Retief at Large Read Free

day, gentlemen." He strode off,
briefcase under his arm.
     
                "That's
the trouble with peaceful worlds," the SCROUNGE committeeman said.
"Boge is a troublemaker, so every agency in the Corps is out to pacify
her. While my chance to make a record—that is, assist peace-loving d'Land—comes
to naught." He shook his head.
     
                "What
kind of university do they have on d'Land?" asked Retief. "We're
sending them two thousand exchange students. It must be quite an
institution."
     
                "University?
D'Land has one under-endowed technical college."
     
                "Will
all the exchange students be studying at the Technical College?"
     
                "Two
thousand students? Hah! Two hundred students would overtax the
facilities of the college."
     
                "I
wonder if the Bogans know that?"
     
                "The
Bogans? Why, most of d'Land's difficulties are due to the unwise trade
agreement she entered into with Boge. Two thousand students indeed!" He
snorted and walked away.
     
                Retief
stopped by the office to pick up a short cape, then rode the elevator to the
roof of the 230-story Corps HQ building and hailed a cab to the port. The Bogan
students had arrived early. Retief saw them lined up on the ramp waiting to go
through customs. It would be half an hour before they were cleared through. He
turned into the bar and ordered a beer.
     
                A
tall young fellow on the next stool raised his glass.
     
                "Happy
days," he said.
     
                "And
nights to match."
     
                "You
said it." He gulped half his beer. "My name's Karsh. Mr. Karsh. Yep,
Mr. Karsh. Boy, this is a drag, sitting around this place waiting ..."
     
                "You
meeting somebody?"
     
                "Yeah.
Bunch of babies. Kids. How they expect—Never mind. Have one on me."
     
                "Thanks.
You a Scoutmaster?"
     
                "I'll
tell you what I am. I'm a cradle-robber. You know—" he turned to Retief—
"not one of those kids is over eighteen." He hiccupped.
"Students, you know. Never saw a student with a beard, did you?"
     
                "Lots
of times. You're meeting the students, are you?"
     
                The
young fellow blinked at Retief. "Oh, you know about it, huh?"
     
                "I
represent MUDDLE."
     
                Karsh
finished his beer, ordered another. "I came on ahead. Sort of an advance
guard for the kids. I trained 'em myself. Treated it like a game, but they can
handle a CSU. Don't know how they'll act under pressure. If I had my old
platoon—"
     
                He
looked at his beer glass, pushed it back. "Had enough," he said.
"So long, friend. Or are you coming along?"
     
                Retief
nodded. "Might as well."
     
                At
the exit to the Customs enclosure, Retief watched as the first of the Bogan
students came through, caught sight of Karsh and snapped to attention, his
chest out.
     
                "Drop
that, mister," Karsh snapped. "Is that any way for a student to
act?"
     
                The
youth, a round-faced lad with broad shoulders, grinned.
     
                "Heck,
no," he said. "Say, uh, Mr. Karsh, are we gonna get to go to town? We
fellas were thinking—"
     
                "You
were, hah? You act like a bunch of school kids! I mean ... no! Now line
up!"
     
                "We
have quarters ready for the students," Retief said. "If you'd like to
bring them around to the west side. I have a couple of copters laid on."
     
                "Thanks,"
said Karsh. "They'll stay here until take-off time. Can't have the little
dears wandering around loose. Might get ideas about going over the hill."
He hiccupped. "I