"We'll murder them damn Greeks," Mike chortled.
* * * * *
"Shay, I'm not goin' in that thing," Mike protested.
"Can't fight 'em if we don't," Joe answered mournfully.
"They're big enough, all right," Mike admitted respectfully. "Wouldn't
some football coach like to have one o' _them_ on his squad!"
"C'mon, le's go." Joe shoved Mike toward the waiting ship, at the door
of which a behemoth of a figure waited patiently, watching with some
apparent disdain as the two, arms around each other's shoulders, weaved
unsteadily inside.
Inside the ship, Joe took a long pull at the bottle Mike passed him.
Strange, he thought, how an unforseeable factor, upsetting life's
routine equations, produces unguessed mental reactions. Until last
night he'd never had a drink in his life. Then a little thing like the
moon being blown up. Aloud he quoted,
"'Yet what are all such mysteries to me
Whose life is full of indices and surds?
x^2 + 7x + 53 - 11/3'"
"Whassat?"
"Lewish Carroll," Joe answered, and wondered greatly at the vast
amounts of liquor he had consumed in a short space of time.
"'Beware the Jabberwock, my son....'"
And Joe Waters, the world's most brilliant human, passed out.
* * * * *
They left Joe in the ship and dragged Mike before Slan. That gigantic
figure sat in regal splendor at the end of a long corridor that ran the
length of the vessel. On either side of Mike, as he stumbled toward the
throne which seemed miles away, uniformed giants stood at attention.
Had he stretched his arm he might have been able to rap a belt buckle.
The sensation of being a pygmy increased as he approached Slan.
Grouped around Slan, whose throne was on a platform several feet
high, stood members of what seemed to be a retinue. They sneered and
snickered as Mike drew near, and Mike had to strain his neck and
blurred eyes to see them.
"Are you ready to begin?" Slan asked in a voice that nearly deafened
Mike.
"We'll murder ya, ya bums," Mike answered belligerently. His
whiskey-fogged mind somehow assumed Joe was still by his side.
"Very well, then." And Slan extended an arm toward Mike, thumb pointed
up.
Mike promptly repeated the gesture, except that he pointed _his_ thumb
down.
Slan reached for a huge flagon of red liquid, which he poured slowly
onto the floor. Mike stared, then reached into a hip pocket and
produced a bottle of whiskey, swallowed some and vigorously smacked his
lips. Then he held the bottle out to Slan, grinning broadly.
Slan reached into a bag at his side, took out a handful of colored
pebbles, and scattered them on the floor. Mike scrambled after them and
stuffed them into his pocket, then struggled erect, panting with the
exertion.
Slan arose from his throne, stepped off the platform, and towered over
Mike.
"You surprise me," he boomed. "You and your little planet are smarter
than I expected. Go, and tell your people that they could not have
chosen a worthier representative."
It was a dazed and confused Mike who was led stumbling, and clutching
his bottle, back to the ship which was to take him to a free world.
* * * * *
Slan, meanwhile, found himself besieged by annoyed and puzzled
followers. He held up his hand for silence, and relapsed into native
Jovian.
"That earthling," he said sarcastically, "seems to have fared better
than you who are so proud of your intellects.
"When I held my thumb up, indicating our superiority in size and
strength, he pointed his thumb down, to show that physical power is
really of minor importance.
"I poured a red liquid onto the floor, dramatizing the effect of
conflict on them, if that should be my wish. He demonstrated his
fearlessness by producing a light-colored liquid and sampling it with
enjoyment--as his kind would react to such an encounter.
"Finally I flung out a handful of colored pebbles, displaying the
confusing array of languages, races, and ideas their world contains. He
scooped them into his pocket, showing that their diversity could still
be united into single purpose."
Slan looked contemptuously at the crestfallen faces of his men.
"It would be to our benefit if we had half their spirit in proportion
to our size," he said. Then he bellowed,
"Order all ships to withdraw at once!" To an aide he muttered, "We'll
leave this planet to those worthy of it."
* * * * *
Mike and Joe were hiding from a world delirious with joy and anxious to
heap glory upon its saviour--whom they thought was Joe Waters. Joe had
no intention of deluding the world in this regard, but right now he was
plying Mike with whiskey to get from him the story of what happened.
They were in the rear booth of a bar, and Mike kept insisting that Joe
knew perfectly well what had happened because he'd been right there.
"All right," Joe said coaxingly, "I know what happened. But tell me how
you're going to tell it, so we can get our stories straight."
"Can't understan' it," Mike said thickly, shaking his head. "The guy
was nuts."
"What happened?" Joe pleaded. Mike, who apparently had no saturation
point, gulped some more whiskey.
"First thing," he said, "the guy sticks his thumb up in the air, like
he's gonna give me the bum's rush. So I point mine down--if he tries to
kick me outa there before we even get a chance to talk business, I'll
floor 'im."
"Yeah, you would."
Mike ignored this comment, took yet another drink and wiped his lips on
the back of his hand. Joe watched this display of alcoholic immunity
with admiration, and Mike continued.
"Then he takes a bottle of this awful-looking wine and pours it out on
the floor.
"No wonder they been raising such a rumpus, Joe. With nothing but that
stuff to drink, I would too! So I pulled out my flask and took a swig,
to show what we've got, and I offer him some. You know something, Joe,"
and Mike leaned forward earnestly, "when that guy saw the kind of stuff
we drink he got a new respect, 'cause he takes a handful of jewels and
rolls 'em at me. Now, I don't look no gift horse in the teeth--I pocket
'em as fast as I get my hands on 'em. I got the rocks with me--here."
He pulled out the "pebbles" Slan had referred to--and jewels they were.
Fire shot from diamonds, rubies, emeralds, amethysts. Joe whistled.
"We can use the money that stuff will bring."
"Buy a liquor store?" Mike asked eagerly.
"Finance the development and launching of an interplanetary expedition."
"Ah, what the hell you want to do that for?"
"They've got eleven moons," Joe said grimly, "and all we want is one."