Reward for Retief (28 page)

           
"How do you
do that?" Underknuckle yelped. "You speak—and loudly—without a
movement of the lips or throat! That's clever, Retief, I'll grant you that—but
the Corps Diplomatique is hardly the proper venue for such tricks! A carnival
midway would be a fitter outlet for your skill!"

            Sid, who had been hovering
nearby, tugged at Underknuckle's sleeve and led the now somewhat deflated
colonel off to one side. "We've got to work together, Fred," Sid told
the panicky colonel. "We came out here to lay the trouble-maker Retief by
the heels—"

            "I thought we were here
to demand the release of hostages, Sid," Fred objected mildly.

            "You've seen the
posters yourself, Fred!" Sid reminded him. " 'Reward for Retief they
say! 'Dead or alive.' Bringing him in will be a coup that will doubtless net
you your first star!"

            "Sure, but ..."
Fred faltered. "There's been some kind of foul-up. His Ex was just kidding
about the 'dead or alive' part. Art Droneflesh took him seriously! Bad show,
Sid. After all he
is
a Terry diplomat, same as us; maybe we oughta
consider riding him, just until he can round up and dispose of those dacoit
types that interfered with us just now."

            "Perish the thought,
Fred!" Sid dismissed the proposal. "Those posters don't say 'Reward
for Retief for nothing, after all! Chief Smeer will deal with the
banditti!"

            "Sure, Sid, but after
all, Art wrote the copy in error, like I said," Underknuckle persisted.
"My idea is, first we get his help to get clear, then we run him in. How's
it sound, Sid?"

           
treacherous in the extreme
, Junior put in.

            "Now
you re
doing
it!" Fred and Sid cried together, then launched into a confused exchange
in which the expressions 'trickster,' and 'how dare you!' recurred frequently.
Then they paused for breath and looked around the cave as if seeing it for the
first time.

            "He's gone!" Fred exclaimed,
just as Sid said, "Where did he go?" and turned a demanding look on
Fred.

            "I'm sure
I
wouldn't know," the latter said reprovingly.

            "You seek to imply that
I
would?"
Sid countered. "That, Colonel, is unwarranted,
inappropriate, insubordinate, and unendurable!"

            "Also 'imaginary',"
Fred pointed out. "I never came out and said you were actually responsible
for letting the miscreant slip through our fingers."

            "Maybe it's just as
well," the Counselor suggested. "He
is
rather a physical type,
and I had never planned to seize him without the assistance of Chief Smeer and
his loyal cops."

            "A fet lot of good
they
turned out to be!" Fred complained. "They quailed at the first
glimpse of that thug they called Tiny."

            "Well, after all,"
Overbore alibied, "Smeer
was
only up on a vagrancy charge when I
found him in the lockup. He aspired to better things—which is why he leapt at
my offer of a chieftainship. Otherwise he'd have sneered at my offer like all
the other confounded locals."

            "Sure, I know all that
stuff, Sid," Underknuckle said impatiently. Then he inquired in an oily
tone, "Doesn't it strike you, Counselor, that it was just the teensiest
bit devious of you to seek in the first instance to discredit an officer of the
Terran Mission, albeit a junior one, in order to create a context in which
raising, in effect, a private army of local malcontents would seem not
unremarkable, all in pursuit of your own personal objectives—"

           
"And
your star,
remember!" Sid cut in. "Look, Freddy, we've almost got it made: all
we need to do is order this mere Third Secretary, this obscure Vice-Consul, to
surrender himself, and we'll take him back to the capital in figurative chains,
and the prize is ours!"

            "Suppose he don't want
to?" Fred countered.

           
i think you two have polluted the
AIR
of the sacred cave long enough,
Junior announced. Sid and
Fred leapt as if prodded by hot pins and stared wildly about.

            "Disembodied
voices!" Overbore breathed. "Spooks!" Fred corrected.

            "Possibly the
disembodied voices of spooks, as you suggest," Overbore conceded. "In
any event, the suggestion inherent in the insulting remark is not without merit.
Let's get out of here," he added in translation of his own convoluted
syntax.

            "And leave Retief here,
to the mercy of the spooks?" Fred objected. "Good idea," he went
on. "Then we won't hafta try to arrest him. Let's go!" the two senior
diplomats dashed for the narrow exit. After a brief struggle they burst through
and found Chief Smeer awaiting them.

            "Gladda see you
boys," the chief greeted them. "Some o' my cops hadda go back to town
on urgent business—"

            "What urgent business,
may one inquire?" Overbore demanded.

            "Sure," Smeer
asserted. "Go ahead and ast me. Keeping alive," he added. "Can't
blame 'em fer that."

            "And what of the
ruffians you were ordered to place under arrest?" Overbore persisted.

            "Oh, you mean that
rogue Terry, Retief," Smeer deduced. "Well, he went inna cave with
you, Fred. I figger you got him bottled up good."

2

            Inside the cave, Retief,
having squeezed halfway into the crevice heard a woman's scream, then saw
movement further ahead along the narrow niche.

            "Retief!!"
Magnan's voice called. His face appeared, pale and strained, only a few feet
ahead. "I'm stuck!" he groaned. "Can't go any further and can't
go back. Thank heaven you're here! I can hardly breathe. Extricate me at
once!" His arms groped toward Retief's extended hand. "I ... can't
..." He whimpered. "What a dreadful way to die! Trapped in the bowels
of an alien world inhabited by ravening monsters and sarcastic voices! Do
hurry! Gaby needs me! They've got her!"

            "How'd you get in
there?" Retief asked. "And why?" His effort to reach Magnan's
hand fell short by a few inches.

            "I thought they'd taken
her this way," Magnan explained. "Here among these tumbled rocks
where the river emerges from the mountainside, I saw a dim light coming from
this cleft. So I tried to come through—and here I am. Make haste, Retief!
There's no telling what atrocities those terrible creatures will inflict on the
poor child!"

            "What terrible
creatures are those?" Retief wanted to know.

            "I think they're what
Junior called eaters," Magnan whimpered. "You don't suppose
they're—"

            "Not a chance,
sir," Retief assured his immediate supervisor. "They eat nothing but
glow-worms, Voice told me. And by now they're estivating."

            "But—I thought—never
mind," Magnan stammered. "Good lord! She was never in danger at all,
and my effort was all for naught!"

            "Not quite,
handsome," Gaby's voice spoke up, near at hand. "It's a wonderful
thing for a girl to know her lover would put his life on the line for her.
Hurry up, please! Let's get out of here!"

            "Gaby!" Magnan
called awkwardly. "Are you all right?"

            "For now," she
replied. "But you better get a move on! They're getting close."

            "Who, the eaters?"
Magnan yelped. "They're harmless, my love!"

            "Naw, some ugly mugs I
never seen before, make old Dirty Eddie look like Sir Galahad!"

            "Exhale, Mr.
Magnan," Retief suggested, as he did the same. "And try to relax; I'm
going to try something." With that, he wriggled back out of the crevice,
not without difficulty, over Magnan's spirited, though muffled protests.

            "I gained perhaps an
inch when I breathed out!" he called excitedly. "But that's no reason
to abandon me now!"

            "I notice that the
bottom of this fissure is ice-free," Retief told the older man. "It's
not water-tight, it seems. But if I pack it with cloth ..." He paused to
rip an inch-wide strip from the ruffles adorning the cuff of his early
mid-morning semi-formal shirt dress, middle three grades, for the use of, and
pressed it down into the narrowing lower edge of the crack in the cold rock;
then he scooped a palmful of water from one of the many puddles on the floor,
and dribbled it on the fabric caulking. At first, it soaked out of sight in an
instant; then the wet cloth glazed over and became reflective, as a film of
water built up on it, between the converging walls of stone. In the bitter
cold, the thin film crystalized almost at once, and in so doing expanded minutely.
There was a resounding
CRACKl,
and the fissure widened by perhaps one
sixty-fourth of an inch, Retief estimated. He dumped in more frigid water and
called encouragingly to Magnan. "Give it about five minutes, and I think
you'll feel the difference."

            "I do!" Magnan
blurted. "I'm sure I felt a relaxation of the pressure! I'm going to try
..."

            "You'd better go
back," Retief suggested. "I don't think there's room to squeeze
through."

            "Very well,"
Magnan agreed doubtfully. "But how am I to do so? I can't find any
purchase."

            "Relax, Mr.
Magnan," Retief suggested. "I'll go around and pull you back
out."

            "Do you think you can
find the right crevice in which to look for me?" Magnan groaned.
"That was an incredible jumble of boulders. I was a fool to have tried
..."

            "It was for Gaby,
remember?" Retief encouraged his trapped friend. "Relax and
breathe," he added. "I won't waste any time. Ta." He backed out,
noted Counselor Overbore and the colonel still wrangling near the exit, and
without disturbing their concentration on their debate, went along the wall to
the opening of the deeper cave, took two steps and encountered a solid wall of
stone. He explored for a few yards to the right, found it to be a seamless
continuation of the side wall, curving in to form a cul de sac.

            "How about it,
Worm?" he said aloud.

           
confound you, junior
!
The Big pattern communicated
fury,
now you've created a class one
paradox with your careless meddling! stand fast, alien being,
it added more calmly.
I
shall see what's to be done.

           
"You there,
Retief," Underknuckle's wheezy voice spoke up abruptly behind him.
"Who, or whom, I suppose, are you talking to? Or to whom are you
talking?"

            "Never mind that,
Fred," Overbore's sarcastic voice cut in. "I'm not grading on syntax today.
But as for you, Retief, what's your excuse?"

            "For existing, you
mean, Mr. Overbore?" Retief inquired innocently.

            "For participating in
this plot against the peace and dignity of the CDT!" was the irate reply.
"And what was all that about paradoxes—? You said you'd see what was to be
done. You! A mere FSO-7: and with a career minister present! It is precisely I
who shall determine the correct course of action!"

            "Swell, Sid," Fred
commented eagerly. "OK," he went on, "I'm as ready as I'll ever
be. Let's do it, before the monster comes back."

            "Do
what?"
Overbore
demanded. "What monster? This is no time, Fred, for precipitate
action!"

            "You're asking me, 'Do
what'?" Fred demanded. "You just said you had a plan all ready to go,
so let's do it! And you know darn well what monster: the one all the locals
were saying about, and Tiny, too, not to say nothing about Chief Smeer, your
own protégé!"