by John Norman
“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 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 release 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.
I cursed inwardly. It could take a great deal of time to explore the remote areas of the complex. I did not know, first, where the most remote areas accessible to the overhead track lay or where the surveillance devices, which might be available to human beings, might not scan. The destructive device I sought, I was confident, would lie in an area beyond the reach of the overhead track system and, I conjectured, in an area not public to the surveillance system. I recalled that no such device had been revealed by the monitors in the private chamber of Zarendargar, Half-Ear, war general of the Kurii.
I recalled the girl I had left on the steel plates far behind me, the chain dangling down from the overhead track system to the collar on her neck.
She was a “yellow.” I needed a “red.”
I looked up at the track above me, angrily. At one of its terminations, doubtless the most remote, lay the area which I sought.
The siren stopped whining, and a voice, over a speaker system, in Gorean began to speak. “Secure all slaves,” it said. “All personnel report to their stations.” This message was repeated five times. Some men ran past me. There was then silence in the halls.
It was an intelligent arrangement. In times of danger Gorean slaves are often chained or confined that they may in no way effect the outcome of whatever action may ensue. They will helplessly await their eventual disposition at the hands of masters. That all personnel were to report to their stations would provide the leaders in the complex with an accounting of their forces and suddenly make the surveillance system of the complex effective. A lone figure would be easily identified as the intruder.
I thrust open a door in the hallway. I saw a man within who was securing slaves. He had thrust them, ten girls, naked, in a row, kneeling, belly tight against a steel wall. On short neck chains, with collars, he fastened them in place, Their wrists, at the sides of their heads, in light manacles fastened to wall rings, were similarly secured. He looked up. “I’m hurrying!” he said, angrily. I did not speak. He snapped the right wrist of the last girl on the line in its manacle. He then slipped the key in his pouch and, looking at me angrily, hurried out of the room.
The girls, bellies and bodies tight against the wall, were frightened, but they made not the least sound.
To one side, aligned on the wall, were several track chains, with their attached locks. I found one which had a heavy lock, its key attached, which had on it two red bands. Its chain would fit the longest tracks in the complex.
I then went to the girls, to check the graceful, slender steel collars they wore, those lighter, characteristic slave collars about which the heavy iron wall collars had been closed.
I found two that were marked in two tiny red bands.
“Where is the key to your chains?” I asked one of them.
“Our keeper has it, Master.” she said.
I had feared it would be the case. I had not attempted to kill or detain their keeper. His failure to report at his station would surely have localized my whereabouts in the complex.
I looked about, angrily.
I could not free one of the red-collar girls. Both had been well chained by a Gorean master. There was no time to test and play with the locks, and each wench was secured by three devices, each sufficient to hold her. The explosive darts at my disposal, addressed to their bonds, would surely have destroyed them.
I turned about and, taking one of the chains, sliding it in its track, left the area where the girls were secured. If I were successful in detonating or initiating the trigger sequence on the apparatus I sought I hoped that it would destroy only those parts of the complex in which the munitions and supplies were stored. Perhaps Imnak would succeed in finding and freeing them, somehow. I had wanted him to evacuate as many girls as possible from the complex. And yet, nude, or in their silks, would they last more than an Ahn outside in the polar night? There were probably many such girls in the complex, now helplessly chained, beautiful, secured slaves. They would be, presumably, innocent victims in the wars of beasts and men. Then I dismissed them from my mind; I was again Gorean; I had work to do; they were only slaves.
I re-entered the hall, sliding the chain with me. I had. little doubt I would soon be noticed.
I wondered how long was the track in which the chain slid. Such a chain, without its secured beauty, would be sure to attract attention.
I passed various doors in the hall. There were training rooms, exercise chambers, apartments. If I chose merely to hide it would take the men of the complex a good deal of time to find me. But I could accomplish little by such an action.
I descended some stairs to a lower lever, following the path set by the sliding chain.
I heard some men about a corner, running in step. I let the chain dangle and, hastily, took refuge in a side room, a pantry. I took a roll from a basket and fed on it. The men passed. They had brushed aside the chain, paying it no attention. Perhaps a girl had been removed from it for chaining by the nearest guard when the instructions concerning slave security had been issued over the speaker system. When I was about to reenter the hall I suddenly stepped back. A guard and a free woman, in robes of concealment, had passed. I had not understood until then that such women might be in the complex. There was an intruder in the complex. She was being conducted, doubtless, to a place of greater security. Perhaps this level was being cleared for purposes of conducting a close search. I finished the roll taken from the basket and left the pantry area.
Outside I encountered two more pairs of individuals, two guards and two more of the free women. I gathered they might be being trained in the complex for their duties later.
“He’s not in there,” I said to the men, gesturing with my head to the pantry from which I had emerged. Then I said to them, “Hurry!”
They hurried on.
I caught sight of a flash of ankle beneath the heavy robes of concealment worn by the women. It was a trim, exciting ankle. I smiled. I supposed they had not been told that when their political and military work for their faction was completed they would be silked and collared and kept as slaves.
Another man hurried by, running a slave girl on her neck chain before him. She was a yellow-collar girl, as Belinda, whom I had earlier had in the halls. had been. She was still in a snatch of slave silk. “She should be secured,” I said to the man, sternly.
“She will be,” he said.
I heard another man coming, from behind me. I spun a
bout, covering him with the weapon I carried.
“Do not fire,” he said. “I am Gron. from Al-Ka section.”
“What are you doing in this area.” I said.
“I have come to fetch the Lady Rosa.” he said.
“In what apartment is she,” I demanded.
“Forty-two,” he said, “Central Level Minus one, Mu corridor.”
“Correct,” I told him, lowering the weapon.
He breathed more easily.
“I will fetch her,” I said. Indeed, I had need of a wench. “Return to AI-Ka section.”
He hesitated momentarily.
“Hurry,” I said, angrily. “A condition of possible danger exists.”
He lifted his hand, acknowledging this, and turned about. He soon disappeared down the corridor.
I soon determined that I was in Mu corridor, from Gorean markings high on the wall near a point where the corridor branched in two directions. It seemed probable to me that I was on the appropriate level as I had encountered the man at some distance from the nearest stairway.
I saw no others at that time in the corridor. I slid the chain along beside me.
Soon I had come to the steel door marked forty-two. I saw that a branch of the recessed chain track, above, entered the apartment, doubtless so that the Lady Rosa could be served by appropriately secured female slaves. I opened the door and slid the chain, on its track, within the opening. Inside the apartment was luxurious. plush and silked. It was dimly lit by five candles in a tall floor stand. There was much ornate, intricate carving in the room. A woman, startled, leaped up from the large, rounded bed on which she had sat. She wore the robes of concealment. She whipped the silken sheath of a veil across her features.
“You should knock, you fool,” she said. “I had scarcely time to conceal my features.”
Sbe looked at me, her eyes flashing over the veil. Her features were, even veiled, not particularly concealed. Her face was narrow but very beautiful. She had extremely dark eyes, and dark hair, even bluish black, which, under the hood of the robes, I could see was drawn back about the sides of her head. Her cheekbones were quite high. Her face was regal, aristocratic, and cold. She was angry.