Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude (21 page)

"On the
whole, Chief Boobooboo, the proposition doesn't sound overwhelmingly attractive."

"I
figure maybe you feel that way; so save snapper for end: you come here ask
about missing buddy? Monster in luck; get economical combination deal.
Kidnapped pal same place victuals. Get two for price of one."

"I
think," Retief said, "I've been outmaneuvered."

A quarter of
an hour later, Retief and Chief Boobooboo, attended by Zoof and the bulk of the
truncated tribesmen, stood in the shelter of a giant mumble tree, the soft
mutterings of its foliage covering the sound of their conversation.

"Straight
ahead, can't miss it," Boobooboo was saying. "But watch snares; you
get caught same way absent chum, deal off."

"Understood,
Chief. And you'll keep your people posted in position to create a diversion in
the event I have to leave the vicinity in haste."

"Correct;
we stand by, catch any wandering grub come galloping past."

"It's
been a pleasure dealing with you, Chief. If you ever decide to give up the
rural way of life, drop me a line. The Corps could use your talents instructing
a course in creative naiveté."

"Thanks,
Retief. Keep offer in mind in case present caper not pan out."

The forest
was silent as Retief made his way along the dimly marked trail, but for a
stealthy rustling in the undergrowth which ceased when he halted, began again
when he went on. He had covered perhaps a hundred and fifty yards when he
rounded an abrupt turn and was face to face with twelve feet of tusked
nightmare.

For a moment
Retief stood unmoving, studying the monstrosity looming gigantic ten feet away.
Its bleary, pinkish eyes, three in number, stared unwinking at him from a lumpy
face equipped with tufted whiskers placed at random around a vast, loose-lipped
mouth and a scattering of gaping nostrils. From its massive shoulders, immense
arms hung almost to the ground; three bowed legs supported the weight of a
powerfully muscled torso. The big fellow's generous pedal extremities were
housed in gigantic sneakers with round black reinforcing patches over the
anklebones. A long tail curled up over one clavicle, ending in a seven-fingered
hand with which the creature was exploring the interior of a large, pointed
ear. Other hands gripped a naked two-edged sword at least nine feet in length.

Retief took
a hand-rolled Jorgenson's cigar from an inside pocket, puffed it alight, blew
out pale violet smoke. "Nice night," he said.

The monster
drew a deep breath. "AHHHrrrghhh!" it bellowed.

"Sorry,"
Retief said, "I didn't quite catch that remark."

"AHHHrrrghhh!"
the creature repeated.

Retief shook
his head. "You're still not getting through."

"Ahhrrgh?"

"You do
it well," Retief said. "Exceptionally nice timbre. Real
feeling."

"You
really like it?" the giant said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.
"Gee, thanks a lot."

"I
don't know when I've seen it done better. But is that all there is?"

"You
mean it ain't enough?"

"I'm
perfectly satisfied," Retief assured his new acquaintance. "I just
wanted to be sure there wasn't an encore."

"I
practiced it plenty," the oversized Lumbagan said. "I wouldn't of
wanted to of did it wrong."

"Certainly
not. By the way, what does it mean?"

"How do
I know? Who tells me anything? I'm just old Smelch, which everybody pushes me
around on account of I'm easygoing, you know?"

"I
think I met a relative of yours in town, Smelch. Unfortunately I had to rush
away before we really had a chance to chat."

"Yeah?
Well, I heard a few of the boys was to of been took for a glom at the bright
lights. But not me. No such luck."

"You
don't happen to know who's been down for a barefoot stroll on the shore do you,
Smelch?" the Terran inquired casually. "A party with three-toed
feet."

"Three?
Lessee." Smelch's tail-mounted hand scratched at his mottled scalp with a
sound reminiscent of a spade striking marl. "That'd be more'n one, and
less than nine, right?"

"You're
narrowing the field," Retief said encouragingly.

"If I
just knew how many nine was, I'd be in business," Smelch muttered.
"That ain't nothing like say, six, fer example?"

"Close,
but no dope stick. Skip that point, Smelch, I didn't mean to get technical.
Were you waiting for anything special when I came along?"

"You
bet: my relief."

"When's
he due?"

"Well,
lessee: I come out here a while back, and been here for quite a time, so what
does that leave? Say—half a hour?"

"More
like a jiffy and a half, give or take a few shakes of a lamb's tail. What's up
at the top of the trail?"

"That's
what nobody ain't supposed to know."

"Why
not?"

"On
account of it's like a secret, see?"

"I'm
beginning to get a glimmering. Who says it's a secret?" Smelch's
fingernail abraded his chin with a loud reaching sound.

"That's
supposed to be another secret." Smelch's features rearranged themselves in
what might have been a puzzled frown. "What I can't figure is—if it's a
secret, how come you know about it?"

"Word
gets around," Retief said reassuringly. "OK if I go up and have a
look?"

"Maybe
you ought to identify yourself first. Not that I don't trust you, but you know
how it is."

"Certainly.
I'm Retief, Smelch." He shook the hand at the end of the tail, which
returned the grip firmly.

"Sorry
about the routine, Retief, but these days a guy can't be too careful."

"What
about?"

Smelch
blinked all three eyes in rotation, a vertiginous effect.

"I get
it," he said, "that's what you call a joke, right? I'm nuts about
jokes; only the trouble is usually nobody tells me about 'em in time to
laugh."

"It's a
problem that often plagues ambassadors, Smelch. But don't worry; I'll be sure
to tip you off in advance next time."

"Gee,
you're a all-right guy, Retief, even if you are kind of a runt and all, no
offense."

The sound of
heavy feet came from uptrail; a squat, five-foot figure lumbered into view, as
solidly built as Smelch but less beautiful, his various arms, legs, and ears
having been arranged with a fine disregard for standard patterns. One of his
five hands gripped a fifteen-foot harpoon; his four eyes, on six-inch stalks,
goggled atop a flattened skull which gave the appearance of having been matured
inside a hot-water bottle.

"About
time, Flunt," Smelch greeted the newcomer. "You're a shake and a half
late."

"Spare
me any carping criticisms," Flunt replied in a tone of long-suffering
weariness. "I've just come from an interview with that bossy little—"
He broke off, looking Retief up and down. "Well, you might at least offer
an introduction," he said sharply to Smelch, extending a hand to the diplomat.
"I'm Flunt. Pardon my appearance—" He indicated two uncombed fringes
of purplish-blue filaments springing from just below his cheekbones. "But
I just washed my hide and I can't do a thing with it."

"Not at
all," Retief said ambiguously, giving Flunt's feet a quick glance: they
were bare, and remarkably human-looking. "My name's Retief."

"Goodness,
I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Flunt said, looking questioningly
from one to the other.

"Not at
all. Smelch and I were just passing the time of night. Interesting little island,
Flunt. See many strangers here?"

"Gracious,
I hope not. I'm supposed to do dreadful things if I do—" Flunt broke off,
gave Retief a startled look. "Ah, you aren't by any chance a stranger . .
. ?"

"Are
you kidding?" Smelch spoke up. "He's Retief, like I told you."

"Just
so you're sure. Little Sir Nasty-nice wouldn't like it a bit if any outsiders
sneaked a peek at his precious whatever-it-is. Really, for this job one needs
eyes in the back of one's head!"

"Yeah,"
Smelch said. "Lucky you got 'em."

"Flunt,
do you know anyone with three-toed feet in these parts?" Retief asked.

"Three-toed
feet? Hmmm. They're a bit passe this season, of course—but I think I've seen a
few around. Why?" His voice lowered confidentially. "If you're
interested in picking up half a dozen at a bargain price, I think I may be able
to put you onto a good thing."

"I
might be," Retief said. "When could I meet the owners?"

"Oh, I
don't think you'd like that," Flunt said soberly. "No, I don't think
you'd like that at all, at all. And neither would little Mr. Sticky-fingers,
now that I reflect on it. Actually, I shouldn't have mentioned the matter. My
blunder. Forget I said anything about it."

"Come
on, Retief," Smelch said loudly. "Me and you'll just take a little
ankle up the trail, which I'll point out the points of interest and like
that." He gave the Terran an elaborate three-eyed wink.

"Capital
idea, Smelch," Retief agreed.

"Look
here, Smelch," Flunt said nervously, "you're not going to go sneaking
around you-know-where and getting you-know-who all upset about
you-know-what?"

"I
do?" Smelch looked pleased.

"Maybe
you don't; it's been dinned into your head hourly all your life, but then
you've only been around for a week ..." Flunt turned to Retief.

"I hate
to sound finicky, Retief, but if this ummyday tries to ipslay you into, well,
anyplace you shouldn't eebay, well . . . one has one's job to do." He
fingered the barbed head of his harpoon meaningfully.

"I can
give you a definite tentative hypothetical assurance on that," Retief said
crisply. "But don't hold me to it."

"Well,
in that case. . . ." Retief felt Flunt's eyes on him as he and Smelch
moved up the trail toward whatever lay above.

For the
first hundred yards, nothing untoward disturbed the silence of the forest at
night—nothing other than the normal quota of chirps, squeaks, and scuttlings
that attested to the activities of the abundant wildlife of the region. Then,
without warning, a gigantic shape charged from the underbrush. Smelch, in the
lead, late in swinging his broad-headed spear around, took the brunt of the
charge solidly against his chest. His explosive grunt was almost drowned in the
sound of the collision, not unlike that of an enraged rhino charging a Good
Humor wagon. The antagonists surged to and from, trampling shrubbery, shaking
trees, grunting like beached walruses. Suddenly the stranger bent his knees,
rammed his head into Smelch's midriff, and rose, Smelch spread-eagled across
his shoulders. He pivoted sharply, went into a dizzying twirl, and hurled the
unfortunate victim from him to hurtle into the undergrowth, snapping off a
medium-sized tree in the process. The victor paused only long enough to beat
out a rapid tattoo on his chest and wait until a brief coughing fit passed
before whirling on Retief. The Terran sidestepped the dimly seen monster's
first rush, which carried the latter well into the thicket beside the path. As
he threshed about there, roaring, Smelch reemerged from the opposite side of
the route, shaking his head and muttering. The stranger came crashing back onto
the scene only to be met by two lefts and a right haymaker that halted him in
his tracks.

"Sorry
about that, Retief," Smelch said contritely, as his antagonist toppled
like a felled oak. "But the mug got my dander up, which he shouldn't ought
to of came out leading with his chin anyways."

"A neat
one-two-three," Retief commented, blowing a plume of smoke toward the
fallen fighter. "Let's take a closer look." He parted the brush to
look down at the casualty, who lay sprawled on his back, out cold. The
ten-foot-tall figure was remarkably conservative for a Lumbagan, he thought:
only two legs and arms, a single narrow head with close-set paired eyes, a lone
nose and mouth, an unimpressive chin. The feet, clearly outlined inside rawhide
buskins, featured five toes each, matching the hands' ten fingers.

"What's
the matter?" Smelch said. "You know the mug?" "No, but he
bears a certain resemblance to a colleague of mine."

"Jeez,
the poor guy. Well, beauty ain't everything. Anyways, here's your chance to
pick up a set of dogs at a steal, if you know what I mean." He rammed an
elbow toward Retief's ribs, a comradely gesture capable of collapsing a lung
had it landed.

"I
think I'll pass up the opportunity this time," Retief said, stepping
forward to investigate a strand of barbed wire vaguely discernible in the
gloom. It was one of three, he discovered, running parallel to the trail,
firmly attached to stout posts.

"Retief,
we better blow," Smelch said. "Like Flunt said, nobody but nobody
don't want to poke his noses and stuff in too close around
you-know-where."