"Sit down, Magnan!" Sternwheeler snapped. "Of course the Corps always recognizes de facto sovereignty. The problem is merely one of acquainting ourselves with the policies of this new group—a sort of blue-collar coalition, it seems. In what position that leaves this Embassy I don't yet know."
"I suppose this means we'll spend the next month in a parking orbit," Counsellor Magnan sighed.
"Unfortunately," Sternwheeler went on, "the entire affair has apparently been carried off without recourse to violence, leaving the Corps no excuse to move in—that is, it appears our assistance in restoring order will not be required."
"Glave was one of the old Contract Worlds," Retief said. "What's become of the Planetary Manager General and the technical staff? And how do the peasants and workers plan to operate the atmospheric purification system, the Weather Control station, the tide regulation complexes?"
"I'm more concerned at present with the status of the Mission! Will we be welcomed by these peasants or peppered with buckshot?"
"You say that this is a popular junta, and that the former leaders have fled into exile," Retief said. "May I ask the source?"
"The despatch cites a 'reliable Glavian source'."
"That's officialese for something cribbed from a broadcast news tape. Presumably the Glavian news services are in the hands of the revolution. In that case—"
"Yes, yes, there is the possibility that the issue is yet in doubt. Of course we'll have to exercise caution in making our approach. It wouldn't do to make overtures to the wrong side."
"Oh, I think we need have no fear on that score," the Chief of the Political Section spoke up. "I know these entrenched cliques. Once challenged by an aroused populace, they scuttle for safety—with large balances safely tucked away in neutral banks."