“He’s not here at the moment,” Sam extemporized. “Perhaps if you went away until later, say the day after tomorrow, maybe even next week. Yes, next week is good. I’m sure that he will be back then. Absolutely certain, as a matter of fact.”
“Hummmm…, you certain? I was told it is ready today.”
“Ah, there’s been a delay. Small problem, nothing to worry about, I’m sure,” Sam said, propelling the alien toward the door. “Well, sorry for the mix-up, but maybe we’ll see you later, day after tomorrow, next week for sure. Good-bye.”
The Peq seemed confused, but allowed Sam to take its arm and lead it from the office. “Hhmmmm… until then,” its translator buzzed in parting as Sam shut the door behind it.
Sam sagged. At least that crisis had been averted. Actually, he thought that he had handled it rather well, considering. He sat down to await Brill’s arrival. They had to figure out how to escape this situation else he was doomed.
“Where is she?” were Brill’s first words as he dashed through the doorway a short while later. “She said that she would come right over.” The young alien peered around.
“Who,” Sam said, “are you speaking about?”
“Ahbbbb, the buyer for our magazines. She arrived earlier than expected.”
A stab of suspicion gnawed at Sam’s mind. “This buyer wouldn’t by any chance have been a tall Pequodista?” Sam guessed. “Bit of a growth on her neck, perhaps?” he ventured. “Gray-skinned chap? Fancy dresser, by any chance?”
Brill knotted his tentacle. “Exactly. Is she in the other room? She said she was bringing the cash. She was very excited when I gave her a few details.”
“Er, there’s something you need to know,” Sam said cautiously. “It seems that there has been something of a mix-up.” Quickly he told Brill of how he had unceremoniously given the Pequodista buyer the boot. “But,” he concluded, “that isn’t a problem. You can just give her a call and have her pop over here and…” He was alarmed at the way that Brill had turned a pale emerald. “What is the problem?”
“I don’t know how to reach her,” Brill admitted ashamedly. “It was only a matter of luck that I ran into her at Galactic Hall. She has lots of places to visit while she is here.”
“I AM COME,” boomed a loud voice from the hallway. “OPEN THE WAY FORTRUZE.”
Sam shrank back. From the volume of the great voice he could imagine the size of alien in the hallway. It had to be huge. He wondered if it could lit through the doorway. With some trepidation he opened the door.
Sam was bemused to find a tiny, weasel-like creature outside. The alien was festooned with what looked like a mass of ropes. Perhaps, he surmised, that was some sort of leash. He looked around the edge of the doorway for the pet’s owner.
“I AM TRUZE,” the diminutive creature announced loudly as Sam jumped back in surprise. He could not believe that such a huge sound could emerge from such tiny lungs. “DO NOT STARE,” the alien continued.
“Sorry,” Sam said apologetically.
“Are you here for the magazines?”
Brill asked hopefully from somewhere behind Sam.
“I AM HERE FOR MARDNNN’S BOOKS ,”Truze said impatiently, brandishing the ropes. “TAKE ME TO HIM AT ONCE!”
Sam realized with a sinking heart that this must be the real auditor. Perhaps he could use the same ruse as he had before and divert this one as well.
“What the hell is this?” Mardnnn shouted from the inner office before Sam could offer any excuses to Truze. He’d delayed too long. With a lump the size of Texas in his throat, he waved the small alien to Mardnnn’s office.
As the door closed behind them Sam knew with absolute conviction that he was dead. Only the slowness of the Universe to recognize this important fact was keeping it from the awareness of the others. Surely the heavens would open and whatever merciless gods that the galactics worshipped would strike him down. In a way, he wished that were so. Anything would be better than facing the wrath of Mardnnn when he discovered how depleted his accounts had become.
Sam straightened his shoulders. Best that he come clean and admit all, hopefully shifting as much of the blame as he could onto Brill’s shoulders, to be sure. Perhaps he would be punished for his stupidity, but he would go with honor. He started to push open Mardnnn’s door when he heard an ungodly disturbance.
The outer office quickly filled to overflowing with tiny, cat-like aliens, all of whom were dressed in skin-tight black uniforms. Sidearms and whips dangled from their identical belts. There were too many of the diminutive creatures to fit inside, so the remainder stood in the hallway, just outside the door.
“Who are you?” Sam said as politely as he could. Mardnnn hadn’t mentioned the arrival of this feline gestapo.
“I am Djef,” one of them announced in a sibilant voice vaguely reminiscent of a cat’s purr. “I am Kittchikoostran speaker of alien tongues.” The speaker waved his tail at the crowd, “And this is my mate, Dorth.”
Sam examined the small furry speaker. It was quite catlike; its head barely coming as high as his waist. These Kittchikoostrans stood erect on their back legs, but their knees seemed to bend the wrong way, giving them a forward pitch when they walked. Djef, the speaker, held a staff in his right paw. Sam supposed that it was a badge of office. The staff was twice the height of the speaker and topped with a white cylinder touched here and there with spots of black, as if it had been in a fire.
“You are slightly early,” Sam temporized. “About two weeks, if my schedule is right.”
“Dorth and I gave the ship’s crew some incentive,” Djef said simply, and thumped the staff on the floor. “They were convinced to speed.” Had there been a hint of menace in that response, Sam wondered? Perhaps not. These creatures didn’t look that imposing. Perhaps Brill had overstated their character.
“There are only two of you?” Sam repeated as he looked over the crowd of aliens who filled the room. Behind the speaker were fifty or more similar creatures. Ah, Sam realized, about half of them, maybe more, were of a different color than the speaker. Yes, now that he looked more closely, he could see slight differences. He quickly counted heads and determined that there were thirty-two who were similar to the speaker, and twenty-two who were not. But, if there were two individuals, then where was the other speaker?
“Is there a speaker for Dorth, the other Kittchikoostran?” he asked casually. “Or is she a silent minority?” he joked.
“Hisssssssss!!” Djef and his cohort exclaimed.
Sam leaped back in fright as all of the little storm troopers drew their tiny whips in unison. Their movement was so coordinated that it looked as if they were all controlled by a single mind, which, Sam reflected, they were. He started to raise his hands over his head when the speaker lowered its staff toward him. A gout of flame erupted from the tip.
The sheet of flame missed Sam’s head by centimeters, but only because Brill had caught Sam in a diving leap, wrapped her tentacle about him, and carried him through the doorway.
“It is not polite to point out someone’s infirmities,” Brill screamed as she beat him on the head with her tentacle to put out the flames while hustling him down the stairs. Every little alien within reach struck at him with their whips as he raced past them.
Sam risked a glance backwards as they descended the stairs. “Did no one teach you any manners?” she yelled in his ear.
“Nobody ridicules my crippled mate!” screamed the speaker from behind them as it shot bolts of flame in their direction.
They reached the street scant moments before the pursuing, spitting, fur balls of fury erupted onto the sidewalk. Brill shoved Sam into the back of the first cab she saw and gave instructions to the slack-jawed and staring driver. “Get out of here if you value your life! We have to get this man some medical attention.” There were still a few smoldering embers on Sam’s clothing.