“Well…well…!”
In a huff, Podner Bates swept out of the room.
Guy rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered aloud. “Poor cloddy.”
He brought his two guns from beneath the bed’s pillows and considered them. There was no reason to believe he was going to be allowed into the presence of the Hippolyte armed, and he didn’t dare leave the weapons here. For all he knew, the suite would be shaken down again, the moment he left.
He brought his tool kit out once more, took his original gun apart and disposed of it by reuniting the four parts with pseudo-tools,, as they had originally been.
He then went to the window, opened it and looked out with care. He could see no one near enough to make any difference. He tossed the weapon he had captured the night before into a heavy bush in the garden below.
He closed the window again and returned to the table to see if there was a final cup of coffee. He needed time to think, and doubted if he was going to get it.
He didn’t. The major’s face was on his door screen within minutes.
She was brisk. She hurried through the usual amenities of bidding him good morning and asking after his rest, and then indicated that time was wasting.
“Will I need my tool kit?”
She scowled down at it. “I wouldn’t think so. You’re going to meet the Hippolyte and her advisers.”
He followed her out of the suite and down the stairs to the entry. It occured to him that thus far he had seen none of the inhabitants of this bachelor’s sanctuary save Podner Bates and the boy who had wheeled in the breakfast tray this morning. That had strange aspects, there were a good many apartments in the place. Was he being kept secluded?
Clete and Lysippe were awaiting them on the sidewalk before the sanctuary, both gave him a leering grin.
Clete said, “Morning, Sweety. You know, I think you looked prettier in that over-space men’s suit you wore on the Schirra.”
“Knock it,” Guy muttered at her.
“My,” Lysippe said, “our boy’s in a nasty temper today. And he seemed like such a nice inoffensive tad, up there on the ship, He must’ve been on his party manners.”
“Shut up,” the major rapped, “and let’s get going.”
There was a sudden shuffling noise and all turned.
Around the corner of the sanctuary darted a figure. It was obviously a woman, although she held her military cloak up about her face.
She came running hard, full at them.
Instinctively, Guy Thomas’ hand darted for his belt. There was nothing there. His gun was upstairs!
His three guards had gone on beyond him, opening the doors of the hovercar, the major beginning to slip into the seat. He was nearest to the newcomer.
She began to shout, “I thee…”
“Holy Jumping Zen!” Guy blurted. He took off like a shot, around the car, the woman pounding after him.
“Hey!” Clete yelled.
“Hands off, you cloddy!” Lysippe shouted. She tore for her gun, and managed to foul it in its holster in her attempt at speed.
The major, half in, half out, of the hovercar, stood paralyzed, her eyes goggling.
Guy completely rounded the car and headed desperately for the garden where he began dodging in and around rose bushes, the Amazon warrior immediately behind.
He had been the better part of a month on the Schirra, a month in which he had gotten precious little exercise. Besides that, the air seemed just a bit thinner on this world than he was used to on his home planet. He didn’t seem to be achieving the speed of which he should have been capable.
Lysippe was bringing up the rear, trying to catch the newcomer before that desperate female was able to lay hand on her charge.
In the background the major was shouting in wrath.
From the side of his eyes, even as he darted, Guy Thomas could see Clete, holding her sides and leaning up against the sanctuary wall, screaming laughter.
Some joke!
He scooted around a bush, headed back for the entrance of the building. He didn’t know exactly what the word sanctuary added up to, in this case, but there was a good chance it meant warriors, husband bent, weren’t allowed to enter. Perhaps all marriage rules were off where Podner Bates and his fellow bachelors resided.
He slid on the gravel and went asprawl. And didn’t bother to attempt to recover. He closed his eyes in surrender. He’d had it. He waited for the hand on shoulder, the dreaded I thee take!
More shouting and more uncontrolled laughter. That last from Clete, of course. Some guard!
He opened his eyes carefully to take in developments. Lysippe had evidently grasped the newcomer around the waist and was holding her, whilst the major came storming up, massacre in eye.
She faced Lysippe and her prisoner, hands dangerously on hips.
“Minythyia!” she blurted, enraged.
Lysippe released her grip and Minythyia shrugged her cloak back around her shoulders.
“You can’t blame a warrior for trying,” she said defiantly. He’s the cutest trick I’ve ever seen.”
“Is this your idea of a joke!” the major snapped dangerously.
“Joke?”
“You know how important it is that this funker of a man clear the way for interplanetary trade with Avalon!”
Minythyia twisted her full mouth stubbornly. Under other circumstances, far different circumstances, Guy Thomas would have thought of her as a far from unattractive girl, and certainly most suitable to take out on a freewheeling date with intentions of making such headway as was possible. But the very thought made him groan now.
She was saying, “Oh, he could finish all that jetsam right here on Amazonia. He wouldn’t have to leave. He could handle our end of it here, and we could send a representative to Avalon to take care of the other end.”
The major said coldly, “That isn’t the way the Hippolyte and her advisers have decided to do it.”
Minythyia growled, still stubbornly, “You know nardy well as soon as he gets into that slew of sex maniacs that hang out at the palace, he won’t last minutes before one claims him. And even Hippolyte can’t interfere with the marriage laws of Artimis.”
Guy groaned dispair as he came to his feet, brushing a skinned knee.
Clete hustled him into the car, still chuckling, whilst the major and Lysippe, taking no chances, stood between him and the deep breathing Minythyia who still eyed him, half desperately, half wistfully.
VII
Underway in the hovercar, the major, seated next to Guy in the front seat, turned around to face Clete and Lysippe. “Were you two in on that?”
They were both wide-eyed in innocence. “Artimes!’ Clete said. “Of course not. We’re the poor boy’s guards.
Lysippe said, “Didn’t you see me grab her?”
The major snorted but turned back.
Guy was finally regaining his breath. “That was close,” he muttered.
“Minythyia’s too slow on her feet,” Clete explained to him. “You’re lucky it wasn’t one of those sixteen-year-olds. They’re the worst.” She added thoughtfully, “In more ways than one. They don’t really know what to expect from a boy.”
“Shut up,” the major growled.
Clete chuckled.
The drive was a fairly long one, especially through Themiscyra pre-noon traffic. Not that Guy saw any of the latter. The major had turned the windows opaque and growled a surly negative when he requested the polarized view.
He said eventually, out of a clear sky, “All men aren’t like Podner Bates, are they?”
The major scowled at him. “How do you mean? What’s wrong with Bachelor Bates? I’ve always thought him a charming little fellow.”