His father smiled. "Man retires, he's supposed to be all through with
duty. Not subject to recall except in case of galaxy-wide emergency."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"True. But a lot of people never really retire from the Guard. Things
keep coming up, and that pension begins to look more like a retainer
fee."
He held up a hand.
"Suppose I give you a little go-around on some history that isn't in
the books--at least not in the books they use in these schools.
"Of course, you know about the arrival of the _Stellar Queen_. You've
read all about the original trade contracts here in Oredan. And you've
read a lot about the immigrations. And the border settlements.
"Yes, and you know about the accession of Daniel Stern, first to the
Ministry of Finance, then to the Prime Ministry, then to the Regency.
Quite a success story, that. And you have read about the mixup in the
royal succession." He smiled.
"It all went about that way. Oh, sure, it wasn't quite as peaceable and
orderly as the books make it look, but no history bothers with the
minor slugfests. What they're concerned in is the big picture.
"Well, when the king agreed to colonization of the outer provinces,
quite a few people came crowding out here. And there was more than a
little thievery and brawling and rioting. Naturally, the Federation
Council was interested. And the Stellar Guard was more directly
interested.
[Illustration]
"So, they encouraged a lot of retired guardsmen to come out here,
weapons and all. And they assigned a few more people to ... well, sort
of keep an eye on things. They set some people up with reasonably
decent claims, saw to it that the rest of us got a good start, and left
us to take it from there." He smiled.
"We had some fun, now and then. Got the border pacified. Got the crooks
and the tough boys calmed down. And we got the hill tribes cooled off
some, too. Even made friends with them--after a while. And some guys
got married and made noises like real Khlorisanu--genuine Oredanu, in
fact. A few of them married Oredana girls." He laughed shortly.
"The Khlorisanu are humanoid--human to as many decimals as you need to
go. There's a little minor variation in superficial appearance between
them and the average galactic, but there's no basic difference. Quite a
few of the fellows found the local girls made good wives.
"But anyway. There wasn't any real organization among us. We just ...
well, sort of knew what the other fellow was about. Kind of kept our
own personal policy files. And things went along pretty well.
"Oh, there were some fellows who stuck to some sort of organizational
structure, I suppose. You know how that is--some guys can't draw a deep
breath unless the rest of the team is there to fill in the picture.
* * * * *
"And then, there were several people like Andy Masterson, who showed up
from nowhere. That was none of my business. Happened to know Andy, but
I've never talked to him here. Those people had complete new
backgrounds. No Guard experience--it says here. And they joined the
economy--took out Oredan citizenship. Some of them got into government
work.
"Then this guy, Daniel Stern, showed up. He started grabbing influence
with both hands. Smart young guy. Killed off a prime minister--we
think--and a king. Can't prove any of that, though." Kent shook his
head.
"Don't think we didn't try to stop him, once we realized what he was up
to. We did. About that time, a whole lot of us did get together and
organize. But he's one of those people. If he tells a man to go out and
shoot himself, the next thing you hear is the sound of a falling body."
His eyes clouded and he looked searchingly at Don.
"You should know what I mean. Like when you told that Ghar thief to
tell us all about it--remember?"
"Look, Dad, that's something I'd like to know...."
Kent Michaels waved a hand. "So would I. But I know less about it than
you do, so it's no use. All I know is that some people can tell most
anyone to do almost anything--and it gets done. As I said, Stern seems
to be one of them." He shrugged.
"Anyway, we lost a lot of good colonists before we decided to sit back
and wait this boy out.
"It's been a long wait. Some of us have gotten rich in the meantime, in
spite of Stern's trick taxes. Some of us have had a pretty rough time,
I guess. But we're all growing older, and Stern's pretty cagey about
immigration. Doubt if many guardsmen are getting in these days. We're
going to have to depend on our kids, I think."
Don leaned forward.
"In other words, I could have kicked over an applecart?"
"Well, let's say you might have bent an axle on your own pretty, blue
wagon. It's a good thing Masterson was there when you blew up. Anyone
else, and I might have come up short one son. I wouldn't like that too
well. Might make me go down to Oreladar and try a little target
practice." He frowned thoughtfully.
"You know, come to think of it, no one ever made me do anything I
didn't want to do."
Don looked thoughtful.
"What do I do now?"
"Just what you said. Start working for your keep. If I get the news
right, the waiting period is about over. Stern's finally dipped his toe
in the water, with that business over Waern, and we might be able to do
something. You just might get your teeth into it. And maybe I'll find
myself going back to work.
"First, you'll have to go back to Riandar. Apologize to Masterson, of
course, and give him a peace offering. I'll give you a bottle of
Diamond Brandy before you leave. Be sure you hold the diamond in front
of him when you stick the bottle out. Otherwise, he might throw
something. He'll take it from there." The older man grinned.
"And if I remember Andy Masterson, he'll come up with enough work to
keep you busy."
* * * * *
Andrew Masterson frowned at the bottle held before him.
"What's this?" he inquired. "You know better than to bring stuff like
this on the grounds."
Don Michaels shrugged. "Dad said there wasn't too much of it around any
more. Thought you might like some."
"Oh, he did? Yeah. Well, I'll take it as well meant. Might find someone
who could use it." Masterson opened a drawer and thrust the bottle
inside.
"He have anything else to say?"
Don nodded, looking at Masterson's suddenly watchful eyes. "He said if
you'd come up our way, he'd show you how to hold 'em and squeeze 'em.
Said maybe you might like to bring up some friends some time and give
them a chance to find out what border life is like."
"Huh! You mean he's still playing games with those antique lead
tossers?" Masterson grinned suddenly. "Thought he'd have outgrown that
foolishness years ago. By the way, how's he shooting these days?"
"Fired a pinwheel after I told him about the row yesterday. Meant he
only dropped three points on the target--standing."
"So? Maybe he could do damage with one of those antiques of his, at
that--if he could get someone to hold still long enough for him to
shoot at them. But nobody makes ammunition for the things any more.
Where's he getting that?"
"Makes it himself." Don smiled. "He's got quite a workshop down in the
basement."
Masterson nodded. "That's Kent Michaels, all right. O.K., youngster, I
knew who you were in the first place. Just checking. Tell me, did he
get you mixed up with that antique craze of his?"