"I'm just a diplomat, not a contortionist," Retief said, not moving. "Do you mind pointing that thing in some other direction?"
"Looky here, Mister, I'll give the orders. We don't need anybody telling us how to run our business."
"I'm telling you to shift that blaster before I take it away from you and wrap it around your neck," Retief said conversationally. The cop stepped back uncertainly, lowering the gun.
"Jake! Horny! Pud! come on out!"
Three more brown uniforms emerged from concealment.
"Who are you fellows hiding from, the top sergeant?" Retief glanced over the ill-fitting uniforms, the unshaved faces, the scuffed boots. "Tell you what. When he shows up, I'll engage him in conversation. You beat it back to the barracks and grab a quick bath—"
"That's enough smart talk." The biggest of the three newcomers moved up to Retief. "You stuck your nose in at the wrong time. We just had a change of management around here."
"I heard about it," Retief said. "Who do I complain to?"
"Complain? What about?"
"The port's a mess," Retief barked. "Nobody on duty to receive official visitors! No passenger service facilities! Why, do you know I had to carry my own bag—"