Retief-Ambassador to Space (13 page)

There was a sound of pounding feet
from the stairwell; a fresh contingent of locals came charging into view on
stub legs. Retief took two steps, caught the leader full in the face with a
spread hand, sent him reeling back down among his followers, as Mulvihill
appeared, Wee Willie over his shoulder, yelling and kicking.

"There's more on the way,"
Retief called. "We'll have to go up."

The girl nodded, started up, three
steps at a time. Mulvihill dropped the midget, who scampered after her.
Professor Fate tucked his bird away, disappeared up the stairs in giant
strides, Mulvihill and Retief behind him.

On the roof, Retief slammed the heavy
door, shot the massive bolt. It was late evening now; cool blue air flowed
across the unrailed deck; faint crowd sounds floated up from the street twenty
stories below.

"Willie, go secure that other
door," Mulvihill commanded. He went to the edge of the roof, looked down,
shook his head, started across toward another side. The redhead called to him.

"Over here, Julie ..."

Retief joined Mulvihill at her side. A
dozen feet down and twenty feet distant across a narrow street was the slanted
roof of an adjacent building. A long ladder was clamped to brackets near the
ridge.

"Looks like that's it,"
Mulvihill nodded. Suzette unlimbered a coil of light line from a clip at her
waist, gauged the distance to a projecting ventilator intake, swung the rope,
and let it fly; the broad loop spread, slapped the opposite roof, encircling
the target. With a tug, the girl tightened the noose, quickly whipped the end
around a four-inch stack. She stooped, pulled off her shoes, tucked them in her
belt, tried the taut rope, with one foot.

"Take it easy, baby,"
Mulvihill muttered. She nodded, stepped out on the taut, down-slanting cable,
braced her feet, spread her arms, and in one smooth swoop, slid along the line
and stepped off the far end, turned and executed a quick curtsy.

"This is no time to ham it
up," Mulvihill boomed.

"Just habit," the girl said.
She went up the roof, freed the ladder, released the catch that caused an
extensible section to slide out, then came back to the roofs edge, deftly
raised the ladder to a vertical position.

"Catch!" she let it lean
toward Mulvihill and Retief; as it fell both men caught it, lowered it the last
foot.

"Hey, you guys," Willie
called. "I can't get this thing locked!"

"Never mind that now,"
Mulvihill rumbled. "Come on, Prof," he said to the lean
prestidigitator. "You first."

The professor's Adam's apple bobbed as
he swallowed. He peered down at the street far below, then threw his shoulders
back, clambered up onto the ladder, and started across on all fours.

"Don't look down,
Professor," Suzie called. "Look at me."

"Let's go, Willie!"
Mulvihill called over his shoulder. He freed the rope, tossed it across, then
stepped up on the ladder, started across, one small step at a time. "This
isn't my strong suit," he muttered, teeth together. The professor had
reached the far side. Mulvihill was half way. There was a sudden yelp from
Willie. Retief turned. The midget was struggling against the door, which was
being forced open from inside.

"Hey!" Mulvihill boomed.
Suzie squealed. Retief sprinted for the embattled midget, caught him as he was
hurled backward as the door flew open, disgorging three Gaspierre who staggered
for balance, went down as Retief thrust out a foot. He thrust Wee Willie aside,
picked up the nearest native, pitched him back inside, followed with the other
two, then slammed the door, tried the bolt.

"It's sprung," he said.
"Let's go, Willie!" He caught up the small man, ran for the ladder
where Mulvihill still stood, halfway across.

"Come on, Julie!" the girl
cried. "It won't hold both of you!"

There were renewed breathy yells from
the site of the scuffle. The door had burst open again, and more Gaspierre were
spilling from it. Mulvihill snorted, finished the crossing and scrambled for
footing on the slanting roof. Retief stepped out on the limber ladder, started
across, Willie under his arm.

"Look out!" Suzette said
sharply. The rungs jumped under Retiefs feet. He reached the roof in two jumps,
dropped the midget, turned to see a huddle of Gaspierre tugging at the ladder.
One, rendered reckless in his zeal, started across. Retief picked up the end of
the ladder, shook it; the local squeaked, scrambled back. Retief hauled the
ladder in.

"Up here," the girl called.
Retief went up the slope, looked down at an open trap door in the opposite
slope. He followed the others down through it into a musty loft, latched it
behind him. The loft door opened into an empty hall. They followed it, found a
lift, rode it down to ground level, Outside in a littered alley, the crowd
noises were faint.

"We appear to have out-foxed the
ruffians," Professor Fate said, adjusting his cuffs.

"The Gaspers ain't far
behind," Wee Willie shrilled. "Let's make tracks!"

"We'll find a spot and hide out
until dark," Retief said. "Then we'll make our try."

A faint gleam from Gaspierre's three
bright star-sized moons dimly illuminated the twisting alley along which Retief
led the four Terrans.

"The port is half a mile from the
city wall " he said softly to Mulvihill at his side. "We can climb it
between watchtowers, and circle around and hit the ramp from the east."

"They got any guards posted out
there?" the big man asked, "I think the Krultch will have a few
sentries out."

"Oh-oh, here's the wall ..."
The barrier loomed up, twelve feet high, Suzette came forward, looked it over.

"I'll check the top," she
said. "Give me a boost, Julie." He lifted her, raised her to arm's
length. She put a foot on the top of his head, stepped up. Mulvihill grunted.
"Watch out some Gasper cop doesn't spot you!"

"Cpast is clear." She pulled
herself up. "Come on, Willie, I'll give you a hand." Mulvihill lifted
the midget, who caught the girl's hand, scrambled up. Mulvihill bent over, and
Retief stepped in his cupped hands, then to the big man's shoulders, reached
the top of the wall. The girl lowered her rope for Mulvihill. He clambered up,
swearing softly, with Retiefs help hoisted his bulk to the top of the wall. A
moment later the group was moving off quietly across open ground toward the
south edge of the port.

Lying flat at the edge of the ramp,
Retief indicated a looming, light-encrusted silhouette.

"That's her," he said.
"Half a million tons, crew of three hundred."

"Big enough, ain't she?" Wee
Willie chirped.

"Hsst! There's a Krultch ...
!" Mulvihill pointed.

Retief got softly to his feet.
"Wait until I get in position behind that fuel monitor ..."he pointed
to a dark shape crouching fifty feet distant. "Then make a few suspicious
noises."

"I better go with you,
Retief," Mulvihill started, but Retief was gone. He moved forward
silently, reached the shelter of the heavy apparatus, watched the Krultch
sentinel move closer, stepping daintily as a deer on its four sharp hooves. The
alien had reached a point a hundred feet distant when there was a sharp
ping!
from behind Retief. The guard hailed; Retief heard the
snick!
of a power
gun's action. The Krultch turned toward him. He could hear the cli-clack,
cli-clack of the hooves now. At a distance of ten feet, the quadruped slowed,
came to a hall. Retief could see the vicious snout of the gun aimed warily into
the darkness. There was another sound from Mulvihill's position. The guard
plucked something from the belt rigged across his chest, started toward the
source of the sound. As he passed Retief, he shied suddenly, grabbed for his
communicator. Retief leaped, landed a haymaker on the bony face, caught the
microphone before it nil the pavement. The Krultch, slaggering back from the
blow, went to his haunches, struck out with knife-edged forefeet. Retief ducked
aside, chopped hard at the collarbone. The Krultch collapsed with a choked cry.
Mulvihill appeared at a run, seized the feebly moving guard, pulled off the
creature's belt, trussed his four legs together, then used other straps to bind
the hands and gag the powerful jaws as the others joined the group.

"Now what?" Wee Willie
inquired. "You gonna cut his throat?"

"Shove him back of the
monitor," Mulvihill said.

"Now let's see how close we can
get to the ship without getting spotted," Retief said.

The mighty Krultch war vessel was a
black column towering into the night, ablaze with varicolored running and
navigation lights. Giant floods mounted far up on the ship's sleek sides cast
puddles of blue-white radiance on the tarmac; from the main cabin amidships,
softer light gleamed through wide view-windows.

"All lit up like a party,"
Mulvihill growled.

"A tough party to crash,"
Wee Willie said, looking up the long slant of the hull.

"I think I see a route, Mr.
Retief," the girl said. "What's that little square opening up there,
just past the gun emplacement?"

"It looks as though it might be a
cargo hatch. It's not so little, Miss La Flamme; it's a long way up—"

"You reckon I could get through
it?"

Retief nodded, looking up at the
smooth surface above. "Can you make it up there?"

"They used to bill me as the
human ladybug. Nothing to it."

"If you get in," Retief
said, "try to find your way back down into the tube compartment. If you
can open one of these access panels, we're in."

Suzette nodded, took out her rope,
tossed a loop over a projection fifteen feet above, clambered quickly up the
landing jack to its junction with the smooth metal of the hull. She put her
hands flat against the curving, slightly inslanting wall before her, planted
one crepe-soled shoe against a tiny weld seam and started up the sheer wall.

Ten minutes passed. From the deep
shadow at the ship's stern, Retief watched as the slim girl inched her way up,
skirting a row of orange glare panels spelling out the name of the vessel in
blocky Krultch ideographs, taking advantage of a ventilator outlet for a minute's
rest, then going on up, up, thirty yards now, forty, forty-five ...

She reached the open hatch, raised her
head cautiously for a glance inside, then swiftly pulled up and disappeared
through the opening.

Julius Mulvihill heaved a sigh of
relief. "That was as tough a climb as Suzie ever made," he rumbled.

"Don't get happy yet," Wee
Willie piped up. "Her troubles is just starting."

"I'm sure she'll encounter no
difficulty," Professor Fate said anxiously. "Surely there'll be no
one on duty aft, here in port ..."

More minutes ticked past. Then there
was a rasp of metal, a gentle clatter. A few feet above ground, a panel swung
out; Suzie's face appeared, oil streaked.

"Boy, this place needs a good
scrubbing," she breathed. "Come on; they're all having a shindig up
above, sounds like."

Inside the echoing, gloomy vault of
the tube compartment, Retief studied the layout of equipment, the placement of
giant cooling baffles, the contour of the bulkheads.

"This is a Krultch-built
job," he said. "But it seems to be a pretty fair copy of an old
Concordiat cruiser of the line. That means the controls are all the way
forward."

"Let's get started!" Wee
Willie went to the wide-runged catwalk designed for goatlike Krultch feet,
started up. The others followed. Retief glanced around, reached for the ladder.
As he did, a harsh Krultch voice snapped, "Halt where you are,
Terrans!"

Retief turned slowly. A dirt-smeared
Krultch in baggy coveralls stepped from the concealment of a massive
ion-collector, a grim-looking power gun aimed. He waited as a second and third
sailor followed him, all armed.

"A nice catch, Udas," one
said admiringly in Krultch. "The captain said we'd have Terry labor to do
the dirty work on the run back, but I didn't expect to see 'em
volunteering."

"Get 'em down here together,
Jesau," the first Krultch barked. His partner came forward, motioned with
the gun.

"Retief, you savvy Fustian?"
Mulvihill muttered.

"Uh-huh," Retief answered.

"You hit the one on the left;
I'll take the bird on the right. Professor—"

"Not yet," Retief said.

"No talk!" the Krultch
barked in Terran. "Come down, plenty quick-quick!"

The Terrans descended to the deck,
stood in a loose group.

"Closer together!" the
sailor said; he poked the girl with the gun to emphasize the command. She smiled
at him sweetly. "You bat-eared son of a goat, just wait till I get a
handful of your whiskers—"

"No talk!"

Professor Fate edged in front of the
girl. He held out both hands toward the leading Krultch, flipped them over to
show both sides, then twitched his wrists, fanned two sets of playing cards. He
waved them under the astounded nose of the nearest gunman, and with a flick
they disappeared.