Beasts of Gor (60 page)

I looked up. It seemed quiet. Yet two weapons had been discharged. The tubular weapons discharge with a hiss. It is not particularly loud. The explosion of the darts, however, timed to detonate an instant after fixing themselves in the target, is much louder. The first explosion had been muffled in the body of its victim. The second, however, might have been heard. It had burst, after a long, parabolic trajectory, over a thousand feet below, showering ice upward more than two hundred feet into the air.

I had returned to the complex, crossing the ice near it, with the sled. This would assure me, I hoped, that I would not be mistaken for a common ice beast. I did not know what signs and countersigns, or signals, the white Kur might have had at its disposal to protect itself in this regard. I, at any rate, had none. Ice beasts, or common ice beasts, of course, do not use sleds. I think the sled let me approach more closely than I might otherwise have been capable of doing. The fur of the Kur, too, in the uncertain light, of course, was helpful. I had kept, too, as I could, to the cover of the pack ice. I had left the sled at the foot of the ice island and, with the fur of the Kur as a camouflage, had climbed, crag by crag, projection by projection, foothold by foothold, to the height of the island. The hatch through which I had exited did not have an obvious opening from the outside. Again, I did not know any signs or countersigns, or signals. I had climbed the height of the ice island looking for some mode of ingress to the complex. I was interested not so much in official thresholds, of a sort which I supposed would be provided to facilitate the work of lookouts and guards, as apertures more practical to my purposes, apertures unguarded through which passage would not require any system of recognition devices. The air in the complex had been fresh. It was my hope that there would be ventilation shafts. If the Kurii relied on a closed system I must take my chances with more standard portals.

It seemed quiet. I reached again for the fur of the Kur.

It came so swiftly I was not sure I saw it. I may have heard or sensed it the object cutting the fur of the parka and lodging a foot behind me in the ice and I flung myself away from it and the ice shattering and exploding outward and the blast and ice pushing me like a hand and I struck a projection of ice and slipped downward, and then I saw them coming two of them both armed and I slipped and lay contorted at the foot of the ice projection.

“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 fist 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 linnak.

“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 Ininak.

“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 where 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.”