The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Blue Venus, by Emmett Mcdowell.

The hooded figure of a man detached itself from the shadows beside the door, paused, listening. Nothing stirred. The huge sprawling plantation house was silent and yet alive with the feel of sleepers.

Then from below stairs, he heard a door slam. The tinkle of laughter ascended to his ears. He crouched. His hand slipped inside his coat, fondled the slug gun nestling in its shoulder holster. The voices drifted out of hearing. Uneasy silence settled back over the plantation house.

The hooded man let his breath escape between his teeth. He slid back the door, passed inside like a shadow, shut the door behind him.

The room which he'd entered was lit by the intense, green radiations from the Venusian vegetation. The cold phosphorescent light streamed through the open windows, glinted from a glassite desk, soft flexoglas lounging chairs and sofa. It was the typical office from which the plantation owners directed the affairs of their feudal estates.

As silent as a night hawk, the hooded man drifted to the wall, ran his fingertips over the wood paneling. There was a faint click. The panel slid back revealing a wall safe.

A needle ray of light streamed suddenly from the hooded man's hand, splashed off a paper which he'd drawn from his pocket. He checked the string of figures printed there, returned the paper to his pocket. He worked swiftly, surely. Then with a sigh of satisfaction he swung back the heavy door.

There was a faint thump in the corridor outside the office that broke the silence.

The hooded man snapped erect, the compressed air slug gun in his hand. He was sharply conscious of the hum of Venusian night life outside the windows. The room felt sticky, close. His hand was damp with sweat about the pommel of the slug gun.

He waited five minutes, ten minutes without moving, but the noise was not repeated.

He drew a breath, set to examining the papers in the safe by the aid of the midget flash. Most of them he put back carefully, just as they'd been, but two packets he stuffed into an inside coat pocket. He closed the door, spun the dial. He heard a sharp click behind him, leaped around.

A startlingly beautiful girl, he saw, was standing in the doorway to the corridor covering him with a wicked dart gun. She was a tall girl with the yellowest hair he'd ever seen. She wore a spun glass negligee and her skin was blue. It was the pastel blue of a Terran dawn flushed with rose.

"Why don't you turn in the alarm?" said the hooded man dryly. The poisoned needle gun was sending goose flesh quivering up his spine. A scratch would be fatal. His jaw tightened beneath the hood. His eyes were hard green discs, the dangerous eyes of a hunted man.

"Oh no." The blue girl's voice was low. "I wouldn't do that. I'd never be able to get the safe open by myself."

The girl giggled. "I take what I want, and you take what you want," she explained naively. "See. And you'll be blamed for taking it all. Only you're going to be disappointed!"

"Bemmelman never keeps his money on the plantation. It's all at Venusport. There aren't fifty monad in the safe."

She looked at him intently, made a thin gasping noise. "You're the Renegade!" The dart gun trembled in her small blue fist. "Oh my God! I didn't guess. You're the Renegade!"

Without affirming or denying the statement, he asked, "What do you want from the safe?" and took a third step.

The little gun went spat. The hooded man heard the dart whisper past his ear, thunk into the paneling behind him. His stomach felt suddenly hollow.

"My dear girl," he said dryly; "if you do that again, I won't be able to open a book, let alone that safe. I'm a mass of jelly now."

"Evidence!" Impulsively she took a step toward him, allowed the dart gun to waver out of line. "Evidence to send Bemmelman to the disintegration chamber!"

The hooded man felt appalled at the sheer animal hate in her violet eyes. Her skin was too light for her to be a full blooded Jovian primitive. She must be a cross. He mentally snapped his fingers. That was it, of course. The Blue Venus! The slave for whom Hal Bemmelman was asking five thousand monad on the Venusian Slave Mart. He said:

"I loathe him!" With a savage jerk, she yanked her white negligee down from her left shoulder. "See that?"

He saw a scar on the pale-blue skin above her breast. It was the shape of a fern leaf and he could have covered it with his thumb.

"Branded!" she spat. "My father was a Jovian Dawn Man—an animal! But my mother was an Earth woman. Hal Bemmelman kidnapped her!"

The hooded man regarded her pityingly. She was only a kid, he realized. He said:

"You can't get Bemmelman like that. He runs the government at Venusport. He'd never come to trial." He stopped, realizing that she wasn't listening.

Nostrils flaring, head erect, the girl was looking through him blankly. A glimmer of fright flitted across her mobile features. Then she raised the dart gun, pointed it full at his chest.

With a shrug, he obeyed. He saw the door to the corridor slide back. A heavy red-faced man in his late forties and a wrinkled snuff brown suit stared in at them. The red-faced man's sparse sandy hair was plastered to his skull, and he had little mobile brown eyes like a pig.

"Is that you, Hal?" The blue girl didn't turn around, didn't take her eyes off the hooded man. "I've caught the Renegade!"

The red-faced man's jaw dropped. "Yes sir," he said. "Yes sir, it's me, Sofi." A shrewd gleam flickered in his pig-like eyes.

"So I see! So I see!" Bemmelman rubbed his hands together, came into the room. He pulled a dart gun from the belly band of his trousers and leveled it at the Renegade. "Stand aside, Sofi."

The hooded man felt his stomach turn slowly upside down. He considered hurling himself behind the glassite desk, snatching out his slug gun.

Alarm stiffened the planter's features. "Get it, girl! No! No! Don't get between us! Get behind him!"

The hooded man felt the girl's hands pat his chest, draw forth the heavy slug gun.

The florid color crept back into Bemmelman's gross features. "You may go, Sofi. I want a word with the Renegade."

Sofi shot him a child-like pouting glance, but retreated obediently from the room, drawing the door shut behind her.

The lean young man in the hood watched, weighing his chances. He didn't say anything.

"You're surprised, eh, that I don't turn you in to the Security Patrol?" Bemmelman began. "They'd like to get their hands on the Renegade, they would. But the fact is I want you more than they do. Yes sir, this is a piece of luck for me. I've been trying to contact you for months."

The hooded man said dryly: "I'm listening," and allowed his hands to sink to his side.

"Put your hands back on your head!" Bemmelman's voice registered alarm. "No tricks. I can use you, lad, but no tricks." He glared speculatively at the Renegade, added: "Yes sir, that I can. And now, if you'll take off that hood we'll get down to business."

"No sir," the planter blustered. "Off with the hood or I shoot. When I do business with a man, I like to know who he is."

The hooded man's green eyes were reckless. The law on Venus was harsh, implacable. There were no pardons. The disintegration chamber at Venusport yawned for him inexorably.

"You are right now. Yes sir. You can take it off alive, or I'll take it off of you dead."

The hooded man was half crouched against the glassite desk. He said softly: "You don't leave me much choice," and dived beneath the dart gun.

His head struck the slave breeder's paunch like a cannon ball. Bemmelman went, "Ooof!" and sat down with a thud. The dart gun spat a needle into the ceiling where it quivered viciously.

The hooded man was on him like a cat. One swipe of his hand knocked the dart gun clattering under the sofa. Purple faced, gasping Bemmelman scrambled to his feet. A look of fright swept his gross features, and he began stabbing a button on the glassite desk.

The hooded man could hear the shrill clamor of alarm bells pealing through the rambling building. He leaped for the door, threw it back.

Like a whip, the hooded man twisted sideways, snatched the gun from the startled girl. He saw Bemmelman charging across the room. He grinned, shoved the girl into the planter's arms, slammed the door.

The sound of shouts drifted up to him. He saw a Venusian serf, armed with a bell muzzled ray rifle, dash into the corridor. The serf caught sight of him. A yellow ray streamed from the gun, splashed off the wall; but the hooded man already had vanished up the stairs.

Bemmelman burst from the office. "Which way did he go? The force screens are up! He can't escape!"

Half a dozen armed serfs dashed into the hall. The alarm bells were still ringing.

"We've got him. That leads to the roof. He can't get off!" He charged the steps followed by the pack of Venusians.

At the roof Bemmelman paused, shoved up the trap. With considerable respect for his own skin, he ordered one of the serfs through first.

The green phosphorescent glow of the vegetation lit the flat roof eerily. A raucous screech from some night flying bird floated down from the cloud mass overhead. There was no plane, no sign of a plane; but the man with the hood was gone.

Mia MacIver tried to concentrate on her head overseer's report. She felt hot and sticky and the figures ran together, didn't make sense. Moreover, the delicate notes of a flute kept scattering her thoughts. They came through the casement window from the patio outside her study.

She was barefooted, clad only in a short yellow tunic, but she felt as if she were locked in a steam bath. She'd never get used to Venus, she supposed, to its turkish bath atmosphere, its lush phosphorescent vegetation, its ridiculous mingling of periods, Paleozoic, Mesozoic, and the glass age all flourishing together. The Pan-like notes continued to assail her ears from outside the study.

She wrinkled her nose, wiped a trickle of sweat from the end. In despair, she flipped on the Newscaster.

"Last night," his voice came through the audio, "the plantation of Councillor Bemmelman was raided by the Renegade. Luckily, he was discovered immediately and the Security Patrol notified. But as usual the Renegade had vanished without a trace."

Mia MacIver snapped to attention. It was absurd, she felt with a surge of anger that a man could make fools of the Venusian authorities as the Renegade had done for years.

She knew little of Venus. Her life had been spent in boarding schools on Earth. But when she'd received news that her father was dead, murdered by the Renegade, she'd booked passage to Venusport at once, determined to manage the plantation herself.

"Here's a special bulletin," the announcer was saying. "The plantation owners are subscribing ten thousand monads to be added to the price already on the Renegade's head. That makes a total of fifty thousand monads for his capture. A punitive expedition is also being organized against his headquarters in the Cloud Mountains."

Mia MacIver switched off the Newscaster, stood up. The notes of the pipes drifted into her study, exotic, compelling. She bit her lip, stepped through the window onto the vine roofed patio.

Cosmo Horn took the Venusian pipes from his mouth, said dryly, "I didn't think I was that bad."

He was sprawled in a hammock, looking like a handsome, rather distinguished tramp.

"No." He shook his head. He had a lean, hawk-like visage, close cropped brown hair, green eyes.

Cosmo sat up, put the reeds in his pocket. He was wearing only coat and trousers. The brown triangle of hair on his chest extended in a thin line down his flat belly. "How much did he nick that dealer in flesh for?"

"Nothing. They scared him off before he had a chance to take anything. Cosmo, why can't they catch him?"

"No one's seen him without his hood. They don't know who he is; they don't know where to look, or what to look for."

"On Earth there wouldn't be a Renegade," interrupted Cosmo dryly. "Earth is unified. It isn't split up into hundreds of independent countries like Venus. They don't have slavery or serfdom or the feudal system on Earth. Men aren't driven into outlawry...."

"Driven!" said Mia in a heated voice. "What makes you think he was driven? I'd say he was doing exactly as he pleased."

Cosmo stood up, towering over the girl, took several short paces across the patio.

"I don't think anyone would enjoy being constantly hunted. Everyman's hand against him. Always on guard against treachery, surprise. And no matter how careful he is, sooner or later he's bound to be caught. He can't even quit, now. I feel sorry for him."

Cosmo looked startled. "You're a blood-thirsty little devil." He grinned suddenly. "What I've been saying must have buzzed in one ear and out the other."

"Hal Bemmelman told me. He found father down in the tara field where...." Her voice faltered, but she recovered herself, went on. "Where the serfs had hacked him to pieces with grass knives. They were the Renegade's men."

"Did he? Did he indeed?" Cosmo's voice was grim. "What was Bemmelman doing there?"

"Of course he was." Her gray eyes widened. She stared at him. "Surely you aren't accusing Bemmelman of murdering father. Why he's the most influential member of the Council of Land Owners. He's...."

Cosmo's face was grim, his green eyes cold. "She's a cross between a Jovian Dawn Man and an Earth woman. She's supposed to be the most beautiful girl in the System. She belongs to Bemmelman. He forced her mother to mate with a Jovian primitive as an experiment. He's asking five thousand monad for her on the Slave Mart. Hal Bemmelman is a slave breeder."

"I don't believe it!" Mia said in horror, then asked with feminine perversity: "How do you know?"

Cosmo sat down in the hammock, grinned faintly. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone but your father, Mia. I think you ought to know, because you're in danger." His green eyes twinkled. "Quit chewing your fingernails."

He said: "Twenty-six years ago my father owned the Bemmelman plantation. He was murdered under almost the same circumstances as your father. So was my mother. My nurse escaped with me, hid me out in the mountains. I was only five."

"Jovian Dawn Men. Slaves imported from Jupiter. They run amok during their rutting season, you know, and they were supposed to be amok at the time."

"Wait a moment. Bemmelman held notes on the plantation. He moved in. But before Bemmelman took over our plantation, he was a slave runner. He imported Dawn Men from Jupiter for the Venusian Slave Mart."

"No," said Cosmo, "he couldn't. Land here is entailed. It stays in the same family from generation to generation. Mu is one of the few countries on Venus where Terrans have been able to settle at all. Bemmelman's only chance was to have my people murdered and forge notes."

Cosmo nodded. "He's tried to have me assassinated several times," he said indifferently.

"Doesn't it strike you there's a great deal of similarity between your case and mine. Your father has been murdered, supposedly by the Renegade. It looks like Bemmelman is getting ready to expand."

"No," said Cosmo, a smile quirking the corners of his wide, grim-lipped mouth. His lean, narrow jaw and thin, hooked nose gave him a saturnine cast. "But I wouldn't put it past him to kidnap you. Remember the Blue Venus. I happen to know Bemmelman's been anxious to repeat that experiment, but a beautiful Terran girl is hard to get."

But Cosmo had leaped to his feet. "There's a plane coming!" he said in an edgy voice.

A surface flying car flashed to the edge of the patio, stopped, settled to the ground. The extreme altitude of the bullet-shaped vehicle was under three hundred feet, Cosmo knew. But even that height was impractical for flight on Venus, roofed as the planet was by the low, swirling cloud blanket. As a rule, the planes barely skimmed the surface.

Bemmelman strode across the patio, his eyes on Cosmo, said in a disagreeable voice: "If it isn't the fortieth-century troubadour."

"Mia." Bemmelman took both the girl's hands in his big paws. "I've bad news. Yes sir, very bad news. Three of my serfs ganged my second overseer, chopped him to pieces with grass knives."

"They got him from behind, I guess. Then they broke into the arsenal. They're armed, Mia, and heading this way. I dropped everything to fly over and warn you."

"They're trying to reach the Cloud Mountains and join the Renegade. Your place lies directly between mine and the mountains."

"The Renegade!" Mia's level gray eyes frosted with hate. "The rurals can't catch him. He makes monkeys out of the Security Patrol. What is he? A wizard?"

"You've heard the news?" Bemmelman interrupted. "The Renegade was at my place last night. I've been worried about you, Mia, alone here on the edge of the mountains. Yes sir, I came to take you to my plantation until we have these murderous serfs behind bars."

"This isn't Earth, Mia," he said in a silky voice. "I haven't much time. No sir. I must return to organize the pursuit. We'll teach those brutes a lesson they won't soon forget."

"We'll catch them!" Bemmelman turned his small, brown, pig-like eyes on Cosmo. "Yes sir, and the Renegade, too."

Bemmelman lowered his head like a bull. "I haven't the men to spare to guard you, even if I could trust them. I was too good a friend of your father's, Mia, to leave you here with those three murderers roaming in the neighborhood. You're coming with me."

Cosmo, observing quietly, frowned to himself. What was the planter trying to pull?

Bemmelman glared at her, seized her arm. "Girl, don't be a fool. If those runaways show up here, they'd chop you to pieces. Come along." Unceremoniously, he began to drag her toward his plane.

"You heard Miss MacIver." Two rouge-like spots sprang out on Cosmo's high cheek bones. His green eyes were opaque.

"Get your dirty paws off me!" Bemmelman roared in surprise. He almost choked with rage. "By Jupiter! I'll teach you a lesson you won't soon forget! Yes sir!"

With a growl, the red-faced planter lashed out with his fist. The blow struck Cosmo on his right cheek bone, snapped back his head.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Cosmo. He turned loose Bemmelman's shoulder.

The planter swung again wildly. Cosmo slipped the blow. With a straight left, he knocked Bemmelman down.

The planter shook his head. There was a surprised look on his beefy red features. Sinking his head in his bull neck, he scrambled to his feet.

Bemmelman turned his brown pig-like eyes up to Cosmo. He tried to rise. Cosmo knocked him down for the third time.

He said: "Bemmelman, get out of here. If you ever lay hands to me again, I'll kill you."

The planter heaved himself to his feet, lip drooling blood. He crossed to his surface plane, scrambled inside. Then he shook his fist at Cosmo.

"I'll get you for this, Horn. You haven't MacIver to protect you now. I'll get you."

Bemmelman hastily slammed the door. The vehicle swooped from the ground, sped away like a silver bullet.

"He will," said Mia in a small voice. "You shouldn't have done that, Cosmo. He's powerful. He controls the Council of Land Owners."

"He struck me." Cosmo's lean features were like clay. "If he does it again, I'll kill him."

He flicked a glance past the startled girl, stiffened in alarm. At the edge of the patio, three men stood in a silent group.

One, he saw, was a serf. Naked to the waist, the Venusian was darker, squatter than the Fozoqls, the killer caste of Venus. But he had the same venomous green eyes. A grass knife was thrust through his sash, and he held a ray rifle at a menacing angle.

It was the second figure, though, that took his breath away. A huge, naked, blue giant. His only weapon was a club.

Cosmo felt his palms dampen. The terrific gravity of Jupiter endowed the Jovian primitives with superhuman strength. Normally, they were docile creatures and highly prized among the Venusians as slaves because of their terrible strength and weird beauty. The Dawn Man faced them now, nostrils flaring as he tested their scent. He was handsome as a matinee idol. But somewhere the Jovians had run into an evolutionary blind pocket. They would never evolve into true men. They were animals.

Cosmo scarcely noted the third member of the group, the short barrel-shaped Mercurian. He stood a little apart, smiling blandly and quietly like an inscrutable Buddha.

"Look at the scars on their shoulders," Mia whispered hoarsely. "The fern leaf! That's Bemmelman's brand. They're the runaways!"

The Venusian raised his rifle. His green eyes burned with hate for the Earthlings.

"Put down your rifle," said Cosmo in the Venusian dialect of Mu. He could feel the pulse beat in his ears; his lips felt dry. "Seek you the Renegade?"

The Venusian hesitated, indecision reflected in his dark-yellow features. The Dawn Man shook his club, growled deep in his chest. Muscles rippled like hawsers beneath his blue hide.

Cosmo glanced at him sharply, realized that behind the Mercurian's smiling mask, he was violently distressed. Mercurians didn't approve of bloodshed, he recalled.

Sweat dappled Cosmo's forehead. Then, with a faint shrug, he made a peculiar gesture with his hand.

An expression of wonder and comprehension filled their faces. Only the blue giant continued to rumble deep in his chest.

"The Renegade!" cried the fat Mercurian, and his yellow eyes twinkled with relief. He plumped on his knees, repeated the cabalistic symbol.

With only a moment's hesitation the serf followed suit. "Down, you big ox!" he shouted at the Jovian and thwacked him behind the knees with his ray rifle. "Down! That's the Renegade!"

Mia MacIver stared at Cosmo in disbelief. "You—you're not the Renegade! I don't believe it."

She held her hands straight down at her side, small fists clenched. "Lucky? Father thought you were his friend and you killed him. I'd rather be dead than owe you anything."

"Of course, you'd say that." Her chin trembled; she set her jaw stubbornly. "Who'd believe the Renegade?"

Cosmo made a weary gesture, turned back to the runaways who'd been listening with interest.

"Get off your knees," he said. His tone was embarrassed. "The Security Patrol is scouring the countryside for you right now. Take to the forest where the planes can't follow. Make for the mountains. My men...."

"By Nemi!" the Buddha-faced Mercurian ejaculated suddenly. He pointed at Mia who was slipping through the window to her study. "The girl is escaping. After her, Tong!"

The Venusian serf leaped in pursuit, but Cosmo halted him with a lifted hand. "She won't go far." He turned back to the Mercurian. "I give the orders," he said.

The moon-faced little man bowed good-naturedly. Cosmo realized he wasn't even armed.

"We understand one another," the Mercurian replied blandly. "I act as a governor. My presence restrains them from indulging in an excess of blood letting."

The Mercurian shuddered. "Yes. A violent man, that Penang-ihtok. An outcast Fozoql."

Without a word the odd trio filed off. Cosmo watched them around the corner of the plantation house, then sprang through the window of Mia's study.

The girl was at the telecast. She had tuned in the fat Commissioner of the Security Patrol.

"What?" the Commissioner's voice rumbled from the audio. His jowls were shaking; his image wildly agitated. "Are you sure, Owner MacIver? The Renegade at your plantation with the serfs from the Bemmelman place?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned away from the Visoscreen, but Cosmo could still hear his voice shouting orders at some underling.

"Contact the radio patrol planes! Order them to converge on the MacIver plantation! The Renegade! Good Lord, man, d'ya realize what a feather it'll be in our caps? Hurry!"

The fat Commissioner swung back into the visoscreen. "I'll have a dozen patrol planes there in ten minutes. What does he look like, Owner MacIver? Who is he?"

"He is ..." began Mia, then discovered Cosmo standing beside the boxlike transmitter on the wall. He flashed her a faintly wolfish grin.

Mia gasped, brought her hand to her throat. Her high firm breasts heaved wildly beneath the yellow tunic.

"What's wrong, Owner MacIver? What's wrong?" came the excited voice from the audio.

"He is ..." she began again, but the screen went dead. Cosmo had yanked the transmitter from the wall. Wires like tentacles dangled from the back of the box. He dropped it to the gray straw matting.

"That won't help!" Mia's voice was triumphant as she backed away. "You can't escape. They'll come from all directions."

"You're coming with me." His voice was grim. "I'd rather the Commissioner didn't find out I'm the Renegade just yet."

"Put me down! Are you mad?" Mia's long, bare legs thrashed wildly. She hammered at his chest. "You can't escape by yourself, let alone with me."

He calmly pinioned her flailing legs, strode out the window to the edge of the patio. Dropping her to her feet, he fumbled in his pocket, drew forth a whistle, put it to his lips, blew.

No audible sound resulted. The note was too high, too shrill to be detected by human ears.

Cosmo's eyes searched the dense pearl gray cloud ceiling. He blew twice more on the soundless whistle.

There was a disturbance in the cloud layer directly overhead as if tremendous fans were boiling the impenetrable fleecy ceiling into a froth. Then a huge grotesque shape plummeted from the clouds. With back flailing wings, the monster settled to the ground.

The Ormoo cocked its red-brown eye at Cosmo, rubbed its gunmetal gray beak against his leg, emitted a pleased raucous squawk.

Mia flinched. The beak looked capable of severing Cosmo's leg like a twig. From wing tip to wing tip the Ormoo extended over sixty feet. Its pearl gray plumage was a perfect camouflage as it drifted through Venus' eternal cloud blanket.

The Ormoo crouched to its breast like a hen setting on her eggs. A saddle was strapped to its back.

The Ormoo cocked its head again, eyed the frantic girl gravely as a robin might watch a beetle.

He laughed, flung her astride the saddle. Holding onto her naked ankle, he vaulted up behind.

The Ormoo lurched to its feet. It took a few ungainly steps, launched itself into the air with a powerful drive of its legs. The massive wings lashed the air like flails as it spiraled upward.

"Take me back, Cosmo. I won't tell the Commissioner you're the Renegade. I'll lie like a Martian diplomat. Only make this monstrosity go down! Please Cosmo!"

"The hell you say," said Mia between chattering teeth. "I tell you that bird considers me in the same light as a juicy worm."

Already, the tenuous mist was closing around them. The Ormoo still spiraled upward. Cosmo saw a patrol flash by beneath them, pause like a humming bird over the patio. Another, then another streaked in from different directions.

Mia MacIver leaned over all at once, shrieked in a despairing voice: "Help! Help!"

"You little wretch," Cosmo grinned, clapped his hand over her mouth. She bit him.

He jerked his hand away. Before she could cry out again, the wool-like cloud blanket smothered them. Everything disappeared in moist white fleece. Mia slumped forlornly in Cosmo's powerful arm.

The giant bird wheeled off at an angle, wings beating with the rhythmic swish of waves lapping at a beach. Guided by some peculiar sixth sense, it headed by the shortest route for the Cloud Mountains.

For a while, the whish—swish of the Ormoo's wings was the only sound. It was like flying through a warm blinding blizzard.

"Does it know where it's going?" Mia twisted about in Cosmo's arm, curiosity overcoming her terror. Already her brown piquant features dripped with moisture. Her damp yellow tunic clung to her pliant figure like skin.

"Yes. The patrol planes can't navigate in these clouds. But the Ormoo can. It flys by instinct."

Her attitude had undergone such an about face that his green eyes hardened warily.

Mia snuggled deeper in his arms. "Was it because your father and mother were killed and Bemmelman stole your plantation?"

"That was part of it. My nurse fled with me to the Cloud Mountains. The Jovians trailed us, hunted us for months, then we fell in with a party of outlaws. They were rough men, but kind. I didn't understand much that was happening at the time, but later I managed to piece it together. I swore I'd make Bemmelman pay."

He laughed mirthlessly. "It was no use. The authorities weren't interested in hearing anything against him. I thought maybe if I could get concrete evidence, that would force them to act. I broke into his manor house. I was discovered, but I got away. I was wearing a hood to conceal my features. The newscasters played it up. The hooded man. The Renegade. I suddenly found myself notorious—an outlaw."

"But you raided other plantations. You stirred up the serfs!" She couldn't keep the edge of hate and accusation out of her voice.

"Some," he admitted with a grin, "though we preyed on other outlaws principally. But whenever the Security Patrol couldn't solve a crime, they laid it to the Renegade. The list is astounding: murder, rapine, theft." He chuckled grimly. "I've even been credited with committing two killings at the same time over five hundred miles apart."

"But even if you get Bemmelman," Mia pointed out; "what can you gain. You're still an outlaw. You'll be sent to the disintegration chamber."

"Oh, they'll get me someday," he replied coolly. "But first, I'll drag down Bemmelman."

The Ormoo plummeted toward the surface. Mia clapped her hands, shrieked: "Up!" Its wings thundered as it gained altitude again.

She twisted around in the saddle. "It obeys me," she laughed infectiously. She placed her hands, as if to steady herself on Cosmo's shoulder. All at once, her gray eyes contracted. She gave him a tremendous push.

Caught completely by surprise, Cosmo lunged desperately for the saddle, missed. He felt himself slipping faster and faster on the bird's wet back. There he went over with a rush.

His wildly grabbing hand slid down Mia's bare leg. Like a drowning man clutching at a straw, his fingers closed about her ankle.

"Let go!" she yelled. "You're pulling me off!" She kicked wildly at the man dangling pendulum-like from her foot.

Cosmo grunted. He pulled himself up, grabbed her leg just above the calf. Thrusting his free hand into the Ormoo's feathers, he seized a large quill, inched himself upward.

Mia was too busy hanging to the saddle to kick at him. She lay stomach down across the Ormoo's back clinging with the strength of panic.

Cosmo released her leg, got a grip on her tunic. It parted halfway up her back, leaving him dangling wildly from the huge quill. He caught her leg again, strained upward until he could grasp the saddle and heave himself astride.

Mia still lay stomach down across the saddle sobbing with frustration. There were red finger weals on ankle, calf and thigh where Cosmo's iron fingers had dug into her flesh.

He flashed her his sudden grin. "You little devil," he panted. "I ought to dangle you over the Ormoo's side. See how you'd like it."

A shudder passed through the girl. "I hate you! I hate you!" she sobbed in frustrated rage.

There was a soothing tempo to the swish-lift of the giant Ormoo's flight. Mia dozed as the miles fled past, slumped against Cosmo's chest.

Then unexpectedly, the bird wheeled, flapped sharply upward. Its huge wing tips brushed the face of a cliff. Fog swirled, whipped into froth by the frenzied wings.

Mia MacIver awakened in terror, clung to Cosmo, pressed her damp quivering body against him. The bird wheeled again and again, always gaining altitude.

"We're in the Mountains of the Clouds." Cosmo's green eyes glittered. "We'll be at the roost any moment."

It was colder. Mia shivered. Then the Ormoo began to settle. Wings thrashing, it came to rest with a jar.

Nothing was visible but cloud, thick, clinging. The mountains, thrusting up into Venus' cloud sheath, were perpetually mantled with the gray vapor. The deep throated roar of a waterfall beat at their ears like thunder.

Cosmo slid off the Ormoo's back, shouted at Mia to jump. His voice was drowned in the waterfall. A dash of spray struck his face.

He felt for her ankle, yanked. She came tumbling into his arms with a scream. Cosmo laughed, bore her lightly across the jumble of sticks which was the Ormoo's nest, down a long slippery flight of steps descending into the chasm. Spray drenched them both. The roar was unbearable.

He paused, fumbled at a section of the cliff. A door swung inward, revealing a long low chamber hewn from the living rock.

Fog swirled about them like steam from a turkish bath. He set her on her feet, shut the door. The roar of the waterfall was blotted out. Only the hissing of gas jets which lighted the chamber disturbed the silence.

"My private entrance." He surveyed his prize. The wet yellow tunic revealed every subtle curve. "You're a handsome wench, Mia."

"You're easily resigned," he observed dryly, and urged her toward the door at the rear of the chamber. "You need to get out of that wet tunic." He grinned, regarded the rent in the back of the garment. "It isn't doing its duty any longer anyway."

"I think you're horrible!" She grabbed the tear together, sidled crabwise through the door, her cheeks hot.

Cosmo followed chuckling. A long narrow corridor burrowed ahead of them straight into the heart of the mountain. Flaring gas jets hissed at regular intervals along the walls.

All at once the grin was wiped from his face. He seized Mia's arm, said: "Hold it!"

Three men had edged into the corridor from a bisecting passage. They were huge, almost seven feet tall with skin a vivid blue. They were quite naked and the muscles bulged beneath their blue hides.

Cosmo felt the cold breath of death blow up his spine. His hand slid automatically to his shoulder holster. It was empty. With a curse, he remembered that it had been taken by the Blue Venus. Her dart gun, he'd tossed aside, once free of the Bemmelman plantation.

The three naked giants minced daintily closer, nostrils flaring as they caught their scent. "They're not amok," he said over his shoulder. "The rutting season is months off yet. There's something else behind this."

Mia said with incredulity: "Look at their left shoulders. See that scar. The fern leaf! That's Hal Bemmelman's brand! Cosmo, those are Bemmelman's slaves!"

The blue giants crouched. Their violet eyes were passionless, their handsome faces calm, inscrutable.

"Back!" Cosmo suddenly shouted in a tone of authority, and took a step toward them. A low snarl rumbled in their throats. Then like cats on a mouse, they pounced.

Cosmo kicked one of them in the belly, heard him grunt. With balled fist he swung at the placid handsome features of the second blue giant. Pain, like a hot iron, shot up his arm from his bruised knuckles. The Jovian shook his head, grabbed Cosmo's wrist, jerked. His arm felt as if it were being torn from the socket.

He kicked, slugged the emotionless face with his free hand. The grip never relaxed. He heard Mia scream again like a rabbit in a steel trap.

Then the Jovian clouted him brutally alongside the temple with his open fist. Cosmo's head snapped sideways like a punching bag. His knees collapsed. He seemed to be falling into the chasm of the waterfall, down, down into stygian blackness.

Cosmo gradually became aware of a jolting swaying movement. At each jolt, a flash of pain shot across his eyes. He sat up, cracked his skull against something solid. A blinding pain jolted him into full consciousness.

He was in a cage, he saw, swung on poles like a litter between two of the blue giants. They were jogging along through a forest.

At once he became aware of warmth along his side, twisted his head. Mia was regarding him from wide frightened eyes. They'd been tumbled side by side into the cage. The girl was almost naked, her yellow tunic in tatters.

He closed his eyes against the ache in his skull. If the pain would only let up. His mind felt fuzzy, his thoughts incoherent.

He could feel Mia shiver against him. "It was dreadful," she said. "They grabbed me— ugh! —and stuffed me in this cage. They had it hidden outside on the trail from the Ormoo's nest. Then they dumped you in on top of me like a bag of flour. I—I thought you were dead."

She regarded him dubiously, said: "They picked up the cage then and began to run down the trail. They carried us over the most impossible places, always down. I died with fright. Just a little while ago we came out into the forest."

"I know the trail," he said. "Nothing but Jovian primitives could have managed it. I wonder why Bemmelman didn't have me killed outright."

"Sure. They're his slaves. You saw the fern leaf brand on their shoulders. We walked straight into a trap."

Cosmo shook his head and immediately regretted it. "One of my men must be a spy. Bemmelman's shrewder than I've given him credit for being."

"I don't know. Unless he's after that fifty thousand monad reward on my head!" He frowned. "Bemmelman said something odd last night when he caught me in his house. He said he'd been trying to get in touch with me."

The blue giants swung effortlessly through the incredible forest. The trees were like cathedral columns disappearing in the swirling cloud blanket.

"You said we'd walked into a trap," insisted Mia. "How could Bemmelman know when you'd get back. I don't understand."

Cosmo snorted. "Anybody could guess I'd head for my hideout after the alarm at your place. Most likely, Bemmelman tipped that Judas of his by radio when to expect me. The Dawn Men are animals. They hunt by scent. That fellow must have given them a piece of my clothing, planted them in the corridor. It was as simple as that."

"Don't forget the Blue Venus. I told you he'd been trying to duplicate that experiment."

"I don't believe it," said Mia in a shocked voice. "He wouldn't dare! Would he?"

"What's to hinder him? At Venusport they'll think the Renegade abducted you. Who'd suspect that the eminent Councillor Bemmelman had hijacked me?"

"I don't believe it," she repeated indignantly. "You're just trying to throw mud on him because you think he murdered your parents and stole your plantation. It's—it's an obsession. You have no proof."

Cosmo regarded her with cloudy green eyes. "I had the Intersteller Investigation Bureau dig out his past. I've a man in Bemmelman's household right now. I know." He looked through the bars of the cage. They were approaching the edge of the forest. He turned back, said: "Something besides slave breeding is going on at Bemmelman's. There are parts of the plantation where my man never has been able to penetrate."

"I don't know. But hasn't it occurred to you that slave breeding must entail a slow turnover. A child isn't marketable until it's sixteen or seventeen at least."

"Suppose Bemmelman has discovered some way to speed up growth—to hasten maturity."

The blue giants, he saw, had broken through the last of the trees into a lush meadow of mauve fen grass.

"Look, Mia!" he pointed toward the center of the meadow. "The second lap of our journey is provided for. Our kidnapper shows considerable foresight."

In the center of the meadow, a small surface plane rested on the fen grass like a silver bullet. There was no sign of life inside or out.

The Jovian Dawn Men trotted straight to the empty plane. They opened a door in the side, shoved them within, cage and all. Cosmo heard the door click shut. The Dawn Men had not followed them inside.

He glanced curiously about the interior. All the seats had been removed, even the pilot's chair.

He shook his head. Through the port, he could see the blue giants disappearing among the trees.

He felt the plane lurch again, then shoot upward. At a hundred feet it leveled itself off, darted away on what he judged to be a southerly course. There was still no evidence of a pilot.

Mia MacIver held onto Cosmo like a drowning man to a straw as the pilotless plane hurtled southward.

He drew a long breath. "Robot pilot." He patted her shoulder. "There's nothing supernatural about it."

Mia pulled herself away. "I didn't mean to throw myself on you like that. I ... I...." She halted lamely.

"Don't apologize." Cosmo flashed her his quick wolfish grin. "I enjoyed it. You've been hurling yourself at me at fairly regular intervals all day."

"Mia," he said serious all at once, "if Bemmelman—er—disposes of me, you'll have to contact my man yourself. I told you I had a spy planted in his household. His name is Penang-ihtok."

"He's a Venusian, an outcast Fozoql. You can recognize him by the blue star tattooed on his forehead. Tell him that my orders are to have the men raid Bemmelman's plantation and carry you to Venusport."

"Of course," he added dryly; "I'm hopeful Bemmelman won't kill me right off, and I can contact Penang-ihtok myself. In which case, you won't need to bother your pretty head about it."

He yawned, stretched out as comfortably as he could arrange himself in their confined quarters, closed his eyes.

"Certainly. Nothing else to do." He patted his shoulder. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Well you don't need to be so assertive about it," said Mia, and laid her head gingerly on his shoulder.

Presently, she said in a sleepy voice, "I haven't leprosy either, in case you're worried."

Cosmo chuckled. The plane continued to steer itself arrow-like into the South of Mu.

A faint jerk brought Cosmo wide awake as some jungle animal. The plane, he realized had stopped, settled to Venus.

It was night. The green phosphorescent light of the luminous vegetation flooded through the port holes. From somewhere, the sound of a muffled bell, ringing, ringing, reached his ears.

Through the port, he could see a corner of a tower, part of a slate roof. The grotesque arms of a telo-antenna sprouted from the peak of the tower. He heard a door squeal open. The bell sounded louder, then it stopped to be replaced by the mutter of voices approaching.

The door opened. Cosmo caught sight of Bemmelman's gross features in the opening. He looked ghastly in the phosphorescent glow. Beyond him reared an immense gray pile of a building.

The planter's jaw dropped in disbelief as he recognized his captives. Then a tide of red swept up from his bull-like neck.

"Didn't you know?" said Cosmo dryly. "I'm trying to cure myself of claustrophobia."

But already, a shrewd gleam of triumph had replaced the disappointment in Bemmelman's pig-like brown eyes.

"You're the Renegade." He rubbed his hands together, began to grin. "Yes sir, you're the Renegade. I should have guessed it before. And you, Mia." He threw back his head, roared until the court reverberated with his heavy laughter.

Bemmelman stopped laughing, wiped his eyes. "Two birds with one stone. I didn't expect to catch both of you in the same trap. No sir, that I didn't." He stepped back, clapped his hands.

Two naked Blue Dawn Men appeared, hauled forth the cage, shouldered it. With Bemmelman following, they bore it across the court, into a doorway at the base of the lichen covered tower.

"I feel perfectly ridiculous," whispered Mia, bouncing around in the cage. "Thank goodness none of my friends can see me."

Cosmo chuckled, shot a glance after Bemmelman who was crossing the floor to an intercommunicating telecast. The room appeared to be a guard room. Weapons were racked against the walls, and a dozen naked blue giants lay sleeping on the floor. These raised their handsome, classical heads, surveyed the captives from incurious violet eyes. Cosmo put his lips against Mia's ear and said:

He heard Bemmelman say: "Switch on the current in the tower. Send Llana to me at once."

From the corner of his eye, Cosmo saw a sheet of flame sear across the door leading to the court beyond. Then it vanished.

Bemmelman approached, grinning amiably. He was wearing a snuff brown suit which set on him like a sack.

"Don't try to escape," cautioned the planter as he inserted a slender key in the spring lock, threw back the top of the cage. "You'd be electrocuted if you went through any of the outside doors or windows."

"We won't bolt, if that's what you mean," Cosmo replied dryly. He glanced at the handsome, impassive blue giants, discarded any idea of attacking Bemmelman directly.

"I'm happy to see you're amenable to reason, Cosmo. I sure am." He rubbed his nose. "Yes sir. I like a reasonable man. I'm going to be able to use you, Cosmo."

"That's what you said last night," Cosmo reminded him, his face blank. The palms of his hands were sweating. He wanted to run as fast and far from the sly, red-faced man as he could. Bemmelman, he was beginning to sense, was as slippery and dangerous as the infamous Venusian swamp rath.

A door at the rear of the chamber opened suddenly. Cosmo jumped. A glance assured him it was only a slave girl. She wasn't a Venusian, though. He frowned. She was from Earth.

The Terran girl regarded the prisoners curiously, then faced Bemmelman. "Rabaul said you wanted me." She was dressed in a green sarong which reached from her knees to her breasts. On her left shoulder was a small scar in the shape of a fern leaf: Bemmelman's brand.

"Yes sir," said the planter; "so I do. So I do, Llana. Be so good as to escort Miss MacIver to the tower apartment. Don't leave her."

"Keep your head, Mia." He gently disengaged her hand. "If you don't go, they'll drag you off willy-nilly."

Dispiritedly she followed the slave girl from the guardroom. She was so woebegone that Cosmo felt a wrench at his heart. He faced the planter, said in a hard voice, "What did you want with me?"

Bemmelman's eyelids drooped. He turned on his heel, said shortly, "Come along, Cosmo," and started for the door. "I want to have a talk with you. Yes sir, a very interesting talk."

Flanked by the two blue giants Cosmo followed his host down a long corridor, up a flight of steps and into a sumptuously furnished apartment. A yellow grass mat carpeted the floor from wall to wall. The furniture was covered with a coarse, woven fabric, barbaric in its color.

With a sigh, Bemmelman lowered himself into a lounge chair, indicated another for Cosmo.

"You're tired. You've had an uncomfortable journey. I won't keep you up long." He rang a bell.

With amazing promptness, a wizened Mercurian scurried through a sliding wall panel.

"Krudo juice," said Bemmelman; "cold. And sandwiches. Better bring a bottle of food concentrates, too."

Cosmo was staring at the bank of open windows. They gave onto a Venusian garden of grotesque beauty, each plant and shrub sparkling with a cold phosphorescence. Several insects, the huge, bird-like insects of Venus, winged in from the garden. As they reached the window, there was a sudden sparkle of flame. The insects dropped dead to the floor.

"An excellent warning," Bemmelman said in a silky voice. "The force screens, you know. Yes sir, not only do they discourage guests from straying; but they keep intruders outside."

"Gadget?" The red-faced planter threw back his head, laughed uproariously. "You're a droll rogue, you are. I like a man with a sense of humor." He rubbed his nose, then pointed to a picture above the sofa. "Recognize her, don't you?"

Cosmo saw a three dimensional photograph of a nude. Her skin was pale blue, flushed with healthy rose, her hair like molten gold.

"Sofi," Cosmo said with distaste. "The Blue Venus. I should think, Bemmelman, you'd have to wait rather long for your profits."

"So I do. So I do. But it's possible to harvest a yearly crop from a forest. Trees grow even slower than people. I'll show you the slave pens tomorrow. I've only the one Blue Venus, though. Unfortunately the rest have been males."

Cosmo wondered why the planter had called attention to the Blue Venus. He suspected that Bemmelman was subtly trying to find out if he had learned anything from Sofi.

"What do you do with the males?" he asked, prompted by something in Bemmelman's voice.

Cosmo bit his lip. Bemmelman was a monster. He wondered what the sealed chambers held, the chambers where his spy Penang-ihtok had never been able to penetrate.

"I suppose," said the planter unexpectedly; "you're curious about what I wanted with you?"

"Well sir, I could have had you killed back in the caves of the Cloud Mountains. I've had a spy among your men for some time." He paused as the Mercurian returned, deposited a tray between them. It held a silver pitcher of krudo juice, thin sandwiches, a bottle of food concentrates.

"Go ahead," said Cosmo when the Mercurian had departed. He popped two of the pills into his mouth.

"Where was I? Oh yes. I could have had you assassinated several times, but you've some information I want?"

The planter leaned forward, tapped him on the knee. "That bird. The Giant Ormoo. Oh yes, I know how you escaped from the roof last night. Yes sir, and very neat, too." He beamed amiably. "I want to know where the Ormoos feed."

"That's my secret," said the beefy planter. "Yes sir, that's my secret. But I'm a business man, Cosmo. Show me where the Ormoo feeds, and I'll make it worth your while."

Cosmo sat back, his face blank. The planter, he realized, had no more idea of paying him five thousand monad than he had of adopting him. He'd agreed to the preposterous sum too readily. Cosmo's green eyes hardened.

"But you won't. You can't. No sir. If you refused, I'll be forced to kill you and trace the bird myself."

"The devil you will." Cosmo could feel sweat starting from his forehead. "That bird's savage as a tiger. You've already tried to trace it to its feeding ground, haven't you? That's why you planted a spy among my men, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir," Bemmelman admitted with a sigh. "I don't mind telling you he was supposed to find out what and where the bird ate. But it damn near tore him to pieces."

Bemmelman leaned forward, tapped his knee again. "Unfortunately, the birds are rare as the dodo. I've spent quite a bit of money trying to locate another. The only one that's been caught is in the Solar Apiary on Earth."

Mention of the Ormoo in the Solar Apiary stirred Cosmo's memory. He stared at Bemmelman with narrowed eyes. The Ormoo in its wild state matured to its full size in a few months. The one which the Terran expedition had secured, hadn't reached adulthood until its nineteenth year. The discrepancy had been puzzling ornithologists ever since. Theories had flooded the scientific journals, but to date, no one had explained satisfactorily why a wild Ormoo should mature over twenty times as fast as the same bird in captivity.

"If I show you where the Ormoo feeds, what guarantee have I that you'll carry out your side of the bargain?"

Two rouge-like spots sprang out on Cosmo's cheek bones. He came halfway erect in his chair.

Cosmo turned his head. The two Jovian primitives were crouched to spring. He sank back in his chair, managed a tight grin. His lips felt dry, his stomach hollow.

"I don't think you appreciate your position, Cosmo," said the planter silkily. "No sir, I don't." He heaved himself from his chair with a grunt. "I've something to show you. Come with me."

The two Jovian Dawn Men fell in beside Cosmo again as he trailed the planter down three steps, along a short corridor to a sunken court. Bemmelman paused, pointed to a huge wooden cross in the center of the court.

Cosmo felt his blood run cold. His fists clenched until the nails bit into the flesh.

The body of Penang-ihtok hung from the cross. The outcast Fozoql had been crucified upside down.

"You see," said Bemmelman, his voice heavy with assurance; "how futile it is to oppose me."

Cosmo turned away from the cross with its grisly burden. He looked coldly, speculatively at Bemmelman's beefy smiling face. At the look, fright glimmered in the planter's eyes. He made a quick gesture to the Jovians who seized Cosmo by either arm.

Cosmo was conducted into a plainly, but comfortably furnished room. One of the blue giants immediately stretched himself on the sofa and went to sleep. The other, though, took a stance by the door, folded his arms, regarded Cosmo with the unwinking stare of an idol. Obviously, the Jovian primitives intended to spell each other.

With a grunt of annoyance, Cosmo retreated into the bathroom. He had grossly underestimated Bemmelman, he realized with chagrin. A malignant genius, the slave breeder had no more scruples than his Dawn Men.

Cosmo heard a soft step behind him, whirled around. His Jovian guard was standing placidly just within the door.

Cosmo got a grip on himself, shot the giant his flashing grin. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

He stripped off coat and trousers, hung them carefully over the Jovian's shoulder, stepped under the shower.

Considerably refreshed, he returned to his sleeping chamber, crawled raw into the huge bed. But sleep escaped him. That stark cross, the body illuminated by the radiations of the lichens and mosses, persisted in thrusting itself before his eyes. He clenched his fists, trembled in an agony of impotent fury. Somehow, he'd trip up Bemmelman, smash his disgusting racket.

Cosmo awakened in the huge bed, sweating with terror. The echo of some nameless horror still rang in his ears. He saw the Dawn Man, motionless as a statue, watching him with animal patience. Then he heard it again.

It was a girl's scream. It reached him faintly. It went on and on. He leaped out of bed, tugged on his trousers.

The Dawn Man sprang across the room to intercept him. Cosmo seized a metal chair, swung it with the same movement. It caught the blue giant on his head and shoulders. The blow would have felled an ox. The Jovian folded onto the carpet, lay still. Cosmo thought he must be dead.

The second Jovian primitive jumped from the sofa at the crash. He had awakened like an animal. With a low snarl, he leaped for Cosmo.

Cosmo ducked under his first rush, crashed the chair down on the back of his head. The giant staggered groggily, but didn't go down.

Cosmo measured the distance, walloped him again. The second blue giant went over like a falling tree.

Without stopping for coat or shoes, Cosmo hurtled into the hall. The screaming had been silenced. The building was quiet as a deserted church.

He set out at a lope in the direction of the tower where Mia was confined. That had been Mia screaming, he was sure. He'd recognized the timbre of her voice.

His heart thudding, he reached a stair, took the steps two at a time. It bent sharply to the left, went up another flight. He must be in the tower itself. The silence was oppressive. He wished fervently he had a dart gun, a ray projector, anything that would serve as a weapon. The steps continued to wind upward.

Gasping for breath, he reached the fifth level. From beneath a door seeped a crack of light. He sniffed. A peculiar odor impinged on his nostrils. Then he heard Bemmelman's rough voice like the rasp of iron.

He rammed the door with his shoulder. It burst open as if exploded. For a second he was poised in the doorway, big, rangy, naked to the waist, his hands hooked like claws, his nostrils distended.

The planter was standing beside an operating table upon which Mia MacIver was strapped. He fell back a step, raised his arm in a gesture of defense.

Cosmo's rush bowled him over backward. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Cosmo was on him like a cat on a mouse. Time after time, he drove his fist into the planter's face. A blinding rage shook him to the marrow.

He swung off the insensible Bemmelman, twisted to his feet. He saw Llana, the Terran slave girl, directly behind him. Her arm was upraised, her fist clutching a needle like dagger. With a sob, she plunged it downward toward his heaving chest.

Cosmo caught her wrist in a grip of iron, tore the dagger from her fingers. Contemptuously, he tossed the girl into a corner of the room, turned to Mia.

She gave a sob of relief. "Yes, yes! But get me out of this iron lung before I pass out."

He fumbled hastily at the clamps. Her hair was tumbled. One shoulder of her tattered yellow tunic had been torn down to her stomach. He paused suddenly, his eyes dilating.

There was an angry red scar above Mia's left breast. He realized what the smell on the landing outside the tower room had been. It was the odor of burning flesh.

"Never mind." Cosmo could hear her clatter down the stair. "We've got a hostage." He gave Mia a wry grin, added, "that is, if I haven't killed Bemmelman."

Mia shivered, leaned against him. He glanced down, saw she was regarding him strangely. With a dry sob she buried her head on his shoulder.

"Cosmo, Cosmo, don't ever leave me again." Her voice was almost lost. "Take me with you—into the mountains."

He frowned, said: "You crazy kid. You don't know what you're saying. I'm an outlaw. There's no way to prove Bemmelman murdered my father and mother. And even if there was, that wouldn't clear me. Every crime the Security Patrol hasn't been able to solve has been laid at my doorstep."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't make any difference. As long as the Renegade is alive they'll hunt. They'd trail me, extradite me."

Cosmo tore himself away, knelt beside the unconscious planter. He drew a dart gun from Bemmelman's pocket, said: "He's alive."

With a grunt, he hoisted the slack body over his shoulder. The alarm bells were pealing louder.

"I saw a telo-antenna on the roof of the tower when we were in the court. I've a hunch the telo-projector is somewhere above us."

Mia MacIver, clutching the tunic about her shoulder, asked: "But can't we run for it?"

Bent under his heavy burden, Cosmo strode from the room, up the steps to the next level. Saying, "What's this?" he pressed the button of a sliding panel. The door slid back in its oiled grooves. "Whew!" he said. "My lady's chamber."

It was a large room, octagon shaped and carpeted wall to wall with the shaggy gray fur of the Polar Aard. But the most startling feature was the mirrors. The walls were paneled solid in mirrors. It gave the impression that the room stretched on forever.

"Well!" said Mia; "if this is the telecast operator's room, he's a voluptuous creature!"

Cosmo snorted, stepped across the threshold. At once replicas of themselves flashed in all the mirrored chambers.

Cosmo heard a click behind him, whirled around. The door through which they'd just passed was shut. In every direction, they were faced by an endless vista of mirrored chambers.

"Who isn't?" said Cosmo shortly and dropped Bemmelman to the floor with a thud. "What are you staring at?" He whipped around again.

A second door in the mirrors stood ajar. Framed in the entrance was a magnificently beautiful girl in skimpy shorts and bra. She was the twin of the photograph below stairs.

There was no recognition in the Blue Venus' violet eyes. Her flawless pale-blue features revealed neither shock nor surprise.

"Oh. That's too bad," she said in a calm manner, and swept up to the prostrate slave breeder, planted a kick in the seat of his pants. "There! I've never had the nerve to do that when he was conscious."

Bemmelman stirred, opened his eyes, sat up groggily. His face was puffy, swollen. Blood had dried on his chin. He didn't say anything.

The clatter of many feet resounded on the stair outside the boudoir. Mia clutched Cosmo's arm, said: "They're coming!"

Cosmo took the dart gun from his pocket, narrowed his green eyes. "You go first, Bemmelman, if they rush us. Understand?"

The slave breeder glared at Cosmo, moistened his battered lips. "What do you want me to do?" He spoke with difficulty.

Cosmo saw one of the mirrors shiver violently. Then the panel slid back. The stair was jammed with naked blue Jovians and Venusian serfs. The slave girl, Llana, was in the forefront. She pointed at Cosmo, screamed: "There they are!"

The rescuers halted, stared stupidly. The ones in the rear continued to push forward causing momentary confusion.

"Get out!" Bemmelman raged. "Get out, you fools! D'you want to get me killed? Clear the tower!"

Cosmo stepped after them, slid shut the panel. He could hear their footsteps retreating down the stair. He let his breath escape through his teeth.

Mia seized a candlestick from a dainty Martian table, said, "This isn't going to hurt me half as bad as it will you," to Sofi.

Cosmo dug the dart gun into Bemmelman's kidneys. "Let's go up to the telecast room." He pushed the planter ahead of him through the door.

Cosmo thought he detected a glint of triumph in the slave breeder's eyes. "Up the steps," he said grimly. "At the first sign of treachery, Bemmelman, I'm pulling the trigger."

They reached the telecast room without opposition. It was a small square chamber banked with control panels. An opaque screen was built into the left wall. There was only one chair.

Cosmo closed the door, motioned Mia and the Blue Venus to one side. "Now, Bemmelman, call your head overseer; have him shut down the force screens."

The red-faced planter laughed shortly, said: "No sir." He had regained his composure. "No sir, you won't kill me. You'd be throwing away your only chance to stay alive. The force screen stays up."

"That's what I thought you'd say." Cosmo slipped the dart gun in his pocket. His eyes became hard green stones. "What about the Ormoo's feeding ground? Why do you want to know where they eat?"

Cosmo knocked him sprawling against the wall. He heard Mia gasp. He said evenly: "What about the Ormoo?"

Bemmelman tasted the blood in his mouth, said: "You'll never leave here alive, Cosmo. You won't be able to carry tales.... Now wait a moment! There's a plant the birds eat that contains a drug...." He paused.

Cosmo's eyes narrowed. He had the impression that the planter was listening, waiting for something to happen. He said, "Go ahead."

"How did you hit on the discovery?" A feeling of revulsion made Cosmo's hands tremble, but his features were inscrutable.

Bemmelman chuckled amiably. "This information won't do you a bit of good," he said. "No sir, not a bit."

Bemmelman shrugged. "Well sir, I've been curious about how much longer it takes for an Ormoo in captivity to mature than the wild bird. The wild Ormoo, you know, reaches its full growth in less than a year. That's an amazing phenomenon when you consider its size. Yes sir...." He paused again, mouth open, then hastily went on: "Yes sir. I wondered if it wasn't the wild birds' diet. I sent a man into the Cloud Mountains to locate an Ormoo. He found your bird's nest."

Cosmo's green eyes were opaque. Revulsion for the slave breeder welled in his throat.

Bemmelman's manner was derisive. He rubbed his nose, said: "One day my man found a shrub in the nest. He sent it to me on the chance that it might be what I was looking for. It was. The leaves contain a drug, which, when injected into the bloodstream, accelerates maturity at an unbelievable rate." His lids drew down. "I injected it into one of the slave children in minute doses every twenty days. The child reached adolescence in eighteen months. In two years' time, she was full grown."

"You can breed slaves like guinea pigs now, eh Bemmelman?" Cosmo's voice was low. "And in two years' time have them ready for the market."

"Nothing. Nothing at all." His little eyes darted about the room. "Unfortunately," he went on hurriedly, "I used up all the drug on the experiment, and I haven't been able to locate any more of the plants. No sir, we've scoured the Cloud Mountains. They're difficult to explore. Infra red rays help some, but not much."

"Who is he? Tell me, Bemmelman, or by heavens, I'll work you over until your own mother couldn't recognize you."

Cosmo hit him in the mouth. The planter's head struck the wall. He slid down to the floor, said groggily: "It doesn't matter. No sir. I won't need him any more. He's a Martian. His name's Natal."

Cosmo wasn't surprised. They'd found the Martian wandering apparently lost in the mountains. A sly fellow, always curious, always prying.

Cosmo turned to the telecast. He felt Mia's horrified eyes on him; the child-like stare of the Blue Venus. He switched on the telecast, signaled his headquarters in the Cloud Mountains. At the third attempt, he got through.

To his surprise, the inscrutable mien of the Mercurian runaway flashed on the visoscreen. His amber eyes twinkled, a smile split his Buddha-like face, and he bowed three times until Cosmo could only see the top of his head.

"I see you got through all right," said Cosmo dryly. A faint hiss seemed to be coming through the audio. He tried to tune it out, but the hiss persisted.

"Yes," said the Mercurian. "Delightful fellows. But blood-thirsty. You should hear the tales they've been telling." He shuddered.

Cosmo frowned. The hissing noise was louder. He said: "I haven't time for you to call him. I'm at the Bemmelman plantation. I'm holding Bemmelman himself as a hostage. Tell Big Unse to bring the Ormoo. You follow in the surface plane with the men. Don't land. Hang in the clouds above the plantation until I whistle for the Ormoo. Oh yes. Be sure that Natal, the Martian, comes along. Got it?"

Cosmo flipped off the telecast, frowned. The hissing had not stopped. There was the faintest smell of roses in the air. He felt suddenly dizzy. Mia gave a small cry and crumpled to the floor.

"Paralysis gas!" he thought and wheeled toward Bemmelman, almost lost his balance as he did so.

The planter's head had dropped on his chest. He raised it groggily, leered with triumph at Cosmo. "Concealed tubes," he muttered. "Every room."

Cosmo swayed. He fumbled at his pocket. His hand emerged with the dart gun. He strained to elevate the gun, send a poisoned needle into the slave breeder. His muscles refused to obey him. The gun sagged. His knees sagged. Then slowly, he toppled sideways.

Cosmo opened his eyes in the office with the glassite desk. He sat up. Chains rattled. He realized with chagrin that he was manacled hand and foot.

Bemmelman was on the sofa. A serf, directed by the slave girl, Llana, was working over him. Mia and the Blue Venus were stretched out on the floor beside him, still unconscious. Both of them were manacled. Two Blue giants watched incuriously.

In a moment, Bemmelman stirred. He sat up, swung his feet to the floor. His eyes lit on Cosmo. With a grunt he crossed the room, kicked the manacled man in the ribs.

The planter swung on his servitors, barked: "Get out!" They left the room, all except Llana. He turned back to Cosmo, said: "I'm through playing around with you. Yes sir. Where's the Ormoo's feeding ground?"

Bemmelman's face went purple. He kicked Cosmo viciously in the ribs. "Where's the feeding ground? Where is it? Where is it?"

Mia regained consciousness, sat up. She stared wide-eyed at the berserk planter.

Bemmelman glanced at her, paused. He rubbed his nose, a fiendish light shining in his pig-like eyes. He said in a sudden altered tone: "I'm still willing to bargain, Cosmo."

"Either you reveal the location of the feeding grounds, or I hand Miss MacIver over to the Dawn Men. Yes sir, I'm anxious to repeat that experiment." He pointed to the Blue Venus who was just coming out from under the effects of the gas.

Cosmo's features were inscrutable. He asked: "What happens to Miss MacIver if I give you that information?"

"I'll release her in Venusport with her fare back to Earth. I'm holding personal notes on the MacIver plantation anyway."

"Notes?" echoed Mia blankly. "Father never mentioned any notes. I—I don't believe it!"

A veil dropped before Bemmelman's eyes. "I haven't told you before. I didn't like to so soon after your father's death. But I lent him considerable money. Yes sir, considerable."

"What d'you mean?" The red-faced planter looked faintly rattled. He took a threatening step.

"You kick me again," said Cosmo, "and I'll kill you if I have to bite you to death."

"You're worth fifty thousand monad on the hoof, Cosmo. Yes sir. I'm going to turn you and your men over to the Security Patrol."

"Talk?" Bemmelman threw back his head and roared. "Talk d'you say? Who'll believe anything the Renegade says?"

"Miss MacIver? What can she tell? Aren't you forgetting, Cosmo, that I rescued her from you. Yes sir. What's more, I've captured you, and I'm turning you over to the officials." His eyes twinkled. "Who's she going to tell, anyway?"

Cosmo's lean visage was unreadable. So that, he thought, was the line Bemmelman planned to take. Only Mia MacIver would never be released. He wondered if the planter really considered him such a fool. He said: "You don't give me much choice," and twisted to his feet. He hobbled to the desk, dropped awkwardly into the chair. "Give me pen and paper."

"Here's the Cloud Mountains." Hindered by the manacles, Cosmo sketched a chain of hills, indicated north with a crude compass. He placed a dot halfway into the mountains, then laid off a line from the dot running diagonally into the most rugged sector. He shoved the paper across to Bemmelman. "The first dot's the Ormoo's nest. You know where it is?"

Cosmo closed his eyes, sighed faintly. "The mountains are impassable except by plane, and then its all blind flying. Rise to an altitude of four thousand meters. You'll clear any peaks that way. Starting at the Ormoo's nest, fly due North, Northwest for a distance of ninety-three kilometers." He paused.

Only the scrape of Bemmelman's pen could be heard as the planter wrote the directions on the bottom of the map.

"Drop straight into the valley," Cosmo went on as the pen scratching ceased. "It's narrow, a canyon. The floor of the valley is at an altitude of one thousand, seven hundred meters, so you'll be in clouds all the time. It's tricky navigating."

Bemmelman stopped writing, waved the paper dry. Then he folded it, put it away in the wall safe, behind the sliding panel. "This had better be right," he said ominously.

Cosmo, opening his eyes, said: "It's right. I've been there a dozen times. The first time the bird carried me there accidentally before he was well trained."

"Good." Bemmelman glanced at his watch. "Now Cosmo, we'll lay a trap for those men of yours. Yes sir. They should be along any minute. How many have you?"

"Nine." Again Cosmo emitted a faint sigh. "What do you want me to do?" He realized that Mia and Llana both were staring at him with distaste. Only the Blue Venus seemed untouched.

"You're a sensible man, Cosmo, a sensible man." The planter rubbed his hands together triumphantly. He snapped on the intercommunicating telecast on the glassite desk, said into it: "Rabaul!"

"You can thank Llana," came the voice of the overseer from the audio. Cosmo recognized the sibilant accent of a Martian. "She gave the alarm."

Bemmelman grunted. "Take twenty Jovians," he said, "and a dozen serfs. Arm the serfs with Ray Rifles. Hide them about the roof. The Renegade's men will try to land shortly and I'd like to prepare a welcome for 'em."

The planter switched off the telecast. He looked at Cosmo, smiled, said: "Whistle 'em down, Cosmo, that's all. My Jovians will take care of the rest."

"It's daylight," said the Blue Venus with an air of childish surprise. She was looking out the windows.

Cosmo was aware of the heat, all at once. It curled about him like a steaming towel. He looked at Mia. There were circles under her eyes. Her hair was tangled, her tunic in threads. "Poor kid," he said.

Bemmelman glanced at his watch. "Your men should be up in the clouds now, waiting? Eh, Cosmo?"

"We'll give them another hour," said Bemmelman, "to be on the safe side." He rang for a servant, ordered breakfast served in the office.

They picked at their food listlessly when it arrived. Bemmelman kept glancing at his watch. At length, he stood up, turned to the slave girl. "Call the Security Patrol, Llana."

"Get hold of the Commissioner. Tell him we've caught the Renegade." He chuckled amiably. "That should make him sit up. Yes sir. Tell him to get right out here, though, because the Renegade's men are trying to rescue him."

A girl's features, horsefaced, blonde, formed on the screen. "Venusport Security Patrol," she said.

The screen blanked out as the horsefaced girl switched to the Commissioner's office. In a moment, the fat face and shoulders of the Commissioner blotted out half the screen. His eyes were puffy. His jowls sagged. He looked as if he were suffering from a hangover.

"We've got the Renegade here at the plantation. But hurry! His men are trying to rescue him. Please hurry!"

The Commissioner leaped out of vision forgetting to shut off the telecast. They could hear his bull-like voice roaring orders. Llana snapped off the machine, turned indifferently to the windows.

Bemmelman chuckled, said, "Keep your eyes on Miss MacIver, Llana. Don't let Sofi go galavanting around either." He took the chains off Cosmo's ankles, but left his hands manacled. Next he went to his desk, took out a dart gun. He said, "Come along," to Cosmo and led the way into the corridor.

They didn't go through the trap this time, but up in the tower where a door gave directly onto the flat roof. Cosmo saw that the chamber just inside the door was jammed with naked blue giants and Venusian serfs.

A tall, black eyed Martian, foppishly dressed in spite of the heat came to meet them. He wrinkled his nose at the stale odor of sweat already thick in the room, picked his way through the men.

"I didn't deploy them on the roof," he said in the sibilant accent of the Red Planet, "because there's no cover. They'd be spotted at once. They can rush the Renegade's men through the door." He examined Cosmo curiously.

Bemmelman rubbed his hands together, said: "That's right, Rabaul. Yes sir, I'm glad you thought of that." He glanced through the door at the low swirling cloud mass, then turned back to Cosmo. "Get out on the roof. Whistle 'em down. No tricks, now."

Cosmo stepped through the door into the hot, dim daylight. He glanced aloft, put two fingers in his mouth, whistled loudly. He had trouble managing the cuffs, but he blew again and again.

His eyes swept the heavens, but no sign of bird or plane appeared through the veiling clouds.

Cosmo shook his head. He put his fingers back in his mouth, whistled until he was red in the face. He might as well have whistled for a wind.

Bemmelman stamped out of the tower. He scoured the low roof of clouds, an ominous glitter in his pig-like eyes.

"You know as much about it as I do." Cosmo shrugged. "They're not there or they'd come down."

"How the hell would I be tricking you?" Cosmo asked irritably. "You heard me give my orders over the telecast. They're not there, that's all. And I'm damn glad they're not!"

The planter continued to stare at him suspiciously. Cosmo could feel his plan hanging precariously in the balance, then Bemmelman said: "It doesn't matter, I suppose. They can be rounded up later. The Security Patrol will be here any moment." He shoved Cosmo ahead of him into the tower.

Cosmo let his breath escape evenly. He could feel little beads of sweat on his forehead.

The red-faced planter slipped the dart gun out of his pocket. "Rabaul," he ordered grumpily; "Get the men back to their quarters."

The Martian elevated his eyebrows, but Bemmelman vouchsafed no explanation. The planter watched his overseer herd the men down the stair, then turned to Cosmo as the last of the Jovians were disappearing. The dart gun dangled in his fist at his side. His eyes were mean.

In that instant Bemmelman sensed danger. His eyes widened. He tried to whip up the dart gun. Then Cosmo's manacles smashed the planter along side the head.

It was a terrible blow. The red-faced slave breeder caved to the floor as if his bones had turned to jelly. For a moment, Cosmo thought he'd killed him. He stooped, found Bemmelman's pulse. It was weak but steady. Grim-lipped, he leaped back to the roof.

Cursing his manacles, Cosmo fumbled a whistle from his pocket. He wet his lips, blew. As the time he'd summoned the Ormoo to carry off Mia, the high shrill note was inaudible to human ears.

Bemmelman, Cosmo thought grimly, had been a bit too clever. The planter had heard him say whistle over the telecast. It hadn't occurred to him that the Ormoo might be trained only to notes in the higher register.

He glanced aloft. The cloud blanket began to boil suddenly. Then the Ormoo plummeted soundlessly to the roof. Big Unse, the blue star of the Fozoql caste tattooed on his yellow forehead, his face split by a grin, leaped silently from its back.

Cosmo shook his head, watching a surface plane nose cautiously down from the clouds. "There's a girl below stairs."

Big Unse scowled in disgust. "Why," he asked practically, "do you have to have that particular one?"

The surface plane came to rest lightly beside the Ormoo. The door was flung open and eight men piled out, weapons in their hands. There was no word spoken. Five were swarthy Venusian serfs. There was the yellow eyed Mercurian, bland, smiling unarmed. There was Natal, the traitorous Martian, and the blue Jovian.

Cosmo slapped the Ormoo on the side. It launched itself silently into the air. "The plane won't be noticed," he said; "but that bird would catch the eye of a dead man." He nodded toward the tower. Like wolves they followed him silently inside.

"The manacles." Cosmo's voice was low as he held out his arms. "Bemmelman has the key."

Big Unse dropped beside the unconscious planter. He dug out the key, unlocked Cosmo's wrists.

"Put them on Bemmelman," said Cosmo. As soon as the planter was securely cuffed, he said, "pick him up. Bring him along."

They crept down the stairs, fanned out like hunting dogs. Without appearing to do so, Cosmo kept Natal, the spy, under observation. They reached the corridor, started for the office. A serf came out of a bisecting passage. He saw them, drew back, tried to yell. Two of the Venusians were on him like tigers. They clamped a hand over his mouth, held him so that he couldn't wriggle.

Big Unse put his face down close to the serf's, said, "Don't cry out, or by the star on my forehead, I'll skin you alive."

The serf's eyes rolled. He nodded vigorously trying to convey his absolute willingness to cooperate.

There was a faint amused gleam in Cosmo's eyes. He paused before the office, then slid the panel back.

Mia and the Blue Venus, still manacled, stumbled to their feet. Llana, the slave woman jerked around from the windows, her jaw dropping. Then she bit her lip, glanced at the button on the glassite desk.

"Stay away from the desk, Llana," Cosmo admonished her. He stood aside, allowed his men to file into the office. They deposited Bemmelman on the sofa. Cosmo saw that Natal was safely inside, shut the door. At his nod, Big Unse unlocked both the girls.

Mia said: "But ... but...." Then a look of fright wiped away the relief on her wide gray eyes. "The Security Patrol! Cosmo, they'll be here any moment! Please Cosmo, don't let them catch you!"

"It's too late." Cosmo smiled grimly. "I've a hunch that's the Security Patrol now." He turned to the Terran slave girl, said: "Llana, string along with me, and I'll promise that both you and your daughter are provided with passage to Earth."

"I've suspected," he corrected her. "There's a resemblance. So Sofi really is your daughter."

Mia looked from the Blue Venus to Llana in bewilderment. There didn't seem to be over five years difference in their ages. "It's ... it's impossible!" she blurted out.

At mention of the planter's name Llana stiffened. "He'll kill Sofi if I betray him!"

"You haven't any evidence against him," she insisted. "Even if you had, they wouldn't believe the Renegade."

"The Security Patrol is here," came Rabaul's voice. "What shall I do with them?"

Llana glanced deadfaced at Cosmo, who said in an undertone: "Tell him to send the Commissioner here. Have his men served with refreshments."

Cosmo went behind the glassite desk, sat down. He leveled his dart gun straight at Natal, the Martian.

"Natal," he said in a cold manner. "Bemmelman sold you down the river. He told me you were his spy."

The Martian blanched, but his black eyes were hard as marbles. "I should have guessed the pig would betray me."

"Follow my lead," said Cosmo to Natal, concealing the dart gun up his sleeve. "Because, so help me, if you don't, you're a dead Martian."

Bemmelman groaned, sat up. He regarded the scene in disbelief. Then his little pig eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything and Cosmo ignored him.

Mia looked wretched, frightened. "No," she said and bit her lip to stifle the rest of the protest.

The fat commissioner waddled inside. He was even fatter than he appeared over the visoscreen. He bulged in his clothes like a sausage.

"Well, Hal," he began in a hearty voice, "you lucky dog. The fifty thou...." The words stuck in his throat. He stared at the hard faced green eyed man behind the desk, at Bemmelman in irons. He revolved slowly, taking in the silent men about the walls, the three girls. "Wh-what's this?" He sputtered, but there was a sick, frightened look in his eyes. "Where's the Renegade?"

"There he is, Commissioner," replied Cosmo dryly. "All done up in irons." He pointed at Bemmelman lying manacled on the sofa.

Bemmelman was the first to recover his voice. His neck swelled. He laughed hoarsely. "Nobody's fool enough to believe I'm the Renegade, Cosmo."

"You're crazy, young man," the Commissioner burst out as he caught his breath. "If this is a joke, it's in remarkably poor taste."

"You lying rogue," Bemmelman shouted. "This has gone far enough. There's your Renegade, Commissioner."

"Keep him quiet, Big Unse," said Cosmo softly, "until I finish. He can talk his head off then."

Big Unse doubled his fist, shook it in Bemmelman's face. The planter subsided, but a cunning gleam winked in his little brown eyes.

The Commissioner drew a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at his forehead. He sank into a chair with a groan. "Talk fast, young man," he said. "And it had better be good." He eyed Cosmo with obvious distrust.

Cosmo took a moisture-proof cigarette case from his pocket, snapped it open. "I realize, Commissioner, this must be quite a shock. Bemmelman's been powerful in politics. He has allies in high places. But when they learn he's the Renegade, they'll be the first to disown him." He took a cigarette out of the case, eyed it critically, put it back. "Even rats," he added, glancing up at the Commissioner, "have sense enough to leave a sinking ship."

"Um," said the Commissioner. He looked discomfited, shot a sly glance at the manacled planter.

Bemmelman started to roar a protest, but Big Unse grinned, shook his hammer-like fist in his face.

"I'd better sketch in his background," said Cosmo judicially. "He was an organic chemist on Earth, but got involved in a forgery case. He next showed up smuggling Jovian primitives to Venus. The T.I.S. got on his trail, but they were never able to pin anything on him."

"You don't need to take my word. It's all in the records. You can investigate them yourself."

"Um," said the Commissioner again and dabbed at his forehead. He purposefully avoided Bemmelman's eye.

Cosmo glanced at Mia who was regarding him in sheer amazement. He smiled at her, said: "Bemmelman figured it'd be safer to breed slaves here on Venus rather than run the risk of capture by the Empire's Patrol Spacers. But he found that land on Venus can't be bought except in rare cases." He paused, looked at the apoplectic slave breeder.

"Bemmelman murdered my father having first provided himself with forged notes to the plantation. You'll remember, he was mixed up with a forgery case on Earth."

"Here are the notes." Cosmo pulled two packets of papers from his pocket, tossed them to the Commissioner's lap. "You'll find notes for old MacIver's plantation there, too. Bemmelman had decided to grab it off too."

"They're good," said Cosmo. "But it won't be too hard to prove they're forgeries."

The Commissioner rustled the papers. "But what's all this to do with the Renegade? I came out here to collar him, not rattle old bones."

Cosmo pointed his right hand lazily at Natal, the Martian spy. It was the arm with the dart gun up its sleeve. Natal blanched.

"Natal wanted to quit. Bemmelman had tried to sell him out." Cosmo subtly reminded the Martian of the planter's treachery. "He came to me."

"He knew I was trying to prove Bemmelman murdered my father and mother and stole my plantation." Cosmo shrugged, added in a pointed tone. "I told him that if he would—ah—share his information with you, Commissioner, that the two of you could split the fifty thousand monad reward. I'd be satisfied with regaining my plantation."

The fat Commissioner's eyes shone with cupidity. He and the astounded Martian exchanged glances.

Bemmelman, who hadn't missed this by-play, roared and half flung himself from the sofa.

The Commissioner regarded Bemmelman with a frown. Then he turned away, asked in a changed voice: "Will Natal go on the witness stand?"

Natal ran the tip of his tongue over his thin lips. He gave Bemmelman a venomous glance, said: "He's the Renegade all right. We holed up in the Cloud Mountains. Bemmelman gave us our orders, for the most part, over a special frequency radio phone. He never let anyone here on the plantation guess he was the Renegade. He played a dual role."

The Commissioner ignored him, kept his eyes on Natal. "You can show us the hideout?"

"Natal's not the only witness," said Cosmo. He pointed at Mia. "The Renegade kidnapped Miss MacIver. She tried to reach you by telecast."

"She did!" The Commissioner enthusiastically smacked his right fist in his left palm. "By heaven, she did! But when my men got there, he'd gotten away with her."

"I don't think she'll object to taking the witness stand either," said Cosmo in a thoughtful voice. "After all, Bemmelman murdered her father."

"No." Mia's voice was so low that the Commissioner had to bend forward to hear her. "No. I won't mind being a witness. Bemmelman kidnapped me."

"I didn't kidnap her. I rescued her from the Renegade." The sweat was pouring from the planter's forehead.

The girl's head jerked up. She said in a ringing voice, "Then how do you explain this?" and exposed the brand on her shoulder.

"You might call the head overseer and check on Bemmelman's movements," suggested Cosmo.

Llana switched on the telecast. "Rabaul," she said, "the Commissioner wants you in the office."

A laugh rumbled up from the Commissioner's belly, shook all three of his chins. "You're done for, Hal. What's the combination?"

Grudgingly Bemmelman told him. "But you won't find anything there," he added vindictively. "I'm going to sink you."

"Um," said the Commissioner in disappointment, leafing through the papers. "Maybe we can dig something incriminating out of this mess. I don't know. Hey! What's this?" He held up the paper upon which Bemmelman had written the directions for reaching the Ormoo's feeding ground. "Looks like a map!"

"It is a map," replied Cosmo grimly. "I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't the location of the loot from the plantations Bemmelman's men have raided."

Rabaul regarded his employer blankly. "You're certainly not the Renegade so far as I know."

"Of course not," interrupted the Commissioner. "We don't expect you to be able to identify him. We only want to ask you a few questions."

"I don't know." The Martian overseer looked surprised. "He left in his surface plane in the direction of the MacIver plantation."

"Yes," admitted Rabaul grudgingly. "Though I can't tell you what they're about. I've instructions to call him immediately when the call signals come through. He takes them personally."

Again the Martian nodded. "Yes. He's made expeditions into them after botanical specimens, I believe."

"We got him!" said the Commissioner and Cosmo could see him counting his half of the reward. "That map is the most damning evidence of all. It's in his handwriting, isn't it?"

"You can have it checked," said Cosmo complacently. "But there's one thing more."

Cosmo's face hardened. "Slaves aren't cattle. After Bemmelman started his slave farm he couldn't expect profits for eighteen years. He needed money, lots of money to carry on certain experiments. He was an organic chemist. He believed it possible to force humans the same way a gardener forces plants. An aging process isn't a new idea, but it took Bemmelman to find a commercial use for it."

"It fits like a glove," said the Commissioner, "but how do you know about the experiment?"

She bit her lip. "I'm a Terran. He—he kidnapped me, mated me with a Dawn Man as an experiment. Sofi is my daughter."

"Not a bad experiment," said the Commissioner admiringly. His eyes ran over the Blue Venus.

"That was only the beginning!" said Llana. "I found out he's got a laboratory below stairs where he's constantly experimenting with the slave children. He's obsessed with the scheme of maturing the children quicker so that he can reap faster profits. Bemmelman is a monster."

Llana pointed at the Blue Venus. "Sofi," she said in a low voice. "Sofi is only seven years old!"

"We've got him," cried the Commissioner jubilantly. "We've got him dead to rights."

"It's a frame up," shouted Bemmelman in despair. "A dirty frame up, I tell you."

Cosmo regarded the planter with opaque green eyes. "Save your breath, Bemmelman," he counseled him dryly. "No one's going to believe the Renegade—remember?"

From the flat roof of the manor house, Cosmo and Mia watched the Security Patrol planes take off one by one for Venusport. The head overseer was to take charge of the plantation until the courts confirmed Cosmo's claims. Llana and Sofi planned to visit Earth after Bemmelman's trial.

Cosmo had taken Big Unse aside, sent him off secretly with the men to destroy any evidence in their hideout. They were to return to the plantation. "I want the lot of you under my eyes," Cosmo had explained with a grin, "where you won't be tempted to raid my plantation."

As the last of the Patrol Planes rose from the roof, Cosmo turned to Mia. "That's finis for the Renegade!"

Mia gulped suddenly, said, "The map! Good heavens! What will the Commissioner do when he doesn't find anything but bird food?"

"Bird food, the devil," Cosmo said dryly. "I haven't the remotest idea where the Ormoos feed. That map will lead him straight to the spot where I've hidden every stick of loot I've—ah—accumulated." He pulled the Ormoo's whistle from his pocket.

"Take you to Venusport." He blew twice on the whistle. "We're going before the registrar today!"

"But Cosmo. Not on that—that monstrosity. I refuse to do it. I won't go." There was a disturbance in the cloud blanket directly overhead. A huge gray shape plunged Venusward. "Besides," she added in haste; "I can't go to Venusport like this—can I?"

The Ormoo lit with a thud. It gave a pleased raucous squawk, eyed them with amiable red-brown eyes.

"Oh well," said Mia between her teeth. "I might as well get used to traveling on the darn thing, I suppose."

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE VENUS ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org . If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate .

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org .

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Blue Venus

THE BLUE VENUS

By EMMETT McDOWELL

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE