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I am now
prepared, gentlemen," the Crodfoller glance drifted along the eager faces
at the table, "to entertain any constructive proposals which those of you
who, unlike Ambassador Sidesaddle, have kept abreast of events, may care to
offer."
     
                "What
did he say?" Hy Felix asked Colonel Trenchfoot. "I heard him, but I
got lost somewhere."
     
                Colonel
Trenchfoot shush! edthe Press man and cleared his throat.
     
                "As
the general said, sir," he addressed Crodfoller, "it's about time we
got off our duffs and showed these worms who's running the Arm."
     
                "Ahem,
Colonel," the Undersecretary replied, "I can overlook your aggressive
terminology because you're new to the give and take of enlightened
diplomacy."
     
                "Looks
to me like we're doing all the giving, and they're doing all the taking,
Boss," Trenchfoot came back cheekily. Hy Felix snickered.
     
                "Mr.
Magnan," Crodfoller singled out the inoffensive Econ man for attention,
"What have you to contribute at this juncture?"
     
                "Well,
sir, if this is a juncture, I feel we should perhaps do something
positive."
     
                " If this is a juncture, you say, Magnan?" The Undersecretary's frown
resembled a cold front forming over jagged mountain peaks. "Inasmuch as I
characterized it as a juncture, you wish to question my judgment?"
Crodfoller paused ominously and deliberately blacked in a square on his pad,
and noted 'Run a 734 on Magnan.'
     
                "Insubordination
will contribute little to interplanetary peace, Ben," he pointed out
sadly.
     
                "All
I said was—" Magnan began, but was cut off by Crodfoller's booming voice,
his face now wreathed in smiles.
     
                "Enough
of dissention, fellows," he suggested. "Mr. Lackluster, we haven't
yet heard from you."
     
                "Uh,
sir, that is, Mr. Assistant Deputy—I mean Deputy Assistant—er, Mr.
Undersecretary, that is," Marvin faltered, looking desperately to First
Secretary Underthrust for a hint.
     
                "Why
don't we just send 'em a blank surrender form, signed and sealed, and let them
fill in the terms?" the older diplomat suggested in a sardonic whisper to
his pupil.
     
                "Why
don't we—uh, just send 'em a blank surrender form," Marvin parroted,
"and let them fill in the terms .., OK, sir?"
     
                "Oh-kay,
Marvin?" Crodfoller echoed hollowly. "When has a fighting Crodfoller
ever been known to throw in the figurative towel without a show of symbolic
resistance? I'll have no craven proposals, gentlemen! We can achieve the same
results while at the same time saving face, if we put on a spirited
retreat," he amplified.
     
                "I
say, let's form up a cordon and lay for the infernal worms out past Tip
space," General Otherday proposed loudly.
     
                "Warmongering,
Ralph? Open warmongering, at that. I'm surprised at you, General. A bit
more subtlety is to be expected of an officer of your rank, even if you are known
as a hawk type."
     
                "Sir,
I can't sit here and let the Armed Forces be slurred," the general stated,
rising. "Otherday, do you mean to stand there and tell me your service so
far lacks resilience as to be unable to accommodate to the realities of
inter-Arm relations?"
     
                "As
for inter-Arm relations," the general came back doggedly. "The less
there is of em the better."
     
                "Isolationism?"
Crodfoller cried in a tone of Deep Anguish (17-V). "Pardon my use of the
expression, gentlemen—but I was deeply shocked."
     
                "Maybe
we could sort of feint a move to get em to raise their picket lines to about
the galactic ecliptic level," General Otherday improvised, "and sneak
a