Retief at Large (27 page)
"Since
higher organisms such as myself employ no vascular fluids, I am under no such
restraint," the captain pointed out. "However, I agree it would be
less than couth to fail to observe the forms. Accordingly, I shall refer the
matter to my chief." He murmured a word to a soldier, who slung his weapon
and hurried away. The captain sauntered off, humming a gay little tune to
himself.
"Verdigris
was supposed to be the best-kept secret of the year," Pennyfool muttered
brokenly to Magnan. "Who would have dreamed the Groaci would be here ahead
of us?"
"They
couldn't have found it by accident," the Information Agency man said
glumly. "Coincidences like that don't happen."
"You're
right, Crouchwell," Pennyfool said, staring around at his staff.
"Gentlemen—somebody leaked!"
"Well,
gracious, don't look at me, sir," Magnan said, an indignant expression
pinching his narrow features. " 7 hardly breathed a word, except to a few
highly respected colleagues."
"Colleagues?"
Pennyfool raised a pale eyebrow.
"Fellow
diplomats; high-type chaps like Ambassador P'Yim-Yim of Yill and Slunk the
Fustian Minister, and ... and ..."
"And?"
Pennyfool prompted.
"And
Consul-General Shilth," Magnan finished weakly.
"Planetary
Director Shilth, if you don't mind," a voice susurrated from the doorway.
There
was a stir among the troops ringing in the Terrans. A tall Groaci in an
elaborately ribbed hipcloak strolled forward, waved jauntily at Magnan, nodded
to Pennyfool.
"Well,
gentlemen, good of you to pay a courtesy call," he said smoothly.
"Consul-General
Shilth," Magnan said in a hurt tone. "I never dreamed you'd be so
uncouth as to betray a confidence."
Shilth
frowned, an expression he achieved by crossing two pairs of eyes.
"No?" he said in a surprised tone. "Why not?" He vibrated
his throat sac in a manner analogous to throat-clearing. "By the way,
Pennyfool, just what was it you expected to find here?" His whisper was
elaborately casual.
"You're
standing in the center of a treasure house," Pennyfool said sourly,
"and you have the confounded gall to ask me that?"
"My
chaps have devoted the better part of the past ten hours to fruitless
scrabbling in these ruins," Shilth hissed. "They've turned up nothing
of the remotest utility."
"You've
allowed your troops to dig here at random?" Pennyfool yelped.
"Aha!"
Shilth wagged an accusatory tentacle. "In spite of your subtle
dissembling, your reaction proves that treasures do indeed lie beneath this
wilderness." His tone became crisp. "Kindly specify precisely what it
is we're looking for, and I might—
might
mind you—find a way to reduce
your port fees."
"You
... you assassin!" Pennyfool yelled. "You have no right to so much as
set foot on this hallowed ground!"
"Still—I
am here," Shilth said blandly. "And I see nothing in these
rubble-heaps to excite CDT interest."
He
stirred a heap of potsherds, bottle caps and broken phonograph records with a
horny foot. "Ergo, there must be a subtler prize awaiting the lucky
finder."
"Shilth,
you Vandal!" Pennyfool yelped. "Have you no reverence for
anything?"
"Try
me with gold," the Groaci said succinctly.
"You're
out of your mind, you Philistine! I've told you I don't have any cash on
hand!"
"You
refuse to speak?" Shilth turned to the captain. "Thish, I tire of the
Soft One's lies and his insults. Take him out and execute him." Pennyfool
squealed as the guards laid hold of him.
"Execute
him?" Magnan bleated. "Couldn't you just strike him off the invitation
list for cocktail parties or something?"
"If
it's gold you're interested in," Retief suggested, "I'm sure CDT
Sector HQ will come through with a tidy sum in return for Mr. Pennyfool's hide,
unbroken."
"Splendid
notion," a member from the Commercial Section piped up. "I'm sure the
ransom money—that is to say, the port fees—will be forthcoming the minute they
see us all back to Sector HQ."
"Indeed?"
Shilth said in a bored tone. "And if I allowed you to depart, what surety
would I then have that the just indemnities will be paid?"
"You
have the word of a diplomat," Magnan said promptly.
"I
admire your coolness, Magnan," Shilth said with a little bow,
"essaying jests at such a moment."
"I
suppose I might consent to go alone," Pennyfool said, blinking his eyes
rapidly. "Although of course I'd prefer to stay on as hostage myself, my
rank will undoubtedly be helpful in expediting payment."
"One
may go," Shilth said in a chilling whisper. "That one." He
pointed at Retief. Thish stepped forward, pointing his over-decorated hand-gun
at the victim.
"Watch
him closely, Captain," Shilth admonished. "He has a reputation as a
trouble-maker. As well have him off our hands."
As
Thish, close beside Retief, waved the gun toward the entrance, Retief, with a
swift motion, swept the weapon from the other's grip, took a step, caught
Shilth by the neck and backed against the wall, the muzzle of the pistol
pressed against the hostage's ventral carapace.
"Tell
your boys to stand fast," he said in a conversational tone as the Groaci
official writhed and kicked futily, while the soldiers looked on as if
paralyzed. "Mr. Pennyfool, if you're ready to board ship, I don't think
Planetary Director Shilth will voice any objection."
"My
soldiers will shoot you down like nesting nid-fowls!" Shilth hissed.
"In
which case I'd be forced to pump your thorax full of soft-nosed slugs,"
Retief said. "I've heard they penetrate the exo-skeleton and then just
ricochet around inside until they lose momentum. Be interesting to find out if
it's true."
"I
remind you, Pennyfool," Shilth cocked his oculars at the Terran, who had
not moved, "my lads' scatter-guns are highly disruptive to flimsy
organisms such as yourselves. Disarm your misguided colleague, and spare the
CDT the expense of a mass funeral, no less costly for lack of any identifiable
remains!"
"Better
get moving, sir, before some bright lad gets ideas," Retief suggested.
"They
... we ... I ..." Pennyfool gasped.
"By
no means," Retief said soothingly.' They hold Shilth in far too high
esteem to see him converted into a boiled pudding in the half shell."
Cautiously,
the Terrans sidled toward the door. Pennyfool went through in a scrambling
leap, followed closely by his associates.
"Retief,"
Magnan, at the rear of the party said "How are
you
going to
get clear? If one of them gets behind you—"
"Better
get aboard, Mr. Magnan," Retief cut in "I have an idea Mr. Pennyfool
won't dawdle around waiting for stragglers."
"But—but—"
"Captain
Thish, perhaps you'd be kind enough to act as escort," Retief said.
"Just in case any of the boys on the outside leap to conclusions."
"To
comply," Shilth whispered in Groaci as the officer hesitated. "Later,
to visit this miscreant's crimes upon him in a fashion devised at leisure. Our
leisure, that is."
Magnan
made a gobbling sound and disappeared, Thish at his heels. Shilth had stopped
struggling. The Groaci soldiery stood in attitudes of alert paralysis, watching
for an opening.
It
was ten minutes before the sound of the Corps vessel's drive rumbled briefly,
faded, and was gone.
"And
now?" Shilth inquired, 'if you contemplate a contest of endurance, I
remind you that we Groaci can carry on for upward of ten standard days without
so much as nictating a membrane.
"Send
them outside," Retief said.
Shilth
remonstrated, but complied. A moment later, a shrill but unmistakably human
yelp sounded from beyond the door. Magnan appeared in the entry, his arms
gripped by a pair of Groaci while a third held a scatter gun to his head.
"They
... they didn't wait," the diplomat wailed.
"Release
me!" Shilth hissed. "Or would you prefer to wait until after my lads
have blown your superior's head off?"
"Sounds
like an even trade," Retief said. Magnan gasped and swallowed.
"Much
as I should dislike to see the Planetary Director's internal arrangements
hashed in the manner you so vividly describe," Thish said from behind
Magnan, "I assure you I would make the sacrifice in the interest of the
Groaci national honor."
"In
the interest of his next promotion, he means," Shilth hissed. "What
does he care if I'm diced in the process?"
Retief
thrust Shilth away, tossed the gun on the floor. "If I didn't know you
wanted both of us alive, I'd have called your bluff, Thish," he said.
"Oh?
And do I want you alive, Soft One?" Thish took aim with a borrowed rifle.
"Of
course you do, litter-mate of genetic inferiors!" Shilth snapped,
massaging the point of his back where the gun muzzle had dug in. "At least
until they divulge the secret of what they sought here!" He turned to
Retief. "And now let us to business, eh?"
Retief
plucked a cigar from his breast pocket, puffed it alight, blew scented smoke
past the alien's olfactory orifices, which cinched up tight at the aroma of
Virginia leaf.
"Certainly,
Shilth. Who's for sale now?"
"You
are, my dear Terry," the Groaci said ominously. "The price of your
life is a complete description of the nature and location of the riches hidden
here."
Retief
waved the stogie at the blotched walls, the dirt-drifted corners, the broken
tilework. "You are looking at them."
"Ah,
so we are to have the pleasure of assisting you in developing a more
cooperative attitude, eh? Capital. Easy babblers are such bores."
"You
wouldn't dare torture us," Magnan said in squeaky tone. "Our
colleagues know where we are. If we aren't returned unharmed, they'll extract a
terrible vengeance!"
"A
sharp note to the Ambassador, no doubt," Shilth said, with an amused snap
of the mandibles. "Still, there are subtler methods of persuasion than
living dismemberment. Now, we Groaci are quite at home in enclosed spaces; but
you Terries, it is rumored, are claustrophobes, an allegation I've often
yearned to test. And I know just the setting in which to conduct the experiment."
He gestured to Thish, who urged the two Terrans at gun point along a wide
passage to a metal door. Two soldiers came forward to wrestle the heavy panel
aside, exposing a tiny chamber no more than six feet on a side, windowless,
unfurnished.
