Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude (2 page)

            "Making
friends with
that
monster," Magnan said harshly. "So that's
what you were doing all those times I noticed you slipping away from the group
at odd hours. I thought—and so did Ambassador Grossblunder, I fear—that you were
carrying on an illicit liaison with Miss Ripetree."

            "Did
you give His Excellency that idea?" Retief inquired. "Or was it a
case of independent inspiration?"

            "Oh,
I may have commented casually on your zeal," Magnan acknowledged. "I
felt your devotion to, ah, duty shouldn't go unnoticed."

            "I
wondered why he ordered me under close arrest."

            "And
here you are, Retief, not merely trapped by a hungry tiggle, but braving the
wrath of an aroused Ambassador!"

            "Now,
Mr. Magnan," Retief said, stroking the tiger's sleek head. "As I've
shown you, Gertrude isn't always as ferocious as she looks."

            "That's
all very well for
you."
Magnan sniffed. "But the moment / set
foot down there, that monster will rend me limb from limb. I presume she's one
of those—I believe 'man-eaters' is the colorful term they used in the old
days."

            "She'd
rather have a truckload of horse guts than a slender diplomat," Retief
pointed out. "But no doubt she'd settle for you in the absence of a dump
truck."

            "So—I
repeat:" Magnan yelped.
"Do
something! Gracious, Retief, this
time we're really in a pickle!

            I
thought we were goners that time on Roolit I when those two beaked horrors
sprang out at us— and again, the time at Verdigris when we found that ancient
tomb full of homicidal machines. And what about that awful moment when we saw
Renfrew—that ghastly mummy, strapped into his pilot's seat in the jungle at
Yudore? But of course all eventuated quite nicely," he went on more
calmly, "else we'd not have survived to be mauled by
that
horrid
great monster!" Magnan stared with fascinated disapproval at the big cat
who looked up at him and yawned.

            "So
much for reminiscence," Magnan concluded. "But this time I fear
there's little hope of rescue. His Excellency and the entire staff are totally
involved with the preparations for the pageant, and contending with the press,
so that our absence won't be noticed for hours—if not days. It does seem a
cruel fate for harmless diplomats merely out for a stroll after the ordeal of a
long crossing. And however do you suppose Gertrude happened to be roving loose
at the same moment?"

            "As
to the latter point," Retief offered, "I was feeding Gertie when your
urgent summons was delivered. I requested a half-hour's grace, I'm sure you
recall, but you were quite adamant."

            "I
had no intention of venturing out on the surface of a virtually unknown world
alone," Magnan stated firmly. "And of course, I assumed you were as
eager as I to breathe a bit of fresh air, even with its slight chlorine
content. Naturally, I had no idea that you had just stepped out of the
monster's cage when your escort arrived, leaving the door ajar."

            "It
wasn't precisely ajar, Mr. Magnan," Retief corrected. "Just on
half-latch, since I intended to return immediately: that was before the armed
guard arrived to escort me. Gertie was lonely, so she broke the latch and
followed."

            "It
was essential to seize the opportunity for our constitutional while weather
conditions were favorable," Magnan explained impatiently.

            "You
mean while His Ex wasn't looking," Retief suggested.

            "Well,
of course, one dislikes to trouble an Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister
Plenipotentiary with trifling requests for permission to disembark,"
Magnan pointed out. "But enough of these recriminations: what are we to do
now?"

            Before
Retief could answer, the stillness was broken by a yowl from beyond the cave
mouth, a long-drawn-out cry which started as a shrill scream and descended the
scale to a low rumble.

            "Oh,
dear," Magnan blurted. "It appears there is local wildlife as well as
our imported form. I don't suppose there's a back way out of this cave?"

            At
the screech, the tiger had spun to face the entry and crouched, her striped
tail lashing, her jaws agape. At a second cry, she advanced, stood for a moment
silhouetted in the opening against the greenish sky. Then, beyond her, a great
maned beast came into view, its bared fangs even longer than the tiger's.

            "Great
Heavens, Retief!" Magnan blurted. "Do you suppose that creature is
going to come in here? Why, it's even bigger than Gertrude! And at least as
ferocious looking. Actually, it looks rather like her, except for being green
with pink spots, of course."

            Gertie
growled, gathering her feet under her for a rush.

            "Retief!
Stop her!" Magnan yelped. "She'll be killed! Though of course,"
he went on after a moment's reflection, "then we'd be safe—unless, of
course, that awful creature should attack us next. Somehow, I prefer
Gertrude." Magnan broke off to call soothingly to the tiger. "Down,
Kitty, just relax; no need to venture out there just now."

            The
tiger acknowledged Magnan's attentions by looking back over her shoulder at the
slightly-built diplomat perched above her; then she returned her attention to
the intruder now coming warily into the shadowy entrance to the cave. Gertie
advanced a step to meet it, sniffed, then turned and retreated to the cave's
deepest recess. The newcomer came forward a step, then lowered its haunches,
wrinkled its nose and uttered a pun-even louder than Gertrude's.

            "Worse
and worse," Magnan mourned. "It appears to be settling down for an
extended visit— and even the tiggle is intimidated by it. Retief! You'd best
come up here with me—at once, before it notices you."

            From
the dense blackness of the niche where she had taken refuge, Gertie uttered a
low, moaning growl, then emerged suddenly and bounded past the pink and green
beast, accidently bowling him over with a glancing blow of her hindquarters.
The alien carnivore scrambled up with a yowl, but Gertie was already gone, out
into the glare of sunlight. Cautiously, the intruder followed, sniffing
audibly; as it passed beyond the entry, Gertrude sprang from concealment,
struck an almost playful blow with one mighty paw, knocking the pink and green
horror aside; it leaped after her as she bounded away, out of sight. A moment
later there was an outburst of snarls mingled with screams, and the sounds of
heavy bodies impacting.

            "Good
lord, she'll be killed!" Magnan wailed. "The last of her kind, dying
on a minor planet, done in by a casual passer-by. Too tragic."

            "Maybe
not," Retief replied as he reached the cavemouth and looked out. "She
seems to be holding her own, at least."

            Magnan
came up to peer over his junior's shoulder. The two great meat-eaters were
facing each other at a distance of six feet, breathing hard, tails lashing.

            "A
remarkable example of convergent evolution," Magnan commented. "But
then I suppose the optimum mechanism for catching and eating animal life is
bound to be much the same anywhere Terrestrial-like conditions obtain."

            "It
looks like a draw," Retief said. "Neither one seems inclined to
attack."

            "And
we can seize the opportunity to slip away," Magnan pointed out.
"Quietly, now, Retief, while they're not looking."

            As
Magnan stepped past Retief and started across the flat, rocky ledge before the
cave, a harsh voice called after him in bad Terran:

            "Hey,
you in the fancy pants! Hold it right there! I got a couple questions to ast
you boys." Magnan whirled, an astonished query on his lips, to see the
alien combatant approaching him, a purposeful look on its cat-like face. For
the first time Magnan noticed a broad leather strap across the creature's
chest, adorned with a large, shiny badge. Gertrude sat where she had been,
calmly licking her fur.

            "Merciful
heavens," Magnan wailed. "It would seem that the tiggle has assaulted
a member of the local constabulary! Ah, sir," he went on, more briskly,
"it's all a trivial misunderstanding. You see, my colleague and I were
simply admiring some unusual geological formations in the cave just here,
and—"

            "You
got maybe a license you should go prospecting on Glorbian turf?" the cop
demanded belligerently.

            "You
mistake my meaning, sir," Magnan pointed out, using a modified 397-B
(Righteous Outrage Under Strict Control by Superior Strength of Character).

            "Don't
overdo that three-ninety-seven, Mr. Magnan," Retief suggested. "He
might mistake it for a six-oh-two."

            "Knowledge
of Moral Rectitude Pushed Beyond Endurance?" Magnan queried, shocked.

            "No,
more like Resisting Arrest Without Enough Muscle to Make it Stick," Retief
corrected.

            "That's
enough backchat, you two," the visibly annoyed constable cut in.
"What kind life-form are you, anyways?" The big alien feline wrinkled
its pink and green face at them.

            "Goodness,"
Magnan blurted, backing away. "I hope it doesn't bite—"

            "Not
unless the prospective bitee has got more meat on it than you, skinny-britches!
By the way, what's the idea calling me 'it', instead of 'he'? You think I'm
some kind animal or something?"

            "Not
at all, Chief," Magnan put in soothingly.

            "But
I
was
deeply impressed by the fashion in which you interacted with
Gertrude."

            "You
mean that yeller-an-black female that give me a dislocated mooby-bone?"
the cop demanded, turning to eye the tiger which was now hovering moodily in
the middle distance.

            "She's
a looker, I'll give her that, in spite of the funny color-scheme—not that I'm
one of them racists," he finished almost defensively. "What's she
doing, hanging out with you boys?"

            "Just
friends, sir," Magnan explained.

            "Somebody
oughta tip the kid to watch out for bad companions," the cop grunted.

            "It's
been charming, chatting with you, sir," Magnan gushed, edging away.
"But my colleague and I must be off now. We've preparations to make for
the pageant, you know,"

            "I
shoulda figgered you outlanders was here for the big cheesecake show," the
officer conceded. "Me, I'm in that project, too. In fact, I'm my union's
rep on the Preliminary Panel. We weed out the real dogs, you know. By the way,
Yong's the handle," he told Magnan. "I'm a member of the noble tribe
of Vang," he went on. "Now you aliens have to understand the
situation here on Boondock IV—or Glorb, the skinny five-eyes decided to call
it, just because the spot they happened to land and build their town on was in
the territory of the Glorbs—now, they're stubby little devils, used to live by
dacoit attacks on peaceful villages and trade caravans. Us other six or eight
tribes had no use for 'em. But the Groaci set up this like planetary
government, they call it, and put the Glorbs in charge. Worked out a deal with
the little skunks to help 'em loot Boondock in return for being the top tribe.
They been harrassing the rest of us native Boondockers ever since— but I guess
you boys aren't interested in our problems—"

            "On
the contrary, my dear Constable," Magnan rebutted. "As diplomats it
is precisely such chicanery on the part of the Groaci, the ferreting out of and
rectifying of, to which we are dedicated!"

            "Huh?"
Yong commented. "I guess maybe you're talking too fast, pal. I didn't
quite catch that. Well, ta.

            The
now affable cop turned and moved with feline grace across to where Gertrude
turned to meet him, fangs-first. The cop stopped short of combat and uttered a
plaintive-sounding cry, to which Gertrude replied with a lift of her nose and a
curt twitch of her tail, before turning to stroll away, disappearing among the
gullies of the craggy landscape.

            "Heavens!"
Magnan commented behind his hand, "imagine that uncouth flatfoot included
among those sitting in judgment on the Galaxy's premier beauties!
Shocking!"

            Ten
minutes later, back at the bustle of activity among the colorful pavilions
erected by the landing crew around the base of the Corps Transport, in position
in line with the other visiting vessels, Magnan, pausing only to recommend to
Retief that he see to the recaging of Gertrude at once, hurried away in search
of the Director of Public Relations.

            "Ah,
there you are, Roy," he cried on espying the short portly ad man, who was
surrounded by a varied assortment of alien reportorial personnel, all clamoring
at once for a reply to some vital question. These were couched in some three
dozen totally unrelated languages, a circumstance which had caused the
translator to fuse its main unscrambler circuitry to the accompaniment of an
emission of pungent fumes, occasioning an outburst of coughing, likewise in
thirty-six alien modes, ranging from the shrill whistles of a diminutive Phip
to the basso roars of a hulking, shaggy green Hondu sports editor.