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.