Chapters (12)
“That’s one keg o’beer I owe you, mister,” Chip said. “Now let’s git outa here before the ship lifts and fries us.”
“The biggest problem the Jorgensen’s people will have is decontaminating the wreckage,” Retief said.
Magnan leaned forward. “Amazing,” he said. “They just kept coming, did they? Had they no intership communication?”
“They had their orders,” Retief said. “And their attack plan. They followed it.”
“What a spectacle,” Magnan said. “Over a thousand ships, plunging out of control one by one as they entered the stressfield.”
“Not much of a spectacle,” Retief said. “You couldn’t see them. Too far away. They all crashed back in the mountains.”
“Oh,” Magnan’s face fell. “But it’s as well they did. The bacterial bombs—”
“Too cold for bacteria. They won’t spread.”
“Nor will the Soetti,” Magnan said smugly, “thanks to the promptness with which I acted in dispatching you with the requisite data.” He looked narrowly at Retief. “By the way, you’re sure no… ah… message reached you after your arrival?”
“I got something,” Retief said, looking Magnan in the eye. “It must have been a garbled transmission. It didn’t make sense.”
Magnan coughed, shuffled papers. “This information you’ve reported,” he said hurriedly. “This rather fantastic story that the Soetti originated in the Cloud, that they’re seeking a foothold in the main Galaxy because they’ve literally eaten themselves out of subsistence—how did you get it? The one or two Soetti we attempted to question, ah…” Magnan coughed again. “There was an accident,” he finished. “We got nothing from them.”
“The Jorgensens have a rather special method of interrogating prisoners,” Retief said. “They took one from a wreck, still alive but unconscious. They managed to get the story from him. He died of it.”
“It’s immaterial, actually,” Magnan said. “Since the Soetti violated their treaty with us the day after it was signed. Had no intention of fair play. Far from evacuating the agreed areas, they had actually occupied half a dozen additional minor bodies in the Whate system.”
Retief clucked sympathetically.
“You don’t know who to trust, these days,” he said.
Magnan looked at him coldly.
“Spare me your sarcasm, Mr. Retief,” he said. He picked up a folder from his desk, opened it. “By the way, I have another little task for you, Retief. We haven’t had a comprehensive wildlife census report from Brimstone lately—”
“Sorry,” Retief said. “I’ll be tied up. I’m taking a month off. Maybe more.”
“What’s that?” Magnan’s head came up. “You seem to forget—”
“I’m trying, Mr. Counselor,” Retief said. “Goodbye now.” He reached out and flipped the key. Magnan’s face faded from the screen. Retief stood up.
“Chip,” he said, “we’ll crack that keg when I get back.” He turned to Anne-Marie.
“How long,” he said, “do you think it will take you to teach me to ski by moonlight?”