 Of what species is Miss Meuhl and Retief?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1962. I "The Consul for the Terrestrial States," Retief said, "presents his compliments, et cetera, to the Ministry of Culture of the Groacian Autonomy, and with reference to the Ministry's invitation to attend a recital of interpretive grimacing, has the honor to express regret that he will be unable—" "You can't turn this invitation down," Administrative Assistant Meuhl said flatly. "Miss Meuhl," he said, "in the past couple of weeks I've sat through six light-concerts, four attempts at chamber music, and god knows how many assorted folk-art festivals. I've been tied up every off-duty hour since I got here—" "You can't offend the Groaci," Miss Meuhl said sharply. "Whaffle left here three months ago," Retief said, "leaving me in charge." "Well," Miss Meuhl said, snapping off the dictyper. "I don't recall dictating any letters today, Miss Meuhl," Retief said, pulling on a light cape. Retief looked thoughtfully at Miss Meuhl. "You've been here on Groac for four years, Miss Meuhl. "Mr. Retief, those are just the sort of questions we avoid with the Groaci. A Groacian bartender was dispensing clay pots of alcoholic drink from the bar-pit at the center of the room. He looked at Retief and froze in mid-motion, a metal tube poised over a waiting pot. "To not be angry, fragrant native," Retief said. Retief backed into the opening to a narrow crossway and offered further verbal familiarities to the drunken local, who followed, furious. Retief backed, rounded a corner into a narrow alley-like passage, deserted, silent ... except for the following Groacian. Retief stepped around him, seized his collar and yanked. Retief stood over him. Miss Meuhl said, eyeing Retief over her lenses. "There are two gentlemen waiting to see you. Two Groaci wearing heavy eye-shields and elaborate crest ornaments indicative of rank rose as Retief entered the room. Miss Meuhl hovered nervously, then sat on the edge of a comfortless chair. "Have you ever heard," Retief said, looking steadily at Fith, "of a Terrestrial cruiser, the ISV Terrific , which dropped from sight in this sector nine years ago?" Miss Meuhl exclaimed, rising. "I wash my hands—" "Just keep that recorder going," Retief snapped.
 Human
 Groacian  Unknown  Human  Reptile