Authors: Keith Laumer
"Sorry, fellow," he
muttered between his clenched teeth. "Eye-gouging isn't gentlemanly, but
it's effective. . . ."
The Flap-jack fell still; only its
fringes rippling slowly. Retief relaxed the pressure of his thumb. The
creature gave a tentative jerk; the thumb dug in. The Flap-jack went limp
again, waiting.
"Now that we understand each
other," said Retief, "lead me to your headquarters."
Twenty minutes' walk into the
desert brought Retief to a low rampart of thorn branches: the Flap-jacks' outer
defensive line against Terry forays. It would be as good a place as any to
wait for the next move by the Flap-jacks. He sat down, eased the weight of his
captive off his back, keeping a firm thumb in place. If his analysis of the
situation was correct, a Flap-jack picket should be along before too
long. ...
A penetrating beam of red light
struck Retief in the face, then blinked off. He got to his feet. The captive
Flap-jack rippled its fringe in an agitated way. Retief tensed his thumb.
"Sit tight," he said.
"Don't try to do anything hasty. . . ." His remarks were falling on
deaf ears—or no ears at all- but the thumb spoke as loudly as words.
There was a slither of sand, then
another. Retief became aware of a ring of presences drawing closer.
Retief tightened his grip on the
creature. He could see a dark shape now, looming up almost to his own
six-three. It appeared that the Flap-jacks came in all sizes.
A low rumble sounded, like a
deep-throated growl. It strummed on, then faded out. Retief cocked his head,
frowning.
"Try it two octaves
higher," he said.
"Awwrrp! Sorry. Is that
better?" a clear voice came from the darkness.
"That's fine," Retief
said. "I'm here to arrange an exchange of prisoners."
"Prisoners? But we have no
prisoners."
"Sure you have. Me. Is it a
deal?"
"Ah, yes, of course. Quite
equitable. What guarantees do you require?"
"The word of a gentleman is
sufficient." Retief released his captive. It flopped once and disappeared
into the darkness.
"If you'd care to accompany me
to our headquarters," the voice said, "we can discuss our mutual
concerns in comfort."
"Delighted."
Red lights blinked briefly. Retief,
glimpsing a gap in the thorny barrier, stepped through it. He followed dim
shapes across warm sand to a low cave-like entry, faintly lit with a reddish
glow.
"I must apologize for the
awkward design of our comfort- dome," said the voice. "Had we known
we would be honored by a visit."
"Think nothing of it,"
Retief said. "We diplomats are trained to crawl."
Inside, with knees bent and head
ducked under the five- foot ceiling, Retief looked around at the walls of
pink-toned nacre, a floor like burgundy-colored glass spread with silken rugs,
and a low table of polished red granite set out with silver dishes and
rose-crystal drinking tubes.
"Let me congratulate
you," the voice said. Retief turned. An immense Flap-jack, hung with
crimson trappings, rippled at his side. The voice issued from a disk strapped
to its back. "Your skirmish-forms fight well. I think we will find in each
other worthy adversaries."
"Thanks. I'm sure the test
would be interesting, but I'm hoping we can avoid it."
"Avoid it?" Retief heard
a low humming coming from the speaker in the silence. "Well, let us
dine," the mighty Flapjack said at last, "we can resolve these
matters later. I am called Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns."
"I'm Retief." Hoshick
waited expectantly. "... of the Mountain of Red Tape," Retief added.
"Take your place,
Retief," said Hoshick. "I hope you won't find our rude couches
uncomfortable." Two other large Flap-jacks came into the room and communed
silently with Hoshick. "Pray forgive our lack of translating
devices," he said to Retief. "Permit me to introduce my
colleagues."
A small Flap-jack rippled into the
chamber bearing on its back a silver tray, laden with aromatic food. The waiter
served the diners and filled the drinking tubes with yellow wine.
"I trust you’ll find these
dishes palatable," Hoshick said. "Our metabolisms are much alike, I
believe." Retief tried the food; it had a delicious nut-like flavor. The
wine was indistinguishable from Chateau d'Yquem.
"It was an unexpected pleasure
to encounter your party here," Hoshick said. "I confess at first we
took you for an indigenous earth-grubbing form, but we were soon disabused of
that notion." He raised a tube, manipulating it deftly with his fringe
tentacles. Retief returned the salute and drank.
"Of course," Hoshick
continued, "as soon as we realized that you were sportsmen like ourselves,
we attempted to make amends by providing a bit of activity for you. We've
ordered out our heavier equipment and a few trained skirmishers and soon we'll
be able to give you an adequate show, or so I hope."
"Additional skirmishers?"
said Retief. "How many, if you don't mind my asking?"
"For the moment, perhaps only
a few hundred. Thereafter . . . well, I'm sure we can arrange that between us.
Personally I would prefer a contest of limited scope—no nuclear or
radiation-effect weapons. Such a bore, screening the spawn for deviations.
Though I confess we've come upon some remarkably useful sports: the ranger-form
such as you made captive, for example. Simple-minded, of course, but a
fantastically keen tracker."
"Oh, by all means,"
Retief said. "No atomics. As you pointed out, spawn-sorting is a nuisance,
and then too, it's wasteful of troops."
"Ah, well, they are after all
expendable. But we agree, no atomics. Have you tried the ground-gwack eggs?
Rather a speciality of my Mosaic ..."
"Delicious," said Retief.
"I wonder if you've considered eliminating weapons altogether?"
A scratchy sound issued from the
disk. "Pardon my laughter," Hoshick said, "but surely you
jest?"
"As a matter of fact,"
said Retief, "we ourselves try to avoid the use of weapons."
"I seem to recall that our
first contact of skirmish-forms involved the use of a weapon by one of your
units."
"My apologies," said
Retief. "The—ah—skirmish-form failed to recognize that he was dealing with
a sportsman."
"Still, now that we have
commenced so merrily with weapons . . ." Hoshick signaled and die servant
refilled the drinking tubes.
"There is an aspect I haven't
yet mentioned," Retief went on. "I hope you won't take this
personally, but the fact is, our skirmish-forms think of weapons as something
one employs only in dealing with certain specific life-forms."
"Oh? Curious. What forms are
those?"
"Vermin. Deadly antagonists,
but lacking in caste. I don't want our skirmish-forms thinking of such worthy
adversaries as yourself as vermin."
"Dear me! I hadn't realized,
of course. Most considerate of you to point it out." Hoshick clucked in
dismay. "I see that skirmish-forms are much the same among you as with us:
lacking in perception." He laughed scratchily.
"Which brings us to the crux
of the matter," Retief said. "You see, we're up against a serious
problem with regard to skirmish-forms: a low birth rate. Therefore we've
reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actions so dear to the heart of
the sportsman. We've attempted to put an end to these contests altogether . .
."
Hoshick coughed explosively,
sending a spray of wine into the air. "What are you saying?" he
gasped. "Are you proposing that Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns
abandon honor?"
"Sir!" said Retief
sternly. "You forget yourself. I, Retief of the Red Tape, merely make an
alternate proposal more in keeping with the newest sporting principles."
"New?" cried Hoshick.
"My dear Retief, what a pleasant surprise! I'm enthralled with novel
modes. One gets so out of touch. Do elaborate."
"It's quite simple, really.
Each side selects a representative and the two individuals settle the issue
between them."
"I . . um . . I'm afraid I
don't understand. What possible significance could one attach to the activities
of a couple of random skirmish-forms?"
"I haven't made myself
clear," Retief said. He took a sip of wine. "We don't involve the
skirmish-forms at all; that's quite passé."
"You don't mean . . . ?"
"That's, right. You and
me."
Outside the starlit sand Retief
tossed aside the power pistol and followed it with the leather shirt Swazey had
lent him. By the faint light he could just make out the towering figure of the
Flap-jack rearing up before him, his trappings gone. A silent rank of Flap-jack
retainers were grouped behind him.
"I fear I must lay aside the
translator now, Retief," said Hoshick. He sighed and rippled his fringe
tentacles. "My spawn-fellows will never credit this. Such a curious turn
fashion has taken. How much more pleasant it is to observe the action from a
distance."
"I suggest we use Tennessee
rules," said Retief. "They're very liberal: biting, gouging,
stomping, kneeling, and, of course, choking, as well as the usual punching,
shoving, and kicking."
"Hmmm. These gambits seem
geared to forms employing rigid endo-skeletons; I fear I shall be at a
disadvantage."
"Of course," Retief said,
"if you'd prefer a more plebeian type of contest . . ."
"By no means. But perhaps we
could rule out tentacle- twisting, just to even the balance."
"Very well. Shall we
begin?"
With a rush Hoshick threw himself
at Retief, who ducked, whirled, and leaped on the Flap-jack's back—and felt
himself flipped clear by a mighty ripple of the alien's slab-like body. Retief
rolled aside as Hoshick turned on him, jumped to his feet, and threw a punch to
Hoshick's mid-section. The alien whipped his left fringe around in an arc that
connected with Retief's jaw, spinning onto his back. Hoshick's weight struck
Retief like a dumptruck-load of concrete. Retief twisted, trying to roll. The
flat body of the creature blanketed him. He worked an arm free and drummed
blows on the leathery back. Hoshick nestled closer.
Retief's air was running out. He
heaved up against the smothering weight; nothing budged. He was wasting
his" strength.
He remembered the ranger-form he
had captured. The sensitive orifice had been placed ventrally, in what would be
the thoracic area. . . .
He groped, feeling tough hide set
with horny granules. He would be missing skin tomorrow—if there was a tomorrow.
His thumb found the orifice, and he probed.
The Flap-jack recoiled. Retief held
fast, probed deeper, groping with the other hand. If the creature were
bilaterally symmetrical there would be a set of ready-made handholds. . . .
There were. Retief dug in and the
Flap-jack writhed and pulled away. Retief held on, scrambled to his feet, threw
his weight against Hoshick, and fell on top of him, still gouging. Hoshick
rippled his fringe wildly, flopped in distress, then went limp. Retief
relaxed, released his hold, and got to his feet, breathing hard. Hoshick humped
himself over onto his ventral side, lifted, and moved gingerly over to the
sidelines. His retainers came forward, assisted him into his trappings, and
strapped on the translator. He sighed heavily, adjusting the volume.
"There is much to be said for
the old system," he said. "What a burden one's sportsmanship places
on one at times."
"Great fun, wasn't it?"
said Retief. "Now, I know you'll be eager to continue. If you'll just wait
while I run back and fetch some of our gouger-forms—"
"May hide-ticks devour the
gouger-forms!" Hoshick bellowed. "You've given me such a sprong-ache
as I'll remember each spawning-time for a year."
"Speaking of hide-ticks,"
said Retief, "we've developed a biter-form—"
"Enough!" Hoshick roared
so loudly that the translator bounced on his hide. "Suddenly I yearn for
the crowded yellow sands of Jaq. I had hoped . . ." He broke off, drawing
a rasping breath. "I had hoped, Retief," he said, speaking sadly now,
"to find a new land here where I might plan my own Mosaic, till these
alien sands and bring forth such a crop of paradise-lichen as should glut the markets
of a hundred worlds. But my spirit is not equal to the prospect of biter-forms
and gouger-forms without end. I am shamed before you."
"To tell you the truth, I'm
old-fashioned myself," said Retief. "I'd rather watch the action from
a distance too."
"But surely your spawn-fellows
would never condone such an attitude."
"My spawn-fellows aren't here.
And besides, didn't I mention it? No one who's really in the know would think
of engaging in competition by mere combat if there were any other way. Now, you
mentioned tilling the sand, raising lichens—"
"That on which we dined,"
said Hoshick, "and from which the wine is made."
"The big trend in fashionable
diplomacy today is farming competition. Now, if you'd like to take these
deserts and raise lichen, well promise to stick to the oases and raise
vegetables."