Keith Laumer

“ Arapoulous nodded. "All local timbers too. Lots of metals in our soil and those sulphates give the woods some color, I'll tell you. Then comes the Monsoon. Rain—it comes down in sheets. But the sun's getting closer. Shines all the time. Ever seen it pouring rain in the sunshine? That's the music-writing season. Then summer. Summer's hot. We stay inside in the daytime and have beach parties all night. Lots of beach on Lovenbroy; we're mostly islands. That's the drama and symphony time. The theatres are set up on the sand, or anchored off-shore. ”

“ Retief said. "You may have something there. But I'm wondering what they'll study on d'Land. That's an industrial world of the poor but honest variety."
"Academic details are the affair of the students and their professors," Magnan said. "Our function is merely to bring them together. See that you don't antagonize the Bogan representative. This will be an excellent opportunity for you to practice your diplomatic restraint—not your strong point, I'm sure you'll agree."
A buzzer sounded. Retief punched a button. "What is it, Miss Furkle?"
"That—bucolic person from Lovenbroy is here again." ”

“ Autumn's our harvest season. Most years we have just the ordinary crops. Fruit, grain, that kind of thing; getting it in doesn't take long. We spend most of the time on architecture, getting new places ready for the winter or remodeling the older ones. We spend a lot of time in our houses. We like to have them comfortable. But this year's different. This is Wine Year."
Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. "Our wine crop is our big money crop," he said. "We make enough to keep us going. ”

“ He shifted in his chair. "Well, out on Lovenbroy we've got a serious problem. The wine crop is just about ready. We start picking in another two, three months. Now I don't know if you're familiar with the Bacchus vines we grow...?"
"No," Retief said. "Have a cigar?" He pushed a box across the desk. Arapoulous took one. "Bacchus vines are an unusual crop," he said, puffing the cigar alight. "Only mature every twelve years. In between, the vines don't need a lot of attention, so our time's mostly our own. We like to farm, though. Spend a lot of time developing new forms. ”

“ 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?" ”

“ This is an accommodation to a group with which we have rather strong business ties."
"I understand you hold a mortgage on the best land on Lovenbroy," Retief said. "Any connection?"
"Why ... ah ... no. Of course not, ha ha."
"Who gets the tractors eventually?"
"Retief, this is unwarranted interference!"
"Who gets them?"
"They happen to be going to Lovenbroy. But I scarcely see—"
"And who's the friend you're helping out with an unauthorized transshipment of grant material?"
"Why ... ah ... I've been working with a Mr. Gulver, a Bogan representative." ”

“ 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." ”

“ 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. ”

“ Why all this interest in a few surplus tractors? And in any event, what business is it of yours how we plan to use the equipment? That's an internal affair of my government. Mr. Whaffle—"
"I'm not Mr. Whaffle. What are you going to do with the other four hundred and ninety tractors?"
"I understood the grant was to be with no strings attached!"
"I know it's bad manners to ask questions. It's an old diplomatic tradition that any time you can get anybody to accept anything as a gift, you've scored points in the game. But if Croanie has some scheme cooking—"
"Nothing like that, Retief. ”

“ Miss Furkle, Mr. Magnan is vacationing. That leaves me with the question of two thousand young male students headed for a world with no classrooms for them ... a world in need of tractors. But the tractors are on their way to Croanie, a world under obligation to Boge. And Croanie holds a mortgage on the best grape acreage on Lovenbroy. ”

“ Retief said. "Where's the baggage now?"
"Coming in aboard a Croanie lighter."
"Maybe you'd like to arrange for a meal for the students here."
"Sure," Karsh said. "That's a good idea. Why don't you join us?" Karsh winked. "And bring a few beers."
"Not this time," Retief said. He watched the students, still emerging from Customs. "They seem to be all boys," he commented. "No female students?"
"Maybe later," Karsh said. "You know, after we see how the first bunch is received."
Back at the MUDDLE office, Retief buzzed Miss Furkle. ”

“ Arapoulous leaned forward. "We go in pretty heavy for the arts. Folks can't spend all their time hybridizing plants. We've turned all the land area we've got into parks and farms. Course, we left some sizable forest areas for hunting and such. Lovenbroy's a nice place, Mr. ”

“ Retief followed her along the stacks to a well-lit section lettered ARMAMENTS. She took a tape from the shelf, plugged it into the viewer, flipped through and stopped at a squat armored vehicle.
"That's the model WV," she said. "It's what is known as a continental siege unit. ”

“ 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. ”