow for repayment of the Jaktal debt—so freezing the Jaktal creditors’ claims against Earth. This would freeze any payment until either the Wockii were proved incapable of acceptance—say, they were predators on another possibly acceptable Race—or some chicanery is somehow involved.”

He stopped pacing and stood eye to eye with Lucy.

“You think there’s been chicanery?” demanded Lucy.

“I have no proof. My ninth para-instinct has no doubt of it. Still, how can I prove it? And if I can’t prove it, as Ambassador-at-Large I’ll have to let things follow their natural course, which at best means condemning our Earth essentially to slavery for several millennia.”

“Then we’ll have to uncover the chicanery. That’s all,” said Lucy, firmly.

“Yes …”

Tom started pacing again, then paused to glance at a screen across the room, which showed a wide expanse of concrete landing pad and a battalion of what looked like six-feet-tall praying mantises, armed and standing strictly at attention. “We’re almost down. There’s the Skikana Honor Guard drawn up to greet us. From now on be careful what you say. Even a mountaintop ten miles away has ears. Only in our ambassadorial quarters or aboard ship here—”

The landing bell of the ship rang suddenly through all the rooms, followed by a distant thrumming that seemed to pierce the hull and vibrate in their bones, in a melodious but unbearable way.

“What’s that?” cried Lucy.

“The Skikana battle harps,” said Tom. “You’ll see them when we go out. They vibrate so powerfully they can be heard right through the hull of the ship. “Come on now. We get off first. It’s protocol. Corporal!”

“Sir!” shouted the Hugwo Corporal, springing to life.

He rapped out orders in Hugwo and the lance-gunners formed up behind Tom and Lucy. Together they all marched out of the suite, down the ship’s main corridor, and headed toward the air-lock.

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