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"I'll tell you why," he said. "It's you birds. You and your trade agreement. You're here to tie Petreac into some kind of trade combine. That cuts Rotune out. Well, we're doing all right out here. We don't need any commitments to a lot of fancy-pants on the other side of the Galaxy." "That's what Rotune has sold you, eh?" Retief said, smiling. "Sold, nothing!"
Joe, irritated, said, "What in Zen do you want?" The stranger shook his head, as though to clear it. He sneered, "The famous Joe Mauser, eh? The brave soldier-boy. Well, lemme tell you something, soldier-boy, you don't look so tough to me with your cute little mustache and your fancy-pants uniform. You look like a molly to me." "That's too bad," Joe bit out. "And now, if you'll just go away."
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