We strolled on towards the reception buildings, between the rows of gaudy glittering soldiers, erect as statues with their rifles at present arms.
"I'll show you," I said and led her over to the nearest soldier while the pram turned to follow us. He was tall, erect, big-jawed, steel-eyed, everything a soldier should be.
"Right shoulder-HARMS!" I barked in my best parade ground manner. He obeyed instantly with a great deal of snappy exactitude. Gray haired too, he must have been at the game for a long time.
"Inspection… wait for it… HARMS!"
He snapped the weapon down across his chest and with a double clack-clack opened the inspection port and extended the rifle. I seized it and looked inside the receiver. Spotless. I held it up to the sky and looked down the barrel and saw only unrelieved blackness.
"There's something blocking the barrel."
"Yes, sir. Orders, sir."
"What is it?"
"Lead, sir. Melted it and poured it in myself."
"An excellent weapon. Carry on trooper." I hurled it back at him and be caught and rattled it efficiently. There was something about him.
"Don't I know you, trooper?"
"Perhaps, sir, I've done duty on many planets. I was a colonel once.
There was a distant glint in his eyes when he said this, but it quickly faded. Of course. I hadn't recognized him without his beard. He was the officer that Kraj had watching me, who tried to shoot me when we first landed on Burada.
"I knew that man, high ranking officer," I told Angelina as we strolled on.
"Very little chance for that kind of work now. He should be happy he has a job that keeps him out in the fresh air. It's amazing that they all seem to be taking it so well."
"They have little choice. When their empire collapsed they flocked back here to Cliaand—and found out that all their mineral and power resources had been exhausted during the invasion years and they had never noticed it. So it was either farm or go hungry. I understand that the agriculture is going just fine right now. And the gray men are gone, Inskipp sent agents in and found they had all packed up and left. To cause trouble elsewhere I suppose. We are going to have to track them to their home planet one of these days."
"Nasty people. That's where a globe-buster bomb would do some good."
"Not in front of the children," I said, patting her hand. "You don't want them to get wrong thoughts about their mother."
"They'll get some right ones. And I'm still suspicious of these ex-warrior types."
"Don't be. We had political agents in here after the breakdown. Issuing orders and orders are one thing they know how to take. All things considered they have been quite good about it."
Angelina sniffed, still not convinced. "I wonder what bright boy thought up the tourist routine—and suggested we come on the first tour ship?"
"I did. Guilty on both counts. And don't look daggers at me. They need something that will keep them busy and bring in foreign exchange and that sort of thing, and tourism is about all a planet without resources can manage. They have swimming and skiing and all the usual things, plus a deadly sort of fascination for the people they once invaded. It will work out, you just wait and see."
Hordes of uniformed porters jostled for our baggage, then led the way with the bags to the surface transportation. Things had changed mightily since my first visit to this planet. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, too. I don't think they were ever cut out to be a warrior race and interstellar conquerors. For old times' sake I had registered us at the Zlato-Zlato where I had first stayed, still the most luxurious hotel in town. The doorman's manners were far better this time and the desk clerk even bowed as we came up.
"Welcome to Cliaand, General and Mrs. James diGriz and sons. May your stay here be an enjoyable one."
Traveling with a title always helps, even more so on this world. I looked around the lobby and then at the clerk.
"Otrov! Is that you?" I said. He bowed again.
"I am Otrov, indeed sir, but I am afraid you have the better of me."
"Sorry. Couldn't expect you to recognize me with my own face, or a reasonable facsimile. The last time you talked to me you thought I was a creature named Kraj, and before that you knew me as Vaska Hulja."
"Vaska—can it be you! It is, I do believe, the voice of course." Then his own voice sank. "I hope you will accept my apology at this late date. I never did feel right about helping that Kraj to capture you. Even though I was unconscious for a day and a half, I was still rather happy you had escaped. I know you were a spy and all that, but…"
"Say no more. The matter is closed and I prefer to think of you as the roommate of our drinking days."
"Most kind. Would you grant me the courtesy of shaking your hand?"
We shook and I looked at him curiously.
"You've changed, for the better I think. Put on a little weight, polished up the old manners."