The 19th Golden Age of Science Fiction

by Charles V. De Vet

  A few seconds later she said, “…doing here?”

  “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Pariseau asked.

  “How did you get in?”

  “We all have our secrets, don’t we?” he answered lightly.

  Suddenly she seemed to become aware of her state of undress. There was no embarrassment or confusion in her manner as she rose unhurriedly and walked across the room to where a wrap-around robe lay on the arm of a chair.

  Pariseau had to admire the poise with which she handled the situation—difficult under any circumstances. The hauteur of her manner seemed to put him in the position of an ogling yokel, while she acted oblivious to his existence.

  She wrapped the robe around her and turned back to him. “If this is a social call,” she said, “your manner of entrance is…unconventional, to say the least.”

  “Please forgive me,” Pariseau said, readily adopting her manner of casual conversational interplay. “Our last parting was a bit…ah, unconventional also. I was uncertain as to how welcome I would be.”

  “What do you want here?”

  “I merely wished to renew our interrupted acquaintance,” Pariseau answered. “Surely a woman as charming as yourself should not find that too surprising.”

  She smiled slowly, the last trace of resentment and uncertainty gone from her manner. “You are a very interesting person yourself,” she said. “I’ve been thinking of you quite a bit since our last meeting also—as you may have suspected.”

  “May I ask what aroused your interest in me in the first place?” Pariseau asked.

  “At the time my friends and I had in mind only the purchase of certain goods which we understood you had for sale.”

  “You method of attempting the purchase was a bit drastic, wasn’t it?”

  “You struck me,” she said, her eyes showing for a moment the turbulent spirit beneath her composed exterior. “Don’t ever do that again.” She paused speculatively. “On the other hand,” she said slowly, and her voice had dropped down a half octave. “You might be the one man that I’d permit to do that—and not kill him for it.”

  “Thank you,” Pariseau said. He had meant to say it jestingly and was surprised at the way his words sounded to him. In that instant he realized that this woman had the power to sway and change him, to turn him reasonable when he was unreasonable, to make him gentle when he was angry. Perhaps also she had the power to drive him mad when he was sane.

  “At least when I look at you now I do not think of—killing you,” Zelda said.

  They looked at each other for a long moment.

  She laughed then at the way she had shattered his poise and she was once again a woman very sure of herself. “Drink?” she asked, rising to her feet.

  He nodded.

  She went to a small bar in the corner and began putting together two drinks. Pariseau liked the way she hadn’t asked what he wanted. It was a small thing, but it showed the spirit of a woman with a mind that had not conformed too readily to the niceties and polite courtesies of society. And…he laughed silently to himself as he admitted it…she had stirred something in him which few other women had ever been able to touch. He rubbed the moist palms of his hands down along the sides of his trouser legs.

  She turned with the drinks in her hands. “Oh,” she said, surprised to find him still standing, “I’m sorry; please sit down.”

  “Thank you.” He started toward a chair.

  “Over here,” she said.

  He took the seat on the wall-rest beside her, which she had indicated. She handed him his drink and, whether by accident or not, her fingers brushed his. He was aware, as he had been the first time she touched him, of the unexpected warmth of her fingers—while they appeared so slender and cool twined about the liquor glass.

  He took the drink and she said, “I owe you something.” She leaned forward and put her lips against his. She increased the pressure slightly before she drew away.

  Pariseau grasped for some inconsequential remark, but she held her face close to his and he could find no words. Her breath had the faint aroma of mint, and he could see his own reflection in the azure depths of her green eyes.

  Unseeing she put her drink on the stand beside the wall-rest and moved nearer to him. She tilted up her chin and took the lobe of his ear between her white teeth and bit until he felt a sharp pain.

  The liquor in his glass splashed over the sides and into his lap.

  * * * *

  Back in his room, Pariseau put through a call his private screen-phone, pressed the scrambler button, and waited.

  Hesse must have been sitting near his instrument for his large head took up two-thirds of the screen. “Yes?” he said.

  “I’ve reestablished contact,” Pariseau told him.

  “Through the girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “I figured that would be the best means,” Hesse said. “How did it go?”

  “Quite well; I think she was as glad to see me as I was to see her.”

  “How did you get that impression?”

  “Well…” Pariseau paused, ill at ease.

  “She turned on the charm?” Hesse asked. He laughed. “What is there about that big ugly face of yours that women love? It’s a mystery to me, but it always seems to happen.”

  Pariseau felt himself getting red again. “That had nothing to do with it,” he said uncomfortably. He wondered why it was that he always felt like a small boy whenever he talked with his superior. Especially when Hesse teased him like this. “She probably played it that way hoping to manipulate me a little easier,” he said.

  “Did you check to make certain that she is a Lottenbaie?” Hesse asked, all trace of bantering gone from his tone now.

  “Yes; she is, all right.”

  “Did you talk business?”

  “No. I thought I’d better see what you had in mind first.”

  “I think,” Hesse said, “that it will be safe now for you to sell our hidden cache of guns and ammunition. Let me know when they’ll be picking it up, and I’ll set the situation here so that the officials learn about the cache at very nearly the same time. Maybe we can give the government another jolt if they catch the Lottenbaies in the act of picking up the arms.”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve done it,” Pariseau agreed. “Has there been any action on your end yet?”

  “Quite a little. The president of Rex Major has sent our envoys to the eight nearest worlds in this sector. If we can time our little jolt with the cache right we should really get them moving.”

  “I’ll call again as soon as I know anything,” Pariseau said.

  “Good luck.”

  Chapter 5

  The eyes of most of the patrons of the bar followed Zelda’s progress as she made her way through the crowded room. The ankle-length, skin tight trousers she wore followed the conventional pattern of Rex Major style. Her bare midriff and elastic-top halter, pulled down off her smoothly rounded shoulders, was little more or less revealing than the dress of most of the other women; but the pastel blue of her outfit, emphasizing the whiteness of her woman’s flesh, and the white trim of the halter, patterned in such a way as to draw discreet attention to the round pressure of her breasts against her frock was an eye-catching vision that few of the other women could ever hope to match. She wore the clothes as though she had grown them.

  Pariseau watched her approach with a personal appreciation of her beauty.

  She met his glance and read there the things that made her feel desirable. She seated herself across from him in the semi-private booth off the dance floor and gave him several long minutes to absorb her into his thoughts before she spoke. The look she gave him over her highball glass was almost a caress, but when she spoke the words were not the unspoken ones that had been in her eyes.

  “Coval,” she said resolutely, “there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

  “Yes?”

  “As you probably realize by now,” she said,
“I work for a group of people—their identity will have to remain my secret—who wish to buy something that I’m quite certain you have for sale.”

  “And what is that?” Pariseau asked.

  “Before I answer that question,” she said, “let me say that we have quite authentic information that you are the man who brought in a space ship load of arms last week.”

  “And?”

  “And while the police seized that load, we believe you have other arms secreted somewhere here on Rex Major. Are we correct in presuming that they are for sale?”

  “You’d like to buy them?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not going to hedge, and pretend that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pariseau said. “I might say that I know enough about you to believe that you’re not trying to trap me, and that your offer probably is legitimate. So we can get right down to business. What will you pay?”

  “That would depend on the amount and condition of the arms, of course,” she answered.

  “My terms are ten thousand counts, sight unseen,” Pariseau said.

  She hesitated. “I don’t know if I have the authority to agree to that.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to take it or leave it.”

  “How would you deliver?”

  “When I receive the money I’ll give you a map of the area, marked to show the location of the arms, and give you directions so that you’ll have no trouble finding them.”

  “And we’d have to trust you,” she said thoughtfully before giving him his answer. “I’ll have to get the authority before I can agree,” she said. “But I could call right now, and let you know in a few minutes. Is that agreeable with you?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Then excuse me, please.” She rose and walked to a row of screen-phone booths across the room.

  After she disappeared Pariseau rose quickly and followed, taking a booth a few paces from where she had entered.

  Hesse rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he answered. “Oh,” he said, when he recognized Pariseau. “You. What is it?”

  “I have only a short time to talk,” Pariseau said, speaking rapidly. “I’m on the point of making the transaction now. They’ll probably move fast once I give them the location, so you’d better get things moving on your end at the earliest opportunity.”

  “I’ll do it the first thing in the morning,” Hesse replied tersely. “I’ve decided on one change however. I’m not going to give the authorities the exact hiding place; that way they’ll have to send out searching parties. The Lottenbaies should reach there first, and probably be intercepted in the act of removing the arms. That should be more effective than their merely finding the cache.”

  “Whatever you say,” Pariseau answered. “Is that all?”

  Hesse nodded and broke the connection.

  He left the booth, took two steps, and a low voice said, “Don’t turn around; I have a gun aimed at your back. Walk directly to the front door, and outside.”

  Pariseau hesitated only a split-second before obeying. In that short interval he decided to make no attempt to thwart his unseen abductor. This way should accomplish his end as well or better than any other. He walked slowly to the front door.

  “You may look back now, if you wish,” the voice behind him said, once they were outside.

  Pariseau turned. It needed only a glance to tell him that he was dealing with no ordinary adversary. The man was tall, big-boned, and blond—as he had expected—but there was a strength of character and an inner conviction of power that his earlier captors had lacked. Pariseau marked him down as a dangerous opponent.

  “What’s your business with me, Mr.—?” Pariseau hesitated expectantly-

  “You may call me Kolls,” the man said; “our business can wait until later. For now, step up on the pedestrian belt—and keep in mind that the hand I have in my pocket holds a loaded gun. Also, I’m a very good shot.”

  “I’ll remember,” Pariseau said.

  They rode the belt until they came to the building with the illuminated bottle on its top.

  In the courtyard Zelda was waiting for them. She wore a cape over her outfit. She seemed to be trying to tell Pariseau something with her eyes, but he ignored her.

  They went through the under-ground passageway and came out in the clearing at the end. This time there was a small Benz flyer waiting for them—with a pilot at the controls. Pariseau speculated briefly as to whether these men had some method of communication between those within the city and those without. They entered and the copter rose into the air.

  Kolls made no attempt to blindfold Pariseau and he observed the terrain as they passed, making a picture of it in his mind for possible future use.

  At the end of almost three hours’ flight, most of it above untraveled jungle, they passed over a mighty encampment of brush huts, animal-hide tents, and other primitive dwellings, most of them obviously temporary. The dwellings stretched as far as the eye could see, and among them moved countless numbers, of shaggy tribesmen.

  A gigantic bivouac of Slaggs.

  His captor must either be very sure of him, if he were allowing him to see this, Pariseau decided, or else Kolls had no intention of ever allowing him to return. He felt the surge of excitement in his bowels that the presence of danger always brought. And, as always, the excitement pleased him. He wondered idly about this thing within him that demanded conflict, and adventure. Life without that, to him, would always be an empty thing, robbed of its vital juice.

  It was a heritage of his blood, he decided. He remembered hearing how his superior had been the same when young, and who even now—when he had grown too old for physical conflict—must live on its fringes. He shrugged philosophically.

  Somewhere on the edge of the Slagg territory the copter landed. Here the encampment was somewhat different; most of the dwellings he saw were made of a green sheet-plastic, shaded to blend with the surrounding jungle—and nothing about it was haphazard.

  The buildings were laid in neat, orderly rows, the space between was conspicuously clean, and the men within sight worked or walked briskly and erect, each seemingly engaged with important tasks.

  On one edge of the encampment ran a swift, deep river.

  * * * *

  PARISEAU spent the few remaining hours of daylight and all the night alone. Zelda disappeared soon after they landed; she had not spoken to him at all. Kolls lingered only long enough to inform him that he was free to do what he wished, as long as he did not leave the area of the Lottenbaie encampment, but warned him against displaying excessive curiosity.

  Pariseau stayed in the vicinity of the hut assigned him but kept all his faculties of observation alert. He noted very soon that the Lottenbaies were divided into two quite distinct types—perhaps even separate species. The minority—about a dozen of whom were bleached white—bore the general characteristics of Kolls and Zelda. The differences between them and the majority of the green men were small, but quite pronounced. The others had coarser nose and ear cartilage—the latter without lobes and shaped like conical sea shells—and small pig eyes. Also their coloring was a deeper shade of green. But their principal difference was one of intelligence. Kolls’ branch of the race obviously was the more intellectual, and dominated the others.

  The outstanding characteristics of the green men were their orderly, systematic regimentation, and sharp discipline.

  * * * *

  Kolls waked Pariseau before dawn the next morning. “We’ll be leaving in exactly fifteen minutes,” he said. “Be ready.”

  “You seem quite sure of my compliance,” Pariseau commented, not rising from his cot.

  Kolls stood over him, looking down. “You have no choice,” he said.

  Pariseau reflected on this for a moment. “That’s true,” he answered. “But tell me this. Are you buying those weapons from me, or simply appropriating them? And what do you intend to do with me, after I’ve led you to where I have them hidden?”
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br />   “That depends entirely on you,” Kolls replied. He spoke the universal English of the humans faultlessly. “If your conduct between now and the completion of the transfer convince me that you are acting in good faith you will be paid the price you ask, and allowed to go—with the assurance that we will pay the same price for any further shipments you care to make. If I am not satisfied as to your trustworthiness…” He made a significant motion with one hand.

  Pariseau pulled himself slowly from his cots and Kolls left him.

  * * * *

  The Lottenbaie pilots set the pair of flying barges down in the clearing Pariseau pointed out to them. Immediately upon landing, a segment of the green men spread out and took up positions of observation in a circle several hundred yards from the ships.

  Pariseau led Kolls and the main party to a mound of rocks piled haphazardly at the base of a low cliff. He showed them which rocks to remove. A short time later they had cleared an opening into the cliff face.

  Less than a half-hour elapsed before all the cases had been removed and placed in the ships.

  At that moment the warning came.

  There was a sharp cry from one of the sentries posted on a hilltop, and a minute later a small Benz came swooping over the ridge. It passed over them, then banked sharply and returned. It hovered over the party and their pair of barges, removing the last doubt about it having spotted them.

  Immediately, those of the Lottenbaies that were armed opened fire. The Benz wavered, lost a few yards altitude in a sudden drop, bucked erratically forward three times before it set into a long wobbling glide that carried it behind a tree-covered ridge.

  Kolls shouted something in his own language and the sentries came hurrying in. He turned and barked out a string of commands at several of the green men and they moved in a body toward Pariseau.

  He knew it was futile to resist, and he did not intend to; but he found himself striking down the first green man that put a hand on him. The others crowded in from all sides and began striking at him. It was obvious that they intended to take him alive. The man on the ground grabbed his legs and Pariseau fell on his side. He kicked loose and fought his way to his feet once more. For a time the close press of bodies against him gave him some protection and he struck down each face that appeared before him.