Heller pulled up at the bottom of the steps and stood there dripping water. "That man is my prisoner," he said. Teenie gazed out toward the pool. Snelz's men, held back until now by that raving blastrifle, were spreading out to cover the Flisten palace. On Teenie's right and left, additional guards were drawn up, electric halberds ready. Teenie looked down at the soaking-wet Heller. She gave her ponytail a twitch. She said, in English, such was the stress of the moment-, "Clear off, buster!" Heller stared. The figure in the golden robe seemed awfully immature, young. Not only had she spoken English but she was chewing bubble gum. "Are you from Earth?" he said in the same language she had used. "Sure, bub," said Teenie, secure in the protection of her guards, "and I'm also the Hostage Queen of Flisten. Now that I've got Hisst under wraps inside, I'm the only operating royalty around here right now, so it's 'Your Majesty' to you." Heller suddenly wanted to laugh at this New York accent. He didn't kneel. This annoyed Teenie. "Listen, mac, I don't know how come you're talking Ivy League, but you better bruise that knee, kid. My guards don't cotton to impoliteness." "My name is Jettero Heller. I'm the representative of Prince Mortiiy on the ground____________________

"

A screeching whistle interrupted him. He looked up to his left. A warship, in flames, was falling. It slammed with a heavy shock wave into a nearby open park. Snelz was at his elbow. When the echoes of the concussion ceased to rattle around, Snelz said, "That's an Apparatus ship that just crashed. The rebels are giving them a pasting!" "Those aren't the rebels," said Teenie in Voltarian. "If you'd been watching Homeview, you would have known that when somebody pulled that mountain apart, exposing Palace City, the Fleet and Army declared for Mortiiy. They're blowing the Apparatus out of the sky!" Snelz and Heller looked up. High above, the remnants of the Apparatus Earth invasion force were being blasted to bits and falling, ship after ship, into the waiting desert sands. A Fleet destroyer, markings clear, dived down half a mile away, pounding some holdout group of Apparatus on the south perimeter. "I guess the admirals came to their senses," said Snelz. "We're on the winning side! That news was what must have driven Hisst crazy and made him shoot his general staff!" "Listen," said Heller, "before one of those destroyers mistakes us for Apparatus, tell your men to get naked to their waists so they look like rebels." As Snelz gave the order, Heller began to remove his general's uniform. "What the hell is this?" said Teenie in English. "Some kind of a God (bleeped) striptease? While I admit, mister, that you're a very good-looking man, it won't get you anyplace. Not with me! If you want Lom-bar Hisst, you've got to come to terms!" Heller had been wearing Fleet fatigues under his Apparatus outfit. He tossed the general's uniform to one of Snelz's men, who was collecting Apparatus clothes to bury them. Heller took a pillbox cap out of his pocket and put it on his head. He gave the chin strap a snap. "Now," he said to Teenie, "we can talk about it. What might these terms be?" "Are you really a representative of Mortiiy?" said Teenie. "I'll do until Mortiiy comes along," said Heller. "Let me storm the place," said Snelz. "She's stalling." "Storm away," said Teenie, "and get your heads chopped off. The only way you're going to get Lombar Hisst is swap." "Horse-trading," said Heller in English. "You said it," said Teenie, in Voltarian, "only I got the better horse. Two for one." "And who might these two be?" said Heller. "The first one is a guy named J. Walter Madison," said Teenie. "The (bleepard) double-crossed me." "MADISON?" 'said Heller. "Is he on Voltar?" "Yep," said Snelz. "You said it," said Teenie. "My Gods!" said Heller. "He's really a two-timing son of a (bleepch)," said Teenie. "He wasn't after Gris at all. The God (bleeped) judge just found Gris innocent. You're Heller. Madison was really after YOU!" "Madison is one, you said two. Who's the other?" Teenie bared her teeth. Her hands clenched. "The other one is the filthiest snake that ever lived. His name is Soltan Gris. Lord Turn says he is your prisoner. I WANT him!" And she snarled. "Let me get this straight," said Heller. "If this J. Walter Madison and this Soltan Gris are turned over to you, you will give us Lombar Hisst." "You got it through your head at last," said Teenie. "And I want to point out that this territory I am standing on is the domain of the Hostage Queen of Flisten and happens to be inviolate. The only way you are going to get Lombar Hisst is swap!"

Heller and Snelz put their heads together: "I think we should rush them," said Snelz. "They only got electric battle-axes." A savage burst of firing sounded in the direction of the east gate. "I think she'll deal," said Heller. "These New Yorkers just like to bargain." "I ain't a New Yorker!" said Teenie. "I'm from all over, including Kansas, Whiz Kid." Heller knew a needling when he heard one: Madison's lies had been all over Earth press-the stories about Kansas, Maizie Spread and Toots Switch. He turned a little red. "Young lady," he said, "we can discuss Madison and Gris later. Right now, turn over Lombar Hisst. I can promise you I'd like to get my hands on J. Warbler Madman myself and I can assure you that when I do, when you see what happens to him, your satisfaction will be guaranteed" "Not good enough," said Teenie. "I am a very experienced person when it comes to justice: it's made of banana peels. Hand me Gris and hand me Madison: you get Hisst. If you don't, I'm liable to keep Hisst for a pet and feed him on peaches and cream." "I promised Gris a trial," said Heller. "He's had one trial and what a miscarriage and abortion of injustice that was. I tell you what, I'll give him a trial and guarantee absolutely to find him guilty. How's that?" Heller and Snelz looked at each other. "I don't even know where Madison is," said Heller. "Do you?" "Nope," said Snelz. "Let me storm the place and you can appoint me a full general of Fleet marines." Heller looked up at the teen-ager. Then he sat down on the step. Timyjo, of Snelz's company, had found some blue cloth in a nearby palace. It was the rebel color and he was passing out strips of it and the men were tying it around their heads. Those who had finished lounged against their blastrifles and looked up at the tableau at the top of the steps. Time passed. Stalemate. A rebel scout came tearing across a park toward the group. He had spotted the naked torsos and blue headbands. He saw Heller and made a beeline for him. "Officer Heller! The Retribution has landed. Mortiiy is checking if it's safe to come in. Where's Hisst?" Heller stood up. He glanced at the girl at the top of the steps. The battle seemed to have died down in the sky, spatters of gunfire were only occasional far to the south. "Snelz," said Heller. "You keep this place surrounded. Don't let anybody in or out." "Does that mean you are going to deal?" said Teenie. "Time will tell, Your Teen-age Majesty," said Heller. "Right now, you better keep Hisst as safe as a monkey in the Bronx Zoo." Heller's clothes were drying in the hot desert wind. He gave his powder-blue Fleet fatigue tunic a tug to straighten it. "I'll go down to the gate and meet Prince Mortiiy." "You better deal!" shouted Teenie. "Don't get your bubble gum in an uproar," Heller called over his shoulder. "I'll be back." The fate of Hisst, Gris and Madison was left hanging in the air.

Madison's crew had several times thought they should leave the Imperial galley, but each time some commotion outside or some new outburst of firing had deterred them. The one hundred Death Battalion soldiers, drunk as Lords, were stacked up in a locked pantry, minus arms. The captain was long since well into a completely elsewhere LSD trip. "I don't think we should go yet," said Flick. "It's still daylight out there. That's the real sun. There's no power on and when it goes down, the place will be as dark as pitch. We can sneak out of here like rats." "On the other hand," said Flip, "when it's dark, if those rebel forces post patrols, we'll be spotted and stopped every ten feet. Look at these caps." "What have caps got to do with it?" said Flick. "Well, we're in Homeview uniforms and these are Homeview caps," said Flip. "They make them this way because Homeview crews get in the path of blinding lights and reflectors. Watch!" She took one of the aqua-green headpieces. She put her long fingernail in a slit. The visor split in half with a pop. The upper part stayed where it was but the lower part snapped vertical in a curve. She put it on: a dark filter covered the upper two-thirds of her face. Looking at her now, you couldn't see who she was. "So just snap your visor bills down, pick up your cameras and equipment," said Flip, "arid simply walk out. They'll suppose we're just a Homeview crew doing our jobs: they won't dream we're Apparatus. So let's get on with the parade." "She's right," said Flick. "Nobody ever notices a Homeview crew. Come on!" There was a pop of visors being lowered and the clatter of equipment and cameras being lifted. They found a door that opened into a side park. The fifty people walked out across the dying grass and into the hot glare of the desert sun. They were heading for the open area where they had parked their air-coaches. Flick stopped, appalled. A crashed warship, still smoking, had landed squarely on their four vehicles. All that remained of the Model 99 airbus was one angel lying face up on the splintered pavement, grinning vacantly at the sky. The crew stacked up behind Flick. He said to Madison, "Chief, we got to scatter out and steal some transportation." But Madison was staring down the boulevard. Surrounded and guarded by companies of rebel troops, a procession was coming from the east gate, heading toward the Imperial Palace. In its center, on poles, several rebels were carrying a large casket-sized container that had a cover over it. Prince Mortiiy was walking ahead of it, flanked by two rebel officers. Several Fleet admirals and Army generals were in the group. Hightee Heller and the Countess Krak were helping Prahd carry bottles with tubes that led into the container. And there, following behind them with a drawn blast handgun, looking at the palaces they passed, watching very alertly for possible snipers, was Jettero Heller! Madison said, "It's HIM! Oh, boy, at last he's stolen a whole empire! I got to cover this!" Flick tugged urgently at his sleeve. "Chief, for Gods' sakes, let's get out of here. I've got two thousand iderj-toplates! We can get lost! Nobody can find us!" Madison said, eyes round, "Good Lord, think of the headline! Thirty-two point, OUTLAW STEALS CONFEDERACY! Director! Get your crew busy! Plug your cameras into Homeview channel direct by radio. COVER THAT PROCESSION!" The director instantly jumped to it and began issuing orders. The whole crew started to get busy. Even the reporters grabbed out notebooks to sketch stories. Flick seized Madison by the arm. "Chief, this is insane! If they find out we're Apparatus, they'll slaughter us!" Madison shook loose. There was a wild, inspired light flaming in his eyes. "He finally DID it! This is my passport to glory!" The reporters closed in on the procession and started getting names. The circus girls rushed in to straighten the hats of generals and admirals. A makeup man slapped some tan powder on the face of Mortiiy. Roustabouts flashed reflectors at the procession. The camera lights began to flicker. They had the main channel of all Homeview for the Confederacy. "This is coming to you live, live, live from Palace City!" cried Madison into a separate mike, unheard by the procession but heard by everyone else on Voltar. "You are watching the triumphal entry of the outlaw Heller into the Imperial Palace. Exclusive! Live! Live! Live!" "We're dead, dead, dead," groaned Flick.