Part 4

The red-faced planter laughed shortly, said: "No sir." He had regained his composure. "No sir, you won't kill me. You'd be throwing away your only chance to stay alive. The force screen stays up."

"That's what I thought you'd say." Cosmo slipped the dart gun in his pocket. His eyes became hard green stones. "What about the Ormoo's feeding ground? Why do you want to know where they eat?"

"That's my secret." A sullen note crept into Bemmelman's manner.

"You don't want me to mess you up, do you, Bemmelman?" Cosmo asked softly.

The planter flinched, but didn't answer.

Cosmo knocked him sprawling against the wall. He heard Mia gasp. He said evenly: "What about the Ormoo?"

Bemmelman tasted the blood in his mouth, said: "You'll never leave here alive, Cosmo. You won't be able to carry tales.... Now wait a moment! There's a plant the birds eat that contains a drug...." He paused.

Cosmo's eyes narrowed. He had the impression that the planter was listening, waiting for something to happen. He said, "Go ahead."

"The drug accelerates maturity. It acts directly through the glands."

"How did you hit on the discovery?" A feeling of revulsion made Cosmo's hands tremble, but his features were inscrutable.

Bemmelman chuckled amiably. "This information won't do you a bit of good," he said. "No sir, not a bit."

"Go ahead."

Bemmelman shrugged. "Well sir, I've been curious about how much longer it takes for an Ormoo in captivity to mature than the wild bird. The wild Ormoo, you know, reaches its full growth in less than a year. That's an amazing phenomenon when you consider its size. Yes sir...." He paused again, mouth open, then hastily went on: "Yes sir. I wondered if it wasn't the wild birds' diet. I sent a man into the Cloud Mountains to locate an Ormoo. He found your bird's nest."

Cosmo's green eyes were opaque. Revulsion for the slave breeder welled in his throat.

* * * * *

Bemmelman's manner was derisive. He rubbed his nose, said: "One day my man found a shrub in the nest. He sent it to me on the chance that it might be what I was looking for. It was. The leaves contain a drug, which, when injected into the bloodstream, accelerates maturity at an unbelievable rate." His lids drew down. "I injected it into one of the slave children in minute doses every twenty days. The child reached adolescence in eighteen months. In two years' time, she was full grown."

"You can breed slaves like guinea pigs now, eh Bemmelman?" Cosmo's voice was low. "And in two years' time have them ready for the market."

Bemmelman said, "Certainly," and paused.

"What are you listening for?" Cosmo asked suddenly.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." His little eyes darted about the room. "Unfortunately," he went on hurriedly, "I used up all the drug on the experiment, and I haven't been able to locate any more of the plants. No sir, we've scoured the Cloud Mountains. They're difficult to explore. Infra red rays help some, but not much."

"Who's the spy you planted among my men?" Cosmo interrupted in a cold voice.

Bemmelman shut his mouth with a snap.

"Who is he? Tell me, Bemmelman, or by heavens, I'll work you over until your own mother couldn't recognize you."

Still the planter didn't reply.

Cosmo hit him in the mouth. The planter's head struck the wall. He slid down to the floor, said groggily: "It doesn't matter. No sir. I won't need him any more. He's a Martian. His name's Natal."

Cosmo wasn't surprised. They'd found the Martian wandering apparently lost in the mountains. A sly fellow, always curious, always prying.

Cosmo turned to the telecast. He felt Mia's horrified eyes on him; the child-like stare of the Blue Venus. He switched on the telecast, signaled his headquarters in the Cloud Mountains. At the third attempt, he got through.

To his surprise, the inscrutable mien of the Mercurian runaway flashed on the visoscreen. His amber eyes twinkled, a smile split his Buddha-like face, and he bowed three times until Cosmo could only see the top of his head.

"I see you got through all right," said Cosmo dryly. A faint hiss seemed to be coming through the audio. He tried to tune it out, but the hiss persisted.

"Yes," said the Mercurian. "Delightful fellows. But blood-thirsty. You should hear the tales they've been telling." He shuddered.

"I've heard them," Cosmo interrupted. "Often. Where's Big Unse?"

"Playing truk with the men. I'm on duty at the telecast."

Cosmo frowned. The hissing noise was louder. He said: "I haven't time for you to call him. I'm at the Bemmelman plantation. I'm holding Bemmelman himself as a hostage. Tell Big Unse to bring the Ormoo. You follow in the surface plane with the men. Don't land. Hang in the clouds above the plantation until I whistle for the Ormoo. Oh yes. Be sure that Natal, the Martian, comes along. Got it?"

"Yes."

Cosmo flipped off the telecast, frowned. The hissing had not stopped. There was the faintest smell of roses in the air. He felt suddenly dizzy. Mia gave a small cry and crumpled to the floor.

"Paralysis gas!" he thought and wheeled toward Bemmelman, almost lost his balance as he did so.

The planter's head had dropped on his chest. He raised it groggily, leered with triumph at Cosmo. "Concealed tubes," he muttered. "Every room."

Cosmo swayed. He fumbled at his pocket. His hand emerged with the dart gun. He strained to elevate the gun, send a poisoned needle into the slave breeder. His muscles refused to obey him. The gun sagged. His knees sagged. Then slowly, he toppled sideways.

VII

Cosmo opened his eyes in the office with the glassite desk. He sat up. Chains rattled. He realized with chagrin that he was manacled hand and foot.

Bemmelman was on the sofa. A serf, directed by the slave girl, Llana, was working over him. Mia and the Blue Venus were stretched out on the floor beside him, still unconscious. Both of them were manacled. Two Blue giants watched incuriously.

In a moment, Bemmelman stirred. He sat up, swung his feet to the floor. His eyes lit on Cosmo. With a grunt he crossed the room, kicked the manacled man in the ribs.

Cosmo's face hardened, but he didn't say anything.

The planter swung on his servitors, barked: "Get out!" They left the room, all except Llana. He turned back to Cosmo, said: "I'm through playing around with you. Yes sir. Where's the Ormoo's feeding ground?"

Cosmo said nothing.

Bemmelman's face went purple. He kicked Cosmo viciously in the ribs. "Where's the feeding ground? Where is it? Where is it?"

Mia regained consciousness, sat up. She stared wide-eyed at the berserk planter.

Bemmelman glanced at her, paused. He rubbed his nose, a fiendish light shining in his pig-like eyes. He said in a sudden altered tone: "I'm still willing to bargain, Cosmo."

"What do you mean?"

"Either you reveal the location of the feeding grounds, or I hand Miss MacIver over to the Dawn Men. Yes sir, I'm anxious to repeat that experiment." He pointed to the Blue Venus who was just coming out from under the effects of the gas.

Cosmo's features were inscrutable. He asked: "What happens to Miss MacIver if I give you that information?"

"I'll release her in Venusport with her fare back to Earth. I'm holding personal notes on the MacIver plantation anyway."

"Notes?" echoed Mia blankly. "Father never mentioned any notes. I--I don't believe it!"

A veil dropped before Bemmelman's eyes. "I haven't told you before. I didn't like to so soon after your father's death. But I lent him considerable money. Yes sir, considerable."

Cosmo laughed without humor. "Up to your old tricks, eh Bemmelman?"

"What d'you mean?" The red-faced planter looked faintly rattled. He took a threatening step.

"You kick me again," said Cosmo, "and I'll kill you if I have to bite you to death."

Mia giggled nervously.

"Well?" said Bemmelman. "That's my proposition. Take it or leave it."

"What about me?" asked Cosmo.

"You're worth fifty thousand monad on the hoof, Cosmo. Yes sir. I'm going to turn you and your men over to the Security Patrol."

"Suppose I talk?"

"Talk?" Bemmelman threw back his head and roared. "Talk d'you say? Who'll believe anything the Renegade says?"

"A nice point," Cosmo conceded dryly. "But what about Mia?"

"Miss MacIver? What can she tell? Aren't you forgetting, Cosmo, that I rescued her from you. Yes sir. What's more, I've captured you, and I'm turning you over to the officials." His eyes twinkled. "Who's she going to tell, anyway?"

Cosmo's lean visage was unreadable. So that, he thought, was the line Bemmelman planned to take. Only Mia MacIver would never be released. He wondered if the planter really considered him such a fool. He said: "You don't give me much choice," and twisted to his feet. He hobbled to the desk, dropped awkwardly into the chair. "Give me pen and paper."

Bemmelman produced writing material, spread them before him.

"Here's the Cloud Mountains." Hindered by the manacles, Cosmo sketched a chain of hills, indicated north with a crude compass. He placed a dot halfway into the mountains, then laid off a line from the dot running diagonally into the most rugged sector. He shoved the paper across to Bemmelman. "The first dot's the Ormoo's nest. You know where it is?"

Bemmelman nodded, wrote "Ormoo's nest" on the map.

Cosmo closed his eyes, sighed faintly. "The mountains are impassable except by plane, and then its all blind flying. Rise to an altitude of four thousand meters. You'll clear any peaks that way. Starting at the Ormoo's nest, fly due North, Northwest for a distance of ninety-three kilometers." He paused.

* * * * *

Only the scrape of Bemmelman's pen could be heard as the planter wrote the directions on the bottom of the map.

"Drop straight into the valley," Cosmo went on as the pen scratching ceased. "It's narrow, a canyon. The floor of the valley is at an altitude of one thousand, seven hundred meters, so you'll be in clouds all the time. It's tricky navigating."

Bemmelman stopped writing, waved the paper dry. Then he folded it, put it away in the wall safe, behind the sliding panel. "This had better be right," he said ominously.

Cosmo, opening his eyes, said: "It's right. I've been there a dozen times. The first time the bird carried me there accidentally before he was well trained."

"Good." Bemmelman glanced at his watch. "Now Cosmo, we'll lay a trap for those men of yours. Yes sir. They should be along any minute. How many have you?"

"Nine." Again Cosmo emitted a faint sigh. "What do you want me to do?" He realized that Mia and Llana both were staring at him with distaste. Only the Blue Venus seemed untouched.

"You can't betray your men!" Mia burst out.

Cosmo's face hardened. He said, "Can you suggest a better way?"

"You're a sensible man, Cosmo, a sensible man." The planter rubbed his hands together triumphantly. He snapped on the intercommunicating telecast on the glassite desk, said into it: "Rabaul!"

"Right," came the voice from the audio.

"That was good work with the gas tubes, Rabaul."

"You can thank Llana," came the voice of the overseer from the audio. Cosmo recognized the sibilant accent of a Martian. "She gave the alarm."

Bemmelman grunted. "Take twenty Jovians," he said, "and a dozen serfs. Arm the serfs with Ray Rifles. Hide them about the roof. The Renegade's men will try to land shortly and I'd like to prepare a welcome for 'em."

"Right," came Rabaul's voice.

The planter switched off the telecast. He looked at Cosmo, smiled, said: "Whistle 'em down, Cosmo, that's all. My Jovians will take care of the rest."

"It's daylight," said the Blue Venus with an air of childish surprise. She was looking out the windows.

Cosmo was aware of the heat, all at once. It curled about him like a steaming towel. He looked at Mia. There were circles under her eyes. Her hair was tangled, her tunic in threads. "Poor kid," he said.

Bemmelman glanced at his watch. "Your men should be up in the clouds now, waiting? Eh, Cosmo?"

Cosmo said: "They'll be up there."

"We'll give them another hour," said Bemmelman, "to be on the safe side." He rang for a servant, ordered breakfast served in the office.

They picked at their food listlessly when it arrived. Bemmelman kept glancing at his watch. At length, he stood up, turned to the slave girl. "Call the Security Patrol, Llana."

Cosmo frowned, but said nothing.

"What should I tell them?" asked Llana snapping on the telecast.

"Get hold of the Commissioner. Tell him we've caught the Renegade." He chuckled amiably. "That should make him sit up. Yes sir. Tell him to get right out here, though, because the Renegade's men are trying to rescue him."

A girl's features, horsefaced, blonde, formed on the screen. "Venusport Security Patrol," she said.

"The Commissioner," said Llana. "This is the Bemmelman plantation calling."

The screen blanked out as the horsefaced girl switched to the Commissioner's office. In a moment, the fat face and shoulders of the Commissioner blotted out half the screen. His eyes were puffy. His jowls sagged. He looked as if he were suffering from a hangover.

"Well?" he asked.

"We've captured the Renegade."

"What?" His eyes snapped open.

"We've got the Renegade here at the plantation. But hurry! His men are trying to rescue him. Please hurry!"

"I'm on my way!"

The Commissioner leaped out of vision forgetting to shut off the telecast. They could hear his bull-like voice roaring orders. Llana snapped off the machine, turned indifferently to the windows.

Bemmelman chuckled, said, "Keep your eyes on Miss MacIver, Llana. Don't let Sofi go galavanting around either." He took the chains off Cosmo's ankles, but left his hands manacled. Next he went to his desk, took out a dart gun. He said, "Come along," to Cosmo and led the way into the corridor.

* * * * *

They didn't go through the trap this time, but up in the tower where a door gave directly onto the flat roof. Cosmo saw that the chamber just inside the door was jammed with naked blue giants and Venusian serfs.

A tall, black eyed Martian, foppishly dressed in spite of the heat came to meet them. He wrinkled his nose at the stale odor of sweat already thick in the room, picked his way through the men.

"I didn't deploy them on the roof," he said in the sibilant accent of the Red Planet, "because there's no cover. They'd be spotted at once. They can rush the Renegade's men through the door." He examined Cosmo curiously.

Bemmelman rubbed his hands together, said: "That's right, Rabaul. Yes sir, I'm glad you thought of that." He glanced through the door at the low swirling cloud mass, then turned back to Cosmo. "Get out on the roof. Whistle 'em down. No tricks, now."

Cosmo stepped through the door into the hot, dim daylight. He glanced aloft, put two fingers in his mouth, whistled loudly. He had trouble managing the cuffs, but he blew again and again.

His eyes swept the heavens, but no sign of bird or plane appeared through the veiling clouds.

"What's wrong?" called Bemmelman in a low nervous voice.

Cosmo shook his head. He put his fingers back in his mouth, whistled until he was red in the face. He might as well have whistled for a wind.

Bemmelman stamped out of the tower. He scoured the low roof of clouds, an ominous glitter in his pig-like eyes.

"Where are they?"

"You know as much about it as I do." Cosmo shrugged. "They're not there or they'd come down."

"If you're tricking me...."

"How the hell would I be tricking you?" Cosmo asked irritably. "You heard me give my orders over the telecast. They're not there, that's all. And I'm damn glad they're not!"

The planter continued to stare at him suspiciously. Cosmo could feel his plan hanging precariously in the balance, then Bemmelman said: "It doesn't matter, I suppose. They can be rounded up later. The Security Patrol will be here any moment." He shoved Cosmo ahead of him into the tower.

Cosmo let his breath escape evenly. He could feel little beads of sweat on his forehead.

The red-faced planter slipped the dart gun out of his pocket. "Rabaul," he ordered grumpily; "Get the men back to their quarters."

The Martian elevated his eyebrows, but Bemmelman vouchsafed no explanation. The planter watched his overseer herd the men down the stair, then turned to Cosmo as the last of the Jovians were disappearing. The dart gun dangled in his fist at his side. His eyes were mean.

"Get a move on," he said sharply.

"All right," said Cosmo. He was right beside the planter.

In that instant Bemmelman sensed danger. His eyes widened. He tried to whip up the dart gun. Then Cosmo's manacles smashed the planter along side the head.

It was a terrible blow. The red-faced slave breeder caved to the floor as if his bones had turned to jelly. For a moment, Cosmo thought he'd killed him. He stooped, found Bemmelman's pulse. It was weak but steady. Grim-lipped, he leaped back to the roof.

Cursing his manacles, Cosmo fumbled a whistle from his pocket. He wet his lips, blew. As the time he'd summoned the Ormoo to carry off Mia, the high shrill note was inaudible to human ears.

Bemmelman, Cosmo thought grimly, had been a bit too clever. The planter had heard him say whistle over the telecast. It hadn't occurred to him that the Ormoo might be trained only to notes in the higher register.

He glanced aloft. The cloud blanket began to boil suddenly. Then the Ormoo plummeted soundlessly to the roof. Big Unse, the blue star of the Fozoql caste tattooed on his yellow forehead, his face split by a grin, leaped silently from its back.

The bird stretched out its beak, rubbed it against Cosmo's leg.

"Quick!" said Big Unse. "On to the bird. We'll be spotted in a minute."

Cosmo shook his head, watching a surface plane nose cautiously down from the clouds. "There's a girl below stairs."

Big Unse scowled in disgust. "Why," he asked practically, "do you have to have that particular one?"

The surface plane came to rest lightly beside the Ormoo. The door was flung open and eight men piled out, weapons in their hands. There was no word spoken. Five were swarthy Venusian serfs. There was the yellow eyed Mercurian, bland, smiling unarmed. There was Natal, the traitorous Martian, and the blue Jovian.

"We're going to get a girl," said Big Unse.

Cosmo slapped the Ormoo on the side. It launched itself silently into the air. "The plane won't be noticed," he said; "but that bird would catch the eye of a dead man." He nodded toward the tower. Like wolves they followed him silently inside.

"The manacles." Cosmo's voice was low as he held out his arms. "Bemmelman has the key."

Big Unse dropped beside the unconscious planter. He dug out the key, unlocked Cosmo's wrists.

"Put them on Bemmelman," said Cosmo. As soon as the planter was securely cuffed, he said, "pick him up. Bring him along."

* * * * *

They crept down the stairs, fanned out like hunting dogs. Without appearing to do so, Cosmo kept Natal, the spy, under observation. They reached the corridor, started for the office. A serf came out of a bisecting passage. He saw them, drew back, tried to yell. Two of the Venusians were on him like tigers. They clamped a hand over his mouth, held him so that he couldn't wriggle.

Cosmo said, "Bring him along too."

Big Unse put his face down close to the serf's, said, "Don't cry out, or by the star on my forehead, I'll skin you alive."

The serf's eyes rolled. He nodded vigorously trying to convey his absolute willingness to cooperate.

There was a faint amused gleam in Cosmo's eyes. He paused before the office, then slid the panel back.

Mia and the Blue Venus, still manacled, stumbled to their feet. Llana, the slave woman jerked around from the windows, her jaw dropping. Then she bit her lip, glanced at the button on the glassite desk.

"Stay away from the desk, Llana," Cosmo admonished her. He stood aside, allowed his men to file into the office. They deposited Bemmelman on the sofa. Cosmo saw that Natal was safely inside, shut the door. At his nod, Big Unse unlocked both the girls.

Mia said: "But ... but...." Then a look of fright wiped away the relief on her wide gray eyes. "The Security Patrol! Cosmo, they'll be here any moment! Please Cosmo, don't let them catch you!"

The buzzer on the telecast began to sound.

"It's too late." Cosmo smiled grimly. "I've a hunch that's the Security Patrol now." He turned to the Terran slave girl, said: "Llana, string along with me, and I'll promise that both you and your daughter are provided with passage to Earth."

The telecast continued to buzz impatiently.

"My daughter!" The slave girl clapped her hand to her mouth. "You know."

"I've suspected," he corrected her. "There's a resemblance. So Sofi really is your daughter."

Mia looked from the Blue Venus to Llana in bewilderment. There didn't seem to be over five years difference in their ages. "It's ... it's impossible!" she blurted out.

The Blue Venus smiled enigmatically.

Cosmo said: "I thought, Llana, that Sofi was the hold Bemmelman had over you."

At mention of the planter's name Llana stiffened. "He'll kill Sofi if I betray him!"

Cosmo shook his head.

"You haven't any evidence against him," she insisted. "Even if you had, they wouldn't believe the Renegade."

"Exactly," said Cosmo. "Answer the telecast, Llana."

Her face set. She went to the audio, switched it on.

"The Security Patrol is here," came Rabaul's voice. "What shall I do with them?"

Llana glanced deadfaced at Cosmo, who said in an undertone: "Tell him to send the Commissioner here. Have his men served with refreshments."

She repeated the orders tonelessly into the telecast.

"Right," said Rabaul. The instrument went dead.

Cosmo went behind the glassite desk, sat down. He leveled his dart gun straight at Natal, the Martian.

"Natal," he said in a cold manner. "Bemmelman sold you down the river. He told me you were his spy."

The Martian blanched, but his black eyes were hard as marbles. "I should have guessed the pig would betray me."

"Get his gun, Big Unse," said Cosmo.

The Fozoql catfooted behind the Martian, relieved him of his weapon.

"Follow my lead," said Cosmo to Natal, concealing the dart gun up his sleeve. "Because, so help me, if you don't, you're a dead Martian."

Natal nodded, stiff faced but willing.

Bemmelman groaned, sat up. He regarded the scene in disbelief. Then his little pig eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything and Cosmo ignored him.

There was a knock on the door.

"That's the Commissioner," said Cosmo. "Let him in, Big Unse."

Mia looked wretched, frightened. "No," she said and bit her lip to stifle the rest of the protest.

Big Unse slid back the panel.

The fat commissioner waddled inside. He was even fatter than he appeared over the visoscreen. He bulged in his clothes like a sausage.

"Well, Hal," he began in a hearty voice, "you lucky dog. The fifty thou...." The words stuck in his throat. He stared at the hard faced green eyed man behind the desk, at Bemmelman in irons. He revolved slowly, taking in the silent men about the walls, the three girls. "Wh-what's this?" He sputtered, but there was a sick, frightened look in his eyes. "Where's the Renegade?"

"There he is, Commissioner," replied Cosmo dryly. "All done up in irons." He pointed at Bemmelman lying manacled on the sofa.

VIII

Bemmelman was the first to recover his voice. His neck swelled. He laughed hoarsely. "Nobody's fool enough to believe I'm the Renegade, Cosmo."

"You're crazy, young man," the Commissioner burst out as he caught his breath. "If this is a joke, it's in remarkably poor taste."

"It's no joke." Cosmo's eyes hardened.

"You lying rogue," Bemmelman shouted. "This has gone far enough. There's your Renegade, Commissioner."

"Keep him quiet, Big Unse," said Cosmo softly, "until I finish. He can talk his head off then."

Big Unse doubled his fist, shook it in Bemmelman's face. The planter subsided, but a cunning gleam winked in his little brown eyes.