Neither of us realized that the TV was also the communicator until a bell pinged and the scene of space bombardment of a helpless planet gave way to the always repellent features of Gar-Baj. Luckily the diGriz reflexes were still operating. Bolivar dived aside out of the range of the pickup while I kept my back turned while I zipped up my neck.
“I do not wish to disturb you, Jeem, but the War Council meets and wishes your presence. The messenger will show you the way. Death to the crunchies.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muffled as his image faded, trying to get my head into the right position among the folds of plastic flesh. A grating sound issued from an annunciator by the door.
“Get that, robot,” I said. “Say I’ll be there in a moment. Then break out my train.”
When we issued forth, the monster who had been sent to fetch me goggled his eyes at the scene. Impressive too since he had a couple of dozen eyes that suddenly protruded a good metre on stalks.
“Lead the way, spaghetti head,” I ordered.
He went and I followed—followed in turn by my robot who held the free end of the train that was buttoned about my shoulders. This attractive garment was a good three meters of shining purple fabric picked out with gold and silver stars and edged with heavy shocking-pink lace. Yummy! Luckily I didn’t have to look at the thing, but I pitied poor Bolivar who did. I was sure the locals would love it. Not that I needed a train, but it seemed the simplest way to keep Bolivar by me at all times.
The council was impressed, if globbles, slurps and grunts are meant to be flattery, and I went twice around the council chamber before taking the indicated seat.
“Welcome lovely Sleepery Jeem to our War Council,” Gar-Baj slobbered. “Rarely has this chamber been graced by such a gorgeous presence. If all the Geshtunken are like you—and good fighters too I am sure—this war will be won on morale alone.”
“A propaganda film,” something black, damp and repulsive gurgled from the far side of the room. “Let us share our pleasure with the troops in the field and reveal this lovely presence to all. Also let’s mention all the extra combat troops we will soon have.”
“Great idea! Wonderful!”
There were shouts of acclaim and joy from all sides accompanied by a feverish waving of tentacles, suckers, eye-stalks, antennae, claws and other things too repulsive to mention. I almost lost my lunch but smiled and clattered my teeth together to show how pleased I was. I don’t know how long this sort of nonsense would have gone on if the secretary-thing had not hammered loudly on a large bell with a metal hammer.
“We have urgent business, gentlethings. Can we get on with it?”
There were angry shouts of “spoilsport”—and worse—and the secretary cringed. It was a repulsive creature, like a squashed frog with a furry tail and a sort of leechlike sucker where the head should be. It flapped its forearms apologetically, but nevertheless went right back to work when the shouting had died down.
“This four thousand and thirteenth meeting of the War Council will come to order. Minutes of the last meeting are available if any of you care. New business is battle order, logistic invasion plans, bombardment reserve management and interspecies food supply availability.” The secretary waited until the groans had died away before it continued. “However, before we begin we are asking our new member for a brief speech to be broadcast with the evening news. We are recording, Sleepery Jeem. Will you oblige us with your address…”
There was a lot of splattering slopping sounds from many tentacles, which I realized passed for applause, and I bowed into the camera’s eye, hitching my train up a bit as I did.
“Dear wet, slimy, soggy friends of the galactic cluster,” I began, then waited with eyes lowered coyly until the applause died away. “I cannot tell what pleasure beats in my four hearts to squat here among you today. From the moment we on Geshtunken discovered that there were others like us we oozed with eagerness to join forces. Chance made this possible and I am here today to say that we are yours, united in this great crusade to wipe the pallid pipestems from the face of our galaxy. We are known for our fighting abilities…” I kicked a hole through the lectern with the words and everything cheered, “…and wish to bring our skills to this holy cause. In the words of our Queen, the Royal Engela Rdenrundt, you can’t hold a good Geshtunken down—nor would you want to try!”
I sat down to more excited shouts and crossed my claws, hoping my little ruse had succeeded. No one seemed to have noticed. It was a long shot that might just work. Wherever Angelina was on this planet there was a chance that she might be able to get near a communicator. If so she might watch the news and if she did she would certainly recognize the name under which I had first met her, some years ago. A long shot, but better than nothing.
My fellow monsters were not really happy with work, but the sordid little secretary managed to drive them to it eventually. I memorized all the essentials of the various war plans and, being a newcomer, offered no suggestions. Though when I was asked how many combat troops we Geshtunken could field I gave inflated figures that got them all happy again. It went on like this for far too long and I wasn’t the only one who cheered when the secretary announced that the meeting was adjourned. Gar-Baj writhed up and laid what I can only assume was a friendly tentacle across my tail.
“Why not come to my place first, cutey? We can crack a crock of rotted slung juice and have a nibble or two of pyekk. A good idea?”
“Wonderful, Gar-baby, but Sleepery is sleepy and must get the old beauty rest. After that we must get together. Don’t call me—I’ll call you.”
I swept out before he could answer, the robot rushing after with the end of my train. Down the rusty corridors to the door to my own place, hurrying through it happily to escape the passionate embraces of my loathy Lothario.
But the door slammed shut before I could touch it and a blaster shot burned the floor next to me. I froze as a gravelly voice ground in my ear.
“Move and the next one is right through your rotten head.”
Eight
“I’m unarmed!” I shouted in a voice just as hoarse as that of my unseen attacker. “I’m reaching for the sky—don’t shoot!” Was that voice somehow familiar? Dare I risk a look? I was trying to make my mind up when Bolivar made it up for me. He popped open the robot and stuck his head out.
“Hi, James,” he called cheerily. “What’s wrong with your throat? And don’t shoot that ugly alien because your very own dad is inside.”
I risked a look now to see James lurking behind a piece of furniture, jaw and blaster hanging limply with astonishment. Angelina, tastefully garbed in a fur bikini, stepped in from the other room holstering her own gun.
“Crawl out of that thing at once,” she ordered, and I struggled free of its plastic embrace and into her decidedly superior one. “Yum,” she yummed after a long and passionate kiss was terminated only by lack of oxygen. “It has been light years since I’ve seen you.”
“Likewise. I see you got my message.”
“When that creature mentioned that name on the news broadcast I knew you were involved somehow. I had no way of knowing you were inside, which was why we came with the guns.”
“Well, you are here now and that is what counts, and I love your outfit,” I looked at James’s fur shorts, “and James’s as well. I see you go to the same tailor.”
“They took all our clothes away,” James said, in the same rough voice. I looked at him more closely. “Does that scar on your throat have anything to do with the way you talk?” I asked. “You bet. I got it when we escaped. But the alien that gave it to me, that’s where we got the fur we’re wearing.”
“That’s my boy. Bolivar, crack a bottle of champagne out of our survival kit, if you please. We shall celebrate this reunion while your mother explains just what has happened since we saw her last.”
“Quite simple,” she said, wrinkling her nose delightfully at the bubbles. “We were engulfed by one of their battleships I’m sure you saw
that happen.”
“One of the worst moments of my life!” I moaned.
“Poor darling. As you can imagine we felt about the same way. We fired all the guns but the chamber is lined with collapsium and it did no good. Then we held our fire to get the aliens when they came to get us, but that was no good either. The ceiling of the chamber came down and crushed the ship and we had to get out. That was when they disarmed us. They thought. I remembered that little business you did on Burada with the poisoned fingernails and we did the same here. Even our toe nails, so when they took our boots away it helped us. So we fought until our guns were empty, were grabbed, taken to a prison or a torture chamber—we didn’t stay long enough to find out—then we polished off our captors and got away.”
“Wonderful! But that was endless days ago. How have you managed since?”
“Very well, thank you, with the aid of Cill Airne here.”
She waved her hand as she said this and five men jumped in from the other room and waved their weapons at me. It was disconcerting yet I stood firm seeing that Angelina was unmoved by the display. They had pallid skins and long black hair. Their clothing, if it could be called that, was made of bits and pieces of alien skin held together by scraps of wire. Their axes and swords looked crude—but serviceable and sharp.
“Estas granda plezuro renkonti vin,” I said, but they were unmoved. “If they don’t speak Esperanto what do they talk?” I asked Angelina.
“Their own language of which I have learned a few words. Dogheobhair gan dearmad taisce gach seoid,” she added. They nodded in agreement at this, clattered their weapons and emitted shrill war cries.
“You made quite a hit with them,” I said.
“I told them that you were my husband, the leader of our tribe, and you had come here to destroy the enemy and lead them to victory.”
“True, true,” I said, clasping my hands and shaking them over my head while they cheered again. “Bolivar, break out the cheap booze for our allies while your mom tells me just what the hell is going on here.”
Angelina sipped at her champagne and frowned delicately. “I’m not sure of all the details,” she said. “The language barrier and all that. But the Cill Airne appear to be the original inhabitants of this planet, or rather settlers. They’re human enough, undoubtedly a colony cut off during the Breakdown. How or why they came this far from the other settled worlds we may never know. Anyway, they had a good thing going here until the aliens arrived. It was hatred at first sight. The aliens invaded and they fought back, and are apparently still fighting back. The aliens did everything they could to wipe them out, destroying the surface of this planet and covering it, bit by bit, with metal. It didn’t work. The humans penetrated the alien buildings and have lived ever since hidden in the walls and foundations.”
“Stainless steel rats!” I cried. “My sympathy goes out to them.”
“I thought it might. So after James and I escaped and were running down a corridor, not really sure where we were going, this little door opened in the floor and they popped out and waved us inside. That’s when the last alien guard jumped us and James dispatched him. The Cill Airne appreciated this and skinned him for us. Perhaps we couldn’t talk their language, but mayhem speaks louder than words. And that’s really about all that happened to us. We have been lurking around in wainscottings and putting together a plan to capture one of their spacers. And to free the admirals.”
“You know where they are?”
“Of course. And not too far away from here.”
“Then we need a plan. And I need a good night’s rest. Why don’t we sleep on it and do battle in the morn?”
“Because there is no time like the present and besides, I know what you have on your mind. Into battle!”
I sighed. “Agreed. What do we do next?’
That was decided when the door burst open and my paramour Gar-Baj came charging in. He must have had love on his mind, if the pink nighty he was wearing meant anything, so he was a little off his guard.
“Jeem, my sweet—why do you stand there unmoving with your neck open? Awwrrk!”
He added this last when the first sword got him in the hams. There was a brief battle, which he lost quite quickly, though not quickly enough. He was not completely in the room when the fight started and when his tail was cut off the last bit, equipped undoubtedly with a rudimentary brain of its own, went slithering back down the corridor and out of sight.
“We had better make tracks,” I said.
“To the escape tunnel,” Angelina cried.
“Is it big enough for my alien disguise?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then hold all activity for a few moments while I think,” I said, then thought. Quickly. “I have it. Angelina—do you know your way around this monsters’ maze?”
“I do indeed.”
“Wonderful. Bolivar, it’s your chance to walk. Out of the robot and let your mother get in. Brief her on the controls and then go with the others. We’ll meet you at whatever place it is you have been staying.”
“How considerate,” Angelina beamed. “My feet were getting tired. James, show your brother the way and we’ll join you later. Better take along some chops from this creature you have just butchered since we have a few more coming to dinner.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“The admirals. We can free them with all this weaponry you have imported and I will lead them to safety in the subterranean ways.”
There was instant agreement on the plan. In the diGriz family we are used to making up our minds rather quickly, while the Cill Airne had learned to do the same in their constant war against the enemy. Some moldering floor coverings were thrown back to reveal a trapdoor that was levered up. I was beginning to think that the aliens were not very bright if they let this sort of thing happen under their very noses, or smelling tentacles or whatever. Bolivar and James dropped into the opening followed by our allies who exited with many shouts of Scadan, Scadan!
“It’s really quite cozy in here,” Angelina said, slipping into place in the robot. “Is there a closed circuit radio for communication?”
“There is. Circuit thirteen there, a switch near your right hand.”
“I’ve found it,” she said, then her voice spoke into my ear. “You had better lead the way and I’ll give you instructions as we go.”
“Your slightest wish sends me forth.”
I stomped out into the corridor with the robot scuttling after. The severed section of tail had vanished. I kicked and buckled the metal door until it was jammed into its frame, to confuse the pursuit as much as possible, then led the way down the metal corridor.
It was a long, and frankly boring, trip through the metallic city. The aliens did not appear to be good planners and the constructions themselves seemed to have just been added on with little reference to what had come before. One minute we would be walking down a rusty, riveted corridor with a sagging ceiling—and the next would be crossing a mesh-metal field under the open sky. Sometimes the walkways were used as watercourses as well and I would thrash along at great speed propelled by my wildly waving tail. The robot was too heavy for this and could only roll along the bottom. We passed through warehouses, factories—have you ever seen a thousand things like decaying alligators all working drill presses at once?—dormitories, and other locales that defy description. And everywhere were the loathies, chattering away in Esperanto and giving me a big wave as I passed. Very nice. I waved back and muttered curses inside the head.
“I’m getting a little tired of this,” I confided to Angelina on our closed circuit.
“Courage, my brave, we are almost there. Just a few kilometers more.”
A barred gate did eventually appear ahead, guarded by spear-bearing tooth-rattling creatures who began a great noise when I appeared. They banged their spears on the floor and shouted and chomped so strongly that bits of splintered teeth flew in all directions.
“Jeem, Jeem!” they cri
ed. And “Geshtunken forever! Welcome to our noble cause!” They were obviously all fans of the evening news broadcast and had caught my shtick. I raised my claws and waited until the tumult died.
“Thank you, thank you,” I cried. “It is my great pleasure to serve beside nauseating creatures like yourselves, spawn of some loathsome world far out among the decaying stars.” They were prone to flattery and cried aloud for more. “During my brief time here I have seen things that creep, crawl, wriggle and flop, but I must say that you lot are the creepiest, crawlingest, wriggliest and biggest flop I have met yet.” Time out for hoarse shouts of repulsive joy, then I got down to business. “We on Geshtunken have seen only one shipload of pallid-crunchies which we instantly butchered by reflex. I understand you have a whole satellite load of them here. Is that true?”
“It is indeed, Jeem the Sleepery,” one of them spattered. I saw now that it had gold comets screwed into the sides of its head, undoubtedly denoting high rank of some kind. I addressed my questions in its direction.
“That is good news indeed. Are they in here?”
“Indeed they are.”
“You don’t have an old damaged one you don’t need any more for me to disembowel or eat or something?”
“Would that I could to please one as cute as yourself, but, alas, no. All of them are needed for information purposes. And after that the roster is already full, highest rank first, with volunteer disembowelers.”
“Well, too bad. Is there any chance I can get a peep at them? Know your enemy and all that.”
“Just from here. No one is allowed closer without a pass. Just slip an eyeball or two through the bars and you’ll see them over there.”
One of my fake eyeballs on stalks did have a TV pickup in it and I slithered it through and turned up the magnification. Sure enough, there they were. And a scruffy lot too. They shuffled in little circles or lay on the deck, gray-bearded and gaunt, the rags of their uniforms hanging from them. They may have been admirals but I was still sorry for them. Even admirals were human once. They would be freed!
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