Part 13 (2/2)
”Something here is bound to tickle them, Ser. Hasn't it worked on every visitor so far? Even if they're from another galaxy, they can't be all that different. So the hardware didn't fascinate them; maybe the economics of the galactic betting system will. Or the Secretariat's display of xen.o.biology and alien housekeeping. After all, our galaxy is bigger than the Clouds; the sheer size and range of it all has to be impressive.”
Nisrair's antennae were still rigid; Christmas went on.
”If that fails, there's always the psy-math boys down at Pole South, forecasting the results of their own forecasts. Remember, that's what finally lured those dematerialized clots from the Horsehead into the Federation?”
”I hope so, Peter... they are very powerful, you know. Their equipment-very advanced.”
Big man and bigger coleopteran eyed each other in wordless unity. Neither wanted to speak of the possibility of intergalactic hostility resulting from First Contact.
”I'll do anything I can, Ser, you know that.”
”I was going to say... if they express some deske, no matter how unorthodox-”
”Anything at all, Ser. They can break all the rules.”
”Thank you.” Ser hoisted his bulk and paused before the balcony on his way out. ”Delightful,” he murmured, again avuncularly bland. ”Always an idyllic interlude to visit here. You lead an Arcadian life, Peter.”
”Kurtis called, PC,” said Dana, as usual slipping in before Christmas could signal. ”He has the net on the f.l.a.n.g.e team going, but there's nothing to report yet except that the drivers seem to be playing somegame with their toes.”
”How Arcadian,” Christmas grunted.
”Also, there's a complaint from one of the big cat teams. They claim the target doesn't look human enough, their beast won't chase it.”
”Pa.s.s that one to Detweiler; that's a Secretariat problem.... Oh! On your Ankru hunch: run me the tridis of all their animals, will you? That giant rep win makes them three out of four now-all in two days.
I think you've got something.”
The Ankru entries came to his screen; the red archosaur type Christmas had seen, then a burly-legged running bird, and a tufted cheetah-like affak with a build like a rope slung between two stumps, and finally a slimy-looking tub of a thing which apparently navigated on a broad keel, propelled by paddles.
”That's the herbivorous amphibian,” Dana said. The herbi-amph opened one yawning end at the camera.
”High-gravity builds, I'd say,” Christmas mused. ”Call Lament and tell him to run a covert check on their grav compensators for starters. It could be they have found a way to screw up their handicap.
Oh-and while you're onto him, get that report on the compound life-swarm geehinkus from the Coalsack, will you? Detweiler's shop should never have put it in the social insect cla.s.ses; we've had two complaints of fouling-”
BOOM! BOO-O-O-O-M-M-M-M! ! ! !.
The resounding overhead thunder sent them both jumping for the balcony, to be greeted by a sight they had seen only on historitapes-a blazing rocket exhaust wavering down to land beyond the hotels.
Christmas stared. Behind him the innercom was yammering.
”-Unauthorized landing! Repeat, red alert, unidentified alien landing-” It was the voice of the Gal Q security satellite.
”PC! A rocket's coming down on my minirodent tracks!” screamed a soprano.
Christmas vaulted onto his sled. ”Get a firescreen over those rats, Dana!” He took off, barely noticing that Dana had pushed something into his hand.
As he cleared the hotel domes, he saw the alien s.h.i.+p squatting in a volcano of smoke. The fireboys howled past, foam jets reaching for the intruder. The blaze was plastered down by the time Christmas skidded to a stop. Kurtis's blue prowler whined in behind him. The security chief was whispering orders into his collar. He raised one finger at Christmas without taking his eyes off the alien s.h.i.+p.
The foam around the s.h.i.+p was wriggling. Minirodents, ludicrously befoamed, were das.h.i.+ng in all directions, many without jockeys.
”Lily! Lily! Are you all right?” Christmas called, and saw his a.s.sistant steward rise up from under an overturned stand wiping gobs of foam off her face. The minirodents rushed to her, formed a solid pile around her feet and scrambled onto her shoulders and head.
The alien's port swung down to make a ramp. Three squat figures peered out through the fading smoke. Then a flamboyantly uniformed blond chimpanze strode onto the ramp, tossed his yellow mop out of his eyes, and gave out a ringing ululation ending in an interogative note.
”Voder's coming in a minute,” Kurtis said. ”Look at those side arms-what the holy galaxy are they, s.p.a.ce opera?”
The alien caterwauled again. Christmas, realizing he was the senior official there, stepped forward holding up his hand.
On the alien ramp, the stranger stared at him, tossed his head again, and then all three of them ducked back inside. Christmas waited; Gal Q and the Secretary would be there in a minute from the far side of Admin.There came a siren roar from inside the s.p.a.ceboat and the three emerged again, wheeling what looked like surrealistic airsleds bigger than themselves and decked with grilles, pipes and streamers. The leader yawped at Christmas, who held up his hand again.
Suddenly all three aliens jammed horned helmets on their heads, sprang onto their machines, and took off in a thundering circle around their s.h.i.+p, as they began doing aerobatics, Secretary Detweiler's sled came over the hotel. The aliens zoomed onto him looping and crowding with ear-splitting blasts from their machines.
Kurtis had already taken off in pursuit. Christmas got airborn just in time to see what looked like a laser beam coming from the aliens. Yes! In the name of madness, it was a laser. Detweiler's sled had sagged sideways, and Kurtis was throwing up his screens. Christmas put up his own, becoming vaguely aware that he had a minirodent on his head. He gained alt.i.tude and gave chase.
The aliens were now circling a cl.u.s.ter of M/T masts and firing at the rigging, but Kurtis was on top of them. Christmas saw him nail one with come-along spray and then miss another, who darted toward Christmas. The thing Dana had given him had turned out to be a hand stunner. Christmas picked off the alien at low power as he went by and saw him go into a long glide to the beach. Kurtis, followed docilely by the come-alonged alien, was turning tight circles on the last rider's tail, forcing him down away from his s.h.i.+p.
Christmas got the minirodent's tail out of his eye and started back to the alien boat. Ambulance crews were converging, as Detweiler's sled limped in.
Suddenly the last alien doubled and streaked for his s.h.i.+p at ground level, his laser beam looping wildly.
”Down! Everybody down!” Christmas bellowed, heading the melee. Just as the alien almost gained his ramp he slumped off his machine and fell into the foam. His sled crashed into the s.h.i.+p wall and fell beyond him.
Lily the track steward emerged from under the ramp, making cooing noises to the minirodents clinging to her. On her head, one of the rodent jockeys was bolstering a tiny handgun.
”Snedecor got him, PC! Snedecor got him!” Lily yelled, wading out.
Kurtis and the now zombie-like alien had landed. The voder crew came up.
”Snedecor got him!” Lily caroled.
”What in creation were they trying?” Christmas asked.
The security chief glowered reproachfully at his captive, now being hooked up to the voder.
”Well know shortly,” he said. ”Some bunch of flipping primitives who heard we had races, is my guess. Who's Snedecor?”
On Lily's head, Snedecor bowed and waved composediy.
”Good shooting.... What's that mouse doing with sidearms?”
”Old ruling-all beings less than nine centims high authorized to carry nonlethal defense,” Christmas told him. ”h.e.l.lo, Det. Glad you're okay. Well, I guess the rest of this is your job. Let me know the score, Lily, I've got to get back. Oh-here.”
He disengaged the minirodent and handed it over. ”Did anyone ever tell you you have an idyllic job?”
He zoomed for home, pausing to let another lizard race finish before he crossed the tracks.
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