"I seem to recall that our first contact of skirmishforms involved the use of a weapon by one of your units."
"My apologies," said Retief. "The—ah—the skirmishform failed to recognize that he was dealing with a sportsman."
"Still, now that we have commenced so merrily with weapons...." Hoshick signaled and the servant refilled tubes.
"There is an aspect I haven't yet mentioned," Retief went on. "I hope you won't take this personally, but the fact is, our skirmishforms think of weapons as something one employs only in dealing with certain specific life-forms."
"Oh? Curious. What forms are those?"
"Vermin. Or 'varmints' as some call them. Deadly antagonists, but lacking in caste. I don't want our skirmishforms thinking of such worthy adversaries as yourself as varmints."
"Dear me! I hadn't realized, of course. Most considerate of you to point it out." Hoshick clucked in dismay. "I see that skirmishforms are much the same among you as with us: lacking in perception." He laughed scratchily. "Imagine considering us as—what was the word?—varmints."
"Which brings us to the crux of the matter. You see, we're up against a serious problem with regard to skirmishforms. A low birth rate. Therefore we've reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actions so dear to the heart of the sportsman. We've attempted to put an end to these contests altogether...."
Hoshick coughed explosively, sending a spray of wine into the air. "What are you saying?" he gasped. "Are you proposing that Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns abandon honor....?"
"Sir!" said Retief sternly. "You forget yourself. I, Retief of the Red Tape Mountain, make an alternate proposal more in keeping with the newest sporting principles."