"Glorious Fun Eternally," Retief suggested. "Or possibly Goodies For Everybody."
"I believe that's 'Glavian Free Electorate'," the Third Secretary said.
Sternwheeler stared at the paper, lips pursed. His face grew pink. He slammed the paper on the table.
"Well, gentlemen! It appears our worst fears have been realized! This is nothing less than a warning! A threat! We're advised to divert course and bypass Glave entirely. It seems the GFE wants no interference from meddling foreign exploiters, as they put it!"
Magnan rose. "If you'll excuse me Mr. Ambassador, I want to get off a message to Sector HQ to hold my old job for me—"
"Sit down, you idiot!" Sternwheeler roared. "If you think I'm consenting to have my career blighted—my first Ambassadorial post whisked out from under me—the Corps made a fool of—"
"I'd like to take a look at that message," Retief said. It was passed along to him. He read it.
"I don't believe this applies to us, Mr. Ambassador."
"What are you talking about? It's addressed to me by name!"