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

"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. "WeЧ"

"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 inЧ

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 firstЧtwo,
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 andЧ"