Authors: Keith Laumer
"He's lying!"
Suash cried. "I'll bet you know about the secret recognition signal, two
long and three short—and the reinforcements we're expecting from Rumboogie and
Hylerica and Slovenger—and—"
"Very well, I
confess, all that and more," Pilth confirmed hastily. "No need to
spell out the particulars—"
"But surely you
haven't yet tipped them off about the plan for a coordinated police action a
week from Tuesday, under cover of the spring rites?"
"Assume the
worst!" Pilth hissed.
"This is a
disaster!" Suash cried, clapping various hands to his forehead. "The
pernicious little sneak has blown the operation wide open!"
"I wonder how he
got the word back?" Gloot inquired. "Him still being here and
all."
"Yes—how did you
get the word back to your Terran masters?" Suash echoed. "No one's
left this island for weeks!"
"Ah ... I employed
a variety of clever ruses, no need to burden you with such trivia," Pilth
temporized.
"I'll bet the
little villain has spilled the beans about our Galactic Ultimate Top Secret
weapon, too!" Suash yelped. "Let me at him!" Retief restrained
the outraged officer as he lunged for the trembling spy.
"Don't do anything
hasty, Colonel," he said soothingly. "We may be able to turn this
situation to advantage."
"How? The rascally
knave has probably reported everything to the Terran ambassador! He must have
sent off his dispatches via the bakery man, now that I think of it! He calls
every morning in a sampan that's probably a fast courier boat in
disguise!" Suash groaned. "And while I was dunking jelly doughnuts,
news of every move I made was being whisked off under my very noses!"
"Well, what are we
going to do about it?" Gloot demanded. "Call the whole thing
off?"
"There's only one
thing we can do," Suash declared, and smacked several fists into an
appropriate number of palms. "Move D-day forward! We attack at once! Now!
Today!"
"Impossible!"
Pilth screeched. "We're not ready!"
"All the
better!" Suash barked. "I'll catch you Terries off-balance,
and—"
"I mean you're not
ready! Your noble Groaci allies have not yet completed all arrangements
necessary to bring off the coup with the flawless timing that will leave no
treacherous Terran alive to carry exaggerated tales of perfidy and
betrayal!"
"That's their
lookout!"
"Then, too,"
Pilth whispered acidly, "there is the problem of your loyal troops, now
dispersed through the woods like so many strayed kine, aquiver with
apprehension lest their beloved commandant run amok amongst them!"
"Hmm. You've put
your finger on a problem area," Suash conceded. "But forget those
shirkers! There are plenty more where they came from—and you and I know where
that is, eh, Retief?"
"One of us
does," the Terran agreed.
"Oh, you think I'm
not in on the top-level planning, eh?" the colonel bridled. "Well, as
it happens I'm well aware that the location of the repo depot is—" He
broke off. "But I won't mention the name in front of the Terry spy, just
in case he doesn't already know. Not that it matters much." Suash drew his
pistol. "Stand aside, Retief, and I'll finish off the sly little devil
before we go."
"Wait!" Pilth
whispered in Groaci. "Retief! To appeal to you as a fellow alien, to stay
the hand of the barbarian ere he commits a tactical error of incalculable
dimensions!"
"To propose a
deal," Retief replied in the same tongue. "To give me details of the
secret weapon, and then to put in a good word for you."
"To suggest that
I, a trusted minion of the Groacian autonomy, would divulge information bearing
a GUTS classification? Fie, Terran! To do your worst!"
"I was afraid
you'd feel that way," Retief said.
"Here, what are
you aliens gossiping about?" Suash demanded suspiciously. "Speak
plain Lumbagan!"
"Pilth was just
saying a few last words," Retief explained.
"But on the other
hand," Pilth added quickly, "why make an issue of a few dry data? The
supply of cannon fodder will be adequate to compensate for any modest foreknowledge
that might leak to the enemy camp—"
"Hey," Gloot
cut in, "do you hear something, Retief?" He cocked a pair of ears
toward the forest trail.
"Yes, but I
hesitated to interrupt at this point. You were saying, Pilth?"
"Wait a
minute," Suash barked. "I'll bet that's my boys coming back to report
for company punishment and then back into harness with no hard feelings!"
"Ha! Doubtless
succor approaches!" Pilth hissed. "Now will your crimes be visited on
your head, insidious Terry im-poster!"
There was a flash of
blue light from the darkness, a simultaneous sharp report; Suash yelled as the
gun flew from his grasp.
"Keep your hands
in sight and don't make a move," an authoritative voice barked. "I'm
Ensign Yubb of the Harbor Patrol, and all you smugglers are under arrest!"
"Well, quite a
haul," the Lumbagan, neat in a dark blue uniform, commented as his
varigated detachment of marines closed in, aiming guns of unmistakable Terran
design. He was of medium-height and unexceptional appearance, having three
arms, four legs, and a random distribution of other members. "A couple of
renegades, I see, plus a pair of foreigners."
"See here,
fellow," Pilth hissed, "if you will employ your good offices to
eliminate the Terry and his toady, as well as their dupe, Colonel Suash, you
will find the Groacian Autonomy not ungrateful."
"Don't let this
trickster delude you, Admiral," Suash spoke up. "For some reason he's
trying to pose as a Groaci—"
"A Groaci, you
say? Is that a fact?" Yubb looked Pilth up and down. "Got any
proof?"
"Proof? I invite
you, Ensign, to observe for yourself! I exhibit in classic form those
characteristics which alone endow the owner with the peculiar beauty of Groacihood!"
"Peculiar is
right," Gloot commented. "Just grab his eyes and pull. They're
plastic, stuck on with rubber cement. I spotted 'em the minute I saw 'em. This
here"—he indicated Retief—"is the genuine article."
"Then I guess that
makes this one a Terry," the officer deduced, eyeing Pilth
unenthusiastically and aiming his gun at Retief. "Not too
impressive-looking, but what the heck. Mine not to reason why, mine but to
shoot the guy."
"Wouldst cut down
a helpless prisoner on the strength of a mere literary allusion?" Pilth
screeched. "And a garbled allusion at that."
"I don't have much
choice," Yubb assured the alien. "I've got orders to drill at Groaci
on sight."
"Unconscionable!"
Pilth hissed. "I warn you, sir, any such thoughtless act will earn you a
regrettable fate at the hands of vengeful Groaci hordes, soon to sweep clean
the infected real estate of this pestilential world!"
"For a Terry, you
come on kind of ambiguous," Yubb said. "You'd think I was about to
plug you"—he swiveled to cover Retief with the gun—"instead of
him."
"Ah ... to be
sure," Pilth recovered. "It was merely my kindly instinct at work at
the prospect of seeing a fellow alien dispatched before my eyes. However, in
the interest of interplanetary amity, I withdraw my objection."
"Gee, the
sentiment does you credit," Yubb said. "In fact, out of deference to
the nobility of the gesture, I'll spare the Groaci scoundrel for the
nonce." He gave Retief a look designed to intimidate. "But don't let
it go to your head, fellow. I've heard about you Groaci, always on the lookout
for a way to repay a charitable act with a knife in the ribs."
"An
exaggeration," Pilth snapped. "There are occasions, of course, when
expediency requires the sacrifice of the softer principles, but I can assure
you that there are compensating virtues in the Groaci makeup, not the least of
which is a commendable tenacity in the avenging of affronts."
"Sure, don't get
carried away," Yubb said. "You'd think the Groaci were you Terries'
best pals. Don't worry, I'll watch him. Now let's get moving. If I can get
these Groaci and these two smugglers back to port before shift change, I'll net
a nice bonus—"
"One moment,"
Pilth interrupted hastily. "I must protest your apparent intention to
include my person in your party. As it happens, I have urgent business here,
rudely interrupted when these miscreant locals, assisted by their, ah, Groaci
henchmen, set upon me."
"What
business?"
"That," Pilth
whispered, "is my affair."
"For a foreigner
you're throwing a lot of weight around, Terry," Yubb retorted. "My
orders were to chase down these
foof
smugglers and clean out their base
of operations. Maybe you're just an innocent bystander, but that's for higher
authority to figure out. Let's go; we're wasting time."
"If you're after
smugglers, you're scaling the wrong molehill," Colonel Suash demurred.
"I happen to be a legitimate rebel leader, and my work is here. Beside
which, I outrank you."
Yubb cocked his pistol.
"I hate these jurisdictional disputes," he sighed. "But
fortunately for the triumph of democratic processes, I happen to have the
firepower. So—"
"I wouldn't, if I
were you, Ensign," Retief said as Yubb's finger tightened on the trigger.
"Why not?"
the officer inquired.
"Because if you
do," a new voice explained from the underbrush, "then/will."
"My loyal lads,
back on duty!" Suash cried. "Yubb, surrender instantly and I'll try
to prevent them from committing any excesses!"
"At the first sign
of an excess, they'll be looking for a new boss." Yubb held the pistol
firm on Suash's cummerbund.
"Hold your
fire!" Suash yelped to his troops.
"You bet we
will," the reply came from the darkness. "We're not letting this
stranger plug you, Colonel; we want to do the job ourselves!"
"The rot's struck
deeper than I thought," Suash muttered. "Well, Ensign, it looks like
a standoff. Just give me and my Groaci advisers a modest head start over my
chaps, and—"
"The Groaci are
my
prisoners," Yubb cut in curtly. "You can have the Terry."
"Who wants
him?" Suash exploded. "The creepy little spy's already blown my
security sky-high!"
One of Yubb's patrolmen
edged forward. "Why don't we draw straws?" he suggested with a glance
over his shoulder at the shrubbery concealing the rebel troops. "We
wouldn't want any unfortunate incident to take place—"
"At the first
shot, rake the woods with fire!" Yubb yelled. "I'm taking the Groaci,
and that's that!"
"I'm keeping him,
and that's that!" Suash shouted.
"Just my
luck," Gloot said lugubriously. "Square in the middle of the
crossfire."
"By the way, which
one's the Groaci?" Yubb's second-in-command wondered aloud.
"The little one
with the five wiggly eyes," someone called from the darkness.
"Wrong, it's the
big ones with only two arms," someone else contradicted.
"Are you nuts?
Everybody knows Groaci have got five eyes—"
"They're fakes! I
heard—" "I happen to know—"
"My brother-in-law
had it on good authority—"
"Your
brother-in-law wears ankle socks!"
"Oh, yeah?"
One of Suash's mutinous troops emerged from concealment to confront his verbal
adversary. A second rebel followed; a trio of Yubb's marines drew together to
confront them. A sailor pushed a soldier; a soldier shoved a sailor.
"Now, lads, no fighting,
it's unmilitary," Suash called.
"Sink the
Navy!" someone shouted, a proposal followed instantly by the smack of a
fist on leathery hide; at once, the underbrush erupted into a free-for-all;
fists flew, some, Retief noted, well into the woods. Yubb and Suash danced
about the periphery of the fray, bellowing orders, then fell on each other with
flailing arms. Unnoticed by the combatants, Pilth whirled and scuttled off down
the trail leading to the interior.
"Nice night for a
riot," Retief said over the clamor. "I suppose they'll be happily
occupied for some time, so we may as well be on our way."
"Jeez, I'd sure
like to join in," Gloot sighed, eyeing the battle enviously and massaging
a number of lumpy fists. "But I guess you're right: We better steal down
to the beach while the stealing's good."
"A splendid
notion," Magnan said quickly. "Speaking of stealing, if we hurry we
might be able to borrow the patrol boat; much faster than rowing, and far less
conducive to blisters."
"On the other
hand," Retief pointed out, "I suspect Colonel Suash and his troops
are stationed here for a reason—presumably guard duty. If we knew what he was
guarding, it would spice up our report on our field trip."
"Yes, but in this
wilderness. . . ." Magnan said indecisively.