Retief Unbound (35 page)

"If you shot us it
would spoil the surprise."

"Yeah—that
figures. I guess you want to see Colonel Suash, eh, sir?" the Lumbagan
inquired of Retief.

"I couldn't have
phrased it better myself," Retief said. "How is the colonel these
days?"

"Just like
me," the greeter replied. "How else?"

"And naturally, I
got to go along as interpreter," Gloot said.

"What for? The
Groaci gent speaks pretty fair Lumbagan."

"He only speaks
the diplomatic dialect. Everything he says means something else."

"Oh, well, in that
case I guess you better come too." The local stepped back and motioned
them past. A narrow trail became visible ahead, a raised causeway between dark
pools thick with rank growth. Two more identical Lumbagans emerged into view,
fell in at the rear of the column.

"Weirdest thing I
ever saw," Gloot muttered to Retief. "Boy, it must be confusing,
having everybody in sight with the same number of everything. A guy could get
mixed up and wander into the wrong bedroom even."

"It happens,"
Retief confirmed.

"Say, that's
right, you Groaci come all of a pattern too," Gloot said. "Except for
you getting a little short-changed on eyes, of course. Funny, I keep forgetting
you're a foreigner and an alien, Retief; you seem just like a regular
fellow."

"Thanks, Gloot. I
take it twins are a rarity on Lumbaga, to say nothing of octuplets?"

"Hey, no more
talking," the officer barked. "Trying to figure out what's the
opposite of everything the Groaci says is giving me a swift pain in the
parietal lobes."

"Don't even try,
rube," Gloot said callously. "Decoding diplomatic conversations is a
job for experts—and even they can't do it."

The trail debouched
into a wide clearing, lined with neatly pitched tents, before one of which,
larger than the others, a gay-colored banner hung limp in the still air. In the
ruddy glow of a campfire were gathered a dozen more soldiers, all carbon copies
of the reception committee.

"Wow!" Gloot
exclaimed, "I heard of putting troops in uniforms, but this is
fantastic!"

"Retief!"
Magnan said behind his hand. "We've had no reports of any organized native
militia here on Lumbaga! Heavens, I shudder to contemplate what effect this
development might have, law-and-orderwise!"

"A
thought-provoking concept," Retief agreed.

"Wait here,"
their captor ordered, and stepped inside the oversized tent. A moment later he
reemerged, followed by still another duplicate of himself, this one wearing a
gaudy cummerbund and braided shoulder tabs. The newcomer stared at the Terran,
then jerked a power gun of foreign manufacture from a holster at his hip.

"What's this, a
hoax?" he demanded sharply. "You're not Swarmmaster Ussh!"

"Of course
not," Retief said briskly. "For a mission of this importance I
thought I'd better come personally."

"You don't even
look like the other ones," the officer barked. "Not enough
eyes—"

"Lay off,"
Gloot spoke up sharply. "The poor guy was born that way."

"Born? Born?
What's that?"

"It's kind of hard
to explain," Gloot said. "It's kind of like you start from scratch,
and one day—bloop! There you are. Get the idea?"

"Hmmphfff, do you
take me for a nincompoop? I've heard rumors that foreigners come into existence
in some such miraculous fashion, but I don't believe in spontaneous generation!
Now: what did you expect to accomplish here? Sabotage? Espionage?
Assassinations?"

"Keep going,"
Gloot muttered. "You'll hit something yet."

"I'm afraid we're
wasting time, Colonel," Retief said. "Shall we go inside? What I have
is confidential."

"Well," the
commander started, but Retief had already brushed past him, Gloot at his heels,
Magnan bringing up the rear. The interior of the headquarters tent was
spacious, comfortably furnished with chairs, tables, straw cushions, beaded
hangings.

"Pretty
plush," Gloot commented to Retief. "You Groaci do all right by your
chums."

"Lots of people
would be surprised to know just how far Groaci chumship has penetrated into the
jungle," Retief commented.

Their host bustled
past, waved them to seats, rang for an orderly who quickly produced drinks all
around.

"Now, what's all
this about a confidential mission?" Suash said ill-temperedly. "I
thought all that was settled."

"It's a matter of
adjusting to fluctuating conditions," Retief advised the officer coolly.

"You mean—the
Terries are getting suspicious?"

"There is that
possibility."

"But I was assured
they were a pack of self-serving incompetents, who wouldn't realize what was
going on until they found themselves stacked in a parts bin."

"A slight
exaggeration, Colonel," Magnan said icily. "Not that we Groaci care
one way or another what sort of base canards you spread," he added quickly
as the officer frowned.

"I don't like
that." The colonel shifted in his chair. "Do they know we're
here?" "They just found out."

"That's bad! But
surely they're not aware of the secret installation in the interior?"
"The word is out," Retief admitted.

"This is
terrible!" Colonel Suash cried. "Do they know our role on
D-day?"

"Not yet,"
Retief said. "But they're hoping to learn any time now."

"How?" Suash
flapped his arms in agitation. "It's the most closely guarded military
secret in Lumbagan history. In fact, it's the only military secret in Lumbagan
history!"

"Simple,"
Gloot spoke up. "You got a spy in your midst."

"A spy?
Impossible!"

"Oh, yeah? Nothing
easier. After all, all you birds look alike. All a spy has to do is disguise
himself to look like one of you—and zingo, he's invisible."

"Diabolical!"

"It's just the old
needle-in-a-froomstack principle," Gloot said carelessly. "With a new
twist."

"No wonder you
were sent to warn me." Suash groaned. "What can I do?"

"Easy," Gloot
volunteered. "Stage a showdown inspection."

"How . . . how do
you mean?"

"Call your troops
in one at a time, and order 'em to disassemble. The one that's a Terry in
disguise won't be able to do it."

"What? Order my
own lads to destroy themselves?"

"Got any better
ideas, Suash? Anyway, the odds are you won't work more'n halfway through the
roster before you hit pay dirt."

"You concur?"
Suash looked anxiously at Retief.

"It ought to be
interesting to see what happens."

"I ... I suppose I
haven't any choice. Not after the demonstration Shlush gave me of the fate in
store for failures." The colonel tinkled his bell again. An orderly
promptly appeared.

"Ah—Private Spub.
I have, er, to inform you that your nation, ah, requires of you the, er,
supreme sacrifice."

"You're not
canceling my furlough?" Spub said aggrievediy.

"By no means. As a
matter of fact, you're about to enjoy a type of freedom you've not known for
some time—" "You mean—my discharge came through? Yipeeee!"

"Private Spub!
You're at attention! I suppose in a sense one might say you're about to be
discharged. At any rate, after tonight you'll no longer be a member of my
command. I'd like to say that you've been a satisfactory soldier, except for a
slight tendency toward insubordination, goldbricking, and slovenliness in
dress—"

"I get it,"
Spub said. "You're resigning. Can't say that I blame you, Suash—"

"Colonel Suash,
Private!"

"Not if you've
resigned. Make up your mind," Spub said sullenly.

"Spub, I order you
to . . . to . . . disassemble yourself." "You mean—?"

"I mean
disassociate! Into Freebies!"

Spub took a step
backward, whirled, and darted from the tent.

"Head for the tall
timber, boys!" he yelled. "Old Suash has finally blown his rug! He's
on a suicide-pact kick!"

"Here, fall in for
inspection!" Suash roared, plunging through the tent fly. "Sergeant!
Come back here. . . ."

"It appears the
colonel has a slight discipline problem," Magnan sniffed as he and Retief
followed their host outside. The encampment was already deserted but for the
irate officer and a lone private who loitered near the campfire, staring into
the woods where his comrades had disappeared.

"Well, I'm glad to
see I have one loyal subordinate," Suash cried. "Fall in, you!"

"I wonder why he
didn't depart with the others," Magnan said.

"Maybe because he
had reason to stick around," Retief conjectured.

"Well,
Private," Suash addressed the fellow, "it was a pleasure to have you
in my outfit."

"Was?" the
private inquired in a shy whisper.

"It's now my sad
duty to order you to disincorporate," Suash went on. "Seems a shame,
with you the only loyal trooper in the group. But such are the fortunes of
war."

"Ah . . . I'm
afraid that won't be convenient," the soldier demurred feebly.

"What's this,
mutiny?"

"Aha!" Gloot
said to Retief. "We're on to something. Watch this." He stepped
forward, shouldered Suash aside, and rammed a stiffened finger into the
private's midsection. The latter doubled over, emitting hoarse wheezing sounds.

"I told you
so!" Gloot cried. "Grab him!" he added as the assaulted private
ducked suddenly and sprang past him, only to be brought down in a flying tackle
by the colonel.

"A dead giveaway,
Retief," Gloot explained happily. "Any genuine Lumbagan will break
down into Freebies if you land a solid poke in his lunar plexus."

"So," Suash
growled, dusting himself off and glaring down at the unfortunate imposter.
"A Terry spy, eh?"

"By no
means," the bogus private gasped, tottering to his feet.

"I happen to know
better!" Suash barked. "Luckily, this Groaci civilian, Mr. Retief,
tipped me off—"

"Retief?
Groaci?" the accused spy fumbled at his head, stripped away a rubber mask
to reveal five stalked oculars in a pale gray visage.

"I happen to be
one Pilth, Groaci observer assigned to undercover surveillance duty!" he
hissed. "
There
"—he pointed at Retief—"is the Terry
spy!"

Suash looked
uncertainly from Retief to the Groaci, gave Gloot a sharp look as the latter
guffawed.

"Nice try,
Terry," Gloot said. "But it so happens I can vouch for Retief. I
collected him personally from Groaci secret HQ in Dacoit Street. He and Shlush
were just like that."

"Cretins!
Assassins! Dumbbells! Are you so ignorant of esthetics as to be unaware of the
characteristics defining the noble Groaci race? Where, may I ask, are this
impostor's handsome stemmed oculars, five in number? And—"

"
That
again," Gloot said wearily. "OK, so the guy's deformed, but in spite
of the handicap he does OK. How about you, Terry? I got a hunch about three o'
those eyeballs you're waggling at me are phonies. . . ." He reached for
Pilth's twitching eyestalks, but with a sharp cry, the Groaci dodged aside.

"Unhand me, vile
aborigine!" he keened.

"I'll just give
'em an easy yank or two," Gloot assured the terrified captive, making
another grab for his eyes.

"I confess!"
Pilth squeaked, cowering behind Suash. "I throw myself on your mercy! Just
don't let that great uncouth bruiser lay hands on me!"

"The effrontery of
it!" Suash exclaimed. "Trying to pass yourself off as one of my good
friends, the Groaci—as if you could fool me—while spying on my operation!"

"Better find out
how much he's learned," Retief suggested.

Suash glowered at the
culprit. "How many of our secrets have you ferreted out?"

"Colonel—might I
have a word with you in private," Pilth entreated earnestly, "ere a
gross miscarriage of justice takes place, as well as a disaster to the common
cause?"

"Don't listen to
him, Colonel," Gloot urged. "Anything this Terry has got to say he
can say in front of us Groaci."

"You're claiming
to be a Groaci too now?" Suash exclaimed in startlement.

"Well, an honorary
one, sort of. On account of me and Retief being pals and all."

Suash grunted, turned
back to Pilth. "Start talking."

"And reveal
Groacian state secrets to this vile Terry who has the audacity to bogusly claim
Groacihood?"

"Back to that,
huh?" Gloot said, and reached for an eye. Pilth screeched breathily and
dived for cover behind Retief.

"I know
nothing!" he whispered frantically. "Actually, I slept through the
orientation lectures—"