Mack Reynolds - Amazon Planet

“Get me out of these nardy ropes,” Teucer rasped. “How do I know what happened? This young cloddy must have got behind me and slugged me one. When I woke up, I was tied like this.”

“Where’s Zeke?”

“He’s gone to keep an appointment with Damon and some of the others. Listen—”

“Just a minute. Leaving you alone?” The other was about free.

Teucer came to his feet rubbing his wrists. He bent and rubbed his ankles. “Yes. Listen, I’ve got a lot of questions to ask you, but we’ve got to get out of here.”

“I’ll say we do. The Hippolyte is onto this place. Is there a back entrance?”

Teucer stared at him. “How?” he blurted.

“Scop. They put me on Scop and I slipped everything.”

Teucer groaned. “Come on. Yes, there’s a back way. Hurry, we’ve got to get somewhere we can talk.” He sped toward the rear of the house, evidently assuming Ronny was immediately behind.

But there was something about this Ronny Bronston didn’t like. He looked down at the unconscious boy. He bent over him and began to search his belt wallet, finding precious little except an hours card. He thought about it, and pocketed the plastic. The other’s name was Tanais, and he belonged to the Terpsichore genos . All of which told Ronny nothing. Wasn’t Terpsichore the goddess of song, or the dance or something?

There was a banging at the front door.

They’d come at last. Ronny came hurriedly erect. As he started for the door, he looked down at the boy. He shook his head. Even had there been reason, he wasn’t up to escaping burdened with the kid. And there was no reason.

He turned and hurried after Teucer, and even as he ran he realized that something had been wrong about Teucer. He had been more collected, less emotional and shrill than the night before. In view of the circumstances, it would have been more reasonable had it been the other way.

He was about to leave the patio garden through the exit which Teucer had taken when he heard the front door bang open. A voice yelled, “Hey! Wait? Holy Jumping Zen, what goes on here?”

It was a male voice.

Ronny came to a halt and turned. It was the burly Zeke, rumbling in, bear-like, a large handgun in one overgrown paw.

Zeke took him in, snorted, and disappeared from sight into the room where Teucer had been bound. Ronny returned, shooting a glance at the door to the street. Zeke had slammed it shut upon his entrance, and thrown a bar.

The Sons of Liberty leader was staring at the still unconscious boy and at the ropes which had once held Teucer.

“Zen,” he groaned. “The funker escaped.” He bent over the youngster. “Out cold!”

Ronny was in the doorway, his face in puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”

“When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago.” He shook his head. There was still nausea in his stomach and his muscles were like water, particularly after the exertion of the brief struggle. “Teucer was tied up.”

“Tied up, is right?” The funker is a traitor, a spy! What happened? What happened to Tanais, here?”

The effects of the Come-Along were evidently completely gone but the Scop was still on him. Ronny couldn’t have lied had he wished. He said, “The door was open. I came in to warn you. Teucer was tied up. The boy, here, jumped on my back. I knocked him out before I realized he was just a kid. Teucer told me some cock-and-bull story, evidently, and took off through the back.”

Zeke was on one knee at the side of Tanais, his gun at the half-ready, as though not knowing what to expect. He said, “Tanais came from Lybia a few days ago as an exchange student. This morning he contacted us. Teucer had told us that was where he was from and we accepted him. But we know Tanais is from Lybia, his father is top man in the organization there and when he didn’t recognize Teucer it was obvious we had a spy from the Hippolyte in our ranks. I went to check with Damon…”

But Ronny was shaking his head. “Teucer’s no spy from the Hippolyte.”

Zeke glared at him, coming to his feet. “What are you talking about? Of course he’s a spy.”

“No. I came to warn you, and we’d better get out of here quickly. The Hippolyte’s people had me put under Scop this morning. I spilled practically everything I knew about my mission, those who sent me, and the Sons of Liberty and their program.”

“What!”

Ronny held up a hand. “But the thing is, they had never heard of your organization before. So they could hardly have sent Teucer in as a spy.”

“They were lying!”

Ronny shook his head. “No they weren’t. They were flabbergasted when the drug brought the fact from me that you existed.”

Zeke was breathing deeply. “You gave them this address, you flat?”

Ronny said evenly, “I was under Scop. I think I still am, at least partially.”

Zeke’s small eyes narrowed further. “Oh, you are, eh? Listen, is the Octagon going to send help to us?”

“I dont know,” Ronny said. He tried to keep control of himself but his voice was slipping into the Zombie-inflection.

“Is it most likely they will?”

“Yes.”

“How soon?”

“Probably as soon as a report from me gets back.”

“How were you to transmit your report?”

“Through my Section G communicator.”

“Have you sent any report at all, thus far?”

“No.” Ronny Bronston could feel the blisters of cold sweat on his face as he tried to fight the truth serum, but it was useless. He could have tried rushing the other, but Zeke was armed and strong, and the Section G operative was still not fully recovered from his bout with his alcohol antidote.

“Why not?” Zeke pressed.

“My communicator was broken, when someone searched my room.”

Zeke thought about it for a moment, even as he muttered, “I got to get out of here.” He said, “When you report, who is it to?”

“Sid Jakes.”

Zeke’s face worked in thought, and his breathing came deeper. He nudged the boy at his feet with a toe and the other stirred. “Wake up, damn it!”

He looked back at Ronny again, something obviously suddenly occuring to him. “Holy Zen! they had you. How’d you get away?”

“I was in a hospital. They had taken me there to question me. After half an hour, they decided it was necessary to inform the Hippolyte of what they’d learned. So they left me under guard in a room. The guards stood outside. However, there was another door. A girl named Minythyia came through it.”

“Minythyia! Are you sure of that name?”

“Yes. She came out to the Schirra with the customs officials launch as one of the assistants. Later, she attempted to…select me as one of her husbands.”

“Minythyia!”

“Yes,” Ronny said, still zombie-like.

“All right, what happened?”

“She got me out of the hospital and drove me to the apartment of a friend. Then she left me there, under orders not to leave. She went to secure an alibi.”

“Do you know who Minythyia is?”

“She is one of the warriors who—”

“Do you know who else she is?”

“No.”

“She’s the drivel-happy daughter of the Hippolyte, you cloddy!”

There were sounds from the street. Zeke shot his eyes in that direction, then down at the boy who was now beginning to come to his feet.

“Get moving, Tanais. There’s a back way out.”

Tanais began stumbling toward the back. There was a pounding at the front door, as though of more than one fist.

Zeke took after the boy, his eyes looking over his shoulder, glowering desperately at the source of the noise.

Ronny began to follow.

Thick lips pulled back over the revolutionist’s stained teeth. The shooter came up. “You stay here, my stute friend. You stay here.”