Four waiters passed Retief's table without stopping. A fifth leaned
against the wall nearby, a menu under his arm.
At a table across the room, the Captain, now wearing a dress uniform
and with his thin red hair neatly parted, sat with a table of male
passengers. He talked loudly and laughed frequently, casting occasional
glances Retief's way.
A panel opened in the wall behind Retief's chair. Bright blue eyes
peered out from under a white chef's cap.
"Givin' you the cold shoulder, heh, Mister?"
"Looks like it, old-timer," Retief said. "Maybe I'd better go join the
skipper. His party seems to be having all the fun."
"Feller has to be mighty careless who he eats with to set over there."
"I see your point."
"You set right where you're at, Mister. I'll rustle you up a plate."
Five minutes later, Retief cut into a thirty-two ounce Delmonico backed
up with mushrooms and garlic butter.
"I'm Chip," the chef said. "I don't like the Cap'n. You can tell him I
said so. Don't like his friends, either. Don't like them dern Sweaties,
look at a man like he was a worm."
"You've got the right idea on frying a steak, Chip. And you've got the
right idea on the Soetti, too," Retief said. He poured red wine into a
glass. "Here's to you."
"Dern right," Chip said. "Dunno who ever thought up broiling 'em.
Steaks, that is. I got a Baked Alaska coming up in here for dessert.
You like brandy in yer coffee?"
"Chip, you're a genius."
"Like to see a feller eat," Chip said. "I gotta go now. If you need
anything, holler."
Retief ate slowly. Time always dragged on shipboard. Four days to
Jorgensen's Worlds. Then, if Magnan's information was correct,
there would be four days to prepare for the Soetti attack. It was a
temptation to scan the tapes built into the handle of his suitcase. It
would be good to know what Jorgensen's Worlds would be up against.
Retief finished the steak, and the chef passed out the baked Alaska and
coffee. Most of the other passengers had left the dining room. Mr. Tony
and his retainers still sat at the Captain's table.
As Retief watched, four men arose from the table and sauntered across
the room. The first in line, a stony-faced thug with a broken ear, took
a cigar from his mouth as he reached the table. He dipped the lighted
end in Retief's coffee, looked at it, and dropped it on the tablecloth.
The others came up, Mr. Tony trailing.
"You must want to get to Jorgensen's pretty bad," the thug said in a
grating voice. "What's your game, hick?"
Retief looked at the coffee cup, picked it up.
"I don't think I want my coffee," he said. He looked at the thug. "You
drink it."
The thug squinted at Retief. "A wise hick," he began.
With a flick of the wrist, Retief tossed the coffee into the thug's
face, then stood and slammed a straight right to the chin. The thug
went down.
Retief looked at Mr. Tony, still standing open-mouthed.
"You can take your playmates away now, Tony," he said. "And don't
bother to come around yourself. You're not funny enough."
Mr. Tony found his voice.
"Take him, Marbles!" he growled.
The thick-necked man slipped a hand inside his tunic and brought out a
long-bladed knife. He licked his lips and moved in.
Retief heard the panel open beside him.
"Here you go, Mister," Chip said. Retief darted a glance; a well-honed
french knife lay on the sill.
"Thanks, Chip," Retief said. "I won't need it for these punks."
Thick-neck lunged and Retief hit him square in the face, knocking him
under the table. The other man stepped back, fumbling a power pistol
from his shoulder holster.
"Aim that at me, and I'll kill you," Retief said.
"Go on, burn him!" Mr. Tony shouted. Behind him, the captain appeared,
white-faced.
"Put that away, you!" he yelled. "What kind of--"
"Shut up," Mr. Tony said. "Put it away, Hoany. We'll fix this bum
later."
"Not on this vessel, you won't," the captain said shakily. "I got my
charter to consider."
"Ram your charter," Hoany said harshly. "You won't be needing it long."
"Button your floppy mouth, damn you!" Mr. Tony snapped. He looked at
the man on the floor. "Get Marbles out of here. I ought to dump the
slob."
He turned and walked away. The captain signaled and two waiters came
up. Retief watched as they carted the casualty from the dining room.
The panel opened.
"I usta be about your size, when I was your age," Chip said. "You
handled them pansies right. I wouldn't give 'em the time o' day."
"How about a fresh cup of coffee, Chip?" Retief said.
"Sure, Mister. Anything else?"
"I'll think of something," Retief said. "This is shaping up into one of
those long days."
* * * * *
"They don't like me bringing yer meals to you in yer cabin," Chip said.
"But the cap'n knows I'm the best cook in the Merchant Service. They
won't mess with me."
"What has Mr. Tony got on the captain, Chip?" Retief asked.
"They're in some kind o' crooked business together. You want some more
smoked turkey?"
"Sure. What have they got against my going to Jorgensen's Worlds?"
"Dunno. Hasn't been no tourists got in there fer six or eight months. I
sure like a feller that can put it away. I was a big eater when I was
yer age."
"I'll bet you can still handle it, Old Timer. What are Jorgensen's
Worlds like?"
"One of 'em's cold as hell and three of 'em's colder. Most o' the
Jorgies live on Svea; that's the least froze up. Man don't enjoy eatin'
his own cookin' like he does somebody else's."
"That's where I'm lucky, Chip. What kind of cargo's the captain got
aboard for Jorgensen's?"
"Derned if I know. In and out o' there like a grasshopper, ever few
weeks. Don't never pick up no cargo. No tourists any more, like I says.
Don't know what we even run in there for."
"Where are the passengers we have aboard headed?"
"To Alabaster. That's nine days' run in-sector from Jorgensen's. You
ain't got another one of them cigars, have you?"
"Have one, Chip. I guess I was lucky to get space on this ship."
"Plenty o' space, Mister. We got a dozen empty cabins." Chip puffed
the cigar alight, then cleared away the dishes, poured out coffee and
brandy.
"Them Sweaties is what I don't like," he said.
Retief looked at him questioningly.
"You never seen a Sweaty? Ugly lookin' devils. Skinny legs, like a
lobster; big chest, shaped like the top of a turnip; rubbery lookin'
head. You can see the pulse beatin' when they get riled."
"I've never had the pleasure," Retief said.
"You prob'ly have it perty soon. Them devils board us nigh ever trip
out. Act like they was the Customs Patrol or somethin'."
There was a distant clang, and a faint tremor ran through the floor.
"I ain't superstitious ner nothin'," Chip said. "But I'll be
triple-damned if that ain't them boarding us now."
Ten minutes passed before bootsteps sounded outside the door,
accompanied by a clicking patter. The doorknob rattled, then a heavy
knock shook the door.
"They got to look you over," Chip whispered. "Nosy damn Sweaties."
"Unlock it, Chip." The chef opened the door.
"Come in, damn you," he said.
A tall and grotesque creature minced into the room, tiny hoof-like
feet tapping on the floor. A flaring metal helmet shaded the deep-set
compound eyes, and a loose mantle flapped around the knobbed knees.
Behind the alien, the captain hovered nervously.
"Yo' papiss," the alien rasped.
"Who's your friend, Captain?" Retief said.
"Never mind; just do like he tells you."
"Yo' papiss," the alien said again.
"Okay," Retief said. "I've seen it. You can take it away now."
"Don't horse around," the captain said. "This fellow can get mean."
The alien brought two tiny arms out from the concealment of the mantle,
clicked toothed pincers under Retief's nose.
"Quick, soft one."
"Captain, tell your friend to keep its distance. It looks brittle, and
I'm tempted to test it."
"Don't start anything with Skaw; he can clip through steel with those
snappers."
"Last chance," Retief said. Skaw stood poised, open pincers an inch
from Retief's eyes.
"Show him your papers, you damned fool," the captain said hoarsely. "I
got no control over Skaw."
* * * * *
The alien clicked both pincers with a sharp report, and in the same
instant Retief half-turned to the left, leaned away from the alien
and drove his right foot against the slender leg above the bulbous
knee-joint. Skaw screeched and floundered, greenish fluid spattering
from the burst joint.
"I told you he was brittle," Retief said. "Next time you invite pirates
aboard, don't bother to call."
"Jesus, what did you do! They'll kill us!" the captain gasped, staring
at the figure flopping on the floor.
"Cart poor old Skaw back to his boat," Retief said. "Tell him to pass
the word. No more illegal entry and search of Terrestrial vessels in
Terrestrial space."
"Hey," Chip said. "He's quit kicking."
The captain bent over Skaw, gingerly rolled him over. He leaned close
and sniffed.
"He's dead." The captain stared at Retief. "We're all dead men," he
said. "These Soetti got no mercy."
"They won't need it. Tell 'em to sheer off; their fun is over."
"They got no more emotions than a blue crab--"
"You bluff easily, Captain. Show a few guns as you hand the body back.
We know their secret now."
"What secret? I--"
"Don't be no dumber than you got to, Cap'n," Chip said. "Sweaties die
easy; that's the secret."
"Maybe you got a point," the captain said, looking at Retief. "All they
got's a three-man scout. It could work."
He went out, came back with two crewmen. They hauled the dead alien
gingerly into the hall.
"Maybe I can run a bluff on the Soetti," the captain said, looking back
from the door. "But I'll be back to see you later."
"You don't scare us, Cap'n," Chip said. "Him and Mr. Tony and all his
goons. You hit 'em where they live, that time. They're pals o' these
Sweaties. Runnin' some kind o' crooked racket."
"You'd better take the captain's advice, Chip. There's no point in your
getting involved in my problems."
"They'd of killed you before now, Mister, if they had any guts. That's
where we got it over these monkeys. They got no guts."
"They act scared, Chip. Scared men are killers."
"They don't scare me none." Chip picked up the tray. "I'll scout around
a little and see what's goin' on. If the Sweaties figure to do anything
about that Skaw feller they'll have to move fast; they won't try
nothin' close to port."
"Don't worry, Chip. I have reason to be pretty sure they won't do
anything to attract a lot of attention in this sector just now."
Chip looked at Retief. "You ain't no tourist, Mister. I know that much.
You didn't come out here for fun, did you?"
"That," Retief said, "would be a hard one to answer."