Lone Star Planet | Page 3

think Machiavelli, Junior would
do about the z'Srauff?"
"We have a Department of Aggression," I replied. "Its mottoes are,
'Stop trouble before it starts,' and, 'If we have to fight, let's do it on the
other fellow's real estate.' But this situation is just a little too delicate
for literal application of those principles. An unprovoked attack on the
z'Srauff would set every other non-human race in the galaxy against
us.... Would an attack by the z'Srauff on New Texas constitute just
provocation?"
"It might. New Texas is an independent planet. Its people are
descendants of emigrants from Terra who wanted to get away from the
rule of the Solar League. We've been trying for half a century to

persuade the New Texan government to join the League. We need their
planet, for both strategic and commercial reasons. With the z'Srauff for
neighbors, they need us as much at least as we need them. The problem
is to make them understand that."
I nodded again. "And an attack by the z'Srauff would do that, too, sir," I
said.
Natalenko tittered again. "You see, gentlemen! Our Mr. Silk picks
things up very handily, doesn't he?" He turned to Secretary of State
Ghopal. "You take it from there," he invited.
Ghopal Singh smiled benignly. "Well, that's it, Stephen," he said. "We
need a man on New Texas who can get things done. Three things, to be
exact.
"First, find out why poor Mr. Cumshaw was murdered, and what can be
done about it to maintain our prestige without alienating the New
Texans.
"Second, bring the government and people of New Texas to a
realization that they need the Solar League as much as we need them.
"And, third, forestall or expose the plans for the z'Srauff invasion of
New Texas."
Is that all, now? I thought. He doesn't want a diplomat; he wants a
magician.
"And what," I asked, "will my official position be on New Texas, sir?
Or will I have one, of any sort?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Mr. Silk. Your official position will be that of
Ambassador Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary. That, I believe,
is the only vacancy which exists in the Diplomatic Service on that
planet."
At Dumbarton Oaks Diplomatic Academy, they haze the freshmen by

making them sit on a one-legged stool and balance a teacup and saucer
on one knee while the upper classmen pelt them with ping-pong balls.
Whoever invented that and the other similar forms of hazing was one of
the great geniuses of the Service. So I sipped my coffee, set down the
cup, took a puff from my cigarette, then said:
"I am indeed deeply honored, Mr. Secretary. I trust I needn't go into
any assurances that I will do everything possible to justify your trust in
me."
"I believe he will, Mr. Secretary," Natalenko piped, in a manner that
chilled my blood.
"Yes, I believe so," Ghopal Singh said. "Now, Mr. Ambassador, there's
a liner in orbit two thousand miles off Luna, which has been held from
blasting off for the last eight hours, waiting for you. Don't bother
packing more than a few things; you can get everything you'll need
aboard, or at New Austin, the planetary capital. We have a man whom
Coördinator Natalenko has secured for us, a native New Texan, Hoddy
Ringo by name. He'll act as your personal secretary. He's aboard the
ship now. You'll have to hurry, I'm afraid.... Well, bon voyage, Mr.
Ambassador."
CHAPTER II
The death-watch outside had grown to about fifteen or twenty. They
were all waiting in happy anticipation as I came out of the Secretary's
office.
"What did he do to you, Silk?" Courtlant Staynes asked, amusedly.
"Demoted me. Kicked me off the Hooligan Diplomats," I said glumly.
"Demoted you from the Consular Service?" Staynes asked scornfully.
"Impossible!"
"Yes. He demoted me to the Cookie Pushers. Clear down to
Ambassador."

They got a terrific laugh. I went out, wondering what sort of noises
they'd make, the next morning, when the appointments sheet was
posted.
I gathered a few things together, mostly small personal items, and all
the microfilms that I could find on New Texas, then got aboard the
Space Navy cutter that was waiting to take me to the ship. It was a
four-hour trip and I put in the time going over my hastily-assembled
microfilm library and using a stenophone to dictate a reading list for the
spacetrip.
As I rolled up the stenophone-tape, I wondered what sort of secretary
they had given me; and, in passing, why Natalenko's department had
furnished him.
Hoddy Ringo....
Queer name, but in a galactic civilization, you find all sorts of names
and all sorts of people bearing them, so I was prepared for anything.
And I found it.
I found him standing with the ship's