Authors: Keith Laumer
"I'm curious as to
where Pilth was headed in such haste. If we follow him, we might find answers
to both questions."
"He's gone nuts is
all," Gloot explained. "He panicked and headed for the deep swamp.
Forget the Terry; we can still make it back to town in time to get in on the
Midnight Melee."
"I have a feeling
a somewhat larger melee is in the making, nearer at hand."
"A rumble in town
is worth two in the bushes, as the old saying goes," Gloot said. "On
the other hand, I kind of like your style, Retief. You don't say much, but
where you are is where stuff seems to happen. I'm with you!"
Together, Retief,
Magnan, and Gloot set off in the wake of the Groaci
agent provocateur
.
The path, while narrow, was high and dry, twisting and turning to avoid the
boles of giant, moss-hung trees rising from the dark water, skirting the deeper
pools. In a small, open patch of spongy ground the trail ended abruptly. There
was no sign of Pilth.
"Well, whattaya
know," Gloot commented, peering into the surrounding darkness. "Who would
of thought the little Terry was that fast on his feet? He's gone and got clean
away, so I guess we might as well get started back—"
"Listen,"
Retief said softly. From somewhere ahead, a faint cry rang out. He started off
at a run, picking a route from one root-clump to another. A hundred feet
farther on, he emerged into the open to witness a curious sight; from a sturdy
bough overhanging the path, Pilth dangled by one leg in midair, supported in an
inverted position by a length of stout rope.
"Good of you to
wait, Pilth," Retief said. "An excellent spot for a confidential
talk."
"To cut me down at
once and to enjoy the eternal gratitude of the Groacian state, renewable
annually at a modest fee," the snared alien whispered.
"Stumbled over one
of your own trip wires, eh?" Retief said sympathetically. "It's one
of the hazards of the diplomatic way of life."
"What is this talk
of diplomatic wiles? As it happens, I am a simple scientist, here to observe
the nest-building habits of the Lesser Tufted Adam's Apple—"
"Sorry, Pilth, an
ingenious cover, but blown, I'm afraid. We met a few years back, when you were
number two to General Fiss, the time he tried to take over Yale."
"Tour Director
Fiss and I were interested only in the excavation of artifacts of the Yalcan
culture!" Pilth protested.
"You Groaci have
pioneered the science of instant archaeology, true," Retief conceded,
"but good form requires that you wait until the owners aren't using the
bones any longer before you try to wire them together in a glass case. However,
we have more immediate matters to discuss at the moment. Let's begin with where
you were headed in such haste."
"I find it
singularly difficult to marshal my recollective faculties while suspended in
this unseemly position," the Groaci hissed.
"You'd find it
even more difficult if the point of attachment were your third thoracic
vertebra," Retief pointed out.
"Long will this
day live in infamy," Pilth wailed. "Very well, Terry, I'll reveal my
destination, but only under protest. As it happens, I maintain a modest retreat
in the foothills above, to which I retire on occasion to meditate. Now cut me
down promptly and in my report I'll do my best to minimize the shabby role you
played in this sorry contretemps!"
"Too late for
secrecy now," Retief said as Gloot and Magnan arrived panting, splashed
with mud and festooned with algae.
"Well," the
first secretary said as he spied the dangling alien, "at least he had the
decency to attempt suicide—though one might have known he'd bungle it."
"You speak of
suicide, soft one?" Pilth keened. "Such
indeed is the fate of
those who would invade the sacrosanct precincts of, ah, my bucolic
hideaway," he finished weakly.
"Don't imagine for
a moment that your threats intimidate me," Magnan replied loftily.
"It's just that we happen to be leaving now anyway. Come, Retief, suitably
padded—discussed in adequate detail, that is—my report of the disasters we've
encountered up to this point will serve adequately to impress the ambassador
with my zeal."
"An inspiring
thought, Mr. Magnan. Just picture his expression when you tell him you've
discovered there may be a plot afoot to take over Lumbaga, and that you hurried
back to let him know, without wasting time finding out when, where, why, and
how."
"But, as I was
about to say," Magnan said quickly, "why dash off just when we're on
the verge of achieving a coup of such stunning proportions?"
"Now, just how
would one go about finding this weekend cottage of yours?" Retief queried
Pilth.
"You imagine,
presumptuous alien, that I would reveal details of my personal affairs to such
as you?"
"My mistake,
Pilth." Retief turned to Magnan and Gloot. "It seems we'll have to
find it on our own. Shall we go, gentlemen?"
"What—and leave me
here suspended, prey to any passing appetite, to say nothing of the risk of
incipient apoplexy?" Pilth shrilled in protest.
"Yeah, that would
be cruel," Gloot said and drew his knife. "I'll just slit the
sucker's throat(tm)"
"Oh, I don't think
that will be necessary," Magnan said judiciously, as Pilth uttered a yelp
of dismay. "Just cut him down, truss him securely, and tuck him under a
bush well out of sight."
"There to starve,
assuming the unlikely eventuality that I'm overlooked by predators?"
"We'll leave the
details to you, chum," Gloot said callously.
"I
capitulate!" the Groaci hissed. "Proceed northeast by east to a lone
foof
tree, take a right, proceed another hundred paces upslope, and you will
confront my private lair. I appeal to your better natures to pry then no more,
but to betake yourselves in haste to more congenial surroundings, there to
report favorably on this concrete evidence of the importance of the reflective
life in the philosophy of the benign Groaci!"
"I don't get
it," Gloot said. "How come this Terry's all the time putting in a
plug for you Groaci?"
"Conscience,"
Magnan said crisply. "I suppose you may as well cut him loose now—provided
he promises not to go scuttling ahead and spoil our surprise."
"I assure you I
will scuttle in another direction entirely," Pilth whispered as Gloot
slashed the rope, allowing him to drop to the ground with a painful impact. He
sprang up and disappeared along the backtrail.
"I'm not sure that
was the best move we've made all evening," Retief said. "But I
suspect we'll know for sure very soon. Meanwhile, let's go take a look."
A dim light glowed from
a point high above, shining down through the trees dotting the steeply rising
slope.
"Well, whattaya
know," Gloot said. "I thought the little runt was lying, but here's
his meditation parlor, just like he said."
"Why, the very
idea," Magnan whispered. "Ambassador Jith never mentioned funding any
R and R facilities in the hustings."
They emerged onto a
talus slope. From here they were able to make out the silhouette of a cluster
of towers rising from the crest of the peak. The lighted window went dark; a
moment later a glow sprang up at another.
"Apparently Pilth
doesn't do his thinking alone," Retief said.
"If the place is
full o' Terries," Gloot said, "what's supposed to keep 'em from
blasting us into Freebies before you can say 'oops'?"
"Nothing much;
accordingly, I recommend extreme stealth from this point on."
Twenty feet higher,
they encountered a flight of narrow steps cut into the stone. Retief climbed
over the handrail, which was beaded with moisture in the damp air, and led the
way upward, Gloot and Magnan close behind him. At a landing twenty feet higher
the steps took a right-angled turn. The drop below was vertical now; the tops
of trees rustled in the faint breeze. Far below a cluster of lanterns moved on
the shore. Far across the water, the lights of the capital floated on
blackness.
"Hey,
Retief," Gloot whispered, "I get dizzy when I get this high. I would
have told you sooner, only I never got this high before."
"Compared with the
roofs we were negotiating a few hours ago, this is nothing," Retief said.
Gloot groaned.
"Was that this year? It seems like something out of my early youth. Never
mind," he muttered. "The more I know, the less I like it. I'm even
beginning to get a funny feeling it was your idea and not mine to grab you from
Groaci HQ."
At the next landing, by
leaning far out over the rail to look up, Retief was able to see a row of shuttered
windows set in a squat, thick-walled structure of a bilious ocher color. The
building appeared to consist of several wings, set at slightly different levels
in accommodation to the contours of the rugged peak on which it was built.
"Quite a
layout," Gloot started, and broke off as feet clacked above. A spindly
figure in a flaring helmet and a spined hip-cloak leaned over the railing of a
terrace, peering down the barrel of a blast-rifle with five alertly canted
oculars.
"Hssst! To advance
and give the password!" a thin voice whispered sibilantly.
"To contain
yourself in patience, hivemate of brood foul-ers," Retief whispered
sharply in Groaci. "To have had a brisk trot to report the failure of the
incompetent Nith! To require a moment in which to respire!" He motioned to
Gloot. "You go first," he whispered softly. "Pretend to be
scared."
"Pretend?"
The Lumbagan choked. "I'm petrified! But what the heck, I don't aim to
show the purple glimp feather. Here goes."
"The impropriety
of your nattering—and my curiosity as to whom you natter with!" the Groaci
peacekeeper hissed.
"The prompt
satisfaction of your curiosity," Retief called back, motioning Gloot past.
He followed up the final flight of steps. As the Lumbagan reached the sentry's
terrace, the latter hissed and swung the gun to cover him.
"The impropriety
of taking hasty action," Retief said sharply. The guard swiveled a pair of
eyes toward him, and uttered a faint Groaci yelp of dismay.
"A Soft One—"
he started, but his feeble cry was cut off abruptly by a smart rap to the side
of the jaw delivered by Gloot. Retief deftly caught the victim's helmet as he
collapsed.
Retief quickly scouted
the narrow gallery on which they now found themselves. From the platform at the
end, a complicated system of rods was visible atop a tower.
"Curious,"
Magnan whispered. "Trideo antennae here? I wasn't aware Lumbaga boasted
transmission facilities."
"I have an idea
the transmitter hasn't gone into full service yet," Retief said. Further
discussion was interrupted by a faint whop-whop-whop which grew swiftly louder.
A copter came sweeping in low over the treetops, made a sliding turn, and came
back to hover for a moment before settling gently to the roof of the building.
Before the rotors had stopped, the pilot—a small, thin-legged individual
wrapped in a black cloak and wearing a solar topi—hopped down and disappeared
into the shadows. A moment later, light shone from an opened hatch in the roof,
into which the new arrival descended, closing the panel behind him.
"I believe that
was the same chap we just missed meeting back on Groo-groo," Retief said.
"An omission I'd like to correct."
"Too bad it's
impossible," Magnan said crisply. "Still, if we hasten back now, we
may be able to see the ambassador and persuade him to request departmental
approval for authorizing an inquiry into the possibility of considering the
appointment of a committee to look into a proposal for asking Jith some rather
pointed questions."
"A dynamic
program, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "But we might save a little time
by some judicious eavesdropping right here on the spot."
"Hmmm. An
interesting theoretical point. A pity we didn't bring snoop gear, but who would
have imagined any occasion for diplomatic activities this far from the nearest
cocktail party?"
"An unfortunate
oversight; but possibly we can rectify it by shinnying up the drain pipe."
"Drat it, Retief,
I'm beginning to suspect that the hazards of being rescued by you exceed those
threatened by the kidnappers!"
"Give me a leg up,
Gloot," Retief said.
"Anything for you,
pal," the local said dubiously, grasping his shin firmly. "But are
you sure you can use it?"
"On second
thought, just a boost will do," Retief amended. Gloot offered linked hands
as a stirrup; Retief went up the pipe. The roof was deserted but for the silent
copter squatting inside a yellow-painted circle. He leaned back to lend a hand
to Magnan, then to Gloot. Together they crossed to the trapdoor. It opened
soundlessly. Steep steps led down into deep gloom.
"I dunno,"
Gloot said, looking dubiously down into the dark recess below. "What if
it's booby-trapped? What if they're waiting down there with skinning knives?
What if the whole thing is a fancy scheme to feed fresh spares into the black market?
What if—"