The Return of Retief by Keith Laumer Page A

has,
offered an affront which will doubtless, as the general suggests, elicit a
maximum response from the confounded worms. After all, until now, they have met
with nothing but sweet reasonableness, unless you want to count the abortive
efforts at interference which General Otherday attributes to our extended
patrol units, and even so, their response has been less than conciliatory.
Presented with the outrage to Captain Fump, I shrink from contemplating the
repercussions. The apology must be made at once!"
     
                On
the last words, his voice broke, as did his pencil point as he attempted to jot
a note. Then he looked up, his reddened eye falling in turn on each underling
sitting slumped along the table. "Are there any, ah,
less-than-totally-idiotic proposals, gentlemen?"
     
                "I
have one, which might qualify, Mr. Undersecretary," Retief spoke up,
netting a glare like a fish-spear from the Undersecretary.
     
                "And
what might it be, sir?" Crodfoller grated in an ominous tone.
     
                "Why
not tell him yourself?" Retief suggested, as he unknotted the thong
securing the lumpy sack beside him. He upended the container, and dumped onto
the chair a blunt cylindrical mass which, the assembled diplomats judged from
its restless writhing, was a living creature.
     
     
3
     
                "Whoof,
Retief," a gluey voice issued from the alien, which was decorated on its
upper end-plate with a complex pattern of orifices and tentacular growths, from
which the sound came. "Bagging me up was a pretty cheeky thing to do, you
know—" the complaint was interrupted by a muffled sneeze. "Dusty in
that spud sack, too," the alien continued.
     
                "I
seem to recall that at the time you were quite enthusiastic about it,
Fump," Retief pointed out. "But I didn't bring you here to talk about
all those promises you made when you were begging me to bag you instead of
scragging you."
     
                "A
moment," the Undersecretary interrupted. "You suggest, Mr. Retief,
that the captain was placed in that rather informal container at his own
request?"
     
                "Actually,
I stated it quite definitely, Mr. Undersecretary," Retief corrected.
     
                "Why
in Tophet would he make such a request?" Crodfoller demanded
incredulously.
     
                "Because
it was better'n getting recycled with the rest of the garbage," the alien
pointed out.
     
                "And
why, my dear captain, did you imagine yourself faced with such a Draconian
choice?"
     
                "That,"
Retief spoke up, "was because I was aiming my gun at him with one hand and
holding the bag open with the other. He reached his decision quite
promptly."
     
                "I
bet there's some kind of rule against that," the alien ventured. "A
CDT rule, I mean. Us Rees are practical about stuff like that."
     
                "Don't
make a speech right now, Fump," Retief cut in. "Undersecretary
Crodfoller has something to say to you, I think."
     
                "Sure,
I heard," Fump said impatiently, "the sucker wants to offer me a
bribe to put the hush on the outrage you slipped over on my boys and me. Go
ahead, Herky."
     
                "Uh,
you know my name, Captain Fump," Crodfoller responded in a surprised tone.
     
                "Sure,
our Confidential Source boys are on the ball," the Ree dignitary
confirmed. " 'Hercules Crodfoller'; how could a guy forget a handle like
that?"
     
                "I'm
flattered, Captain," Crodfoller said shyly. "One was unsure that
one's reputation had been noised so far abroad."
     
                "Don't
close out your memoirs just yet," Fump cautioned. "I found your name
in a pamphlet entitled Reliables in Event of Ree Occupation of Tip Space. A
list of easy marks, you know,