Keith Laumer

“ Magnan chirped. "Now that we've had diplomatic relations and all—"
"Oh, by no means. The fleet lifts in thirty days. After all, we're Qornt; we have to satisfy our drive to action."
"But Mr. Retief is your leader now. He won't let you!"
"Only a dead Qornt stays home when Attack day comes. And even if he orders us all to cut our own throats, there are still the other Centers—all with their own leaders. No, gentlemen, the Invasion is definitely on."
"Why don't you go invade somebody else?" Magnan suggested. "I could name some very attractive prospects—outside my sector, of course." ”

“ Lesser trolls—beaked, bush-haired, great-eyed—trotted briskly, bird-kneed, bearing steaming platters, stood in groups of three strumming slender bottle-shaped lutes, or pranced an intricate-patterned dance, unnoticed in the shrill uproar as each of the magnificently draped, belted, feathered and jeweled Qornt carried on a shouted conversation with an equally noisy fellow. ”

“ Magnan offered. "Now, I'd like to suggest community singing—"
"If we gave up fighting, we might live too long. Then what would happen?"
"Live too long?" Magnan looked puzzled.
"When estivating time comes there'd be no burrows for us. Anyway, with the new Qornt stepping on our heels—"
"I've lost the thread," Magnan said. "Who are the new Qornt?"
"After estivating, the Verpp moult, and then they're Qornt, of course. The Gwil become Boog, the Boog become Rheuk, the Rheuk metamorphosize into Verpp—"
"You mean Slun and Zubb—the mild-natured naturalists—will become warmongers like Qorn?" ”

“ And how many units comprise the fleet? And where they're based at present?"
"They're fully automated twenty-thousand-ton all-purpose dreadnaughts. They mount a variety of weapons. The Qornt are fond of that sort of thing. Each of the Qornt has his own, of course. They're virtually identical, except for the personal touches each individual has given his ship."
"Great heavens, Retief!" Magnan exclaimed in a whisper. "It sounds as though these brutes employ a battle armada as simpler souls might a set of toy sailboats!"
Retief stepped past Magnan and Zubb to study the feasting hall. ”

“ They can be an irascible lot when disturbed at their feasting."
"When will the feast be over?" Magnan called hoarsely.
"In another few weeks, I should imagine, if, as you say, they've scheduled an invasion for next month."
"Look here, Zubb." Magnan shook a finger at the tall alien. "How is it that these Qornt are allowed to embark on piratical ventures of this sort without reference to the wishes of the majority?"
"Oh, the majority of the Qornt favor the move, I imagine."
"These few hotheads are permitted to embroil the planet in war?"
"Oh, they don't embroil the planet in war. ”

“ Qorn said. "That's why I'm Qorn." He belched again.
A servant came up staggering under a weight of chain, dropped it with a crash at Magnan's feet. Zubb aimed the guns while the servant wrapped three loops around Magnan's wrists, snapped a lock in place.
"You next!" The guns pointed at Retief's chest. He held out his arms. Four loops of silvery-gray chain in half-inch links dropped around them. The servant cinched them up tight, squeezed a lock through the ends and closed it.
"Now," Qorn said, lolling back in his chair, glass in hand. "There's a bit of sport to be had here, lads. ”

“ Nitworth leaned forward, looking solemn.
"They were a warlike race known in this sector back in Concordiat times, perhaps two hundred years ago. They vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. There was no record of where they went." He paused for effect.
"They have now reappeared—occupying the inner planet of this system!"
"But, sir," Second Secretary Magnan offered. "That's uninhabited Terrestrial territory...."
"Indeed, Mr. Magnan?" Nitworth smiled icily. "It appears the Qornt do not share that opinion." ”

“ Retief said. "You claim you can lick any man in the house. Unwind yourself from your ribbons and step out here on the floor, and we'll see how good you are at backing up your conversation."
Magnan hovered at Retief's side. "Twelve feet tall," he moaned. "And did you notice the size of those hands?"
Retief watched as Qorn's aides helped him out of his formal trappings. ”

“ Magnan. He may get nervous and shoot." Retief stepped into the banquet hall, headed for the resplendent figure at the head of the table. A trio of flute-players broke off in mid-bleat, staring. An inverted pyramid of tumblers blinked as Retief swung past, followed by Magnan and the tall Verpp. The shrill chatter at the table faded.
Qorn turned as Retief came up, blinking three-inch eyes. Zubb stepped forward, gibbered, waving his arms excitedly. ”

“ Retief said. "A new type hell bomb we've worked out. Have all your people off of it in seventy-two hours, or suffer the consequences."
IV
"You have the gall," Qorn stormed, "to stand here in the center of Qornt Hall—uninvited, at that—and in chains—"
"Oh, these," Retief said. He tensed his arms. The soft aluminum links stretched and broke. He shook the light metal free. "We diplomats like to go along with colorful local customs, but I wouldn't want to mislead you. Now, as to the evacuation of Roolit I—"
Zubb screeched, waved the guns. ”

“ Nitworth said coldly. "A number of chores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little field experience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at these Qornt personally."
Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
"Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?"
"Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose my head and do something rash if I go."
"Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along. No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify the transport pool at once. Now get going!" ”