Reward for Retief (48 page)

            "Old Nudine and her new
boyfriend, some clown they call 'Small'," Dirty Eddie supplied. "Got
what's coming to 'em, nosing around and all. Caught 'em at the temple."

            "Why, they're our
friends!" Magnan wailed. "Our former associates, that is," he
amended. "Perhaps it's not too late," he whimpered, as Retief brushed
past him and wrenched the closet door open. Small stepped through, carrying
Nudine in his arms.

            "Thanks, Retief,"
the big fellow muttered. "Pore gal got knocked down by that overgrowed
'pillar, yonder." He put her gently on the narrow cot at one side of the
tidy room.

            "Had us quite a time
since you fellers disappeared," Small remarked.

           
"We
disappeared?"
Magnan yelped. "It was
you
who were suddenly among the absent.
Where did you go? What happened? We were together in the cave—"

            "Right," Small
agreed. "Then old Smeer and his boys come along."

            "Those lowlifes are
still bugging people?" Sol yelped. "I thought f d dealt with that crowd
once and for all when I fenced 'em in!"

            "Not quite, Sol,"
Retief told the old fellow. "The situation here on Sardon isn't quite as
simple as it appeared at first. Each time you've meddled with the Basic
Postulate, you thereby altered the very phenomenon you were attempting to
employ. Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle at work on the mega-scale."

            "Who's this
Heisenberg?" Sol demanded. "Sounds like a wise guy to me!"

            "Not a wise guy,
Captain," Magnan corrected. "A wise
man."

           
"Sounds
like a cop-out to me," Sol returned. "I guess I can say what goes on
my own—I mean, finder's keepers and all—without this Heisenberg butting in. He
should butt out already!"

            "Professor Doktor
Heisenberg has never left Terra, Captain," Retief soothed the ruffled
skipper. "In fact, he's buried there. His principle of uncertainty was a
purely theoretical concept, at the macroscopic level."

            "Retief!" Magnan
spoke up sharply, pointing out the window. "Those yellow clouds: they look
like something painted by N. C. Wyeth! And in that connection, it's clear what
the city reminded me of: an Impressionist painting, as if one had constructed
buildings to match Pissaro's sketchy technique. Even the cottage here—it's
straight out of Monet!" He paused to blink at the landscape. "That
bistro—the Cloud Cuckoo Club: the bar at the
Folies Bergere
circa 1880
to the life! Even Nudine, or Jacinthe, Manet's
Dinner on the Grass.
Someone
has evoked in substance the fantasies of the great artists!"

            "There's the guy,"
Sol accused, pointing at Prince William. "I trieda keep it homey, ya know,
but as soon as
he
come along, things started to go to pot. That town o'
his! Looks like it was stuck together outa slabs o' wet cardboard!"

            The prince nodded affably.
"When I discovered that my fancies took on form here," he told them
casually, "I naturally did my best to make that form as pleasing to the
eye as possible. A pity the captain here had such abominable taste; I was
forced to re-do practically everything he'd blotted on the landscape."

            "Where'd them knights
with the iron suits come from?" Sol challenged.
"They
don't
add nothing to the scenery."

            "Sir Farbelow was no
invention of mine, sir," the prince replied. "He seems to have arisen
from some suppressed romantic streak in the blackguard Overbore, perhaps aided
by Prince Sobhain's boyish fantasies."

            "Sir!" Magnan
burst out. "I must protest! Mr. Overbore is a fully accredited Terran
diplomat and Counselor to the Terran Mission and my personal chief! One can
hardly stand by and hear him slandered repeatedly in this fashion!"

            "Calmly, Ben,"
Retief counseled. "I'm afraid His Highness is right."

            "But—" Magnan
objected. "How would a mere Second Secretary know of such matters, even if
they had in fact transpired?"

            "The boys had a rather
unguarded conversation in my presence," Retief told him. "They didn't
know I was there."

            "He's right, Mister
Magnan," Small put in. "Me and Nudine here caught some o' that—reason
we went to hide out in the back o' the cave. That didn't work out good, like
you know. Anyways, we come back and everybody was gone. Never left no note,
neither."

            "That," Magnan
pointed out, "is a quadruple negative."

            "Chaucer used 'em all
the time," Sol commented. "I had plenty time to scan my tape liberry
that I fetched outa the wreckage," he explained. " 'Who never yet no
villayne ne said unto maner wight.' Four: count 'em."

            "That is hardly the
matter at issue here," Magnan reminded the captain sharply. In an aside to
Retief, he whispered, "Apparently the old fellow is paranoiac. He seems to
think he's Captain Goldblatt."

            "You're calling
me
nuts
already?" the old boy yelled. "Mr, I'd be nuts if I didn't get a
little uptight, I guess, with you folks comin around here trespassing, and
giving
me
a hard time, and all the rest of what's happened! On top o'
that now I got that tractor making close passes just to scare me. Works,
too."

            "Just
who
is
operating that machine in that careless fashion?" Magnan demanded.
"Very nearly crushed me!"

            "That was old Eddie
here, doin that," Sol told him. "Come by here and trieda stiff me for
protection money. Hah! I shuld pay
that
loser! Looks like he run into
Worm with that Mark XX o' his. Too bad he survived! But maybe I could fix
that!"

            Eddie, still on the floor,
recoiled, scrabbling backward away from his irate host. "I done
nothing!" he croaked. "Just tryna clear out a road, is all. Damn
dragon come along an turrit my rig over, nearly squashed me!

            "And a good thing, too,
you lowlife!" Sol yelled. Magnan caught his arm.

            "Pray withold your just
and dispassionate vengeance, Captain," he pled. "I fear your
unfocused retaliatory measures have complicated matters considerably. That
baroque incident involving a rhinocerous, for example, I suspect," he
added, addressing Retief.

            "Sorry, sir,"
Retief replied. "I don't remember a rhinocerous."

            "Whattaya mean
'dispassionate?" Sol demanded. "And don't be too sure about just.'
These mugs don't worry about the details; why should I?"

            "Because, Sol,"
Magnan reminded the officer, "you are a duly licensed master of a
deep-space vessel, and as such a representative of Terran law and order here in
this remote reach of the Arm."

            "Big deal," Sol
dismissed the idea. "Besides, my ticket prolly lapsed some time ago. I
been here a while, you know."

            "In addition to
which," Magnan continued his appeal, "when the scope of your
discoveries and your heroic stand here versus the forces of anarchy become
generally known, you will doubtless be recognized as a Hero of Terra.
Schoolchildren will seek to emulate you; you must set them a good
example."

            " 'Emulate'?" Sol
echoed. "Ain't that where they cut off a guy's—?"

            "Hardly, Captain,"
Magnan cut him off quickly. "There are ladies present, sir, must I remind
you?"

            "Skip that," Sol
grunted. "I didn't invite 'em. I should throw maybe a tea-party for a
bunch a bums? Let's get back to what business you boys have got,
trespassing."

            "We are attempting,
Captain," Magnan stated tartly, "to get to the bottom of the series
of unlikely events which have unfolded here, to the detriment of the dignity of
the Terran Mission to Zanny-du—or to Goldblatt's Other World, if you
prefer."

            "Nothin to me,"
Sol dismissed the matter. "What's important is I had a nice set-up here
for my retirement years, and that ship-load o' trouble-makers comes along and
nothing's been peaceful since."

            "I understood you to
say earlier that it was Worm, your former pet, which was at the root of the
problem, Sol," Magnan put in promptly.

            "You ain't been
listening good, Mr. Ah," Sol snapped. "That's only part o' the
picture. It was that Boreover that really messed things up—planting that nexus
box and all."

            "Still on that tack,
eh?" Magnan objected. "But it
was
your Worm, or Wiggly you
caged here."

            "Yeah, that's
right," Sol confirmed promptly. "Trieda oust me and take over. But I
fooled him." He paused to chuckle. "I picked up a couple of tricks
from the sucker, and then I traced him. That's how I got to lock him up, in the
Recess there."

            "For a while,"
Magnan told the old man, "we thought
you
were Worm—"

            "What, me?" Sol
interrupted. "You're on a bum lay, feller. I ain't no worm!"

            "Mr. Magnan said, Tor a
while'," Retief pointed out. "But then something you said told us the
truth."

            "Sure, I told you the
truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth!"

            "Well, Jim,"
Magnan prompted, "what
is
the truth?"

2

           
don't forget,
Junior's long-silent voice spoke up suddenly. I
did try to help you—gave you valuable
hints and all; though it seems only mr. retief here was sharp enough to pick up
on them.

           
"Good
lord," Magnan gasped. "I was quite persuaded Junior was Worm's
rebellious offspring."

            "In a sense, he
was," Retief commented. "Worm learned from the captain and then it
became the teacher: combining its natural endowments with the Terra worldview,
it took over the relationship and shaped the captain's energies to its own needs."

            "I see!" Magnan
exclaimed. "It reprogrammed the captain to a degree, but was not, luckily,
able to subvert him completely. Thus the captain retained sufficient control to
enable him to rap and pen up the ravening monster! Well done, Captain!"
Magnan reached for Sol's hand and shook it enthusiastically. Sol disengaged
himself from Magnan's grip and backed away, wiping his hand on his pantsleg.

            "Never ravened none,
far's I know," he objected. "Old Wiggly is all right, boys. Just got
a little carried away for a while is all. Thing's quiet down, I figger to have
a nice talk with him, get him straightened out."

            "Perish forbid!"
Magnan blurted. "Pray leave well enough alone!"

            "So who's in a hurry,
already?" the captain protested.

            "Got plenty time, now
you fellers come in and give yerselves up and all."

            "Came in?" Magnan
yelped. "Gave ourselves
up?
Are you
quite
mad?"

            "Naw, I'm cool,"
Sol soothed. "But if I don't havta be on my guard against three sets o'
buttinskies, I can maybe relax a while and reason with him. I know him,
remember. Raised him from that big." Once again he indicated two inches
with a blunt thumb and forefinger.

            " 'Reason'?"
Magnan echoed. "One doesn't reason with an ambulatory appetite!"

            "I like it," Sol
commented. "I guess you got guts after all, Mr. Magnan, making up a
alliterative nickname for a critter which it could gulp you down in a gulp, if
you know what I mean—only he wouldn't—he's a pussycat, when you know him.
Anyway, he's locked up safe."