by John Norman
"He's dead," said one of the men.
"I shall put another dart into him," said the other.
"Do not be a fool," said the first.
"Can you be sure he is dead?" asked the other.
"See?" said the first. "There is no breath. If he were alive his breath, its vapor in the cold, would be clearly visible."
"You are right," said the second man.
Neither of these men, I gathered, had ever hunted the swift sea sleen. I was pleased that once, in kayaks, with Imnak, I had made the acquaintance of that menacing, insidious beast.
"Aiii!" cried the first man, as I leaped upward, striking him aside with my right hand. It was the second man whom I must first reach. He was the more suspicious, the more dangerous of the two. His weapon contained a dart, at the ready. The weapon lifted swiftly but already I was behind it. The other man had not reinjected a dart into the riflelike contrivance he carried. I turned to him when I had finished the first. I did not realize until later he had struck me with its stock from behind. His scream was long and fading as he fell to the ice below the cliffs.
I quickly sorted through the accouterments of the second man. I must move quickly. Not only was dispatch of tactical significance but exposure to the arctic winter could bring a swift death on the summit of the ice island. In moments I wore one of the light, plastic suits, with hood, with the heating unit slung at the hip. I did not know how long the charge in the unit would last but I did not expect to be needing it long. I then took the sack of darts from the second man and threw it, on its strap, about my shoulder. I gathered in the two weapons which they had carried.
Another object lay on the ice, a small, portable radio. A voice, in Gorean, was speaking urgently on the device, inquiring as to what was occurring. I did not attempt to respond or confuse the operator. I thought it better to let him ponder what might have happened high above on the surface of that rugged island of ice. If I responded I was sure I would be soon marked as a human intruder. If my voice would not betray me surely my failure to produce code words or identificatory phrases would do so. As it was the operator could speculate on possibilities such as a transmitter malfunction, an accident, or an attack of wandering ice beasts. An investigatory party would soon be sent forth to investigate. This did not displease me. The more men there were outside the complex the fewer there would be inside. The various hatches, also, I was confident, would not open from the outside. If they did, the mechanisms could always be jammed or destroyed. I knew I had at least one ally within, Imnak, who would risk his life to protect me. He had already done so.
In short order I managed to find one of the ventilator shafts through which fresh air was drawn into the complex; there was a system of such shafts, some for drawing in fresh air and others for expelling used, stale air. Kurii, with their large lungs, and the need to oxygenate their large quantities of blood, are extremely sensitive to the quality of an atmosphere. Ship Kurii, crashed or marooned on Earth, have usually made their way to remote areas, not simply to avoid human habitations but to secure access to a less polluted, more tolerable atmosphere. Kurii, incidentally, because of their unusual lung capacity, can breathe easily even at relatively high altitudes. They have little tolerance, however, for pollutants. Kur agents on Earth are almost always humans.
I could not remove the grating at the top of the shaft. It was fixed into the metal, welded therein.
I stepped back and depressed the firing switch on one of the tubular weapons. I then set another dart into the breech. It was not, however, necessary. The metal was broken loose and twisted crookedly upward. The opening was not too large, but it would be enough. I felt around inside the darkened shaft with my hand, and then with the barrel of a weapon. I could find no handholds or footholds. I did not know the depth of the shaft, but I supposed it must be a hundred or more feet, at least. I had no rope. I slipped into the shaft, sweating, my back against one side, my two feet against the other side. Thus began a slow and tortuous descent, inch by inch. The slightest mistake in judgment, as to position or leverage, and I would plummet within the shaft, helpless, until I struck its bottom, however far below it might be.
It took more than a quarter of an Ahn to descend the shaft.
The last twenty feet I slipped and, pushing and thrusting, fell clattering to its bottom.
The grille at the lower end, some seven feet above a steel floor, and opening into a hall, was not fixed as solidly as the one above. Indeed, to my amazement, I lifted it out.
"What kept you?" asked Imnak.
He was sitting on two boxes, at the side, whittling a parsit fish from sleen bone.
"I was detained," I said.
"You were very noisy," said Imnak.
"Sorry," I said.
I saw that the screws holding the lighter grille in place had been removed. That is why it lifted out.
"You removed the screws from the grille with your knife," I said.
"Would you have preferred to kick it loose?" asked Imnak.
"No," I said. Then I said, "How did you know to find me here?"
"I thought you would have difficulty explaining your right to enter to the guards at the hatches," said Imnak.
"Surely there are many ventilator shafts," I said.
"Yes," said Imnak, "but not many with people crawling down them."
"Here," I said, handing Imnak one of the tubular weapons, and several of the darts from the bag which I carried.
"What good is this?" asked Imnak. "It blows apart the meat, and there is no place to put a line on the point."
"It is good for shooting people," I said.
"Yes," said Imnak, "it might do for that."
"It is my intention, Imnak," I said, "to locate and detonate the device concealed in this complex which is intended to prevent the supplies here from falling into the hands of enemies."
"That is a long thing to say," he said.
"I want to find a switch or lever," I said, "which will make this whole place go boom bang crash, as when the dart hits a target and makes a big noise."
"I do not know the words 'boom' and 'bang'," said Imnak. "Are they Gorean?"
"I want to make a thing like thunder and lightning, crash, crash," I said, angrily.
"You want to cause an explosion?" asked Imnak.
"Yes," I said.
"That seems like a good idea," said Imnak.
"Where did you hear about explosions?" I asked Imnak.
"Karjuk told me," said Imnak.
"Where is Karjuk?" I asked.
"He is somewhere outside," said Imnak.
"Did he ever speak to you of a device to destroy the complex?" I asked.
"Yes," said Imnak.
"Did he tell you where it is?" I asked.
"No," said Imnak. "I do not think he knows where it is."
"Imnak," I said, "I want you to take this weapon, and get yourself, and as many of the girls as you can, out of the complex."
Imnak shrugged, puzzled.
"Do not dally," I told him.
"What about you?" he asked.
"Do not worry about me," I said.
"All right," said Imnak.
He turned to leave.
"If you see Karjuk," I said, "kill him."
"Karjuk would not like that," said Imnak.
"Do it," I said.
"But where will we get another guard?" he asked.
"Karjuk does not guard the People," I said. "He guards Kurii."
"How do you know what he guards?" asked Imnak.
"Forget about Karjuk," I said.
"All right," said Imnak.
"Hurry, hurry!" I told him. "Leave! Hurry!"
"Is it all right if I worry a little about you, Tarl, who hunts with me?" he asked.
"Yes, yes," I said, "you can worry a little."
"Good," said Imnak. Then he turned about and hurried down the hall.
I looked upward. In the ceiling were the slave tracks, those steel guides determining, by virtue of the steel
spheres and neck chains, the permissible movements of various girls.
At that moment, down the hall, coming about a corner, were two men, in brown and black tunics.
"Why are you in the suit?" they asked me.
"I came from the surface," I said. "There is trouble up there."
"What sort of trouble?" asked one.
"We do not know yet," I said.
"Are you in security?" asked one of the men.
"Yes," I said.
"We do not see much of you fellows," said one.
"It is better that you fellows know only your own sections," I said.
"There is greater security that way," said one.
"Yes," agreed the other.
"If you see anything suspicious, report it," I advised them.
"We shall," said the first man.
"In the meantime, see that the grille on that shaft is replaced," I said.
"We'll take care of it," they said.
"Why is it open?" asked one.
"I was checking it," I said.
"Oh," said the other.
"You forgot to turn off the heat unit on your suit," said one. "That will use up the charge."
I pushed in the button which was more raised than its fellow on the panel of the device.
"I forgot that once," said one of the men. "It is easy to do, the suit maintaining a standard temperature."
"Perhaps they should have a light on the panel," I said.
"That would show up in the dark," said one of the men.
"That is true," I said.
I then left the men and they, behind me, set themselves to replace the grille in the ventilator shaft.
I encountered few humans in the corridors. Once I did encounter some twenty men, in a column of twos, moving swiftly down one hall. They were led by a lieutenant and were all armed.
I assumed they were on their way to the surface, to aid in the search and investigation which must now be underway high above.
It would be only a matter of time until the blasted ventilator grating, some two hundred feet above, at the height of the shaft, would be located.
The girl approaching me down the corridor was very beautiful. She was, of course, slave. She was barefoot. She wore a brief bit of transparent brown slave silk, gathered before her and loosely knotted at her navel. She was steel-collared. She carried a bronze vessel on her right shoulder. She was brown-haired, with long brown hair, and brown-eyed. She was a sweet-hipped slave. A chain, some feet in length, was attached to her collar, which slid easily behind her, she drawing it, as she made her way toward me. If she were to stand under the sphere holding the chain above her in its track the chain would fall, gracefully looped, behind her, almost to the back of her knees, whence it would rise again to its lock point on her collar. This slack in the chain makes it possible not only for the girl to kneel but for her to be put on her back on the steel plates.
I stopped walking in the corridor, and she continued to approach, until she was about ten feet from me. At that point she knelt, putting the bronze vessel to one side. She knelt back on her heels, her knees wide, her hands on her thighs, her back straight, her head down. It is a beautiful and significant position. It well betokens the submission of the female to the free man, her master. She was at my will.
I observed her for a time, noting her helplessness and her beauty.
"Master?" she asked, not raising her head. I did not beat her.
She lifted her head. "Master?" she asked, trembling.
"Are you so eager to feel the whip?" I asked.
"Forgive me, Master," she said. She put her head down.
"I am new in the complex," I said. "I would have information."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Stand, and approach me," I said, "and turn the other way."
She did so. I pushed her head forward and threw her hair to the side. A heavy steel padlock was attached to the chain. The tongue of this lock had been placed about the steel collar, between the metal and the back of her neck, and snapped shut. The tongue was thick and the lock must have weighed a quarter of a pound. "This must not be comfortable," I said.
"Is Master concerned with the comfort of a slave?" she asked.
"It was merely an observation," I said. The tiny hairs on the back of a girl's neck are very exciting.
"There are various sorts of collars," she said. "Some have a ring on the back, to take the lock. I think they did not realize, in the beginning, how many girls they would bring here. Some of the chains have links wide enough to simply use the chain itself, looped and locked about the girl's throat."
"This is an adapted slave collar," I said, "though it is a size too large for you."
"That is to accommodate the lock tongue, when it is shut into the lock," she said.
"There are two tiny yellow bands on your collar," I said.
"That is because I am a 'yellow girl,'" she said.
"There are also two yellow bands on the chain and lock," I said.
"Our collars are color coded to the locks and chains," she said.
"And you are a 'yellow girl,'" I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Belinda," she said, "if it pleases master."
"It is a lovely name," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said. I would not beat her for not having a pleasing name.
"What other sorts of girls are there here?" I asked.
"There are five color-coded collars," she said, "red, orange, yellow, green, and blue. Each color permits a girl a different amount of freedom in the tracks."
"Are you kept constantly on these chains?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "We wear them only when sent on errands."
"And when you are not on errands?" I asked.
"We are kept safely under lock and key," she said.
"Are all girls in coded collars?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said, "the true beauties are kept in steel pleasure rooms, for the sport of the men."
"Explain to me the color system," I said.
"Blue is most limited," she said. "Green may go where blue may go, and further. I am a yellow. I may go where blue and green may go, but, too, I have access to areas beyond theirs. I may not go as far as the orange collar permits. Where I am stopped, they may continue. The maximum amount of freedom is enjoyed by a girl who wears a collar with two red bands."
She looked at me, over her shoulder.
"But surely Master knows these things," she said.
I turned her about, facing me, and threw her back against the steel wall.
"Forgive me, Master," she said.
"Place the palms of your hands back, against the wall," I said.
She did so.
"You are not of the complex," she said, suddenly. "You are an intruder," she whispered.
With the barrel of the tubular weapon I tore open the loose knot holding the pleasure silk together at her navel. It fell, parted, to either side. She winced, backed against the steel wall. The barrel of the riflelike contrivance, deep in her belly, held her in place.
"Do not kill me, Master," she said. "I am only a slave."
"Slaves sometimes speak much," I told her.
"I will not speak," she said.
"Kneel," I said.
She did so.
"I will not speak," she said. "I promise I will not speak, Master!"
"You are very beautiful, Belinda," I told her. I held the barrel of the gun at her face.
"I will not speak," she whispered. "I will not betray you."
"Take the barrel of the gun in your mouth," I told her. She did so, timidly.
"You know what this can do to you, do you not?" I asked.
She nodded, kneeling, terrified.
"You are not going to speak, are you?" I asked.
She made tiny, terrified, negative movements of her head. Her mouth was very beautiful about the steel. She had not been given permission to rel
ease it.
"Yes, very beautiful," I said.
With the barrel of the weapon I guided her downward, to her side, and then lay the weapon on the plates. Her head was turned to the side. She did not dare to release the weapon. I then began to caress her. To my amazement, almost immediately, she began to respond helplessly, spasmodically. "What a slave you are," I chided. She moaned, and wept and whimpered, but could not speak. When I stood up, and took the weapon from her mouth, she looked at me, startled; she half rose from the floor, turning on her left thigh, her right leg drawn up, the palms of her hands on the floor, her lovely body deeply mottled, a terrain of crimson, with the intense capillary activity which I had induced in her. "Your slave," she said.
I turned about. I did not think she would speak.
I continued on down the halls. Some more men passed me, and two girls. I checked the collars on the girls. One was blue, and one was yellow.
I moved swiftly, and yet the complex was a labyrinth. I did not think any of the humans in the complex would be likely to know the location of the device for which I sought. And I did not think any Kur would reveal it.
I sped rapidly down the hall.
A siren began to whine. It was very loud in the steel corridor.
I slowed my pace to pass a fellow in the brown and black tunic of the personnel of the complex.
"There is an intruder above," I said loudly to him.
"No," he said. "A ventilation shaft grating was found blasted on the surface. There is reason to believe he may now be within the complex."
"Of course," I said, "the siren. It is an internal security alert."
"Keep a close watch," said the fellow.
"Be assured I shall," I said.
We hurried apart from one another. I kept my eyes on the overhead track system. Then I came to a branching in the corridor. The overhead track system, which I had hoped to follow to its termination, also branched at this point. Further, I could see other branchings further away, down each of the corridors. The track system doubtless reached to the far corners, or almost to the far corners, of this level, and, descending and ascending, above stairwells, to various other levels, as well. The siren was loud, persistent, maddening. I cursed inwardly. Here and there in the corridors, and here, too, where I now stood, there was a surveillance lens mounted high in the ceiling, on a swivel. I saw it move, remotely controlled from somewhere, in a scanning pattern. The guard's garb which I wore had been, until now, apparently, suitable disguise. I started off down one of the corridors, intent not to appear indecisive or vacillating. I wished it to seem that I knew my way about. When I glanced back the lens was oriented in a different direction. It had not been trained on me. Two more men passed me in the hall. Each carried one of the dart-firing weapons.
