Chapter Four

 

            In the chilly cave, Retief and Bill were discussing the curious silent Voice, which they had not heard now for a few moments.

 

            "Maybe it's gone," Bill offered. "Guess Mr. Magnan's not coming back. Let's get outa here, Mr. Retief. This place gives me the willies, and Small and Nudine'll be wondering where we got to."

 

            i am hardly gone, the pattern stated clearly. I suggest you remain here for a time. there are a number of incorrigibles loose outside.

 

            "What about Red?" Bill asked dubiously. "Should we run him off?"

 

            "He hasn't had his ice-cream yet," Retief pointed out. "Mr. Magnan seems to be taking his time."

 

            your associate has made a new friend, the Voice informed them, he'll be along presently.

 

            "Prolly another old maid," Bill muttered. "No offense, Mr. Retief—"

 

            "Oh, not so old," Magnan's voice spoke up cheerfully as he emerged from the darkness, leading Gaby by the hand.

 

            "Geeze!" Bill said reverently.

 

            "Geeze, indeed!" Retief seconded the notion, as he offered the slim beauty a chair, into which she sank gratefully.

 

            "I'm sorry about the ice cream, Red," Magnan told the glowering fellow. "We ate it."

 

            "Don't matter," Red grunted. "Ill get my own." He rose and started toward the rear of the cave.

 

            I wouldn't, the Voice spoke clearly, the dragon, you know.

 

            "Old Worm?" Red and Bill said together. "He's a pussycat."

 

            "But—!" Magnan started. Bill nodded. "Yeah, the Voice is the Worm. I don't get it."

 

            thank you, indeed, was the reply. but not all my manifestations are so benign.

 

            "Pay no attention, Retief," Magnan whispered. "That's nonsense. Actually there's a rather pleasant valley just beyond the first turn."

 

            be not deluded, came the stern warning. venture there at your peril—

 

            "Yeah, lissen good, fella," Red burst out. "Old Bim started to check that out back there wunst, and he come out shook plenty. And I been partway through there, too, one time. Nothin but ice—and if old Voice says there's a dragon, I'll believe him!"

 

            "Well," Bill put in jauntily, "I guess a little peril would liven things up. I'll take a look." With that he was off, disappearing after a few steps in the deep, clammy darkness.

 

            "Retief!" Magnan exclaimed as he watched the young fellow out of sight. "Why didn't you stop him?"

 

            "Bill's an adult," Retief pointed out. "He'll be all right. You said so yourself."

 

            "But the Voice said—well, you know very well what it said."

 

            While they were still discussing the matter, Bill sauntered back into view, whistling softly.

 

            "What happened?" Magnan demanded. "Was it blocked?"

 

            "Changed yer mind, hey, soldier-boy?" Bimbo sneered.

 

            "What do you mean?" Bill exclaimed, sounding surprised. "I just had the best three days of my life in there. I come out here to report, and I'm going right back. So long."

 

            He turned and would have returned whence he came, had Retief not caught his arm.

 

            "Just a minute, Bill," he urged. "Tell us more. You said 'three days'?"

 

            "About; maybe four. Funny place. Never got dark, underground there, but we slept twice. Figure about seventy-two hours. I'm ready to rack out now, only the boys are waiting for me."

 

            "What boys?" Retief insisted.

 

            "Chip and Bill and Buck and Horny—you know; my old boot platoon. Even Lieutenant Frong; the whole outfit."

 

            "Isn't that rather a coincidence?" Magnan wondered.

 

            "Sure," Bill agreed. "So what? Swell bunch of guys."

 

            i would urge you to move on, terries, the pattern formed, much as I have enjoyed your visit and your curious conceptions of the desirable.

 

            "Yes, oh, we were just going," Magnan supplied, bustling toward the glare of the narrow entryway.

 

            "Go ahead," Red urged. "Old Eddie's got a surprise fer you."

 

            Magnan checked in mid-stride. "I dislike surprises intensely," he stated. "As for this Eddie person, I am assured he's been treed on a rock-spine by the fearsome Worm itself."

 

            "Don't count on him staying up there," Red dismissed the objection contemptuously. "Old Worm's not so bad. You seen that yerself."

 

            make no ill-considered assumptions, the Voice urged.

 

            Magnan turned back. "Oh, by the way," he addressed the invisible presence. "Retief told me about the, ah, eaters! Where did they go? I saw nothing of them in the cavern yonder."

 

            doubtless the dears are in an esttvating phase prior to metamorphosis, was the reply.

 

            "Oh, yes, of course," Magnan mumbled. "Will they be coming this way again?"

 

            not for some time, the Voice told him. but enough of these trifles, it added, you have little time remaining before—the Voice broke off, as, at the same moment, a hoarse voice yelled from the entry.

 

            "Ahoy! there, mates! Gladda see ya! We got us a problem here!"

 

            "Hey, Red!" another voice yelled. "Hulk wants you! Better getcher ass out here where he can chew on it!"

 

            Small crawled in through the opening and paused to backhand a whiskery fellow who was attempting to follow.

 

            "They got the gal," Small remarked.

 

            "You mean Jacinthe?" Magnan yelped.

 

            "That's Nudine," Small corrected. "Gal with the towel. She clawed some, I'll tell ya. But they was jest too many of'em."

 

            "I hardly see what you expect me to do," Magnan objected. "Brawling with ruffians is not the strong suit of a diplomat, after all!"

 

            "Thought maybe Retief and Bill'd like to have a little fun with them suckers," Small explained, and whirled suddenly as Dirty Eddie's face appeared at the opening.

 

            "I'll take care o' this, Hulk," he called over his shoulder, and started in. Small seized his head and gave it a hearty hundred-eighty-degree rotation before thrusting the noisy fellow back outside. "C'mon," he remarked and went after him. Bill hurried over as if to follow, but paused and cast an inquiring glance at Retief.

 

            "Better wait," Retief advised. "I think this is more than just another rumble. We've got at least three separate gangs on the prowl simultaneously. How about it, Red?" He turned to the now docile thug. "What's up?" he asked him.

 

            "Why ast me?" Red yelped. "Better ast old Bimbo— all his idear, anyways. Besides, ain't nothing up!"

 

            There was another stir at the narrow entry, and Nudine scrambled through, draped in a plaid shirt six sizes too big. She jerked it into approximate alignment and commented. "Slobs! Tryna interfere with me in the performance o' my duties and all!"

 

            Magnan had dashed to her and was ushering her to his vacated chair, at the same time trying to interpose his thin body between the near-nude girl and Gaby's innocent gaze. Nudine sank down gratefully and Red at once served her a generous slice of tender beef. Small hovered over her solicitously.

 

            She looked around at the cave, chewing. "Howdy, Gabe," she greeted her table-mate. "You boys got a nice layout here," she went on. "I always did like them potted palms and fancy wrought-iron railings and like that. But old Worm's liable to come back any time."

 

            "It's already here," Magnan informed the girl. "Haven't you heard it speaking in your mind?"

 

            "Aw, poor old Pop," Jacinthe said sympathetically, and put down her fork to pat his hand. "J^ust you take it easy, and purty soon you'll be all right."

 

            Magnan withdrew his hand stiffly. "That remark, I take it," he stated coldly, "indicates that you have in fact not been aware of the Voice."

 

            "Not inside o' my head, Pop," she returned spiritedly, and looked around at the others for their reactions. "How long he been hearing these here like voices?" she asked Retief.

 

            "We've all been hearing it," he told her. "Seems it's the Worm, communicating telepathically."

 

            "Looky, Mr. Retief," she said seriously. "Don't you go cracking. I got to talk to you. There's mischief afoot here, you mark my words. Never seen so many dropouts and congenital psychopathic inferiors and slime-balls on the move all at once. They're cooking up something, I got a feeling! We hafta break it up now, afore they present us with one o' them fate I come please!"

 

            "I seem to recall, Miss," Magnan put in coldly, "that it was you yourself who first told me of the Worm's telepathic abilities."

 

            "Well, yeah, sure, that's something we always tell the new guys, and about how you better not never come over here near the gold domes and all—just kind of kidding, you know? Don't mean I'm spose to believe it my ownself."

 

            "Oddly, the story is quite correct," Magnan told her. "Though I must decry your irresponsibility in attempting to delude me. You also mentioned an Emergency Crew, I believe you called them. Was that—?"

 

            "Ain't seen the Crew lately," Jacinthe told him. "Should of been on the job, rounding up these here Spoilsports."

 

            "And one other thing," Magnan persisted. "What about your being the, ah, Enforcer, here?"

 

            "Got elected, fair and square," Jacinthe replied, unabashed.

 

            "And what, pray, are the duties of your office?" Magnan demanded.

 

            "Say," Red interrupted. "I guess I better tell youse, me bein stuck in here with youse: Boys are gonna block the entry, here, so we better—" He broke off as a handful of gravel clattered on the rock floor, followed by a baseball-sized stone, which Bill deftly caught and threw back, eliciting a yell from outside. Retief stepped past the lad as a boulder as big as a watermelon was thrust through the opening. He caught it, lifted it overhead, and hurled it back. More yells ensued, followed by a moment of stillness.

 

            "—Get a pit mortar in there!" a hoarse voice was audible.

 

            "Heavens, Retief!" Magnan cried. "We'd best withdraw at once. After all, you can't go on all day returning their serves!" He turned to Gaby, who was still seated at the table, finishing her repast.

 

            "Come, my dear," he urged. "At any moment these ruffians will be upon us."

 

            "No hurry," she replied calmly. "That's just the Spoilsports, trying to discover a new thrill."

 

            "I'm sure the old thrill of braining innocent bystanders will serve as well," Magnan snapped. "Come!" He caught her hand and tugged her to her feet.

 

            "Hold on, there, Mister," Red blurted. "We need every man to keep that hole open!" He suited action to words by grabbing up a rock and tossing it past Retief, only to see the ragged triangle of wan daylight further diminished by a new rock shoved into place from outside.

 

            "I wonder," Magnan said nervously to Bill, "what's become of the Voice—ah, the Worm, as the locals call it. One would expect it to assist in this moment of peril."

 

            —sorry, ben, the Voice said, faint and faraway, at the moment i'm beset by a horde of strange eaters-rogues, it appears, in company with a group of terrans like yourself.

 

            "What?" Magnan yelped. "Terries in league with locals?"

 

            "Smeer," Retief announced from the portal. "And Counselor Overbore, and a couple of others. That's Colonel Underknuckle, in the disguise, I think. I'm going out to see what they're up to." With that, Retief climbed out through the now tight crevice. Too late, Magnan leapt to attempt to restrain him.

 

            "He'll be killed!" he whimpered. "Those ruffians will assault him without mercy!"

 

            "I reckon Mr. Retief can take care of hisself," Bill commented in a matter-of-fact tone. Small went to the opening, dodged an incoming, and peered out.

 

            "All's well," he announced. "Retief's talking to some fat guy, and I don't see nothing of Tiny, nor Dirty Eddie, nor Bimbo's bunch neither. No pillars in sight."

 

            "Hold it," Red interrupted. "Look yonder—back of that line of brush—" He broke off as Retief abruptly took the plump man's arm and urged him toward the hedge-like growth to which Bill had referred. A whiskery fellow in archaic clothing stood nearby.

 

            "That's Chief Smeer hiding backa there," Bill explicated. "And looks like Retief s going to ennerdooce him to Sid Overbore."

 

            "I hardly think it appropriate," Magnan said glacially, "for a Marine guard of non-commissioned rank to refer to a Counselor of Embassy by his first name, and a nickname at that!"

 

            "This'll be good," Bill predicted. "Old Sid badmouths the pillars worser'n anybody. Now he's gonna hafta shake hands with one."

 

            "I venture to predict," Magnan sniffed, "that Counselor Overbore will conduct himself with the panache of the career diplomat, however such contact may repugn him personally."

 

            "Hiya, Sid," Smeer's wheezy voice could be heard greeting the reluctant Terran Deputy Chief of Mission familiarly. "The next arms shipment about ready?"

 

            Overbore drew himself up stiffly. "Chief Smeer," he began. "I can't imagine—"

 

            "Yeah, that's one o' yer problem areas, Sid," Smeer dismissed the objection. "How about it? Them rocket launchers coming in on schedule or what? I don't know how long I can keep my boys in hand—especially with this agent provacateur Retief stirring up the natives and all." As his large, faceted eye fell on Retief, he uttered a yelp. "Hey! that's him! I know the rascal good, seen his pitchers, and seen him the time he like massacreed me and my boys in the performance of our duty and all! Get him!"

 

            As Overbore turned, startled, to follow Smeer's excited gesture, he was thrust aside by two pillars who had erupted from the shrubbery at the chief s outburst.

 

            "Where's he at?" one demanded. The other knocked Colonel Underknuckle to the ground, dislodging his false whiskers and tricorn hat. The colonel clapped a hand over his eyes as if to render himself invisible. "I told you!" he yelled to Overbore. "It was a mistake for us to venture out here into the wilderness, unaccompanied! But no, you wouldn't listen! Said you had the confounded locals under your thumb!"

 

            "That will be quite enough, Fred!" Sid cut off the excited colonel coldly. "I'm sure the chief will be only too glad to assist you to your feet—" He broke off to peer sharply at Retief.

 

            "You're that undisciplined fellow Retief!" he accused. "What are you doing here, meddling in high-level GUTS-security matters? Well, I'm waiting! Eh, what's that?" He paused to cup his ear as if listening for distant birdcalls.

 

            "I'm to 'be silent and return whence'?" He frowned at Retief, then shook his head impatiently. "Couldn't be," he concluded. "Voices in my head—and such impertinence from a mere Second Secretary from the Econ Section—are equally impossible!" He turned his back to Retief and assisted Fred Underknuckle to his feet.

 

            "Don't bother with that silly hat," he advised the colonel. "Can't think from whom you imagine you should attempt to disguise your identity, in any case. But your cover is blown now, so throw away those whiskers at once!"

 

            "Don't want any nosy press personnel leaping to conclusions," Underknuckle grumped. "As if the Terran Military Attache would be associated with illegal schemes to overthrow the local authorities and—"

 

            silence foolish one! the ubiquitous Voice commanded. you'd best clear out, now! your venal schemes will avail you naught, I am not disturbed by your pathetic rockets and bullets.

 

            "I never said about no bullets," Fred protested. "And they're far from 'pathetic,' I assure you! At the last trials—" He stopped in mid-bleat and looked around wildly.

 

            "You, there," he addressed Retief, who was busy shoving one of the Sardonic bodyguard's elbows into the jaws of the other, who was reflexively gnawing the intruding apendage, while both yelled in protest.

 

            "Stop fooling with those chaps!" the confused Colonel ordered. "At a serious moment such as this, when the fates of worlds, to say nothing of my career—and Sid Overbore's, too, for that matter, are hanging in the balance—to indulge in horseplay is inexcusable! And how dare you order me to 'shut up and clear out' in that insidious manner?"

 

            "I didn't, Colonel," Retief replied cooly, "but it wouldn't be a bad idea." He turned and spoke quietly to the two pillars and dismissed them with a hearty shove apiece. They retired to the shelter of their chief, who slithered forward to confront Retief.

 

            "Hey, you can't alien-handle my valiant troops that way! You seen him, Sid! You gonna let this criminal brutalize we deserving locals like that?"

 

            "One moment, Chief," Overbore objected. "While Mr. Retief was, perhaps, a bit precipitate in his rejection of your minions' implied threat, he is still an accredited diplomatic member of the staff of the Terran AE and MP, hardly a mere criminal!"

 

            "Oh, yeah?" Smeer countered cheekily, and unrolled a rather soiled copy of the poster bearing the smeary photo of Retief and the legend 'Reward for information, etc. s/His Terran Excellency.'

 

            "You misunderstand," Overbore improvised, "His Ex was merely concerned for the safety of one of his subordinates who had unaccountably disappeared!"

 

            "I see what I see," Smeer dismissed the alibi. "I'm hunting this here enemy of society, and so's yer boss; he- must be a desperate bad hombre. So I'm taking him in!

 

            Listening at the cave mouth, Small poked Magnan with his elbow. "Well, we gonna resacue old Retief, or what?" he grunted, and started past. "C'mon."

 

            Magnan caught at the burly fellow's coattail. "Wait! I'm sure Retief can deal with the situation. Just he low and watch!"

 

            Small muttered but subsided. Outside, on the trampled patch of emerald grass, Smeer was reaching for Retief s arm. Suddenly, Retief jabbed quickly, and the caterpillar-like officer of Constabulary whipped up and over to slam the ground like ten feet of infuriated, scaled and fanged rug-beater hitting a carpet. Leaves flew, and both Sid Overbore and Colonel Underknuckle uttered sharp cries and dashed off into the underbrush, whence they were promptly retrieved by Smeer's two retainers, who had at last succeeded in ending their reflexive gnawing at each other's impenetrable hides.

 

            Smeer rose slowly and painfully. "Dirty pool, Retief," he complained. "Who told you about the Achilles heel of us noble Zanny-duers? The sensitive zata-patch is our most guarded state secret; in fact it's our only state secret, whatever that is."

 

            "A fellow named Big, or Small Henry told me," Retief informed the chief.

 

            "I heard o' that Terry," Smeer declared. "Runs some kind o' off-limits dope den or something, spose to be in some unknown part of the valley, never could find the place."

 

            "Your boys raided it just a couple of hours ago," Retief corrected.

 

            "Dang!" Smeer spat. "That's that pushy Lieutenant Blot, tryna make Captain! Tole him it's better to keep the criminal element all pinned down in one spot, steada spooking 'em so they run in ever direction."

 

            "You were right," Retief said. "Things will never be the same again. And you can forget your deal with Sid."

 

            "See here, young man," Overbore burst out as he bustled forward to confront Retief. "I'll brook no insolence from trouble-makers of your stripe!"

 

            "Suits me, Mr. Overbore," Retief replied quietly. "But it's only fair to let this poor sucker know the plan is blown."

 

            " 'Blown,' you say? After months—nay, years of the most delicate finessing by seasoned diplomats, you propose to butt in and destroy the basis of the Sardon-Terra accord?"

 

            "No, sir, I don't propose," Retief corrected. "It's already done."

 

            "Look here, Mr. Retief," Overbore said in a more placating tone. "I'll be candid with you. Chief Smeer and his gang are, of course, merely a mob of thugs. But better an alliance with them than no alliance at all on this hell-world of anarchy! And in addition—those stories of some horrid great monster terrorizing the hinterlands—I'm persuaded they're true!"

 

            how you do run on, sid, the silent Voice commented.

 

            where did you get such a silly idea?

 

            "I've told you not to speak impertinently to me, sir!" Overbore barked at Retief. " 'Silly idea,' indeed! I have that direct from George, the janitor, our very best Usually Reliable Source!

 

            impressive, the Voice said. I must speak to george. it seems that when we last talked, he was either more or less drunk than I estimated.

 

            "You'll do no such thing!" Overbore yelled, whirling to look behind him. "I absolutely forbid it!"

 

            calm down, the pattern shaped the command clearly. don't become agitated with retief; he hasn't said a word.

 

            "Well, I guess I know what I heard!" Sid snapped. "Still, as you suggest," he went on with an effort at suavity, "it ill-graces a senior diplomat to blow his cool in the presence of a subordinate. Forget that outburst, Retief. I'm not myself. Alone, here in this monster-infested wilderness, betrayed by ally and opponent alike—"

 

            "I'm here, Sid," Fred Underknuckle spoke up. "You're not quite alone, even if you don't count Retief."

 

            "You see the problem, Retief," Overbore appealed. "How Fred ever made field-grade, I shall never comprehend. And those false whiskers! Egad! I've fallen among maniacs!"

 

            "You don't hafta knock my get-up, Sid, which it prolly fooled Retief here for a good five seconds," Underknuckle protested. "At least if they got any spy-eyes focused on us, they got no proof Mrs. Underknuckle's boy Fred was anywhere around when the trafficking with the enemy was going on."

 

            "I shall personally testify at your court-martial," Overbore told the Colonel. " 'Traffic with the enemy,' indeed! Chief Smeer here is hardly the enemy, but a firm friend of Terra, Terrans in general, and the Terry Embassy in particular, especially the Counselor and his confidant the Military Attache!"

 

            "A minute ago you was railroading me," Fred grumped. "Now I'm yer confidant all of a sudden. Better decide which way to swing before that Worm you been talking about comes charging outa the bushes, breathing fire and all."

 

            "Where?" Overbore yipped, turning to look behind him with such vigor that he almost fell. He grabbed Retief s arm.

 

            "Get me out of here in one piece, fella, and I'll see you're rehabilitated!" he hissed. "Look! There's a cave over there, looks like. Let's try that."

 

            "After you, sir," Retief replied; Sid scrambled for the dubious shelter of the narrow aperture.

 

            "Uhh! Looks like rotten ice," the Counselor remarked, but plunged through without hesitation.

 

            welcome to my humble abode, Retief overheard.

 

            "What do you mean your 'abode,' Ben Magnan?" Sid yelled. "And who's this pack of undesirables? You've fallen among bad companions, Magnan!" he added, almost not yelling.

 

            would you care for a rest, a bath, or a snack? the Voice inquired concernedly, you seem quite frazzled, sid.

 

            "Everybody's doing it!" Overbore yelled. "Suddenly it's 'Sid this,' and 'Sid that!' What's become of protocol, to say nothing of common etiquette?"

 

            do you dislike your given name, sidney? the pattern wondered. I see that actually you're fond of it, honoring as it does your worthy great-uncle. why then the objection to its use?

 

            "Magnan, I must say I resent your unwonted familiarity!" Overbore snapped. "Uncle Sid was always a great favorite of mine, ten million guck or no!"

 

            "But sir," Magnan babbled. "That wasn't me being cheeky!"

 

            "I say it was cheeky, in the extreme!" Overbore dismissed the objection. "And whence did you learn that trick of talking without moving your lips?"

 

            "Sir, I haven't said a word!" Magnan wailed. "Except just now!"

 

            "You slipped that time, Ben," Overbore interrupted cooly. "I saw your lips move."

 

            "Of course my lips moved!" Magnan confirmed. "They always do when I speak."

 

            it was not ben magnan, but I who made reference to your hopes of inheritance, sidney, the Voice interpolated.

 

            "Who's this mug, anyways?" Small demanded belatedly, "calling a lady, and me, too, 'undesirables'?"

 

            "Stay out of this, you!" Sid turned to dismiss the query. Small responded by knocking the formerly dignified Deputy Chief of Mission against the wall, sending the luncheon table flying. Gaby rose with a yelp and Magnan went to her side protectively.

 

            "Mr. Henry," he addressed the big man, "I must protest your untoward violence. You not only assaulted my very own Counselor of Embassy, you very nearly upset Miss Gabrielle!"

 

            "Big deal," Jacinthe commented, attempting without success to do up the buttons of her borrowed shirt.

 

            "You, sergeant!" Overbore yelled from his supine position. "It's your duty to protect me from this ruffian!"

 

            "Maybe, Mr. Overbore," Bill conceded, "but you shunta called us all a bunch of undesirables, maybe. Now, Nudine here: Nudine, meet Mr. Overbore. She's head Enforcer in these parts, Sid, and a real nice gal to boot."

 

            "Why, thank you, Billy," she cooed, and looked up at him searchingly. "You know this bum?" she inquired, eyeing the fallen diplomat contemptuously.

 

            "He's a big shot in the Embassy," Bill hastened to explain. "Usually he's a cool article, but I guess he's a little shook right now." He extended a hand to assist the Great Man to his feet. "This here's Big Henry, manager o' the Cloud Cuckoo," he pointed out formally. "Big, meet Counselor Overbore. Over there," he went on, pointing, "that's Red, he's a prizner of war, but kinda reformed."

 

            i suggest, the Voice cut in silently, that you take affirmative action at once. observe the activity at the entryway.

 

            Bill and Magnan turned as one to see the last sliver of daylight abruptly cut off.

 

            "Hey!" Bill yelled and charged past them to hurl himself in vain against the barrier.

 

            "Must be a big one they done shoved in there, boys," Small announced, after pushing without effect. "Come on, Bill, and you too, Red. You better lend a hand, too, Mr. Magnan. If n we can't budge this mother, what we are, we're buried alive!" He set himself and heaved again.

 

            As Magnan and the Marine crowded in to help push, Red sauntered over casually. "I got no worries," he told them. "Them's my buddies yonder. They ain't going to bury their pal Reddy alive."

 

            "One can't make a souffle without breaking eggs, Red," Magnan reminded the insouciant fellow. "They can hardly bury us alive without inflicting the same fate on you, pal or no."

 

            "Well, I dunno," Red hedged. He went to the former opening, and yelled: "It's me, Eddie! Lemme outa here!" Then he fell to, gained a foothold and added his force to the effort, but uselessly. The rock held firm. Then Retief stepped up and pushed it aside.

 

            Behind them, shoe-leather scrapped on rock, and Magnan turned in time to see Overbore disappear down into the darkness at the back of the cave.

 

            Jacinthe was the first to react. "Hey, Mister!" she shouted after him even as he was engulfed in the darkness.

 

            that was perhaps unwise, the thought formed in the mind of each one present.

 

            "Yes, but—" Magnan offered and looked questioningly at Retief. "Hadn't we better ...?"

 

            "Right, sir," Retief confirmed promptly.

 

            "What's happening, Mr. Worm?" Magnan demanded aloud. "Is he—?"

 

            your terran minds are very complex, was the Only reply.

 

            "Very possibly," Magnan conceded, "but what has that to do with Counselor Overbore getting lost in that underground labyrinth?"

 

            once again you surprise me, the pattern told him.

 

            did you encounter a maze when you ventured there?

 

            "No, of course not," Magnan conceded readily. "Actually, it was a lovely, park-like valley, quite odd, actually, considering it was underground. But how could it have been? I saw a blue sky with fleecy white clouds, and afternoon sunlight. Somehow, I must have wandered out onto the surface. Curious, I'm not given to such lapses ..."

 

            yet you found it pleasant enough, did you not? the Voice insisted.

 

            "Most pleasant!" Magnan agreed. "Especially when I so unexpectedly met Gaby." He turned to peer about in the gloom. "Gaby, dear, where've you gotton to?" he queried uncertainly.

 

            At that moment, Sid Overbore's voice, at its most authoritive, rang sharply from the darkness. "Are you fellows—and ladies," he added with awkward gallantry, "still here? We're wasting time!" He emerged into view, breathing hard.

 

            "Ye gods!" he declaimed. "Three days in a retirement home for worn-out bureaucrats! The dinner-table conversation, Ben, was less than scintillating, I can assure you—and, you know, I had always had a vague sort of idea that's where I'd find peace at last, some day. Now I realize that worked-out diplomats don't retire, they're junked. Horrid. Do have Red bring me a dish of tea; I'm quite undone." He stumbled, and Red instantly took his arm and eased him into a Chippendale chair.

 

            "A retirement home, sir?" Magnan queried uncertainly.

 

            "Where'd you get that idea?" Overbore snapped.

 

            "Why—it's what you said," Magnan blurted. "I heard you quite plainly—so did—"

 

            "Then why the devil are you asking me if that's what I said, Magnan?" Sid demanded scornfully. "We've no time to waste. I overheard a couple of old fellows from Sector discussing certain long-range strategic plans for this infernal worm-infested world. We must act at once if we're to save our skins!"

 

            "Long-range strategic plans, sir?" Magnan quavered, and then caught himself. "Of course, long-range strategy is so important. What scheme has Sector devised to ensure the integrity of this rather strange, but actually quite charming planet?" he babbled on. "I've a theory, sir, about some of the apparently fantastic phenomenon we're witnessing here—it's all perfectly rational, once one has somewhat revised one's conception of 'rational'." He fell silent and waited expectantly.

 

            " 'Actually quite charming,' eh?" Overbore snarled. "Dammit, now you've got me doing it. So you want to preserve the so-called integrity of this dismal cold, wet, cave, is that it? Have I misconstrued you, Magnan?"

 

            "No, sir, I mean yessir! " Magnan blurted. "You haven't misconstrued me, I mean. Why, Retief and I have uncovered a large-scale conspiracy on the part of certain disaffected individuals, to destroy the Worm himself! We interrupted them in the very act of fire-bombing his lair, here."

 

            "Is that why the place reeks of number three?" Sid snorted. "Enough to destroy one's palate." He broke off to confer with Red over the wine list.

 

            "How perceptive, sir!" Magnan cried. "They poured the fuel in and ignited it. However, the occupant was outside, and suffered no harm, you'll be glad to know. Hardly even melted the ice—it's only a rather thin layer on the limestone, you know. Oddly, only a trickle of water from the melt flowed out the crevice yonder, which is how we found it—the fissure I mean—but most of it flowed into the cave, and gave rise to the broad river that flows through the caverns."

 

            "River? Caverns? You've snapped your cap at last, Ben, as the lads used to say when I was a boy—quite a vivid metaphor, that; one envisions;—well, never mind what one envisions, Ben! Stick to the subject! I've told you disaster is upon us!" He waved to Red to clear away the dishes, and unrolled a war map on the linen cloth. "This," he stated, stabbing a finger at the sketchy chart, "is our present location, or so Fred Underknuckle assures me. You see that all these pink arrows I've drawn in converge on this very site."

 

            "Whatever can it mean?" Magnan dithered. "We were aware, of course, that groups led by Bimbo, and Tiny, and a few others were all headed this way, some of them having already arrived, and of course we've just seen both Chief Smeer's troops and you yourself, sir, not that—"

 

            "Of course not, Ben!" Sid barked. "The colonel and I are here simply to look into this matter!"

 

            "Somehow I had the impression you had planned the rendezvous with Smeer," Magnan put in stubbornly.

 

            "To be sure," Sid purred. "The chief is cooperating in the apprehension of the evil-doers."

 

            "Certainly!" Magnan agreed. "That's plain as day, sir! I do hope you didn't think I entertained any idea of treachery?"

 

            "Of course not, Ben," Overbore dismissed the thought. "But now we really must get cracking."

 

            Magnan nodded emphatically and took two brisk strides before pausing to ask:

 

            "Crack what, sir? I haven't the foggiest."

 

            "Aw contraire, Ben," Sid corrected. "The foggiest is precisely what you do have."

 

            "Say, Mr. Magnan," Bill put in, "I needa ast you something. You know I said what a great time I had back in the cave, there—kinda spooky, seeing all the guys, even Smokey and Buck, which they was both kilt at Leadpipe. And you went in sir, and met Miss Gaby, in kind a big park-like; so I got the idea that every feller finds whatever he wanted back there—some kind of a jazreel trip, I guess—all but old Sid, here. He says he spent his time in some dump full of wore-out diplomats. Some place! I wonder ...?"

 

            i confess, the Voice spoke up with silent firmness. I permitted surface motivations to intervene; the enormity of what I found in mr. overbore's latent level was such that I guided him instead to the achievement of a goal he had long claimed as his highest aspiration, rather than permitting him to actualize the full elaboration of his deep latency yearnings.

 

            "I suppose that means something," Magnan commented. "But I confess I can't think what."

 

            "Musta been some pretty dirty schemes old Sid was hatching," Bill commented, "to get old Worm so shook."

 

            "I protest this entire proceeding!" Overbore blurted. "You, Ben Magnan, whom I personally never recommended for summary termination! Such gratitude! Now you accuse me of some vague crime, only contemplated, you concede, and poison the minds of everyone present against me." He sobbed abruptly. "I just want folks to like me," he stammered. "Wanted to be a big enough man they'd all admire me. Never did any of that stuff you were talking about. I guess nobody ever did really like me. Not even Mother, always carping at me because I got tired of her bossing me when I was over forty and a Foreign Service Officer of Class Three! I'm a failure, never even got one gang of thugs calling themselves a de facto government to accept a no-strings treaty and a billion guck grant! And that retirement home: found every blockhead and petty tyrant I ever met in thirty years of dedicated service! All of 'em higher ranking than me, too! I was lucky I got out alive!"

 

            i offer my sincere apologies, the pattern said in what seemed a humble tone. I yielded to the temptation to allow you to actualize your own declared ambition.

 

            "You goofed, whoever you are!" Overbore barked, turning to peer into shadowy corners. "Where the devil are you? And who are you? I can hear you, but I can't exactly seem to see you!" He turned to Magnan. "What's going on, here, Benny?" he entreated. "Sorry about accusing you just now, but I can hardly be blamed for thinking ..."

 

            "Sure not, sir," Magnan chirped. "And about that next ER: I do hope to see some more charitable marks in the Big Picture column."

 

            "I suppose I could bump you from 'Unbelievable' to 'Hopeless'," Sid conceded. "But right now, let's see you get me out of this mess you've lured me into."

 

            " 'Lured,' sir?" Magnan faltered. "I, sir? How in Heaven's name am I responsible for your forging into the hinterlands?"

 

            "Followed you, Ben," Sid said shortly. "Hadn't had a report from you since you departed Staff Meeting so precipitately."

 

            "But, sir, I was commanded to go at once, by the Ambassador himself! Right after Art went to see about running off that infamous WANTED poster. Surely you remember? And I've hardly had a moment to catch my breath, to say nothing of preparing Progress Reports in triplicate!"

 

            " 'Progress,' Ben?" Overbore queried icily. "A Retrogression Report would be more apropos."

 

            "I tried, sir!" Magnan cried. "I'm still trying, sir!"

 

            "They don't hand out any Better Bureaucrat prizes for nugatory efforts, Ben, more's the pity," the Counselor reminded his subordinate. "But I was talking about your apparent inclination to interpret my zeal on your behalf as some sort of discreditable act," he resumed redundantly. "What about that, Ben? Do I scent latent insubordination here, or what?"

 

            "Sir, I didn't breathe a word," Magnan gasped. "Your secrets are safe with me—"

 

            "Magnan, I have no secrets!" Overbore snapped. "And if I did, do you suppose that I'd have allowed an underling of your gabby proclivities to learn of them?" He turned his back on the hapless Magnan.

 

            "The Voice told us," Magnan whimpered.

 

            "Never mind, Mr. Magnan," Bill spoke up. "I seen him out there chumming with that pillar, too! I'll testify at yer trial!"

 

            "Aren't you rushing the pace of affairs a trifle, Sergeant?" Magnan dismissed the offer. "The Counselor and I were nattering of glowing ER's looming on my personal career horizon, not preferment of formal charges!"

 

            "Guess I got the wrong idea, Mr. Magnan," Bill explained. "Sometimes when you diplomatic fellers talk, it's hard to say if you're for or against."

 

            "That, Sergeant," Magnan said loftily, "is precisely the essence of enlightened diplomacy."

 

            "Where the devil's Fred?" Overbore barked abruptly. "Fred!" he called. "Where've you gotten to?"

 

            "Oh, don't you remember, sir?" Magnan offered. "You abandoned him to his fate, outside there, with Chief Smeer and those rascals of his."

 

            Overbore whipped out a pad and jotted swiftly. " 'Abandoned,' eh, Ben?" he purred. "I see you've decided to risk all on your feckless campaign to discredit me. Pity—and you with such bright career prospects, until this!"

 

            "Bill saw you, too," Magnan yelped.

 

            "Leave me out o' this one, Mr. Magnan," Bill interpolated. "I got a few career objectives, too."

 

            "Worm, if you are Worm," Retief interrupted the exchange, "let's go back to where you were confessing. I picked up a sort of subliminal hint that there's more to tell."

 

            you accuse me of lying to you? came the shocked response, after all, I never claimed—

 

            "You never denied, it, either," Magnan pointed out.

 

            fee fie, fo, fum, a silent Voice boomed in the crania of all present, I notice activity in the taboo precincts!

 

            "Heavens," Magnan gasped, covering his ears with his palms. "That doesn't sound like Worm! Who's there?" he quavered. "Do accept my, that is, our deep personal regrets if we've trespassed. Worm! Where are you now that we need you?"

 

            i'm just here, the familiar mild Voice replied at once.

 

            i, ah, fear there are one or two details that I neglected to mention. as to draken, the entity who spoke just now of taboo precincts, she's not the best-tempered lady on sardon, alas. and she's somehow gained the impression that you, or we constitute a threat to her plans. nonsense of course, but—

 

            you call what I say 'nonsense'? the Big Voice boomed again.

 

            "N-not me, Madam!" Magnan hastened to clarify. "Why, that's not nonsense at all!"

 

            you mean, petty creature, that you do in fact constitute a threat to my world view?

 

            "Good lord, no!" Magnan yelped. "Quite the contrary! It's just that as I understand it, the cave is full of eaters which would eat me alive, if they could!"

 

            not alive, ben, the cave-filling silence corrected curtly. as for you, junior ...

 

            gee, fellas, a weaker pattern formed hesitantly, in the wake of the Big Voice's thunderous declaration, I only tried, I mean, your intentions were so innocent, sort of, I only wanted to have a little fun, is all. i'm pretty tired of being bossed around by a—

 

            junior, the Big Voice rang out silently, this time you've gone too far. the affair goldblatt was not, it appears, sufficient warning of the dangers of feckless meddling with minds more highly developed that those of the freshman larvae.

 

            As the Voice paused in its furious rebuke, Retief touched Magnan's shoulder.

 

            "Time to go, sir," he suggested.

 

            "Doubtless!" Magnan concurred. "But in which direction? If we remove the blockage and venture outside, Chief Smeer and his bullies are waiting. And if we retreat into the cave, we're likely to end up in Sid Overbore's retirement farm!"

 

            "Hey!" Bill put in, "I don't mind seeing the old platoon one more time. Let's go!" He suited action to words and disappeared into the darkness where a row of the luminous flecks still glowed an eerie yellow-green.

 

            "The Worm, or rather, ah, Junior warned us," Small contributed. "What do you say, Nudie?"

 

            "Don't ast me, Small," she countered, "try asting Miss fancy Gabrielle, she come from there."

 

            "Gaby?" Magnan croaked, as he looked about him wildly, scanning the shadowy recesses, now lit only by a few vagrant rays penetrating the chinks among the boulders blocking the entry. "Gaby, dear, where've you gotten to?"

 

            "Prolly went back inside," Red offered. "Kinda nice in there, except for them guys grabbed me. Pool tables, nice bar, not too much light, neat little broad selling cigars—almost like old Dinny's Billiards back in my home slum. I'm going back in." He turned and strode off into the darkness.

 

            "He's insane," Magnan said dully. "It's a beautiful park-like meadow, acres of lawn, lovely old trees, and a lone hotdog and ice cream stand. And Gaby!" He too, hurried to the back of the cave—and hesitated.

 

            "What's back there, anyways?" Small queried. "Don't no two of you fellers say the same thing. I guess I got to see for myself." He strode out purposefully into the back of the cave and was gone.

 

            "I reckon I better stick with old Small," Nudine remarked. She yanked down on her shirttails, and departed.

 

            you hesitate, retief, the small Voice noted. do you fear, bold one, to experience your deepest desires?

 

            "Maybe so," Retief replied. "I don't know what my deepest desires really are. I suppose I'm hung up on some ideal of peace and order."

 

            ummm ... the pattern communicated a sense of thinking it over. I suppose you're right, it conceded hesitantly; perhaps, it went on judiciously, not unmixed with honor and glory. to say nothing of loyalty and justice.

 

            have done, junior! the Voice cut in. I shall deal with this matter.

 

            "I have nothing against any of those qualities," Retief agreed. "If you can find them."

 

            "Speaking of loyalty and justice," Magnan spoke up from the shadows. "Gaby's gone back in there—to heavens knows what hellish situation of another's creation."

 

            "I doubt it, sir," Retief reassured him. "She was all right before you came along."

 

            "Still, it's hardly a life for a vital young girl at the peak of her beauty," Magnan protested. "Standing there in the hotdog stand, all alone! It's ghastly! I must go to her at once!" This time he turned and plunged ahead. The sound of his footsteps on the wet cave floor ceased abruptly.

 

            Disregarding Overbore's protests, Retief went to the blocked entry opening. Through an interstice he saw Fred Underknuckle sitting disconsolately on a rounded boulder. Neither Smeer's troops nor the Terran roughnecks were in evidence. Retief thrust the boulders aside and climbed out. The colonel looked up, startled at the sound.

 

            "Great Heavens!" he blurted. "You're that fellow Whatsisname! What have you done with poor Sid?"

 

            "I was about to ask you, Colonel, what you've done with the Chief of Police and Tiny and Bimbo and the other boys."

 

            "Why, I dismissed them some moments ago," Underknuckle said, as one stating the obvious.

 

            "That was clever of you, colonel," Retief commented.

 

            you really mustn't remain in the open, Junior's voice spoke up, sounding somehow furtive. take cover before herself comes back, and—the thought remained incomplete.

 

            "Whatever for?" Fred yelped and jumped to his feet to stare about wildly. "What are you talking about, Retief?"

 

            " 'Whatsisname,' colonel," Retief reminded the officer.

 

            "What's who's name?" the agitated officer demanded wildly. "First you utter a cryptic warning, then you speak of mysterious strangers!"

 

            "I didn't utter a warning, sir," Retief told the plump colonel.

 

            "I distinctly heard you!" Fred countered. " 'Whatsisname,' you said!"

 

            "Yes, since you called me 'whatsisname,' then 'Retief,' I thought you'd prefer to be consistent," Retief explained.

 

            "Why do you speak in riddles, Retief?" Underknuckle demanded. "Now you accuse me of inconsistency! I insist you explain why I shouldn't remain in the open! And just who is 'Herself, may I inquire?"

 

            "Sure, go ahead," Retief agreed.

 

            "Go where?" Underknuckle demanded. "I've had quite enough of your obfuscation, sir! I demand an immediate explanation! Where would you have me go, eh?"

 

            "I meant 'go ahead and inquire'," Retief explained.

 

            "You imagine that I require your approval before I can investigate the matter?" Underknuckle demanded. "I'll remind you, sir, that as a full bird, and a military attache to this Mission, I rank with and after a First Secretary—and you're only a Third!"

 

            stop IT! Junior cut in. why do you speak nonsense, even as your doom approaches?

 

            "You presume too far!" Underknuckle declared vehemently. "I'm getting all this on tape," he went on, tapping his lapel, the gold wire insignia on which served as antenna to a sophisticated recorder, as Retief well knew.

 

            "I'll play back your insubordinate remarks," Fred announced. "You'll hear with your own ears what you said but a moment ago! Then you won't dare to deny it!" He fingered one of the buttons on the tunic he wore beneath his disguise.

 

            "—And you're only a Third!" his own voice declaimed in a triumphant tone. After a two-second silence, he barked: "... You presume too far!"

 

            The colonel looked puzzled, ran the tape forward and back at the high scanning rate: "—then you won't dare to deny it!"

 

            "Just what is it I'm denying, Colonel?" Retief asked quietly.

 

            "Why, what you said!" Fred barked. "You heard it all played back but now! That insolent reference to my cogent remarks as 'nonsense'." He ran the tape past again at 1:1 speed.

 

            "B-but, I heard you!" he wailed at last. "Somehow it got wiped! How did you do that, sir?" he demanded.

 

            "Show me the trick and I'll take it into account in my report to the Ambassador, with a copy to Sector."

 

            "I didn't do anything, Colonel," Retief told the frantic attache patiently. "To the tape," he amplified. "The recorder didn't pick up Junior's remark, because it was in the telepathic range, which your Mark XII can't handle."

 

            "I know what I heard!" Fred wailed. "I'm not losing my marbles, do you understand! I suppose driving me daffy is part of your plan, but I won't have it! An Underknuckle is not so easily disposed of!"

 

            do hurry! the silent Voice urged. take cover at once! look in the far corner of the den, retief, and you'll find my little retreat, an emergency place of refuge of which she knows nothing! and preparing it without once letting it slip was no easy task, I assure you!

 

            "Now you're talking to yourself," Underknuckle muttered. "Poor chap; gone right off his onion," he commented in a milder tone. "Talking aloud to yourself; even addressing yourself by name. Your hardships have dented your gourd, sir! I realize now that I was insufficiently restrained in my remarks just now. I assure you that had I known of your unfortunate condition, I'd have spoken more gently. By the way," he switched subjects with breathtaking verbal agility, "just why did you decoy me here in the first place?"

 

            go now! Junior commanded. Retief motioned Underknuckle ahead and they returned to the heaped rocks at the cave entry.

 

            Underknuckle stared into the shadowed crevice; his expression suggesting Incredulity (21-b) mingled with Righteous Wrath Restrained by a Will of Iron (422-m). Retief went past him into the cave and crossed to the darkest corner of the vestibule and scanned the ice-covered rock.

 

            There was a deep vertical fissure where the uptilted strata had separated. A breath of warm smoke-and-booze-scented air wafted from it. From deep within, he heard voices as from a great distance. The opening, he estimated, was barely wide enough to squeeze through— or get stuck in.

 

            "What are you doing in there, Retief?" Colonel Underknuckle's voice rasped from outside the cave.

 

            "Just looking things over, Colonel," Retief told him. "Come on in."

 

            "You're sure it's not dangerous?" Underknuckle inquired.

 

            the fellow's an arrant coward, Junior commented.

 

            "I am not, just cautious is all!" Fred corrected.

 

            Retief put an arm into the fissure; the stone was icy cold, and dry.

 

            Behind him, the colonel was chatting with Counselor Overbore.

 

            "Good job you finally decided to rejoin me, rather than skulking out there with those rude persons," Overbore remarked.

 

            "I? Skulking?" The colonel began a protest, but subsided, his meaty features registering discouragement at Egregious Intransigence of Trusted Colleagues (1209-D).

 

            "Fred!" Overbore barked. "This is no time for recrimination. It's time to twenty-three skidoo!"

 

            "What am I supposed to be looking for, Junior?" Retief asked aloud.

 

            "Why ask me?" Underknuckle yelped in a tone of Astonished Indignation, or Indignant Astonishment, (409-A or -B). He backed away from Overbore. "And who do you think you're calling 'Junior'?

 

            "I want you to realize, Retief," he said loudly, "that I always stuck up for you when the others were blaming you. Surely you'd not repay such loyalty with brutality!" He continued to search the shadows for the object of his remarks.

 

            i perceive that the organism known as windy is the victim of unusually deep-seated conflicts, Junior contributed.

 

            "How dare you, Retief!" Fred yelled. "Why, no one has called me 'Windy' since I was a private last class! How did you ever hear of the eke-name?"

 

            "Never did," Retief replied from his shadowy niche. "That's Junior you heard, sir. Or rather, didn't hear. He communicates directly, mind-to-mind."

 

            "Do you imagine," the colonel cut in, "that any such flimsy story will avert the Righteous Wrath of an insulted Underknuckle? And, just where is this 'Junior'? I see no one present but ourselves. Not even Magnan!"

 

            "He's hiding," Retief informed the excited Counselor.

 

            "Uh, so he's hiding!" Overbore mimicked with Heavy Sarcasm (112-N). He stared about him, now miming Honest Confusion (73-b). "I fail to see where even a junior could conceal himself in this bare cavern—unless he's fled away down the passage at the back and is even now joining old Miss Murkle and a gaggle of retired Econ Officers at breakfast! And the sobriquet was never justified; I've always been a chap of few words!"

 

            how they do run on, the Voice commented. it appears 'windy' is indeed an appropriate epithet for both of them. poor fellows! one feels an urge to help ... the pattern faded.

 

            no more meddling, junior! the Big Voice's pattern imposed itself over the small Voice's relatively feeble one.

 

            i understand the temptation to soothe these troubled psyches by resolving their central conflicts. but after sixty-odd years in these unfortunate moulds, to free them now would probably destroy them. have done, I say. I shall deal with these matters personally.

 

            "How do you do that?" Underknuckle yelped. "You speak—and loudly—without a movement of the lips or throat! That's clever, Retief, I'll grant you that—but the Corps Diplomatique is hardly the proper venue for such tricks! A carnival midway would be a fitter outlet for your skill!"

 

            Sid, who had been hovering nearby, tugged at Underknuckle's sleeve and led the now somewhat deflated colonel off to one side. "We've got to work together, Fred," Sid told the panicky colonel. "We came out here to lay the trouble-maker Retief by the heels—"

 

            "I thought we were here to demand the release of hostages, Sid," Fred objected mildly.

 

            "You've seen the posters yourself, Fred!" Sid reminded him. " 'Reward for Retief they say! 'Dead or alive.' Bringing him in will be a coup that will doubtless net you your first star!"

 

            "Sure, but ..." Fred faltered. "There's been some kind of foul-up. His Ex was just kidding about the 'dead or alive' part. Art Droneflesh took him seriously! Bad show, Sid. After all he is a Terry diplomat, same as us; maybe we oughta consider riding him, just until he can round up and dispose of those dacoit types that interfered with us just now."

 

            "Perish the thought, Fred!" Sid dismissed the proposal. "Those posters don't say 'Reward for Retief for nothing, after all! Chief Smeer will deal with the banditti!"

 

            "Sure, Sid, but after all, Art wrote the copy in error, like I said," Underknuckle persisted. "My idea is, first we get his help to get clear, then we run him in. How's it sound, Sid?"

 

            treacherous in the extreme, Junior put in.

 

            "Now you re doing it!" Fred and Sid cried together, then launched into a confused exchange in which the expressions 'trickster,' and 'how dare you!' recurred frequently. Then they paused for breath and looked around the cave as if seeing it for the first time.

 

            "He's gone!" Fred exclaimed, just as Sid said, "Where did he go?" and turned a demanding look on Fred.

 

            "I'm sure I wouldn't know," the latter said reprovingly.

 

            "You seek to imply that I would?" Sid countered. "That, Colonel, is unwarranted, inappropriate, insubordinate, and unendurable!"

 

            "Also 'imaginary'," Fred pointed out. "I never came out and said you were actually responsible for letting the miscreant slip through our fingers."

 

            "Maybe it's just as well," the Counselor suggested. "He is rather a physical type, and I had never planned to seize him without the assistance of Chief Smeer and his loyal cops."

 

            "A fet lot of good they turned out to be!" Fred complained. "They quailed at the first glimpse of that thug they called Tiny."

 

            "Well, after all," Overbore alibied, "Smeer was only up on a vagrancy charge when I found him in the lockup. He aspired to better things—which is why he leapt at my offer of a chieftainship. Otherwise he'd have sneered at my offer like all the other confounded locals."

 

            "Sure, I know all that stuff, Sid," Underknuckle said impatiently. Then he inquired in an oily tone, "Doesn't it strike you, Counselor, that it was just the teensiest bit devious of you to seek in the first instance to discredit an officer of the Terran Mission, albeit a junior one, in order to create a context in which raising, in effect, a private army of local malcontents would seem not unremarkable, all in pursuit of your own personal objectives—"

 

            "And your star, remember!" Sid cut in. "Look, Freddy, we've almost got it made: all we need to do is order this mere Third Secretary, this obscure Vice-Consul, to surrender himself, and we'll take him back to the capital in figurative chains, and the prize is ours!"

 

            "Suppose he don't want to?" Fred countered.

 

            i think you two have polluted the AIR of the sacred cave long enough, Junior announced. Sid and Fred leapt as if prodded by hot pins and stared wildly about.

 

            "Disembodied voices!" Overbore breathed. "Spooks!" Fred corrected.

 

            "Possibly the disembodied voices of spooks, as you suggest," Overbore conceded. "In any event, the suggestion inherent in the insulting remark is not without merit. Let's get out of here," he added in translation of his own convoluted syntax.

 

            "And leave Retief here, to the mercy of the spooks?" Fred objected. "Good idea," he went on. "Then we won't hafta try to arrest him. Let's go!" the two senior diplomats dashed for the narrow exit. After a brief struggle they burst through and found Chief Smeer awaiting them.

 

            "Gladda see you boys," the chief greeted them. "Some o' my cops hadda go back to town on urgent business—"

 

            "What urgent business, may one inquire?" Overbore demanded.

 

            "Sure," Smeer asserted. "Go ahead and ast me. Keeping alive," he added. "Can't blame 'em fer that."

 

            "And what of the ruffians you were ordered to place under arrest?" Overbore persisted.

 

            "Oh, you mean that rogue Terry, Retief," Smeer deduced. "Well, he went inna cave with you, Fred. I figger you got him bottled up good."

 

2

 

            Inside the cave, Retief, having squeezed halfway into the crevice heard a woman's scream, then saw movement further ahead along the narrow niche.

 

            "Retief!!" Magnan's voice called. His face appeared, pale and strained, only a few feet ahead. "I'm stuck!" he groaned. "Can't go any further and can't go back. Thank heaven you're here! I can hardly breathe. Extricate me at once!" His arms groped toward Retief's extended hand. "I ... can't ..." He whimpered. "What a dreadful way to die! Trapped in the bowels of an alien world inhabited by ravening monsters and sarcastic voices! Do hurry! Gaby needs me! They've got her!"

 

            "How'd you get in there?" Retief asked. "And why?" His effort to reach Magnan's hand fell short by a few inches.

 

            "I thought they'd taken her this way," Magnan explained. "Here among these tumbled rocks where the river emerges from the mountainside, I saw a dim light coming from this cleft. So I tried to come through—and here I am. Make haste, Retief! There's no telling what atrocities those terrible creatures will inflict on the poor child!"

 

            "What terrible creatures are those?" Retief wanted to know.

 

            "I think they're what Junior called eaters," Magnan whimpered. "You don't suppose they're—"

 

            "Not a chance, sir," Retief assured his immediate supervisor. "They eat nothing but glow-worms, Voice told me. And by now they're estivating."

 

            "But—I thought—never mind," Magnan stammered. "Good lord! She was never in danger at all, and my effort was all for naught!"

 

            "Not quite, handsome," Gaby's voice spoke up, near at hand. "It's a wonderful thing for a girl to know her lover would put his life on the line for her. Hurry up, please! Let's get out of here!"

 

            "Gaby!" Magnan called awkwardly. "Are you all right?"

 

            "For now," she replied. "But you better get a move on! They're getting close."

 

            "Who, the eaters?" Magnan yelped. "They're harmless, my love!"

 

            "Naw, some ugly mugs I never seen before, make old Dirty Eddie look like Sir Galahad!"

 

            "Exhale, Mr. Magnan," Retief suggested, as he did the same. "And try to relax; I'm going to try something." With that, he wriggled back out of the crevice, not without difficulty, over Magnan's spirited, though muffled protests.

 

            "I gained perhaps an inch when I breathed out!" he called excitedly. "But that's no reason to abandon me now!"

 

            "I notice that the bottom of this fissure is ice-free," Retief told the older man. "It's not water-tight, it seems. But if I pack it with cloth ..." He paused to rip an inch-wide strip from the ruffles adorning the cuff of his early mid-morning semi-formal shirt dress, middle three grades, for the use of, and pressed it down into the narrowing lower edge of the crack in the cold rock; then he scooped a palmful of water from one of the many puddles on the floor, and dribbled it on the fabric caulking. At first, it soaked out of sight in an instant; then the wet cloth glazed over and became reflective, as a film of water built up on it, between the converging walls of stone. In the bitter cold, the thin film crystalized almost at once, and in so doing expanded minutely. There was a resounding CRACKl, and the fissure widened by perhaps one sixty-fourth of an inch, Retief estimated. He dumped in more frigid water and called encouragingly to Magnan. "Give it about five minutes, and I think you'll feel the difference."

 

            "I do!" Magnan blurted. "I'm sure I felt a relaxation of the pressure! I'm going to try ..."

 

            "You'd better go back," Retief suggested. "I don't think there's room to squeeze through."

 

            "Very well," Magnan agreed doubtfully. "But how am I to do so? I can't find any purchase."

 

            "Relax, Mr. Magnan," Retief suggested. "I'll go around and pull you back out."

 

            "Do you think you can find the right crevice in which to look for me?" Magnan groaned. "That was an incredible jumble of boulders. I was a fool to have tried ..."

 

            "It was for Gaby, remember?" Retief encouraged his trapped friend. "Relax and breathe," he added. "I won't waste any time. Ta." He backed out, noted Counselor Overbore and the colonel still wrangling near the exit, and without disturbing their concentration on their debate, went along the wall to the opening of the deeper cave, took two steps and encountered a solid wall of stone. He explored for a few yards to the right, found it to be a seamless continuation of the side wall, curving in to form a cul de sac.

 

            "How about it, Worm?" he said aloud.

 

            confound you, junior! The Big pattern communicated fury, now you've created a class one paradox with your careless meddling! stand fast, alien being, it added more calmly. I shall see what's to be done.

 

            "You there, Retief," Underknuckle's wheezy voice spoke up abruptly behind him. "Who, or whom, I suppose, are you talking to? Or to whom are you talking?"

 

            "Never mind that, Fred," Overbore's sarcastic voice cut in. "I'm not grading on syntax today. But as for you, Retief, what's your excuse?"

 

            "For existing, you mean, Mr. Overbore?" Retief inquired innocently.

 

            "For participating in this plot against the peace and dignity of the CDT!" was the irate reply. "And what was all that about paradoxes—? You said you'd see what was to be done. You! A mere FSO-7: and with a career minister present! It is precisely I who shall determine the correct course of action!"

 

            "Swell, Sid," Fred commented eagerly. "OK," he went on, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do it, before the monster comes back."

 

            "Do what?" Overbore demanded. "What monster? This is no time, Fred, for precipitate action!"

 

            "You're asking me, 'Do what'?" Fred demanded. "You just said you had a plan all ready to go, so let's do it! And you know darn well what monster: the one all the locals were saying about, and Tiny, too, not to say nothing about Chief Smeer, your own protégé!"

 

            "Smeer was a tool to be used and cast aside," Overbore explained to the colonel. "Now, as for you, Retief, it was you who volunteered to 'see what's to be done,' your very words."

 

            "Not quite, Mr. Overbore," Retief contradicted the Counselor politely. "That was Voice. He's the big cheese around here."

 

            "You deny making the declaration which both Colonel Underknuckle and myself clearly heard?" Sid turned to the Attache. "Right, Fred?" he purred.

 

            "Sure, Sid, uh, Counselor Overbore, I mean. No disrespect intended. Just palship, you know, Sid?"

 

            "The informality will be overlooked on this occasion, Fred," Sid conceded in a tone of Gracious Condescension (104-B).

 

            "You don't need to go pulling no 104 on me, Sid," Fred carped. "They used to call you 'Windy,' eh? I coulda called you that."

 

            "But you didn't, Fred, and you won't," Overbore reminded the colonel coldly. "For very good reasons well known to us both; you're in this far too deeply to attempt to weasel out now; if I fall, you fall first. Now buck up, man, and take that effective action to extricate us from this awkward contretemps, just as you boasted!"

 

            "Whom, I, Sid?" Underknuckle asked as if Amazed at an Unreasonable Attack From an Unexpected Quarter (1127-M).

 

            "One should never essay subtleties beyond one's capability, Fred," Sid told him coldly. "Your attempted 1127—yes, I recognize your intention—was pitiful at best, and by a less experienced professional than myself would have been interpreted as a 707, about a Q, I'd say."

 

            "Anyways," Fred counterattacked gamely, "it was you that said about the paradox! A Class Two, you said, as if you were an old hand at classifying paradoxes, or paradoces, if you care about correct Latin inflection."

 

            "Which I emphatically do not!" Overbore riposted vigorously. "Your attempt to attribute to me your own immoderate remarks is one which I shall not fail to include in my post-op debriefing Report!"

 

            "If you ever get to fake up your lousy PODR," Fred challenged. "First, we gotta get outa here alive, right? And I never said a word about paradoces!"

 

            Sid turned to Retief, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

 

            "What about it, Mr. Retief?" Sid barked. "Are you or are you not a witness to the colonel's remarks?"

 

            "I'm afraid you're both mistaken," Retief told the dumbfounded senior officials. "Neither of you said that, and neither did I. That was something known as Worm."

 

            "The dread monster of the Taboo Cave!" Underknuckle groaned at the same moment that the Counselor sneered.

 

            "Oh, back to that nonsense, eh? Tell me, sir, just where is this mysterious Worm? I challenge you to show him to me!"

 

            you'll regret that piece of insolence! the silent Voice boomed. get back against the walls there, all of you, lest I squash you by inadvertance!