Mia MacIver tried to concentrate on her head overseer's report. She
felt hot and sticky and the figures ran together, didn't make sense.
Moreover, the delicate notes of a flute kept scattering her thoughts.
They came through the casement window from the patio outside her study.
"Damn," said Mia MacIver and wriggled at her desk.
She was barefooted, clad only in a short yellow tunic, but she felt
as if she were locked in a steam bath. She'd never get used to Venus,
she supposed, to its turkish bath atmosphere, its lush phosphorescent
vegetation, its ridiculous mingling of periods, Paleozoic, Mesozoic,
and the glass age all flourishing together. The Pan-like notes
continued to assail her ears from outside the study.
She wrinkled her nose, wiped a trickle of sweat from the end. In
despair, she flipped on the Newscaster.
The features of a plump young man flashed on the screen.
"Last night," his voice came through the audio, "the plantation of
Councillor Bemmelman was raided by the Renegade. Luckily, he was
discovered immediately and the Security Patrol notified. But as usual
the Renegade had vanished without a trace."
Mia MacIver snapped to attention. It was absurd, she felt with a surge
of anger that a man could make fools of the Venusian authorities as the
Renegade had done for years.
She knew little of Venus. Her life had been spent in boarding schools
on Earth. But when she'd received news that her father was dead,
murdered by the Renegade, she'd booked passage to Venusport at once,
determined to manage the plantation herself.
"Here's a special bulletin," the announcer was saying. "The plantation
owners are subscribing ten thousand monads to be added to the price
already on the Renegade's head. That makes a total of fifty thousand
monads for his capture. A punitive expedition is also being organized
against his headquarters in the Cloud Mountains."
Mia MacIver switched off the Newscaster, stood up. The notes of the
pipes drifted into her study, exotic, compelling. She bit her lip,
stepped through the window onto the vine roofed patio.
"Stop that noise, Cosmo! You're driving me insane!"
Cosmo Horn took the Venusian pipes from his mouth, said dryly, "I
didn't think I was that bad."
He was sprawled in a hammock, looking like a handsome, rather
distinguished tramp.
"Did you hear the Newscaster, Cosmo?"
"No." He shook his head. He had a lean, hawk-like visage, close cropped
brown hair, green eyes.
"The Renegade was at the Bemmelman plantation last night!"
"Sure enough?"
Cosmo sat up, put the reeds in his pocket. He was wearing only coat and
trousers. The brown triangle of hair on his chest extended in a thin
line down his flat belly. "How much did he nick that dealer in flesh
for?"
"Nothing. They scared him off before he had a chance to take anything.
Cosmo, why can't they catch him?"
"No one's seen him without his hood. They don't know who he is; they
don't know where to look, or what to look for."
"On Earth ..." began Mia.
"On Earth there wouldn't be a Renegade," interrupted Cosmo dryly.
"Earth is unified. It isn't split up into hundreds of independent
countries like Venus. They don't have slavery or serfdom or the feudal
system on Earth. Men aren't driven into outlawry...."
"Driven!" said Mia in a heated voice. "What makes you think he was
driven? I'd say he was doing exactly as he pleased."
Cosmo stood up, towering over the girl, took several short paces across
the patio.
"I don't think anyone would enjoy being constantly hunted. Everyman's
hand against him. Always on guard against treachery, surprise. And no
matter how careful he is, sooner or later he's bound to be caught. He
can't even quit, now. I feel sorry for him."
"Feel sorry for him! I'd like to see him shot!"
* * * * *
Cosmo looked startled. "You're a blood-thirsty little devil." He
grinned suddenly. "What I've been saying must have buzzed in one ear
and out the other."