“Sorry, June,” I said apologetically. “But I have to have this thing done my way.”
Jim opened one eye, than another, and sat there without making any further disturbance. “June, get your video on. Find out if what your brother says is true.”
“Can’t you believe me?” he asked.
“No,” I told him bluntly. I wasn’t taking any chances.
June was fumbling with the dials of her video, and a moment later a newscaster’s face came on the screen. I listened stonily as he proceeded to give my description, or a rough approximation thereof, and repeated “President” Hawkins’ bone-chilling threat that the collars would be gradually tightened unless I was turned in.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve heard enough. Shut that thing off.” I whirled and faced them. Both June and her brother were pale-faced and frightened; they wore the same beaten, cowed look I’d noticed on the truckdrivers. This was a city of perpetual terror.
“Look,” I told them. “I’m going to turn myself in, as soon as possible.”
“But—” June started weakly to say.
“No. There’s nothing else I can do. I’m going to turn myself in and let them put a collar around my neck.” The words came tumbling out easily, and I was forming my plan even as I spoke.
“Why don’t you just escape through the airlock?” June asked. “Go back where you came from. You can still get away, and you won’t have to wear the collar.”
I shook my head firmly. “No. Two reasons. The first is that your benevolent administrators may take punitive measures against you anyway; the second is that you’re suggesting I run away—and I just don’t believe in running away. I’m going to stay here till the job is done.”
Jim Knight stood up and took my hand. “I’m sorry I got so hotheaded before, fellow. But why’d you knock me down when I went to the phone?”
“I wanted to tell you some things first, Jim. I’m sorry I had to rough you up, but it was necessary. There was one plan I had to let you know.”
“Which is?”
“I’m going to go to the capitol building now to get collared. I want you two to go gather up all your friends and see to it that there’s a considerable mob outside the building after I go in. Get the whole populace down, if possible. I don’t know if I can carry off what I’m planning, but I’ll need help on the follow-through if I do.”
“Right. Anything else?”
I rubbed my throat speculatively. “No. Nothing else. How does it feel to wear one of those things?”
I stepped hesitantly into the street, expecting to be grabbed at any moment. The artificial air of Callisto City was warm and mild, and the atomic furnace that heated the domed city was doing a good job. But I detected a curious odor in the air, and my sensitive nostrils told me that whatever had been polluting the air was still present. June had said it wasn’t fatal, and with my strength I knew I wouldn’t have much to fear for a while, so I didn’t worry about it.
I got about four steps down the street, walking by myself. I had insisted that June and her brother keep away from me, for fear they get involved as accomplices. I reached the corner and started up the thoroughfare, and at once a dozen hands grabbed me.
“There he is!” someone said.
“Thank God we’ve caught him before these collars get any tighter!”
I looked at them. They weren’t wearing uniforms; they were just townsfolk, honest, worried men who turned into vigilantes only to save their own necks. I pitied them.
“I’m the man you’re looking for,” I said. “You can let go of me. I won’t run away.”
The mob was getting bigger by the moment, and I was anxious to calm them down before they started transferring some of their hatred for their three tyrants to me, and ripped me apart in a mob’s wild, illogical way.
“I’m going to turn myself in,” I assured them hastily. “Where do I go?”
“To the capitol building,” someone said. “And you’d better get there in a hurry. You know what they’re going to do to us if you’re not found?”
“I’ve heard,” I said. “That’s why I’m turning myself in. Take me to wherever I’m supposed to go.”
A couple of them led me through the streets, with the rest tagging along behind. The poor, timid, frightened people! I was almost ready to explode with indignation; I felt I wanted to tear their unspeakable overlords apart with my bare hands.
And I could do it, too.
Finally we reached the capitol—a lofty affair that towered right up to the highest point of the great dome. I looked up. The dome formed a shining arc that covered the entire city; outside, beyond the dome, all was black, except for the swollen red orb of Jupiter hanging monstrously in the sky.
Jupiter. I wondered if I was ever going to get out of Callisto City to cross the gulf of space to the planet that seemed to beckon to me, the unexplored giant that called to me from afar.
“Here he is,” one of my captors said, to a guard at the capitol door.
I recognized him. He was the leader of the group of six who had originally tried to stop me back at the airlock. He gestured with his arm, and a whole host of blue-clad guards came forth and seized me roughly.
“Bring him inside,” he said. “Hawkins is waiting to see him.”
I was waiting to see Hawkins, too. I wanted to see just what sort of monster was capable of enslaving a whole city this way.
They led me through the richly-appointed lobby, hung with luxurious furnishings from every planet, no doubt imported at fantastic cost with money wrung from the Callistans by the infamous breathing-tax, and bustled me into an elevator. We shot up rapidly to the twelfth floor, where I was shoved out. I submitted as patiently as I could to this sort of treatment; if I wanted to, I could have smashed their faces and escaped with ease, but that kind of answer didn’t suit me.
I was taken down a long, well-lit corridor, and pushed into a large room that seemed to be completely lined with machinery. A row of dials and clicking computers ran down one wall, and a giant electronic brain sprawled ominously over the entire back half of the room. Up at the left side were two men, seated in lofty chairs surrounded by metal railings.
One was a Martian, spindly, elongated, with a weirdly-inflated chest and thick, leathery reddish skin. The other was an Earthman, small of stature, balding, totally ordinary-looking. There was something familiar-looking about both of them.
The Earthman, who must have been Hawkins, turned to the other—evidently Ku Sui, the Martian, the second of the triumvirate that ruled Callisto.
“Here’s our troublemaker,” Hawkins said. “Let’s collar him before he can do any damage.”
The Martian got off his throne-like chair and came rustling down to examine me at close range. They have notoriously poor eyesight. As he drew near, I recognized him, and a moment later he spotted me.
He turned in surprise to Hawkins. “You know who this is?” he asked sibilantly. “This is our old friend Slade.”
Hawkins was up from his chair in a second. “Slade?” I saw him go pale. “Get that collar on him as fast as you can!”
It came back to me now. Hawkins, and Ku Sui, and yes, the Venusian Kolgar Novin. I should have remembered as soon as June told me their names. Yes, we were old friends. Someone who leads the kind of life I do tends to forget some of his earlier adventures; they get blurred under the successive impressions of later encounters. But I recalled these three, now, and how I had foiled them, some ten years ago.
“Now I remember you,” I said, as Ku Sui came toward me holding an ominous-looking collar. “Remember the Pluto Mines, and the neat slave-trade you three were running out there? I chased you out of there fast enough!”
“You were a considerable nuisance,” Hawkins said. “But I think we have you in a better position now.”