t was a compromise affair. Nobody was satisfied. It
dragged along in a spirit of suffering resignation--the Niobians quietly
enduring the tasteless quality of the food, while the Confederation
representatives, wearing unobtrusive nose plugs, suffered politely
through the watered-down aroma and taste of the Niobian delicacies. All
things being considered, it was moving along more smoothly than it had
any right to, and if some moron on the kitchen staff hadn't used tobasco
sauce instead of catsup, we'd probably have signed the Agreement and
gone on happily ever after.

"But it didn't work out that way.

"Of course it wasn't entirely the kitchen's fault. There had to be some
damn fool at the banquet who'd place the bomb where it would do some
good. And of course I had to be it." Lanceford grinned. "About the only
thing I have to say in my defense is that I didn't know it was loaded!"

Perkins looked at him expectantly as Lanceford paused. "Well, don't stop
there," he said. "You've got me interested."

Lanceford smiled good-naturedly and went on.

* * * * *

We held the banquet in the central plaza of Base Alpha. It was the only
roofed area on the planet large enough to hold the crowd of high brass
that had assembled for the occasion. We don't do things that way now,
but fifty years ago we had a lot to learn. In those days, the admission
of a humanoid planet into the Confederation was quite an event. The
VIP's thought that the native population should be aware of it.

I was sitting between Kron Avar and one of the high brass from the
Bureau of Interstellar Trade, a fellow named Hartmann. I had no business
being in that rarefied air, since Kron was one of the two First
Councilors and Hartmann ranked me by a couple of thousand files on the
promotion list. But I happened to be a friend of Kron's, so protocol got
stretched a bit in the name of friendship. He and I had been through a
lot together when I was a junior explorer with the BEE some ten years
before. We'd kept contact with each other ever since. We had both come
up the ladder quite a ways, but a Planetary Director, by rights,
belonged farther down the table. So there I was, the recipient of one of
the places of honor and a lot of dirty looks.

Hartmann didn't think much of being bumped one seat away from the top.
He wasn't used to associating with mere directors, and besides, I kept
him from talking with Kron about trade relations