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. "Maybe I'll go to sleep. I ain't feeling my best today. I never do."
"All right." Thorby launched into it. Garsch listened with eyes closed, fingers laced over his bulge.
"That's all," concluded Thorby, "except that I'm anxious to get straightened out so that I can go back into the Guard."
Garsch for the first time showed interest. "Rudbek of Rudbek? In the Guard? Let's not be silly, son."
"But I'm not really 'Rudbek of Rudbek.' I'm an enlisted Guardsman who got pitched into it by circumstances beyond my control."
"I knew that part of your story; the throb writers ate it op. But we all got circumstances we can't control. Point is, a man doesn't quit his job. Not when it's his."
"It's not mine," Thorby answered stubbornly.
"Let's not fiddle. First, we get your parents declared dead. Second, we demand their wills and proxies. If they make a fuss, we get a court order . . . and even the mighty Rudbek folds up under a simple subpoena-or-be-locked-up-for-contempt." He bit a fingernail. "Might be some time before the estate is settled and you are qualified. Court might appoint you to act, or the wills may say who, or the court might appoint somebody else. But it won't be those two, if what you say is correct. Even one of Bruder's pocket judges wouldn't dare; it would be too raw and he'd know he'd be reversed."
"But what can I do if they won't even start the action to have my parents declared dead?"
"Who told you you had to wait on them? You're the interested party; they might not even qualify as amicus curiae
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