"Keith Laumer - Retief 3 - Retief's War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

force."
"Uh-huhтАФbut why pick the Voion for the job? Their tribe's made its living by waylaying honest
Quoppina in back alleys ever since the Great Egg first hatchedтАФ"
A heavy foot clumped behind Retief. He turned to find the four Terrans ringing him in, ominous
expressions on their weathered features.
"We're just in from the Trading Post at Rum Jungle," the lean, scar-faced member of the quartet said
flatly. "We want to have a little talk with you, Mister." He put his left fist carefully against the palm of his
right hand and twisted it, looking around nervously.
Retief nodded. "Go ahead," he said pleasantly. A large man with thick, protuberant ears and thin
sandy hair eased the scarred man aside.
"Not in this dump," he said in a voice like a cannonball rolling downstairs. "Outside."
"If it's a private matter, maybe you'd better drop by my officeтАФ"
"We already been to the Embassy; talked to some bird named Magnan," the big man said. "He acted
like his lace drawers was itching him; no joy there."
"Don't argue with this chump, Big Leon," a squatty fellow with a bluish chin and a steel front tooth
advised. "Bring him along."
The bartender leaned over and buzzed sharply. "My name is Gom-Goo," he started. "IтАФ"
"Better get your wiring checked, low-pockets," Scar-face cut him off. "Sounds like you got a short in
your talk box." He jerked his head at Retief. "Let's walk, Mister."
"I haven't quite finished my drink," Retief said mildly. "Why don't you go stand outside; I'll be along
presently."
The fourth man, yet to be heard from, edged close. "Ah, sir, we have a problem," he began. "WeтАФ"
"Skip it, Jerry," Scar-face snapped. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, glowered at Retief.
"Outside, you, like Big Leon said."
"Sorry," Retief said. "Some other time, maybe."
Scar-face narrowed his eyes, reached a large-knuckled hand for Retief's collar; Retief leaned aside,
caught the hand, and flipped it over, his fingers against the palm, his thumb against the scarred knuckles,
doubled it back over the wrist. Scar-face went to his knees with a yowl. Retief tsked.
"A very poor lead, Lefty," he said reproachfully. "It's a good thing I wasn't an enemy of yours."
"Hey," the big man said, stepping in. "Let him up."
Retief looked at the wide face that topped his own six-three by an inch. "Why do they call you Big
Leon?"
 Big Leon set himself. "Put Seymour down and I'll show you," he grated.
Retief shifted his grip, lifted the scarred man clear of the floor, hoisted him chest-high. "Here, you
have him," he offered, and tossed him at the big man. Leon staggered back, oof!ed, thrust Seymour
aside, frowned, doubled a large fist, and moved inтАФ
There was a shrill rasp of sound. A thick, five-foot Quoppina with a glistening black carapace
decked out in elaborate silver ornaments rolled between Retief and Big Leon.
"Outside, foreign grubs!" the intruder keened. He waved a long billy club of black wood, jabbed it at
the scar-faced man, who had stumbled to his feet. There were other club-wielders behind the firstтАФtwo,
three, half a dozen or more, all wearing the new black and silver trappings of the CDT-sponsored
Federal Police. The Voion captain waved his palps, giving Retief a glimpse down a yellow-green throat
set with silvery needles.
"All of you are under arrest," he rasped. "Place your manipulative members above your sense-organ
clusters and proceed hence!"
"What's the charge?" Retief asked in the Voion dialect.
"Trespassing in forbidden territory, alien, not that it matters! The example may remind your fellows to
remain in the ghetto graciously assigned to them by the indulgence of the Planetary Government!"
"Just a minute," the barkeeper interrupted from his perch above. "I am Gom-Goo andтАФ"
"Silence, panderer to alien perversions," the Voion snapped. "Or I'll find dungeon space for you,