Chapter Three
1
Accompanied by his escort, Retief arrived at the Ten Planet check-in station at 2:59, to be greeted wanly by a string-thin Prutian who glanced a Retief's ticket, supplied by the Transport Officer at Sector some days earlier, and said off-handedly:
"Must be some foul-up, Terry. You've got no reservation. Wouldn't have mattered if you had, actually. Flight 79 lifted ten minutes ago." The clerk patted back a yawn and looked past Retief, who commented mildly, "Jumped the gun, didn't it?"
"You don't have to get nasty!" the counterman protested, his pinched face pale with rage. "How else do you think T-P can maintain its rep for punctual arrivals? Besides, you were actually booked on the Irresponsible, which was lost in space a week ago. Probably shot up by the Ree. They pretend they're palsy-walsy, but I don't trust the dastards," the travel agent elaborated.
"I put you on stand-by for 79, which you missed. Hardly my fault."
"Anything else going that way?" Retief asked.
"Certainly not!" was the reply. "No one with good sense would want to go out to any of those frontier hell-holes with all these Ree infiltrating, anyway."
"Right," Retief said firmly. As he turned away, an elderly Yill bystander with the appearance of a soup-kitchen regular put out a scrawny gray hand and said in a ratchety voice:
"Hold hard, Terry. Happens my vessel is bound for Tip space. Might be able to help you out, if you've got no objection to riding with a cargo of glimp eggs which I admit I held a bit too long, waiting for the market to go up."
"Thanks, Captain," Retief replied. "When are we lifting?"
"Well," the old spacedog replied, "See, I've got this bad leg, so if you want to take the load in for me, I'll see you get ten percent, plus of course it's a free ride. I'll need about a hundred Guck for port fees."
Retief handed over a hundred-Guck note and accompanied his new acquaintance, Captain M'hu hu by name, to the transport bar, where the old fellow downed a dozen stiff shots of Hellrose before Retief had finished his Bacchus black.
" Feller'd hafta be crazy to go out there in these here parlous times," the captain commented. His bleary gaze fell on Retief. "Figger to get me drunk and con me into letting you ride along without no visa, eh, Terry? Well, you picked the wrong pigeon; 'Cap M'hu hu can hold his booze' is a saying that's knowed from Azoll to Zoob: So you can just dust off, Terry, after you buy me one more."
Retief took the old fellow by his bony elbow, led him out along a service passage to the glass wall fronting the wind-swept ramp where space-scarred hulls in fantastic variety stood festooned with service cables. Captain M'hu hu pointed out one of the shabbiest, parked well down the line, as his own command, Cockroach III.
"Fine a little embargo-buster as ever run a load of Feeb seed into Groac, and the five-eyed little beggars are allergic to it," he stated proudly.
Retief requested and received, not without protest, the undocking codes and master electro-key, the captain grumpily accepting a second hundred-Guck note in return.
"Place she's programmed for they call Goblin-rock; you hear a lotta superstitions about the place. Actually, it's jest about deserted; watch out for some big gray cactus things, is all. You'll get there OK, maybe," M'hu hu guessed, "but getting back out's somethin else. So long, sucker."
Retief bade M'hu hu farewell, but as he started through the door leading outside, the old fellow set up an outcry like a gut-shot dire-beast, yelling that he hadn't been paid. Retief up-ended the noisy old grifter in a handy public convenience, and boarded the ancient vessel without further complications. After a few minutes devoted to scanning the operating manual, he used the electrokey, and lifted off.
2
The rattles, buzzes, clatters, knocks, thumps and wails of the old tub, Retief soon noticed, were more noisy than threatening. The thousandtonner lifted smoothly; the autopilot, already programmed, maneuvered the craft through the intricate departure pattern and took up course, Retief noted, in the general direction of Gold-blatt's remote world.
Days passed without incident, other than a half-hearted pass by a Ree torpedo boat whose peremptory hail Retief ignored. A few hours later, a heavy gunboat bearing the Ree blazon closed course with the tramp freighter and hailed:
"All right, M'hu hu, don't get any big ideas. What's the idea trying to cut the boys on the PT out of the action?"
"The fun's over, fellows," Retief replied. "Captain M'hu hu has retired, and the run has been taken over by the Terran Space Arm. Better clear space to port, because this is where I try out my new evaporator beams. I wouldn't want to vaporize you by accident."
The gunboat, which had fallen in alongside at ten miles, edged away and fell slightly astern. Meanwhile, red alarm lights had flashed on all across the freighter's board. On the forward screen, a meteorite-pocked body of irregular shape had come into view dead ahead.
"Now, Terry," the Ree vessel resumed transmission, "I don't know what you've got in mind, but I guess you know enough to sheer off and give Goblinrock a wide berth."
The gunboat fired a shot in parting, and fell farther astern. At the same time, the freighter's innards began to groan, and the big DISASTER IMMINENT light glared angrily. Retief made adjustments to the autopilot to steer directly for the rock ahead.
The gunboat had backed off to fifty miles without further comment or gunfire. Retief's forward screens showed the pinkish orb of the barren moon at extreme range but coming up fast. A few moments later, the first tentative thump!s of atmosphere contact shook the elderly vessel, setting off the master alarm systems which shrilled and bung!ed and flashed red letters reading ALL SYSTEMS IN FAILURE MODE.
Retief rode the disintegrating hulk down to ten thousand feet before ejecting. The escape pod's air system was inoperative, he noted, but a quick resetting of valves expelled the foul air and allowed the fresh, thin air of Goblinrock to fill the cramped space only moments before the pod's landing jacks made violent contact with the satellite's surface.
The pod wobbled, but stabilized at last. Retief forced the hatch open and emerged into breathlessly hot, but breathable air. He found himself in a hard-baked desert of dun and ochre mud reticulated by heat-cracks.
A barely visible trail of vapor marked the path his stricken craft had followed in its meteoric descent. The point of contact was clearly indicated by a column of denser smoke.
Nearby was a patch of spiny growths resembling pink Christmas trees. Retief stood in the sparse shade of the 'trees' and scanned the hazy pink horizon, dead flat except for an occasional upthrust spine of unweathered rock.
Retief examined the fleshy leaves of the nearest tree, noting that its glossy, leather-like surface was distinctly cool to the touch. As he fingered the leaf, it seemed to quiver, then to twitch away from his touch. He tried another, with the same result. Then he noticed that the other plants appeared to be more closely clustered about him than they had been a moment before. He stepped back, jostling a small tree close behind him. As he side-stepped it, he was quite sure that it somehow leaned into his path, pressing against him more insistently as he thrust harder against it.
"Let's be reasonable, Pushy," Retief said aloud. "You stand still and I'll get out of your way."
At his next step, the tree to the right seemed to shift position to close off the gap through which he had been about to step clear of the thicket. Retief set his feet, grasped the nearest branch; which felt like a fleshy overlay on a hard core, bent it back until a thin wail sounded from some indefinable point amid the foliage. Holding the branch aside, he advanced a step, and paused again to push aside two more stout limbs which he had not previously noticed, barring his way.
After a moment's consideration, Retief turned and tried another direction, found it as densely obstructed, as was every side. Now he felt a touch at his shoulder, and a moment later the questing shoot which had brushed him whipped around his neck, constricting.
"Naughty," Retief said mildly as he forced his thumb under the pencil-thick tendril and pried it away, unwound it, and tied it in a square-knot. At once, the flexible growth went limp. Meanwhile, another strand had encircled his upper arm and another his ankle, to be dealt with in the same way. Retief paused; the heat was appalling.
"No fair, O Motile One," a telepathically communicated voice said, without audible sound.
"You introduce intolerable complexities into what should have been a simple and much-needed ingestional process."
"That's the way we motile ones are," Retief responded. He took a knife from the survival kit attached to his belt and tested the edge with his thumb. "I suggest you boys keep your branches to yourselves," he added, "so that it won't be necessary for me to demonstrate the principle of the cutting edge."
"You threaten the Surviving One?" the mind-voice queried coldly. "Perhaps it will be as well if we proceed at once to pre-digestion. Very well, fellows, melt it down."
At once a fine spray of cool moisture enveloped the Terran. The fluid appeared to be expelled in minute droplets from pores covering the surface of leaves and stems alike. A drop trickled down Retief's upper lip, as the voice spoke again:
"You, O formerly Motile One, are now enveloped in a cloud of the most corrosive substance in nature. Prepare to be dissolved."
"That wouldn't be H20, I suppose," Retief hazarded as his tongue touched the droplet on his lip.
"Precisely. Our methods of preparing nourishment are unparalleled. We ourselves are of course impervious to this caustic compound."
"I dare you to step up the volume," Retief said.
The swiftly evaporating mist had lowered the temperature to a bearable level, and his heat-parched skin was eagerly absorbing the water, which was now trickling down in an increased volume.
"You presume, O Motile One, to attempt to resist the corrosive action of the universe's most potent solvent?"
"Sure," Retief said. "I don't have time to be dissolved right now. If you boys are hungry, I'm in a position to offer you a full cargo of gourmet delights, if it isn't splashed all over the landscape, that is; or even if it is. I don't suppose you'd object to having to collect it."
"It is well known to us, impertinent one, that all edible matter on this our world has long since been consumed. We ourselves discovered and ingested the last patch of nourishing lichen some centuries agone."
"Good news;" Retief told the silent voice. "It's lunchtime. The only problem is that we're here, and lunch is a couple of miles away. By the way, you can call me Retief."
"Yes," Pushy agreed. "We are but now examining the phenomenon, Retief, and the aroma of roasting protein is indeed most appetizing; we seem to recall having sampled something similar, and arranging for a resupply with the obliging mariner M'hu hu. We are of course not ungrateful to you, Retief, for descending from emptiness to bring this gift. You may therefore crave a boon of us."
"Well, boonwise," Retief answered. "Let's start by giving up the idea of eating me. Then we can work on the details."
"When you approached within our reflexive radius," Pushy replied, registering surprise, "we assumed you were volunteering your person as an aperetif. Such an act of self-immolation evoked our deepest gratitude. Pity you spoiled it by failing to dissolve."
"Thoughtless of me," Retief agreed. "Now, if you'll stop trying to fence me off, I'll check the pod and see if its ground maneuvering gear is operable."
At once there was a stir, and a clear avenue appeared through the thick-clustered growths, which now surrounded Retief in depth in all directions. He walked out along the open lane into the blinding sunlight, much refreshed by his soaking, the continuing evaporation of which served admirably to absorb the circumambient heat which otherwise would have hard-boiled a man in three minutes.
He went back to the pod, which was perched awkwardly but intact on its sprung jacks. He climbed in, and was pleased to find that the SURFACE GEAR—DE-PLOY lever elicited a laborious but effective response, bringing the pod to a level attitude. A light indicated TRACKS UNDER LOAD. The power-pack was at half charge; on command, the capsule moved off jerkily in the correct direction. The steering was stiff, but accurate, and after half an hour of bumpy progress, Retief arrived at the smouldering heap of glue rubbish that had been Cockroach III.
He climbed out into the smoky stink of incinerated glimp eggs to find the stand of pink organisms clustered close beside him.
"I see you're pretty motile yourself, Pushy," Retief commented mentally.
"We decline to expend our waning energies in feckless perambulations," the silent voice said. "We long ago made the decision to adopt the plant kingdom's strategy of immobility, except, of course, in the event of emergency. The present occasion so qualifies. It occurs to us." Pushy went on, "that your mode of arrival, or that of your cargo carrier, could be improved upon, maintenance-of-equipment-wise."
"I was having a little emergency of my own," Retief explained. "She started coming apart when I hit atmosphere—thin as it was."
"Perhaps, after we have gleaned the nourishment from the debris, you would like us to reassemble the craft, the design of which, though primitive, seems serviceable enough."
"Go right ahead, fellows," Retief agreed. "But be careful with the power core; it could be leaky."
"We had noted a high flux-density of rather short wavelength emanating from the larger fragment—there," Pushy replied, extending a finger-like tendril to point to what remained of the drive unit of Cockroach III.
"I see you fellows are ahead of me," Retief acknowledged. "By the way, is it 'fellows,' or just 'fellow'? Are you a crowd, or just one individual?"
"We are many-in-one," Pushy replied. "Of the teeming species that formerly peopled this once-fair world I alone remain. We determined early in our evolution that the linkage of the many relatively feeble organisms to comprise one potent being, thus ending the inter-being and interspecies rivalry, would enhance our ability to survive under increasingly hostile conditions, as our atmosphere and hydrosphere dissipated into space, and our surface minerals were removed by the Ree banditti."
"That sounds like a neat trick," Retief conceded. "But how do you manage without food and water?"
"From time to time we receive a gift of organic matter from He Who is Powerful, recently usually in the form of these same objectionable creatures who call themselves 'Ree,' and who come here—or formerly did—to replenish their stores of various minerals. When we approached them, in innocent curiosity, they turned weapons upon us, from the destructive effects of which we are only now recovering. Candidly, when you came to rest and emerged from your chrysalis, we assumed at first that you, too, were of the odious Ree, and would attempt to help yourself to the substance of this our world. When we saw that you offered us no harm, we realized our error, and would have incorporated your ego-gestalt into our own. But you dissuaded us, by your curious immunity to dissolution in water, which dissolves all substances."
"You seem to have done an excellent job of surviving," Retief said.
By now, the pink conoids had encircled the smoking wreck and were busily extending pseudo-podia to gather in the well-cooked masses of glimp egg. They were well along with the task when, abruptly, Pushy spoke again.
"Retief, we note that a vessel of the insidious Ree is approaching, on a vector which will bring it to rest at this precise point in fourteen minutes and three seconds from ... now."
"Thanks for the warning," Retief replied. "Do you have any ideas?"
"We shall cope with the intruder in our usual fashion," Pushy replied coolly. "We suggest that you re-enter your husk and withdraw to ten miles until we have restored tranquility."
"I'll pull back a little way and keep an eye on the action," Retief said. "Just in case this fellow has a new trick or two up his sleeve. Good luck."
With that Retief climbed back into the pod, and trundled it off over the heat-baked plain to a point of vantage atop a rocky ridge. Adjusting his DV scanner for maximum gain, he watched as the tree-like pink organism disposed itself in a loose ring around the crash site.
Moments later, the gunboat which had earlier fired on Cockroach III executed a neat landing beside the blackened wreckage. At once, in accordance with SOP, it fired the usual antipersonnel charges; the shrapnel whoof!ed into the fleshy pink growths, sending gouts of Pushy's substance spattering.
The ring closed in slightly but showed no other response. A hatch near the prow of the blunt Ree fleetboat opened, and half a dozen squat Ree made their way to ground, well ensconced in protective suits. They approached the wreckage cautiously.
Retief tuned the pod's pickup to the Ree wavelength; the filters clarified the creaky reception until he overheard:
"—no doubt the goblins got him, the damned fool."
"Escape pod's gone, Sergeant. Maybe ..."
"Never mind the maybes. Just check until you find the remains. And look out for tall yellow cactuses."
The Ree troopers climbed over the cooling wreckage, poking and rummaging.
"Not here, Sergeant," someone said. "Probably burnt up, if the goblins din't get him, like you said."
"All I said was 'probably' soldier!" the noncommissioned officer in charge corrected. "Keep looking."
After half an hour of this fruitless endeavor, the Ree returned to the scant shade under the stern of their vessel, formed up in a column of twos, unlimbered heat weapons, and deployed within the gradually closing ring of pink trees.
Retief at once maneuvered the pod in the shelter of the ridge to the point closest to the wreck, then emerged at full speed and drove directly toward the Ree gunboat, parked only a few yards beyond the remains of Cockroach III.
The Ree troops broke formation and sprinted for their boat, all but two who Retief saw were ensnared by outreaching tendrils of Pushy-stuff.
He came careening in a cloud of dust, skidded between wreck and boat, sending the last of the Ree who had been waiting to board flying for shelter behind whatever rocks they could find. Only then did a few random shots ricochet harmlessly from the pod's hull.
"We express our thanks, Retief," Pushy's insubstantial voice came clearly to Retief. "In another moment, the noxious invaders might have done us a mischief. Though we find the substance of those few we harvested most refreshing."
It seemed to Retief that the voice strengthened even as it spoke. He halted and brought the pod around in a curve to rest beside the clustered pink growth, from which cables now extended to the gunboat, probing around its closed hatches.
"Alas," the mind-voice came again. "We find this material proof against our solvents and our strength alike."
"Wait a minute," Retief suggested. "Maybe I can open that sardine can for you."
As he stepped down from the pod, he saw the boat's aft battery rotate jerkily and come to rest aimed dead at the pod. He hurried over to the main entry hatch, which, as he had expected, had been retrofitted with an economy-model Bogan electrolock. A quick and simple adjustment to the key to Cockroach III adapted it to fit—and the hatch cycled open.
At once, a wrist-thick pink rootlet jostled him and started inside the airlock. Retief caught it, wrenched the tough member to one side, where it felt its way blindly along the undercurve of the Ree hull.
"I'd almost forgotten why I call you 'Pushy,' Pushy," Retief told the organism, which was now, he observed, in the process of modifying its external form to that of a cluster of pale blue puff-balls, their feathery spines waving gently, like underwater fronds.
The member which had attempted to enter the airlock was now returning as a wiry, dark-blue filament. Retief caught it and tied it to a stanchion in a loose slip-knot.
"That substance change is a neat trick, Pushy," Retief commented. "No wonder the Ree started believing in goblins."
"Why do you seek to spoil our sport, Retief?" the voice said sulkily, "Once you rendered valuable assistance, yet now you seek to obstruct our just vengeance."
"You've had a good meal," Retief pointed out.
"You don't need this snack. Let's negotiate, instead."
"To what end?" Pushy demanded. "Release my probe at once, and there'll be an end to these scoundrels!"
"There'll just be more scoundrels coming along to even the score," Retief pointed out. "These fellows are taking over the Arm, or they will if I let them. This is a good opportunity to correct their thinking."
"Very well," Pushy acceded reluctantly. "But I was envisioning the pleasure of ingesting their nutrients, slowly."
"I'll make it a part of the deal that they keep you supplied with glimp eggs," Retief offered. "I'm pretty sure they'll be in a mood to deal generously."
With that, he entered the dim-lit, kippered herring smelling air-lock and used the standard-model talker to demand audience with the captain, who identified himself as Bliff. He informed the officer that he had come to offer a possibility of survival.
"I'll blow you off the face of this Blurb-forsaken rock!" Captain Bliff replied heatedly.
"Don't," Retief cautioned. "It would spoil this nice beginning. Now let's talk terms."
"You wish to surrender?" Bliff queried hopefully.
"Don't let's waste time with jokes," Retief replied sternly. "If you'll lift off, report to HQ that Goblinrock is worse than ever, and arrange for a monthly shipment of glimp eggs and otherwise stay 10 A.U.'s away, I'll do what I can to see that you're not dissolved in digestive juices at your post."
"Sounds horrible." Bliff commented. "At my post, you say? Strange, these goblins—masters of disguise—I was told they were long, skinny purple fellows, and my non-coms swore they were prickly yellow things. Seems we were both wrong."
"That, Captain, is the understatement of the year," Retief told him.
3
"I suggest you accept, Pushy," Retief advised the compound being upon his return from inside the Ree boat. "It's the best deal you'll get. Captain Bliff was forced to land here because of a breakdown in his converter circuits. He landed beside the wreck because it was the only sign of life he saw. He was on the lookout for big yellow sausages, which it seems is the shape you were using the last time a Ree got away from here alive."
"I recall," the blue puffballs replied. "We were so busy mopping up the tasty morsels packed into the hold—it was a troopship— that we failed to notice one unit making a sneaky getaway in a lifeboat. Pity."
"Maybe not," Retief demurred. "The loss of a fully loaded troop carrier made an impression on Ree HQ. They put Goblinrock off limits. But now, by repairing this gunboat and sending it off safe and sound, you'll have a steady supply of food and no more harassment."
"I concede the proposal has its advantages," Pushy concurred. "I suppose we may as well contain ourselves in patience until the first load of goodies arrives—and after that, perhaps well reconsider."
"Don't," Retief advised firmly. "They can stand off and bombard you from space easily enough, but if you're providing a repair and refit station, they'll hold off."
"Very well," the puffball agreed. "Just get that hatch open again and we'll set things to rights in there."
Retief opened the hatch an inch, and the blue tendril entered after a final caution from Retief not to snack between meals, to reemerge half a minute later.
"Simple enough," the silent voice reported. "Merely a matter of matching resultance in the boomer circuits." At that moment, the mended gunboat emitted a soft buzzing and lifted off, reoriented itself and sped away.
"OK," the now-blue organism said, with a crisp change of subject, "perhaps we'd best see to the reconstruction of your own somewhat cryptic vessel. Tell me, Retief, is it correct for its components to be deployed over three quarters of an acre, or was it formerly more tightly organized?"
"It was all in one piece," Retief explained. "Except for a certain amount of wear and tear."
"We shall examine the components, and deduce their original configuration as best we can," Pushy said briskly.
Retief watched as the blue entity sent out a multitude of wiry shoots to quest over the wreckage, apparently unaffected by the heat still radiating therefrom. At a number of points, small subassemblies began to accrete as the busy tendrils brought in scattered fragments to the center of activity. Then a curved section of hull began to grow, and the tendrils, working with such frantic speed that they seemed mere blurs, hurried to transfer everything inside the space thus enclosed. Before Retief's eyes the familiar lines of the elderly craft took form, while all but a few of the tendrils worked on, inside. Those on the outside busied themselves burnishing the tarnished brightwork, at Retief's request omitting the restoration of the old pattern of scars, while removing the dents and space-dust scratches.
"Let's change the name to Phoenix," Retief suggested as the restorers were groping at the prow, preparing to renew the fragments of the former name. Retief wrote the new name in the dust for Pushy to scan, after which it was deftly painted on in bold script.
After an hour, Pushy withdrew the array of tendrils and reported the task completed. Retief investigated, found the interior spanking new, smelling of fresh paint, new insulation, and oiled tump leather, with which the command chair had been reupholstered.
"Fine job," he told the organism. "Remember now, don't eat the crew when the first delivery arrives. And thanks for everything."
"Farewell, Motile One," Pushy replied. "It seems a pity you could not have arrived here a few million years earlier, thus obviating a great deal of lost effort."
"I was busy evolving," Retief explained. "But no regrets: you've done a nice job of evolving yourselves into a life-form every power in the Galaxy will be eager to befriend."
"Retief," Pushy's thought came hesitantly.
"Will you come back someday? We've found your visit most stimulating."
"I shall," Retief assured the curious being. "Now stand back; this is an old-fashioned ion drive, and it could singe even you."
-