Amazon Planet

V

Happily, Guy Thomas was in a shadowy area, even darker than the balance of the alley-street. It had been pure luck, when he rolled away from the other’s line of fire, that had put him there. He doubted, unless his attacker was using infrared, that the other could make out his position. Guy took his time, studying the layout.

He decided that a stone doorway, possibly thirty feet up the passage, must be the other’s ambush. The light which had accompanied the beam, must have come from approximately there. Guy brought his left hand up and made his grip on the gun a double one, for greater stability. He tightened the trigger slowly, not quite squeezing off.

As he stared at the doorway his eyes slowly became more accustomed to the shadows. And, yes, unless vision played him false, he could see the barest suggestion of a figure there. Not enough of a target to expect a hit. He continued to hold his fire.

His opponent moved slightly. It came to Guy that his foe couldn’t be sure if he had hit his victim or not. The beam had lashed out, Guy had fallen to the street; since then, he had made no motion. Certainly the other was playing it cautious.

He saw the figure move again, revealing a bit more of itself. Unless he was mistaken, that was a head, half exposed, trying to seek out Guy’s position.

There was no doubt in Guy’s mind whatsoever. The attack had been an attempt at murder. Not just mugging, not just an attempt at robbery. Was it a case of mistaken identity? There would seem to be no other alternative that made sense. But mistaken identity or not, the assassin was interested in murder and nothing short of that. Guy Thomas’ lips were already dry, now they thinned back over his teeth inadvertently.

The figure moved again. A full half of a human form was revealed. Guy tightened on the trigger, ever so slightly. The silenced, recoiless handweapon coughed.

There was a scream from up the alley, high pitched at first then trailing off in an attempt at repression. A figure staggered from the doorway, brought itself up sharp, then scurried away in the direction of greater dark. Something clattered to the pavement.

For a brief moment, Guy, now on one knee, leveled the gun again. But then he shook his head and held fire. The other was winged. His death would avail the Earthling nothing, and might possibly lead to complications.

Guy stood erect and walked toward the recess in which the assassin had stood in hiding. There on the ground was the gun the unknown had utilized. Guy picked it up and scowled at it, thrusting his own weapon into his belt again. He had never seen this type of gun but he supposed there was no particular reason why he should have been expected to be acquainted with weapons that had evolved on this world. With three thousand planets in UP, even a full-time expert could hardly be knowledgeable about all the means evolved of dealing out death throughout the worlds.

He stuck the second weapon in his belt as well, and continued on his way.

He was nearing his destination now, and began checking the street names, inlaid attractively in mosaic at every crossing, in the pavement itself. He found his narrow street, found his number.

Guy Thomas hesitated before the stone arch and the door behind it. It was late, indeed. Perhaps he should have waited for another occasion. But he shrugged that off. What other occasion? For all he knew, there might not be any. He had to take what opportunity offered.

He thumped on the door as gently as was consistent with arousing those within. He waited and then put his hand up again to thump once more.

But the door opened inward. He peered, to be confronted with darkness.

“Don’t tread on me,” he said softly, self-consciously.

“The Sons of Liberty Arise,” a voice whispered back. “Come in.”

He moved forward. The door closed behind. And then there was light and a burly figure staring at him.

“Who in Zen are you?” the other rasped.

“I’m from Earth,” Guy said.

“Sarpedon got through!”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. Where is he? Still on Earth?”

“He’s probably dead.”

The other stared anew at the newcomer. “Dead?” he was blankly.

Guy said, “He disappeared. It’s impossible to disappear on Earth. Or all but impossible. Under the circumstances, we assumed he was dead.”

“Oh, the bitches,” the big man groaned.

“We have no evidence who was responsible.”

“I don’t need evidence. Here, come on in. Follow me.”

Guy followed him down a stone corridor, along the edge of a patio garden in the middle of which a, small fountain tinkled. These houses were well done. He looked sharply left and right, as he went. Across the patio, two men were talking, their voices low; on their hips they carried quick-draw holsters. They passed a room, door open; five men sat around a table, playing cards. Guy noted two rifles leaning against the wall.

He followed the other into another room which was comparatively nude of furniture in spite of its size. A large table dominated its center and there were possibly a score of straight chairs, some about the table, some against the walls. The table was piled with a confusion of papers, pamphlets and books. And there was another man seated at it.

The one who had given Guy entrance said, “I’m Zeke. We don’t use second names in our outfit. This is Teucer.”

“My name’s Thomas. Guy Thomas.”

Teucer was a slight, strained man, a hungry look about him. His voice was just this side of being shrill. He said, “Don’t tread on me.”

Guy Thomas said to them both. “Don’t misunderstand my position. I’m here to investigate. I don’t necessarily back the stand you Sons of Liberty people are taking. I’m here to gather information.”

“You’re a man, aren’t you?” Zeke said belligerently.

Guy eyed him.

Zeke said sourly, “Sit down. Did they only send one? We were hoping for a full landing of Space Marines.”

Guy took the proffered chair. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous to us,” Teucer said. “Maybe it wouldn’t be ridiculous to you, if you was a third-rate citizen on a world run by half-crazy mopsies.”

Zeke said, “Let me tell this, Tuecer. We haven’t got much time now. It’ll be dawn, before too long and Zen knows when we can get together with Damon and the others and have a real meeting.”

“Who’s Damon?” Guy said.

“The headman in the Sons of Liberty.”

“All right, obviously I’ll have to see him sooner or later. Before we go any further; somebody took a shot at me on my way over here. I think I winged him.”

Both Zeke and Teucer gawked at him. Though both wore the evidently universal tunic which came down, kilt-like, to approximately the knees, in other respect they could hardly have been much different. Zeke was a dark man, gruff and unhappy. Teucer was overly thin, pale of face, quick in nervous movement. They wouldn’t have impressed one as being a team.

Guy waited for their comment.

Zeke came to his feet, his face unbelieving, crossed to a niche set into the stone wall and brought forth a flask and three glasses. He brought the things back and set them on the table. He poured three drinks.

“Wine,” he said. He took his up. “Who could it have been?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Guy said reasonably. “A footpad? A common stickup man? But the thing is, he tried to kill me, not just roll me for my money.”

Teucer was shaking his head. “I’ve read about how things are on Earth, but there’s not what you’d call stickup men here in Themiscyra. For all practical purposes, there’s no crime. It’s all one big crime, maybe, but—”

Zeke cut in. “The thing is,” he told Guy, “that there’s no money. Not like you know it. So it’s not much use being a footpad, or whatever it was you called him. All he could get from crisping you would be your watch, your ring. It’s not worth it.”

Guy didn’t like this. It added a factor that simply shouldn’t have been here. It worried him. He said, “How many knew I was coming?”

Zeke scowled at him. “How do you mean? Nobody knew you were coming. How could we know you were coming?” Sarpedon had no way of getting a message back to us.”

Guy said, “Look. Let’s start at beginnings. Tell me, briefly, your position. I say briefly, because, of course, I heard your Sarpedon’s story.” He took up his glass and took a swallow. The wine was excellent, clean and fruity and similar to a Soave from that area of Earth once known as Italy.

Zeke took a deep draught of his own wine_a wiped his mouth with the back of a beefy paw and said, “All right. Here we go. It’s got to the point on Amazonia where we can’t stand it any longer, understand? Men I mean. You get to the point finally where you can’t stand it any longer, right?”

Guy said, “Go on.”

“All right. A guy here, a guy there, began talking, began studying up on history, especially the history of revolts, revolutions, armed rebellions. The mopsies can’t hide it all. If they want to be educated themselves, they’ve got to run the chance of us getting educated too. It’s too hard to hide books and reading tapes. Anyway, it started with a single man here and there and began to grow. The message began to spread. Then, suddenly, almost overnight, we found ourselves with an organization, and underground, the Sons of Liberty. It’s spread. It’s spread all over, not only in Paphlagonia but Lybia. The men over there are as fed up as we are here.”

“And how’s the movement going?” Guy said carefully.

“It’s all set to blow. There’s only one thing. Precious few men ever get the chance to work out with weapons, guns, explosives, that sort of thing.”

Guy Thomas thought of Podner Bates and nodded understanding.

“The moment our underground stuck its head up, it’d be a bloodbath. Well, I guess that part of it’s already obvious to you. At any rate, we decided to send a representative to United Planets. It wasn’t easy. It’s practically impossible for a man to leave Amazonia.”

“So I understand,” Guy nodded, sipping at the wine again.

Teucer filled all three of the glasses again. He began to say something but Zeke held up a hand.

“Sarpedon was one of our best. He was, well, one of the top male athletes in Paphlagonia—they let us participate in some sports.” He grunted disgust. “At any rate, he was tops. He and Damon were kind of like brothers. I knew him myself. He was our best.” He paused momentarily and bit out, “The bitches, oh the bitches!”

“Go ahead,” Guy said.

“Well, the way we did it, we smuggled him out to the artificial satellite where the United Planets embassy is. We plotted it thoroughly, taking lots of time, and we finally made it. Hippolyte’s gang never found out.”

“You’re lucky,” Guy said evenly, “the embassy didn’t turn him back to the authorities.”

“Why should they? That satellite embassy is United Planets territory. He demanded political refuge.”

“It’s not ordinarily the sort of thing you can claim from UP,” Guy said. “Amazonia is a member planet herself. It’s not as though Sarpedon was claiming political refuge from Avalon or some other sovereign world. But go on.”

Zeke snorted. “Most of the personnel on that satellite are men. They have an idea of what we go through down here. At any rate, they took Sarpedon in, gave him a great welcome, didn’t let old Hippolyte’s government hear a word about it. At the first chance they sent him back to Earth to have his say to the United Planets Assembly. Well, from what you report, he made it. The only thing surprises me, you’re here all alone. Where’s the rest?”

Guy Thomas was shaking his head. “He didn’t make his destination. The United Planets Assembly, which, of course, is composed of delegates from every member planet, never heard his plaint.”

Teucer, indignant, shrilled, “How come?”

Guy looked at him. “Sarpedon appeared at the Octagon in Greater Washington. He was turned over to the Interplanetary Department of Justice which listened to his story and decided against letting him speak before the Assembly. He gave us your passwords, and where we could make contact with you. He turned over charts and city plans of Themiscyra. Of course, when I was given this assignment, I memorized them. We located him in an apartment, with the intention of keeping him in Greater Washington until we could look further into his complaint. Frankly, he was a hot potato. A few days later, he disappeared, leaving most of his effects, even personal ones, in the apartment. Needless to say, we suspected the worst. There is no possible way to exist on Earth as it is today, without such things as credit cards. Even the credit card we had issued him had been left behind.”

“What I don’t get,” Zeke said lowly, “is the Octagon and this Department of Interplanetary Justice getting in his way to speaking his piece in front of the Assembly. That would’ve given us a chance.”

Guy looked at him in silence for a long moment, his mouth pursed in perplexity, as though wondering how to phrase what he had next to say.

Finally, “Zeke, Teucer, don’t read more into the United Planets than is there. It’s a very loosely knit organization and practically powerless. It isn’t and was never meant to be a super-government. If it attempted to be, the member planets would drop away until for all practical purposes Earth would stand alone as a member.”

They were frowning unhappily at his words, unhappily and half unbelievingly.

He shook his head. “In actuality, most planets join the orgaization to be assured of not being interfered with. They want protection against their neighboring worlds which have possibly different political, socioeconomic or religious institutions than their own. Aren’t you familiar with Articles One and Two of the UP Charter?”

They were uncomprehending.

Guy sighed. “I thought every schoolkid learned them by heart. They go like this. Article One: The United Planets organization shall take no steps to interfere with the internal political, socioeconomic, or religious institutions of its member planets. Article Two: No member planet of United Planets shall interfere with the internal political, socioeconomic or religious institutions of any other member planet.”

“You mean,” Teucer accused, “you’re’ not allowed to help us?”

Guy shook his head. “Not by United Planets law. What happens on Amazonia is strictly the business of Amazonia and nobody else’s. If we employees of UP began to stick noses in the affairs of the Hippolyte, she’d simply drop out of the organization and if we continued to interfere it would mean war. And, I assure you, a thousand other member planets who don’t wish their internal affairs to be pried into, would take a very dim view of the UP Space Forces being aggressors against a planet which has shown no hostility to any other worlds.”

Zeke blurted hotly, “Then what do you do? What good is the nardy organization?”

Guy Thomas waited for him to cool off before going on. “We explore and patrol space. We try to promote trade and foster progress. If the medical researchers of one planet discover an improved cure for cancer, or whatever, we make every effort to spread the new discovery, avoiding, of necessity, such planets as Eddy, which was colonized by Christian Scientists. If some planet seems about to interfere with the affairs of some other, then we take the most aggressive step in our power. We send the fleet, in all its might, to go into protective orbit about the threatened world. Never has actual combat ensued, the warning is sufficient. The UP fleet, needless to say, could blow the strongest planet into nothingness within split seconds. It has never had occasion to, obviously.”

Teucer glared at him. “Why’d you bother to come, then? You aren’t willing to help us! You’ll stand by and let a billion men and more be treated like slaves, like zombies, like…”

Guy said mildly, “I haven’t been on Amazonia very long, admittedly, but from what I’ve seen you have a surprisingly advanced technology. This is by no means one of the have-not worlds.”

“Yes!” Teucer snarled. “And why? Because we men produce it. We slave our lives away and don’t even have a voice in the nardy government that shoves us around like we were children. You don’t know what it’s like, Thomas! Why’d you bother to come?”

“I’ll answer that,” Guy said cautiously. “First of all, realize that although the UP Charter ties the hands of the Octagon when an appeal like yours comes through—there have been others, the United Planets is not composed exclusively of Utopias. Though our hands are legally tied, we are not insensitive to your situation. I am, of course, incognito. I landed in the guise of an expediter from the Department of Interplanetary Trade, to arrange a deal between Amazonia and Avalon. My real job is to locate you people and get the full story.”

“But what good can it possibly do us?”

Guy Thomas said very carefully, “You never know. Just out of curiosity, what is it you need to promote your cause? Money? I never heard of a revolutionary organization that didn’t need money.”

“Money?” Teucer grunted bitterly. “We don’t use money here.”

“That’s right, one of you mentioned that. How do you carry on exchange? There’s always some equivalent to money.”

“Not on Amazonia. There is no exchange. We keep telling you, this is the most far-out dictatorship you ever ran into in all your United Planets.”

Guy was frowning puzzlement at him. He said, “On anarchist planets, such as Kropotkin, yes. I can understand no medium of exchange. They utilize simple barter. But an advanced world such as Amazonia?”

The scarecrow of a man wrenched a wallet from a purselike affair that hung from his belt. He pulled a plastic card forth and shook it at the agent from Earth. “I work, see? Every hour I put in is credited to me in the computers. Every time I spend something, I put this card up against the credit screen and the amount is deducted.”

“What amount?” Guy said. “You said you didn’t have money.”

Suppose I want to buy a camera. They’ve figured out just how long it took to produce that camera, the number of hours to extract the aluminum in its body, the time to grind the lenses, everything. The total number of hours involved. Say it’s two hours. Then it costs me two hours of my time—I work in sewage disposal—to buy the camera. The computers keep track of the whole thing.”

Guy said, “Well, suppose you wanted to buy a hovercar, something like that which would take hundreds of hours to produce?”

“What do you think? The computers won’t let me buy it until I’ve saved up that number of hours.”

Guy was frowning. “You say you work in the sanitary system. But suppose another man was a…well, research chemist, a highly trained scientist. How would he be awarded these hour credits?”

“Exactly the same,” Zeke said in disgust. “The smartest man in the country doesn’t get anything more for his time, than the dumbest moron. In fact, he gets less, if you want to look at it that way. The moron gets taken care of for free, the big brain has to work if he wants to eat.”

Guy thought about it for awhile. “There’s no way for you to get ahead, really, eh? What’s your initiative? Why bother to try at all?”

“Initiative!” Zeke said, still bitterly. “Our initiative is that we like to eat.”

A window was beginning to gray with the first of dawn.

Guy, shaking his head, finished his wine and said, “There’s a lot still to go over but I suppose it’ll have to wait until I meet this Damon of yours. How can we get in touch with each other?”

“Where are you staying?” Zeke said.

Guy told him.

“One of those semi-prisons for single men,” Teucer sneered.

“Thus far,” Guy told him, “it’s been quite comfortable.”

“Jails can be comfortable, but they’re still jails.”

Zeke said, “All right, all right, Teucer. We can’t convert him all at once. Listen, Guy, I don’t know if we can contact you there or not. I don’t know what kind of guard they’ve got over you. We’ll find out; we’ve got spies everywhere. But you can always reach us here. This is one of our drops. If anything happens to this place, here’s the address of another.” He handed Guy a paper. “Memorize it, and destroy it. We take every precaution we can, but I guess you can be trusted. I guess you’re more up on these things than we are.”

Guy said, “Why do you guess that?”

Zeke looked at him. “I get the impression this isn’t the first assignment of this type you’ve been on.”

Guy said nothing to that.

Zeke said, “The first impression you give is kind of ineffectual, but if you look below the surface…”

Guy Thomas shrugged and came to his feet. “You can trust me,” he said. “I’d better be getting back.”

“You’ve got a shooter, eh? You said you winged whoever it was tried to crisp you.”

“Yes,” I’m armed.”

“How’d you ever get it past those custom mopsies? They’ve got a reputation.”

“We’ve got ways,” Guy said shortly.

Zeke saw him to the door.

Before leaving, Guy said, “How many men do you have in your organization, Zeke?”

The other hesitated. “Active? Thousands, tens of thousands. I mean real members of the Sons of Liberty. But inactive sympathizers who’ll rally round when the time comes? At least half the population. Half the men, that is.”

Guy said slowly, “How many of them are like Teucer?”

Zeke scowled, uncomprehending. “What’s the matter with Teucer?”

Guy said, “He’s not the most educated type in the world, and he’s on the emotional side. I’ve seen revolutionary organizations before, Zeke. In the clutch, you want…”

“Aw, Teucer’s all right. You got to get used to him.”

“How many have you got like Teucer?” Guy repeated. Zeke rubbed the bottom of his chin with a beefy paw. “Too many,” he growled. He opened the door for the Octagon operative. “He’s from Lybia,” he added. “On the run from the police over there. We’re hiding him out temporarily, till we can figure where to use him.” As a safety measure, Guy took a different route home, and covered the distance considerably more cautiously than he had in coming.

His gun was handy to his fingers, and he stopped at each street crossing, looking both ways. He wanted no repetition of the ambush of a couple of hours earlier. Pure luck had saved him there and pure luck seldom blesses you twice running.

The slower pace he had to take, to eliminate any further chance of attempted assassination, conflicted with his need to get back to his quarters before full dawn. He agonized, but there was nothing for it.

By the time he reached the sanctuary, it was too light to attempt to scale the wall to his window. Too great a chance that he would be spotted.

He marched deliberately up to the door through which the major had ushered him, some hours earlier, grasped the knob and pushed his way through. Again he was surprised at the lack of guard, or even lock. To hear the major and the others, a man wasn’t safe in the vicinity of a warrior who had less than three husbands in her home. How did this jibe with the fact that this building full of bachelors was so easily entered?

He started up the stairway to the second floor where his small suite was located.

A voice tittered, “Oh, good heavens! Where have you been, darling?” It was Podner Bates, coming down.

Guy said, making his voice grumpy, “I couldn’t sleep. I decided to take a walk.”

“A walk! Artimis! Dear boy, don’t you realize your freedom isn’t worth a nicker, not a flicker, out on those streets? Suppose some young warrior had spotted you?”

They’d met half way down the stairs.

Guy said, “Search me. What would have happened?”

Podner flicked his wrist, flabbergasted. “My dear, haven’t you been informed at all? Any warrior whosoever who spots you and decides she likes you, can simply place her hand on your shoulder and say, I thee take. Your only recourse, if you object to being taken under her wing, is to throw yourself on the mercy of some warrior you like better. If she refuses you, for whatever reason, darling, then you must…” Podner arched his eyebrows “…give yourself to the one who claimed you.”

Guy said, “I was just walking along the street, trying to think, getting a breath of air. How’d one of these warriors know I wasn’t already married?”

Podner fluttered, even as he turned to accompany Guy back to his suite. “Darling, you’re so naive. You see how my tunic tucks up over my shoulder here? That proclaims, me a widower. I am eligible for the taking, of course, but…” he cleared his throat delicately “…of course, it’s virgins that are always in demand.”

“Virgins?” Guy said blankly.

He looked at the shoulder of his own tunic.

“Your garb,” Podner tittered, “proclaims you to one and all a virgin.”

Guy Thomas closed his eyes in pain.