John Willard set a brisk pace through the streets of First Haven, as
befitted a conscientious public servant. Maria Ringstad kept up with
him as best she could. When she lagged, the thin cord tightened around
her wrist, and he grumbled over his shoulder at her. Naturally, she
carried her bag.
He had explained that they would have been most inconspicuous with her
walking properly a yard behind him. Anyone would then have taken them
for man and wife or man and servant--had it not been for her Terran
clothing.
"To walk the street with you in that rig would attract entirely too
much attention," was his explanation. "The only thing we can do is use
the public symbol of restraint, so that everyone will know you are a
prisoner."
"What good will that do? Won't they still stare."
"It is considered improper, as well as imprudent. No law-abiding
citizen would wish to risk being suspected of a sympathetic curiosity
about a transgressor."
"You make it sound dangerous," said Maria, holding out her hand
obediently.
_Anything to be inconspicuous_, she had thought.
Now, turning a corner about three hundred yards from the jail, she had
to admit that the system seemed to be working. The Greenies whom they
met were nearly all interested in other things: a shop in the vicinity,
another Greenie across the street, a paving stone over which they had
just tripped, or the condition of the wall above Maria's head.
Willard led her to the far side of a broader avenue after they had
negotiated the corner that put them permanently out of sight of the
jail. Maria tried to recall the scanty information he had whispered to
her against the outside wall of the prison.
There had been time for him to tell her he was sent by the Department
of Interstellar Relations of Terra to get her out, since it had proved
impossible to alter the attitude of the Greenie legal authorities.
Maria was not quite sure whether he was really the prison officer he
said he was, in which case he must have been bribed on a scale to make
her own "crime" ridiculous, or whether he was an independent worker
friendly to the Terran space line, in which case the payment might more
charitably be regarded as a fee.
She knew that he planned to deliver her to a spaceship due to leave
shortly. There had been no opportunity for her to ask the destination.
_To tell the truth_, she reflected, _I don't care where it is. Anything
would be a haven from Greenhaven!_
She began to amuse herself by planning the article she would write
when back on Terra. "How I escaped from Paradise" might do it. Or
"Prison-breaking in Paradise." Or perhaps "Greenhaven or Green Hell."
_Whatever I call it_, she promised herself, _I'll skin them alive. And
I'll find a way to send the judge and the warden copies of it, too!_
Maybe, she pondered, it might even be better to stretch it out to a
whole book and get someone to do a series of unflattering cartoons of
Greenie characters.
The cord jerked at her wrist. She realized that she had fallen behind
again, and made an apologetic face at Willard when he looked back.
"Don't do that!" he hissed. "They'll wonder why I tolerate disrespect."
"Sorry!" said Maria, shrugging unrepentantly. "You take this pretty
seriously, don't you."
"You'd better take it seriously yourself," he growled. "It's your neck
as much as mine!"
He glared at a young Greenie who had glanced curiously from the
opposite side of the avenue. The abashed citizen hastily averted his
eyes. Willard gave the cord a significant twitch and strode on.
They turned another corner, to the right this time, and went along a
narrow side street for about two hundred yards. Waiting for a moment
when he might meet as few people as possible, Willard crossed to the
other side. A little further on, he led the way into what could almost
be termed an alley.
Willard stopped.
"Now, we are going into this small food shop," he informed Maria. "You
would call it a cafe or restaurant on Terra. It will seem normal enough
for an officer to provide his charge with food for a journey, so that
will be reasonable."
"Is the food any better than what I've been getting?" asked Maria.
"It doesn't matter. We won't stop there, since it would be impolite to
inflict the sight of you upon honest citizens at their meal. I shall
request a private room, and the keeper will lead us to the rear."
"Humph! Well if that's the way it is, then that's the way it is. So in
the eyes of an honest Greenie I'm something to spoil his appetite. What
can I do about that?"
"What you can do is keep that big, flexible, active mouth of yours
_shut_!" declared Willard. "Otherwise, I shall simply drop the end of
the cord and take off. You can find your own way out."
"I'm sorry," apologized Maria, a shade too meekly. "I promise I'll be
oh-so-good. Do you want me to kneel down and lick your boots? Or will
it be enough if I open a vein in the soup?"
"It will be enough if I get out of this without committing murder,"
mumbled Willard. "Now, the expression is fine; just wipe that grin off
your mind and well go in!"
He pulled her along the few yards to the entrance of the food shop.
He opened the door and entered. Maria followed at the respectful
distance.
There were half a dozen Greenies eating plain, wholesome meals at
plain, sturdy tables and exchanging a plain, honest word now and then.
The sight of the cord on Maria's wrist counterbalanced the sight of her
lascivious Terran costume, and they kept their eyes on their food after
one startled glance.
A Greenie woman stood at a counter at one side of the food shop, and
Willard made known his desire for a private dining room. A man cooking
something that might have been stew looked around from his labor at a
massive but primitive stove to the rear of the counter. Maria thought
that he took an unusual interest in her compared to what she had been
observing recently. It rather helped her morale, and she thought she
did not blame the man if the counterwoman were his wife.
The latter now came from behind her little fortress and led the way to
a door at the rear of the shop. Willard followed, and Maria trailed
along, restraining an impulse to wink at the cook. She was conscious of
his analytical stare until the door had closed behind her.
Willard seemed to have nothing to say to the Greenie woman, and Maria
relented to the point of heeding his request to be silent. All this
made for a solemn little procession.
They walked along a short hall, and the Greenie woman opened another
door to a flight of stairs. What surprised Maria was that the stairs
led down. She shrugged--on Greenhaven, they had their own peculiar ways.
She was more puzzled when, at the bottom of the steps, they seemed to
be in an ordinary cellar. The light was dim, and she did not succeed in
catching the look on Willard's face. She began to wonder if she might
wind up buried under a basement floor while he spent his ill-gotten
bribe.
Then the Greenie woman pulled aside a large crate and opened another
door. To pass through this one, they all had to stoop. Marie realized
that they were then in the cellar of another building. The blocks of
stone forming the walls looked damp and dirty.
They proceeded to climb stairs again, and to traverse another hall.
Maria thought they ended up going in a direction away from the street.
The woman led them through a small, dark series of rooms, and finally
into one with windows set too high in the walls to see out. There she
halted and faced Willard.
The Greenie prison official dropped the cord and reached into an inner
pocket of his drab uniform. He withdrew a thick packet of Greenhaven
currency. The numbers and units were too unfamiliar for Maria to guess
at the value from one quick glance; but the attitude of their hostess
suggested that it was substantial. Willard handed it over. Maria
decided it was time to set down her bag.
The woman went immediately to a large chest in a corner of the room and
opened it. She set aside a mirror she took out of the chest, then began
to pull out other objects. There was a case which she handed to Willard
and a great many articles of clothing that were probably considered
feminine on this world.
"The point is," Willard said in low tones, "you are going to have to
have proper clothes to look natural on the street. See if that dress
will fit you."
Maria took the thing distastefully, but it looked to be about the right
length when she held it up against her. The Greenie woman nodded. She
added a sort of full-length flannel slip and a petticoat to the dress.
"Now I know why the Greenie women look so grim," said Maria. "It would
be almost worth dying to stay out of such a rig."
"Hold your tongue!" said Willard.
Maria made a face.
"Present company excepted, of course!" she added.
"Change!" ordered Willard. "We have no time to waste."
He took the mirror and the small case to a rude table under one of
the windows. He opened the box so that Maria caught a glimpse of the
contents, which looked like an actor's make-up kit.
The Greenie woman joggled Maria's elbow and spoke for the first time.
"I must not be long, or it will be noticed," she hinted.
"Give her your clothes to burn and get into the others," said Willard,
bending over the table with his back to her. "As soon as I get myself
fixed here, I'll change your face too."
Maria looked about in a manner to suggest that she hoped they knew what
they were doing. The Greenie woman waited. Maria reached up and began
to unbutton her blouse.
She dropped it across her bag. The woman picked both of them up, and
waited. She looked a trifle shocked at the sight of the thin slip when
Maria unzipped her skirt and hauled it over her head. By the time the
slip followed, she was standing with downcast eyes.
Maria eyed the broad back in the drab uniform as she unfastened
her brassiere. This would make a good story someday, but to tell
it in the wrong company might be to invite catty remarks about her
attractiveness. She could think of other men who might not have kept
their backs so rigidly turned as did Willard. It was almost provocative.
She slipped down the brief panties, stepped out of them, and handed
them over. The Greenie woman pointed silently to the shoes. Marie
kicked them off, and they were added to the pile. She hoped that
whatever was in the chest for footwear would not be too hard to walk in.
The Greenie woman thrust the flannel atrocity at her and left the room
hastily. Maria watched the door close softly, then held the garment
out at arm's length. It did not look any better. She took a few steps
toward Willard.
_I'll bet I could make him faint dead away_, she thought
mischievously. _I'd love to see the look on his face if ... well, why
not? I will!_
"She's gone," she announced in a low voice. "How do I get into this
thing?"
Willard looked around, and the look was nothing she had ever seen
before. His face appeared fuller in the cheeks, his eyebrows were black
and heavy, his nose high at the bridge, and his whole complexion was
darker.
He nodded at her gasp.
"Those papers I turned in for you won't last too long. The estimate is
that they will dissolve before tomorrow morning, but they just might
come apart sooner. If he sends out an alarm, I don't want to be on the
streets in shape to be recognized."
"That's wonderful!" said Maria enthusiastically. "Are you going to make
me up too?"
"Yes," said Willard. "Get into those things so I can start!"
Maria watched his eyes flicker to her breasts and then sweep down the
rest of her body. She thought he was taking it very well, unless it was
the make-up.
"Will you help me with this thing?" she begged. "I never saw one
before."
She held out the flannel garment with a helpless smile, planting the
other hand on her bare hip.
"_Will_ you quit teasing, you little bitch!" Willard snapped. "I'm no
Greenie, if that's what you thought. You could get us involved to the
point of missing the ship."
Maria felt her eyes popping. A tingling, hot flush lit her face. It
spread back to her neck and crept down to her breasts. She snatched the
flannel sack to her and turned her back.
Somehow, she maneuvered it over her head. Then she fumbled on the
starched petticoat and topped the whole with the dun-colored dress that
fell chastely about her ankles. Willard handed her a pair of low heeled
shoes that were only a little loose when she put them on.
He had her stand facing one of the windows while he darkened her face
and put a black wig on her. She looked up at the window and stood very
still.
"Now, listen!" said Willard. "You'll absolutely have to stop blushing
like that, or the color of the skin is going to come all wrong!"
"I can't help it," she said meekly. Then she saw he was laughing at
her, and gave him a rueful smile. "Where did all that modesty come
from? It was the shock, I suppose."
"All right, it was funny. When we get out on the street again, forget
all about what's funny! Look like a serious Greenie!"
"Funny?" objected Maria. "I always thought I made a pretty fair showing
in comparison to the local gals."
"Oh, you did, you did! One of the best showings I've ever seen."
He pressed a hand to each side of her waist, then slid them up her ribs
until the weight of her breasts rested against his wrists.
"We'll talk about this again when we make it to the ship," he told her
in a low voice. "Right now, it would be foolish to spoil this make-up."
He turned away after a long moment and returned the kit to the chest.
They left by the same door by which they had entered, but Willard knew
a short way out to a different street. Maria thought it must be the one
outside the high windows. He set off at a businesslike pace.
They traveled about a quarter of a mile, counting several turns by
which he sacrificed directness for sparsely peopled streets. The
disguises must have been effective, for they drew no second glances.
It was not until she saw the gibbet that Maria realized they were
approaching the outskirts of the city.
"What--?" she began, sensing the reality of her plight for the first
time.
"Quiet! Look the other way, if you must, but don't be obvious about it."
Several examples of rigid Greenhaven justice were on exhibit to a
modest crowd. Three men and two women sat in stocks. They were not,
apparently, subject to rock-throwing or other abuse, as Maria seemed to
remember had been the custom on ancient Terra; but they were clearly
unhappy and mortified. From the gibbet behind them swung the body of
a hanged man. It appeared to have been there for some time. Maria
wondered what _he_ had done to corrupt the morals or the economics of
Greenhaven.
What nearly made her sick was the sight of a party of two dozen
children being guided on a tour of the place. One youngster whined, and
was thoroughly cuffed by the Greenie in charge.
Then they were past, and Maria saw the high cyclone fence of the Terran
spaceport. Willard took a look at her face. Seemingly satisfied, he
explained that they had come to a section well away from the main
entrance. He led her along the fence for perhaps a hundred yards, found
a small gate, and unlocked it with a key produced from under his belt.
Maria, remembering their exit from the jail, was not surprised to feel
a good-natured slap on the bottom as she stepped onto Terran land.
There was another quarter-mile to go, but it was open land.
"We have it made now," said Willard, locking the gate behind them.
They by-passed the administration and custom buildings, and headed
directly for the field elevator beside the waiting spaceship, ignoring
the possibility of causing inquiries to be made by local eagle-eyes who
might think they had seen two Greenies board the vessel.
"Willard, of the Department of Interstellar Relations," he introduced
himself to a surprised ship's officer. "You've been told to expect Miss
Ringstad?"
The officer, staring in bald disbelief at Maria's costume, admitted
that the ship was more or less being held for her arrival.
"One thing was unexpected," said Willard. "I am exercising my authority
to demand a cabin for myself as well. I have reason to suspect that my
disguise had been penetrated, which, of course, makes it very dangerous
for me."
"Of course," agreed the officer. "Let's go, by all means!"
"Yes," said Maria. "I want to get out of this awful rig."
"That's what I meant," said Willard.
There was no doubt that the influence behind Willard had held the ship
for them. It rose as soon as they could reach a pair of tiny cabins.
Later, after the first surge of the take-off, there were a number of
delays stretching between minor course corrections.
Finally, it was announced over the public address system that because
of precautionary checking of the course, there would be no spin to
simulate planetary gravity for about two hours. Maria hoped that she
would not be revealed as the cause to the disgruntled passengers.
She was still considering this and trying to disentangle herself from
the acceleration net slung in the ten-foot cubicle they were pleased to
call a cabin, when Willard arrived.
"I made friends with some of the crew," he announced. "Everybody likes
to help out a D.I.R. agent. It must strike them as romantic."
"They should know," said Maria, thinking of the long, suspenseful walk
through Greenhaven's streets.
"There was a stewardess who had extra slacks and blouse about your
size."
"You must have a good eye," she told him. "Or think you have, anyhow.
First, get me out of this thing. What with this Greenie outfit too, I
might as well be in a straitjacket!"
He pushed himself over to the net and began to open the zipper. She
saw that he had taken time to remove his "Greenie" face.
Her first motion, when the net was open, sent her tumbling head over
heels to the far bulkhead.
"Keep a grip on something," laughed Willard. "Here--I brought a small
kit along. Let me fix your face."
She obediently clung to the anchoring shock springs at one end of the
net and turned her face up so that he could work on the mask he had
earlier painted on. His fingers were gentle, smoothing in the cream he
had brought and rubbing off the make-up with lightly perfumed tissues.
Maria closed her eyes luxuriously and thought how pleasant it was to be
off Greenhaven.
"Was it very complicated, getting me out of there?" she asked.
"There were a lot of angles to think of," he answered, "but we pulled
it off as slickly as I've ever seen done. Just strolled right out
through them all. Things in this business don't often go that well to
plan. There--now you look human again, just like when I started to put
that face on you."
"Not exactly," smiled Maria, plucking ruefully at the native Mother
Hubbard, which billowed hideously about her in the zero gravity.
"That's easily changed," Willard said, meeting her smile significantly.
"See if you can find your way out any better than you did getting into
it, while I sort out the clothes I got for us."
Between the reaction from the strain of the past few hours and a glow
of gratitude toward her rescuer. Maria began to sense the stir of an
emotion within her that took a few moments to recognize. It surprised
her a little.
"Willard," she said lazily, "it's funny, but I feel just as if I'm
falling in love with you."
"That's interesting," grinned the agent. "About time, too."
"I can't tell if my knees are weak," she went on, laying a hand on his
shoulder to draw herself closer, "because I'm hanging in mid-air; but
you always seem to be making me strip--and I find myself not minding."
"I don't mind either!" he assured her.
When his arm slipped around her waist and he kissed her, Maria was
sure. She let her lips part gradually, trembling as the fever rose in
her.
"Let me go a minute," she murmured.
Presently, after a few weightless contortions, the muffling Greenhaven
flannels were sent swirling into a corner. Maria laughed softly as
she set a bare foot against the bulkhead to launch herself back into
Willard's arms.