"Mipsic?" I echoed inanely.
"Close enough, my good friend Jim. MIPSC is the acronym of Miniaturized Personal Satellite Communicator. I suggest that you clamp your jaw and order up a brace of them. Although four would be better - that way we could all keep in touch at all times. And remind Tremearne to put a comm-satellite into orbit as well. Geostationary over the city of Paradise."
"MIPSCs are not only highly secret but incredibly expensive," Tremearne said when I contacted him.
"Just like this little task force. Can you do it?"
"Of course. They're on the way."
A half an hour later a small package drifted down from the sky hanging from a grav-lifter - which zipped up and vanished as soon as the package had been removed. I popped the end open and shook out a handful of false fingernails. I popped my eyes at these - then remembered how Steengo had been buffing his own fingernails when he told me about MIPSC.
"Tricky," I said.
"High tech and perfect concealment," he said. "There should be glue in the package. They come in pairs. The one marked E goes onto the index finger, left hand. M glued to the pinkie of the same hand. Inside the nails are holographed circuitry so they can be trimmed as small as needed to fit. Without damaging the circuits in any way."
"E? M?" Floyd asked.
"Earplugs and microphone."
"Then what?" I asked, almost humbly, dazed by the sudden appearance of a communications wizard in our midst.
"They are powered by the destruction of the phagocytes that come to eat them where they touch the cuticle. Which means that the power is always on. Anytime you are outside or in a building with thin floors - your signal zips up to the satellite and back down to the other receiver. Simple. Just put your index finger into your ear and talk into the microphone on your pinkie."
I measured a pair, trimmed and glued with, I must admit, a certain amount of trepidation. Stuck my finger into my ear and said, "I hope it works."
"Of course it does," Tremearne said, speaking through my fingernail instead of my jaw for a change.
While we had been installing the MIPSCs we had been going over and over all of the possibilities, had returned always to the only viable plan.
"Let's do it," Madonette said, admiring her new communicating fingernails. She put on her pack, shrugged it into comfortable position, then turned and walked off on her side of the barrier. With each step the wall grew higher, until, very quickly, it was as high as her head, then higher. After a last wave of her hand she vanished from sight.
"Keep in touch," I said into my pinkie. "Regular reports and sing out if you see anything - anything at all."
"Just as you say, boss."
We slipped on our packs and started walking. By the time an hour had passed the wall was high and unscalable. Though I stayed in radio contact with her, Madonette was now completely alone. I kept telling myself that armed help could zip down from the orbiting spacer if needed. This did not make me feel much better.
"First tilled fields coming up," Floyd said. "And more than that, That dust cloud next to the wall - it's coming our way."
"Weapons ready - and I have some concussion grenades handy if things get hairy."
We stopped and waited and watched. In the distance it looked like a horse that was trotting towards us.
"Horse - but no rider," I said.
Steengo had the keener vision. "Looks like no horse I ever saw before. Not one with six legs."
It slowed to a stop and looked at us. We returned the favor. A robot, metal. Jointed legs and in the front a pair of tentacle-like arms to boot. No head to speak of, just a couple of eyes that rose up on a stalk. A loudspeaker between its arms rustled and squawked metallically.
"Bonan tagon - kaj bonvenu al Paradizo."
"And a good day to you as well," I said. "My name is Jim."
"A masculine surname, most agreeable. I am called Hingst and it is my pleasure to greet you - "
The creature's words were drowned out by a throbbing roar and a cloud of black smoke emerged from its rear. We stepped back, weapons ready. Hingst's flexible arms lifted straight up.
"I wish you only peace, oh strangers. You would not know it, since you are untutored in science, but the sound and fumes are merely the exhaust of my alcohol engine. Which is rapidly turning a generator which in turn…"
"Charges up your batteries. We know a thing or two as well, Hingst, greeter of strangers to Paradise, and we are not your usual goaty nomads."
"Now that is a pleasure to hear, visiting gentlemen. Before my operating system was bolted into this rather crude construction I was a class A42 headwaiterbot and worked at only the most excellent restaurants…"
"Another time," I said. "I would enjoy your reminiscences. We have a few questions - "
"And I am sure I have a few answers," it said with surly overtones. "But there are preliminaries to go through." It had strolled a few paces forward as it talked and now, like a striking snake, one of its tentacles lashed at me. I jumped back, lifted my sword - but not before the cool metal tip had touched my lips and just as swiftly been withdrawn.
"Try that again and you'll be a tentacle short," I growled.
"Temper, temper. After all you are armed strangers and I am simply doing my duty. Which is to sample your saliva. And test it, which I have done. You may proceed, Gentleman Jim, because you indeed are of the male sex. I would appreciate samples from your associates."
"As long as it is just spit you are after," Floyd growled, hands joined and cupped over his nether regions.
"Oh, I do appreciate a sense of humor, stranger." The tentacle took its sample from his mouth. "Gentleman stranger I can now say. Final traveler if you please. Lovely, thank you. You may now proceed."
It turned away and I jumped in front of it.
"A moment first, Hingst the Official Greeter. A few questions… "
"Sorry. I am not programmed for that. Kindly step aside, Gentleman Jim."
"Only after I get a few answers."
When I didn't move the other tentacle touched my arm and lightning struck!
I was lying dizzily on the ground watching it trot away. "Shocking, isn't it!" Hingst called back smugly. "Big batteries."
Floyd helped me to my feet and dusted me off. "So good so far."
"Thanks. But you aren't the one who was short-circuited."
I reported to Madonette as we went on, with Tremearne listening in. "Applied technology," he said. "Perhaps this lot isn't as bad as the rest of the crumb-bums on this planet." Since I was still tingling, and had a burnt taste in my mouth, I sneered in silence and did not bother to answer. Very soon after that Madonette called in that a creature like the one we had described was coming towards her. I clutched my sword in helpless anger, relaxed only when she called back.
"Just like you - only with a different name. Hoppe. As soon as it made the test it trotted off. What now?"
"We go on - and you take a break. If things are going to be the same, or similar, on both sides of the wall we'll find out first."
"Male chauv superiority?"
"Common sense. We're three to your one."
"A solid argument - and I could use the rest. Keep an contact."
"You've got it. Here we go."
The path had widened and was more of a dirt road now. We passed some tilled fields and came to a large grove of polpettone trees. Obviously cultivated since they were planted in neat rows. Beyond them was a low huddle of buildings that could be a farm.
Blocking the path was a brick building with an archway that spanned the road; we slowed and stopped.
"Is that what I think it is?" Steengo said.
"I think that it is a building with an arch under it," Floyd said. "And we're not going to find out any more just standing around here."
We shuffled forward slowly and stopped again when a man appeared in the archway. Our hands twitched away from our weapons when he stepped out into the sunlight. He blinked his red-rimmed eyes against the glare, nodded his head so his mane of long white hair bobbed, then tapped the arrow-and-circle symbol picked out in white on the front of his gray robe.