The Keith Laumer MEGAPACK®: 21 Classic Stories. Keith Laumer

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on Ivory just sat under those domes and read dials. But I guess bein’ Lemuel’s cousin you was raised different.”

      “As a matter of fact—”

      “Have to get you some real clothes, though. Those city duds don’t stand up on ’Dobe.”

      Retief looked down at the charred, torn and sweat-soaked powder-blue blazer and slacks.

      “This outfit seemed pretty rough-and-ready back home,” he said. “But I guess leather has its points.”

      “Let’s get on back to camp. We’ll just about make it by sundown. And, look. Don’t say anything to Lemuel about me thinking you were a Flap-jack.”

      “I won’t, but—”

      Potter was on his way, loping off up a gentle slope. Retief pulled off the sodden blazer, dropped it over a bush, added his string tie and followed Potter.

      II

      “We’re damn glad you’re here, mister,” said a fat man with two revolvers belted across his paunch. “We can use every hand. We’re in bad shape. We ran into the Flap-jacks three months ago and we haven’t made a smart move since. First, we thought they were a native form we hadn’t run into before. Fact is, one of the boys shot one, thinkin’ it was fair game. I guess that was the start of it.” He stirred the fire, added a stick.

      “And then a bunch of ’em hit Swazey’s farm here,” Potter said. “Killed two of his cattle, and pulled back.”

      “I figure they thought the cows were people,” said Swazey. “They were out for revenge.”

      “How could anybody think a cow was folks?” another man put in. “They don’t look nothin’ like—”

      “Don’t be so dumb, Bert,” said Swazey. “They’d never seen Terries before. They know better now.”

      Bert chuckled. “Sure do. We showed ’em the next time, didn’t we, Potter? Got four.”

      “They walked right up to my place a couple days after the first time,” Swazey said. “We were ready for ’em. Peppered ’em good. They cut and run.”

      “Flopped, you mean. Ugliest lookin’ critters you ever saw. Look just like a old piece of dirty blanket humpin’ around.”

      “It’s been goin’ on this way ever since. They raid and then we raid. But lately they’ve been bringing some big stuff into it. They’ve got some kind of pint-sized airships and automatic rifles. We’ve lost four men now and a dozen more in the freezer, waiting for the med ship. We can’t afford it. The colony’s got less than three hundred able-bodied men.”

      “But we’re hanging onto our farms,” said Potter. “All these oases are old sea-beds—a mile deep, solid topsoil. And there’s a couple of hundred others we haven’t touched yet. The Flap-jacks won’t get ’em while there’s a man alive.”

      “The whole system needs the food we can raise,” Bert said. “These farms we’re trying to start won’t be enough but they’ll help.”

      “We been yellin’ for help to the CDT, over on Ivory,” said Potter. “But you know these Embassy stooges.”

      “We heard they were sending some kind of bureaucrat in here to tell us to get out and give the oases to the Flap-jacks,” said Swazey. He tightened his mouth. “We’re waitin’ for him….”

      “Meanwhile we got reinforcements comin’ up, eh, boys?” Bert winked at Retief. “We put out the word back home. We all got relatives on Ivory and Verde.”

      “Shut up, you damn fool!” a deep voice grated.

      “Lemuel!” Potter said. “Nobody else could sneak up on us like that.”

      “If I’d a been a Flap-jack; I’d of et you alive,” the newcomer said, moving into the ring of fire, a tall, broad-faced man in grimy leather. He eyed Retief.

      “Who’s that?”

      “What do ya mean?” Potter spoke in the silence. “He’s your cousin….”

      “He ain’t no cousin of mine,” Lemuel said slowly. He stepped to Retief.

      “Who you spyin’ for, stranger?” he rasped.

      Retief got to his feet. “I think I should explain—”

      A short-nosed automatic appeared in Lemuel’s hand, a clashing note against his fringed buckskins.

      “Skip the talk. I know a fink when I see one.”

      “Just for a change, I’d like to finish a sentence,” said Retief. “And I suggest you put your courage back in your pocket before it bites you.”

      “You talk too damned fancy to suit me.”

      “Maybe. But I’m talking to suit me. Now, for the last time, put it away.”

      Lemuel stared at Retief. “You givin’ me orders…?”

      Retief’s left fist shot out, smacked Lemuel’s face dead center. He stumbled back, blood starting from his nose; the pistol fired into the dirt as he dropped it. He caught himself, jumped for Retief…and met a straight right that snapped him onto his back: out cold.

      “Wow!” said Potter. “The stranger took Lem…in two punches!”

      “One,” said Swazey. “That first one was just a love tap.”

      Bert froze. “Hark, boys,” he whispered. In the sudden silence a night lizard called. Retief strained, heard nothing. He narrowed his eyes, peered past the fire—

      With a swift lunge he seized up the bucket of drinking water, dashed it over the fire, threw himself flat. He heard the others hit the dirt a split second behind 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’ stealthy progress brought him to a slight rise of ground. With infinite caution he raised himself, risking a glance over an out-cropping 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.

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