Retief Unbound (32 page)

"Natch. You don't
figure the moomy-bird brung him, do you? That's a little joke, Retief. I know
you know the moomy-bird didn't bring him."

"How about this
fellow?" Retief indicated the unconscious Lumbagan stretched at his feet.
"He came from inside too?"

Smelch clucked
sympathetically. "I guess they must of left out some o' your marbles,
Retief. Where else would Zung of come from? In fact"—he lowered his voice
confidentially— "he ain't never graduated, poor sucker."

"Maybe you'd care
to amplify that remark a little, Smelch."

"Zung is one of
the boys which they ain't been allowed out in the big, wonderful world like you
and me." Smelch spread several hands expansively. "Except only maybe
a few feet to clobber anybody that comes along. What I figure is. . . ."
He lowered his voice to a solemn hush. "Him and the other ones, they ain't
all there, you know? Rejects, like."

"Rejects from
what, Smelch?"

"Shhh."
Smelch looked around worriedly. "I don't like the trend of the
conversation, which we're treading on shaky ground, especially this close to
you-know-what."

"No, but I think
it's time I found out."

"Hey—you ain't
planning on climbing the fence?"

"Unless you know
where the gate is."

"Sure—right up the
trail about a hundred yards, or maybe ten. I ain't too precise on the fine
detail work."

"Then I'll be off,
Smelch; give my regards to Flunt when you see him."

"You're really
going to sneak back into you-know-where and grab a peek at you-know-what? Boy
oh boy, if you-know-who sees you—"

"I know. Thanks
for clarifying matters. By the way, if you should run into a fellow with three
legs who answers to the name of Gloot, I'd appreciate any help you could give
him."

"Sure; you let me
know if we see him." "We?"

"Heck, yes. You
don't think I'm going in there alone, do you? And we better get moving. Zung's
starting to twitch."

As they proceeded
silently up the path, Retief was again aware of the soft rustlings and
snufflings he had noted on and off since his arrival on the island. Through a
gap in the shrubbery he caught a fleeting glimpse of a stealthy figure which
ducked out of sight as he paused. He went on; the rustling progress of his
shadow er resumed.

The gate—a wide
construction of aluminum panels and barbed wire—blocked the trail a hundred
feet above the point where they had encountered Zung. A green-shaded spotlight
outlined it starkly against the black foliage. A padlock the size of an alarm
clock dangled from a massive hasp.

"Any more guards
hidden out around the area?" Retief asked.

"Naw—with Flunt
and me doing a tight security job down below, and the other bum working in
close, who needs it?"

"An incisive
point," Retief conceded. They walked boldly up to the gate. Smelch tried it,
seemed surprised when it failed to swing open.

"Looks like it's
stuck," he commented, and ripped it from its hinges, lock and all, tossing
the crumpled panels aside with a metallic crash.

"Nothing like
direct action," Retief said admiringly. "But from this point on I
suggest we observe a trifle more caution, just in case there's anyone up there
whose suspicions might be aroused by the sound of a three-car collision this
far from the nearest highway."

"Say, pretty
shrewd," Smelch said admiringly. "I always wanted to team up with a
guy which he could figure the angles."

Beyond the former gate,
the path continued a few yards before debouching into a wide cleared strip
adjoining a high board fence that extended for some distance in both
directions.

"Home, sweet
home," Smelch said nostalgically. "The old place sure has changed
since I ventured out into the great world."

"Has it?"

"Sure. After all,
that was a couple hours ago." "This is where you were born and
raised, in other words." "Yeah—inside the fence is where I spent my
happy childhood, all four days of it." "I'd like to see the old
place."

"Well, old
Sneakyfeet won't like it—but to heck with him and his dumb rules. Who but a
alumnus would want to look inside anyways? Come on, Retief." Smelch led
the way to an inconspicuous gate which yielded to his efforts, not without a
certain amount of splintering. Retief propped the door back in place and turned
to regard an extensive array of ranked cages stacked in long aisles that led
away in the moonlight to the far line of the fence. A dispirited yammering
chorus of sound started up nearby, reminiscent of visiting day at a pet
hospital. A vaguely zoolike odor hung in the air.

Retief approached the
nearest row of cages. In the first, a creature resembling a rubber rutabaga
with spidery legs slumped dolefully against the bars. Adjacent, a pair of
apprehensive-looking ankles huddled together for warmth.

"Freebies,"
Smelch said. "Just in from the jungle. Little do the poor little fellers
dream what a high class destiny's in store for 'em."

"What destiny is
in store for them, Smelch?"

"Right this
way," the Lumbagan invited, indicating the next rank of cages. These were
somewhat larger than those in the first section, each containing a creature
giving the appearance of having been assembled from spare parts. Here a spindly
leg drummed the fingers of a lone hand springing from where a foot might have
been expected; there a bored-looking lower lip, flanked by a pair of generous
ears, sprang directly from an unmistakable elbow. In the next echelon, the
cages were still larger, occupied by specimens of a more sophisticated
appearance. A well-developed paunch with a trio of staring brown eyes at the
top squatted on four three-toed feet, watching the visitors incuriously. A remarkably
human-looking head with a full beard swung from the roof of its prison by the
muscular arm that was its sole appendage.

"Uh, some o' the
boys look a little weird," Smelch said apologetically, "but in the
end they mostly turn out handsome devils, like me."

"Someone seems to
have gone to considerable trouble to set up this lonelyhearts farm,"
Retief commented. "In the natural state, I understand, matches among
Freebies take place at rare intervals. This looks like mass production. Any
idea why, Smelch?"

"Nope. I ain't one
of them guys which he asks questions all the time, you know what I mean? I
mean, why poke the old nostrils in and maybe get 'em stuffed full of lint,
right?"

"It's a philosophy
without which bureaucracy as we know it would soon wither away," Retief
conceded. "What was your job when you were here, Smelch?"

"Well, lessee,
there was eating. That took a lot o' my time. Then there was sleeping. I like
that pretty good. Then . . . lessee ... I guess that just about wraps it up.
Why?"

"You must have a
strong union," Retief said. "Why were you here?"

"Jeez, you know
that's a question which a guy could wonder about it a long time if he wouldn't
drop off to sleep first. Personally, I got like a theory that before we can
attack the problem of transcendentalism, we got to examine the nature of
knowledge and its limitations, making a appropriate distinction between noumena
and phenomena. I figure by coordinating perceptions by means of rationally
evolved concepts of understanding we can proceed to the analysis of experience
and arrive at the categorical imperative, with its implicit concomitants. Get
what I mean?"

"I think possibly
I've been underestimating you, Smelch. I didn't know you read Kant."

"Can't read, you
mean," Smelch corrected. "Nope, I never had the time for no idle
pursuits, what with that heavy schedule I told you about."

"Quite
understandable, Smelch. By the way, Flunt mentioned you'd only been here a
week. Where were you before that?"

"Well, now we're
getting into the area o' the metaphysical, Retief, which when you examine
material phenomena by inductive processes you arrive at a philosophical
materialism, not to exclude ontological and epistemological considerations,
which in general could be assumed to deny metaphysics any validity in the
context o' Aristotelian logic. Or am I just spinning my wheels?"

"Did you work that
out for yourself, Smelch, or did somebody tip you off?"

"Never mind. I
don't think I'd grasp the full significance of the answer anyway."

They passed the last of
the cages, these occupied by a bewildering variety of Lumbagan life forms in a
wide range of colors and shapes, and displaying a remarkably diverse endowment
of limbs, sensory equipment, and other somatic elements.

"They look
vigorous enough," Retief commented as one hefty specimen gripped the bars
and drooled at him.) "But I get an impression they're not too
bright."

"Well, sure, first
they got to go through the indoctrination center. You can't expect a
agglomeration which last week it was grubbing roots in the woods to be a
instant intellectual. That takes a couple days."

"I see. Where do
we go from here, Smelch?"

"How about the
cafeteria? I got a yen for some good old home cooking."

"Let's save that
until after I've met you-know-who," Retief suggested.

"Mondays they
usually got mud-on-a-mortarboard," Smelch said nostalgically, testing the
air through his multiple nostrils. "Also on Wednesday, Saturday, and all
the other days. Lucky it's my favorite. But I guess you're right, Retief. We
got to make our courtesy calls before we chow down. I guess old Sneaky-feet. .
. ." Smelch paused. "Hey, talking about sneaky feet, old you-know-who
has got three toes on each foot; I barged in on him once when he was just
climbing out of a tub of hot sand. Wow, if language was skinning hooks, I'd of
been flayed to the ribs in no time. That's when I seen 'em. His feet, I mean. .
. ."

He broke off as a
faint, rhythmic sound became audible, swiftly growing louder. The running
lights of a copter appeared above the treetops, winking in a complicated
pattern. The machine sank out of sight beyond the fence.

"What do you know,
Retief—that's old Whatzis himself," Smelch cried delightedly. "But
now that it's time to make the introductions," he added with sudden doubt,
"I kind of wonder if it's a good idea. If he's in a bad mood he could
maybe interpret it as me not doing my job of keeping outsiders on the
outside."

"Let's hope he
doesn't take a narrow-minded approach,"

Retief said
encouragingly. They had reached the section of fence opposite the point where
the copter had descended. He jumped, caught the top, pulled himself up in time
to see a hurrying figure in a dark cloak and a pale headgear disappear into a
small structure at the edge of the clearing.

He pulled himself over
and dropped to the ground. A moment later Smelch joined him.

"That copter's
been busy tonight," Retief said. "What's in the building?"

"All kinds of neat
stuff, like the cafeteria," Smelch said. "Did I mention they got
mud-on-a-mortarboard?"

"You did. Let's go
take a closer look."

They reached the door
through which the heli's passenger had disappeared. It opened, and they stepped
into a brightly lit corridor. At the far end, light gleamed through a
glass-paneled door. When they reached it, muffled sounds were audible from the
room beyond.

Retief took a small
button-shaped object from his pocket, pressed it to the door, put his ear to
it.

". . . you still
hesitate?" a suave voice said. "Possibly you are deterred by ethical
considerations, a reluctance to betray those who have placed their trust in
you. Dismiss the thought, fellow! What harm to honor if nobody blabs, eh?"

Snorting and threshing
sounds followed.

"Ah . . . Exalted
One," a breathy Groaci voice whispered, "to offer a suggestion: the
removal of the gag to facilitate compliance with instructions."

"Um. I was just
about to order. Guard!"

Heavy footsteps
sounded, followed by a ripping sound and a hoarse yell, then a shuddering sigh.

"Just one,"
Gloot's voice said yearningly. "Just one little old ocular, right by the roots.
..."

A faint buzz sounded,
eliciting a grunt of annoyance.

"Cretin!" the
Groaci hissed. "The unwarranted interruption of His Unutterableness'
virtuoso performance!"

"To regret—but to
report untoward circumstances without," a second Groaci whispered in
agitation.

"Begone, imbecile.
This taciturn wretch is just on the point of divulging all!"

"Ah—Eminent
One—the desirability of completing my report."

"What
report?"

"The one which
prompted this lowly one to intrude on Your Loftiness' deliberations: namely and
to wit: the discovery that the security of this installation has been
broached."

"Indeed?" the
Groaci hissed. "To imply you failed to see to the complete combustion of
file copies of certain special requisitions? To attend to it at once, thus
forestalling any possible criticism by the small-minded—"