Dyann had already unlimbered the expropriated rifle. She aimed it at his midriff. "Better not," she warned him. He froze.
"What . . . you . . . what are you doing here?" stammered the political officer.
"Lookin for Ray Tallantyre," she answered. "Could you tell me vere he is?"
"Guards!" Roshevsky-Feldkamp bellowed fearlessly. "Help!"
Dyann made a leap across the room, seized him by the neck, and hammered his forehead against the desk. With her right hand she kept the second Jovian covered. "I asked you vere is Ray Tallantyre," she reminded him.
"I am glad you came," Urushkidan told her. "Shall we leabe tis uncibilized place?" Two soldiers appeared in the doorway. "Perhaps not."
Dyann swung her rifle around. She was a trifle slow. Both newcomers already had weapons unlimbered, and opened fire. She dropped behind the desk. Twin streams of slugs pierced its mass, seeking her. She took it by the legs and heaved. It arced high over the floor and landed on the soldiers in a burst of drawers, papers, penstyls, and books. They went down beneath it and stayed there, stunned.
The secret police officer had taken advantage of the distraction to snatch forth his sidearm. He trained it on Dyann as she rose. Urushkidan snaked forth a tentacle and pulled him off his feet. Dyann paused to knock Roshevsky-Feldkamp unconscious before she closed fingers around the other man's Adam's apple. "Vere you not listenin?" she growled. "Vere is Ray Tallantyre?"
"Come, no delay, prudence requires we get out of here," urged the Martian.
Perforce, Dyann agreed. She hadn't really intended to get into a brawl. Things had just sort of happened. "Vat's a safe vay to go?" she inquired.
"Tis way. I'be been shown around. Follow me." Urushkidan paused to relieve both officers of their pistols. He carried one in either hand, gingerly, as if he feared they might explode. Dyann frogmarched the political policeman out into the hall after him. Shouts of alarm rang through it, coming nearer; she heard the thud of military boots.
"Hurry," Urushkidan gasped. "Shalmuannasar, we habe te entire Jobian Confederacy after us!" Since he could not move as fast as a human or Centaurian, Dyann expedited matters by picking him up and draping him over her prisoner's head.
They rounded a corner and clattered down several flights of stairs to a steel door marked HANGAR. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. It wasn't locked. Passing through, they found themselves in a cavernous enclosure where several small spacecraft rested on mobile cradles. Mechanics stared at the trio.
"Tese are bessels for scientific use around te surface," Urushkidan explained. "We want one."
A superintendent hurried up, obviously puzzled but afraid to comment. "You heard vat ve vant," Dyann whispered, and squeezed her captive at the shoulder, quite gently, only enough to make bones creak.
"Yes," the officer gasped through the tentacles that curtained his face. "Practice maneuvers. We ... we have immediate requirement of a fully-equipped craft. Mission confidential and —ow-w-w!—urgent."
"Yes, sir," responded a lifetime's training in blind obedience. However, the crew was a little less efficient than usual. They kept stealing looks.
As a teardrop-shaped boat trundled forth, Dyann held most of her attention on the door through which she had entered. Pursuit might reopen it at any instant. Surely by now Roshevsky-Feldkamp and the soldiers had been found. It shouldn't take somebody long to think of the possibility that her group had fled hither.
"I'll start the warmup, sir," the head mechanic said.
"No, don't bother, ve'll take her straight out," Dyann replied.
Aghast, he protested, "Madame, you don't understand. That'll cause carbon deposits in the tubes. You'll risk engine failure, a crash—"
"You find that an acceptable risk," Dyann told the secret policeman.
"Yes, of course I do," he choked. "The .. . the Leader tells us no hazard is too great for the cause."
Dyann propelled him ahead of her through the airlock. In the control cabin, she pushed him into the pilot's recoil chair, which she recognized from her travels around Earth. "I hope you can fly vun of these," she said.
"I hope so too," added Urushkidan. He slithered off the Jovian, secured the airlock, and knitted himself to a passenger seat.
"Ve are goin to find Ray Tallantyre," Dyann instructed the man. Part of her thought that she was beginning to sound obsessive. Yet, given the witch's brew of events in which she had somehow submerged herself, it was as reasonable a plan of action as any. Ray's shrewdness and sophistication might lend her the vital extra help, when Ormun was being left behind. In fact, this appeared to have been Ormun's intention.
"What do you mean?" the officer asked. He seemed a trifle disconcerted and confused.
"Ray Tallantyre, the Earthman that vas arrested off the Yovian Qveen" Dyann said with what she congratulated herself was exemplary patience. "You in your service ought to know vere he is kept. Vould some blows refresh your memory?"
"Camp Muellenhoff, you savage!" he got out. "North of the city. You'll never succeed. You'll kill us all."
Dyann smiled. "Then ve vill feast forever vith the gods, in the Hall of Skulls," she comforted him. "Von't that be nice?"
The cradle got into motion, rumbling toward the hangar airlock. Up a long ramp . . . into the chamber . . . darkness outside, as valves closed . . . hollow noise of pumps, withdrawing air. . . . Urushkidan relit his pipe with shaky tendrils. Dyann whistled tunelessly between her teeth.
"I am not so sure we are wise," the Martian said. "Tis bessel cannot carry us away from te Jobian System, or eben to anoter satellite of te planet."
"No, you are not wise," the political officer agreed eagerly.
"Hindsight vill show," Dyann responded. "Meanvile, you vould be most unvise not to pilot like I tell you."
The outer valve opened. The cradle rolled out onto the field. Behind that flat expanse, the dome which covered Wotanopolis glowed against sawtoothed mountains, rearing above a near horizon, and starlit sky. The dwarfed pale sun cast luminance from the west. Only one other spacecraft was in sight, a black shape which Dyann could identify as a patrol ship.
"They vill come out after us in force pretty soon," she said. "Vat can ve do about that boat yonder, ha?" She reached a decision. "Ah, yes." Her involuntary pilot received his orders. When he clamored refusal, she reminded him, briefly but painfully, that he was no volunteer but, indeed, an impressed man. The engine thuttered and the little scientific craft rose.
Having reached altitude, she descended again, sufficiently to play her jets across the patrol ship. That was not good for the patrol ship.
Dyann didn't bother to receive whatever they were trying to tell her from the control tower. "Now," she stated as her boat rose anew, "you, my policeman friend, take us to this prison and make them release Tallantyre to us. If this goes okay, ve vill set you free somevere. If not—" she passed the edge of her knife across the back of his hand, neatly shaving off hairs, "you may still be a police, but you might not be a man."
"You unutterable monster," he said.
"It is nicer droppin nuclear missiles on cities?" she asked, genuinely bemused.
"Yes," Urushkidan snickered, "I habe had a digestibe pouch full of you Jobians talking about te glories of war and destiny and te will of te Race and historical necessity and suchlike tings. Perhaps in future you will wish to employ more logical rigor."
The flight was short to Camp Muellenhoff. It lay out on the surface, a cluster of pressure huts around a watchtower. There was no barbed wire; the Ganymedean environment gave ample security. If a spacesuited prisoner did slip away from a work detail, the sole question was whether a local monster would get him before his oxygen or his heat pack was exhausted.
When the boat landed in the area, such a figure was urged toward her airlock by a couple of others. The political officer had radioed ahead the demand he was supposed to, quite convincingly. A voice did rattle out of her receiver: "Sir, I've been ordered to ask if you really want to bring this prisoner back
to town. We've lately been alerted to watch out for a party of escaped desperadoes."
"Yes," the secret policeman said between clenched teeth, "I want him back in town. Oh. how I want him back in town!"
The captive stumbled into the cabin. Ice promptly formed over his armor. Dyann gave a command, the boat stood on her tail and screamed off toward parts unknown, the newly rescued person clattered against the after bulkhead and lay asprawl.
Presently, when they were flying on an even keel, he opened his faceplate. Slightly battered, the countenance of Ray Tallantyre emerged. "Haa-ai, dear sveetheart!" Dyann cried. She reached for him, touched his suit, and withdraw her hand with a yelp. "How are you?" she asked, not very distinctly since she was sucking frostbitten fingers.
"Well . . . I . . . well, not too bad." he answered out of his bewilderment. "A rough time but . . . mainly it was truth drugs . . . they told me I'd be shot as a, a precautionary measure—"
"Poor, dear Ray! Poor little Earthlin! Lie easy. I vill soon take care of you."
"Yeah, I'm afraid you will."
"Te immediate question," Urushkidan said, "is, Tallantyre, can you pilot a behicle of tis type?"
"Well, uh. yes, I suppose I can," Ray answered. "Looks like a modified Astrid-Luscombe. . . . Yes, I can."
"Good. Ten we can drop tis creature here. I do not like and/or trust him. He smells of phenylalanine—Dyann! Do you mean we are not simply going to drop him?"
"I made my promise," the woman said.
They descended on a rocky plateau, gave the secret policeman a spacesuit, and dismissed him. He should be able to reach the camp, given reasonable luck. Nevertheless he bemoaned his maltreatment.
"And now. vat next?" Dyann asked blithely.
"Lord knows," Ray sighed. "I suppose we find us a place in the wilderness where we aren't likely to be spotted for a while, and take stock. Maybe, in some crazy fashion, we can contact the Union embassy. You and Urushkidan ought to rate diplomatic intervention, and I can ride on your cloaks. Maybe. First we find that hideyhole, and second we prepare to skedaddle if we spy a Jovian flyer."
He strapped into the master seat and tickled the controls. The boat lifted readily, but after a moment began to shake, while ominous noises came through the engine-room radiation wall.
"Could tat be te effects of carbon deposits in te tubes tat we were warned about?" wondered Urushkidan.
Ray grimaced. "You mean you took off without proper warmup? Yes. I'm afraid it is." His fingers danced across the board. The response he got was erratic. "We'll have to land soon. Else we crash. It'll take a week before the radioactivity is low enough that we can go out and clean the jets."
"And meanvile is a satellite-vide hunt after us." Dyann's clear brow wrinkled. "Is Ormun offended because I did not invite her alon? It does seem our luck is runnin low."
"And," said Ray. "how!"
IV
He used the last sputter of ions to set down in a valley which appeared to be as wild and remote as one could hope for. However, when he got a look through a viewport, he wondered if he hadn't overdone it.
Around the boat was a stretch of seamed and pitied stone, sloping up on every side toward fang-cragged hills. The glow of Jupiter shimmered, weirdly colored, off a distant glacier and a closer pool of liquid methane. The latter had begun boiling; its vapors obscured the tiny sun and streamed ragged across a stand of gaunt, glassy plants. Quite a wind must be blowing out there, though too tenuous for him to hear through the hull. At this time of day, when the hemisphere had warmed, the air—which still didn't amount to much more than a contaminated vacuum— consisted mostly of carbon dioxide, with some methane, ammonia. and nitrogen: not especially breathable. Even Urushkidan couldn't survive those conditions without proper gear. This craft's heating and atmosphere regeneration plants had better be in good working order.
An animal passed across the view in kangaroo-like bounds. While small, it gave him another reason not to want to go outdoors. Ganymedean biochemistry depended on heat-absorbent materials; the thermal radiation of a spacesuited human attracted animals, and carnivores were apt to try eating their way directly to the source.
Kay turned to his companions. "Well," he sighed, "what shall we do now?"
Dyann's eyes lit up. "Hunt monsters?" she suggested.
"Bah!" Urushkidan writhed his way toward the laboratory compartment, where there was a desk. "You do what you like except not to disturb me. I habe an interesting aspect of unified field teory to debelop."
"Look," said Ray. "we've got to take action. If we sit here passive, waiting for the time when we can clean those tubes, we're too bloody likely to be found."
"What do you imagine we can effect?"
"Oh. I don't know. Camouflage, maybe? Damnation, I have to do something!"
"I don't, apart from my matematics. Leabe me out of any idiotic schemes you may hatch."
"But if they catch us. we'll be killed!"
"I won't be," said Urushkidan smugly. "I am too baluable."
"You're a, uh, an accessory of ours."
"True. I did get carried away in te excitement. My hope was to aboid habing to waste my genius toiling for a mere engineering project. Tat hope has apparently been disappointed. Well, ten, te logical ting for me to do when te Jobians arribe is to go ahead and complete te dreary ting for tem, so tey will let me go home . . . wit proper payment for my serbices. I trust." The Martian paused. "As for you two. I will try to make it a condition tat your libes be spared. I am, after all, a noble person. I doubt you will eber be set free, but tink how many years you will habe, undistracted, to cultibate philosophical resignation."
Dyann tugged at Ray's sleeve, "Come on," she urged. "Let's hunt monsters."
"Waaah!" Goaded beyond endurance, the Earthman jumped on high—and, in Ganymedean gravity, cracked his pate on the overhead.
"Oh, poor darlin!" Dyann exclaimed, and folded him in an embrace that would have done credit to a bear.
"Let me go!" he raged. "Somebody here better think past the next minute!"
"You really must work on serenity," Urushkidan advised him. "Consider tings from te aspect of eternity. You are only a lower animal. Your fate is of no importance."
"You conceited octopus!"
"Temper, temper." Urushkidan wagged a flexible finger at the man. "Let me remind you why you should heed me. If your reasoning powers are so weak tat you cannot demonstrate a priori tat Martians are always right—by definition—ten remember te facts. Martians are beautiful. Martians habe a benerable cibilization. Eben physically, we are superior; I can libe under Eart conditions, but I dare you to try staying alibe under Mars conditions. I double-dog dare you."
"Martians," gritted Ray, "didn't come to Earth. Earthmen came to Mars."
"Of course. We had no reason to bisit you, but you had ebery reason to make pilgrimages to us, hoping tat a little beauty and wisdom would rub off on you. Enough. I am going aft to carry on my research and do not want to be disturbed, except tat when you get te galley going, you may bring me a bite to eat. I can ingest your kind of food, you know. I cannot, howeber, positibely cannot abide te taste of asparagus or truffles. Do not prepare me any dish wit asparagus or truffles." Urushkidan started off along the deck.
"You know, Ray," said Dyann, "I have been thinking, and you are right. Now is not the time to hunt monsters. Let's make love."
"Oh, God!" the human groaned. "If I could get away from you two lunatics, you'd see me exceed the speed of light doing it."
He stiffened where he stood.
"Yes?" asked Dyann.
"Lord, Lord, Lord," he whispered. "That's the answer."
"Yes, tat's right, talk no louder tan tat while I am tinking," Urushkidan said from the after door.
"The drive, the faster-than-light drive—" Ray broke into a war-dance around the cramped compartment, bounding from chairs to aisle and back. "We've got all kinds of scientific supplies and equipment, we've got the Solar System's top authority on the subject, I'm
an engineer, everybody knows that the basic effects have been shown in the laboratory and a real drive is just a matter of development— We'll do it ourselves!"
"Not so loud, I told you," Urushkidan grumbled. He passed by the door and slammed it behind him.
"Dyann, Dyann," Ray warbled, "we're going home."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you vant to leave me already?" she asked. "Do you not like me?"
"No, no, no, I want to save our lives, our freedom, that's all. Come on, let's go aft and take inventory. I'll need you to move the heavy stuff around."
Dyann shook her head. "No," she pouted. "If you don't care for me, vy should I help you?"
"Judas priest," Ray groaned. "Look, I love you, I adore you, I worship at your feet. Now will you give me a hand?"
Dyann brightened but insisted, "Prove it."
Ray kissed her. She seized him and responded enthusiastically.
"Yeow!" he screamed. "You're about to break my ribs! Leggo!" As she did: "Uh, we'll discuss this some other time, when we've less urgent business."
"Love," said Dyann, "has gotten to be very urgent business for me. Come here."
After a while Urushkidan opened the door. "If you two don't stop tose noises—" he began indignantly. His gaze went to the aisle. "Oh," he said. "Oh." He closed the door again.
Later, an aroma of coffee drew him back to the forward cabin. A disheveled Ray Tallantyre was busy at the little food preparation unit while Dyann sat polishing her sword and humming to herself.
"Well, hi," said the man with evident relief. "I guess we can get started. First, suppose I ask a few questions, to refresh and expand my knowledge of how this drive of yours works."
"It is not a dribe and it does not work," Urushkidan replied. "What I habe created is a structure of pure matematics. Besides, it is beyond te full comprehension of anybody but myself. Gibe me some coffee."
"You must have followed the experiments, though, and learned a good bit more along those lines from the Jovians who've been trying to build a usable device."
Poul Anderson's Planet Stories Page 46