"Why the masquerade?"
"Something to do with internal policies, I suppose."
"So we sit tight and watch 'em take our world away from us. That's what I get for playing along with you, Retief. We should have clobbered these monkeys as soon as they set foot on our world."
"Slow down, I haven't finished yet. There's still the Note."
"I've got plenty of paper already. Rolls and rolls of it."
"Give diplomatic processes a chance," said Retief. "The Note hasn't even been delivered yet. Who knows? We may get surprising results."
"If you expect me to supply a runner for the purpose, you're out of luck. From what I hear, he's likely to come back with his ears stuffed in his hip pocket."
"I'll deliver the Note personally," Retief said. "I could use a couple of escorts—preferably strong-arm lads."
The Chef d'Regime frowned, blew out a cloud of smoke. "I wasn't kidding about these Aga Kagans," he said. "I hear they have some nasty habits. I don't want to see you operated on with the same knives they use to skin out the goats."
"I'd be against that myself. Still, the mail must go through."