Amazon Planet

VI

Podner Bates saw him to his suite, gossiping along as they went.

Guy felt a coldness in his stomach. Along the way, had he run into any man-seeking Amazon, it would have either been a matter of shooting her, or submitting to the damnedest marriage custom he had ever heard of.

I thee take, yet! How informal could you get? And didn’t the man, or even the man’s parents, have anything to say about it? In all his readings on far-out societies, and they had some dillies in United Planets, Guy Thomas had never run into one quite this cavalier.

“How come?” he blurted to Podner, in protest.

“I beg your pardon, darling?” They were nearly to his door.

“Why’s it so easy for a…a warrior to latch onto any man who comes along? Isn’t there any way of avoiding being up for grabs?”

“Oh dear,” Podner sighed. “It’s so hard to realize you aren’t familiar with our ways. It seems so natural to me. Well, let me think. I have heard that wooing is somewhat different on your unnatural planets.”

“Unnatural?”

“Where…” Podner giggled delicately “…where we boys dominate. It’s so hard to believe, isn’t it? Anyway, I understand the Goddess Artimis first revealed her desires pertaining to a warrior taking a mate, when the early colony ships set down on Amazonia. She saw in her infinite wisdom that the need was to be…” Podner coughed gently “…fertile and populate the land. Girls were proclaimed warriors at the age of fourteen, and everything facilitated to hurry them into a relationship. If the medicos permitted, the first child was on its way at not later than fifteen.” Podner giggled. “As you can imagine, obstetrics was quite our foremost science. It has progressed to the point where a warrior is inconvenienced for but a week or so.”

Guy shook his head, his hand on the doorknob of his suite. “Thanks for the information. I’ll know, next time, to be more careful. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the major about my little jaunt. She had already told me to stay put.”

Podner fluttered a hand. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m no tattletale. We boys have to stick together.”

Guy Thomas closed the door behind him and looked warily in the direction of his still unrumpled bed. But then he did a quick double-take. His eyes were suddenly wide, sleep forgotten.

The room was a shambles. His things had been ransacked, and no effort made to disguise the fact. He stood rooted, his mind whirling. This made no sense at all. It made no more sense than his being shot at on his way to contact the Sons of Liberty. There was no reason for him to be an assassin’s target. There was no need to ransack his belongings.

He began gathering them together. He had had no time, earlier, to properly unpack, and his clothes and personal belongings had remained in his luggage. Now they were scattered about the bed, on the table, on chairs. Some of them thrown to the floor.

His tool kit had been emptied, helter skelter, on the table top where he himself had assembled his gun, earlier, from its disguised component parts. He went over each item he had brought with him from Earth, in careful memory. For a time, he could find nothing missing, but then a cold fear went through him. He sought frantically.

His communicator. It wasn’t actually gone. He found it, or rather its remains. Someone had obviously crushed it under heel and then kicked it under the bed, deliberately, as though in contempt.

His communicator.

He had lost his only method of contact with either the UP Embassy on its artificial satellite, or with Earth itself. He was stranded on the planet Amazonia, from which no man had ever been known to escape, save the revolutionist Sarpedon, in the memory of any living person.

Guy Thomas was baffled. But who? It made no sense. No sense at all. Podner Bates came to his mind. The only person who knew he was here, save the major and her underlings. The major? But why? They had searched his things with painful care on the ship. There was hardly reason to search them again. Besides, who could possibly have known he wasn’t in his room? Who could have expected to come burgling without resistance on his part?

Burgling? No. Nothing was gone, nothing bothered, save his communicator. The only thing that made sense at all was that someone had known he wasn’t in his rooms and had entered deliberately to find and destroy his communicator.

And there was just one hole in that theory. The sophisticated communication device was not even known to exist outside the bounds of his own department, and his department was a close-knit, dedicated outfit, far beyond all others in UP.

Guy Thomas had had too much tossed at him in the past twenty-four hours. He threw himself, face down, on his bed. He was asleep in moments. He awoke surprisingly rejuvenated, at half-past eight. He made his way into the elaborate refresher room, shedding his slept-in clothing as he went and was fully under the spray before allowing himself to dwell on the past and the future.

The past twenty-four hours bewildered him, and after only a quick mental review, he refused to dwell further on what had developed. He had too much to consider in the future.

When he had allowed the refresher to bathe, shave, trim his hair and massage him to glowing pinkness, he issued forth and began opening closets and drawers in search of fresh local raiment. He assumed that they had outfitted him with a supply and found he was correct.

In slipping into a tunic, he tried for a time to adjust the shoulder in the manner that Podner Bates had his. It didn’t work. The tuck was built in. He was going to have to remain a potential prey to any Amazon on the prowl.

Dressed, he went over to the orderbox which sat on the table next to his bed and flicked on the switch. He noted that the instrument was almost identical to those on Earth or on any of the other most advanced worlds. The Amazonians, obviously, kept up with developments. He was again impressed.

He said into it, “My breakfast, please, and if Bachelor Bates is available, could he come to my rpom?” And then he added, “Are there newspapers?”

“No, Bachelor Thomas.”

“Well, how do I tune on newscasts? What’s the drill for getting the news?”

“I do not understand what you mean by news, Bachelor Thomas,” the orderbox said. The voice was feminine, he noticed. Or what passed for feminine on this forsaken planet.

“New, news,” he said, surprised. “The day’s developments on Amazonia and throughout United Planets, for that matter. Political events, scientific developments, sports results, fires, wrecks, air and spacecraft crackups if any, criminal cases, that sort of thing. News.”

There was a pause. After a moment, the orderbox said, “We are sorry, there is no such service on Amazonia, Bachelor Thomas. Such material is issued in weekly magazines and submitted to those involved.” The voice faded away, leaving him taken aback.

In all his career, he had never even heard of a planet which had no method of dispensing fresh news. He shook his head. Could the Amazonians be so self-satisfied with themselves and their way of life that they had no interest in interplanetary affairs? But even so, they’d certainly want to know of the developments on their own world. It was just one more for the book, from a culture that had already surprised him beginning at chapter one.

Podner Bates arrived with the breakfast, which was pushed into the room on a small cart powered by a youth of perhaps eighteen. A youth who giggled. Evidently, he found Guy Thomas almost unbearably amusing. The hell with it, Guy decided. He waited until the giggler left.

Podner said archly, “Well, darling, did we spend a restful night, finally?”

Guy, even as he shot a disdainful glare at the other, sat down to his food. Bachelor Bates was the prime suspect, so far as the burgling of his room was concerned. If it hadn’t been for the mystery of the earlier assassination attempt, which he didn’t think Bates could have possibly pulled off, and which he suspected was connected with the robbery, he would have accused him outright.

“Have some coffee,” he said. “That is coffee, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes, but I never touch it, darling. I’ve heard its simply terrible for the complexion, and a boy my age has to watch himself, you know.”

Guy grunted. There was enough food on the table for a squad of men his size. What was undoubtedly a citrus fruit drink, eggs, sausages, enormous slices of bacon, bread, toast, rolls, various jellies, coffee and cream. Evidently, he decided, the early colonists of Amazonia hadn’t depended on local flora and fauna but had brought both animals and plants from Earth. There had been some adapting to the new world, but the food was still highly recognizable. There was an extremely delicate, nutty taste to the bacon. Gourmets would have drooled over it back on Earth.

Guy downed a sizeable glass of citrus juice and began to load his plate. After yesterday’s activity, he was famished. He said to Podner, who was eyeing him tolerantly, “I don’t know when the major’s going to turn up but until she does, I’d appreciate it if you’d brief me on the workings of Amazonia.”

“But, I’d love to, darling. Just what would you like to know?”

“Just about everything, damn it. The longer I’m here, the less I seem to understand. I tried to study up on your world before I left Earth but just about everything I could find now seems worthless.”

“Dear boy, I’d gladly tell you everything, but I simply wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Start with history,” Guy said around a bite of eggs. He wondered if they were hen eggs, decided they probably were. Man had taken the hen with him, as he had the pig and cow, to just about every world that would support his life form. A luxury, but one invariably indulged in.

Podner shifted in his easy chair, delicately. “Well, dear, I suppose a history of Amazonia begins on Earth as does the ultimate history of any settled planet.”

Guy said, trying the sausage, “Lets hurry along, the major might be here any time.”

“Of course, darling,” Podner fluttered a hand. “I’m such an old ditherer. Well, as you undoubtedly know, the Amazon story is part history, part legend, party myth.”

“I thought it was all myth.”

“Then you were mistaken,” the other said primly. “The Greek legends and myths are based on the existence of arms-bearing priestesses of the Moon Goddess, the White Goddess, along the southern coast of the Black Sea. They continued far into the period when the Doric Greeks had swept the Goddess worshiping Pelasgians from Greece proper and had instituted patrilineal descent and rule by men. These tribes were at their most powerful along the Thermodon river where Queen Lysippe built the city Themiscyra.”

“Lysippe?” Guy interrupted, “that’s the name of one of my guards.”

“Of course, dear boy. All the warriors and most men take their names from antiquity. Myth tells us that the Amazons established a considerable empire in Asia Minor and up into the Caucasians and beyond, north of the Black Sea.” Podner made a moue. “However, the truth probably is that this is myth alone. By the time Homer and the other bards came on the scene, the tradition of the arms-bearing preistesses was confused with heroic tales of warrior women who seared off one breast so they could shoot their bows better, and who supposedly invented the use of cavalry in battle. Actually, you know, the name Amazon is derived from a and mazon meaning without breasts. Silly, of course.”

“Ummm,” Guy said, pouring more coffee.

“The stories that come down to us are largely nonsense. Heracles being sent by Eurystheus to fetch the golden girdle of Hippolyte, the queen of the Amazons. Among other things, of course, the institution of queens and kings was unknown at that time. Society hadn’t developed to that point. War chiefs, head priests and other tribal officials were evolving, but the conception of a king or queen had yet to show itself.”

Guy took in the other. Podner Bates didn’t sound quite as flighty as first impression might have indicated. He wondered again how deep the other’s waters ran. And what purpose he might possibly have had in searching Guy’s rooms for his communicator—a device the Amazonians supposedly didn’t even know existed—and destroying it.

“The stories are confusing,” Podner sighed. “Some say that Hippolyte gave the brute Heracles her girdle and war ax, after falling in love with him. Some say that Heracles killed her and took the girdle and then had to fight off her followers. Still others claim that Theseus captured Hippolyte and gave the belt to Heracles.”

Guy said impatiently, “All this isn’t very important. Lets get down to modern times.”

“Just one other thing. In antiquity,” Podner said, fluttering a hand, “there were two groups of Amazons, you know. One based on the Black Sea, the other in Lybia. The Lybians were also based on history, the actuality of arms-bearing priestesses of the Moon Goddess, Artimis. Their most famous queen was Myrine who fought the Atlantis soldiery near Lake Tritonis in northern Africa, which was, of course, considerably more fertile in those days. She beat them and built up a considerable empire in Africa, Asia Minor and even some of the Aegean Sea islands. All nonsense, of course.

“However, there is one interesting bit that has come down to us. The Phrygian blessing, which was originally given in Myrine’s name, involved finger magic, and calling upon the three Idaean Dactyls, or fingers, who supposedly dispensed doom. One Dactyl represented the middle finger, Heracles was the thumb and the third Dactyl was the index finger. These three raised, while the fourth and little finger are turned down, made the Phrygian blessing. One of the Christian sects still use it in the name of the Christian Trinity.”

“What’s all this got to do with here and now?” Guy said.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I do dither, so. I was just trying to give you the background for present day Amazonia. We have the two continents, Paphlagonia, with this, or capital city, on the river Thermodon, which carries on the traditions of the old Hippolyte’s realm, and the continent Lybia, with its capital Chersonesus, which carries on those of Myrine.”

“Why all the jetsam?” Guy was wiping his mouth with his napkin.

Podner Bates made a gesture with his limp hand. “Oh, you know how it is with social movements. When the founders of this colony were recruiting the woman necessary to populate the new world, they needed all sorts of slogans and symbols. Since they were so staunchly feminists, what better symbols could they have used than the ancient Amazons? Frankly, darling, I think they’ve done remarkably well at this sort of thing. It’s really quite inspiring, all the pomp and parade and all. The youngsters just eat it up. Traditions are very necessary, I’ve always said, the very backbone of a culture.”

Guy looked at him wryly, “How about the boys? Do they eat it up too? All these traditions of women warriors and a women-dominated society?”

The other’s eyes were wide. “But of course. I’ll never forget sitting at my father’s knee, thrilling to his account of the warriors of the past and the desperate battles the heroines fought against the treacherous Greeks who came to destroy society as the Moon Goddess had so long directed it, and change women into slaves.”

Guy Thomas began to open his mouth, but shook his, head and held his peace. The hell with it.

He said suddenly, instead, “Look, don’t the men ever react against this situation? Hasn’t there ever been revolt? You know, the men trying to establish the same sort of setup that exists on Earth and most, if not all, the other planets the human race inhabits.”

“Good heavens,” Podner gasped. “You mustn’t say such things.”

“Why not? I’m just asking for information. Isn’t there any sort of masculine underground? Some sort of revolutionary organization that would like to turn society upside down and make men, if not superior, at least equal to women?”

Podner made a motion as though to hold his hands over his ears. “Oh, dear boy, you don’t know what you’re saying. The Goddess would never permit such a sacrilege. Women are the natural superiors of man. It says so in the holy books.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Guy said grimly. “I never heard of a holy book that didn’t support the powers that be. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” Podner said primly, “you can just be sure there is no such organization. We men, here on Amazonia, know our place.” He added, archly, “Whether or not they do on other worlds, where the natural nature of things has been subverted…”

Of a sudden, Guy Thomas had a surfeit of the other. “Aw curd,” he growled. “Get out, will you? I’ve got to get ready for the major.”

Podner was on his feet, his lips a thin white line. “My dear boy…”

“And stop calling me a boy! You make me sound like a molly.”

“Well…well…!”

In a huff, Podner Bates swept out of the room.

Guy rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered aloud. “Poor cloddy.”

He brought his two guns from beneath the bed’s pillows and considered them. There was no reason to believe he was going to be allowed into the presence of the Hippolyte armed, and he didn’t dare leave the weapons here. For all he knew, the suite would be shaken down again, the moment he left.

He brought his tool kit out once more, took his original gun apart and disposed of it by reuniting the four parts with pseudo-tools,, as they had originally been.

He then went to the window, opened it and looked out with care. He could see no one near enough to make any difference. He tossed the weapon he had captured the night before into a heavy bush in the garden below.

He closed the window again and returned to the table to see if there was a final cup of coffee. He needed time to think, and doubted if he was going to get it.

He didn’t. The major’s face was on his door screen within minutes.

She was brisk. She hurried through the usual amenities of bidding him good morning and asking after his rest, and then indicated that time was wasting.

“Will I need my tool kit?”

She scowled down at it. “I wouldn’t think so. You’re going to meet the Hippolyte and her advisers.”

He followed her out of the suite and down the stairs to the entry. It occured to him that thus far he had seen none of the inhabitants of this bachelor’s sanctuary save Podner Bates and the boy who had wheeled in the breakfast tray this morning. That had strange aspects, there were a good many apartments in the place. Was he being kept secluded?

Clete and Lysippe were awaiting them on the sidewalk before the sanctuary, both gave him a leering grin.

Clete said, “Morning, Sweety. You know, I think you looked prettier in that over-space men’s suit you wore on the Schirra.”

“Knock it,” Guy muttered at her.

“My,” Lysippe said, “our boy’s in a nasty temper today. And he seemed like such a nice inoffensive tad, up there on the ship, He must’ve been on his party manners.”

“Shut up,” the major rapped, “and let’s get going.”

There was a sudden shuffling noise and all turned.

Around the corner of the sanctuary darted a figure. It was obviously a woman, although she held her military cloak up about her face.

She came running hard, full at them.

Instinctively, Guy Thomas’ hand darted for his belt. There was nothing there. His gun was upstairs!

His three guards had gone on beyond him, opening the doors of the hovercar, the major beginning to slip into the seat. He was nearest to the newcomer.

She began to shout, “I thee…”

“Holy Jumping Zen!” Guy blurted. He took off like a shot, around the car, the woman pounding after him.

“Hey!” Clete yelled.

“Hands off, you cloddy!” Lysippe shouted. She tore for her gun, and managed to foul it in its holster in her attempt at speed.

The major, half in, half out, of the hovercar, stood paralyzed, her eyes goggling.

Guy completely rounded the car and headed desperately for the garden where he began dodging in and around rose bushes, the Amazon warrior immediately behind.

He had been the better part of a month on the Schirra, a month in which he had gotten precious little exercise. Besides that, the air seemed just a bit thinner on this world than he was used to on his home planet. He didn’t seem to be achieving the speed of which he should have been capable.

Lysippe was bringing up the rear, trying to catch the newcomer before that desperate female was able to lay hand on her charge.

In the background the major was shouting in wrath.

From the side of his eyes, even as he darted, Guy Thomas could see Clete, holding her sides and leaning up against the sanctuary wall, screaming laughter.

Some joke!

He scooted around a bush, headed back for the entrance of the building. He didn’t know exactly what the word sanctuary added up to, in this case, but there was a good chance it meant warriors, husband bent, weren’t allowed to enter. Perhaps all marriage rules were off where Podner Bates and his fellow bachelors resided.

He slid on the gravel and went asprawl. And didn’t bother to attempt to recover. He closed his eyes in surrender. He’d had it. He waited for the hand on shoulder, the dreaded I thee take!

More shouting and more uncontrolled laughter. That last from Clete, of course. Some guard!

He opened his eyes carefully to take in developments. Lysippe had evidently grasped the newcomer around the waist and was holding her, whilst the major came storming up, massacre in eye.

She faced Lysippe and her prisoner, hands dangerously on hips.

“Minythyia!” she blurted, enraged.

Lysippe released her grip and Minythyia shrugged her cloak back around her shoulders.

“You can’t blame a warrior for trying,” she said defiantly. He’s the cutest trick I’ve ever seen.”

“Is this your idea of a joke!” the major snapped dangerously.

“Joke?”

“You know how important it is that this funker of a man clear the way for interplanetary trade with Avalon!”

Minythyia twisted her full mouth stubbornly. Under other circumstances, far different circumstances, Guy Thomas would have thought of her as a far from unattractive girl, and certainly most suitable to take out on a freewheeling date with intentions of making such headway as was possible. But the very thought made him groan now.

She was saying, “Oh, he could finish all that jetsam right here on Amazonia. He wouldn’t have to leave. He could handle our end of it here, and we could send a representative to Avalon to take care of the other end.”

The major said coldly, “That isn’t the way the Hippolyte and her advisers have decided to do it.”

Minythyia growled, still stubbornly, “You know nardy well as soon as he gets into that slew of sex maniacs that hang out at the palace, he won’t last minutes before one claims him. And even Hippolyte can’t interfere with the marriage laws of Artimis.”

Guy groaned dispair as he came to his feet, brushing a skinned knee.

Clete hustled him into the car, still chuckling, whilst the major and Lysippe, taking no chances, stood between him and the deep breathing Minythyia who still eyed him, half desperately, half wistfully.