Part 12 (1/2)
Both men spun around, unslinging their rifles with the easy grace of long practice.
Then they froze, as if someone had doused them with a few gallons of liquid air. Their eyes glazed, and their mouths hung agape.
It was not Dorothy Lamour, they decided, because she was not wearing a sarong. She was not even wearing a gra.s.s skirt.
Sergeant McClusky recovered his voice. ”You ain't supposed to be here, dressed like that, ma'am,” he said to the vision of loveliness.
”Undressed like that,” Corporal Quinn corrected automatically.
”Even if you was dressed,” said McClusky, ”you hadn't ought to be here. Women aren't allowed on this island.” He was still trying to figure out what to do when a voice bellowed out from the next post down the sh.o.r.e.
”Corporal of the guard! Post Number Five! I got a woman on my post-a nekkid woman!
Whadda I do now?”
Before Corporal Quinn could answer, two more posts called out that they had the same trouble.
”Why all the fuss?” asked the girl, wide-eyed. ”We just want to go swimming in your pretty lagoon.”
”No, you don't,” said McClusky, recovering his wits at last. ”You're under arrest, lady.” He reached out to grab her with one brawny fist, but his hand closed on empty air. The girl was deceptively fast. She backed away, still smiling, and McClusky made another lunge for her.
He missed and lost his balance as she danced back out of the way. As he fell forward, he heard Quinn yell: ”Halt! Halt or I fire!”
He broke his fall with the b.u.t.t of his rifle, and twisted to an upright sitting position. The girl, he noticed, was running ~way from the lagoon, toward the sea, with Quinn after her in hot pursuit, still calling for her to halt.
All around, there were similar cries. Sergeant McClusky wondered how many unclad females there were running around on Lukiuni Atoll-where there couldn't possibly be any women.
Not a man there noticed what was going on out in the lagoon itself. The figure of a man suddenly materialized from nowhere a few inches above the surface of the water. Then he dropped in with scarcely a splash.
Since Fesswick did not breathe, there was no necessity for him to wear any of the usual diving equipment. All he had to do was swim to the steel net, cut through it, and head for the little Thregonnese s.p.a.ce capsule. He wasn't the least bit worried about the Navy's probing sonar beams; the nullifiers operated by Lord Curvert would take care of them. As far as the sonar operators could tell, there was nothing at all unusual in the lagoon.
Fesswick got busy opening the airlock of the little capsule.
Up on sh.o.r.e, Sergeant McClusky yelled at Corporal Quinn, who was several yards away, at the sea's edge, staring into the waves. Lights were coming on allover the tiny atoll. Pounding footsteps could be heard from every quarter as confused men ran every which way.
”She just dived into the sea and never came up,” Corporal Quinn was saying wonderingly.
”Why didn't you shoot?” bellowed McClusky.
”Who the h.e.l.l do you think I am?” Quinn bellowed back. ”Mike Hammer?”
So far, n.o.body else had fired a shot, either, and by that time, all four of the Thregonnese had dived into the sea, changed into porpoises, and were swimming rapidly away from the atoll.
The final surprise came when, with a great geyser of erupting water, the Thregonnese s.p.a.ce capsule shot up out of the lagoon and vanished rapidly into the moonlit sky.
There would be a lot of explaining to do that night and for many nights to come, in Navy circles. But there would never be any explanation.
”And now,” said Lord Curvert gently, ”the question arises as to what to do with you gentlemen.”
They were sitting in the Venus Club again. The s.p.a.ce capsule, indetectable to any Earth science, was sitting on the roof of the building.
”Why, just make your report and let us go,” Forbin said politely. ”It was only a misdemeanor. We haven't done anything felonious. We didn't expose anything to the natives or interfere in any way. Just let us go, and we'll pay the fine according to the law.”
Lord Curvert was nodding slowly, and there was an oddly sleepy look in his eyes. ”Yes,” he said.
”Certainly. Just let you go.”
The Thregonnese looked at each other with delight, and then looked back at the Observer.
”Or, better yet,” said Forbin insidiously, ”just let us stay for a while. How about that?”
”Yes. Yes,” his lords.h.i.+p said rather gla.s.sily. ”I could just let you stay for a while.”
”As a matter of fact,” Forbin went on in the same tone, ”we have a few favors we'd like you to do for us.”
”Favors,” said Lord Curvert. ”Certainly. What favors?”
”Well, for instance, why don't you stand on your head?”
”Certainly.”
”And click your heels together ,” added Omboser, ignoring the scowls that Forbin and the others shot him.
”Certainly,” agreed his lords.h.i.+p. Placing hands and head on the floor, Lord Curvert solemnly upended himself, balanced carefully, and clapped his heels together.
”We've done it!” Forbin said gleefully. ”We're in!”
”You sure that a.s.sistant of his-that Mr. Jones can't reach us here?” Alsnokine asked, a trifle apprehensively. ”Or see us?”
”Not a chance,” Forbin said. ”I turned on the nullifiers in our s.h.i.+p myself.”
”We've done it,” Lubix gloated. ”In spite of all the setbacks, we have our s.h.i.+p, and we have the Observer. Now we can start having a little fun.”
”Are you gentlemen just going to leave me like this?” Lord Curvert asked politely.
They all turned to look at him.
He did a neat handspring-and-flip, and landed on his feet. ”A confession of intent,” he said mildly, ”is bad enough. When combined with an actual attempt, it becomes very bad indeed.”
None of them said anything.