In the uproar, Retief moved along to the elevator, felt over the control panel, located a small knurled button. He turned it; the panel came away. He fumbled cautiously, found a toggle switch, flipped it. A light sprang up in the car; instantly, Retief flipped the light switch; the glow faded. He waited. No alarm. Men were picking themselves up, shouting.
” . . . them broads dropped a hundred gallon bag of water . . .” someone complained.
” . . . up there fast, men. We got the door OK!”
Feet thumped. Yells sounded.
“No good, Wes! They got a safe or something in the way!”
Retief silently closed the lift door, pressed the button. With a sigh, the car slid upward, came to a gentle stop. He eased the door open, looked out into a dim-lit entrance hall. Footsteps sounded beyond a door. He waited, heard the clack of high heels crossing a floor. Retief stepped out of the car, went to the door, glanced into a spacious lounge with rich furniture, deep rugs, paintings, a sweep of glass, and in an alcove at the far side, a bar. Retief crossed the room, poured a stiff drink into a paper-thin glass, and drained it.
The high-heeled steps were coming back now. A door opened. Two leggy young women in shorts, with red-gold hair bound back by ribbons—one green, one blue—stepped into the room. One held a coil of insulated wire; the other carried a heavy-looking grey-enameled box eight inches on a side.
“Now, see if you can tinker that thing to put out about a thousand amps at two volts, Lyn,” the girl with the wire said. “I’ll start stringing . . .” her voice died as she caught sight of Retief. He raised his glass. “My compliments, ladies. I see you’re keeping yourselves amused.”
“Who . . . who are you?” Lyn faltered.
“My name’s Retief; your father sent me along to carry your bags. It’s lucky I arrived when I did, before any of those defenseless chaps outside were seriously injured.”
“You’re not . . . one of them?”
“Of course he’s not, Lyn,” the second girl said. “He’s much too good-looking.”
“That’s good,” Lyn said crisply. “I didn’t want to have to use this thing.” She tossed a bright-plated 2mm needler onto a chair and sat down. “Dad’s all right, isn’t he?”
“He’s fine, and we’ve got to be going. Tight schedule, you know. And you’d better get some clothes on. It’s cold outside.”
Lyn nodded. “Environmental Control went off the air six hours ago; you can already feel snow coming.”
“Don’t you suppose we have time to just rig up one little old circuit?” the other twin wheedled. “Nothing serious; just enough to tickle.”
“We planned to wire all the window frames, the trunk we used to block the stair, the lift shaft—”
“And then we thought we’d try to drop a loop down and pick up the gallery guard rail, and maybe some of that wrought-iron work around the front of the house—”
“Sorry, girls; no time.”
Five minutes later, the twins were ready, wrapped in fur robes. Retief had exchanged his soaked blazer for a down-lined weatherproof.
“The lift will take us all the way down, won’t it?” he asked.
Lyn nodded. “We can go out through the wine cellar.”
Retief picked up the needler and handed it to Lyn. “Hang on to this,” he said. “You may need it yet.”
* * *
A cold wind whipped the ramp as dawn lightened the sky.
“It’s hard to believe,” Corasol said. “What made him do it?”
“He saw a chance to own it all.”
“He can have it.” Corasol’s communicator beeped. He put it to his ear. “Everything’s ship-shape and ready to lift,” a tiny voice said.
Corasol turned to Retief. “Let’s go aboard—”
“Hold it,” Retief said. “There’s someone coming . . .”
Corasol spoke into the communicator. “Keep him covered, but don’t fire unless he does.”
The man slogging across the concrete was short, wrapped in heavy garments. Over his head a white cloth fluttered from a stick.
“From the set of those bat-ears, I’d say it was the good corporal.”
“I wonder what he wants.”
Sozier stopped twenty feet from Retief and Corasol.
“I want to . . . ah . . . talk to you, Corasol,” he said.
“Certainly, General. Go right ahead.”
“Look here, Corasol. You can’t do this. My men will freeze. We’ll starve. I’ve been thinking it over, and I’ve decided we can reach an understanding.”
Corasol waited.
“I mean, we can get together on this thing. Compromise. Maybe I acted a little hasty.” Sozier looked from Corasol to Retief. “You’re from the CDT. You tell him. I’ll guarantee his people full rights . . .”
Retief puffed at his cigar in silence; Sozier started again.
“Look, I’ll give you a full voice in running things. A fifty-fifty split. Whatta you say?”
“I’m afraid the proposal doesn’t interest me, General,” Corasol said.
“Never mind the General stuff,” Sozier said desperately. “Listen, you can run it. Just give me and my boys a little say-so.”
“Sorry,” Corasol shook his head. “Not interested, General.”
“OK, OK! You win! Just come on back and get things straightened out! I got a belly fully of running things!”
“I’m afraid I have other plans, General. For some time I’ve wanted to transfer operations to a world called Las Palmas on which we hold a charter. It has a naturally delightful climate, and I’m told the fishing is good. I leave Glave to the Free Electorate with my blessing. Goodbye, General.” He turned to the ship.
“You got to stay here!” Sozier howled. “We’ll complain to the CDT! And don’t call me General. I’m a Corporal—”
“You’re a General now—whether you like it or not,” Corasol said bluntly. He shivered. There was a hint of ice in the air. “If you or any of your men ever decide to go to work, General, I daresay we can train you for employment on Las Palmas. In the meantime—Long Live the Revolution!”
“You can’t do this! I’ll sue!”
“Calm down, Sozier,” Retief said. “Go back to town and see if you can get your radio working. Put in a call for Mr. Magnan aboard the CDT vessel. Tell him your troubles. It will make his day. And a word of advice: Mr. Magnan hates a piker—so ask for plenty.”
* * *
“My boy, I’m delighted,” Ambassador Sternwheeler boomed. “A highly professional piece of work. A stirring testimonial to the value of the skilled negotiator! An inspiration to us all!”
“You’re too kind, Mr. Ambassador,” Retief said, glancing at his watch.
“And Magnan tells me that not only will the mission be welcomed, and my job secure for another year—that is, I shall have an opportunity to serve—but a technical mission has been requested as well. I shall look forward to meeting General Sozier. He sounds a most reasonable chap.”
“Oh, you’ll like him, Mr. Ambassador. A true democrat, willing to share all you have.”
Counselor of Embassy Magnan tapped and entered the office.
“Forgive the intrusion, Mr. Ambassador,” he said breathlessly, “but—”
“Well, what is it man! The deal hasn’t gone sour . . . ?”
“Oh, far from it! I’ve been exploring General Sozier’s economic situation with him via scope—and it seems he’ll require a loan . . .”
“Yes, yes? How much?”
Magnan inhaled proudly. “Twenty. Million. Credits.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Magnificent! Good lord, Magnan, you’re a genius! This will mean promotions all around. Why, the administrative load alone—”
“I can’t wait to make planetfall, Mr. Ambassador. I’m all abubble with plans. I hope they manage to get the docking facilities back in operation soon.”
“Help is on the way, my dear Magnan. I’m assured the Environmental Control installations will be coming back in operation again within a month or two.”
“My, didn’t those ice-caps form quickly—and in the open sea.”
“Mere scum-ice. As my Counselor for Technical Affairs, you’ll be in charge of the ice-breaking operation once we’re settled in. I imagine you’ll want to spend considerable time in the field. I’ll be expecting a record of how every credit is spent.”
“I’m more the executive type,” Magnan said. “Possibly Retief—”
A desk speaker hummed. “Mr. Corasol’s lighter has arrived to ferry Mr. Retief across to the Company ship . . .”
“Sorry you won’t be with us, Retief,” Sternwheeler said heartily. He turned to Magnan. “Manager-General Corasol has extended Retief an exequatur as Consul General to Las Palmas.”
Retief nodded. “Much as I’d like to be out in that open boat with you, breaking ice, I’m afraid duty calls elsewhere.”
“Your own post? I’m not sure he’s experienced enough, Mr. Ambassador. Now, I—”
“He was requested by name, Magnan. It seems the Manager-General’s children took a fancy to him.”
“Eh? How curious. I never thought you were particularly interested in infant care, Retief.”
“Perhaps I haven’t been, Mr. Magnan.” Retief draped his short blue cape over his left arm and turned to the door. “But remember the diplomat’s motto: be adaptable . . .”