"No use," Colonel Wince, the Military Attache, stated solemnly. "Already done it. Boxed the compa.s.s. Nothing. Bare rock, slugs, drifted dust, worms, ravines, superslugs. Range of worn-down mountains in the distance. Filthy great clouds, dust up the kazoo-"

"Now, now, no defeatism. Colonel." Magnan wagged a finger. "We're just not looking in the right places. Thinking caps, everyone! Where haven't we looked?"

"Up the kazoo, I say," The Colonel muttered. "Give a man an enemy he can come to grips with, not this confounded smog bank inhabited by invertebrate appet.i.tes."

"With the exception of His Excellency the Amba.s.sador, all personnel seem to be present or accounted for," Retief said. "What makes you think the wildlife is carnivorous?"

"Why, the instant they sight us, they come charging down, figurative jaws agape," Thrashwelt said indignantly.

"I didn't see any eyes," Retief said. "How do they sight us?"

"Suppose we leave the zoological musings until later, Retief," Magnan said sharply. "At the moment the problem is how to disinsinuate ourselves from this dismal fiasco without further abrasions to hides, egos, and effectiveness reports. Now, I propose that we make one more try via telelink, hoping for a break in the weather-" He broke off as the dim light filtering around the curve of the grotto faded suddenly to near total darkness in which the folding emergency chandelier suspended from a convenient stalact.i.te shed a wan glow on anxious faces.

"What in the world-?"

"It's them," Thrashwelt gibbered, leaping up. "They're making another try!"

"Into the back room, men!" Colonel Wince shouted. "Man the barricades!"

"Here-what's going on?" Magnan yelped.

"Every so often one of those great horrid monsters comes poking and probing in here," a gra.s.shoppery little clerk said breathlessly. "They squoosh themselves out thin and come groping in the dark, feeling for victims!" He dashed away, scrambling through the narrow opening into the next cavern.

Looking in the direction from which the attack was expected, Retief saw a bulge of darkness intrude into the chamber; a foot-thick finger patted the walls and floor like a hand feeling inside a pocket.

"Come along, Retief," Magnan cried. "Do you want to be crushed to mincemeat?"

"It seems to be feeling its way rather delicately," Retief pointed out. "As if it was being careful not to break anything."

"Maybe it just doesn't like pate," Magnan croaked, backing away. "Retief-look out!"

As the Charge shouted his warning, the leathery probe suddenly elongated, thinned, shot out to within a foot of Retief's knee.

"Easy Mr. Magnan," he called, standing fast. "The suit will take plenty of strain."

Gingerly, the pseudopod advanced, hovered, then, with a soft smacking sound, plastered itself against Retief's shin.

"At last, a contact!" a mellow voice boomed inside Retief's brain. "We were beginning to think you fellows didn't want to talk!"

6.

"It seems to be some sort of telepathic inductance," Retief said. "He has to make physical contact to transmit."

"Precisely," the soundless voice agreed. "By the way, my name is Sloonge, Minister of Internal Affairs to His Supreme Fulguration. Ever since the arrival of Amba.s.sador Wrothwax, His Supremacy has been anxious to meet the remainder of the Mission."

Retief pa.s.sed the message along.

"Then Wrothwax reached him, after all," Magnan blurted.

"Indeed, yes," Sloonge confirmed. "He was perceptive enough to lie down when the others departed so precipitously. He wriggled a bit when I greeted him, but as soon as he completed his ceremonial arrival song I was able to convey His Supremacy's invitation. At least I a.s.sume it was a ceremonial arrival song: a series of strident yelps in the audible range... .''

"We diplomats frequently burst into yelps on emotional occasions," Retief a.s.sured the alien. "I take it, after the ceremonies His Excellency went along to meet His Supremacy?"

"Quite so. I hope you'll also favor him with a visit...?"

"Retief-what's going on?" Magnan demanded. "Why is it fingering your knee?"

"It seems Wrothwax fell down and perforce enjoyed a nice chat with Minister Sloonge here, who conducted him to an audience with his boss. We're invited to join the party."

"D-do you suppose it's safe?"

"It's what we came for."

"True," Magnan conceded. "But Retief-do you suppose His Supremacy is of the same species as this, er, Megadeosseomolluscoid?"

"I heard, I heard," Sloonge transmitted a chuckle-equivalent. "His Supremacy, a superslug? That's quite amusing, actually. His Supremacy will enjoy the j.a.pe. And now, shall we be going?"

"Very well. Just a moment while I summon my staff." Magnan went to the rear of the cave and halooed. The response was a strident "Shhhh!"

"You'll tip off our hideaway!" Thrashwelt's voice added.

"You presume to shush your immediate supervisor?" Magnan said sharply. "Come out at once and join my retinue. We're paying a call on His Supremacy."

"Sorry, sir. My job description doesn't say a thing about exotic forms of suicide."

"What's this?" Magnan choked. "Mutiny? Cowardice in the social arena?"

"Concern for Corps property," Thrashwelt corrected. "I wouldn't want to lose a valuable environmental suit containing an expensively trained bureaucrat, namely myself."

"Very well," Magnan said coolly, "I suggest you while away the time until your arrest in composing a letter of resignation."

"Better composing than decomposing," Thrashwelt said tartly.

"Come, Retief," Magnan sniffed. "Since you were the only one cool-headed enough to join me in my decision to out-face the monster, we'll carry on unaided."

With their helmets in place and servos creaking, they followed the giant courtier out into the howling gale.

7.

"Nothing like a bracing stroll in the open air to make one appreciate a little shelter," Sloonge commented as the little party slogged ahead, the two diplomats sheltered in the lee of their guide, who slithered along beside them like a bus molded in gray Jell-O. Communication was maintained via a pair of subway-strap-shaped extrusions which the Terrans gripped.

"Curious," Magnan said, bucking the headwind, "I see no signs whatever of civilization: no roads, no fences, no structures of any sort."

"Oh, erecting anything out here on the tundra would be a waste of time," Sloonge commented. "This is just a pleasant zephyr, of course; but when the wind starts to blow in earnest, it's a different matter."