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sir, isolated as I am at Dobe, well off the trade routes, I've had
little opportunity to fill myself in on the particular problem—the Ree invasion,
I presume you mean, sir.
     
                Crodfoller
drew a jagged line across the pattern which had begun to evolve on his pad and
wrote, 'Sidesaddle, have record up for review!' Then he let his glance wander
to the cadaverous, uniformed figure of General Ralph Otherday.
     
                "Ralph,"
the chairman addressed the officer blandly, "perhaps you'd be good enough
to outline the situation for Ambassador Sidesaddle, and any others present who
may have failed to keep their Classified Despatch Binders up to date."
     
                General
Otherday rose, a tall, gaunt man with a heavily sunlamped face and a black
brush mustache.
     
                "Fellows,"
he began abruptly. "It's like this: those damn worms—the Ree, they call
themselves—have been making nuisances of themselves all across Tip space for
some months now. Our intelligence boys say they've strayed across from the
Western Arm, and we've been getting howls from every Tom, Dick, and Meyer on
the frontier: infernal worms landing and menacing settlers and generally acting
as if they own the place—. All our outlying systems are infested, it appears,
and with our thin coverage out there, we haven't been able to bring them to
decisive battle. One report here—" he stabbed at an imaginary trideogram
of Tip space suspended before him "—and the next one over here." He
indicated a spot eighteen inches, or a fractional light, from the first.
"We head out that way, and they strike behind us, just isolated units, you
understand, no concentration of force we can get our teeth into. So far,
they've nibbled their way halfway across the Tip, and are about to enter the
Arm proper. Frankly, we're running low on supplies, and the minor skirmishes
we've had so far have been quite indecisive. So—we'll either have to mobilize
the reserves, or call for an appropriation that will enable us to mount an
across-the-board offensive, or fall back to prepared positions within
the Arm and wait for their next move."
     
                "Ah,
the appropriation you have in mind, General," Crodfoller mused in a tone
of innocence. "About how much—"
     
                "Precisely
twenty billion GUC this fiscal year, Mr. Undersecretary," the general
replied promptly. "Calling up the reserves would be cheaper— and
faster."
     
                "Out
of the question!" Crodfoller's pronouncement blanketed the chorus of
shocked gasps from the committee members.
     
                General
Otherday resumed his seat, clipped a Jorgensen cigar, and glanced Chairmanward
inquiringly, at which Crodfoller boomed:
     
                "Light
that thing, Ralph, and we'll see what kind of job a buck general can do on
KP."
     
                The
general deftly tucked away the offensive smoke, unlit, and assumed a bitter
smile. "Sorry, sir. I'm just a simple soldier, you recall, not accustomed
to such plush surroundings, of course. Out there in the foxholes, we get a
little careless about the niceties like air-conditioning."
     
                "It's
my understanding that you and your staff are quartered at the Ritz-Krudlu, on
Gaspierre, Ralph," Crodfoller countered. "Had no intention of denying
a vereran his comforts, of course."
     
                "Sure,"
the general agreed, "but what about these Ree? While we're sitting here
jawing about air conditioning, they're eating our outposts and settlements like
a Creepie swallowing jelly beans."
     
                "It
is precisely that question that brings us here today, Ralph," Crodfoller
said reasonably. "I have, at the request of your chief, Grand Admiral
Starbird, called together my Principal Officers and their key staffs from every
mission above Consulate-General rank in the entire Sector! And