MALCOLM JAMESON: Science Fiction Collection - 17 Books in One Edition. Malcolm Jameson
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little time, thanks to the careful preliminary work. Winchester was immediately received into the rebel ranks and accorded top authority. In a few days he had met the superintendent, a Caucasian named Stallforth, a man with a bulldog face and iron will, but kindly in manner.
He was an excellent mine chief, and the condition of the workers was rather better than elsewhere on the Moon, despite the grueling nature of their jobs. For a few days Winchester was puzzled that there should be so much plotting and unrest there, as compared to other places, until he became friends with Stallforth and got at the facts.
When he knew them and had verified them through his other contacts, he was ready to report.
He arranged an explosion to cover his supposed demise. A confederate brought him several fingers and a severed foot from the execution chambers at Central. He planted these in his room, together with a small bomb which he placed on his work table. He left all his clothing, and escaped in a basket carried by one of the lesser agents.
Two hours later his room blew up. The associates he had left behind promptly identified the remains. That particular role was done with forever.
"I am ready now," Winchester told Number Eight when he reported back at Central.
"Good. So is Prince Lohan. You will take the Four-forty to Terra, Alpine Port. That will be tomorrow. In the meantime you must prepare a fresh character."
Winchester raised his eyebrows.
"It is awkward for His Highness to meet commoners in private audience. Your meeting will be informal. You are going in the capacity of a horticultural expert, as adviser to the head gardener of the Khan. En route you will stop at the Lohan estate and inspect the gardens there. The prince will contrive to meet you."
"I see," said Winchester.
It was a relief to know there would be no witnesses, for should the prince by any chance lose face, it meant the death of all who observed it. Winchester had never felt entirely guiltless over the wholesale slaughter that had followed his last interview with the yellow-robed tyrant.
"I will be ready," he said.
But inside him, his heart beat wildly. Things were coming his way at last.
Once more Allan Winchester walked the wide lawns of what had formerly been Germany. He had a better picture of them now, for he had observed the continent of Europe carefully as his space ship descended.
There were no more fields and few towns. All had been turned back to forest or park, studded with the palaces and pavilions of the silk-wearers. By special order of Prince Lohan, Winchester was to be allowed to wander about freely, and for the duration of his inspection the field-slaves were kept in barracks and their soldier guards with them.
It was a deserted paradise, except for the gay parties going on in some of the lodges and pavilions. Winchester saw them from a distance, and walked on. At his own convenience the prince would meet him.
At last Winchester caught a glimpse of yellow in the underbrush, saw the shimmer and sheen of embroidered silk. But it was not the wide-skirted robe worn by the prince, but pantalets rising above dainty sandaled feet. A graceful figure slipped from behind the bushes and beckoned to him.
The gesture was not coy, but imperious and urgent — almost frantic, denoting haste was in order. It startled him, for it was the last thing he expected to see on his trip to Earth. But he collected himself and strode toward the woman, wondering what complication he had blundered into and how he should handle it.
The moment the woman had made her sign, she hid in the bushes again. Winchester started. This was the oriental princess he had snatched from the creeping tentacles of the Martian pitcher-plant.
But what was more amazing, Cynthia — Cynthia, the girl of his dreams — was right beside her!
CHAPTER XVII
Two Interviews
In another moment he and Cynthia were locked in each other's arms. He embraced her with all the ardor of intense longing. She clung to him passionately, desperately, whimpering like a frightened child that has at last found its protector.
"Oh, Allan," she whispered. "It has been so hard not to know. I thought you were dead — I could not believe them. And then when they convinced me — "
"How?" he asked.
"They let me look through a telescanner. It was the day you defied that horrid secret service man when he tried to intercept your message to the prince. I knew you were well, then, and more than well. For I had been so afraid they would break your spirit. I have seen so much of that here — men that cringe like whipped dogs at the sight of the tiniest bit of insignia."
"But you?" he demanded fiercely. "I can take care of myself. But you?"
"I can, too. Believe me, Allan. But it is like walking a tight-wire in a gale of wind. The prince loves me, you see. Only he is a proud man. He is strong enough to take me any time he chooses, but he will not have it that way.
"He has been courting me. He promises great things for you — if I will only give you up. That I will never do! But the time has not come when I have to tell him so. Oh, Allan, do something to end this horrible suspense! We can't go on this way."
She shuddered violently and he pressed her more tightly to him.
"I am doing something," he said, "but it will take time. Fight for time. It is the only thing that counts now. By the way — how did you arrange to be assigned to Prince Lohan's estate?"
He noticed now that she also wore the imperial yellow, though it was slashed with red. She looked over her shoulder to where the princess stood, a dozen yards away, looking on with approval but with some signs of apprehension.
"Chen Chin — that means Lustrous Pearl — chose me from the school to be her handmaiden. She was jealous of me then, and wanted me close so she could have me poisoned. It was just at that time that you saved her life. She learned more about us from the prince.
"Until she actually met you, she believed you to be a fictitious person, invented to deceive her. Now she is fighting for us, both out of gratitude to you and because she loves Prince Lohan and wants to hold him. She thinks that so long as you are alive — "
The princess uttered a little cry of alarm, and made fluttering gestures.
"It is time to go," whispered Cynthia. "We have taken great risks."
"Courage, sweet," said Winchester, crushing Cynthia in one last embrace. "Keep on believing in me, even if I do some strange things soon. It may take time, but if I succeed, not only will we be free but all humanity as well."
"I feel so helpless," the girl murmured. "What if Prince Lohan — "
Winchester felt within a secret pocket and drew forth a small object. He pressed it into her hand. It was an ampule of the canary-colored drug of dreams.
"Keep this hidden about you at all times. If Lohan presses you to the point of desperation, break it under his nose, but hold your own breath and run. Its fumes deal out a death-in-life, a gripping drug habit."
A sharp hiss came from the anxious princess. Their eyes blurred with tears. There was a tight squeeze of the hand. Before he knew it, Winchester was standing among silent bushes whose boughs stirred faintly in the wind. He waited a little bit and then walked on, pretending to examine the vegetation.
A day later he met Prince Lohan himself. He was strolling in the woods unattended. At the sight of Winchester he sat down on a knoll of grass and motioned to the American to come and sit beside him. His manner was impersonally expectant.
"Well?" he asked. "What is the situation at the Lunar Mines?"
Winchester pretended for a moment to have a reluctance that he did not feel. He was resolved