The Keith Laumer MEGAPACK®: 21 Classic Stories. Keith Laumer
guns aimed at his chest.
“Determined to hang yourselves, aren’t you?” Retief said. “I hope you have sense enough not to lay a hand on this poor fool here.” He jerked a thumb at Miss Meuhl. “She doesn’t know anything. I hadn’t had time to tell her yet. She thinks you’re a band of angels.”
The cop at Retief’s side swung the butt of his scatter-gun, connected solidly with Retief’s jaw. Retief staggered against a Groacian, was caught and thrust upright, blood running down onto his shirt. Miss Meuhl yelped. Shluh barked at the guard in shrill Groacian, then turned to stare at Miss Meuhl.
“What has this man told you?”
“I—nothing. I refused to listen to his ravings.”
“He said nothing to you of some…alleged…involvement?”
“I’ve told you!” Miss Meuhl said sharply. She looked at the blood on Retief’s shirt.
“He told me nothing,” she whispered. “I swear it.”
“Let it lie, boys,” Retief said. “Before you spoil that good impression.”
Shluh looked at Miss Meuhl for a long moment. Then he turned.
“Let us go,” he said. He turned back to Miss Meuhl. “Do not leave this building until further advice,” he said.
“But…I am the Terrestrial consul!”
“For your safety, madam. The people are aroused at the beating of Groacian nationals by an…alien.”
“So long, Meuhlsie,” Retief said. “You played it real foxy.”
“You’ll…lock him in his quarters?” Miss Meuhl said.
“What is done with him is now a Groacian affair, Miss Meuhl. You yourself have withdrawn the protection of your government.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t start having second thoughts,” Retief said. “They can make you miserable.”
“I had no choice,” Miss Meuhl said. “I had to consider the best interest of the Service.”
“My mistake, I guess,” Retief said. “I was thinking of the best interests of a Terrestrial cruiser with three hundred men aboard.”
“Enough,” Shluh said. “Remove this criminal.” He gestured to the peace keepers.
“Move along,” he said to Retief. He turned to Miss Meuhl.
“A pleasure to deal with you, Madam.”
IV
Retief stood quietly in the lift, stepped out at the ground floor and followed docilely down the corridor and across the pavement to a waiting steam car.
One of the peace keepers rounded the vehicle to enter on the other side. Two stooped to climb into the front seat. Shluh gestured Retief into the back seat and got in behind him. The others moved off on foot.
The car started up and pulled away. The cop in the front seat turned to look at Retief.
“To have some sport with it, and then to kill it,” he said.
“To have a fair trial first,” Shluh said. The car rocked and jounced, rounded a corner, puffed along between ornamented pastel facades.
“To have a trial and then to have a bit of sport,” the cop said.
“To suck the eggs in your own hill,” Retief said. “To make another stupid mistake.”
Shluh raised his short ceremonial club and cracked Retief across the temple. Retief shook his head, tensed—
The cop in the front seat beside the driver turned and rammed the barrel of his scatter-gun against Retief’s ribs.
“To make no move, outworlder,” he said. Shluh raised his club and carefully struck Retief again. He slumped.
The car swayed, rounded another corner. Retief slid over against the police chief.
“To fend this animal—” Shluh began. His weak voice was cut off short as Retief’s hand shot out, took him by the throat and snapped him down onto the floor. As the guard on Retief’s left lunged, Retief uppercut him, slamming his head against the door post. He grabbed the scatter-gun as it fell, pushed into the mandibles of the Groacian in the front seat.
“To put your popgun over the seat—carefully—and drop it,” he said.
The driver slammed on his brakes, whirled to raise his gun. Retief cracked the gun barrel against the head of the Groacian before him, then swiveled to aim it at the driver.
“To keep your eyestalks on the road,” he said. The driver grabbed at the tiller and shrank against the window, watching Retief with one eye, driving with the other.
“To gun this thing,” Retief said. “To keep moving.”
Shluh stirred on the floor. Retief put a foot on him, pressed him back. The cop beside Retief moved. Retief pushed him off the seat onto the floor.
He held the scatter-gun with one hand and mopped at the blood on his face with the other. The car bounded over the irregular surface of the road, puffing furiously.
“Your death will not be an easy one, Terrestrial,” Shluh said in Terran.
“No easier than I can help,” Retief said. “Shut up for now, I want to think.”
* * * *
The car passed the last of the relief-crusted mounds, sped along between tilled fields.
“Slow down,” Retief said. The driver obeyed.
“Turn down this side road.”
The car bumped off onto an unpaved surface, threaded its way back among tall stalks.
“Stop here.” The car stopped. It blew off steam and sat trembling as the hot engine idled roughly.
Retief opened the door, took his foot off Shluh.
“Sit up,” he ordered. “You two in front listen carefully.” Shluh sat up, rubbing his throat.
“Three of you are getting out here,” Retief said. “Good old Shluh is going to stick around to drive for me. If I get that nervous feeling that the cops are after me, I’ll toss him out to confuse them. That will be pretty messy, at high speed. Shluh, tell them to sit tight until dark and forget about sounding any alarms. I’d hate to see your carapace split and spill loveable you all over the pavement.”
“To burst your throat sac, evil-smelling beast!” Shluh hissed.
“Sorry, I haven’t got one.” Retief put the gun under Shluh’s ear. “Tell them, Shluh. I can drive myself, in a pinch.”
“To do as the foreign one says; to stay hidden until dark,” Shluh said.
“Everybody out,” Retief said. “And take this with you.” He nudged the unconscious Groacian. “Shluh, you get in the driver’s seat. You others stay where I can see you.”
Retief watched as the Groaci silently followed instructions.
“All right, Shluh,” Retief said softly. “Let’s go. Take me to Groac Spaceport by the shortest route that doesn’t go through the city. And be very careful about making any sudden movements.”
* * * *
Forty minutes later, Shluh steered the car up to the sentry-guarded gate in the security fence surrounding the military enclosure at Groac Spaceport.
“Don’t yield to any rash impulses,” Retief whispered as a crested Groacian soldier came up. Shluh grated his mandibles in helpless fury.
“Drone-master Shluh, Internal Security,” he croaked. The guard tilted his eyes toward Retief.
“The