The Return of Retief by Keith Laumer Read Free Book Online Page A

his
return in a reasonable time. Nothing truculent, of course. A 'We beings of the
world quite understand this Retief got himself in this fix on his own, he'll
have to get out the same way."
     
                "Precisely
my point, Hy," Crodfoller said quickly. "And don't you worry about
the old retirement."
     
                "Marvin,"
Underthrust whispered urgently to the neophyte, "did you see how quickly
his Ex checked over his possible response spectrum, and selected a winner?
Hardly paused. Magnificent!"
     
                "Yessir,"
Lackluster confirmed enthusiastically, "I noticed his face writhing a
little, when he tried on a 602 Indignation, then a 431 Reluctant Satisfaction
with a Subordinate's Performance."
     
                "Still,"
Magnan persisted, with a slight quaver, "I think perhaps we have a sort of
obligation, almost, in a sense, to attempt—to state an intention to try to
attempt, that is—some kind of affirmative action to show these worms they can't
just invade Terry-mandated space and capture harmless Terry bureaucrats."
He sat down abruptly.
     
                "I
hope I didn't express myself too vigorously, Your Excellency," he added.
"Perhaps I got a little carried away."
     
                "By
no means, Ben," Crodfoller said kindly. "Actually, I admire your
spirited efforts in support of a colleague—a junior, at that— no matter how he
himself may have contributed to the present contretemps."
     
                "He contributed to it, sir?" Magnan echoed. "How? All he did was go
where he was assigned."
     
                "Indeed,
Ben? Are you quite sure he voiced no resentment when he found himself
overwhelmed by an unauthorized invasion of aliens?"
     
                "Why,
no, sir," Magnan quavered. "As to that, why, I suppose perhaps he
might well have expressed some objection."
     
                "So
you see?" Crodfoller beamed along the board. "No need overly to
excite ourselves, gentlemen, though I shall look into the matter one day
soon, when other, more substantive matters have been dealt with. For example,
just how we can best indicate to the Ree, without giving offense, that our
plans for development of the region do not include the settlement of hordes of
displaced persons from the Western Arm?"
     
                "I
still say let's show 'em a little muscle," Colonel Trenchfoot muttered
doggedly. "Not an actual attack, if that's too rich for your blood, but
just show the flag, like, with a goodwill tour of Tip space by the Second
Fleet, maybe."
     
                "Threats
of force, Trenchfoot, I repeat," Crodfoller intoned stonily, "are
hardly the finest expression of enlightened diplomacy."
     
                "To
heck with 'threats of force'." Hy grumped. "How's about going
directly to force, and no threats to tip 'em off."
     
                "These
reactionary comments, Mr. Felix," the Undersecretary stated formally,
"reflect little credit on the Information Agency you represent in these
councils."
     
                "I'm
speaking for myself," Hy said bluntly. "The Agency's just as chicken
as the Corps— maybe more so."
     
                "In
that case, Hy, give me a break," Crodfoller demanded. "Don't file a
story on the negotiation until after the apparent conflict of interest has been
resolved. Why, I imagine that when tempers have cooled, and counsels of
restraint have prevailed, you'll be very glad indeed that you didn't go on
record with any premature pronouncements possibly critical of Corps
policy."
     
                "File
what?" Hy demanded. "A first-grade spelling bee'd make hotter copy
than this get-together."
     
                The
subdued hubbub which followed Felix's gaffe had hardly died down when
again the deliberations of the august body were interrupted by a rap at the
door. Grumpily, Crodfoller turned to