Retief at Large (4 page)

            Miss
Furkle buzzed. "I have your lists," she said shortly.

            "Bring
them in, please."

            The
secretary placed the papers on the desk. Arapoulous caught her eye and grinned.
She sniffed and marched from the room.

            "What
that gal needs is a slippery time in the grape mash," Arapoulous observed.
Retief thumbed through the papers, pausing to read from time to time. He
finished and looked at Arapoulous.

            "How
many men do you need for the harvest, Hank?" Retief inquired.

            Arapoulous
sniffed his wine glass and looked thoughtful.

            "A
hundred would help," he said. "A thousand would be better.
Cheers."

            "What
would you say to two thousand?"

            "Two
thousand? Retief, you're not fooling?"

            "I
hope not." He picked up the phone, called the Port Authority, asked for
the dispatch clerk.

            "Hello,
Jim. Say, I have a favor to ask of you. You know that contingent of Bogan
students. They're traveling aboard the two CDT transports. I'm interested in
the baggage that goes with the students. Has it arrived yet? Okay, I'll
wait."

            Jim
came back to the phone. "Yeah, Retief, it's here. Just arrived. But
there's a funny thing. It's not consigned to d'Land. It's ticketed clear
through to Lovenbroy."

            "Listen,
Jim," Retief said. "I want you to go over to the warehouse and take a
look at that baggage for me."

            Retief
waited while the dispatch clerk carried out the errand. The level in the two
bottles had gone down an inch when Jim returned to the phone.

            "Hey,
I took a look at that luggage, Retief. Something funny going on. Guns. 2mm
needlers, Mark XII hand blasters, power pistols—"

            "It's
okay, Jim. Nothing to worry about. Just a mix-up. Now, Jim, I'm going to ask
you to do something more for me. I'm covering for a friend. It seems he slipped
up. I wouldn't want word to get out, you understand. I'll send along a written
change order in the morning that will cover you officially. Meanwhile, here's what
I want you to do ..."

            Retief
gave instructions, then rang off and turned to Arapoulous.

            "As
soon as I get off a couple of TWX's, I think we'd better get down to the port,
Hank. I think I'd like to see the students off personally."

            Karsh
met Retief as he entered the Departures enclosure at the port.

            "What's
going on here?" he demanded. "There's some funny business with my
baggage consignment. They won't let me see it! I've got a feeling it's not
being loaded."

            "You'd
better hurry, Mr. Karsh," Retief said. "You're scheduled to blast off
in less than an hour. Are the students all loaded?"

            "Yes,
blast you! What about my baggage? Those vessels aren't moving without it!"

            "No
need to get so upset about a few toothbrushes, is there, Mr. Karsh?"
Retief said blandly. "Still, if you're worried—" He turned to
Arapoulous.

            "Hank,
why don't you walk Mr. Karsh over to the warehouse and ... ah ... take care of
him?"

            "I
know just how to handle it," Arapoulous said.

            The
dispatch clerk came up to Retief. "I caught the tractor equipment,"
he said. "Funny kind of mistake, but it's okay now. They're being
off-loaded at d'Land. I talked to the traffic controller there. He said they
weren't looking for any students."

            "The
labels got switched, Jim. The students go where the baggage was consigned. Too
bad about the mistake, but the Armaments Office will have a man along in a
little while to dispose of the guns. Keep an eye out for the luggage. No
telling where it's gotten to."

            "Here!"
a hoarse voice yelled. Retief turned. A disheveled figure in a tight hat was
crossing the enclosure, arms waving.

            "Hi
there, Mr. Gulver," Retief called. "How's Boge's business coming
along?"

            "Piracy!"
Gulver blurted as he came up to Retief, puffing hard. "You've got a hand
in this, I don't doubt! Where's that Magnan fellow?"

            "What
seems to be the problem?" Retief said.

            "Hold
those transports! I've just been notified that the baggage shipment has been
impounded. I'll remind you, that shipment enjoys diplomatic free entry!"

            "Who
told you it was impounded?"

            "Never
mind! I have my sources!"

            Two
tall men buttoned into gray tunics came up. "Are you Mr. Retief of
CDT?" one said.

            "That's
right."

            "What
about my baggage!" Gulver cut in. "And I'm warning you, if those ships
lift without—"

            "These
gentlemen are from the Armaments Control Commission," Retief said.
"Would you like to come along and claim your baggage, Mr. Gulver?"

            "From
where? I—" Gulver turned two shades redder about the ears.
"Armaments?"

            "The
only shipment I've held up seems to be somebody's arsenal," Retief said.
"Now if you claim this is your baggage ..."

            "Why,
impossible," Gulver said in a strained voice. "Armaments? Ridiculous.
There's been an error .    ."

            At
the baggage warehouse Gulver looked glumly at the opened cases of guns.
"No, of course not," he said, dully. "Not my baggage. Not my
baggage at all."

            Arapoulous
appeared, supporting the stumbling figure of Mr. Karsh.

            "What—what's
this?" Gulver spluttered. "Karsh? What's happened?"

            "He
had a little fall. He'll be okay," Arapoulous said.

            "You'd
better help him to the ship," Retief said. "It's ready to lift. We
wouldn't want him to miss it."

            "Leave
him to me!" Gulver snapped, his eyes slashing at Karsh. "I'll see
he's dealt with."

            "I
couldn't think of it," Retief said. "He's a guest of the Corps, you
know. We'll see him safely aboard."

            Gulver
turned, signaled frantically. Three heavy-set men in identical drab suits
detached themselves from the wall, crossed to the group.

            "Take
this man," Gulver snapped, indicating Karsh, who looked at him dazedly,
reached up to rub his head.

            "We
take our hospitality seriously," Retief said. "We'll see him aboard
the vessel." Gulver opened his mouth.

            "I
know you feel bad about finding guns instead of school books in your
luggage," Retief said, looking Gulver in the eye. "You'll be busy
straightening out the details of the mix-up. You'll want to avoid further
complications."

            "Ah.
Ulp. Yes," Gulver said. He appeared unhappy.

            Arapoulous
went on to the passenger conveyor, turned to wave.

            "Your
man—he's going too?" Gulver blurted.

            "He's
not our man, properly speaking," Retief said. "He lives on
Lovenbroy."

            "Lovenbroy?"
Gulver choked. "But ... the ... I ..."

            "I
know you said the students were bound for d'Land," Retief said. "But
I guess that was just another aspect of the general confusion. The course
plugged into the navigators was to Lovenbroy. You'll be glad to know they're
still headed there—even without the baggage."

            "Perhaps,"
Gulver said grimly, "perhaps they'll manage without it."

            "By
the way," Retief said. "There was another funny mix-up. There were
some tractors—for industrial use, you'll recall. I believe you cooperated with
Croanie in arranging the grant through MEDDLE. They were erroneously consigned
to Lovenbroy, a purely agricultural world. I saved you some embarrassment, I
trust, Mr. Gulver, by arranging to have them offloaded at d'Land."

            "D'Land!
You've put the CSU's in the hands of Boge's bitterest enemies!"

            "But
they're only tractors, Mr. Gulver. Peaceful devices. Isn't that correct?"

            "That's
... correct." Gulver sagged. Then he snapped erect. "Hold the
ships!" he yelled. "I'm canceling the student exchange—"

            His
voice was drowned by the rumble as the first of the monster transports rose
from the launch pit, followed a moment later by the second. Retief watched them
out of sight, then turned to Gulver.

            "They're
off," he said. "Let's hope they get a liberal education."

            Retief
lay on his back in deep grass by a stream, eating grapes. A tall figure
appeared on the knoll above him and waved.

            "Retief!"
Hank Arapoulous bounded down the slope and embraced Retief, slapping him on the
back. "I heard you were here—and I've got news for you. You won the final
day's picking competition. Over two hundred bushels! That's a record!"

            "Let's
get on over to the garden. Sounds like the celebration's about to start."

            In
the flower-crowded park among the stripped vines, Retief and Arapoulous made
their way to a laden table under the lanterns. A tall girl dressed in loose
white, and with long golden hair, came up to Arapoulous.

            "Delinda,
this is Retief—today's winner. And he's also the fellow that got those workers
for us."

            Delinda
smiled at Retief. "I've heard about you, Mr. Retief. We weren't sure about
the boys at first. Two thousand Bogans, and all confused about their baggage
that went astray. But they seemed to like the picking." She smiled again.

            "That's
not all. Our gals liked the boys," Hank said. "Even Bogans aren't so
bad, minus their irons. A lot of 'em will be staying on. But how come you
didn't tell me you were coming, Retief? I'd have laid on some kind of big
welcome."

            "I
liked the welcome I got. And I didn't have much notice. Mr. Magnan was a little
upset when he got back. It seems I exceeded my authority."

            Arapoulous
laughed. "I had a feeling you were wheeling pretty free, Retief. I hope
you didn't get into any trouble over it."

            "No
trouble," Retief said. "A few people were a little unhappy with me.
It seems I'm not ready for important assignments at Departmental level. I was
shipped off here to the boondocks to get a little more experience."

            "Delinda,
look after Retief," said Arapoulous. "I'll see you later. I've got to
see to the wine judging." He disappeared in the crowd.

            "Congratulations
on winning the day," said Delinda. "I noticed you at work. You were
wonderful. I'm glad you're going to have the prize."

            "Thanks.
I noticed you too, flitting around in that white nightie of yours. But why weren't
you picking grapes with the rest of us?"