The Return of Retief by Keith Laumer Read Free Book Online

commented to Magnan behind his hand,
"this one is getting off to an even worse start than usual. Half an hour
we've been at it already, at combined salaries of maybe fifty thou per hour,
and all we've done so far is find out that Space Arm wants more money."
     
                All
hands swiveled in shock at the sound of a diffident rapping at the door.
Chairman Undersecretary Crodfoller, his wattles a dangerous purplish shade,
assumed an expression of Astonishment at a Gaffe of Unprecedented Proportions
(1231-p) and grated, "See what they want, George."
     
                The
janitor dutifully went to the door, opened it and was thrust aside by a young
fellow in the blues of a Naval rating, holding a strip of gram paper before him
as if it were about to burst into flames.
     
                "Par
me, fellows," he blurted, "I got some hot poop here the Chief said
you wanna see." He looked inquiringly at Crodfoller at the head of the
table, then summarized:
     
                "Seems
like one of your boys is in deep stuff, Mr. Assis—uh, Deputy ..."
     
                "
'Mr. Undersecretary' will do, my boy," Crodfoller offered kindly.
     
                "Sure,
Mr. Undersecretary, sir," the yeoman agreed, nodding vigorously.
"Anyways, we got word here the worms have now took over Region Thirteen.
Not a whole lot out there, but according to the records, you got some kinda
dog-catcher out on Icebox Nine, which it's in that area, taking a icicle census
or like that." The lad guffawed comfortably to indicate that he was
essaying a jest.
     
                "To
be sure," Crodfoller conceded, nodding in agreement with himself.
"Dismissed, my boy."
     
                The
yeoman saluted and left.
     
                Crodfoller
addressed Magnan, "I seem to recall something of the matter, a sort of
semi-disciplinary thing, wasn't it Ben? Some sort of insubordination charge. I
recall you testified in the fellow's favor at the hearings."
     
                Magnan
nodded. "Yes sir: not exactly in his favor, sir; just the truth. There were extenuating circumstances. Although he did leave a Career Ambassador
to languish in a Crawlie dungeon for a week or two, he was the one who
rescued him, otherwise he'd still be in stir or worse."
     
                "Doubtless,"
the chairman said doubtfully. "In any case, Ben, it's not wise to allow
oneself to be drawn into such matters; tendency to acquire guilt by
association, you know."
     
                "Oh,
but I was associated with him—Retief was his name, Mr.
Undersecretary," Magnan pointed out. "Through no fault of my own, we
served together at Furtheron and a number of other stations—you remember, he
was a third secretary in your mission to Petreac—and actually, I sort of miss
him. How long was he supposed to be on detached duty?"
     
                "Oh,
a normal hardship post tour, I suppose, perhaps thirteen months standard,"
Crodfoller replied. "But as I seem to recall, the fellow was something of
a chronic trouble-maker, so it's just as well he's out of the way for a
time."
     
                "Oh,
I was just thinking, Mr. Undersecretary," Magnan said almost wistfully.
"Retief used to have a kind of knack for cutting through the formalities
and getting down to cases. Unorthodox, of course, but with blank surrender
forms under discussion, perhaps we need his unique approach."
     
                "Perish
the thought, Ben," the Chairman grunted. "An idea like that is enough
to make blank surrender forms seem almost reasonable."
     
                "I
suppose so," Magnan agreed, wagging his narrow head in resignation.
"Still, we can't very well let one of our own perish miserably at the
hands of the aggressors, while we do nothing ... I hope."
     
                "Certainly
not, Magnan. In fact, you yourself may draft a stiff Note, requesting