Thornwald stepped forward and cracked his fist into the man's face
without waiting for further conversation. The man went toppling
backward, but the second one moved in and quickly caught Mac's arm. He
lifted his blaster and whipped it across Thornwald's face.
Helpless, Thornwald tried to duck. The butt cut into his flesh just
above the cheekbone, and he sagged limply.
"You'll come now, I think."
* * * * *
"In here, Thornwald."
The door of a cell opened, and rough hands hurled Thornwald inside. The
metal door clanked closed. Thornwald sat down on the hard cot in the
corner of the cell and tried to rub the pain away.
_Nice welcome_, he thought. _Half an hour on Bleekman's Planet and I've
had my baggage confiscated, gotten a pistol-whipping, and got tossed
into the jug. Pleasant planet._ He rubbed his head and groaned.
"They give it to you bad?" a voice said.
"Who's there?"
"Don't jump," the voice said. "I'm your cellmate. The name is Miller.
I've been here a week."
Thornwald squinted in the darkness and made out the dimly-visible form
of a man huddled up against the wall in the far corner of the cell.
"Just arrive?" Miller said.
"Yes. And I'm pretty puzzled about this damned rough stuff. What kind
of a world is this, anyway?"
Miller chuckled hollowly. "A lousy one. You're new here; you haven't
felt the worst of it yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you're now the private property of Governor Lloyd
Henderson and his paid thugs. I mean that Henderson runs this world,
and there's nothing you or I or anybody else can do but knuckle under."
Thornwald sprang to his feet. "How is it the outside world doesn't know
about this? How'd it happen? Who is this Henderson, anyway?"
"One question at a time," Miller said. "Why doesn't the outside world
know? Simple. No one leaves Bleekman's Planet, and so nobody finds out.
Not even a space liner lands here; it's too unimportant for that. A
shuttle comes down.
"As for how it happened--well, do you know anything about thylomine?"
"The cancer-curing drug?"
"That's the one. It's made from the _narkos_ tree, which is found on
Bleekman's Planet and a couple of other places. The leaves of the plant
are rich in it. All you have to do is gather them and process them,
and the drug can be made in quantity. Henderson's got the monopoly on
_narkos_-growing here. He was a big farmer originally, who just bought
everyone else out. Now he's the governor, and the thylomine trade is in
his back pocket, along with the rest of the planet."
Thornwald kicked his foot against the wall angrily. "Of all the lousy
worlds I had to pick to come to live on--" He turned to his cellmate.
"Why are you here?"
Miller shrugged. "Why are _you_ here? Why is anyone here? Anyone who
crosses Henderson gets dumped in here."
"But I didn't cross him," Thornwald protested. "I wasn't on the damn
planet more than a minute before they grabbed me."
"There must be a reason. Maybe they think you're a spy from the
Galactic Federation. That's what they fear worst of all--someone
getting in here and spilling the beans to the rest of the universe."
"That must be it," Thornwald agreed. "I'm a retired Police officer.
They must think I'm here as a spy." He shook his head. "I've got to get
out of here!"
"How are you going to do that?"
"Just wait and see." He cupped his hand. "Guard! _Guard!_"
* * * * *
He yelled a second time and a third. The sound of his shouting echoed
down the prison corridor, reverberated from the walls hollowly. "Guard!
Guard!"
"Okay," a bored voice said. "Quit yelling. What's the trouble in there?"
"It's my arm," Thornwald gasped. "It's haemorrhaging--I'm bleeding to
death!"
"You that one-armed fellow they just brought in?"
"Yes, yes! Come on! Get me a doctor before I bleed to death!"
There was a note of desperate urgency in Thornwald's voice that was so
convincing he could almost feel his stump throbbing.
"All right, I'll take a look," the guard said finally. He fumbled with
his keys and inserted one, while Thornwald threw himself to the floor
and lay there, writhing in apparently hideous pain.
"Where are you?"
"Down here," Thornwald said weakly. "I can't stand up. I--"
The guard bent to see what was wrong, and Thornwald kicked upward at
him. His boot took the jailer on the side of his jaw and knocked him
backward against the wall. As he staggered there, stunned, Thornwald
sprinted past him and out the cell door into the corridor.
"Get him, Miller!" he yelled as he broke away.
A bright stunbeam light spurted out as Thornwald left. He winced as it
nicked him in one ankle, almost hamstringing him, but he kept going.
Behind him, he heard the sound of Miller fighting with the bewildered
guard.
Thornwald dashed down the corridor as well he could with one foot
nearly crippled, reached the window, hoisted himself up with his arm,
and crawled up to the ledge.
He smashed open the window and shimmied through.
He was out of jail now--or would be when he dropped the ten feet to the
ground. But he wasn't out of trouble yet--not by a long shot.
* * * * *
The building up ahead was the Governor's Mansion--and that was the
first stop, and, he hoped, the last.
The customs inspectors had said something about taking his trunk to the
Governor. Good. Thornwald had to get to his trunk before much more
time elapsed.
His arm was in the trunk--the prosthetic arm. He was almost helpless
one-armed, except where he could capitalize on the weapon of surprise.
Once he got the prosthetic from his trunk--
He faded into the shadows as a uniformed figure passed by. One of
Henderson's policeman, no doubt, making the night rounds. Thornwald let
the man go by, then continued to glide among the shrubbery toward the
impressive mansion that was Henderson's home.
Thornwald's mind revolved the situation over and over as he moved
along. This world was Henderson's private property, and anyone who said
different was jugged instantly. It was a world of terror in which a
harmless stranger could become a hunted fugitive in a matter of minutes.
He reached Henderson's place. It was a walled mansion, as he expected.
There were ways to get over walls, though, Thornwald reflected. He
glanced around, found a strange-looking red-leaved tree whose angular
limbs had the consistency of rubber, and dragged himself upward.
He reached the bough he wanted, grasped it firmly, and swung out over
the wall. He landed--
A foot away from a snarling, blazing-eyed ball of fury. Even in the
darkness, he could see the animal clearly--a Vegan _ghoslik_, all teeth
and ferocity and mindless hatred. It snapped at the intruder.
Thornwald launched a vicious kick at the animal, and there was the
sound of needle-sharp teeth splintering against his boot. The creature
howled and bounded away into the darkness.
_So much for your watchdog, Henderson. Now for the real job._
He tiptoed to a window and peered in. A uniformed man was in there,
pacing up and down in a corridor. Thornwald smiled, picked up a rock,
and hurled it through the window.