Retief and the Rascals (26 page)

            "Let me at these local levies," Pete
growled, and set off at a trot to marshal his captains. One of the latter, Yang
the Execrable by name, had anticipated his order and was approaching Ape's
platoon, which was standing at ease between himself and
Intolerable,
a
battered cruiser sadly in need of maintenance.

            "Hey!" Yang yelled, eliciting a
curious glance from the lieutenant, who casually continued deploying his small
force in preparation for advance through the spot occupied by the Groaci.

            "Halt them at once!" Hish screeched.
"Now it appears my trusting chaps are to be subjected to aggression on both
flanks simultaneously!" He returned his attention to his talker:
"Foof! Go into a zum-formation! Receive the Terries upon the
bayonet!"

            "What barbarity!" Magnan gasped.
"Poor Ape doesn't stand a chance! Perhaps, Jim, we'd better—"

            "Lemme have a word with that Yang
character," Snag, who had been hovering nearby, grunted, and moved off
toward the scar-faced Oriental, followed by Grinder and Buggy.

            "That there," Pete contributed,
"is Yang Shapiro, Genghis Ka Khan of all the Mongols. He'll use old Snag
fer a penwiper." He looked at Retief. "Trouble is," he confided,
"I don't know if that's good or bad. Old Yang's on my side, o' course,
'cept I got a idear he mighta made some kinda deal with that five-eyes name o'
Foof; tricky, old Yang is. Then there's Sarge hisself. I got this hunch he's
working fer that Brag Gab rascal Buck Promo is siding with Ape right now, and
maybe that's Big Ben Crmblnski conning
Indy—
if Chornt ain't staged a
counter-mutiny. But Ape's going after the Indestructibles, and they're pals
with Promo, looks like. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, but, I'll jest be
fair with ya, Retief, I lost count. Who's the good guys—and why do I want to
side with the good guys, anyways?"

            "Just stick to self-defense," Retief
suggested. "Right now it looks like Yang and Snag aren't hitting it off
too well, so ..."

            "Yeah, and Yang's one o' my line
captains," Pete supplied, "so that makes me against Snag, nyet?"

            "Do be gentle," Magnan urged.
"Poor Snag doesn't realize just what he's up against. And look out for
Brag: he's a tricky devil.

            "Ha!" Pete scoffed. "I eat them
Brag-types fer afternoon tea!"

            He strode across to where Yang and Snag had
reached the "Oh, yeah?" and shoving stage. He grabbed Snag carelessly
and yanked, and the latter yelled, "I ain't even
seen
you!" He
swung wildly, and collapsed.

            "Jeez, pal," Pete said contritely.
"I di'n't know you was sick!" He turned to look mournfully across at
Magnan. "Whyn't you tell me the guy was one o' them invalids?" he
demanded. "Coulda hurt the pore feller."

            The remainder of Pete's plaint was lost in a
roll of thunder as Ape's small contingent of condemned space-vessels swooped
low over the field, sending up roiling clouds of gritty dust. Hish, threshing
his eye-stalks in evidence of Dire Distress (G-12-a), clutched at Magnan's
sleeve. His voice, never strong, was almost inaudible:

            "Ben! Let's deal! Call off that gang of
criminals and I'll turn Foof's command over to you to do with as you see fit!
Foof's overdue for the Retired List anyway, and definitely out of favor with
the Council; it wouldn't do for me to be too closely identified with his
probably illegal activities here!"

           
"General
Hish!" Magnan gasped.
"You'd sell out your very own subordinate commander? Shocking! Anyway,
I
have no control over Ape! He's acting Grand Admiral now, you know. Why he
dragged the field, I don't know ..." Magnan paused to bat ineffectually at
the settling but still thick dust. "Just boyish spirits, I suppose."
He fumbled for his talker, and barked: "Lieutenant and Brevet Grand
Admiral! Ground your command at once, just beyond the Groaci units. Don't buzz
the port again! Over and out!"

            "Are-Roger, Field HQ," Ape's drawl
came back. "Sorry about that. I tole the boys to pass in review and I
guess they forgot to bleed off relative velocity first. Won't happen again. By
the way, before I go outa the pirate business, you fellers want me to
neutralize the assault force I just picked up on a hard-contact veck? Looks
like it might be them rogue units outa Blinch. Colonel Switchback's
bunch."

            "By all means!" Magnan yelled.
"But don't precipitate a war with the Navy!"

            "Jeez," Ape moaned. "The burden
o' command is never so heavy as when a fella gotta figure out how to do the
impossible. 'Hit 'em, but don't hurt 'em', the guy says. How'm I s'pose to do
that?"

            "It is precisely such thorny questions to
resolve which you received your promotion," Magnan snapped. "Hop to
it! I can see the Colonel's lead units already!"

            "I'll pull a bluff," Ape announced,
and at once yelled, Sarge! Get your rust-bucket in line abreast on my left
flank. Soonest. Brag," he went on, "you got maybe a kinda chance if
you can get that gang o Yahoos o' yourn under control long enough to get in
echelon coming up my right flank! Hish," he addressed the once-arrogant
general, "if I let Foof lift off, will you order him into line astern o'
me?"

            "What? Act as an escort to a Terry
corsair?" Hish shrieked. "Never! To be astonished at your
impudence!"

            "Then I guess I'll hafta blast 'em where
they set," Ape remarked, even as he re-formed his strike force in an
all-enveloping Omar and executed a smart wham-reversal to approach the grounded
Groaci task force at strafing level.

            "That is to say," Hish gobbled,
"on more mature consideration, to feel that perhaps—"

            " 'Perhaps' don't cut it, Hish!" Ape
interrupted. "Are you in, or out?"

            "In, by all means!" Hish gobbled.
"I'll have these fellows in position before you can say 'Treason to the
Autonomy'!" He switched over to Foof's channel and issued crisply
conflicting orders. The Groaci flag vessel lifted at once, followed, rank by
rank, by the rest of the command. When the dust cleared, the tight Groaci
formation could be seen rapidly overhauling Ape's somewhat dispersed units,
which abruptly split into a fountain as each echelon curved out and back to
come alongside the approaching aliens.

            "Retief!" Ape's voice shouted from the
overused talker. "These here Five-eyes are trying to pull a fast one! When
I wasn't looking, they done a sneak maneuver which they're abaft my beam-ends,
coming on balls to the wall. OK if I rake 'em good?"

            "Hold your fire, Lieutenant," Magnan
cut in quickly. "They're trying to rendezvous with you to escort you past
the Navy and the Indestructibles, just so there'll be no
misunderstandings."

            "Hah! what I'm worried about—not that I'm
worried—is understanding! Th boys sees me in formation with a bunch of Groaci,
look out! Uh-oh, sorry about that, fellers, seems like my gunnery officer got a
little previous and taken out the Gruck flagship! Now I better—" His voice
cut off abruptly at the same moment that his vessel,
Irresolute,
exploded.

            "Oh, dear!" Magnan wailed.
"General Hish, you shouldn't have—" He broke off as the remainder of
Ape's force broke formation, each ship diving directly toward the nearest
vessel of the putative escort. Magnan yelped and began gobbling contradictive
orders to both Buck Promo and Colonel Switchback to intervene at once and
separate the combatants and by
no
means become involved themselves.

            "How'm I s'pose to do that?"
Switchback grumbled. "I and Buck Promo got a bone to pick, anyways.
Can't
cooperate with the sumbuck, which he's not a feller to stay bought!"

            "You'll have to," Retief told him.
"Or Brag Gab will neutralize both of you, if Pete doesn't do it first."

            "You just say the word Retief," Pete's
growling voice cut through the chatter. "I can take out Promo's flagship,
and the rest of his gang won't know whether to spit or go blind!"

            "Hold it, Pete," Retief cautioned.
"I need you to stand off and monitor the action, and then step in to pick
up the pieces."

            "Jim!" Magnan rasped, his eyes
narrowed as he listened intently to his right-beam talker, linked, Retief knew,
directly to the Embassy Coderoom.

            "We have to clean up this little
misunderstanding at once!" Magnan gasped. "Of all times, the Sector
Inspection Team has chosen now—this day, this hour—to stage a surprise
inspection. The Ambassador is furious! He demands we snow the Team a pacified
Bloor. They'll be here in half an hour."

        "Nope," Retief
replied. "They're here now."

            Magnan turned to follow Retief's wave, and saw a
VIP-converted heavy cruiser on final approach at the far end of the
debris-littered port.

            "Heavens!" Magnan moaned.
"Whatever are we to do, Jim, to show them the true peace and harmony that
rule here, somewhat disguised at the moment by the apparent disorder now
seemingly in progress?"

        He paused then: "I
have it!

            "Let's tell 'em it's Reverse Peace, an old
Bloorish custom," he proposed earnestly. "In honor of all the joy of halcyon
coexistence, they stage a mock Battle Carnival to remind each other of what
they're missing. The inspectors are generally a dull-witted lot. They'll
believe anything that will cut down on their paperwork!"

            "Magnan," a stranger's voice came from
the talker by his ear. "I'm FSO-1 Snail, Chief Inspector, TFS. You really
ought to watch that open mike. A fellow could get in deep stuff thinking aloud
on the all-band."

            "Yipes!" Magnan exclaimed. "I
didn't even—I mean I only meant—"

            "Jim," Magnan groaned, "that's
Pokey Snail, the demon inspector! How honored we are, to receive his personal
attention!"

            "Sure, Ben," Snail came back.
"Say, what was that you were saying about cutting down on the paperwork? A
carnival, you say? Glad you mentioned it. Captain Muldoon here was getting
nervous."

            Magnan paused to switch off his master
communications box before remarking to Retief:

            "Did you hear that, Jim? It's
mind-boggling! Po— the Chief Inspector himself said he'd overlook any irregularities
here in the interest of simplifying reportorial procedures, in return for which
I'm to supply appropriate documentary proof that this mess is really a
festival, to cover him in case anyone actually checks up!"

            "Meaning," Retief interpreted,
"if we can give him an out, he'll cover up the whole thing, to avoid
having a blot on his chumship record. I admire your ability to interpret
triplespeak, Ben."

            "One must, in order to survive,"
Magnan dismissed the tribute. "Now, all we need to do is prove this is all
in fun; and—"

            "Good idea," Retief approved.
"And if we can sell the idea to Brag Gab, ana maybe Buck Promo ..."

            "We'd have to have Switchback's cooperation
as well," Magnan contributed. "But if we can convince him it's a
trick to take Promo out of the picture ..."

            "And just how," Hish cut in, "do
you propose to convince
me
that this full-scale battle is a joyous
carnival?"

            "That won't be too hard General,"
Retief remarked to the ill-tempered Groaci, at the same moment that he brushed
aside the alien's jewel-encrusted VIP eye-shields and grasped his twitching
eyestalks. He gave the sensitive oculars a half-twist to the left and paused.

            "Ready to give Foof his orders?" he
inquired artlessly, "or shall we go for a full one-eighty?"

            "Oh, Admiral Foof!" Hish gobbled into
his talker. "To have forgotten to mention it, perhaps, but our
participation in this festival doesn't include the actual symbolic discharge of
live ammunition. So do be careful not to give an erroneous impression!"

            " 'Symbolic'?" Foof hooted. "I've
got hot loads programmed in all batteries, Hish, and I'm raring to go! What
festival? You mean like a turkey-shoot? Whee! Commence firing!"

            "To be too late," Hish moaned.
"To have sprung this piece of fakery a trifle earlier, to have been
better, Ben!"

            "Yes, of course," Magnan gulped.
"But under the circumstances—" His voice trailed off; above, six
gung-ho fighting forces converged, intent on clearing space of lesser rascals.

            "What's a general officer to do?" Hish
wept. "If Chief Inspector Whilsh arrives here and sees Groaci units
engaged in open combat with Terran-manned units—no matter they started it—well,
Ben,
both
our careers will lie in ruins,
and
I daresay the Terry
Peace Enforcers now conducting exercises off Floon will feel called upon to
intervene, as well. Ghastly! Do you suppose if I order Foof ...?"