Retief stood. "My own program for the day includes going over to the
dockyards. There are some features of this new passenger liner the
Fustians are putting together that I want to look into. With your
permission, Mr. Ambassador...?"
Magnan snorted. "Your pre-occupation with the trivial disturbs me,
Retief. More interest in substantive matters--such as working with
Youth groups--would create a far better impression."
"Before getting too involved with these groups, it might be a good idea
to find out a little more about them," said Retief. "Who organizes
them? There are three strong political parties here on Fust. What's the
alignment of this SCARS organization?"
"You forget, these are merely teenagers, so to speak," Magnan said.
"Politics mean nothing to them ... yet."
"Then there are the Groaci. Why their passionate interest in a
two-horse world like Fust? Normally they're concerned with nothing but
business. But what has Fust got that they could use?"
"You may rule out the commercial aspect in this instance," said Magnan.
"Fust possesses a vigorous steel-age manufacturing economy. The Groaci
are barely ahead of them."
"Barely," said Retief. "Just over the line into crude atomics ... like
fission bombs."
Magnan shook his head, turned back to his papers. "What market exists
for such devices on a world at peace? I suggest you address your
attention to the less spectacular but more rewarding work of studying
the social patterns of the local youth."
"I've studied them," said Retief. "And before I meet any of the local
youth socially I want to get myself a good blackjack."