Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude (18 page)

"We
are! That is to say, you are! I mean to say, of course, having gotten wind of
the perfidious schemes laid by you treacherous Soft Ones under the cynical
guise of pretended participation in bogus peace talks, we Groaci have naturally
been compelled to take appropriate steps to safeguard the endangered lives,
property, and sacred self-determination of the indigenous autochthones."

"Remarkable,"
Retief said. "And I suppose that to properly protect the Lumbagans, it
will be necessary for Groac to temporarily garrison a few troops here. And
perhaps to take over a certain number of islands for official use. And possibly
to requisition a modest percentage of the planetary production and manpower for
the fight against foreign exploitation. And a reasonable tax levy to support a
portion of the expense of this selfless action is to be expected."

"I see
you have a grasp of the realities of interplanetary do-goodism," Shlush
acknowledged. "Now, as beings of the world, why not just give me a brief
rundown on your own development plans? Don't bother going into detail; I have
specialists on my staff who'll assist you later in dredging up the odd
unremembered trifle from the depths of the subconscious. For now, just limit
your exposition to the high points."

"You're
too shrewd for me, Hivemaster," Retief conceded. "Did you think up
this scheme yourself?"

"Ah-ah,"
Shlush chided his prisoner. "No prying, Retief. Not that it matters, of
course, inasmuch as you'll soon be occupying a shallow excavation under the
dungeon floor—but it's bad form tipping one's opponents off to the details of
one's operations, particularly as I have no time to waste. Now—"

"On a
tight schedule, eh? Tell me, Hivemaster, is Ambassador Jith in on the
plan?"

"Jith
is a dependable civil servant of considerable seniority," Shlush said smoothly.
"It was deemed unwise to burden him with excessive detail regarding
operations outside the sphere of his immediate concerns."

"Just
who is your boss in this operation, Shlush?"

"Ah-ah—mustn't
pry, Retief." The Groaci wagged an admonitory digit at the Terran.
"Suffice it to say he's a most unusual chap, a virtual super-Groaci of
most uncompromising kidney, not the sort, as he himself declares, to stand idly
by while Groac is cheated of her Lumbagan patrimony! You'll meet him soon
enough."

"Let me
see," Retief mused aloud. "As I recall, it was a Terry tramp captain
who first put Lumbaga on the star maps. He stayed long enough to peddle a few
gross of glass beads and take on a cargo of salted glimp eggs; oddly enough,
his report made no mention of the natives' warlike tendencies."

"Doubtless
he fortuitously happened along between massacres," Shlush said tersely.
"But—"

"The
next time Lumbaga cropped up in an official dispatch, ten years later, was on
the occasion of a run-in between a Terry survey crew and a Groaci gunboat. It
appears your people were well-established here by then."

"Yes,
yes—and naturally enough, they took appropriate action to discourage
unauthorized tourism. Now—"

"Shooting
up an unarmed survey craft was the wrong way to go about it, I'm afraid,"
Retief said philosophically. "Our sociological teams couldn't pass up a
challenge like that. They came swarming in—with suitable escorts of Peace
Enforcers, of course—to ferret out the unhappy incidents in the collective
Groaci childhood that were responsible for your aggressions, and—"

"I well
recall the incident; an unexampled instance of Groaci restraint in the face of
Terran provocation—"

"—and
found a planetwide riot in progress," Retief continued. "They also
turned up the fact that your boys were running a rather dubious traffic in
hearts, lungs, and other negotiable commodities—"

"Specimens
destined for Groaci zoos," Shlush snapped. "Our Groacian interest in
exotic wildlife is well-known—"

"—which
raised certain questions among the coarse-minded. There was even a theory afoot
that you were disassembling the natives, shipping them out as Freebies, and
putting them back together for use in the sand mines."

"A
baseless allegation! Besides which, the practice was at once discontinued out
of deference to the prejudices of the unenlightened."

"A
far-sighted move, in view of the number of guns lined up on you at the time.
The Interplanetary Tribunal for the Curtailment of Hostilities moved in then,
and war has raged ever since."

"I am
not in need of a toenail sketch of recent Lumbagan history!" Shlush
hissed. "The manifold iniquities of the CDT are well-known to me!"
The excited hivemaster broke off as the door opened abruptly.

"To
forgive this intrusion, Exalted One," the underling who had gone to fetch
brandy hissed. "But—"

"To
better have an explanation of surpassing eloquence," Shlush screeched,
"or to dangle inverted from a torture frame ere tiffin time!"

"The
best, Excellency," the unfortunate fellow whispered, advancing into the
room, closely followed by a hulking Lumbagan with a single eye, three legs, an
immense grin, and a large, primitive needle gun in his fist.

"To
shoot him down!" Shlush hissed in his native tongue to Wilth, who stood
frozen against the wall.

"To . .
. to . . . have apparently forgotten to load my piece," the latter
whispered, and let the impotent weapon fall with a clatter.

"Which
one of you aliens is the head Groaci around here?" the newcomer demanded.

Wilth's
eyestalks tilted toward his chief. The latter scronched back in his chair,
eyeing the aimed pistol. "Ah—why do you ask?" he inquired cautiously.

"On
account of there's a big shot that wants to see him," the Lumbagan stated,
studying the four foreigners in turn.

"Better
hurry; I don't know what assorted innards are bringing in the open market, but
it will be less if they're full of steel splinters."

"Merely
a, er, social call, I assume?" Shlush said hopefully.

"Assume
whatever you like—only snap it up. The big boy don't like to be kept
waiting." The caller glanced at the Dale Evans watch strapped to his lower
left wrist. "Anyway, I change sides in half an hour, and I don't like
unfinished business hanging over me."

"Well,
I suppose one must observe the amenities," Shlush said with a certain lack
of conviction, rising slowly.

"It's
all right, Shlush," Retief spoke up. "It's noble of you to cover for
me, but we can't fool this fellow. I'll go quietly."

"Ha!
Trying to pull a fast one, hah?" The Lumbagan pointed the gun at the
hivemaster's head and squinted his lone eye along the barrel. "I've got a
good mind to plug you for that. But to heck with it. I got to make my own loads
for this popper, so why waste one?" He motioned with the bulky weapon at
Retief.

"Let's
go, big boy." He paused. "Hey, you aliens all look alike to me, but
it seems like you got a little different look to you, somehow." He studied
Retief, comparing him with Wilth and Shlush with quick side-glances.

"Two
legs," he muttered. "One torso, one head—ah! Got it!
They
got
five eyes each, and
you
only got two, kind of sunk-in ones. How
come?"

"Birth
defect," Retief said.

"Oh,
excuse me all to heck, pal. No offense. OK, pick 'em up. We got a brisk walk
ahead, and the streets are full of footpads."

Two of
Lumbaga's small pink moons were in the sky when Retief and his captor, after
traversing a passage hollowed in the thick walls of the pile housing secret
Groaci Headquarters, emerged into the street.

"This
seems to be my night for meeting the local civic leaders," Retief
commented as they turned west, toward the waterfront. "Who is it you're
taking me to?"

"You'll
find out," his guide said shortly, swiveling his asymetrical head from
side to side so as to bring his single eye to bear first on one side of the
route ahead, then the other. "If anybody jumps us, it's every guy for
hisself," he notified the Terran.

"You
expecting to be attacked?" Retief inquired easily.

The alien
nodded. "Naturally," he said glumly. "Why should tonight be any
different than any other time?"

"I
understand street battles are the Lumbagan national pastime," Retief
commented. "You sound a little unenthusiastic."

"Oh, a
little rumble now and then, a friendly fight in a bar, a neighborly clash in
the alley, sure. I'm as normal as the next guy. But the pace is getting me
down. Frankly, Mr.—what was that handle again?"

"Retief."

"I'm
Gloot. Like I was saying, Retief, between you and me I'd as lief take a break—a
long break—from the fray. I got enough lumps to last me, you know? And there's
plenty others feel the same."

"Then
why do you go on squabbling?"

"That's
kind of hard to explain, to a foreigner. I'm just sashaying along, minding my
own business, and all of a sudden—zop! The old fighting frenzy hits me, you
know what I mean?"

"I'm
striving to grasp it," Retief said. "By the way, does that gun
work?"

Gloot looked
at the heavy pistol. "Sure. Don't worry, the first guy that jumps us will
be out shopping in the morning for a new navel and a few other
accessories." He shook his head mournfully. "Unfortunately, I can't
say the same for the second guy."

"Single
shot, eh? How's your aim?"

"Well,
I ain't bragging, but I usually hit what I shoot at."

"Five
xots you can't hit that sign," Retief challenged, pointing to a board
swinging in the wind ahead.

"You
kidding? I could drill it dead center with one eye closed—at least I could up
to last week when I misplaced my best eye."

"Phooey.
I heard you Lumbagans couldn't shoot your way out of a greenhouse."

"Oh,
yeah?" Gloot brought the gun up, took his stance, squeezed. ...

The
Boom!
echoed along the canyonlike street like a bomb burst. As the reverberations
faded, a voice somewhere ahead shouted an angry inquiry; a door slammed. Feet
clattered, approaching from both directions.

"Now
look what you made me go and do!" Gloot wailed. "Come on, let's get
out of here!" He turned and galloped back the way they had come, ducked
down an intersecting alley as a party of mismatched vigilantes in red cloaks surged
into view around a turn.

"There
they go!" a hoarse voice yelled. "Get the disturbance-creating
rascals!"

Retief
followed the sprinting Lumbagan along the noisome way, skidded to a stop as the
other's dark bulk loomed ahead.

"Up
there!" Gloot croaked. "Make it quick!"

Retief found
the rungs of a ladder mounting the rough masonry wall; he went up it swiftly,
negotiated an overhanging cornice, pulled himself up on a slanted roof of
curled tiles. A moment later Gloot scrambled up beside him. Seconds later,
their pursuers blundered past below in full cry.

"Wow,
that was close," Gloot breathed as silence descended again. "Those
boys are the City Guard. They don't mess around."

"Permanent
cadre?" Retief asked.

"Right.
Eight on, eight off. Of course, most of 'em got off-duty jobs with the major
mobs; but when shift time arrives they fall in for duty, even if the mob
happens to be in the middle of a shoot-out with the guard at the time."

"That
could be a trifle confusing."

"Yeah,
but they got ground rules. When the whistle blows, there's a five-minute
time-out while the cops and robbers change sides."

"A
civilized system," Retief conceded.

"I
guess the coast is clear—but—" Gloot looked at his watch and uttered a coarse
expletive. "Now looky what you made me do, Retief! I've run over
shift-end! And I would of scored a nice bonus if I would of brought you in in
one major piece!"

"You
could explain you were unavoidably detained—" "What—and hand a
negotiable piece of merchandise like you over to the bums I used to be teamed
up with? Besides, if they saw me now they'd set on me in a trice!"

"Don't
your former associates change sides at the same time you do?"

"Sure—but
they go their way, I go mine. I got to agree, it's enough to confuse a
foreigner. Heck, even I get mixed up sometimes." Gloot sighed as he
crawled up the sloping roof to scan the view beyond. "Seems like things
are getting kind of out of hand," he said sadly. "A fellow can't
hardly keep track of his own affiliations these days."

"What
about us aliens?" Retief asked. "How do we fit into the hostility
pattern?"

"You
don't. My grabbing you was strictly business. Now that I've changed sides, all
bets are off. It was nice meeting you, Retief. Frankly, I'd heard you Groaci
were kind of creepy little characters, but you seem like a pretty good sport.
Well, cheers. I've got to try to make it down to the port now without getting
my sweetbreads scrambled. Timeout's almost over, and I'll be fair game."