Retief - Retief of the CDT Part 27

"Why not accept the situation, gentlemen? His Excellency is missing, alas. But that's no reason we shouldn't continue on amicable terms-"

"We are leaving," Magnan said, "at once!"

"Au contraire," Sloonge said. He had absentmindedly slumped halfway back to his normal proportions, and now resembled a gaudily dressed, two-armed giant squid. "You musn't think of venturing forth in such weather."

"Is that a threat?" Magnan choked.

"By no means, Mr. Magnan. A simple statement of fact. It might lead to all manner of complications interplanetary accordwise if you rushed back to your superiors with the report that His Supremacy has misplaced an Amba.s.sador. Ergo-you remain. Now, let us be happy, let us be gay. You may as well; unless His Excellency turns up, you'll spend the rest of your natural lives here."

10.

"Retief, this is fantastic," Magnan said as soon as Sloonge had flowed and wobbled out of earshot. "How could Wrothwax have vanished without leaving a trace? He had full XL gear, dye markers, radioactive tracers, gamma-ray projectors, supersonic and infrared signal projectors-everything.''

"Unless Sloonge can lie telepathically, he's just as puzzled as we are," Retief said.

Magnan mopped at his forehead with a scented tissue. "Heavens, I must be running a fever. I wonder how His Supremacy is at synthesizing antibiotics?"

"It's not a fever," Retief said. "It's getting warm in here. Must be close to ninety."

All around, the restive crowd-which had diplomatically kept its distance since the exchange with Sloonge-were showing signs of distress, shedding bulky costumes as their quasihuman forms wavered and slumped.

"You don't suppose this is a scheme for getting rid of us by cooking us to death?" Magnan panted, fanning himself with a hand.

"They don't seem to like it any better than we do," Retief pointed out. "They're spreading themselves thin for maximum radiating surface."

Sloonge pushed through the increasingly amorphous crowd; only the big blue eyes remained of the courtesy shape he had a.s.sumed. Two small, leathery-looking Quahoggians were at his heels.

"What's going on here, Sloonge?" Magnan demanded before the official could speak. "It's like a hothouse in here!"

"What's going on is that the temperature is zooming toward a record high," Sloonge replied somewhat hysterically. "His Supremacy's taken a turn for the worse. He's running a fever, and if a miracle doesn't happen, we'll all be dead by the time we wake up in the morning!"

Magnan grabbed Retief's arm. "We've got to get out of here at once!"

"Nothing has changed," Sloonge spoke up quickly. "I still can't permit you to leave." He motioned with a formless arm to his enforcers. "Take them to their quarters," he ordered in a blurry telepathic voice. "Leave that they don't see. I mean, see that they don't see. I mean, see that they don't leave. Or is that what I mean...?"

"Retief," Magnan said in a stage whisper, "you take the one on the left and the one on the right, and I'll go for help."

One of the small beings produced a chrome-plated power-gun, identical with Terran Navy issue.

"Better play it smart, big boy," he telepathed. "I been wanting to see how this worked."

Flanked by their escort, the Terrans made their way across the wide floor-which was now an unflattering shade of puce, and tended to ripple underfoot-and along the somewhat shrunken corridor to their quarters. The wallpaper, formerly a gay pattern of daffodils on a field vert, was now a rancid orange against faded olive-drab. The s.h.i.+ne was gone from the fixtures. The heat was intense.

"Even the mattress sags," Magnan said. "Good lord, Retief, are we doomed to spend our remaining hours in a third-rate hotel room?"

Retief was watching the two guards whose shapes were wavering like dying flames. He stepped in suddenly, plucked the gun from flaccid fingers, which had sagged to a length of eighteen inches under the weight of the weapon. The former owner made a weak grab.

"Don't try it," Retief advised. "It shoots fire. A short burst into the floor is guaranteed to give His Supremacy instant ulcers."

"Why didn't you warn a fellow?" the Quahoggian said. "I might've shot at you and missed and got in a lot of trouble."

"Before you go," Retief said, "where is the little round Terry who arrived last week?"

"Beats me. I ain't seen him since-" He caught himself, but the faint thought leaked through-since I caught him trynna sneak past post number 802...

"Where's post 802?"

"I ain't saying," the guard said. He was in obvious distress from the heat; it was apparent that only will power kept his lumpy body from flowing out into a thin film.

"Let's get outa here, Whump," his comrade proposed. "Maybe if we beat it out into the exoderm we can cool off."

"Yeah, but we got orders-"

"It's every phogocyte for hisself," the first guard said, and fled, closely followed by his partner.

"Heavens," Magnan sniffed, "one encounters them everywhere nowadays-" He broke off as Retief pocketed the gun and headed for the door.

"Let's go hunt up Sloonge," Retief said. "Maybe now he'll be in a mood to negotiate."

11.

They found the Interior Minister slumped quivering in a corner of the ilium like a truckload of pale liver on which two large eyes floated like blue fried eggs.

"What, still alive?" he telepathed weakly as he caught sight of the Terrans. "A pity, all this. Never intended it to end this way. His Supremacy is done for... temperature up to a hundred and ten and rising. It's the end-for all of us..."

"Maybe not," Retief said. "What's the quickest way out?"

"No use. His Supremacy has slid into rigor vitalis; every sphincter's locked tight. We're trapped."

"You intend to just lie there supinely and let it happen?" Magnan yelped...

"It's as good a place to lie supinely as any," Sloonge pointed out.

"You say His Supremacy is doomed," Retief said. "Are you willing to take extreme measures on the off chance of saving him?"

"W-what do you have in mind?"

"Can you lead the way to the olfactory cavity?"

"I suppose so-but-"

"No time to talk now," Retief said. "Let's get going."

Sloonge pulled himself together. "I suppose it's worth a try. The olfactory cavity, you say? Not that it will do any good. You can't get out that way; nostrils are closed tight, as I said, and..." His thoughts trailed off as he devoted total effort to wobbling across the now patchy-looking floor.