Retief Unbound by Keith Laumer Read Free Book Online

channels."
    "I see they're sending two
thousand students to d'Land," Retief said, glancing at the Memo for
Record. "That's a sizable sublimation.''
    Magnan nodded. "The Bogans
have launched no less than four military campaigns in the last two decades.
They're known as the Hoodlums of the Nicodeman Cluster. Now, perhaps, we shall
see them breaking that precedent and entering into the cultural life of the
Galaxy."
    "Breaking and entering,"
Retief said. "You may have something there. But I'm wondering what they'll
study on d'Land. That's an industrial world of the poor-but-honest
variety."
    "Academic details are the
affair of the students and their professors," Magnan said. "Our
function is merely to bring them together. See that you don't antagonize the
Bogan representative. This will be an excellent opportunity for you to practice
your diplomatic restraint—not your strong point, I'm sure you'll agree—"
    A buzzer sounded. Retief punched a
button. "What is it, Miss Furkle?"
    "That—bucolic person from
Lovenbroy is here again." On the small desk screen, Miss Furkle's meaty
features were compressed in disapproval.
    "This fellow's a confounded
pest; I'll leave him to you, Retief," Magnan said. "Tell him
something; get rid of him. And remember: here at Corps HQ, all eyes are upon
you."
    "If I'd thought of that, I'd
have worn my other suit," Retief said.
    Magnan snorted and passed from
view. Retief punched Miss Furkle's button.
    "Send the bucolic person
in."
    A tall broad man with bronze skin
and grey hair, wearing tight trousers of heavy cloth, a loose shirt open at the
neck, and a short jacket, stepped into the room, a bundle under his arm. He
paused at sight of Retief, looked him over momentarily, then advanced and held
out his hand. Retief took it. For a moment the two big men stood, face to face.
The newcomer's jaw muscles knotted. Then he winced. Retief dropped his hand,
motioned to a chair.
    "That's nice knuckle work,
mister," the stranger said, massaging his hand. "First time anybody
ever did that to me. My fault, though, I started it, I guess." He grinned
and sat down.
    "What can I do for you?"
the Second Secretary said. "My name's Retief. I'm taking Mr. Magnan's
place for a couple of weeks."
    "You work for this culture
bunch, do you? Funny, I thought they were all ribbon-counter boys. Never mind.
I'm Hank Arapoulous. I'm a farmer. What I wanted to see you about was—" He
shifted in his chair. "Well, out on Lovenbroy we've got a serious problem.
The wine crop is just about ready. We start picking in another two, three
months. Now I don't know if you're familiar with the Bacchus vines we
grow?"
    "No," Retief said.
"Have a cigar?" He pushed a box across the desk. Arapoulous took one.
"Bacchus vines are an unusual crop," he said, puffing life into the
cigar. "Only mature every twelve years. In between, the vines don't need a
lot of attention; our time's mostly our own. We like to farm, though. Spend a
lot of time developing new forms. Apples the size of a melon—and sweet."
    "Sounds very pleasant,"
Retief said. "Where does the Libraries and Education Division come
in?"
    Arapoulous leaned forward. "We
go in pretty heavy for the arts. Folks can't spend all their time hybridizing
plants. We've turned all the land area we've got into parks and farms; course,
we left some sizable forest areas for hunting and such. Lovenbroy's a nice
place, Mr. Retief."
    "It sounds like it, Mr.
Arapoulous. Just what—"
    "Call me Hank. We've got long
seasons back home. Five of 'em. Our year's about eighteen Terry months. Cold as
hell in winter—eccentric orbit, you know. Blue-black sky, stars visible all
day. We do mostly painting and sculpture in the winter. Then Spring—still
plenty cold. Lots of skiing, bob- sledding, ice skating—and it's the season for
woodworkers. Our furniture—"
    "I've seen some of your
furniture, I believe," said Retief. "Beautiful work."
    Arapoulous nodded. "All local
timbers, too. Lots of metals in our soil;