Read Online Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude by Keith Laumer - Free Book Online Page A

be all the more favorably disposed
toward ameliorating the severity of your sentence. Hurry up and Tell All; I
have to get the word back in time for Staff Meeting if I'm to score maximum
points—ah, abort the mischief, that is."
                "
'Tell All'," Shinth whispered. "Then you know about ..."
he paused to dash a drop of lachrymal exudation from an eyestalk. "Alas, I
am undone," he mourned.
                "To
be sure," Magnan replied cooly. "Speak up, Colonel. May as well take
defeat like a warrior."
                "All
right, since that wretch Fith has already spilled the legumes, I may as well
fill in the details. No court would cry me culpable."
                "Start
talking," Magnan ordered curtly.
                "The
Grand War Fleet will be landing at high noon, local, encircling the
fairgrounds," Shinth whispered brokenly.
                "Ye
Gods!" General Mub yelled. "A Terran fleet invading Glorb? Disaster!
General Hish assured me nothing of the sort was to be feared!"
                "I
say, General," Magnan objected tentatively, "Shinth said nothing
about a Terran fleet. Doubtless it is a Groaci fleet to which he
alludes."
                "What
would Retief know of Groacian treachery?" Mub yelled.
                "Actually
as a diplomat, he's quite experienced in the field," Magnan assured the
agitated patriot. "As am I myself, of course."
                "Yes,
yes, I suppose your intelligence apparatus has ferreted out many of their fell
designs. By the way, what sort of being are you?"
                "Surely
you jest, General," Magnan suggested. "I am of course, a Deputy Chief
of Mission, on temporary assignment to the Pageant."
                "Sure,
but except for His Lordship here," the General indicated Retief, "I
never saw one like you before. You're not one of them Glimps, are you?
                "By
no means, sir," Magnan said soothingly. "Now if you'll excuse me, His
Lordship and I must be off; final preparation for the preliminary competition,
you know."
                "You
call an invasion force a preliminary competition?" Mub inquired in his
usual yell. "What's next? Genocide?"
                "It
was the pageant to which I alluded," Magnan corrected the officer. He turned
to Retief. "Shall we go? I'd best hurry ahead with the Constable, in the
interest of prompt action." He went briskly to the side of Yong, who had
stretched out comfortably in a patch of sunlight.
                "Nix,"
the Vang demurred. "I'm sticking with my old pal Retief."
                "Oh,
very well," Mub agreed. "Hand him over, Sergeant," he directed
the non-com who was still gripping Shinth's skinny arm.
                "Glad
to, sir," Flup said promptly, thrusting the crestfallen Groaci toward
Magnan.
                "There
must be some mistake," Magnan began, recoiling; then his eye was caught by
Retief, who shook his head unobtrusively.
                "But
then I suppose the Constable can accommodate another."
                "No
sweat," Yong agreed. "But I still ain't going anywhere without
Retief."
                "How
about it, gents?" General Mub said earnestly to Magnan. "Can you
fellows get a battle fleet out here to cancel out the one this little beggar's
got standing by?"
                 "But,
my dear General," Magnan demurred, "that would be in violation of
sacred interplanetary agreements."
                "Not
if we acted in response to a formal request from the General," Retief
pointed out.
                "To
be sure," Magnan agreed thoughtfully. "So, I'd best hurry back to my
office aboardship to draw up the document."
                "Nope,"
Yong put in. "I'll take Retief, nobody else."
                "The
blank Technical Assistance forms are in my desk drawer, just under the