Retief Unbound Read Online Free PDF

and threw himself flat. He
heard the others hit the dirt a split second after him.
    "You move fast for a city
man," breathed Swazey beside him. "You see pretty good too. We'll
split and take 'em from two sides. You and Bert from the left, me and Potter
from the right."
    "No," said Retief.
"You wait here. I'm going out alone."
    "What's the idea . . . ?"
    "Later. Sit tight and keep
your eyes open." Retief took a bearing on a treetop faintly visible
against the sky and started forward.
    Five minutes' cautious progress brought
Retief to a slight rise of ground. With infinite caution he raised himself and
risked a glance over an outcropping of rock. The stunted trees ended just
ahead. Beyond, he could make out the dim contour of rolling desert: Flap-jack
country. He got to his feet, clambered over the stone, still hot after a day of
tropical heat, and moved forward twenty yards. Around him he saw nothing but
drifted sand, palely visible in the starlight, and the occasional shadow of
jutting shale slabs. Behind him the jungle was still. He sat down on the
ground to wait.
    It was ten minutes before a
movement caught his eye; something had separated itself from a dark mass of
stone, and glided across a few yards of open ground to another shelter. Retief
watched. Minutes passed. The shape moved again, slipped into a shadow ten feet
distant. Retief felt the butt of the power pistol with his elbow. His guess had
better be right. . . .
    There was a sudden rasp, like
leather against concrete, and a flurry of sand as the Flap-jack charged. Retief
rolled aside, then lunged, throwing his weight on the flopping Flap-jack—a
yard square, three inches thick at the center, and all muscle. The ray-like
creature heaved up, curled backward, its edge rippling, to stand on the
flattened rim of its encircling sphincter. It scrabbled with its prehensile
fringe-tentacles for a grip on Retief's shoulders. Retief wrapped his arms
around the creature and struggled to his feet. The thing was heavy, a hundred
pounds at least; fighting as it was, it seemed more like five hundred.
    The Flap-jack reversed its tactics,
becoming limp. Retief grabbed and felt a thumb slip into an orifice.
    The creature went wild. Retief hung
on, dug the thumb in deeper.
    "Sorry, fellow," he
muttered between his clenched teeth. "Eye-gouging isn't gentlemanly, but
it's effective. . . ."
    The Flap-jack fell still; only its
fringes rippling slowly. Retief relaxed the pressure of his thumb. The
creature gave a tentative jerk; the thumb dug in. The Flap-jack went limp
again, waiting.
    "Now that we understand each
other," said Retief, "lead me to your headquarters."
    Twenty minutes' walk into the
desert brought Retief to a low rampart of thorn branches: the Flap-jacks' outer
defensive line against Terry forays. It would be as good a place as any to
wait for the next move by the Flap-jacks. He sat down, eased the weight of his
captive off his back, keeping a firm thumb in place. If his analysis of the
situation was correct, a Flap-jack picket should be along before too long. ...
    A penetrating beam of red light
struck Retief in the face, then blinked off. He got to his feet. The captive
Flap-jack rippled its fringe in an agitated way. Retief tensed his thumb.
    "Sit tight," he said.
"Don't try to do anything hasty. . . ." His remarks were falling on
deaf ears—or no ears at all- but the thumb spoke as loudly as words.
    There was a slither of sand, then
another. Retief became aware of a ring of presences drawing closer.
    Retief tightened his grip on the
creature. He could see a dark shape now, looming up almost to his own
six-three. It appeared that the Flap-jacks came in all sizes.
    A low rumble sounded, like a
deep-throated growl. It strummed on, then faded out. Retief cocked his head,
frowning.
    "Try it two octaves
higher," he said.
    "Awwrrp! Sorry. Is that
better?" a clear voice came from the darkness.
    "That's fine," Retief
said. "I'm here to arrange an exchange of