“Why is that gantry here?” a voice behind me asked.

“Remstma?” I said in a muffled voice, not turning my head. Footsteps approached.

“I can’t hear you. Repeat.”

“Can you hear this?” I said as he got close, whipping about and getting both hands around his neck. His eyes popped, then closed as I banged his skull against the metal frame of the door. With the fate of worlds hanging in the balance I was not gentle. While I was tying him up the spacer took off. It was perhaps the nicest sound I had ever heard.

“You’ve done it, Jim, done it again,” I congratulated myself since there was no one around to do it for me. “Countless generations yet unborn will bless your name. Countless Kekkonshikians will curse it daily, which is just too bad. The evil era of the gray men is drawing to a close.”

There was a dark doorway nearby into which I dragged the latest unconscious body. As I dropped him, not too gently, inside the archway I saw that there was a very large and complex lock on the door. Why? The sign next to it revealed the reason– and at the same moment gave me the idea about what I had to do next.

Armory—authorized personnel only. Locked and forbidding—and what a perfect place to hide out. But only after a little misdirection. Easily enough done. I found my skis, put them on, then slid close to the lighted pad and waited for someone to see me.

These were the dullest and most unobservant people I had ever met. I slithered back and forth for five minutes without being spotted. It was really getting very boring and I was tried as well. In the end I swooped within ten meters of two of them and actually had run into some metal drums before they noticed me. When they looked up, I put my arm over my face, hunched over, shivered, stumbled, then shot away into the darkness. All that was missing was a white arrow pointing at my back. They didn’t react, of course, but I at least hoped they would remember me and the direction I had gone. Which was straight back to the fence. This time I made a big enough hole to drive a tank through, and left it open as well. Picking up speed I slid off into the darkness, heading for the wide open spaces, leaving a clear trail. Using my light at the same time to see if I could find a way to confuse it. The opportunity came soon enough. A car was grinding along, almost paralleling my own course, so I slanted over to join it. The thing was much faster than I was and was well past when I slid into its tracks. But I didn’t go too far this way, just far enough to show our tracks merging and cutting back and forth across each other’s.

When this had been well established I planted my poles and did a reverse turn that would have had my instructors glowing with pride. Up, over and down into the track of the other car ski. Landing cleanly in its track. Then sliding off in the opposite direction, no poles to leave marks, just kicking along well past the point where our tracks had merged.

After this I just kept on until the snow was covering the cars’ tracks. It would cover mine too—and probably the earlier tracks. But if they did follow and see them they would have false lead. Me, I was heading back to the city and safety.

They weren’t early risers on Kekkonshiki, I’ll say that much for them. A few were out, I saw other figures slipping by on skis, but I don’t think any of them saw me. Nor did there seem to be any alarm. I reached the edge of the buildings on the far side of the spaceport and there still didn’t seem to be anything busy happening. What next? I didn’t want to break back in until the chase had gone out the other side. There seemed to be no sign that this was happening as yet. A light in a window beckoned warmly and I slipped over and looked in. A kitchen. Stoves merrily aglow and the cook getting things ready. It looked too good to resist. It was even harder to resist when the round-bottomed and apparently epicene cook turned toward the window and proved to be a female of the species. I had not talked to a female Kekkonshiki yet and the opportunity was too good to resist. Angelina was always accusing me of going after other girls and I should at least give her some sound basis for her suspicions. Even though this visit would negate all of my efforts in false-trail laying and necessitate another effort at misdirection—I still could not resist the temptation. Thus has it been ever with man and maid down through the ages. I found the door, took off my skis, stood them in the snow next to it, and went in.

“Good morning,” I said. “Looks like another cold day, doesn’t it.”

She turned to look at me in silence. Young, wide-eyed and not too unattractive in an unpainted, pastoral sort of way. “You are the one they are looking for,” she said, with just a hint of emotion creeping into her voice. “I must go and give the alarm.”

“You will not give the alarm.” I leaned forward, ready to stop her.

“Yes, master,” she said, and turned back to her pots and pans.

Master! I mulled this a bit and realized that the Kekkonshiki must be the Male Chauvinist Pigs of all time. They treated each other with coldness, lack of emotion, conscious and unconscious cruelty. How must they treat the women! Like this. As chattels, slaves probably. If any of them had protested in the past they had probably been booted out into the snow. A race of docile servants is what the men must have wanted and, obviously, after centuries of breeding they had achieved this noble goal.

My mind was torn away from philosophical speculation by the rich smells from the pots on the stove. It had been far too long since I had eaten last and, after all the exercise, I realized that hunger was nibbling at my interior with sharp teeth. In the rush of events I had again forgotten about food. Now my stomach was making up for this neglect with warning rumbles and groaning sounds.

“What’s cooking, my fair flower of Kekkonshiki?”

She kept her eyes lowered and pointed out cooking utensils one by one, slowly and carefully. “In here is boiling water. In here is fish stew. In here are fish dumplings. In here is seaweed sauce. In here…”

“That’s fine. I’ve heard enough. I’ll have a portion of each, except for the boiling water that is.”

She ladled some metal bowls full and I tucked in with a curved bone spoon. It was pretty tasteless stuff but I was not complaining. I even managed to eat the entire amount a second time before slowing down. As I slurped and shoveled I watched her closely, but she made no attempt to escape or give a warning.

“My name is Jim,” I said, burping with appreciation. “What’s yours?”

“Kaeru.”

“Fine meal, Kaeru. A little bit light on the seasoning, but that’s not your fault—it’s the cuisine of the land. Are you happy in this job?”

“I do not know that word, ‘happy.’ “

“I’ll bet you don’t. What kind of hours do you work here?”

“I do not understand what you mean. I get up, I work, I go to bed. All days are like this.”

“No weekends or holidays either I am sure. This world dearly needs some changes and they are on the way.” Kaeru turned back to her work. “This culture won’t have to be busted. It will just fall apart. The historians will keep a record of it and then it will vanish and a touch of civilization will enter your lives. Look forward to a happy tomorrow, Kaeru.”

“Tomorrow I will work like today.”

“Not for too long, I hope.” With a delicate pinky nail I probed for a bit of seaweed stuck in the interstices of my teeth. “What time do you serve breakfast?”

She looked up at the clock. “In a few minutes when the bell rings.”

“Who eats it?’

“The men here. The soldiers.”

I was off the chair before the last syllable dropped from her lips, pulling on my gloves. “The food has been great, but I’m afraid I have to be pushing on. Heading south, you know. Got to make some time before the sun comes up. I suppose you wouldn’t complain too much if I tied you up?”