"Don't even think of it. You came up through the ranks, Channing. A man doesn't go down the same way. He goes out. I don't like this business of giving ultimatums. We're all grown men here, but ... Channing. I want you to see Qui Dor. I want you to reason with him. Not the full treatment, you understand. Qui Dor stays. Deneb would have us spitted over an open fire, otherwise."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
"I'll leave it in your hands, but I want results. Is that clear? Whatever you do, do not offend Qui Dor. But placate the Department of Health and Public Welfare. I'm going down to India on official business, Channing. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes. How the devil can I make both of them happy?"
"Be diplomatic," said State, and took his leave, a worried, red-faced man with an over-sized brief case and round shoulders almost but not quite hidden by an expert job of tailoring.
"Julie," Channing called over the office intercom, "get me an appointment with Qui Dor, Targoffian Embassy, for tomorrow morning or as soon as possible. And is Nick out there listening?"
"Well ... yes."
"Tell him, pretty please, to take his spaceship somewhere and get lost."
"Aw, boss," said Nicholson over the intercom. But he was laughing.
Channing wasn't.