John Norman - Beasts of Gor

“Yes,” she said.

This surprised me.

“Take me to it,” I said.

She drew herself up, proudly. “No,” she said. She winced, the barrel of the riflelike contrivance thrust into her belly. I forced her back until she was pinned against the wall. “You would not,” she said.

“You are only a woman,” I told her.

“I will take you!” she said. “But it will do you no good, for humans are not allowed beyond that point!”

“Which way?” I asked.

Her eyes indicated the direction.

I thrust her, roughly, stumbling, with the side of the rifle-like contrivance, in that direction.

“Faster,” I told her.

We proceeded swiftly down the corridor.

“If we pass men,” she said, “you know I need only cry out to them.”

“Do so,” I said, “and half of you may remain on the chain.” I had not gagged her, for that, surely, would have provoked suspicion.

“Faster,” I ordered. I prodded her with the barrel of the riflelike contrivance and she cried out with pain, stumbling, and hurried her pace.

Soon she was gasping. She was an Earth girl. She was not in the condition of the Gorean slave girl, with her almost perfect diet, imposed by masters, her muscles toned by a regime of exercises, her legs and wind toughened by long hours of training in sensuous dance.

I saw one of the lens monitors rotate on its swivel in our direction.

“Hurry, Kajira,” I said. -“It is long past the time whea you should have been secured.”

The monitor turned away.

For several Ehn we hurried through the haIls. Sometimes we descended stairwells. She was sweating and gasping. The chain was heavy on her neck and shoulders. “Hurry, pretty Pepita,” I encouraged her.

Then, on a given level, four below the central level, we saw four men approaching.

“Walk,” I told her.

I walked beside her, obscuring her left thigh.

She shuddered, seeing how the men looked at her. One of them laughed. “A new girl,” he said.

In less than four Ehn from that point, the track system terminated.

“This is the farthest reach of the track system,” she said. The chain dangled downward, then looped up to her neck. Her small wrists twisted futilely behind her in the encircling, knotted sandal string, that simple device which constituted her bond. “Humans may not go further.”

“Have you seen those who are not humans?” I asked.

I knew there were few Kur in the complex.

“No,” she said, “but I know them to be a form of alien. Doubtless they are humanlike, perhaps indistinguishable from humans.”

I smiled. She had not seen the beasts she served.

“I have brought you here,” she said, “now free me.”

I opened the padlock and freed her neck of the chain. The attached padlock, with its key, I snapped about a link of the chain, between some four and five feet from the floor. This is the inactive position of the chain, lock at collar level, chain terminating with a closed loop, the loop about a foot off the floor, an arrangement permitting a girl to be quickly and conveniently put on the chain and permitting the chain, if no girl is upon it, to be slid in its track without dragging on the steel plates.

She turned about, holding her bound wrists to me, that I might unbind them. Instead I took her by the hair and walked her, bent over, beside me, sliding the chain along with us, backward, until I came to a branching in a hail. I slid The chain a distance down that hall, and then, still holding her, returned to that point at which the track system terminated.

“Free me,” she begged. “Oh!” she cried, as my hand twisted in her hair.

“You are too pretty to free,” I told her.

I then thrust her ahead of me, down the corridor, beyond the termination point of the chain-and-track system.

She turned about, terrified. “Humans may not go beyond this point,” she said.

“Precede me,” I told her.

Moaning, the bound, silked girl turned about and preceded me.

I saw that no more of the lensed monitors covered this portion of the corridor. I grew uneasy, for it seemed matters proceeded too simply. A steel door lay at the end of the corridor. I had speculated that the destructive device would lie beyond the reach of slaves, and in an area secret to the monitoring system, which might be available at times to humans. Yet, now, I was apprehensive.

I tried the door at the end of the corridor. It was open. I thrust it back with the butt of the riflelike contrivance I carried.

I looked at the girl. I nodded to her to approach me. She did so. I held my left hand open, at my waist. She stiffened, and looked at me, angrily. I opened and closed my left hand once. I saw her training in Gorean customs had been thorough. But she never thought that such a gesture would be used to her. She came beside me, and a bit behind me, and, crouching, put her head down, deeply. I fastened my hand in her hair. She winced. Women are helpless in this position. I carried the dart-firing weapon, loaded, in my right hand. I looked cautiously about the frame of the door. I entered, conducting the girl. The room, large, seemed deserted.

It seemed a normal storage room, though quite large. It was filled with boxes, the markings on which I could not read. Some of the boxes were in the nature of open crates. They seemed to contain machinery and parts for machinery. There were corridors among the boxes.

I heard a sound and, releasing the girl, lifted the weapon, with both hands.

A figure, in black, stood up, high, atop several boxes. “It is not here,” he said.

“Drusus,” I said. I recalled him, he of the Assassins, whom I had bested on the sand of the small arena.

He carried a dart-firing weapon.

“Put aside your weapon, slowly,” I commanded him.

“It is not here,” he said. “I have searched.”

“Put aside your weapon,” I said.

He put it at his feet.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I suspect the same as you,” he said. “I have searched for the lever or key, or wheel, or whatever it may be, which, manipulated or turned, will destroy this place.”

“You serve Kurii,” I said.

“No longer,” said he. “I fought, and was spared by one who was a man. I have thought long on this. Though I may be too weak to be an Assassin, yet perhaps I have strength sufficient unto manhood.”

“How do I know you speak the truth?” I said.

“Four Kur were here,” he said, “to guard this place, to intercept him who might attempt to attain it. Those I slew.”

He gestured to an aisle in the boxes. I could smell Kur blood. I did not take my eyes from him. The girl, turning about, shrank suddenly back, desperately, futilely, trying to free her small bands, tied behind her back, and stilled a scream.

“Four times I fired, four I slew,” he said.

“Report what you see,” I told the girl.

“There are four beasts, or parts of beasts,” she said, “three here, and one beyond.”

“Take up your weapon,” I said to Drusus.

He picked it up. He looked at the woman. “A pretty slave girl,” he said.

“I am not a slave girl!” she said. “I am a free woman! I am the Lady Graciela Consuelo Rosa Rivera-Sanchez!”

“Amusing,” he said. He descended from the boxes.

“I had thought the destructive device, if it exists, would be here,” I said.

“I thought so, too,” he said.

“If you trip or trigger the device,” said the girl, “we will all be killed!”

‘The invasion must be stopped,” I said.

“The device must not be detonated,” she cried. “We would all be killed, you fools!”

I struck her back against the boxes, blood at her mouth, and she sank to the floor.

“You think and act as a slave,” I said.