Mack Reynolds - Amazon Planet

He cursed the fact that he had ever attended that Octagon reception. They should have known better. It was a tradition of Section G to avoid the public eye.

He heard a door open. Evidently, one of his guards returning, just to check. What was there to check? He couldn’t move a muscle and even had he been able to, he had been given orders to remain in this bed, and it was impossible to disobey.

He heard footsteps approaching him across the room, and frowned that they seemed to be stealthy.

A face looked down into his. A face that was grinning amusement.

She spoke in whisper. “Cutey, I hear you’ve got yourself into some sort of trouble.”

It was Minythyia. How had she ever gotten into the room?

She began fussing with his bonds, muttering, “How’d you get into this mess?”

“One of the Hippolyte’s council recognized me,” Ronny said.

She looked up and shot a puzzled glance at him, even as she worked, as though wondering at the Zombie-like inflection of his voice.

“You’re under Scop, aren’t you?”

Yes.”

“Oh, oh. I’m probably getting myself into trouble. Clete didn’t know what it was you had supposedly done. You got anything else in you? Or do you know?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Come-Along.”

“So! Well, that makes things easier. Get up out of that bed, Cutey.”

Her order countermanded the one the guard had given him. He arose and looked at her.

Minythyia said, “You look awful with that stuff in you. We’ve got to get out of here. Follow me.”

He followed her, noting that there were two doors to the room. He assumed that through one his guards had passed into the hospital corridor. In fact, he could indistinctly hear their voices.

He followed her through the other door. There was another hospital room, this one empty, on the other side. She hurried through this, he immediately behind. She grasped the knob of the door on the far side of the room and opened it. The room beyond was occupied by an elderly person, in bed.

Minythyia said apologetically, “Sorry to bother you again. That nardy door is still locked and this is the only way to get through.”

The patient in the bed murmered something indistinctly.

They passed through the door beyond of that room too and Ronny Bronston found himself, still following the Amazon warrior, in a corridor. It came to him for the first time that his rescuer, if that was her role, was for the first time he had seen her, not garbed in her usual regular uniform. In fact, her dress differed little from his own. A flowing, tunic-like affair that presented her admittedly curvaceous body to much better effect than had the military outfit which tended to suppress breast and hips.

They hurried along the deserted corridor which opened in turn to still another. It was larger and Minythyia slowed her pace, as must needs he as well since her order had been to follow me .

They passed various persons, undoubtedly hospital personnel and a few who were obviously either patients or visitors. Ronny and his rescuer passed unnoticed.

The left the building through a side entrance and again increased their pace. Minythyia hustled down a stone walk to a sports model hovercar parked in a forbidden zone, going by the signs imbedded in the street.

She vaulted over the side into the driver’s seat, snapping, “Get in! Artimis! Hurry!”

He climbed in on the passenger’s side, hardly in time to avoid being thrown aside by the vehicle’s surge forward. They were down an alley, out onto a monstrously large curving driveway, then out into a broad boulevard to be absorbed by the traffic.

Ronny noted that she was driving manually and realized why. Had she switched to the less dangerous auto, the traffic computers handling the car would have been able to pinpoint her. He didn’t know exactly what was happening, but if it was known, or came out, that Minythyia was his kidnapper from authority, then the hunt would be on in earnest.

She shot a grin over at him. “Clete didn’t know what sort of romp you tried to pull off. Only that you were marched away for questioning. Something really criminal?”

“No,” he said.

She chuckled abruptly. “It occurs to me that I’ll never have another chance like this. Listen, boy, do you think I’m attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Back on Earth. Would you have gone for someone like me?”

“Yes.

She laughed, a trifle wryly. “Would you…would you have wanted to…marry me?”

“No.”

“Ummmm. That puts me in my place.” She laughed again. “And how do you like our fair city?”

“I like it.”

They were hurrying down a main artery. Traffic was heavy, though not as badly so as many another capital city Ronny had been in in his time. As he had noted when seeking out Zeke and the Sons of Liberty, the public buildings, squares, fountains and monuments were unrivaled.

Minythyia seemed to be on something like a talking jag, brought about possibly by nervousness. Perhaps it was just coming home to her just how serious a matter her romp was.

She said, “See that building there? Apartment for bachelor girls. That’s where your pal Patricia O’Gara has been put up.” She chuckled. “She’s had to go back to school. She thought she knew all about Amazonia, but she didn’t.”

She pulled off onto a side street and cut speed somewhat through necessity. The little sporthover responded to her faintest touch on the joystick like a dream of delicacy.

She swung it hard to the right again and dropped her brake lever.

“Here we are!” she chuckled. “Come on, boy.”

She vaulted from the car, bustled around to his side as though to open the door for him, but by the time she had arrived he was standing on the walk. She led the way toward a large, heavy wooden door, beautifully carved. It opened before her and they hurried through.

“We’re on the third floor,” she said. “No elevator. Elevators are masculine. Exercise is good for you. Come on, Cutey.”

They ascended the marble stairs.

At the top, she utilized a key and they passed into a moderately large apartment. Ronny looked around. It was surprisingly well done, the taste excellent. For once, the decorative motif had nothing to do with Amazons or Greeks. The murals and paintings were based on nature studies. The main room, in which they stood, was large and comfortably done with chairs, coffee tables and couches. There was what must be a small bar at one end of the room. It looked to Ronny Bronston considerably more like a bachelor’s apartment than the one that had been assigned to him in the sanctuary.

He stood in the middle of the room, waiting further instructions. Without instructions, he knew, he was free to act on his own, however, he had little doubt but that Minythyia was going to keep him well in hand so long as the Come-Along and Scop controlled him.

She approached him now, grinning mockingly. “So,” she said. “At long last. I don’t know what there is about you, Cutey, possibly the romantic aspects of you being from over-space.”

Her smile turned more mocking still and she put her right hand on his shoulder.

“I thee take,” she said softly.

Even under the influence of the powerful drugs, there must have been something in his eyes. Minythyia laughed at him. But in the laughter there was a wry element.

“Of course,” she told him, “It’s not really finalized until we go before Artimis during the summer solstice, with all the others, to gain her blessing. But unless you wish to throw yourself on the mercies of some other warrior—if she’ll take you—you’re mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish to get in touch with some other warrior?”