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

Blub said eagerly as he hurried forward
to reestablish his usefulness as liaison between the General and reality,
"is that Groaci advisor, Mr., ... ah, what was that name again, sir?"
                "Retief!"
Shinth yelled in his feeble voice.
                "Grab
him!" General Mub snapped, pointing at the excited Groaci. "I've been
tipped," he added, "that an alien of that name might well attempt
mischief here. General Hish himself rang up only a moment ago to let me know
the fellow had been sighted at the port by an alert field-man named Thif."
                "You're
making a serious blunder, you incompetent blimp!" Shinth yelled over
Blub's shoulder as the latter slipped the cuffs on him.
                "
'Incompetent blimp'," the General repeated. "Make a note of that,
Blub. Where did the noisy little freak come from, anyways?"
                "Beats
me, General sir," Blub admitted. "He come up and started trying to
make trouble just when I was about to announce this Groaci VIP here." The
trooper proudly indicated his protégé, Retief.
                "Must
be one of those Terry miscreants Hish told me about," the General deduced.
"Hish said they harbored a vicious prejudice against selfless Groacian
bureaucrats, as he so eloquently put it. Better lock him up in Number Three,"
the General concluded briskly, then turned to Retief. "And now, sir,
perhaps we can get down to matters of substance." He motioned Retief,
accompanied by Yong, ahead, into the dimly lit interior of the headquarter
hutment, where half a dozen lumpy Glorb officers, with their colorful rank
badges, sat huddled around a knee-high table on which were laid out charts of
increasing scale, the final one a close-up photo-montage of the patch of desert
allocated to the alien vessels, and the amphitheatre soon to be the scene of
the Pan-Galactic Pageant. Retief leaned over it to study closely the fine
photographic detail.
                "Units
all in place just hull-down," the General pointed out complacently,
"all in accordance with regs, right down to the prepared press dispatches:
Terry Bandits Raid Galactic Glamor Get-together!"
                "We're
getting close to M-minute," Retief hazarded. "All set to jump off on
signal?"
                "Sure,"
General Mub confirmed. "Now that the Whonk entry has arrived, we've got a
full bag. My boys are raring to go. The smoke bomb's ready and waiting for the
word."
                "And
what is the word?" Retief asked casually.
                "
'Y'Yivshish'," the General supplied promptly. "Right? Am I on my
carpals, or what?"
                "I
see the Groaci advisor was so gracious as to provide the term," Retief
commented, "along with the rest of the scheme."
                "Right,
Lord ... uh ... what was that handle again, Your Lordship?" Mub inquired
obsequiously.
                "Shhh,"
Retief cautioned. "You might have a security leak here, you know,
General."
                "In
that case, he's in trouble," Yong commented to Retief in a hoarse whisper.
"Looks like the infernal Glorbs are up to their cauliflower ears in
something that could get the whole planet in hot water." He mosied over to
study the charts, casually dislodging a Glorb three-pipper, who complained
loudly in his own dialect, then switched to Groaci, which he spoke with a
barbaric accent:
                "To
have tooken my last insult from an uncouth Vang flatfoot!" he screeched.
"You just wait a couple days, chum, and you and your whole barbaric tribe
will be sitting behind wire looking out at the glorious triumph of Glorb
destiny!"
                "Would
you like to go into a little detail, Colonel Crudbum?" Yong suggested as
he pinned the noisy officer with one mighty paw, while yawning cavernously.
                "It's
all but accomplished!" the prostrate Glorb yelled. "And you'll