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. He did figure out that this officer knew Pop, which was good . . . but what was this about Pop being a colonel? Pop was Baslim the Cripple, licensed mendicant under the mercy of . . . under the mercy . . .
Colonel Brisby told him sharply to sit down, which he was glad to do. Then the Colonel speeded up the air blower. He turned to Captain Krausa. "All right. I'm sold. I don't know what regulation I'm authorized to do it under . . . we are required to give assistance to 'X' Corps people, but this is not quite that But I can't let Colonel Baslim down."
" 'Distressed citizen,' " suggested Krausa.
"Eh? I don't see how that can be stretched to fit a person on a planet under the Hegemony, who is obviously not distressed -- other than a little white around the gills, I mean. But I'll do it."
"Thank you, Skipper." Krausa glanced at his watch. "May I go? In fact I must."
"Just a second. You're simply leaving him with me?"
"I'm afraid that's the way it must be."
Brisby shrugged. "As you say. But stay for lunch. I want to find out more about Colonel Baslim."
"I'm sorry, I can't. You can reach me at the Gathering, if you need to."
"I will. Well, coffee at least." The ship commander reached for a button.
"Skipper," Krausa said with distress, looking again at his watch, "I must leave now. Today is our Remembrance . . . and my Mother's funeral is in fifty minutes
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