by Джеффри Лорд
He had no time for speculation on the reasons for this difference or on anything else, because the Ice Master sprang down from the platform and barked an order. Instantly the little group broke up, the four guards carrying the two bodies disappearing down one corridor, the two with Blade leading him off to a second, and four more guards springing up onto the slab, lifting Leyndt off her feet, and departing down still a third passage at a run. Leyndt was silent, either too numbed by the events of the last half-hour to resist, or consciously deciding that it would be futile to do so.
Blade himself, after seeing what Pnarr’s resistance had produced, was very much determined to stay calm, stay alive, and carry out his mission of finding out as much as possible about the Ice Master and his allies. He took it for granted now that the aliens existed; even if so much of what he had seen had not been from a technology far beyond that of the Graduki, the sheer size of the base would have been far beyond any local ability to establish here in the polar wastes.
So he let his guards lead him down the corridor, into a smaller one that branched off to the right, and to the far end of that one. A door showed in a recess in the wall; one of the guards slapped a white disc on the wall beside the door, and it slid open. The two guards cut Blade’s bonds and pushed him forward. He staggered forward into the room, almost falling to his knees, as the door whispered shut behind him.
If the room was a cell, the Ice Master obviously believed in treating at least some of his prisoners well. The room was nearly forty feet across and twice as high as Blade. Walls and ceiling were a checkerboard of pastel colors, blues and greens predominating, while underfoot spread a thick soft dark maroon rug. Rug? Blade reached down and felt the fibers curling around his toes. They felt more like the tendrils of some sort of plant. A living rug-more biological engineering? Possibly. He resumed his examination of the room.
One corner was fitted out as a living area-a platform for sleeping, covered with cushions and quilts, other cushions for sitting on, a row of shelves, a folding table. Another corner was fitted out as a bath, with a tall golden-mesh screen that presumably hid a toilet, a similarly gilded basin, and an enormous sunken tub not much smaller than a swimming pool. The rest of the room was empty. It would on the whole have made the most sybaritic London jetsetter run to his interior decorator, insisting that it be duplicated at all costs.
He went over to the wall and laid his hand against it. He felt a gentle warmth radiating from it, instead of the chill that he had unconsciously expected, since he knew he must be well down inside the ice or the chill rock below it, and more than the warmth-a gentle throbbing like the slow beating of an incredibly large and distant heart. He put his ear against the wall, trying to hear the sound more clearly and learn something about the nature of the source. He still had his ear against the wall when the door slid open and the Ice Master walked in.
He had taken off his surface clothing and wore a dark red coverall that was stretched tight over his broad chest and around his thick limbs. His feet and head were bare, and he wore on one side of his belt one of the curved swords and on the other side a small black box that looked like a pocket calculator or a radio. His head was almost entirely bald, except for a fringe of gray-flecked brown hair ending just above his ears, and all in all he looked almost more like the chief of a tribe of savages than Nilando did. Blade smiled at the thought.
The Ice Master returned the smile with a note of smugness that did nothing to put Blade at his ease. Then he took a few steps into the room and sat down on the floor. Blade noticed the Ice Master carefully kept between him and the door. Deciding that nothing was to be gained by remaining standing, he also sat down, but at a safe distance. He was not going to give the Ice Master the impression of any trust or friendliness-not now at any rate.
The Ice Master put both large hands on his knees and inclined his head in a ceremoniously slow nod. Then he spoke. His voice was higher-pitched than Blade would have naturally associated with such a large man, and his words came out slowly, calmly, and with the confidence of a man who knows he is in command of the situation and will remain that way.
«I was hoping you would make the flight north. You and Doctor Leyndt. The pilot was not so valuable, but it would have been interesting to see how he reacted to the conditioning. Although I have usually had to destroy violent ones like that in the past. I would not have destroyed the guard, except that he acted beyond his orders. That showed his conditioning was faulty. Even if I were willing to overlook it, the Menel would not be. They are very concerned about their own safety, the Menel are. But perhaps when one lives two thousand years, to be cut off at the age of, let us say, five hundred means a great loss. I do not know.»
Blade recognized the ploy. The Ice Master was hoping to establish his dominance by talking of things about which Blade knew nothing, but which were certain to arouse his interest. Having aroused that interest, he could increase the domination by throwing Blade bits of explanation, like throwing bones to a yelping dog. It was a comparatively basic interrogation technique, and for a moment Blade felt almost disappointed. Was this the best the fabled Ice Master, ruler of the snowy wastes, creator (or at least manager) of the Ice Dragons, and presumed ally of beings from beyond space (no doubt these were the Menel) could manage? Then he hastily reined in his complacency. The Ice Master was probably just exploring. It would be unwise to assume there was nothing more in his arsenal.
He was also going on. «-much impressed by the abilities you showed, both physical and mental. Of course I had no way of confirming the reports I received, but I hoped that if you were all they said you were, you would do what you have just done.» After this cryptic remark, he paused briefly, looking at Blade with a stare that seemed to want to strip him not only of all his clothing but of all his psychological barriers and expose the nakedness of his soul as well as of his body. Blade again noted the clumsiness, but again resisted any impulse to dismiss the man completely. Clumsy interrogation was often one of the most subtle techniques of a highly skilled interrogator, to get a subject feeling complacent, certain he had the measure of the man quizzing him.
«I am glad Doctor Leyndt came along. I had planned to make her one of the Girls (the way he said the word emphasized the capital letter) but now I see you care for her. At least enough to wish not to see her killed. Or thrown to the male slaves when they are given Pleasure Days. Or converted, as your pilot and the dead guard will be, into nutrient cultures for the Menel. This can be done while the subject is still alive-at least for a few hours. It appears to be quite painful.»
Blade made no attempt to control the disgust be was beginning to feel for this hulking, arrogant, and now sadistic brute. No, perhaps that was not quite right-there was nothing about the Ice Master yet revealed to suggest any sort of stupidity. In fact, there was too much heard and seen suggesting the reverse. Although he had yet to sort out what the Ice Master had done himself, what he had done with the help of the Menel, and what the Menel had done by themselves perhaps centuries before the Ice Master had even been born. He took a deep breath to calm himself and went on listening.
«Obviously I could condition you thoroughly enough to make someone of even your demonstrated strength and intelligence thoroughly docile. But that would destroy many of the same qualities that made me so-interested-in getting you into my hands.» Blade noted the barely concealed hesitation over the choice of words, suggesting a barely averted slip. So he possessed qualities of special interest to the Ice Master. That was indeed «interesting,» at least.
«You may have as many of the Girls as you wish, of course, and any extra furnishings you need can be brought in-«as the Ice Master gestured expansively around the apartment like a barkeeper welcoming a particularly good customer. «I would rather not have to even hurt Leyndt in order to influence you. She appears to be worth more than most women. You can easily see that the guards are numerous and well-armed, and you have already seen what the Pi-field that envelops my stronghold will do to mor
e advanced weapons that might give one man a chance against superior numbers.» Blade nodded in what he hoped would come across as a gesture of boredom rather than of agreement. The Ice Master was leading up to something, although Blade found it hard to believe that anything much short of announcing the Day of Judgment justified this long a build-up.
He decided to speak. Trying to balance his voice between boredom, contempt, and stubbornness, concealing the curiosity and the disgust, he said shortly, «Well and good. So you’re going to treat me like a prize laboratory specimen. Is that what you have in mind for me?»
The Ice Master managed to look shocked or at least give a fairly good imitation of it. «You are certainly not a specimen. You are an ally. You are my ally against the Menel.»
Chapter 14
After rejecting the notion that he might not have heard the Ice Master correctly, Blade went through more calculations of risk and advantage in less time than ever before in all his career in either Home or X Dimensions. Although he maintained an outward appearance of no more than casual interest, within his mind was working furiously, breaking down the Ice Master’s statement into logical chunks.
The Ice Master wanted-or needed-an ally. So he had weaknesses or inadequacies. A man strong enough to stand alone does not seek allies. Doing everything oneself is always safer, but seldom possible. So-what were the man’s weaknesses?
And he needed an ally against the Menel. What was he planning to do to them? Or was he merely planning to defend himself against something they were planning to do to him? How far was he planning to go against them, if he was moving in that direction? How much was he prepared to offer Blade in return for his help-assuming that it turned out Blade could in fact give any help at all?
Blade found himself devoutly hoping that he could strike a bargain with the Ice Master. The man’s fear, weakness, ambition-whatever-opened the possibility of studying the menace of the glaciers and the Ice Dragons, searching out weak points for future attack, with the active help of the man who was helping to create that menace. And beyond that, if there was some sort of conflict between the Ice Master and his mysterious allies, it might prove the chink into which a wedge could be driven, driven home with mighty blows, to split apart the whole menace and bring it to ruin and collapse.
All this marched-or rather, stampeded like mad elephants-through Blade’s mind in a few seconds, while he stared blandly at the Ice Master. Then he frowned with studied care and said quietly and slowly, «That is a very interesting thing you need. It is not one I would have expected of you. The Menel have given you far more power than even your great genius could have won for you alone.» That statement was a calculated risk. If he seemed too reluctant, the Ice Master might back off from his proposal, with consequences unknown but probably nasty. On the other hand, if he seemed too eager to join in a fight against the Menel, the Ice Master (except in the unlikely event that he were a complete fool) would hardly be able to avoid suspecting that he also was on Blade’s list of Victims. Once again, everything depended on striking the right balance.
«They have,» said the Ice Master even more slowly and quietly than Blade, as though he were afraid of being overheard. «But what they have given is less than I would have liked, and they can take it back any time they please. I save them much work and a little danger, and because they are a lazy and cowardly race they reward me greatly. But they could easily decide I am too expensive a luxury, that I could be done without. And then they will throw me away, as easily as their scout ships kept pace with your flier and their lift-field brought it down to the ice. I am like a stick in the hands of a child who uses it to scratch figures in the dirt. When he is tired of scratching or finds a better one he will break the stick over his knee and throw the pieces away. I will not be thrown away. I will find help. I will!» The Ice Master’s voice had abandoned all its cautious quietness now, rising to a roar on the final «I will!»
The Ice Master was insane, thought Blade. Whether or not he had been so when he first allied himself with the Menel, he had become so during his alliance with them.
The isolation under the polar ice, the ambitions that the superior science all around him had aroused, had definitely pushed him over the edge. Blade recognized the fact, recognized that it would make any cooperation with the Ice Master for any purpose at all even more dangerous, then filed it away in his mind. Then he turned his attention back to the Ice Master, who had now somewhat calmed himself, although his massive chest was still heaving violently. In the same tone of voice he had used before, he said, «I do not know whether I could help you, if the Menel are as strong as they appear to be. A people that can bring a dust cloud out of interstellar space to freeze a planet, then send it away when it has done its work, are not foolish or weak.»
That broke through the Ice Master’s defenses almost by accident. If he had ever had any suspicions of Blade’s reasons in probing for information on the Menel, they vanished, first in a torrent of wild, mocking laughter that went on and on, echoing hideously around the chamber until Blade thought the Ice Master had finally lost all control and had to fight with the temptation to clasp his hands over his ears, then in an almost equally wild, spewed-out jumble of recollections, theories, guesses, observations, and experiences over the past twenty years, out of which Blade set himself to assemble a coherent picture of the Menel.
The Menel (which was as accurately as human tongues could pronounce their name for themselves) were indeed from a planet of another star. Driven across space by some unspecified catastrophe or threatened catastrophe too great for even their super-science to meet, their ships had reached the fringes of this world’s system some eleven hundred years before. Of the planets in that system, all were either too cold or too warm. But for a species with great knowledge and a life expectancy of two thousand or more years, cooling off one of the warmer worlds through tipping its climate into a glacial era was a perfectly reasonable project.
So the Menel brought the dust cloud; it performed its job and was sent on its way. Then they settled down in the northern polar regions, dug several cave complexes out of the rock below the glaciers, and waited for the day when the planet would be chilled down enough for them to move about on the surface freely for more than short periods of time. They were still waiting (Blade could hear the melodramatic note in the other man’s voice) when the Ice Master had come upon the scene.
He had done so through an accident. The Menel were omnivorous, but animal protein was a desired luxury, and occasionally they raided south into human-inhabited territories in search of victims. On one of these raids, a Menel flier had suffered an engine failure, and crashed near the Ice Master’s laboratories. He had rescued the survivors, protected them from the excessive warmth that would have killed them after a few hours, and promised to find ways of communicating with their colony if they would teach him how to do so. He had already been thinking in terms of striking a bargain with the Menel.
The process of working out a system of mutual communication had taken over a year, because neither species had a vocal apparatus suitable for reproducing the other’s language. During all that year, the Ice Master had successfully concealed his dealings with the Menel from his assistants and even from his servants, several of whom were previous successful experiments in genetic and biological engineering. But eventually a mutually intelligible code emerged, one developed enough to permit the exchange of scientific data, and he released the two Menel to return to their colony with the word that a human sought to aid them.
Unfortunately, before the Menel could decide how to respond to this news, one of his experimental creations, a youth named Stramod, led a revolt among the servants and escaped with many of his fellows. So great was the uproar caused by this revolt that the Ice Master knew he must flee at once, with as much of his learning and equipment as possible, to the only beings on the planet who might have any reason to shelter or aid them.
His gamble had proved correct; he had been able to strike a barga
in with the Menel. They helped him create the Ice Dragons, with which he terrorized the Treduki and indirectly the Graduki, so keeping down any possible opposition from the human population. The Dragons also kidnapped large numbers of human beings, some to be made slaves, some to be made guards or Girls or Dragon Masters, some to be simply fed into processing vats that broke them down into forms suitable for Menel food.
Some of the Ice Master’s former friends and associates were now in Graduk ruling circles, supporting the Conciliators. A very few of them acted as his private intelligence network, through which he had been able to keep track of the doings of the Union for Cooperation comparatively well, and thus of Blade’s arrival and of his history. He had immediately begun hoping that some circumstance would either destroy Blade or bring him north, and although the unanticipated Conciliator move against the Union had delayed this, so it had worked out.
The Menel had built him this massive base for his activities, as well as other facilities farther south where the Ice Dragons and the Dragon Masters lived. They did not keep a particularly close watch on what he was doing, although one of their settlements was nearby. However, he was certain that many of the guards were taken down into the settlement by the Menel for a day or two and given an extra layer of conditioning that made them act as spies on him. He didn’t think the Menel had studied human psychology well enough to permit them to completely wipe out his own conditioning, which was advanced far beyond anything dreamed of in the outside world. That was the note of complacency on which he ended his long ramble through his own history and that of the Menel.