Margot turned to the director. "You'll return this man to me, of
course."
Trigg sputtered, tugging nervously at his wispy beard. It was Matt
again who answered. "If he wants to go, he can go. If he wants to stay,
he stays."
"But he's mine!" Margot's green eyes flashed.
Matt said, "We don't recognize the right of anyone to own somebody
else."
"You've a lot to learn!"
"That's what I'm waiting for. How did you happen to survive the plague?"
Margot Drake's eyes narrowed. She glanced again at her watch before
replying. "The plague didn't kill everyone. A few escaped. In the last
days, it was already beginning to wear itself out. For some reason the
women were less susceptible than the men. Only a few men survived, but
possibly a hundred thousand women."
"Do you mean here in Kentucky?"
"I mean in the world!"
Matt swallowed. Still it was more than he had hoped.
The red-headed woman went on, "Quite naturally, women are dominant. And
what few men are left are highly prized. For instance, there are three
hundred women in my band--but only two men."
"Lord!" said Matt, "what a life they must lead!" Someone snickered.
"Where are you camped?"
"Farther down the creek by the farmhouse."
"How do you live?" Matt inquired.
"Off the fat of the land. We're nomadic. Cars and trailers. There's
plenty of gasoline and food for the taking. When a car breaks down, we
commandeer another. We're trekking north for the summer. Lake Michigan.
We'll head back to Mexico in the winter."
She glanced at her watch again. "If I don't leave now, they'll begin
to shell the ship. Will someone unlock the port? And take good care of
that man for me. I'll be back for him."
Scobbie, crouched in the corner, growled at her words. Matt and Captain
Bascom went with the red-head to open the port.
But when they got there, it was already unlocked, standing open.
Moonlight flooded the passage.
Matt swore. Captain Bascom said, "Who did this?" But Margot Drake only
smiled slyly.
She slipped down the ladder and paused to wave. "I'll be seeing you
soon," she called and, without waiting for a reply, turned and strode
lithely toward the wood.
Matt looked around for a gun emplacement. But, if there was one, it was
hidden among the trees. He closed the outer and inner ports, locking
and sealing them.
"We'd better count noses!" he said, frowning, as they returned to the
messroom. "It's damn queer, those ports being open."
A hasty check up revealed that three of the younger men were
missing--Sparks and two of the pilots.
Matt said grimly, "The fools! I suppose there's nothing to it but to
set a guard at the airlock. And it'll have to be a woman!"
V
Isaac Trigg, looking badly shaken, sank into the chair behind his desk.
"Matt we can't stay here!"
Matt Magoffin raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. Faith
Hutton, the genial middle-aged nurse, comfortable, stout and jolly, sat
in another chair at the end of the desk, smoothing her skirt nervously.
The pair of them, Isaac and Faith, had just returned from visiting the
women's camp down the valley. Faith had gone, because as she had said
with a twinkle in her gray eyes, the Amazons had no interest in women,
certainly not gray-haired ones anyway. Isaac explained dryly that
his gray hairs should protect him, too--not to mention certain other
perfectly natural infirmities that were associated with old age. So the
pair had gone off to reconnoiter the Amazons' strength and ferret out
their intentions.
They had returned an hour later, frightened and upset, summoning Matt
into the director's office.
Isaac said again, "It's impossible to remain here. You may wonder,
Matt, why we called you in. But the past three years have given me a
rather unique opportunity of judging your especial abilities."
The old man cleared his throat, combing his Van Dyke nervously with
his fingers. Matt glanced in surprise from his face to Faith's pinkly
healthy complexion and back again.
"What are you driving at, Isaac?"
Isaac Trigg gave him a shrewd glance. "We need someone to see that our
plans are carried out--to meet emergencies. An executive, who can carry
out our wishes. We think you can handle it, Matt." His eyes twinkled
suddenly. "While your botany leaves a great deal to be hoped for, you
do have an amazing audacity, an ability to get things done."
"Thanks," said Matt dryly.
"Don't take offense. You're young, only thirty-four. There's plenty of
time to master your subject. But at the moment it's youth and courage
we need.
"Your courage, Matt, although on the foolhardy side, is
unquestioned. And we particularly need someone with your
unscrupulous--er--temperament, who can seize opportunity by the
forelock--without any qualms or moral--er--indecision."
Matt burst out laughing. "It's a damn good thing for our egos that we
aren't mind readers." Still chuckling, he asked, "Have you consulted
the others about this proposal? You know, there's no earthly way we can
force them to stay and work, if they don't want to."
Isaac nodded. "They agree with me almost unanimously. We can't make
them stay, but if they do, they'll have to obey orders."
Matt scratched his crisp black hair. "Well, I don't know. We can try
it, I suppose. As I understand it, I'm not expected to formulate the
policy--that's a matter of general consent--but to see that whatever
plans are made are carried out. Right?"
"That's it exactly."
Matt said, "O.K. Suppose you begin by telling me what you learned at
the women's camp this morning."
Isaac's brow darkened. "They're wasters! Hedonists. They're living
absolutely for the moment. No care about the future. In a generation or
two, they'll have reverted to barbarianism. There's no hope for them.
"They live in trailers, traveling from place to place as the whim moves
them. There's plenty of clothes and food and gasoline everyplace now.
They repair nothing and make no provision for the time when decay and
rust and disintegration will destroy these things.
"There isn't a scientist among them. And, according to Margot Drake,
they're typical of dozens of such bands of women roaming at loose ends
across the Americas."
"Any children?"
"Surprisingly enough, there are quite a few. Some of them were
pregnant before the plague. Also, they've adopted any children they've
found. It's a strange paradox. But they manifest a very strong
maternal instinct. The children, of course, are pampered and spoiled
unreasonably."
"I wish we could kidnap the children," said Matt, "but I suppose that's
out of the question. As I see it, Isaac, we need a site that can be
easily fortified. And we need more people.
"With Sparks and the two pilots gone, there are only twenty-seven of us
left and that's counting the crew and Scobbie, the runaway."
Isaac Trigg looked unhappy. "Frankly, Matt, I don't see how we're going
to get either. We're under a state of siege. They've got a rocket gun
hidden in the trees."
He tugged at his Van Dyke. "Margot Drake asked permission to bring a
party of her girls aboard to show them about. I've a hunch there's more
to it than curiosity. I think she intends to bring her most attractive
cohorts in the hopes of luring more of our men to the camp. Sparks and
the pilots are there now living like sultans. We're more likely to lose
our men than gain any recruits."
"Hmmm," said Matt.
"As for locating a better site," Isaac went on, "we can't send out
expeditions to find one, because the men'll be captured."
"I know the spot to fortify," rejoined Matt. "I was studying the charts
this morning. Fort Knox is only about twenty miles from here on the
Ohio where Salt River empties into it.
"There should be guns, ammunition, tanks, wire, bulldozers--everything
we need. And we can fly the ship there. I know it's tricky navigating
in a strong gravitational field, but we'll have to chance it."
A ray of hope gleamed in the director's face. He thumped a bony fist
into his palm. "You've hit it, Matt! We'll leave immediately!"
"No," said Matt. "We'll wait until the delegates from the Amazons come
aboard to parley."
An expression of consternation passed across Isaac's visage. "But, good
Lord, Matt, they're dangerous! There's no telling what treachery they
might be planning."
"We need women, don't we? We'll turn the tables on them!"
The director swallowed.
"But they're dangerous," he repeated vehemently. "They're wild, I tell
you. They're violent, lawless wenches. Why, I'd sooner be ..." he shut
his mouth, glancing at Faith in embarrassment.
The middle-aged nurse's eyes were twinkling.