Free Dramocles: An Intergalactic Soap Opera by Robert Sheckley Page B

very quiet, no lapstraking. … No, this is no joke, and I am not drunk.”
    Falf put down the walkie-talkie. “They’re sending someone. What does your king want to tell our king?”
    “You’ll find out when he tells you,” Vitello said.
    “I just thought I’d ask. You might as well make yourself comfortable. They’ll take at least an hour to get here. I’ve got some lichen beer in my canteen. Do you know something? I’ve had three strange things happen to me this week, and this is the fourth.”
    “Tell me about them,” Vitello said, sitting on the ground and wrapping his cloak around him against the chill of night. “Would you like some of my wine?”
    “I sure would!” said Falf. He leaned his ray spear against a stunted tree and sat down beside Vitello, displaying that instantaneous trustfulness that belies the barbarian’s basically suspicious nature.

 
    20
    Back when the universe was young and still unsure of itself, there were a number of primitive races who inhabited the crowded worlds of the galactic center. One of these were the Vanir, barbarians addicted to shaggy dress and strange customs. Though far older than some branches of humankind, the Vanir never claimed to be the original, or Ur, race. The identity of the first true humans is still disputed, although the Lekkians have as good a claim as any.
    As they pushed outward in their lapstraked spaceships, the Vanir came to Glorm. Here they encountered the Ystradgnu, or Little People, as they were called by the many races taller than themselves. Many great battles were fought between the two, but at last the Vanir prevailed. They enjoyed a period of dominance before the arrival of the last humans, fleeing a barren and poisoned Earth. Again there were great battles, resulting in the Vanir being driven off Glorm and out of the Local System and all the way back to the chilly outermost planet. The Ystradgnu had called this planet Wuullse, but the Vanir renamed it after themselves. Glorm and Vanir had fought many times since then, most notably during the expansionist phase of the short-lived Glormish Empire. Peace had prevailed for the last thirty years, sometimes precariously.
    At the time of this telling, Haldemar was high king of the Vanir, and his heart raged with aggressive tendencies. Oftentimes Haldemar lay on his thagskin in a drunken stupor and dreamed of the spoils to be gotten by a quick raid into Crimsole or Glorm. It was especially women that Haldemar was interested in: sleek, perfumed women to replace the large-thewed Vanir girls, who, in bed, could always be counted upon to say, at their moment of highest ecstasy, “Oh, ya, dis good fun.” Whereas civilized women always wanted to discuss their relationship with you, and that was exciting for a barbarian who had been brought up on a minimum of relationships and plenty of fresh air.
    Haldemar had been to civilization only once, when he was invited to make an appearance on the “Alien Celebrities“ show that the GBC had tried out for a season, then dropped. Haldemar remembered well the excitement and bustle around the studio, and how the people asking him questions had actually listened to the answers. It had been the greatest time in his life. He would do anything to get back into show business, and for several years had stayed near his telephone, waiting for a call from his agent.
    The call never came, and Haldemar grew to despise the fickle superficiality of the warm-planet peoples. His deepest desire was to let loose his lapstraked spaceships upon the effete civilizations of the inner worlds. But the inner-planet peoples had too much going for them. They had deadly weapons and fast ships scavenged from the ruins of Earth, and they banded together whenever the Vanir attacked any one of them. So Haldemar stayed his hand and waited for an opportunity, and meanwhile led his people in their migrations across Vanir in search of good grazing land for the luu, the small, fierce, carnivorous