Sweat burst from Joel's face. He expected to be rayed down any moment.
He said, "Tamis was my contact. I have information--vital information."
He could scent the Ganelons closing in. Eriss was staring at him with
flaming yellow-gray eyes.
"What sort of information?" he demanded.
Joel said, "Mutants are in control of all government posts. True
mutants. They are fighting for the same things that the Ganelons are.
Freedom!
"You've organized the worst elements among us, the unbalanced, the
criminally insane. You've helped them to devise weapons, given them
unlimited power. They'll turn on you in the end, ferret you out...."
A frown was gathering on Walt Eriss' forehead. He glanced a question at
his lieutenants. They shrugged.
Joel saw that they were about to catch on. He said quickly, "Governor
Cameron and a party of mutants have barricaded themselves in the
palace. They want to arbitrate. Relay message. This is Joel Hakkyt.
Contact Tamis. She will verify...."
"By George!" roared Eriss. "He's communicating with the Ganelons!"
He leaped to his feet, sending the deal table over with a crash, struck
Joel in the mouth. "Take him off and ray him!"
The blow knocked Joel sprawling. He scrambled to his feet, his head
ringing. Two men seized him by the arms. But Eriss wheeled back.
"Wait," said the ex-surgeon. He gave Joel a shrewd look. "Any more
information?"
Joel stared at him with hot furious eyes. He didn't say anything.
Eriss laughed harshly. "So that was all. You've finished your spiel,
eh? You're harmless." He turned to the men who were holding Joel's
arms. "I've changed my mind. Take him into the jungle and stake him out
for the nigel trees. There's a herd of 'em in the neighborhood."
And he burst into laughter.
* * * * *
The heat in that forest of fetid grotesqueries was like the atmosphere
of an orchid house. Joel was bathed in sweat as the serfs manacled him
to a tree trunk.
He could tell by their actions that they were frightened. They kept
their voices down, glanced nervously over their shoulders. The minute
they finished, they crashed away through the thick underbrush toward
the distant sounds of Walt Eriss' headquarters.
Joel's nerves were taut as fiddle strings. He didn't know whether his
message had gotten through to the Thinkers. He could feel small snaky
tendrils pluck at his tunic, brush against his bare legs.
There was a rustling noise behind him.
He lunged in panic. The manacles cut into his wrists, bloodied them.
He was like a goat staked out to bait a tiger. A sinuous vine wrapped
itself about his waist, tightened.
It was like the coil of a boa constrictor, thick as his thigh, tough as
cable. It wrenched him against his manacles until he thought his arms
were going to be torn out at the sockets.
He squirmed helplessly. Then he caught sight of the plant that had
snared him--the thick flesh-colored trunk, the crown of writhing
tentacles. It exuded the odor of carbolic add. The pool of digestive
acid glinted deep within its maw.
Nigel tree! He was caught by a carnivorous nigel tree!
Then, unexpectedly Joel felt the tentacles relax. He leaned gasping,
choking against the trunk of the tree to which he was manacled. He was
dazed from shock.