Retief - Retief of the CDT Part 30

"Of course, sir. How shallow of me not to have seen it at once." Magnan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Naturally, the task calls for a man of wide experience-"

"With a total contempt for deadly personal danger," someone put in.

"Preferably without a family," Magnan added, nodding.

"Too bad that lets me out," a Deputy a.s.sistant Undersecretary said briskly. "As you know, I'm the sole support of twelve cats and a most demanding parakeet-"

"I wasn't thinking of you, Henry," Thunderstroke said severely. "I had in mind a more senior diplomat; a man of lofty IQ, unshakeable principle, and unquestioned dexterity in the verbal arena."

"Good lord, sir," Magnan blurted. "I appreciate your confidence, but my duties here-"

"Unfortunately," Thunderstroke bored on, "the files have failed to produce the name of any such paragon; hence, I must make do with the material at hand."

"Well!" Magnan muttered under his breath, then paled as Thunderstroke fixed him with an imperious eye.

"I a.s.sume your inoculations are in order?" the Undersecretary inquired coldly.

"Mine, sir?" Magnan said, pus.h.i.+ng his chair back and rising hastily. "Actually, my hayfever shot is due in just under half an hour-"

"I suggest you ask for a heavy dosage of antiradiation drugs while you're there," the a.s.sistant for ET Affairs said cheerfully. "And of course a teta.n.u.s shot wouldn't do any harm."

"Kindly be seated, Magnan," Thunderstroke barked. "Now, you'll be going in in a plainly marked courier vessel; I suggest you exercise caution as you approach the battle flotillas; the Slox are said to be even more trigger-happy than the notoriously impetuous Groaci."

"I'm to go into that hornet's nest, sir-in an unarmed boat?"

"You'll be armed with instructions, Magnan. Buck up, man! This is no time to show the white feather!"

Magnan sank into his chair. "As for myself, I'm delighted, of course," he said breathlessly. "I was just thinking of all those innocent crew members."

"I'd consider that aspect, Magnan. And, of course you're right. It would be folly to risk the lives of an entire crew."

Magnan brightened. "Therefore, you'll be dropped a fractional A.U. from the scene of action in a fast one-man scout."

"A one-man boat? But-" Magnan paused. "But unfortunately," he went on in tones of relief, "I don't know how to pilot one."

"Why not?" Thunderstroke demanded.

"Sector regs discourage it," Magnan said crisply. "Only last month a chap in my department received a severe dressing-down for engaging in acrobatics over Lake Prabchinc-"

"Oh? What's this fellow's name?"

"Retief, sir; but as I said, he's already received a reprimand, so it won't be necessary-"

"Retief," Thunderstroke made a note. "Very well. Make that a two-man scout, Magnan."

"But-"

"No buts, Magnan! This is war-or it will be if you fail! And time is of the essence! I'll expect you and this Retief fellow to be on the way to the battle zone in an hour."

"But, sir! Two diplomats against two fleets?"

"Hm. Phrased in that fas.h.i.+on, it does sound a bit unfair. Still-they started it! Let them take the consequences!"

2.

Strapped into the confining seat of the thirty-foot skiff waiting in the drop-bay of the Corps transport, Magnan watched the launch clock nervously.

"Actually," he said, "the Undersecretary had his heart set on a one-man mission; but at my insistence he agreed to send me along with you.

"I wondered who my benefactor was," Retief said. "Nice to know you were thinking of me."

"Retief-are you implying-" Magnan broke off as the voice of the Captain of the mother s.h.i.+p rang from the panel speaker:

"Fifteen seconds, gentlemen. Say, I hope your policies are all paid up; from what my translator tells me about the transmissions those boys are exchanging up ahead, you're going to arrive just in time for M minute."

"I wish he'd trip the launch lever," Magnan snapped. "I'll be profoundly happy to depart this hulk, if only to be away from that gloating voice."

I heard that," the Captain said. "What's the matter, no sense of humor?"

"I'm convulsed," Magnan said.

"Better unconvulse," came the swift suggestion. "This is it. Happy landings!" There was a slam of relays, a thud, a jolt that dimmed the pa.s.sengers' vision for a long, dizzying moment; when it cleared, black s.p.a.ce dotted with fiery points glared from the screens. Astern, the transport dwindled and was gone.

"I'm picking them up already," Retief said, manipulating the controls of the R-screen. "Our daredevil Captain practically dropped us in their midst."

"Has the shooting started?" Magnan gasped.

"Not yet; but from the look of those battle formations, it won't be long."

"Maybe we ought to transmit our plea for peace from here," Magnan said hurriedly. "Something eloquent to appeal to their finer natures, with just a smidgin of veiled threat on the side."

"I have a feeling it's going to take more than sparkling conversation to stop these fellows," Retief said. "Anybody who owns a brand-new battlewagon has a natural yen to see if it works."

"I've been thinking," Magnan said abruptly. "You know how short the CDT is of trained personnel; now that we've seen the hopelessness of the task, it's our duty to salvage what we can from the debacle. Besides, an eyewitness report will be of inestimable value to the Undersecretary when the Board of Inquiry starts digging into the question of how he allowed a war to start right under our noses."

"I'm with you so far, Mr. Magnan."

"That being the case," Magnan went on, "if you should insist on withdrawing from the scene at this point, I hardly see how I could prevent you."

"You're in command, Mr. Magnan," Retief pointed out. "But I have a distinct feeling that our reception back at Sector would be less than enthusiastic if we don't have at least a few blast burns on the hull to show for our trouble."

"But, Retief!" Magnan pointed at the screen on which the long, deadly looking shape of a Groaci cruiser was growing steadily: "Look at that monster, abristle with guns from stem to stern! How can you reason with that kind of firepower?"

At that moment a crackle of static blared from the screen. A pale, alien visage with five stalked eyes stared out at the Terrans from under a flared war helmet.

"To identify yourselves at once, rash interlopers!" a weak voice hissed in sibilant Groaci. "To be gone instanter or suffer dire consequences!"