Free Retief and the Rascals by Keith Laumer

the
question. "It's scant explaining I'll be doing, vile Terries! In my
capacity as Environmental Coordinator for this Sector, I came here to look into
allegations that you Terries have been trafficking in contraband under the
guise of bestowing largess! This warehouse is my proof! In the morning, far
from doing penance, I shall arrive here with a squad of local vigilantes, as
well as Committees of Investigation from both my embassy and your own. I've no
doubt Sammy Swinepearl will be as outraged as I when I tell him whom I've
caught red-handed!" With that, he slipped behind a stack of bales, darted
to the exterior door, and was swallowed by the curious throng which had
gathered to peer into the darkness and hazard guesses as to what was going on
in there.
     
                "—soun's like old Shinth got duh goods on
Ben dis time!" one hazarded.
     
                "—annudder example o' skulduggery in high
places!" another countered. Hey! Dere's duh crinimal now! Let's get him,
boys! I guess we can fergit duh old race-riot fer a while and pick it up again
at dawn, right where we left off at, refreshed by a night o' mayhem and vandalism!"
With a yell, he and two others charged the barricade. As he vaulted over the
grating, Retief accidentally palmed him off-course, so that he impacted the
floor grin-first. His colleagues, closely followed by Shinth, had started
forward with hoarse yells, which changed to wails as Retief flipped the iron
grille upright directly in their path. As they piled up against it, he pushed
it over on top of them, and tumbled a stack of baled hides down on the grating,
effectively pinning all three in place, Shinth at the bottom of the struggling
heap.
     
                "Dirty pool, Retief!" the Groaci
hissed. "This was a classic 'Book 'em, Danno' situation, and it
ill-behooves a diplomat of your experience to thus fly in the face of
tradition! Let me up at once! At once, I say!" He had thrust his
small, lumpy head and one feeble arm through between the bars. "Assist
me!" he demanded. "Can't you see that in their struggles these
ruffians are savaging me, their benefactor? Wim, stop that!" he commanded.
     
                The Terrans were startled to hear the gravelly
voice of Wim Dit complain from the middle of the stack, "Now, Mister
Ambassador, you promised no publicity! And yet now Ben Magnan's on to me, and
Retief is squashing my ribs. You're on your own!"
     
                "Retief!" Shinth gasped. "I lie
here, a victim of treachery, undone by his own better nature! Lend me a
hand!"
     
                "Too bad, Mr. Ambassador," Retief
commiserated without enthusiasm. He grasped one of the Groaci's five gently
waving eyestalks and tugged. Shinth squealed.
     
                "Oops!" Retief commented. "I don't
think you're going to fit—unless I pull harder."
     
                "Jim, you wouldn't! Magnan gasped.
"That would make a dismal entry in your Promotion of Chumship column!
Release His Excellency at once! And as for you, Mr. Ambassador," he
shifted his scolding to the unfortunate alien, "I'm surprised at
you! Consorting with absolutely the worst element in Bloorish society! And
helping them violate Terry sovereignty, too! And you!" he addressed the
Grand Inquisitor. "You're in it, too! What do you have to say for yourselves,
you scamps?"
     
                "You wrong me, Ben," Shinth wailed.
"In me you see the archetypal selfless bureaucrat, risking all to complete
his mission of peace-making and the promotion of vigorous economic activity
here on Bloor! You're well aware that all of poor, bleeding Bloor's problems
arise from the failure of haughty Terra to provide food, clothing, and shelter
for the huddled masses of this unfortunate planet! Had you fellows initiated
Goodies for Undesirables a few decades sooner, political chaos would never have
eventuated here! So, kindly tell Jim to leggo my eye, and let us