“Now that we understand each other,” said Retief, “lead me to your headquarters.”
* * *
Twenty minutes’ walk into the desert brought Retief to a low rampart of thorn branches: the Flap-jacks’ outer defensive line against Terry forays. It would be as good a place as any to wait for the next move by the Flap-jacks. He sat down, eased the weight of his captive off his back, keeping a firm thumb in place. If his analysis of the situation was correct, a Flap-jack picket should be along before too long . . .
A penetrating beam of red light struck Retief in the face, then blinked off. He got to his feet. The captive Flap-jack rippled its fringe in an agitated way. Retief tensed his thumb.
“Sit tight,” he said. “Don’t try to do anything hasty . . .” His remarks were falling on deaf ears—or no ears at all—but the thumb spoke as loudly as words.
There was a slither of sand, then another. Retief became aware of a ring of presences drawing closer.
Retief tightened his grip on the creature. He could see a dark shape now, looming up almost to his own six-three. It appeared that the Flap-jacks came in all sizes.
A low rumble sounded, like a deep-throated growl. It strummed on, then faded out. Retief cocked his head, frowning.
“Try it two octaves higher,” he said.
“Awwrrp! Sorry. Is that better?” a clear voice came from the darkness.
“That’s fine,” Retief said. “I’m here to arrange an exchange of prisoners.”
“Prisoners? But we have no prisoners.”
“Sure you have. Me. Is it a deal?”
“Ah, yes, of course. Quite equitable. What guarantees do you require?”
“The word of a gentleman is sufficient.” Retief released his captive. It flopped once and disappeared into the darkness.
“If you’d care to accompany me to our headquarters,” the voice said, “we can discuss our mutual concerns in comfort.”
“Delighted.”
Red lights blinked briefly. Retief, glimpsing a gap in the thorny barrier, stepped through it. He followed dim shapes across warm sand to a low cave-like entry, faintly lit with a reddish glow.
“I must apologize for the awkward design of our comfort-dome,” said the voice. “Had we known we would be honored by a visit.”
“Think nothing of it,” Retief said. “We diplomats are trained to crawl.”
Inside, with knees bent and head ducked under the five-foot ceiling, Retief looked around at the walls of pink-toned nacre, a floor like burgundy-colored glass spread with silken rugs, and a low table of polished red granite set out with silver dishes and rose-crystal drinking tubes.
“Let me congratulate you,” the voice said. Retief turned. An immense Flap-jack, hung with crimson trappings, rippled at his side. The voice issued from a disk strapped to its back. “Your skirmish-forms fight well. I think we will find in each other worthy adversaries.”
“Thanks. I’m sure the test would be interesting, but I’m hoping we can avoid it.”
“Avoid it?” Retief heard a low humming coming from the speaker in the silence. “Well, let us dine,” the mighty Flap-jack said at last, “we can resolve these matters later. I am called Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns.”
“I’m Retief.” Hoshick waited expectantly. ” . . . of the Mountain of Red Tape,” Retief added.
“Take your place, Retief,” said Hoshick. “I hope you won’t find our rude couches uncomfortable.” Two other large Flap-jacks came into the room and communed silently with Hoshick. “Pray forgive our lack of translating devices,” he said to Retief. “Permit me to introduce my colleagues.”
A small Flap-jack rippled into the chamber bearing on its back a silver tray, laden with aromatic food. The waiter served the diners and filled the drinking tubes with yellow wine.
“I trust you’ll find these dishes palatable,” Hoshick said. “Our metabolisms are much alike, I believe.” Retief tried the food; it had a delicious nut-like flavor. The wine was indistinguishable from Chateau d’Yquem.
“It was an unexpected pleasure to encounter your party here,” Hoshick said. “I confess at first we took you for an indigenous earth-grubbing form, but we were soon disabused of that notion.” He raised a tube, manipulating it deftly with his fringe tentacles. Retief returned the salute and drank.
“Of course,” Hoshick continued, “as soon as we realized that you were sportsmen like ourselves, we attempted to make amends by providing a bit of activity for you. We’ve ordered out our heavier equipment and a few trained skirmishers and soon we’ll be able to give you an adequate show, or so I hope.”
“Additional skirmishers?” said Retief. “How many, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“For the moment, perhaps only a few hundred. Thereafter . . . well, I’m sure we can arrange that between us. Personally I would prefer a contest of limited scope—no nuclear or radiation-effect weapons. Such a bore, screening the spawn for deviations. Though I confess we’ve come upon some remarkably useful sports: the ranger-form such as you made captive, for example. Simple-minded, of course, but a fantastically keen tracker.”
“Oh, by all means,” said Retief. “No atomics. As you pointed out, spawn-sorting is a nuisance, and then too, it’s wasteful of troops.”
“Ah, well, they are after all expendable. But we agree, no atomics. Have you tried the ground-gwack eggs? Rather a speciality of my Mosaic . . .”
“Delicious,” said Retief. “I wonder if you’ve considered eliminating weapons altogether?”
A scratchy sound issued from the disk. “Pardon my laughter,” Hoshick said, “but surely you jest?”
“As a matter of fact,” said Retief, “we ourselves try to avoid the use of weapons.”
“I seem to recall that our first contact of skirmish-forms involved the use of a weapon by one of your units.”
“My apologies,” said Retief. “The—ah—skirmish-form failed to recognize that he was dealing with a sportsman.”
“Still, now that we have commenced so merrily with weapons . . .” Hoshick signaled and the servant refilled the drinking tubes.
“There is an aspect I haven’t yet mentioned,” Retief went on. “I hope you won’t take this personally, but the fact is, our skirmish-forms think of weapons as something one employs only in dealing with certain specific life-forms.”
“Oh? Curious. What forms are those?”
“Vermin. Deadly antagonists, but lacking in caste. I don’t want our skirmish-forms thinking of such worthy adversaries as yourself as vermin.”
“Dear me! I hadn’t realized, of course. Most considerate of you to point it out.” Hoshick clucked in dismay. “I see that skirmish-forms are much the same among you as with us: lacking in perception.” He laughed scratchily.
“Which brings us to the crux of the matter,” Retief said. “You see, we’re up against a serious problem with regard to skirmish-forms: a low birth rate. Therefore we’ve reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actions so dear to the heart of the sportsman. We’ve attempted to put an end to these contests altogether . . .”
Hoshick coughed explosively, sending a spray of wine into the air. “What are you saying?” he gasped. “Are you proposing that Hoshick of the Mosaic of the Two Dawns abandon honor?”
“Sir!” said Retief sternly. “You forget yourself. I, Retief of the Red Tape, merely make an alternate proposal more in keeping with the newest sporting principles.”
“New?” cried Hoshick. “My dear Retief, what a pleasant surprise! I’m enthralled with novel modes. One gets so out of touch. Do elaborate.”
“It’s quite simple, really. Each side selects a representative and the two individuals settle the issue between them.”
“I . . . um . . . I’m afraid I don’t understand. What possible significance could one attach to the activities of a couple of random skirmish-forms?”
“I haven’t made myself clear,” Retief said. He took a sip of wine. “We don’t involve the skirmish-forms at all; that’s quite passé.”
“You don’t mean . . . ?”
“That’s right. You and me.”
* * *
Outside the starlit sand Retief tossed aside the power pistol and followed it with the leather shirt Swazey had lent him. By the faint light he could just make out the towering figure of the Flap-jack rearing up before him, his trappings gone. A silent rank of Flap-jack retainers were grouped behind him.
“I fear I must lay aside the translator now, Retief,” said Hoshick. He sighed and rippled his fringe tentacles. “My spawn-fellows will never credit this. Such a curious turn fashion has taken. How much more pleasant it is to observe the action from a distance.”
“I suggest we use Tennessee rules,” said Retief. “They’re very liberal: biting, gouging, stomping, kneeling, and, of course, choking, as well as the usual punching, shoving, and kicking.”
“Hmmm. These gambits seem geared to forms employing rigid endo-skeletons; I fear I shall be at a disadvantage.”
“Of course,” Retief said, “if you’d prefer a more plebian type of contest . . .”
“By no means. But perhaps we could rule out tentacle-twisting, just to even the balance.”
“Very well. Shall we begin?”