Free Retief-Ambassador to Space by Keith Laumer Page A

horizon, racing in its two-hour orbit around
the system's common center.
    A quarter of a mile distant across the park, the high,
peach-colored dome of the university library pushed up into the evening sky.
The darting forms of fighter planes were silhouetted beyond it, circling each
other with the agility of combative gnats. At the far end of the street, a
column of gaily caparisoned Gloian armored cars raced past, in hot pursuit of a
troop of light tanks flying the Blort pennant. The sky to the north and west
winked and nickered to the incessant dueling of Blue and Orange artillery.
There was a sharp, descending whistle as a badly aimed shell dropped half a
block away, sending a gout of pavement chips hurtling skyward. Retief waited
until the air was momentarily clear of flying fragments to cross the street and
head across the park.
    The high walls of the Center of Learning, inset with
convoluted patterns in dark-colored mosaic tile, reared up behind a dense
barrier of wickedly thorned shark trees. Retief used a small pocket beamer to
slice a narrow path through into the grounds, where a flat expanse of deep
green lawn extended a hundred yards to the windowless structure. Retief crossed
it, skirted a neatly trimmed rose bed where a stuffed dustowl lay staring up
into the night with red glass eyes. Above, a ragged scar showed in the
brickwork of the sacrosanct edifice. There were dense vines on the wall at that
point.
    It was an easy two-minute climb to the opening, beyond
which shattered glass cases and a stretch of hall were visible. Retief gave a
last glance at the searchlight-swept sky and stepped inside. Dim light glowed
in the distance. He moved silently along the corridor, pushed through a door
into a vast room filled with racks containing the fan-shaped books favored by
both Gloians and Blorts. As he did, a light stabbed out and flicked across his
chest, fixed on the center button of his dark green early-evening blazer.
    "Don't come any farther," a reedy voice
quavered. "I've got this light right in your eye, and a bloop gun aimed at
where I estimate your vitals to be."
    "The effect is blinding," Retief said. "I
guess you've got me." Beyond the feeble glow, he made out the fragile
figure of an aged Gloian draped in zebra-striped academic robes.
    "I suppose you sneaked in here to make off with a
load of Plushniki historical treasures," the oldster charged.
    "Actually I was just looking for a shady spot to load
my Brownie," Retief said soothingly.
    "Ah-hah, photographing Cultural Secrets, eh? That's
two death penalties you've earned so far. Make a false move, and it's three and
put."
    "You're just too sharp for me, Professor,"
Retief conceded.
    "Well, I do my job." The ancient snapped off the
light. "I think we can do without this. It gives me a splitting flurgache.
Now, you better come along with me to the bomb shelter. Those rascally Blorts
have been dropping shells into the Temple grounds, and I wouldn't want you to
get hurt before the execution."
    "Certainly. By the way, since I'm to be nipped in the
bud for stealing information, I wonder if it would be asking too much to get a
few answers before I go?"
    "Hmmm. Seems only fair. What would you like to
know?"
    "A number of things," Retief said. "To
start with, how did this war begin in the first place?"
    The curator lowered his voice. "You won't tell
anybody?"
    "It doesn't look as though I'll have the
chance."
    "That's true. Well, it seems it was something like
this ..."
     
4
    "... and they've been at it ever since," the
ancient Gloian concluded his recital. "Under the circumstances, I guess
you can see that the idea of a cessation of hostilities is unthinkable."
    "This has been very illuminating," Retief
agreed. "By the way, during the course of your remarks, I happened to
think of a couple of little errands that need attending to. I wonder if we
couldn't postpone the execution until tomorrow?"
    "Well—it's a little unusual. But with all this
shooting going on