Read Online Retief and the PanGalactic Pageant of Pulchritude by Keith Laumer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Keith Laumer
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Foreign
Office Notes," Magnan told Retief quickly. "Fill one in and hurry
back. No typos, remember: the Glorbian Foreign Minister is finicky about using
blank forms in the first place."
"Let's
all go, except for him," Mub suggested with a venomous glance at
Yong. "My staff whirly-gig or whatever you call it, is standing by just
over the ridge."
"I'll
see you there," Yong commented as he turned and bounded away.
Retief
unobtrusively stepped closer to Shinth, whom Flup had thrust back into his
cell. He handed the Groaci his fountain pen.
"Give
the glab-worm a shot of this in the eye, when it come out for lunch," he
suggested, "then break it in two and toss it down its throat, and retire
to a neutral corner," then he rejoined Magnan and the General.
7
Ten
minutes later, in Magnan's office, General Mub signed with a flourish the
hastily typed-up form, requesting, or more accurately, demanding the immediate
dispatch of technical assistance, complete with trained personnel and full
field equipment. "Yep," he commented, "the boys back at HQ will
sit up and take notice when they see how I pulled their fat outa the fire this
time. I'll have that third star in no time, soon's they see the Groaci fleet
slip in to block off the Terries."
"General
Mub," Magnan said solemnly, "an unfortunate misunderstanding has
somehow arisen. We are not Groaci; that noisy fellow in Number Three is a
Groaci, while Retief here and myself are genuine Terrans, ready to save your
fat and get you that star."
"What?"
Mub yelled. "You mean I got one of Glorb's benefactors in the slammer, and
I'm standing here chinning with the notorious Retief? They'll bust me back to
buck general—or maybe T-5. Corporal! Lock up this pair of sharpies!" He
gestured to a torpid two-striper standing by, who shuffled his feet, but failed
to move.
"Pray
don't be hasty, General," Magnan urged, backing away. "Consider:
whether you call us rose or weed, it is nonetheless the wretch in Number Three
who had admitted that it is his hostile vessels which are about to
invade sacred Glorbian soil."
Mub
paused in mid-yell to scratch at his heavy jaw with a blunt finger. "You
got a point there, fella; and frankly I been troubled by one little detail:
'sneaky little five-eyed sticky-fingers' is what Yong used to call the
Groaci—and you boys don't look like you got quite that many eyes—and old
Retief—or whoever the sucker in Number Three is—has got a whole lot of
'em—maybe even five, like Yong said."
"Good
thinking, General!" Magnan congratulated the officer. "Now I must get
on the SWIFT transmitter and get those Peace Enforcers in here before
M-minute." He hurried across to the alcove filled by the Galactic-Ultimate-Top-Secret-shaped
wave interference-front device, and in a moment had transmitted a certified
true copy of the agreement to Sector and had elicited a promise of the prompt
dispatch of the requested advisory group.
There
was a screech from beyond the cabin door, which slammed open to admit Yong,
behind whom an excited clerk was dithering. "Oh, Mr. Magnan!" he
cried. "I had to show him your office, because—"
"Never
mind, Bobby, I quite understand," Magnan said off-handedly as he ducked
aside to avoid the Vang's abrupt arrival.
"Sorry
I'm late," Yong said, panting slightly from his run. "I run into
Gertie and talked the kid into coming back here. Some guys down below took over
and escorted her to her quarters. Seemed like she was hungry."
"Nice
work, Yong," Retief said, then stepped into the passage, beckoning the
constable to follow.
"I
need your help, Yong," he told the big cat. "Shinth has his troops
poised,
Office Notes," Magnan told Retief quickly. "Fill one in and hurry
back. No typos, remember: the Glorbian Foreign Minister is finicky about using
blank forms in the first place."
"Let's
all go, except for him," Mub suggested with a venomous glance at
Yong. "My staff whirly-gig or whatever you call it, is standing by just
over the ridge."
"I'll
see you there," Yong commented as he turned and bounded away.
Retief
unobtrusively stepped closer to Shinth, whom Flup had thrust back into his
cell. He handed the Groaci his fountain pen.
"Give
the glab-worm a shot of this in the eye, when it come out for lunch," he
suggested, "then break it in two and toss it down its throat, and retire
to a neutral corner," then he rejoined Magnan and the General.
7
Ten
minutes later, in Magnan's office, General Mub signed with a flourish the
hastily typed-up form, requesting, or more accurately, demanding the immediate
dispatch of technical assistance, complete with trained personnel and full
field equipment. "Yep," he commented, "the boys back at HQ will
sit up and take notice when they see how I pulled their fat outa the fire this
time. I'll have that third star in no time, soon's they see the Groaci fleet
slip in to block off the Terries."
"General
Mub," Magnan said solemnly, "an unfortunate misunderstanding has
somehow arisen. We are not Groaci; that noisy fellow in Number Three is a
Groaci, while Retief here and myself are genuine Terrans, ready to save your
fat and get you that star."
"What?"
Mub yelled. "You mean I got one of Glorb's benefactors in the slammer, and
I'm standing here chinning with the notorious Retief? They'll bust me back to
buck general—or maybe T-5. Corporal! Lock up this pair of sharpies!" He
gestured to a torpid two-striper standing by, who shuffled his feet, but failed
to move.
"Pray
don't be hasty, General," Magnan urged, backing away. "Consider:
whether you call us rose or weed, it is nonetheless the wretch in Number Three
who had admitted that it is his hostile vessels which are about to
invade sacred Glorbian soil."
Mub
paused in mid-yell to scratch at his heavy jaw with a blunt finger. "You
got a point there, fella; and frankly I been troubled by one little detail:
'sneaky little five-eyed sticky-fingers' is what Yong used to call the
Groaci—and you boys don't look like you got quite that many eyes—and old
Retief—or whoever the sucker in Number Three is—has got a whole lot of
'em—maybe even five, like Yong said."
"Good
thinking, General!" Magnan congratulated the officer. "Now I must get
on the SWIFT transmitter and get those Peace Enforcers in here before
M-minute." He hurried across to the alcove filled by the Galactic-Ultimate-Top-Secret-shaped
wave interference-front device, and in a moment had transmitted a certified
true copy of the agreement to Sector and had elicited a promise of the prompt
dispatch of the requested advisory group.
There
was a screech from beyond the cabin door, which slammed open to admit Yong,
behind whom an excited clerk was dithering. "Oh, Mr. Magnan!" he
cried. "I had to show him your office, because—"
"Never
mind, Bobby, I quite understand," Magnan said off-handedly as he ducked
aside to avoid the Vang's abrupt arrival.
"Sorry
I'm late," Yong said, panting slightly from his run. "I run into
Gertie and talked the kid into coming back here. Some guys down below took over
and escorted her to her quarters. Seemed like she was hungry."
"Nice
work, Yong," Retief said, then stepped into the passage, beckoning the
constable to follow.
"I
need your help, Yong," he told the big cat. "Shinth has his troops
poised,
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