d’Alembert 7 – Planet of Treachery – E E. Doc Smith

buzzing sound-but something told her that this sound had no right to be here on Gastonia.

As she came to complete consciousness the sound was already receding. It had come

from above, and was definitely mechanical. To Vonnie’s sharp ears, it sounded exactly

like a copier flying overhead.

Wrapping her body in furs, she leaped off the bed and ran to the door to check out this

development. The cold night wind hit her like an icy fist as she threw open the door and

peered out into the night. But there was nothing to see in the sky except the dark,

oppressive gray of storm clouds swirling the third snowstorm of the week down upon the

village. The humming sound was now at the very limits of audibility, and in another

second was gone altogether. If it was a copier, it had gone on its way in a hurry.

Yvonne was in a thoughtful mood as she closed the door and returned to snuggle deeply

into the bed furs. A copier was almost as out of place here as a palm tree. It certainly

could not belong to any of the exiles. The residents of the village had only wood, stone

and bone implements; they totally lacked the capacity to work in metals, let alone

construct anything as sophisticated as a copier. The vehicle could, of course, belong to

the Governor or his staff; perhaps the guards conducted systematic surveys of the area

by air, or perhaps there was some special mission that Vonnie couldn’t even guess at.

But if it were part of a regular survey, why do it at night in a snowstorm? They’d be

unlikely to see much under those conditions.

There were no easy answers to the puzzle, although she had the definite feeling that the

copier pilot had wanted to remain as secretive as possible. She finally fell asleep once

more with the knowledge that there were still facets of life on Gastonia that were eluding

her grasp.

The complexities increased dramatically two days later. Jules was still away on his hunt,

not expected back for another couple of days, so, instead of going straight home after

work, Yvonne took one of her long exploratory walks through the village. She was

learning her way around the town quite well, and had not gotten lost once in the past two

weeks. It was an accomplishment in which she took no little pride.

Suddenly she heard an outcry of several male voices, including one man yelling distinctly,

“There she is! Don’t let her get away!”

Vonnie whirled defensively, thinking at first someone might be after her. After a second,

though, it was clear that the cries were coming from the next street over, past this row of

shanty houses, and that the sound of running footsteps was paralleling her path rather

than coming toward her. Ever curious, the SOTE agent broke into a run herself, dashing

between the houses to see what was happening in the next street.

As she emerged on the new street, she saw a fleeing form thirty meters away being

pursued by half a dozen men-and one of the pursuers she recognized instantly as

Voorhes, the man she’d fought in the bar several weeks ago. Rumors had spread shortly

after that incident that Voorhes had been demoted by Tshombase after the fight-though

whether the reason was for unseemly brawling in public or for being unable to defeat a

woman was never made clear. Vonnie suspected it was the latter, and she’d made a

point to avoid contact with Voorhes since then. Life on Gastonia was dangerous enough

without making enemies-especially when there were no laws against murder.

One of Voorhes’s men reached out and grabbed the fugitive’s arm. As the figure was

spun back facing Vonnie’s direction, the DesPlainian could see with some surprise that it

was a very young girl, clad in lighter furs than the men. The man who had initially

grabbed her held her long enough for Voorhes to catch up. The bully gave his captive a

vicious backhand slap across the face that sent the poor girl reeling backward into a

snowbank.

There was no question where Vonnie’s sympathies lay. For all she knew, the girl could

be a thief and a murderer, and Voorhes might be perfectly justified in hunting her down

with his friends. But having seen Voorhes in action before, and knowing something of his

reputation, the SOTE agent was willing to bet there was more innocence on the girl’s

side of the slate than on his. Running at top speed, now, she hurried to the fugitive’s

rescue.

The six men had been so intent in their pursuit of the girl that Vonnie’s attack from the

rear was a complete surprise. Launching herself in a low trajectory, Vonnie dove at the

legs of the nearest man. She hit him right in the back of his knees with the full force of

her seventy-two kilogram weight, and he fell forward with a surprised grunt. Vonnie came

down with him and was tangled in his flailing limbs for an instant; but she used her

momentum to help her roll forward, and she was extricated and back in action before any

of the other men could act.

Scrambling to her feet, the battling DesPlainian turned toward the next man. He had

heard his friend cry out and was swiveling to face her when Vonnie caught him squarely

in the stomach with a punch delivered at full DesPlainian strength. The man doubled over,

offering his face as a target too tempting to resist; Yvonne gave him a solid uppercut that

literally knocked the man off his feet. He crashed to the ground a meter away and

sprawled unconscious on the snow.

The few seconds she had spent on these two men gave the other four a chance to

prepare themselves for the fight. Each was armed with a long stone knife-crude,

perhaps, in terms of modern-day weaponry, but quite capable of slitting open a careless

opponent. As Voorhes looked at Yvonne, wondering why anyone should attack him here,

a dawning light of recognition appeared in his eyes. Yvonne had undoubtedly starred in

numerous retribution fantasies dreamed by Voorhes in the past few weeks; it didn’t

matter to him now why she was here. The mere fact that she was facing him alone,

unarmed, while he had three friends, all with knives-that fact was quite sufficient for him.

Vonnie took but a second to give the situation a quick scan and plan her moves. Although

she had never been a circus performer like her husband, she had undergone a thorough

training at the Service Academy in the techniques of unarmed combat, and had scored a

respectable 989 overall in the thousand-point test-and those in addition to her being a

native-born DesPlainian. Under those circumstances, four to one was an even match.

The nearest man came charging at her like an enraged bull, knife held outward in a very

obvious posture. Vonnie had to resist the urge to shout “Ole!” as she daintily sidestepped

him, grabbed his outstretched arm, and twisted it back with a severe yank. The man’s

arm had been stiff, and there was a quite audible crack as the SOTE agent jerked it

around. The man screamed and, in his agony, dropped his knife. With a quick, sweeping

gesture, Yvonne plucked the blade out of midair before it had fallen halfway to the

ground. As her attacker fell writhing to the snow, she spun to deal with the other three.

The man next closest to her had hoped to take advantage of her preoccupation with his

friend. While Vonnie had been busy in one direction, he came lunging at her from another,

his blade slashing quickly through the air. She barely had time to turn around before he

was upon her. He’d brought his blade up to aim at her face, but her very act of turning

caused his swipe to miss by several centimeters. As his arm came up, she ducked under

him and slipped around behind him.

She wanted to use her knife to slash at him, but realized that would be almost useless.

Everyone on Gastonia dressed in heavy furs, and unless she could be certain of scoring

a direct hit the most she would probably accomplish with her crude weapon was to cut

open the coat’s sleeve. Worse yet, there was the chance that the edge of her blade

might snag on her enemy’s coat and be torn from her grasp as he pulled away from her

again.

Rather than risk losing her weapon, Yvonne decided to stick with her already successful

tactics of hand combat. As she came around behind her attacker she jabbed her elbow

backward into his side, right at kidney level. The man howled and instinctively grabbed at

his side, leaving his defenses open. Vonnie promptly took advantage of the lapse,

stepping around to the man’s other side and delivering two more punches that dropped

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