always admired it. Purple was herfavorite color. He made a joke out of it and called it Their color,which was typical of the strange, dangerous behavior she engendered inhim.
Mark was a little worried as he plunged up toward the stratosphere inhis extra car. This time he kept clearly in his mind the fact thatthis was his last serviceable body, and he could take no chances withit getting ruined. Even if he saw a whole multitude of people, allclustered together, he would ignore them, he told himself.
Halfway there, however, he spotted a peculiar marking on the scope,and detoured. The peculiar marking followed him.
Anxiously, he looked out a clear view panel, but could see nothing inthe cold, mist-laden night. The marking grew more definite as hehesitated. It was another car, and there could be no question what itwas after. A shot at Mark.
He cursed and sucked in his breath, making quick calculations. Therewas a rolling billow of cobalt fog off to one side, a whole bank ofthe stuff. Somebody apparently had been having a little game nearby.It was still hot enough, according to his indicators, to dischargeanything the other car sent after him, and he would have the addedadvantage of being invisible to the other man's instruments. The onlytrouble was, once in the fog, he couldn't see anything either, andcould be ambushed without difficulty on the way out.
The marking on the scope became more definite, and the questionsettled itself as the other car came between Mark and the cloud.Growling with irritation, Mark swung around and sent a wide angle beamin the direction of his pursuer, watching nervously as the indicatorsdescribed the pitiful short range of his fire at this setting.
The assailant veered off, however, scurrying into the cobalt cloud.Mark grinned. He knew the man would expect him to wait for him to comeout, so he swooped down at max acceleration toward the surface. Infive minutes he was signaling into Jennette's shelter for permissionto enter.
There were servants everywhere--mechanical things, controlled byelectronics and not alive, although they looked it. This wasJennette's specialty. She owned a factory that manufactured them formining on the scalding plains of Mercury, and these had beensuperficially remodelled to act as servants. There was the usualgovernment man there, too, running the party. He strutted around underhis official sash with ill-concealed self-importance.
"Hey you, there--wait a minute," he called to Mark, waving a zuzzpistol in his direction.
"Yes?" Mark hesitated, eyed the pistol, and obeyed.
"That scarf--get it off," the man ordered sternly as he approached.The zuzz pistol was level and steady.
"Why?" Mark demanded. "It's just a scarf. I always wear one."
"You know why," the other man said coldly. "This is a tetotal party.If I let somebody slip a weapon or something in, it would be an awfulbrawl in no time. You know how people are."
The man was right, of course. You can conceal a lot of things in thefabric of a sheer scarf. Reluctantly, Mark undid the catch and handedit over.
"Okay. You can pick it up at the entrance when you leave." Theofficer's amused eyes wrinkled as he looked Mark up and down. "Say,that's a pretty nice job you've got there, man. Mind if I ask who madeit?"
"It's pretty good." Mark said cautiously. "It's custom made to aprivate specification."
The officer grinned goodnaturedly. "Sure, I understand. That's allright. I'm not from the revenue department. I don't have to doanything about bootlegging."
"I don't mean that." Mark protested. "There's nothing illegal--"
The man waved his disregard anyway. "Forget it. It's a nice one,though. And that copper color is coming back soon, too. These fashionsrun in cycles, you know."
"Yes," Mark murmured diffidently. "I thought so, too."
"Sure." The officer eyed it speculatively for a moment. "Two point ohone centimeter naval, isn't it? They're the best, of course." Marknodded shortly, looking away from the talkative officer, hoping hewould stop. But the man went on. "And I don't have any use for thesenew non-feeders they've been coming out with recently."
"No," Mark mumbled.
"It's all right to fix it so that the food is not necessary, and itreally is a bother to have to feed those old models whether you wantto or not. But sometimes you like to eat something just for the fun ofit, and with the non-feeder models there's no receptacle for it."
Mark nodded, his eyes searching the huge anteroom, gazing hopefullybetween the moving ranks of robot servants. Then he saw her and caughthis breath.
* * * * *
Jennette. His lips formed a low whistle in time-honored acclamation ofexcellence. The officer followed his gaze and agreed.
"Yes," he said in a low voice, "that girl is really something. Privatespec for everything, and she sure knows how to use it. Take thatlittle golden job she's wearing tonight. Nothing to it. But with her,it's terrific."
He was right. Jennette was wearing a slender, soft-looking goldenlittle body that Mark had never seen before. But it was a real prize.Being hostess, she could have clothes on, and sported a half dozenlittle bracelets and a jet black bandana around her throat. The thingwas draped down over her left breast, and the whole effect was reallyquite stunning.
"Oh Mark!" she exclaimed, running up with an odd sort ofbreathlessness. "You're late."
"Sorry Jennette," he replied. "Ran into a little trouble and had to goback for another body."
"You must have missed," she said with amused accusation. "I'msurprised at you."
"Aw, there were three of them," he protested. "And the last one used abroad beam."
"Never mind. I forgive you," she told him. "Come along. Let's go lookat my garden."
Mark grinned happily. "Wonderful idea. But what about your guests? Areyou just going to leave them like that?"
"This is my birthday," she said. "They can amuse themselves."
Then she pulled him down and put her lips to his ear. "Besides," shewhispered. "I've got an identical copy with electronic works. No onewill even know I've left, unless they get too friendly with it."
"Pretty clever," Mark admitted thoughtfully. "But I wouldn't always beso ready to break the law like that."
"Who's to know except you, Mark?" She looked up at him with burning,gold-flecked eyes. "You wouldn't tell anybody, would you?"
Mark shook his head uncomfortably.
"All right, then."
They entered the elevator that took them down another half mile to thecentral living quarters of the ancient shelter. It had been builtearly in the flux period and remodelled several times. It was one ofthe best equipped on the planet.
"Tell me," Jennette said, gazing appreciatively at the heavy bronzeshoulders, "where on earth did you get that?"
"I--Oh, it was just lying around somewhere," Mark mumbled.
"I bet," she said. "But it's nice. I like it."
Mark just grinned at her, happy for the moment, secure in theknowledge that it would be impossible for her ever to know that it wasreally identical with his protobody. Not that it would matter, just solong as it was artificial. He listened to the humming of the elevatorfor a few minutes. When it stopped the door vanished, and the two ofthem moved out into a sea of wild, colorful beauty. High above themwas a simulated sun that made as good a substitute for the real thingas had been developed since the underground movement.
"Bright," Mark commented.
"Oh, that's right. I've been forcing some Venerian puffers and scentflowers, and raised the radiation level ten decibels. They always dowell under a strong sun, you know." She left his arm and moved to acontrol panel beside the entrance to the elevator. She manipulatedsomething and the sun dimmed a little. "There," she turned around."Better?"
Mark looked at the landscape, then back to her. He grinned. "Too muchlight."
"Oh you--" she murmured. She touched the controls, and the sundisappeared, being replaced by a huge, mellow moon that sailedmajestically on the simulated horizon. It was impossible to tell itfrom the real thing.
"How's that?"
"A little da
rk."
Ignoring his comment, she came back and took his arm, and they wentstrolling across the flowers and grass. "Don't you like my moon,Mark?"
"Sure. It's fine. Sort of aphrodisiac, of course, but--"
"Isn't that what it's for?" Jennette asked innocently.
"I dunno. I never had a moon."
"Let's sit down here," she said abruptly.
* * * * *
They were
World Without War Page 2
