Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude (6 page)

            As
Yong had predicted, the excited locals holstered their weapons and withdrew
into huddles, all talking at once. Other Glorbs were poking their lumpy heads
from the doorways of the long buildings at the far side of the marketplace,
only to be shooed back inside by those in authority. One of the stumpy locals
confronting Yong barked at the big feline in his stacatto tongue. Yong turned
to Retief.

            "This
clown says he heard about how the Minister was assaulted when he went to pay
his respects to the damned foreigners," he translated. "Now he claims
to see why.

            "There's
something going on here, Retief," the Vang added quietly. "There are
too many armed troops here. I think they're planning something tricky, and we
stumbled into it. No wonder they're so touchy."

            "Where's
their boss?" Retief asked. Yong pointed to a small, but somewhat more
sturdily built hut at the end of the row of barracks. "That's
headquarters," he told Retief. "I don't see any rank on them bums, so
the colonel's probably in there, on the phone."

            "Suppose
we pay a courtesy call?" Retief suggested.

            "The
colonel wouldn't like that a bit," Yong replied. "Let's go."

            As
Retief, Yong at his side, approached the pivoting panel serving as entry to the
small blockhouse, it rotated abruptly, and a small, rather furtive individual,
wrapped in a dowdy black ankle-length cloak with umbrella-like ribs, darted
through the narrow opening and halted abruptly, confronted by the tall Terran
and his cat-like companion.

            Retief
sniffed, then said in Groaci, "To be surprised to find
you
here,
litter-mate of drones."

            "To
have no idea what you're saying," the stranger replied breathlessly in the
same language. "Did you call me a litter-mate of drones?"

            "I
could have," Retief acknowledged, in Terran. "But we don't understand
Groaci Court Dialect, remember?"

            "Outrageous!"
the small newcomer hissed and started past Yong, who snorted and pinned the fellow
flat on his back with a casual swipe of one mighty forepaw. "Smells
worse'n a Terry," the big cat commented. "No offense."

            "I
think you're a little outside your territory, Col. Shinth," Retief pointed
out to the struggling captive. "And if you're trying to operate under
cover, you'd better lay off those licorice-flavored dope-sticks. Outside of a
few degenerates in the Customs and Excise Service, you're the only Groaci I
know who smokes them. Dead giveaway."

            "Drat
your confounded nosy habits!" Shinth hissed as Yong removed his forepaw
from the alien's narrow chest. The Groaci hopped up at once, wrapped himself in
his tattered cloak and punctured dignity, and turned away. Retief halted him
with one outstretched arm. Yong watched incuriously.

            "Before
you go," Retief said to Shinth, "Let's have a little chat about
what's going on here."

            Shinth
responded by attempting to duck, but was promptly knocked down by Yong, who
stood over the frail-looking alien, baring his teeth.

            "I'd
hate to have to bite you, chum," the constable said mildly. "You'd
probably poison me. But if my pal Retief wants to talk to you, you'll have to
stick around." He turned to Retief. "You know this little bug?"
he asked, yawning.

            "He
used to be the Groaci Military Attache at Boneyard V," Retief replied.

            Shinth
hissed and sputtered, twining and untwining his five stemmed eyes with dizzying
effect. Yong stepped back and Retief lifted the outraged Groaci to his feet,
handed him back his dope-stick.

            "Why
the concentration of Glorb troops, here in this backwoods market?" Retief
asked the Groaci. "And what are
you
doing here, conferring with the
high command? Hardly the place for a peace-loving Groaci diplomat." As the
spindly alien remained silent except for continued muttering, Retief gave him a
slight shake, dislodging several of his jeweled top-three-grade eye-shields.
"Come on Shinth, give," Retief urged.

            "Retief?"
the Groaci burst out. "Surely you, as a fellow diplomat, can't expect me
to divulge information prejudicial to the security of the Groacian state?"
Hastily, Shinth retrieved and adjusted his eye-shields. "Outrageous!"
he commented. "Unhand me at once, Retief; you are aware of course that
this assault will be the object of an Official Inquiry! I daresay even your
truculent Terry AE and
MP
will
see to it your already glacial advance in rank will be severely
curtailed!"

            "The
security of Groac, eh?" Retief queried. "You must be up to something
bigger than usual. What is it, Shinth? Cooking up a spontaneous demonstration
against Terran interference in Glorbian internal affairs?"

            "Nothing
so banal," Shinth replied cooly, as if he were now on secure ground.
"Step aside now, there's a good fellow, and perhaps I shall find it in my
vascular pump to forget this affair."

            "You
say that if anyone knew what you're doing here, it would threaten the Security
of Groac, eh?" Retief inquired rhetorically.

            "Nothing
of the sort!" the colonel objected, speaking perfect Terran now. "I
was merely out for a stroll, noticed the charming town here, and dropped in to
cement relations at the grass-roots level."

            "This
spot is surrounded by Big Black Bog on three and a half sides," Yong
commented. "The only trail in is the one we took. Troops had to be
airlifted in. Maybe we better go inside and ask General Mub personal what's
cooking."

            "What?"
Colonel Shinth spoke up in a shocked tone. "Burst in on the General in the
midst of his logistical planning? You wouldn't dare!"

            "That
did it," Yong commented, brushing the excited Groaci aside. Without
hesitating, he slid sinuously through the half-open door. At once, hoarse Glorb
voices could be heard raised in expostulation; then the doorway disgorged a
grayish-skinned Glorb trooper who rolled to a stop at Retief's feet.

            "Help!"
the excited soldier yelled as Retief put a foot on his face to hold him in
place.

            "Stay
a while," Retief suggested gently. "I'm here to get the details on
General Mub's plans."

            "Oh,
you're one of those alien advisors, Groacs, or whatever. We had word one of you
nosy Parkers was dropping in. Trooper Blub reporting sir." The stubby
Glorb attempted a snappy salute from the suppine position.

            "It
is precisely / who am the nosy Parker," Shinth interrupted excitedly,
pushing between Retief and the Glorb, whom the Terran had permitted to rise.

            "Now,
Trooper Blub," Shinth went on, "you may conduct me to the presence of
the General."

            "Fruits
and nuts," Blub replied in a disrespectful tone. "You don't look
nothing like a Groaci, like this gent here." Blub eased closer to indicate
his correct alignment, foreign big-shot wise.

            "You
would confer the mantle of Groacihood on this notorious mere Terran?" the
outraged attache hissed in a tone sufficiently high-pitched to fetch a small
burrowing creature from its nearby den to investigate. Shinth kicked a lump of
dirt at the inquisitive creature, sending it scurrying for its hole.

            "Hey,
fella," the trooper objected, "don't go kicking no clods at the
General's pet dirt-frog!" He hurried over to lean close and make
comforting sounds. Looking up at Retief, he explained: "When Tootsie here
gets in a bad mood, the old boy goes into a towering tizzy his own self."

            "A
tizzy which, however, diminishes to insignificance by comparison with that
occasioned by the absence of his orderly when the old devil needs a refill in
his humidor!" An enraged Glorb voice roared from the doorway.

            "Oh,
General, sir!" Blub cried in a delighted tone as he scrambled to his feet
and hastily dusted at the mud and grass stains on his pinkish-gray uniform.
"Just communing with dear little Tootsie a minute was all," he
alibied lamely. "Feller likes to be sure the little darlin is cosy and
all."

            "You'd
be well advised, Trooper Last Class Blub," the General pointed out,
"to concern yourself first with the cosiness of your immediate supervisor,
Corps commander, and immeasurable superior in the person of myself!"

            "Say,"
Yong commented to Retief admiringly. "He sounds like one of the
Ambassadore's like I heard sounding off back at the port."

            "He
has the gift of ego," Retief agreed. "He could go far in the
Corps."

            "This
here," a not noticeably chastened Blub said eagerly as he hurried forward
to reestablish his usefulness as liaison between the General and reality,
"is that Groaci advisor, Mr., ... ah, what was that name again, sir?"

            "Retief!"
Shinth yelled in his feeble voice.

            "Grab
him!" General Mub snapped, pointing at the excited Groaci. "I've been
tipped," he added, "that an alien of that name might well attempt
mischief here. General Hish himself rang up only a moment ago to let me know
the fellow had been sighted at the port by an alert field-man named Thif."

            "You're
making a serious blunder, you incompetent blimp!" Shinth yelled over
Blub's shoulder as the latter slipped the cuffs on him.

            "
'Incompetent blimp'," the General repeated. "Make a note of that,
Blub. Where did the noisy little freak come from, anyways?"

            "Beats
me, General sir," Blub admitted. "He come up and started trying to
make trouble just when I was about to announce this Groaci VIP here." The
trooper proudly indicated his protégé, Retief.

            "Must
be one of those Terry miscreants Hish told me about," the General deduced.
"Hish said they harbored a vicious prejudice against selfless Groacian
bureaucrats, as he so eloquently put it. Better lock him up in Number Three,"
the General concluded briskly, then turned to Retief. "And now, sir,
perhaps we can get down to matters of substance." He motioned Retief,
accompanied by Yong, ahead, into the dimly lit interior of the headquarter
hutment, where half a dozen lumpy Glorb officers, with their colorful rank
badges, sat huddled around a knee-high table on which were laid out charts of
increasing scale, the final one a close-up photo-montage of the patch of desert
allocated to the alien vessels, and the amphitheatre soon to be the scene of
the Pan-Galactic Pageant. Retief leaned over it to study closely the fine
photographic detail.

            "Units
all in place just hull-down," the General pointed out complacently,
"all in accordance with regs, right down to the prepared press dispatches:
Terry Bandits Raid Galactic Glamor Get-together!"

            "We're
getting close to M-minute," Retief hazarded. "All set to jump off on
signal?"

            "Sure,"
General Mub confirmed. "Now that the Whonk entry has arrived, we've got a
full bag. My boys are raring to go. The smoke bomb's ready and waiting for the
word."

            "And
what is the word?" Retief asked casually.

            "
'Y'Yivshish'," the General supplied promptly. "Right? Am I on my
carpals, or what?"

            "I
see the Groaci advisor was so gracious as to provide the term," Retief
commented, "along with the rest of the scheme."

            "Right,
Lord ... uh ... what was that handle again, Your Lordship?" Mub inquired
obsequiously.

            "Shhh,"
Retief cautioned. "You might have a security leak here, you know,
General."

            "In
that case, he's in trouble," Yong commented to Retief in a hoarse whisper.
"Looks like the infernal Glorbs are up to their cauliflower ears in
something that could get the whole planet in hot water." He mosied over to
study the charts, casually dislodging a Glorb three-pipper, who complained
loudly in his own dialect, then switched to Groaci, which he spoke with a
barbaric accent:

            "To
have tooken my last insult from an uncouth Vang flatfoot!" he screeched.
"You just wait a couple days, chum, and you and your whole barbaric tribe
will be sitting behind wire looking out at the glorious triumph of Glorb
destiny!"

            "Would
you like to go into a little detail, Colonel Crudbum?" Yong suggested as
he pinned the noisy officer with one mighty paw, while yawning cavernously.

            "It's
all but accomplished!" the prostrate Glorb yelled. "And you'll be
awful sorry you mishandled a field-grade officer of Great Glorb!"

            "This
don't look good, pal," Yong commented to Retief. "This sucker is too
fiesty by half." He gave the struggling colonel a dismissing shove and
watched closely as the fellow got to his feet.

            "The
Glorb have always been small-timers," the big cat pointed out. "This
time they're pulling something outa their league. Must be they got some big
ideas from you Groaci." He winked, giving his usually good-natured face a
sinister cast which, Retief reflected, boded little good for any who might
attempt to betray the Vang.