"Of course, you'd say that." Her chin trembled; she set her jaw stubbornly. "Who'd believe the Renegade?" Cosmo made a weary gesture, turned back to the runaways who'd been listening with interest. "Get off your knees," he said. His tone was embarrassed. "The Security Patrol is scouring the countryside for you right now. Take to the forest where the planes can't follow. Make for the mountains. My men...." "By Nemi!" the Buddha-faced Mercurian ejaculated suddenly. He pointed at Mia who was slipping through the window to her study. "The girl is escaping. After her, Tong!" The Venusian serf leaped in pursuit, but Cosmo halted him with a lifted hand. "She won't go far." He turned back to the Mercurian. "I give the orders," he said. The moon-faced little man bowed good-naturedly. Cosmo realized he wasn't even armed. "What are you doing with this pair of cut-throats?" he asked. "We understand one another," the Mercurian replied blandly. "I act as a governor. My presence restrains them from indulging in an excess of blood letting." "Who sent you to me?" Cosmo asked shrewdly. "Was it Penang-ihtok?" The Mercurian shuddered. "Yes. A violent man, that Penang-ihtok. An outcast Fozoql." "He's safe then?" Cosmo interrupted. "Bemmelman doesn't suspect him?" "No." "Good." He frowned, said: "Go now. Your time is short." Without a word the odd trio filed off. Cosmo watched them around the corner of the plantation house, then sprang through the window of Mia's study. The girl was at the telecast. She had tuned in the fat Commissioner of the Security Patrol. "What?" the Commissioner's voice rumbled from the audio. His jowls were shaking; his image wildly agitated. "Are you sure, Owner MacIver? The Renegade at your plantation with the serfs from the Bemmelman place?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned away from the Visoscreen, but Cosmo could still hear his voice shouting orders at some underling. "Contact the radio patrol planes! Order them to converge on the MacIver plantation! The Renegade! Good Lord, man, d'ya realize what a feather it'll be in our caps? Hurry!" The fat Commissioner swung back into the visoscreen. "I'll have a dozen patrol planes there in ten minutes. What does he look like, Owner MacIver? Who is he?" "He is ..." began Mia, then discovered Cosmo standing beside the boxlike transmitter on the wall. He flashed her a faintly wolfish grin. * * * * * Mia gasped, brought her hand to her throat. Her high firm breasts heaved wildly beneath the yellow tunic. "What's wrong, Owner MacIver? What's wrong?" came the excited voice from the audio. Mia's wide gray eyes brimmed with hate. "He is ..." she began again, but the screen went dead. Cosmo had yanked the transmitter from the wall. Wires like tentacles dangled from the back of the box. He dropped it to the gray straw matting.