AIDE MEMOIRE BY KEITH LAUMER The Fustians looked like turtles--but they could move fast when they chose! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheet of parchment and looked grave. "This aide memoire," he said, "was just handed to me by the Cultural Attache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to the matter of sponsorship of Youth groups--" "Some youths," Retief said. "Average age, seventy-five." "The Fustians are a long-lived people," Magnan snapped. "These matters are relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age--" "That's right. He'll try anything--in the hope it will maim somebody." "Precisely the problem," Magnan said. "But the Youth Movement is the important news in today's political situation here on Fust. And sponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of the Terrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of the mission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p--that is, cement relations with this emergent power group--the leaders of the future. You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception." "I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing their rumbles," Retief said. "Now, if you have a proposal for a pest control group--" "To the Fustians this is no jesting matter," Magnan cut in. "This group--" he glanced at the paper--"known as the Sexual, Cultural, and Athletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaiting sponsorship for a matter of weeks now." "Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipment and anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural and athletic development," Retief said. "If we don't act promptly," Magnan said, "the Groaci Embassy may well anticipate us. They're very active here." "That's an idea," said Retief. "Let 'em. After awhile they'll go broke instead of us." "Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you to step forward. However...." Magnan let the sentence hang in the air. Retief raised one eyebrow. "For a minute there," he said, "I thought you were going to make a positive statement." * * * * * Magnan leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. "I don't think you'll find a diplomat of my experience doing anything so naive," he said. "I like the adult Fustians," said Retief. "Too bad they have to lug half a ton of horn around on their backs. I wonder if surgery would help."