Chapter 31
JOHN GRIMES and Tamara Haverstock came to Boggarty. They were not received on that world as deities. At first they were treated with considerable coldness. The Tiralbin Post Office had contracted to deliver an important consignment of parcel mail by a certain date. The subcontractor had entered into a similar agreement. Neither had met the terms of the contract.
The Planetary High Commissioner was a reasonable man, however. He listened patiently to Grimes’ slightly edited story. He agreed that Grimes was entitled to plead Restraint of Princes and that neither Boggarty nor Tiralbin could successfully sue him for Breach of Contract. He maintained though, to Tamara’s great disgust, that the penalty clauses regarding late delivery applied insofar as she was concerned.
She said to Grimes when they were alone together, “You look after yourself, don’t you?”
“Somebody has to,” he told her smugly.
She said, “The way things are I may as well get my full money’s worth out of your precious contract. I can demand that you provide me with an escort until the mail is delivered.”
“All right,” he said.
The High Commissioner had provided them with a ground car and a driver, a stolid colonist who sat dourly in his seat and made no move to assist with the offloading from Little Sister. The sack of parcels was both heavy and awkward but Grimes dragged it out of the locker, to the airlock, and then struggled to lift it into the rear of the vehicle while Tamara muttered, “Careful, Grimes, careful . . . If anything is damaged you will be held responsible.”
They drove from the spaceport to the city, were taken to the lofty cylindrical tower that was the seat of planetary government. Again Grimes was obliged to go into his porterage act, carrying the sack from the car to the elevator, from the elevator to the High Commissioner’s office.
“Sir,” said Tamara to the portly men sitting behind the huge, gleaming desk, “please accept delivery of the mail. I have to report that the bag was tampered with by the Shaara and that one carton was opened and one can taken.”
“Captain Grimes has already informed me, Miss Haver-stock,” said the Commissioner. “He mentioned that, among other things, during our telephone conversation.”
“Sign here, please,” said Tamara, producing a pad of receipt forms. “I have already made the necessary endorsement”
“I am not the actual consignee, Madam. But Grigadil will make his mark. He should be here at any moment.”
“Grigadil?” asked Grimes curiously.
“Yes, Captain. The King Boggart. He instructed his people not to make any more wire sculptures for export until I did something to help him with his peculiarly personal problem. Ah, here he is now . . .”
A boggart shambled into the office.
The films that Grimes had viewed concerning Boggarty had not prepared him for the full repulsiveness of the indigenes. In addition to their horrendous appearance they—or, at least, this one did—stank, a rank, animal effluvium.
The being extended a clawed hand, pointed to the mail sack.
“Mine?”
‘“Yes, Grigadil,” said the High Commissioner. “And now if you will sign the lady’s paper . . .”
“No sign till know if work. All wives give me no peace for too long. Me afraid they find younger husband—but me not old . . .”
You look, thought Grimes, like some prehuman from the dawn of time who’s been aging steadily ever since . . .
Grigadil tore open the sack, pulled out a wrapped carton. His claws made short work of the outer coverings. He extracted a can. Grimes could read the gaudy label: VENUS STRAWBERRIES. Grigadil pulled the tab, lifted the now topless container to his wide, tusked mouth, swallowed noisily.
Tamara was looking down with an expression of horrified fascination on her face. Grimes wondered what was causing this and then he saw. The boggart was wearing only a filthy rag as a kilt and it was now no longer adequate to hide what was under it.
“Good,” grunted Grigadil. “Good. Me sign. Me go back to cave and show wives who boss.”
Wordlessly Tamara handed the creature the pad and the stylus, keeping as much distance as possible between him and herself. She glared at Grimes when he said cheerfully, “As we’ve already found out, it’s love that makes the world go round!”
She was not amused.
And this, Grimes realized without overmuch regret, was the ending of a beautiful friendship.