The Keith Laumer MEGAPACK®

by Keith Laumer

  “Your death will not be an easy one, Terrestrial,” Shluh said in Terran.

  “No easier than I can help,” Retief said. “Shut up for now, I want to think.”

  * * * *

  The car passed the last of the relief-crusted mounds, sped along between tilled fields.

  “Slow down,” Retief said. The driver obeyed.

  “Turn down this side road.”

  The car bumped off onto an unpaved surface, threaded its way back among tall stalks.

  “Stop here.” The car stopped. It blew off steam and sat trembling as the hot engine idled roughly.

  Retief opened the door, took his foot off Shluh.

  “Sit up,” he ordered. “You two in front listen carefully.” Shluh sat up, rubbing his throat.

  “Three of you are getting out here,” Retief said. “Good old Shluh is going to stick around to drive for me. If I get that nervous feeling that the cops are after me, I’ll toss him out to confuse them. That will be pretty messy, at high speed. Shluh, tell them to sit tight until dark and forget about sounding any alarms. I’d hate to see your carapace split and spill loveable you all over the pavement.”

  “To burst your throat sac, evil-smelling beast!” Shluh hissed.

  “Sorry, I haven’t got one.” Retief put the gun under Shluh’s ear. “Tell them, Shluh. I can drive myself, in a pinch.”

  “To do as the foreign one says; to stay hidden until dark,” Shluh said.

  “Everybody out,” Retief said. “And take this with you.” He nudged the unconscious Groacian. “Shluh, you get in the driver’s seat. You others stay where I can see you.”

  Retief watched as the Groaci silently followed instructions.

  “All right, Shluh,” Retief said softly. “Let’s go. Take me to Groac Spaceport by the shortest route that doesn’t go through the city. And be very careful about making any sudden movements.”

  * * * *

  Forty minutes later, Shluh steered the car up to the sentry-guarded gate in the security fence surrounding the military enclosure at Groac Spaceport.

  “Don’t yield to any rash impulses,” Retief whispered as a crested Groacian soldier came up. Shluh grated his mandibles in helpless fury.

  “Drone-master Shluh, Internal Security,” he croaked. The guard tilted his eyes toward Retief.

  “The guest of the Autonomy,” Shluh added. “To let me pass or to rot in this spot, fool?”

  “To pass, Drone-master,” the sentry mumbled. He was still staring at Retief as the car moved jerkily away.

  “You are as good as pegged out on the hill in the pleasure pits now, Terrestrial,” Shluh said in Terran. “Why do you venture here?”

  “Pull over there in the shadow of the tower and stop,” Retief said.

  Shluh complied. Retief studied the row of four slender ships parked on the ramp, navigation lights picked out against the early dawn colors of the sky.

  “Which of those boats are ready to lift?” Retief demanded.

  Shluh swiveled a choleric eye.

  “All of them are shuttles; they have no range. They will not help you.”

  “To answer the question, Shluh, or to get another crack on the head.”

  “You are not like other Terrestrials! You are a mad dog!”

  “We’ll rough out a character sketch of me later. Are they all fueled up? You know the procedures here. Did those shuttles just get in, or is that the ready line?”

  “Yes. All are fueled and ready for take-off.”

  “I hope you’re right, Shluh. You and I are going to drive over and get in one; if it doesn’t lift, I’ll kill you and try the next. Let’s go.”

  “You are mad! I have told you—these boats have not more than ten thousand ton-seconds capacity. They are useful only for satellite runs.”

  “Never mind the details. Let’s try the first in line.”

  Shluh let in the clutch and the steam car clanked and heaved, rolled off toward the line of boats.

  “Not the first in line,” Shluh said suddenly. “The last is the more likely to be fueled. But—”

  “Smart grasshopper,” Retief said. “Pull up to the entry port, hop out and go right up. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “The gangway guard. The challenging of—”

  “More details. Just give him a dirty look and say what’s necessary. You know the technique.”

  * * * *

  The car passed under the stern of the first boat, then the second. There was no alarm. It rounded the third and shuddered to a stop by the open port of the last vessel.

  “Out,” Retief said. “To make it snappy.”

  Shluh stepped from the car, hesitated as the guard came to attention, then hissed at him and mounted the steps. The guard looked wonderingly at Retief, mandibles slack.

  “An outworlder!” he said. He unlimbered his scatter-gun. “To stop here, meat-faced one.”

  Shluh froze, turned.

  “To snap to attention, litter-mate of drones!” Retief rasped in Groacian. The guard jumped, waved his eye stalks and came to attention.

  “About face!” Retief hissed. “Hell out of here—to march!”

  The guard tramped off across the ramp. Retief took the steps two at a time, slammed the port shut behind himself.

  “I’m glad your boys have a little discipline, Shluh,” Retief said. “What did you say to him?”

  “I but—”

  “Never mind. We’re in. Get up to the control compartment.”

  “What do you know of Groacian naval vessels?”

  “Plenty. This is a straight copy from the lifeboat you lads hijacked. I can run it. Get going.”

  Retief followed Shluh up the companionway into the cramped control room.

  “Tie in, Shluh,” Retief ordered.

  “This is insane!” Shluh said. “We have only fuel enough for a one-way transit to the satellite. We cannot enter orbit, nor can we land again! To lift this boat is death—unless your destination is our moon.”

  “The moon is down, Shluh,” Retief said. “And so are we. But not for long. Tie in.”

  “Release me,” Shluh gasped. “I promise you immunity.”

  “If I have to tie you in myself, I might bend your head in the process.”

  Shluh crawled onto the couch, strapped in.

  “Give it up,” he said. “I will see that you are reinstated—with honor! I will guarantee a safe conduct.”

  “Countdown,” Retief said. He threw in the autopilot.

  “It is death!” Shluh screeched.

  The gyros hummed; timers ticked; relays closed. Retief lay relaxed on the acceleration pad. Shluh breathed noisily, his mandibles clicking rapidly.

  “That I had fled in time,” Shluh said in a hoarse whisper. “This is not a good death….”

  “No death is a good death,” Retief said. “Not for a while yet.” The red light flashed on in the center of the panel, and abruptly sound filled the universe. The ship trembled, lifted.

  Retief could hear Shluh’s whimpering even through the roar of the drive.

  * * * *

  “Perihelion,” Shluh said dully. “To begin now the long fall back.”

  “Not quite,” Retief said. “I figure eighty-five seconds to go.” He scanned the instruments, frowning.

  “We will not reach the surface, of course,” Shluh said in Terran. “The pips on the screen are missiles. We have a rendezvous in space, Retief. In your madness, may you be content.”

  “They’re fifteen minutes behind us, Shluh. Your defenses are sluggish.”

  “Nevermore to burrow in the gray sands of Groac,” Shluh said.

  Retief’s eyes were fixed on a dial face.

  “Any time now,” he said softly. Shluh counted his eye stalks.

  “What do you seek?”

  Retief stiffened.

  “Look at the screen,” he said. Shluh looked. A glowing point, off-center, moving rapidly across the grid….

  “What—”

  “La
ter!”

  Shluh watched as Retief’s eyes darted from one needle to another.

  “How….”

  “For your own neck’s sake, Shluh,” Retief said, “you’d better hope this works.” He flipped the sending key.

  “2396 TR-42 G, this is the Terrestrial Consul at Groac, aboard Groac 902, vectoring on you at an MP fix of 91/54/94. Can you read me? Over.”

  “What forlorn gesture is this?” Shluh whispered. “You cry in the night to emptiness!”

  “Button your mandibles,” Retief snapped, listening. There was a faint hum of stellar background noise. Retief repeated his call, waited.

  “Maybe they hear but can’t answer,” he muttered. He flipped the key.

  “2396, you’ve got twenty seconds to lock a tractor beam on me, or I’ll be past you like a shot of rum past a sailor’s bridgework….”

  “To call into the void!” Shluh said. “To—”

  “Look at the DV screen.”

  * * * *

  Shluh twisted his head, looked. Against the background mist of stars, a shape loomed, dark and inert.

  “It is…a ship!” Shluh said. “A monster ship!”

  “That’s her,” Retief said. “Nine years and a few months out of New Terra on a routine mapping mission. The missing cruiser—the IVS Terrific.”

  “Impossible!” Shluh hissed. “The hulk swings in a deep cometary orbit.”

  “Right. And now it’s making its close swing past Groac.”

  “You think to match orbits with the derelict? Without power? Our meeting will be a violent one, if that is your intent.”

  “We won’t hit; we’ll make our pass at about five thousand yards.”

  “To what end, Terrestrial? You have found your lost ship. Then what? Is this glimpse worth the death we die?”

  “Maybe they’re not dead,” Retief said.

  “Not dead?” Shluh lapsed into Groacian. “To have died in the burrow of one’s youth. To have burst my throat sac ere I embarked with a mad alien to call up the dead.”

  “2396, make it snappy,” Retief called. The speaker crackled heedlessly. The dark image on the screen drifted past, dwindling now.

  “Nine years, and the mad one speaking as to friends,” Shluh raved. “Nine years dead, and still to seek them.”

  “Another twenty seconds,” Retief said softly, “and we’re out of range. Look alive, boys.”

  “Was this your plan, Retief?” Shluh asked in Terran. “Did you flee Groac and risk all on this slender thread?”

  “How long would I have lasted in one of your Groaci prisons?”

  “Long and long, my Retief,” Shluh hissed, “under the blade of an artist.”

  Abruptly, the ship trembled, seemed to drag, rolling the two passengers in their couches. Shluh hissed as the restraining harness cut into him. The shuttle boat was pivoting heavily, upending. Crushing acceleration forces built. Shluh gasped and cried out shrilly.

  “What…is…it?”

  “It looks,” Retief said, “like we’ve had a little bit of luck.”

  V

  “On our second pass,” the gaunt-faced officer said, “they let fly with something. I don’t know how it got past our screens. It socked home in the stern and put the main pipe off the air. I threw full power to the emergency shields, and broadcast our identification on a scatter that should have hit every receiver within a parsec. Nothing. Then the transmitter blew. I was a fool to send the boat down but I couldn’t believe, somehow….”

  “In a way it’s lucky you did, Captain. That was my only lead.”

  “They tried to finish us after that. But with full power to the screens, nothing they had could get through. Then they called on us to surrender.”

  Retief nodded. “I take it you weren’t tempted?”

  “More than you know. It was a long swing out on our first circuit. Then, coming back in, we figured we’d hit. As a last resort I would have pulled back power from the screens and tried to adjust the orbit with the steering jets. But the bombardment was pretty heavy; I don’t think we’d have made it. Then we swung past and headed out again. We’ve got a three year period. Don’t think I didn’t consider giving up.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “The information we have is important. We’ve got plenty of stores aboard. Enough for another ten years, if necessary. Sooner or later, I knew Search Command would find us.”

  Retief cleared his throat. “I’m glad you stuck with it, Captain. Even a backwater world like Groac can kill a lot of people when it runs amok.”

  “What I didn’t know,” the captain went on, “was that we’re not in a stable orbit. We’re going to graze atmosphere pretty deeply this pass, and in another sixty days we’d be back to stay. I guess the Groaci would be ready for us.”

  “No wonder they were sitting on this so tight,” Retief said. “They were almost in the clear.”

  “And you’re here now,” the captain said. “Nine years, and we weren’t forgotten. I knew we could count on—”

  “It’s over now, Captain,” Retief said. “That’s what counts.”

  “Home,” the captain said. “After nine years….”

  * * * *

  “I’d like to take a look at the films you mentioned,” Retief said. “The ones showing the installations on the satellite.”

  The captain complied. Retief watched as the scene unrolled, showing the bleak surface of the tiny moon as the Terrific had seen it nine years before.

  In harsh black and white, row on row of identical hulls cast long shadows across the pitted metallic surface of the satellite. Retief whistled.

  “They had quite a little surprise in store. Your visit must have panicked them.”

  “They should be about ready to go, by now. Nine years….”

  “Hold the picture,” Retief said suddenly. “What’s that ragged black line across the plain there?”

  “I think it’s a fissure. The crystalline structure—”

  “I’ve got what may be an idea,” Retief said. “I had a look at some classified files last night, at the foreign office. One was a progress report on a fissionable stockpile. It didn’t make much sense at the time. Now I get the picture. Which is the ‘north’ end of that crevasse?”

  “At the top of the picture.”

  “Unless I’m badly mistaken, that’s the bomb dump. The Groaci like to tuck things underground. I wonder what a direct hit with a fifty mega-ton missile would do to it?”

  “If that’s an ordnance storage dump,” the captain said, “it’s an experiment I’d like to try.”

  “Can you hit it?”

  “I’ve got fifty heavy missiles aboard. If I fire them in direct sequence, it should saturate the defenses. Yes, I can hit it.”

  “The range isn’t too great?”

  “These are the de luxe models,” the captain smiled balefully. “Video guidance. We could steer them into a bar and park ’em on a stool.”

  “What do you say we try it?”

  “I’ve been wanting a solid target for a long time,” the captain said.

  * * * *

  Retief waved a hand toward the screen.

  “That expanding dust cloud used to be the satellite of Groac, Shluh,” he said. “Looks like something happened to it.”

  The police chief stared at the picture.

  “Too bad,” Retief said. “But then it wasn’t of any importance, was it, Shluh?”

  Shluh muttered incomprehensibly.

  “Just a bare hunk of iron, Shluh. That’s what the foreign office told me when I asked for information.”

  “I wish you’d keep your prisoner out of sight,” the captain said. “I have a hard time keeping my hands off him.”

  “Shluh wants to help, Captain. He’s been a bad boy and I have a feeling he’d like to cooperate with us now. Especially in view of the imminent arrival of a Terrestrial ship, and the dust cloud out there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Captain, you can rid
e it out for another week, contact the ship when it arrives, get a tow in and your troubles are over. When your films are shown in the proper quarter, a task force will come out here. They’ll reduce Groac to a sub-technical cultural level, and set up a monitor system to insure she doesn’t get any more expansionist ideas. Not that she can do much now, with her handy iron mine in the sky gone.”

  “That’s right; and—”

  “On the other hand,” Retief said, “there’s what I might call the diplomatic approach….”

  He explained at length. The captain looked at him thoughtfully.

  “I’ll go along,” he said. “What about this fellow?”

  Retief turned to Shluh. The Groacian shuddered, eye stalks retracted.

  “I will do it,” he said faintly.

  “Right,” Retief said. “Captain, if you’ll have your men bring in the transmitter from the shuttle, I’ll place a call to a fellow named Fith at the foreign office.” He turned to Shluh. “And when I get him, Shluh, you’ll do everything exactly as I’ve told you—or have terrestrial monitors dictating in Groac City.”

  * * * *

  “Quite candidly, Retief,” Counsellor Pardy said, “I’m rather nonplussed. Mr. Fith of the foreign office seemed almost painfully lavish in your praise. He seems most eager to please you. In the light of some of the evidence I’ve turned up of highly irregular behavior on your part, it’s difficult to understand.”

  “Fith and I have been through a lot together,” Retief said. “We understand each other.”

  “You have no cause for complacency, Retief,” Pardy said. “Miss Meuhl was quite justified in reporting your case. Of course, had she known that you were assisting Mr. Fith in his marvelous work, she would have modified her report somewhat, no doubt. You should have confided in her.”

  “Fith wanted to keep it secret, in case it didn’t work out,” Retief said. “You know how it is.”

  “Of course. And as soon as Miss Meuhl recovers from her nervous breakdown, there’ll be a nice promotion awaiting her. The girl more than deserves it for her years of unswerving devotion to Corps policy.”

  “Unswerving,” Retief said. “I’ll sure go along with that.”

  “As well you may, Retief. You’ve not acquitted yourself well in this assignment. I’m arranging for a transfer. You’ve alienated too many of the local people….”