Reward for Retief (24 page)

            "And what, pray, are
the duties of your office?" Magnan demanded.

            "Say," Red
interrupted. "I guess I better tell youse, me bein stuck in here with
youse: Boys are gonna block the entry, here, so we better—" He broke off
as a handful of gravel clattered on the rock floor, followed by a
baseball-sized stone, which Bill deftly caught and threw back, eliciting a yell
from outside. Retief stepped past the lad as a boulder as big as a watermelon
was thrust through the opening. He caught it, lifted it overhead, and hurled it
back. More yells ensued, followed by a moment of stillness.

            "—Get a pit mortar in
there!" a hoarse voice was audible.

            "Heavens, Retief!"
Magnan cried. "We'd best withdraw at once. After all, you can't go on all
day returning their serves!" He turned to Gaby, who was still seated at
the table, finishing her repast.

            "Come, my dear,"
he urged. "At any moment these ruffians will be upon us."

            "No hurry," she
replied calmly. "That's just the Spoilsports, trying to discover a new
thrill."

            "I'm sure the old
thrill of braining innocent bystanders will serve as well," Magnan
snapped. "Come!" He caught her hand and tugged her to her feet.

            "Hold on, there,
Mister," Red blurted. "We need every man to keep that hole
open!" He suited action to words by grabbing up a rock and tossing it past
Retief, only to see the ragged triangle of wan daylight further diminished by a
new rock shoved into place from outside.

            "I wonder," Magnan
said nervously to Bill, "what's become of the Voice—ah, the Worm, as the
locals call it. One would expect it to assist in this moment of peril."

           
—sorry, ben,
the Voice said, faint and faraway,
at the moment i'm beset by a horde of strange
eaters-rogues, it appears, in company with a group of terrans like yourself.

           
"What?"
Magnan yelped. "Terries in league with locals?"

            "Smeer," Retief
announced from the portal. "And Counselor Overbore, and a couple of
others. That's Colonel Underknuckle, in the disguise, I think. I'm going out to
see what they're up to." With that, Retief climbed out through the now
tight crevice. Too late, Magnan leapt to attempt to restrain him.

            "He'll be killed!"
he whimpered. "Those ruffians will assault him without mercy!"

            "I reckon Mr. Retief
can take care of hisself," Bill commented in a matter-of-fact tone. Small
went to the opening, dodged an incoming, and peered out.

            "All's well," he
announced. "Retief's talking to some fat guy, and I don't see nothing of
Tiny, nor Dirty Eddie, nor Bimbo's bunch neither. No pillars in sight."

            "Hold it," Red
interrupted. "Look yonder—back of that line of brush—" He broke off
as Retief abruptly took the plump man's arm and urged him toward the hedge-like
growth to which Bill had referred. A whiskery fellow in archaic clothing stood
nearby.

            "That's Chief Smeer
hiding backa there," Bill explicated. "And looks like Retief s going
to ennerdooce him to Sid Overbore."

            "I hardly think it
appropriate," Magnan said glacially, "for a Marine guard of
non-commissioned rank to refer to a Counselor of Embassy by his first name, and
a nickname at that!"

            "This'll be good,"
Bill predicted. "Old Sid badmouths the pillars worser'n anybody. Now he's
gonna hafta shake hands with one."

            "I venture to
predict," Magnan sniffed, "that Counselor Overbore will conduct
himself with the panache of the career diplomat, however such contact may
repugn him personally."

            "Hiya, Sid,"
Smeer's wheezy voice could be heard greeting the reluctant Terran Deputy Chief
of Mission familiarly. "The next arms shipment about ready?"

            Overbore drew himself up
stiffly. "Chief Smeer," he began. "I can't imagine—"

            "Yeah, that's one o'
yer problem areas, Sid," Smeer dismissed the objection. "How about
it? Them rocket launchers coming in on schedule or what? I don't know how long
I can keep my boys in hand—especially with this
agent provacateur
Retief
stirring up the natives and all." As his large, faceted eye fell on Retief,
he uttered a yelp. "Hey! that's him! I know the rascal good, seen his
pitchers, and seen
him
the time he like massacreed me and my boys in the
performance of our duty and all! Get him!"

            As Overbore turned,
startled, to follow Smeer's excited gesture, he was thrust aside by two pillars
who had erupted from the shrubbery at the chief s outburst.

            "Where's he at?"
one demanded. The other knocked Colonel Underknuckle to the ground, dislodging
his false whiskers and tricorn hat. The colonel clapped a hand over his eyes as
if to render himself invisible. "I told you!" he yelled to Overbore.
"It was a mistake for us to venture out here into the wilderness,
unaccompanied! But no, you wouldn't listen! Said you had the confounded locals
under your thumb!"

            "That will be quite
enough, Fred!" Sid cut off the excited colonel coldly. "I'm sure the
chief will be only too glad to assist you to your feet—" He broke off to
peer sharply at Retief.

            "You're that
undisciplined fellow Retief!" he accused. "What are
you
doing
here, meddling in high-level GUTS-security matters? Well, I'm waiting! Eh,
what's that?" He paused to cup his ear as if listening for distant
birdcalls.

            "I'm to 'be silent and
return whence'?" He frowned at Retief, then shook his head impatiently.
"Couldn't be," he concluded. "Voices in my head—and such
impertinence from a mere Second Secretary from the Econ Section—are equally
impossible!" He turned his back to Retief and assisted Fred Underknuckle
to his feet.

            "Don't bother with that
silly hat," he advised the colonel. "Can't think from whom you
imagine you should attempt to disguise your identity, in any case. But your
cover is blown now, so throw away those whiskers at once!"

            "Don't want any nosy
press personnel leaping to conclusions," Underknuckle grumped. "As if
the Terran Military Attache would be associated with illegal schemes to
overthrow the local authorities and—"

           
silence foolish one
! the ubiquitous Voice commanded.
you'd best clear out, now! your venal schemes
will avail you naught, I am not disturbed by your pathetic rockets and bullets.

           
"I never
said about no bullets," Fred protested. "And they're far from
'pathetic,' I assure you! At the last trials—" He stopped in mid-bleat and
looked around wildly.

            "You, there," he
addressed Retief, who was busy shoving one of the Sardonic bodyguard's elbows
into the jaws of the other, who was reflexively gnawing the intruding apendage,
while both yelled in protest.

            "Stop fooling with
those chaps!" the confused Colonel ordered. "At a serious moment such
as this, when the fates of worlds, to say nothing of my career—and Sid
Overbore's, too, for that matter, are hanging in the balance—to indulge in
horseplay is inexcusable! And how dare you order me to 'shut up and clear out'
in that insidious manner?"

            "I didn't,
Colonel," Retief replied cooly, "but it wouldn't be a bad idea."
He turned and spoke quietly to the two pillars and dismissed them with a hearty
shove apiece. They retired to the shelter of their chief, who slithered forward
to confront Retief.

            "Hey, you can't
alien-handle my valiant troops that way! You seen him, Sid! You gonna let this
criminal brutalize we deserving locals like that?"

            "One moment,
Chief," Overbore objected. "While Mr. Retief was, perhaps, a bit
precipitate in his rejection of your minions' implied threat, he is still an
accredited diplomatic member of the staff of the Terran AE and MP, hardly a
mere criminal!"

            "Oh, yeah?" Smeer
countered cheekily, and unrolled a rather soiled copy of the poster bearing the
smeary photo of Retief and the legend 'Reward for information, etc. s/His
Terran Excellency.'

            "You
misunderstand," Overbore improvised, "His Ex was merely concerned for
the safety of one of his subordinates who had unaccountably disappeared!"

            "I see what I see,"
Smeer dismissed the alibi. "I'm hunting this here enemy of society, and
so's yer boss; he- must be a desperate bad hombre. So I'm taking him in!

            Listening at the cave mouth,
Small poked Magnan with his elbow. "Well, we gonna resacue old Retief, or
what?" he grunted, and started past. "C'mon."

            Magnan caught at the burly
fellow's coattail. "Wait! I'm sure Retief can deal with the situation.
Just he low and watch!"

            Small muttered but subsided.
Outside, on the trampled patch of emerald grass, Smeer was reaching for Retief
s arm. Suddenly, Retief jabbed quickly, and the caterpillar-like officer of
Constabulary whipped up and over to slam the ground like ten feet of
infuriated, scaled and fanged rug-beater hitting a carpet. Leaves flew, and
both Sid Overbore and Colonel Underknuckle uttered sharp cries and dashed off
into the underbrush, whence they were promptly retrieved by Smeer's two
retainers, who had at last succeeded in ending their reflexive gnawing at each
other's impenetrable hides.

            Smeer rose slowly and
painfully. "Dirty pool, Retief," he complained. "Who told you
about the Achilles heel of us noble Zanny-duers? The sensitive zata-patch is
our most guarded state secret; in fact it's our only state secret, whatever
that is."

            "A fellow named Big, or
Small Henry told me," Retief informed the chief.

            "I heard o' that
Terry," Smeer declared. "Runs some kind o' off-limits dope den or
something, spose to be in some unknown part of the valley, never could find the
place."

            "Your boys raided it
just a couple of hours ago," Retief corrected.

            "Dang!" Smeer
spat. "That's that pushy Lieutenant Blot, tryna make Captain! Tole him
it's better to keep the criminal element all pinned down in one spot, steada
spooking 'em so they run in ever direction."

            "You were right,"
Retief said. "Things will never be the same again. And you can forget your
deal with Sid."

            "See here, young
man," Overbore burst out as he bustled forward to confront Retief.
"I'll brook no insolence from trouble-makers of your stripe!"

            "Suits me, Mr.
Overbore," Retief replied quietly. "But it's only fair to let this
poor sucker know the plan is blown."

            " 'Blown,' you say?
After months—nay, years of the most delicate finessing by seasoned diplomats,
you propose to butt in and destroy the basis of the Sardon-Terra accord?"

            "No, sir, I don't
propose," Retief corrected. "It's already done."

            "Look here, Mr.
Retief," Overbore said in a more placating tone. "I'll be candid with
you. Chief Smeer and his gang are, of course, merely a mob of thugs. But better
an alliance with them than no alliance at all on this hell-world of anarchy!
And in addition—those stories of some horrid great monster terrorizing the
hinterlands—I'm persuaded they're true!"

           
how you do run on, sid
, the silent Voice commented.

           
where did you get such a silly idea?

           
"I've told
you not to speak impertinently to me, sir!" Overbore barked at Retief.
" 'Silly idea,' indeed! I have that direct from George, the janitor, our
very best Usually Reliable Source!