Retief at Large (49 page)

            "You
see?" Herby said a trifle breathlessly into the echoing silence. "Two's
company but a crowd is altogether too much."

            Retief
twisted the knob of the radio slung at his belt.

            "...
pinpointed our quarry!" Slith's breath voice was keening. "If you
will employ your units in encircling the south shore of the island, General, I
shall close the pincer to the north."

            "Looks
like they've spotted us," Retief said. "Slith must carry better
optical and IR gear than I gave him credit for."

            Sunlight
winked on distant craft circling back to spread out on the far side of the
lake, sinking down out of sight behind the massed foliage of the forest. Other
vessels were visible to left and right.

            "Not
much point in running cross-country," Retief said thoughtfully.
"They've got us surrounded."

            "What
are we going to do?" Magnan yelped. "We can't just stand here."

            "Ouch!"
Herby said suddenly. "Ooh! Ann!"

            "What's
the matter?" Magnan leaped in alarm, staring around him.

            "Why
that hurts like anything!" Herby exclaimed indignantly.

            "It's
the landing blasts." Retief indicated the smoke rising from points all
around the compass.' The Groaci still use old-style reaction motors for
atmospheric maneuvering. Must be scorching Herby quite painfully."

            "You
see what sort of uncouth ruffians they are?" Magnan said indignantly.
"Now wouldn't you like to change your mind, Herby, and assist us?"

            "And
collect a new crop of third-degree burns when your friends arrive? No, thank
you. It's out of the question."

            A
deep-toned whickering sound had started up, grew quickly louder.

            "A
heli," Retief said. "They're not wasting any time."

            In
the shelter of the tree the two Terrans watched the approach of the small,
speedy craft. It swung out over the lake, riffling the water, and hovered two
hundred feet in the air.

            "Attention,
Terran spies!" an electronically amplified voice boomed out from it. "Surrender
at once or suffer a fate unspeakable—"

            "Herby—if
those barbarians get their hands on us our usefulness as conversationalists
will come to an abrupt end," Magnan said urgently.

            "You
have been warned," the PA blared. "Emerge at once
empty-handed!—"

            "Maybe
we can hide out in this dense growth," Magnan said, "if Herby will
keep us apprised of their whereabouts. Maybe we can elude capture until help
comes."

            The
copter had drifted closer.

            "Thirty
seconds," the big voice boomed. "If at the end of that time you have
not submitted to Groaci justice the entire island will be engulfed in
fire—"

            "Cook
us alive?" Magnan gasped. "They wouldn't—"

            "Retief—Mister,"
Herby said worriedly. "Did he mean what he seemed to mean?"

            "I'm
afraid so, Herby," Retief said. "But don't worry. We won't let
matters proceed that far. Shall we go, Mr. Magnan?"

            Magnan
swallowed with difficulty. "I suppose a comfortable garroting in a
civilized cell is preferable to broiling alive," he said in a choked voice
as they walked out from the shade into the bright orange sunlight of the beach.

            "A
wise decision, Soft Ones," Slith whispered. "In return for your
cooperation I give my reassurances that your remains will be transmitted to
your loved ones suitably packaged, with a friendly note explaining that you
fell foul of the alert Groacian anti-spy apparatus and were dispatched ere my
personal intervention could save you from the just retribution your crimes
deserved."

            "Why,
that's very thoughtful of you, I'm sure, Grand Commander," Magnan said,
mustering a ghastly smile. "But might I suggest just one little change?
Why not intervene just a bit sooner and return us safe and sound—a stirring
gesture of inter-being amity."

            "My
researches into the Terran nature," Slith interrupted, steepling his
eyes—an effect which failed to reassure his listeners—"indicate that your
kith respond most generously to those who adhere to a policy of unswerving
hostility. This evidence of Groaci determination will evoke, I doubt not, a
sizable increase in the Terran subsidy to the Keep Groac Gray drive—funds which
will of course be quietly diverted to our urgently needed naval modernization
program."

            "But
why?" Magnan clanked his chains disconsolately. "Why can't we all
just be friends?"

            "Alas,"
Slith said. "Aside from the fact that we Groaci find you Soft Ones
singularly repellent to all nine senses, rendering social intercourse awkward—
and the further fact that Terran ambitions conflict with manifest Groaci
destiny—plus the fact that I owe you suitable recompense for your malicious
sabotage of my mercantile efforts at Haunch Two—aside from these matters, I
say—it's necessary at this juncture to silence you."

            "Silence
us?" Magnan said. "Why, heavens, Commander Slith—if you're referring
to the little misunderstanding that led to our unscheduled landing here on
Yudore, don't give it a thought. Why, I've already forgotten it. Actually, it
was probably just pilot error on the part of my colleague, Mr. Retief—"

            "He's
not talking about that, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "He's talking about
his use of Yudore as a red herring to cover an attack on the Slox Empire."

            "Silence,
verbose one," Slith said; but Okkyokk, whose image on the conference
screen had been quietly occupying a complicated perch in the background, spoke
up.

            "Who
this? My fascinate! Gosh! Tell more!"

            "Fool."
Slith leaped to his feet, vibrating his throat sac at Retief. "Your
groundless insinuations deprive you of life's last sweet moments." He
signaled the guards. "On with the executions."

            "Not
so hurry, Five-eyes!" Okkyokk snarled. "Conversation me, Terry; my
interest, oh, yes! Tell on!"

            "Keep
out of this, Okkyokk!" Slith snapped as the guards started forward eagerly.

            "My
listen!" Okkyokk yelled. "Your forgot, Slith—I guns train on you! My
chat there Terry—blow your in fragmentation, or!"

            "Better
humor him, Slith," Retief said. "Inasmuch as your fleet consists of
disguised barges with dummy guns, you're in no position to call his
bluff."

            Slith
made spluttering sounds.

            "No
gun?" Okkyokk chortled. "Good new tonight! Tell Terry!"

            "It's
quite simple," Retief said. "Slith lured you out here to get your
gunboats out of the way so he could proceed to attack the Slox home planets
with minimal interference. The bombardment is probably underway right
now."

            "Lies!"
Slith found his frail voice. "Okkyokk—he seeks to set us at odds, each
with the other!"

            "I
grateful you extreme, Terry!" the Slox commander grated in a voice like a
steel girder shearing, ignoring Slith's appeal. "Preparation you for dead,
Groaci big-shot! Fake up big war, eh, you tell. Make fool allbody, eh? Then
join force and invasion Terries, eh? Fruits and nuts! You never delusion me for
every! Hold on hats, kids—"

            "Don't
fire. The Soft One lies—as I can prove in most dramatic fashion—by blasting
your cancerous aggregation of derelicts into their component atoms—"

            "Retief—say
something," Magnan yelped. "If they shoot—"

            "Then
you Soft Ones will die!" Slith piped. "If they prevail you die with
my flagship—and if I prevail— then long shall you linger under the knives of my
virtuosi!"

            "How
you plan do so big shoot with empty gun?" Okkyokk inquired warily.

            "Retief!"
Slith cried. "Confess to him you lied— else will I decree torments yet
uninvented to adorn your passing!"

            "Better
open fire quickly—if you can," Retief said. "As for you,
General," he addressed the screen, "it always pays to get in the
first lick."

            "Retief,
what are you saying?" Magnan yelped. "Why goad them to this madness?
No matter who wins, we lose!"

            "My
confuse!" Okkyokk stated. "Splendor idea, shoot up unarmed Five
Eyes—but what if Terry big lying?"

            "Don't
let him get the jump on you, Slith," Retief advised.

            "Gunnery
Officer!" the Groaci commander piped in sudden, agonized decision.
"All batteries—open fire."

            The
response was instantaneous. A series of hollow clicking wounds came over the
intercom. They were followed by the dumfounded voice of the Gunnery officer.

            "Exalted
one—I regret to report—" "Sabotage," Slith yelled.

            On
the screen Okkyokk paused, one digital member poised above a large puce button.

            "How,
no explosing? Gun fails operatipning, just as Terry inform? Splendor!" the
Slox leader waggled his ocular extremities. "Now time procedure to you
with leisurely! Master Gunner—procedure blow picture window in Five Eyes
flagship, give Commander Slith good viewing of eventuals!"

            Slith
hissed and sprang for the door, where he fought for position with the guards
who had reached the portal before him. Magnan covered his ears and screwed his
eyes shut.

            "Whats?"
Okkyokk's puzzled voice was coming from the screen. "Hows? Malfunctionate
of firepower at times like these? My intolerate! Caramba! Oh, heck!"

            "I
suggest both you gentlemen relax." Retief raised his voice slightly over
the hubbub. "No one's going to do any shooting."

            "So—your
spies have infiltrated my flagship," Slith said. "Little will it
avail you, Retief. Once in space, my most creative efforts will be lavished on
your quivering corpori." He scrabbled on the rug, came up with his command
mike. "Engineer—lift off, emergency crash procedures."

            "Another
disappointment in store, I'm afraid, Slith," Retief said as no surge of
acceleration followed. "Herby's particularly sensitive to rocket
blasts," he explained gently. "Ergo—no gunfire."

            "Herby?"
Slith keened, waggling his eyes from which the jeweled shields had fallen in
the tussle. "Herby?"

            "Herby,"
Okkyokk muttered. "What Herby, which?"

            "Herby,"
Magnan gasped. "But—but—"

            "Undone?"
Slith whispered. "Trapped here by the treachery of the insidious Soft
Ones? But briefly shall you gloat, my Retief."

            The
Groaci jerked an elaborately ornamented gun from the plastic holster at his
bony hip, took aim.

            "Three
and out," Retief said as Slith stared in goggle-eyed paralysis at the
small coral-toned flower growing from the barrel of the weapon. "Herby
appreciates my conversation far too much to let you blow holes in me. Right,
Herby?"

            "Quite
so, Retief," a cricket-sized voice chirped from the dainty blossom.