VII
Underway in the hovercar, the major, seated next to Guy in the front seat, turned around to face Clete and Lysippe. “Were you two in on that?”
They were both wide-eyed in innocence. “Artimes!’ Clete said. “Of course not. We’re the poor boy’s guards.
Lysippe said, “Didn’t you see me grab her?”
The major snorted but turned back.
Guy was finally regaining his breath. “That was close,” he muttered.
“Minythyia’s too slow on her feet,” Clete explained to him. “You’re lucky it wasn’t one of those sixteen-year- olds. They’re the worst.” She added thoughtfully, “In more ways than one. They don’t really know what to expect from a boy.”
“Shut up,” the major growled.
Clete chuckled.
The drive was a fairly long one, especially through Themiscyra pre-noon traffic. Not that Guy saw any of the latter. The major had turned the windows opaque and growled a surly negative when he requested the polarized view.
He said eventually, out of a clear sky, “All men aren’t like Podner Bates, are they?”
The major scowled at him. “How do you mean? What’s wrong with Bachelor Bates? I’ve always thought him a charming little fellow.”
“But he’s not exactly an average Amazonian male. At first I thought he was.”
“Podner’s more or less like all other men,” the major said. “What brought that up?”
Come to think of it, except for the space launch pilot and the boy who’d brought breakfast, Podner was the only man he was supposed to have met thus far, Guy realized.
“Nothing,” he said. He thought about it some more. Podner was certainly similar to neither Zeke nor Teucer. But, then, they were revolutionists and so offbeat.
The major said, “Is there any chance of finishing your business today?”
He turned and looked at her, his eyebrows high. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “It doesn’t seem very likely.”
“Why not?” the major rapped. “You’ll be meeting our technicians shortly. If you can finish your business and get the final approval from the Hippolyte, we could run you out to the UP Embassy. You’d be safe then.”
“Aw,” Clete said, “he’s safe with us guarding him. Minythyia won’t get him.”
Guy said, his voice worried, “I was thinking in terms of seeing your mines, your smelters, your extracting system. From which minerals do you extract titanium, ilmenite, rutile…?”
“How in the name of the Goddess would I know?” the major said, bringing her cloak up tighter about her neck. “All I know is you seem to be on the philosophical side about getting nabbed by one of these man-short cloddies.”
“It’s like I said. A boy doesn’t really feel fulfilled until a warrior’s taken him under her wing,” Clete told them.
Guy grunted disgust at that opinion. “I’ve got my work to accomplish,” he said. “When that’s done, I’ll depart Amazonia so fast…” He let the sentence fade off.
“This must be it,” Lysippe said. “Sweety, you stick as close to Clete and me as you can. We’ll take care of you.” She glared at the other guard. “If Clete doesn’t go into another laughing fit.”
They were obviously going up a lengthy driveway. The major turned the window knob, allowing them to see out. Guy was impressed. It was an imposing layout, all very Grecian public buildings. Was the largest the palace?
If it was, they didn’t immediately head for there. The hovercar whooshed them, instead, to a comparatively sober-looking building faced with stone rather than marble. They came up before it, the car stopped and Clete and Lysippe issued forth, looking up and down with care before opening the front door for Guy.
“
Clete snorted. “You’re in more danger here than you were there, Sweety. For one thing, Minythyia isn’t so bad.”
He didn’t ask her to elaborate on that.
The major led the way up the wide stone stairway. Guy followed, with Clete and Lysippe on each side and slightly to the rear.
At the door, two sentries sprang to the salute. Guy Thomas took in the short, stubby scrambler guns they carried and winced. It was the most deadly handweapon he knew of in the whole UP confederation. Either of these Amazons could have leveled everything within half a mile’s radius. What in the name of the Holy Ultimate did sentries need with a scrambler?
The major marched on through, Guy and his guards right behind. Inside, as on Earth, the antiquity motif dropped rather sharply away. The interior of the building was quite as ultramodern as a business establishment on Earth or Avalon.
The major marched up to a reception desk behind which was seated a bright looking young man done up as usual in the tunic garb of the Amazonian male. Guy and his guards were still to the rear.
“Yes, Madam?” the receptionist said.
“Major Oreithyia with the Earth representative, Guy Thomas,” she said with military snap.
The receptionist took a moment to scan Guy top to bottom in curiosity. He said kindly, “Welcome to Themiscyra, darling.”
“Thanks,” Guy grunted. He was getting tired of these endearments between men. At least the underground didn’t seem to use them.
The other smiled tolerantly at the major and the two Amazon warriors. “Goodness, it’s like we’ve heard. They’re rather unmanly on the other worlds, aren’t they?”
Nobody bothered to answer. He said, a bit miffed, “You’re being awaited in the conference chambers, down at the end of that corridor, Major.” And then he blinked, as though he had noted the style of Guy’s tunic for the first time. “Goodness me,” he said. “A virgin.”
Guy began to growl something at him, decided the hell with it, and gave up.
They marched down the indicated corridor, the major again ahead, the two warriors bringing up the rear. They reached a door.
Clete said, “Just a minute.” He hand on her gun, she opened up and looked in. Evidently satisfied, she opened it wider and stood to one side.
Guy Thomas followed the major inside.
It was a conference room that would have been duplicated, ten thousand times, in Greater Washington, or, for that matter, on practically any of the advanced planets. A long table, obviously of wood, Guy Thomas noted, was equipped with all the latest taping and other recording devices. Around the table were heavy, comfortable chairs, about twenty in all although there weren’t that many persons present. Otherwise, there was little furniture.
There were six persons present and already seated at the table. Somewhat to Guy’s surprise, half of them were men. They were the first middle-aged males he had seen on the planet—in fact, one must have been at least in his sixties. The three women were in the same age group. The women were dressed, somewhat uncomfortably it seemed to him for some reason, in much the same garb as the major and her warriors, albeit a bit more conservatively and without weapons. The men wore what he assumed were standard garments for more elderly males, something like a Roman toga. They didn’t seem to be particularly used to the dress; possibly it was only worn under special circumstances, and they anticipated being presented to the Hippolyte later on.
The major barked, “Citizen Guy Thomas, of the planet Earth, representative of the Department of Interplanetary Trade of United Planets.”
One of the women, who sat at the table’s head, took Guy in from top to bottom. “You look on the young and flat side to be holding down an important mission.”
