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Narval removed the tiny ear piece through which he had listened to Brad give his orders, smiled with satisfaction, and pressed a button along the edge of his desk.
"Scarf out there?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"In."
Scarf sidled in and stood deferentially at the entry.
"Don't just stand there, you idiot," Narval snapped. "Get up here where I can talk to you."
Scarf hastened forward and halted a couple of meters from the desk. He held his helmet in one hand and saluted with the other.
"Here are my orders to you for while I'm gone. Double the guards on Planet Pluto's spunnel transmitter. No Plutonian communications are to be permitted to destinations outside the Special Zone. One exception: I've given Drummer orders that when he completes the tasks I've assigned him, he is to send a flash message to me at the conference site. Assign reliable technicians to open the spunnel center for only that one outgoing message."
"Yes, sir."