The planter leaned forward, tapped him on the knee. "That bird. The
Giant Ormoo. Oh yes, I know how you escaped from the roof last night.
Yes sir, and very neat, too." He beamed amiably. "I want to know where
the Ormoos feed."
Cosmo sat back in surprise.
"Why?"
"That's my secret," said the beefy planter. "Yes sir, that's my secret.
But I'm a business man, Cosmo. Show me where the Ormoo feeds, and I'll
make it worth your while."
"Five thousand monad," Cosmo hazarded.
Bemmelman didn't blink an eye. "Five thousand monad," he agreed.
* * * * *
Cosmo sat back, his face blank. The planter, he realized, had no more
idea of paying him five thousand monad than he had of adopting him.
He'd agreed to the preposterous sum too readily. Cosmo's green eyes
hardened.
"And suppose I refuse."
"But you won't. You can't. No sir. If you refused, I'll be forced to
kill you and trace the bird myself."
"The devil you will." Cosmo could feel sweat starting from his
forehead. "That bird's savage as a tiger. You've already tried to trace
it to its feeding ground, haven't you? That's why you planted a spy
among my men, wasn't it?"
"Yes sir," Bemmelman admitted with a sigh. "I don't mind telling you he
was supposed to find out what and where the bird ate. But it damn near
tore him to pieces."
Cosmo didn't say anything.
Bemmelman leaned forward, tapped his knee again. "Unfortunately, the
birds are rare as the dodo. I've spent quite a bit of money trying to
locate another. The only one that's been caught is in the Solar Apiary
on Earth."
Mention of the Ormoo in the Solar Apiary stirred Cosmo's memory. He
stared at Bemmelman with narrowed eyes. The Ormoo in its wild state
matured to its full size in a few months. The one which the Terran
expedition had secured, hadn't reached adulthood until its nineteenth
year. The discrepancy had been puzzling ornithologists ever since.
Theories had flooded the scientific journals, but to date, no one had
explained satisfactorily why a wild Ormoo should mature over twenty
times as fast as the same bird in captivity.
"Well?" Bemmelman rubbed his nose, his eyelids drooping.
"If I show you where the Ormoo feeds, what guarantee have I that you'll
carry out your side of the bargain?"
"Just my word," said Bemmelman with a chuckle. "Just my word."
Two rouge-like spots sprang out on Cosmo's cheek bones. He came halfway
erect in his chair.
"No violence, please." The planter held up his hand. "Look behind you."
Cosmo turned his head. The two Jovian primitives were crouched to
spring. He sank back in his chair, managed a tight grin. His lips felt
dry, his stomach hollow.
"I don't think you appreciate your position, Cosmo," said the planter
silkily. "No sir, I don't." He heaved himself from his chair with a
grunt. "I've something to show you. Come with me."
The two Jovian Dawn Men fell in beside Cosmo again as he trailed the
planter down three steps, along a short corridor to a sunken court.
Bemmelman paused, pointed to a huge wooden cross in the center of the
court.
"You weren't depending on him, were you," he smirked.
Cosmo felt his blood run cold. His fists clenched until the nails bit
into the flesh.
The body of Penang-ihtok hung from the cross. The outcast Fozoql had
been crucified upside down.
"You see," said Bemmelman, his voice heavy with assurance; "how futile
it is to oppose me."
Cosmo turned away from the cross with its grisly burden. He looked
coldly, speculatively at Bemmelman's beefy smiling face. At the look,
fright glimmered in the planter's eyes. He made a quick gesture to the
Jovians who seized Cosmo by either arm.
"Take him away," he ordered. "We'll talk it over tomorrow."
Cosmo was conducted into a plainly, but comfortably furnished room.
One of the blue giants immediately stretched himself on the sofa and
went to sleep. The other, though, took a stance by the door, folded his
arms, regarded Cosmo with the unwinking stare of an idol. Obviously,
the Jovian primitives intended to spell each other.
With a grunt of annoyance, Cosmo retreated into the bathroom. He had
grossly underestimated Bemmelman, he realized with chagrin. A malignant
genius, the slave breeder had no more scruples than his Dawn Men.
Cosmo heard a soft step behind him, whirled around. His Jovian guard
was standing placidly just within the door.
"Damn," he snapped, nerves jangling. "I'm not going to crawl out the
drain."
The blue giant never changed expression by so much as a flicker.
Cosmo got a grip on himself, shot the giant his flashing grin. "What's
the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
He stripped off coat and trousers, hung them carefully over the
Jovian's shoulder, stepped under the shower.
Considerably refreshed, he returned to his sleeping chamber, crawled
raw into the huge bed. But sleep escaped him. That stark cross, the
body illuminated by the radiations of the lichens and mosses, persisted
in thrusting itself before his eyes. He clenched his fists, trembled in
an agony of impotent fury. Somehow, he'd trip up Bemmelman, smash his
disgusting racket.
* * * * *
Cosmo awakened in the huge bed, sweating with terror. The echo of some
nameless horror still rang in his ears. He saw the Dawn Man, motionless
as a statue, watching him with animal patience. Then he heard it again.
It was a girl's scream. It reached him faintly. It went on and on. He
leaped out of bed, tugged on his trousers.
The Dawn Man sprang across the room to intercept him. Cosmo seized a
metal chair, swung it with the same movement. It caught the blue giant
on his head and shoulders. The blow would have felled an ox. The Jovian
folded onto the carpet, lay still. Cosmo thought he must be dead.
The second Jovian primitive jumped from the sofa at the crash. He had
awakened like an animal. With a low snarl, he leaped for Cosmo.
Cosmo ducked under his first rush, crashed the chair down on the back
of his head. The giant staggered groggily, but didn't go down.
Cosmo measured the distance, walloped him again. The second blue giant
went over like a falling tree.
Without stopping for coat or shoes, Cosmo hurtled into the hall. The
screaming had been silenced. The building was quiet as a deserted
church.
He set out at a lope in the direction of the tower where Mia was
confined. That had been Mia screaming, he was sure. He'd recognized the
timbre of her voice.
His heart thudding, he reached a stair, took the steps two at a time.
It bent sharply to the left, went up another flight. He must be in the
tower itself. The silence was oppressive. He wished fervently he had a
dart gun, a ray projector, anything that would serve as a weapon. The
steps continued to wind upward.
Gasping for breath, he reached the fifth level. From beneath a door
seeped a crack of light. He sniffed. A peculiar odor impinged on his
nostrils. Then he heard Bemmelman's rough voice like the rasp of iron.
"That's done. Take her to the slave pens."
Cosmo's heart contracted. A blinding rage swept him. He'd been too late.
He rammed the door with his shoulder. It burst open as if exploded. For
a second he was poised in the doorway, big, rangy, naked to the waist,
his hands hooked like claws, his nostrils distended.
Without a word, he leaped on Bemmelman.
The planter was standing beside an operating table upon which Mia
MacIver was strapped. He fell back a step, raised his arm in a gesture
of defense.
Cosmo's rush bowled him over backward. He tried to scramble to his
feet, but Cosmo was on him like a cat on a mouse. Time after time, he
drove his fist into the planter's face. A blinding rage shook him to
the marrow.
As if from a distance, he heard Mia scream again.
"Cosmo! Look out behind you!"
He swung off the insensible Bemmelman, twisted to his feet. He saw
Llana, the Terran slave girl, directly behind him. Her arm was
upraised, her fist clutching a needle like dagger. With a sob, she
plunged it downward toward his heaving chest.
Cosmo caught her wrist in a grip of iron, tore the dagger from her
fingers. Contemptuously, he tossed the girl into a corner of the room,
turned to Mia.
"Mia, are you all right?"
She gave a sob of relief. "Yes, yes! But get me out of this iron lung
before I pass out."
He fumbled hastily at the clamps. Her hair was tumbled. One shoulder of
her tattered yellow tunic had been torn down to her stomach. He paused
suddenly, his eyes dilating.
There was an angry red scar above Mia's left breast. He realized what
the smell on the landing outside the tower room had been. It was the
odor of burning flesh.
Mia MacIver had been branded!