“Not really,” Ronny told him. “We don’t have enough rope for that. Now here’s what we do. They call it
“Are you kidding?”
“No.” Ronny roped him up, continuing directions. “You’re in no particular danger. I’m up here belaying you. I’ve got hold of you all the way down.”
Willy’s pale face couldn’t be seen through the hood, but he said, “I’ve got a fear of heights.”
“So has practically everybody else who’s normal. Let’s go.” Ronny continued to rope the other up in the prescribed manner.
Willy said bitterly, “What do they pay a First Grade Section G agent?”
And Ronny said, completing his servicing of the other, “Five hundred interplanetary credits a month— particularly when he’s so well trained that he can hit a fly at a kilometer’s range. Come on!”
Willy de Rudder said, “How do you get down? Who belays you from above?”
“You’ll see. Get going, Willy.”
The younger agent went to the side of the cliff, turned his back, closed his eyes and started down, walking backward, the comforting feel of the belaying rope holding him tight against falling.
It took a million years for him to reach the canyon bottom below.
“Untie,” Ronny yelled down.
He untied the rope from around his waist and looked up as Ronny retrieved it. Shortly, the other, the rope doubled, started down, bouncing down the cliff, kicking against it and jumping so that his pace was three or four times that of Willy walking down.
When he got to the bottom, next to his companion, he gave a jerk at one end of the doubled rope.
“Slung over a rock projection,” he explained.
The other looked at him. “Suppose you got in trouble, with nobody, uh, belaying you from above?”
“That’s a good question,” Ronny said. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got to find more sheer cliffs.”
For another period the going was easier again, though they had to duck under another ledge for a time as a helio-jet passed over.
In the cave, the younger agent said, after looking at his companion from the side of his eyes, “Ronny.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about missing Number One. I fouled up the whole project and you said that two agents were lost setting it up.”
Ronny Bronston grunted amusement. “Don’t let it worry you. We accomplished what we were sent to do. It would have been more fun if you’d hit him dead center. It probably would have taken him a couple of days to get rid of the stench. But you hit the wall immediately behind him and about ten centimeters to the right. That’ll do it.”
The other came to an abrupt halt. “What are you talking about?”
Ronny chuckled and said, “Section G doesn’t condone assassination, even when called for. If it did, and the information ever got out, member worlds of United Planets would drop out like dandruff. That was a special cartridge you fired. The head was filled with the most nauseating odored fluid you ever smelled—especially whomped up in the laboratories of our Department of Dirty Tricks. At impact it was meant to shatter and sprew the smell, a few dozen times worse than a skunk’s scent, all over the place. You’d need a gas mask to be on that terrace now. The fluid was otherwise harmless.”
“But… but
Ronny left the sheltering ledge and led the way, resuming the bent kneed stride of the mountaineer. “Come along,” he said. “Because now he knows he’s vulnerable. If somebody could get in through his defenses to a point near enough to shoot a stink bomb shell right next to him, then the next time they could make it something more deadly. He’s going to think twice, at least, before he makes any warlike moves. There’s another angle too, from Section G’s viewpoint.”
They had arrived at another cliff and Ronny began ordering the ropes for
“What’s that?” Willy said, no tremor in his voice at what was to come, this time.
“He’s got his people all keyed up for his military venture. They’ve been sacrificing, building munitions plants, a space fleet and so forth, for years. The whole planet is on edge with this scheme to subjugate some of the nearby worlds. If he calls it off, they’ll be up in arms against him. And he probably will, since now he knows that if he makes an aggressive move, he’ll be hit. No, I wouldn’t be surprised to see an overthrow of Number One before the year is out.”
In all, during the next three hours, they roped-down four cliffs. Willy de Rudder got quite nonchalant about it, even attempting to duplicate his companion’s method of bouncing his way down. Several times they saw helio-jets, but Ronny had been right, the craft were afraid to come too low due to the treacherous mountain air currents. Twice, they spotted groups of uniformed men, obviously searching for them. However, Ronny seemed to be a more competent mountaineer than any of the foe. They were able to keep from being detected.
They were nearly to the small green valley which was their immediate destination when they were flushed by Number One’s gray clad security men. The others, a group of four, were possibly a hundred meters away, but the two Section G men were clearly in sight.
“Run for it,” Ronny rasped and the two doubled over in that position men assume in combat when under fire, to present as small a target as possible, and dashed. Various weapon fire splashed off the rocks about them.
They zig-zagged in evasive action, got around an outcropping of rocks which afforded immediate protection.
Ronny got out, “They’re at least as tired as we are. They’ve been coming up hill, while we’ve been coming down. They’re undoubtedly short of breath and they’re overly excited about spotting us. So come on, let’s get out of here, Willy.”
From the side of his eyes, the tyro agent could see that his superior was holding his side.
“You’re hit,” he blurted, scrambling after the other.
“Yeah,” Ronny got out. “Come along. If we can make the valley and across it to the trees, we’re comparatively safe.”
They sped, as best they could, toward the valley. Behind them there were shouts and more weapon fire, though obviously the others were blasting away without target, possibly in an attempt to frighten the quarry into surrender.
“If this squad has one of those damned dogs, we’ve had it, even if we do make the trees,” Ronny gasped.
Their luck held and they managed to temporarily shake the pursuers. However, neither of them had any illusions. The security men would be equipped with two way radio and in short order every search group in the vicinity, and every helio-jet, would be zeroing in on them.
They got to the valley, dashed across at its narrowest point and ducked into the trees of the forest beyond. They stopped for breath, fifty meters into the woods, both leaning their backs against the trees.
Ronny thought about it a deep breathing minute, then said, “Willy, you’re going to have to finish me. That hit I took removed enough of my side to construct Eve.”
“Finish you!” the younger man blurted.
“Yeah. I’d never make it and we can’t take a chance on their getting me alive.”
“I’ll bandage you up. It’s only a little ways to the clearing now.”
“Bandage me with what?” Ronny panted.
“With our shirts,” the other insisted. “We’re both wearing white-shirts under these coveralls.”
“Wizard, but the moment we get out of these insulated coveralls the helio-jets pick up our body heat. You’re going to have to finish me.”
“I can’t,” Willy said. “I… I don’t even have a gun—or a knife.”
Ronny sighed and took a deep breath. “Use your belt and garrot me. Better still, pick up one of those stones and bash my head in, it’ll be quicker.”
“I won’t do it! We’ve got less than half a kilometer to go and there’ll be a doctor in the landing craft. Here,
