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. He put both sets into a comparator, seemed to pay no attention but until it flashed green he spoke only politenesses.
Then he said, "All right, Thorby Baslim . . . Rudbek. What can I do for you?"
"Maybe it's what I can do for you?"
"So?"
"I came here for two reasons," Thorby stated. "The first Is, I think I can add something to Colonel Baslim's final report. You know who I mean?"
"I knew him and admired him very much. Go on."
"The second is -- I'd like to go back into the Guard and go 'X' Corps." Thorby couldn't recall when he had decided this, but he had -- not just Pop's outfit, Pop's own corps. Pop's work.
"Smith" raised his brows. "So? Rudbek of Rudbek?"
"I'm getting that fixed." Thorby sketched rapidly how he must settle his parents' estate, arrange for handling of their affairs. "Then I'm free. I know it's presumptuous of an acting ordnanceman third class -- no, I was busted from that; I had a fight -- for a boot Guardsman to talk about 'X' Corps, but I think I've got things you could use. I know the People . . . the Free Traders, I mean. I speak several languages. I know how to behave in the Nine Worlds. I've been around a bit, not much and I'm no astrogator . . . but I've traveled a little. Besides that, I've seen how Pop -- Colonel Baslim -- worked. Maybe I could do some of it."
"You have to love this work to do it. Lots of times it's nasty
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