Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude (29 page)

"True,
there were a certain number of failures before I was able to reproduce the
precise forms needed in the Great Plan; but even those had their uses—"

"And
I've seen your matched sets of garrison troops. Not bad, except that they
didn't seem to be a great deal brighter than armies usually are—"

"As I
suspected, the true implications of their existence were lost on your limited
imagination. Soon, however—"

"I
think I got it. Manipulating Lumbagans at random is all very well, but it would
be a bit difficult to stage anything more organized than a free-for-all unless
you could elicit uniform responses. Ergo—uniform puppets."

"You've
correctly gauged the more pedestrian portions of my plot, Terran dupe! But
you've failed utterly to grasp the incredible scope of my true greatness! While
you dashed hither and thither, assembling your trifling clues, my giant
intellect has been coolly completing the final detail work. And now—tonight!—the
New Age dawns, ushered in by the successor to all previous life forms, namely
myself!"

"What
is this guy, nuts or something?" Gloot muttered. "If he's so busy,
why's he standing around making speeches?"

"He's
trying to find out how much we know," Retief said.

Swarmmaster
Ussh waved a negligent hand. "Petty minds can but ascribe petty
motives," he hissed. "What you may or may not know is a matter of
supreme indifference—and I include any fragmentary facts in the possession of
your flown accomplice, for whose absence from this cozy group certain
incompetents will suffer. In fact, I freely confide in you: Tonight, I assume
planetary rule. Tomorrow, I issue my ultimatum to the Galaxy. Next week—but
contain yourself in patience. You yourself—in chains, of course—shall serve as
my emissary to carry the terms to your former masters! As for the Untouchable,
you may retain him as your personal menial."

"I
assumed you had a reason for not shooting us immediately," Retief said.

"I do
nothing without a supremely practical motive," Ussh stated flatly.
"And now—will you go to your durance peacefully, or will it be necessary
for me to have you dragged by the heels, a most undignified progress for a
future Slave Ambassador."

"I
think a period of quiet contemplation may be just what we need at this
point," Retief said.

The dungeon
into which Retief and Gloot were conducted, cut deep into the rock beneath the
secret Groaci lab, was a damp chamber six feet by eight, without lights,
furniture, or other amenities. The narrow portal through which they had entered
was barred by a foot-thick door of solid iron. The ceiling was a seamless
surface of rough-hewn stone, as were the walls and floor.

"At least
we got a drain hole," Gloot commented after they had conducted an
examination of their prison by the light of Retief's cigar lighter. "If
worst gets to worst, I can always flush myself down the sewer; but don't worry,
pal. I'll stick around and keep you company until you starve to death before I
split—and I do mean split."

"That's
thoughtful, Gloot; but maybe it won't come to that."

"Aha!
So you have got a couple aces up your sleeve! I figured; come on, Retief: Let
me in on the scheme! How are we going to hoist these Terries—"

"Groaci."

"Whatever
you call 'em, I still don't like 'em. What dramatic stroke are we going to
bring off now, which they'll be caught by surprise with their kilts up?"

"First
we find a comfortable spot on the floor," Retief said.

"Yeah?
OK, I'm with you so far." "Then we wait."

"I'll
be frank with you, Retief: Somehow the program don't sound too promising."

"It's
all I have to offer at the moment."

"Oh."
There was a pause. "Are we, ah, waiting for anything in particular?"

"I'd be
inclined to jump at anything that comes along."

"You
must be joshing, Retief. How can anything come along to jump at, seeing that
we're locked up in an underground dungeon with only one hole in it, namely the
one the bilge runs out of?"

"That
narrows it down," Retief conceded.

"You
mean . . . ?"

"Shhh .
. .listen!"

In the utter
silence, a faint rustling sound was audible. Retief thumbed his lighter; the
pale flame cast a feeble glow across the slimy floor.

Below the
four-inch drain orifice, something stirred.

An eyeball
crept into view on spidery legs, swiveling to look around the cell before
emerging onto the floor. Behind it, an ear fluttered up the shaft, circled the
chamber, came to rest in a far corner. A hand crawled into view, paused to hold
up two fingers in a V, then turned to assist a couple of gallbladders over the
coping.

"Cripes,"
Gloot muttered as more and more Freebies swarmed into the cell. "What is
this, a convention? The place is crawling with vermin!"

"Steady,
Gloot," Retief cautioned. "When I said jump, I didn't mean
literally."

"It
figures the crumbums would stick us in a hole infested with parasites!"

"Keep
your voice down, Gloot. If our jailors suspect we have guests, they'll soon be
along to break up the party."

"Yeah—even
a bunch o' Terries—or Groaci-foreigners, anyway—ought to have the decency to
fumigate the place if we put up a howl—" Gloot broke off, his mouth
hanging open in an expression of horrified outrage. "Why, the lousy,
dirty, obscene little buggers!" he gasped. "Right out in public,
too!"

Under the
feeble beam of the lighter, the eyeball had edged close to a generously
proportioned nose which waited coyly for its advance. They touched, groped—and
melted into a close embrace. A second eye appeared from the drain, glanced
around, rushed to the conjoining couple and promptly took up a position on the
opposite side of the nose. An upper lip linked with them, as other candidates
crowded around, while more and more streamed up from the depths.

"It's—it's
a regular orgy, like I heard about but never got in on!" Gloot blurted,
and raised a large, booted foot to stamp out the objectionable spectacle;
Retief caught his ankle barely in time, dumped him on his back.

"Easy,
Gloot," he said. "It's time you faced up to the facts of life."

"Just
wait until I get my other lung in place," a breathy voice squeaked from
the direction of the congregating singletons, "and I'll give that big
hypocrite a piece of my mind! Maybe that'll raise his IQ to the moron level so
he can understand me when I tell him what I think of him!"

"I
thought maybe it was you who's been dogging my footsteps," Retief said.
"Welcome aboard, Ignarp. You couldn't have come at a better time."

"So
that's our Big Secret, Retief," Ignarp said five minutes later. He was
completely reassembled now, his component parts having settled into position
and accommodated themselves so perfectly that the lines of juncture were barely
visible. "Being able to reassemble gives us a big advantage; that's why
the rest of 'em are out to get us."

"The
reasons normal Lumbagans got no use for these degenerates," Gloot stated
with contempt, "is on account of they got no finer feelings. When they put
theirselves together thataway, they as good as admit all us Lumbagans evolved
from lower forms!"

"Ontogeny
recapitulates philogeny," Ignarp said smugly. "Everybody knows
that."

"Sure—but
decent folks don't admit it!"

"Which
brings us to the question of why you trailed me here," Retief said.

"I told
you I'd keep an eye on you—"

"Yes, I
saw it fluttering in the middle distance."

"And it
looks to me like maybe things are even worse than we thought. And you're the
only one that maybe can do something about it. Ergo—here I am. What can I do?
Get you some light reading matter? Take last messages to loved ones?"

"Better
yet, you can get us out of here."

"I
don't know, Retief," Ignarp said, eyeing Gloot, who stood at the far side
of the cell, arms folded, a sullen expression on his face. "Why should I
go to the trouble to bail this clod out of stir?"

"Because
without him, I'm afraid my plan won't work out," Retief said.

"Who
needs him?" Ignarp challenged. "All I have to do is slide back out
the way I came in—"

"I
still don't believe it," Gloot muttered. "Me—associating with this
degenerate. Having to stand here and listen to him talk about it."

"—infiltrate
the building and reassemble inside. Then, when you pound on the door and yell
and the guard comes to work you over with the rubber hoses, I jump out and nail
him."

"I got
a better idea," Gloot said. "Retief, you lend your coat to this
deviate; we set up a yell, and when the bums come running, they open the door
and see the two of you up against the wall thumbing your noses. Naturally, they
come charging in, and I jump out behind 'em and lay 'em low."

"Some
plan," Ignarp commented. "They see Retief without his coat and a
total stranger wearing it, and that's supposed to lull their suspicions?"

"OK,
then
I
borrow his coat—"

"So
they see him without a coat, and me naked—and they figure I'm you, only two
feet shorter and better looking—"

"No, I
got it: Retief borrows my coat—"

"You're
not wearing one, dummy."

"So he
keeps his coat! You get back of the door—"

"Don't
tell me what to do, tall, spotted, and grotesque!"

"You
got a nerve, short, blotchy, and depraved! I got a good mind—"

"Want
to bet? We do it my way. See you later, Retief—" "How about waiting
long enough to hear my proposal, Ignarp?"

"Well—OK.
Who wears your coat?"

"I do.
It's you two fellows who have some changes to make."

"Huh?"
Gloot said uneasily.

"What
you got in mind?" Ignarp said suspiciously.

"Something
far worse than you think," Retief said. "Tell me, Ignarp, how would
you like to see Lumbaga pacified by a dictator?"

"You
kidding? We like to fight amongst ourselves. Having all the fat in the hands of
the exploiting classes is bad enough, without some spoilsport depriving us of
our national pastime. Forget it, Retief—"

"I'd be
glad to, but I'm afraid a fellow named Ussh has a more tenacious memory. Unless
we do something to stop it, by this time tomorrow, Lumbaga will be at
peace—permanently."

"Well,
what are we hanging around here for?" Ignarp demanded. "Let's try my
plan, and—"

"All
the more reason to get going on my plan!" Gloot cut in.

"Gentlemen,"
Retief interrupted, "there comes a time in any friendly fight when it's
wise to pause and give a thought to consequences. At this moment, the
opposition is busy putting the finishing touches on a plan that's been years in
the making. The occupying armies are already on the march for the capital—and
we're sealed in a vault forty feet underground, engaged in a jurisdictional
dispute."

"Oh . .
. well " Gloot said.

"It
doesn't look good, does it?" Ignarp said soberly.

"The
proposals now before us," Retief said, "would afford a few satisfying
cracks at the heads of our captors, and might even get us as far as the end of
the hall before the inevitable end. What's required is a plan with sufficient
scope to carry us through to a successful conclusion."

"I'll
buy that," Gloot said. "But—"

"Out
with it, Retief," Ignarp said. "I've got a funny feeling I'm not
going to like this."

"Probably
not," Retief agreed. In a few brief words, he outlined his proposal.

A stunned
silence followed.

"Retief!
And I thought you were a fine, upstanding fellow—for a foreigner!" Ignarp
said weakly.

"If I
wouldn't of heard it, I wouldn't of believed it," Gloot said in a choked
voice.

"Well,
how about it, gentlemen?" Retief said. "We don't have much
time."

"You
expect me to lend countenance to a thing like that?" Ignarp protested.
"It's enough to make your eyebrows crawl!"

"What
if my friends heard about it?" Gloot muttered.

"It's
not traditional!" Ignarp complained.

"It's
against nature!"

"Mongrelization!"

"I'll
be dragged down to his level!"

"It'll
never work!"

"Couldn't
we talk about it first? For a few years, say—or maybe a century or so?"

"It's
now or never, fellows," Retief said. "After tomorrow, every Lumbagan
on the planet will be herded into a Freeby farm and integrated forcibly,
regardless of his sensitivities."