The way he flicked a look over his shoulder as he said this strongly suggested that what he wanted was more bribe than payment.
“No way, aged Afatt,” I intoned. “Those you see before you are not peasant traders but galaxy-famous chart-topping musicians. We are . . . The Stainless Steel Rats!”
His jaw dropped and he stepped back a pace. “Don’t need no rats in Paradise. A rusty, chipped old fedha will do . . .”
“We got a real fan in old Afatt here,” Floyd muttered. “I thought the planet was hip-deep in TV sets?”
A more military Paradisian appeared in the archway. Younger, bigger, and he came complete with studded metal helmet and heavy leather trappings. “What did you say?” he said as he swung a shining and singularly nasty looking ax.
“You heard me, Sunny. I don’t repeat myself for the troops.”
This provoked a twisted snarl and a barked command.
“Guard-fall out. We got some sheot shaggers here that need a lesson in civility.”
This was followed instantly by the clanking of metal and the thud of running feet.
Many of them.
CHAPTER 13
There were a lot of them, armed with a collection of nasty and lethal-looking weapons. I must learn to control impetuosity in speech on this slumworld. Think quickly, Jim, before things get any worse.
“I tempted a jest, good sir. I will be happy to repeat myself for your benefit. You, and your good men, have the pleasure of being in the presence of the finest musicians in the known galaxy! ”
As I spoke I touched the remote control on the side of my backpack and a mighty organ sounded out the opening bars of “Mutants of Mercury.” Floyd and Steengo quickly joined in with the opening lines.
One head good-but two heads better-
Got brown eyes like an English setter . . . The effect of this little jingle of genetic jest was very impressive. As a man the soldiers roared aloud and surged towards us.
“Do we fight or run?” Floyd said grimly, grabbing at his sword.
I started to shout fight-but at the last instant called out
“Listen!”
For they had forgotten about their weapons and were shouting with joy!
“It’s them, like on the Galactic Greasecutter show . . .”
“The hairy, ugly one-that’s Floyd!”
“I want to hear `How Much Is the Snakey in the Snakepit’ ! ”
Then they were around us, trying to shake our hands and emitting hoarse cries of fannish enthusiasm.
“But-but-” I but-butted. “Your official greeter never heard of us?”
The first soldier, snarls now turned to smiles, not too gently pushed the old man aside. “Afatt never looks at the boggle gox. But we do! Let me tell you it was like suicidesville around here when we heard that you were sent down. Should have known that you would have to end up here. Wait until the boys in the barracks hear about this. There’ll be a crackup in the old kaserne tonight!”
They escorted us cheerily under the arch and onto the drillfield beyond, our new host proudly leading the way.
“I’m Ljotur, Sergeant of the Guard. You all take it easy while I call this in. Drinks!” he ordered his men. “And food whatever they want.”
This was more like it. The beer tasted like beer, although it was of an interesting green color. The soldiers crowded close, hanging on every word we said, so I chomped my jaw to get Tremearne’s attention and made my report to him in the form of a speech.
“Gallant warriors of Paradise-we are overwhelmed by your greeting. You have welcomed we drug-ridden convicts as heroes to your fair land. You ply us with food and drink and, by your loud cheers, I feel we have a beautiful future here.”
“I certainly hope so,” Tremearne’s voice said inside my head. “But until you find out the score on this male female thing I am ordering Madonette to stay where she is.”
“I agree completely,” I called out. “Don’t you agree completely, guys, that this is the warmest welcome we have ever received?”
My companions nodded without interrupting the flow of food and drink and there were gurgled shouts of agreement from all sides as more beer vanished. I was wiping my lips with the back of my hand when Ljotur reappeared.