“You! Get Trundy and Little Moe up here—pronto!” He swiveled back to Retief. “You’re in luck; I’m too busy right now to bother with you. You get back over to the port and leave the same way you came—and tell your blood-sucking friends the easy pickings are over as far as Glave’s concerned. You won’t lounge around here living high and throwing big parties and cooking up deals to get fat on the expense of the working man.”
Retief dribbled ash on Sozier’s desk and glanced at the green uniform front bulging between silver buttons.
“Who paid for your pot-belly, Sozier?” he inquired carelessly.
Sozier’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I could have you shot—”
“Stop playing games with me, Sozier,” Retief rapped. “There’s a squadron of Peace Enforcers standing by just in case any apprentice statesmen forget the niceties of diplomatic usage. I suggest you start showing a little intelligence about now, or even Horny and Pud are likely to notice.”
Sozier’s fingers squeaked on the arms of his chair. He swallowed.
“You might start by assigning me an escort for a conducted tour of the capital,” Retief went on. “I want to be in a position to confirm that order has been re-established, and that normal services have been restored—otherwise, it may be necessary to send in a Monitor Unit to straighten things out.”
“You can’t meddle with the internal affairs of a sovereign world—”
Retief sighed. “The trouble with taking over your boss’s job is discovering its drawbacks. It’s disillusioning, I know, Sozier—but—”
“All right! Take your tour! You’ll find everything running as smooth as silk! Utilities, police, transport, environmental control—”
“What about Space Control? Glave Tower seems to be off the air.”
“I shut it down. We don’t need anything from outside.”
“Where’s the new Premier keeping himself? Does he share your passion for privacy?”
The general got to his feet. “I’m letting you take your look, Mr. Big Nose. I’m giving you four hours. Then out! And the next meddling bureaucrat that tries to cut atmosphere on Glave without a clearance gets burned!”
“I’ll need a car.”
“Jake! You stick to this bird. Take him to the main power plant, the water works, and the dispatch center, ride him around town and show him we’re doing OK without a bunch of leeches bossing us; then dump him at the port—and see that he leaves.”
“I’ll plan my own itinerary, thanks. I can’t promise I’ll be finished in four hours—but I’ll keep you advised.”
“I warned you—”
“I heard you. Five times. And I only warned you once. You’re getting ahead of me,” Retief rose, motioned to the hulking guard. “Come on, Jake; we’ve got a lot of ground to cover before dinner.”
* * *
At the curb, Retief held out his hand. “Give me the power cylinder out of your rifle, Jake.”
“Huh?”
“Come on, Jake. You’ve got a nervous habit of playing with the firing stud. We don’t want any accidents.”
“How do you get it out? They only give me this thing yesterday.”
Retief pocketed the cylinder. “You sit in back. I’ll drive.” He wheeled the car off along a broad avenue crowded with vehicles and lined with flowering palms behind which stately white buildings reared up into the pale sky.
“Nice looking city, Jake,” Retief said conversationally. “What’s the population?”
“I dunno. I only been here a year.”
“What about Horny and Pud? Are they natives?”
“Whatta ya mean, natives? They’re just as civilized as me.”
“My boner, Jake. Known Sozier long?”
“Sure; he useta come around to the club.”
“I take it he was in the army under the old regime?”
“Yeah—but he didn’t like the way they run it. Nothing but band playing and fancy marching. There wasn’t nobody to fight.”
“Just between us, Jake—where did the former Planetary Manager General go?” Retief watched Jake’s heavy face in the mirror. Jake jumped, clamped his mouth shut.
“I don’t know nothing.”
Half an hour later, after a tour of the commercial center, Retief headed toward the city’s outskirts. The avenue curved, leading up along the flank of a low hill.
“I must admit I’m surprised, Jake,” Retief said. “Everything seems orderly; no signs of riots or panic. Power, water, communications normal—just as the general said. Remarkable, isn’t it, considering that the entire managerial class has packed up and left . . .”
“You wanta see the Power Plant?” Retief could see perspiration beaded on the man’s forehead under the uniform cap.
“Sure. Which way?” With Jake directing, Retief ascended to the ridge top, cruised past the blank white façade of the station.
“Quiet, isn’t it?” Retief pulled the car in to the curb. “Let’s go inside.”
“Huh? Corporal Sozier didn’t say nothing—”
“You’re right, Jake. That leaves it to our discretion.”
“He won’t like it.”
“The corporal’s a busy man, Jake. We won’t worry him by telling him about it.”
Jake followed Retief up the walk. The broad double doors were locked.
“Let’s try the back.”
The narrow door set in the high blank wall opened as Retief approached. A gun barrel poked out, followed by a small man with bushy red hair. He looked Retief over.
“Who’s this party, Jake?” he barked.
“Sozier said show him the plant,” Jake said.
“What we need is more guys to pull duty, not tourists. Anyway, I’m Chief Engineer here. Nobody comes in here ‘less I like their looks.”
Retief moved forward, stood looking down at the red-head. The little man hesitated, then waved him past. “Lucky for you, I like your looks.”
Inside, Retief surveyed the long room, the giant converter units, the massive bussbars. Armed men—some in uniform, some in work clothes, others in loud sport shirts—stood here and there. Other men read meters, adjusted controls, or inspected dials.
“You’ve got more guards than workers,” Retief said. “Expecting trouble?”
The red-head bit the corner from a plug of spearmint. He glanced around the plant. “Things is quiet now; but you never know . . .”
“Rather old-fashioned equipment, isn’t it? When was it installed?”
“Huh? I dunno. What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s your basic power source, a core sink? Lithospheric friction? Sub-crustal hydraulics?”
“Beats me, Mister. I’m the boss here, not a dern mechanic.”
A grey-haired man carrying a clip-board walked past, studied a panel, made notes, glanced up to catch Retief’s eye, moved on.
“Everything seems to be running normally,” Retief remarked.
“Sure; why not?”
“Records being kept up properly?”
“Sure; some of these guys, all they do is walk around looking at dials and writing stuff on paper. If it was me, I’d put ’em to work.”
Retief strolled over to the grey-haired man, now scribbling before a bank of meters. He glanced at the clip board.
Power off at sunset. Tell Corasol was scrawled in block letters across the record sheet. Retief nodded, rejoined his guard.
“All right, Jake. Let’s have a look at the communications center.”
Back in the car, headed west, Retief studied the blank windows of office buildings, the milling throngs in beer bars, shooting galleries, tattoo parlors, billiards halls, pin-ball arcades, bordellos, and half-credit casinos.
“Everybody seems to be having fun,” he remarked.
Jake stared out the window. “Yeah.”
“Too bad you’re on duty, Jake. You could be out there joining in.”
“Soon as the corporal gets things organized, I’m opening me up a place to show dirty tri-di’s. I’ll get my share.”
“Meanwhile, let the rest of ’em have their fun, eh, Jake?”
“Look, Mister, I been thinking: Maybe you better gimme back that kick-stick you taken outa my gun . . .”
“Sorry, Jake; no can do. Tell me, what was the real cause of the revolution? Not enough to eat? Too much regimentation?”
“Naw, we always got plenty to eat. There wasn’t none of that regimentation—up till I joined up in the corporal’s army.”
“Rigid class structure, maybe? Educational discrimination?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, it was them schools done it. All the time trying to make a feller go to some kind of class. Big shots. Know it all. Gonna make us sit around and view tapes. Figgered they are better than us.”
“And Sozier’s idea was you’d take over, and you wouldn’t have to be bothered.”
“Aw, it wasn’t Sozier’s idea. He ain’t the big leader.”
“Where does the big leader keep himself?”
“I dunno. I guess he’s pretty busy right now.” Jake snickered. “Some of them guys call themselves colonels turned out not to know nothing about how to shoot off the guns.”
“Shooting, eh? I thought it was a sort of peaceful revolution; the managerial class were booted out, and that was that.”
“I don’t know nothing,” Jake snapped. “How come you keep trying to get me to say stuff I ain’t supposed to talk about? You want to get me in trouble?”
“Oh, you’re already in trouble, Jake. But if you stick with me, I’ll try to get you out of it. Where exactly did the refugees head for? How did they leave? Must have been a lot of them; I’d say in a city of this size they’d run into the thousands.”