The man held up a hand. «I go-I go-but I beg leave to wait for my comrade. He will not be long.»
«Comrade?» Blade had not bargained on two. He turned wary and moved his bar into a defensive position. The Gnoman turned to shout into the foyer of the building he had just left.
«Porfax. Hurry up, you fool. There is an officer here who says we must join our group.»
Blade moved so he could peer into the foyer. Another Gnoman was topping a female sleeper, copulating furiously. He answered without looking up from his work. «A moment, Tortat, a moment. I am nearly finished.»
Blade broke off the encounter. He walked away, growling back to the Gnoman, Tortat. «Let him finish. Then both get to your group. You may not have heard, but Jantor is punishing all lawbreakers by feeding them to the mole rats. It is your choice.»
Blade rounded a corner and broke into a run. Hs disguise had worked well enough thus far. Then the first head pain struck him.
The agony blinded him. A streak of black lightning in his brain. He reeled into another foyer and fell to his knees, clutching his temples. He damned the computer-not now, not yet, not while he still had hopes of completing his mission. He still had a bare chance to bring peace into this devastated and terror-ridden DX
The pain eased. It was only the preliminary groping of the computer as it moved near the return phase. Blade concentrated with all his power, trying to get through to Lord Leighton by the crystal.
Almost immediately the crystal reversed itself, the surge alternated to feedback from HD, and Blade, though grateful that the pain was gone, began to curse as he deciphered Lord L's thoughts in his own mind. The damned old fool. At a time like this!
If possible explore use of quarks and partons by scientists DX. Projection here of information received so far indicates possible accelerator capable of 500 million, correct, billion, repeat billion electron volts. Quantum also possible theory with quanta, i.e., packages, transmitted in units for powering each organism Morphi. Realize this complex but unable simplify. Urge you at all costs contact DX form of life for this information-in following priority: method transferring rock to power-method transmitting through space, re latter explore magnetohydrodynamics, also cryogenic sub-surface-this latter definite possible in view of your sewer people-do best for England-hurry-return phase approaching. Leighton.
Blade sat on the floor of the foyer and swore. He rubbed his shaven, blood-smeared head. An afterthought of Lord L's popped into his brain via crystal.
. proud of you. Renaming this mission Prometheus. Also alert for possible triple or quadruple breeder reactors. Keep close contact. Crystal working perfectly. LL.
Blade said some nasty words. All that scientific garbage — did the old man really think that Blade was able to comprehend it, much less obtain information by bluff on the basis of a garbled message which meant nothing at all to Blade? He was more at home in Morphi than he was in the scientific gibberish Lord L had just planted in his brain.
Such thinking was a form of self-pity and Blade knew it. It would never do. He had no time for self-pity, no time for anything but survival and, just possibly, some answers.
He waited to be sure there would be no more head pains, then continued on to the Hall of Entertainment. He had to smile as he approached the massive building. Lord L would explode if he knew that Blade, far from looking for «quarks and partons,» was trying to save a Gnoman girl from mole rats. Just at that moment it would have pleased Blade beyond measure to suspend both Lord L and the Prime Minister over a pit of mole rats.
The lobby doors of the Hall of Entertainment stood open. Blade, from a doorway across the way, could see on a diagonal through the lobby and into the inner recesses of the hall. Half a dozen Gnomen troopers lounged about the lobby. They did not look happy. They would be, Blade pondered, part of the guard left to stand watch over Norn, if indeed Jantor was using her as bait.
There was no sign of the girl. He would have to go into the hall to test the trap. All he could see, apart from the lobby, was a maze of corridors. Blade hefted his spear bar and strode boldly across the street and into the lobby. Audacity was the only way. He bent over to conceal his tallness and shambled, wondering once again why he was risking everything for the sake of one Gnoman girl. It could not be love-he scarcely knew her other than sexually-and so it must be sentiment, and sentiment was extremely dangerous in Dimension X.
Most of the Gnomen soldiers ignored him. Three were playing dice and did not even look up. One fellow, a sub-subchief, glanced at Blade and made a vague gesture of salute.
«Have you come to relieve us?» the man asked. «Where are the others?»
Blade answered, «They are close behind. How is the girl Norn?»
The Gnoman shrugged. «As before. She no longer weeps or screams. What word from Jantor?»
«That you are relieved. You can join your group again and get back to killing Morphi. I will take over here.»
They were all looking at him now. The dice players had stopped. The sub-subchief rubbed his sleek head. «You alone will take over?»
Blade snapped his voice at them. «No, you fool. My unit is just behind me. They are attending to some details that were overlooked and that Jantor is going to hear about. Many of the Morphi males are untouched and many of the females unraped. This carelessness cannot be tolerated. Jantor has given strict orders that every female be raped. He has good reason for this, which you would not understand. So be off with you. I order it. See that not one Morphi woman is overlooked.»
It worked. The six Gnomen licked their lips, made the sign of the fylfot and took off. Blade stood alone in the huge lobby.
He counted nine doors opening off the lobby. He chose a central one and shoved it with his foot, his spear bar ready. At once he heard the dreadful and familiar sound of mole rats, a gnashing and gobbling noise of blind fury and hunger. He stepped through the door.
Blade was in the rear circular aisle of a down-slanting arena. Wide aisles led down between rows of seats to a center stage. Part of the stage floor was missing, revealing a pit, and over the pit hung the girl Norn. She hung limply, swaying a bit, her head collapsed forward on her bare breasts. She was unconscious. From the pit below her welled the sounds of the mole rats.
Then he saw the chain move. The girl's body moved slowly downward, closer to the pit opening. Then it stopped. Norn had endured this inhuman torture for hours. It was just as well she was unconscious.
For a few seconds Blade stood mentally digesting the incredible scene. The seats of the arena were filled with Morphi spectators, male and female, and they were untouched. They sat or stood or lay about as they had been when the power went off. On that part of the stage still intact were actors, both men and women, one with his hand outstretched in dramatic declaration. Near Blade, leaning against a railing, was a Morphi vendor with a tray of sweet canned drink and plastic-wrapped food. Blade gave him a push with his foot and the vendor tumbled over, scattering the contents of his tray.
The ceiling of the arena was of transparent plastic, a skylight admitting the milky rays of the Moon and, Blade noted, the harsher beam of a searchlight.
He started down the aisle toward the stage. He leaped to the stage and moved to the edge of the pit. Norn did not move. He called to her.
«Norn? It is Blade. Can you hear?»
No answer. Her lithe naked body twirled on the chain. Blade peered down into the pit. They knew he was there, blind or not. They were leaping and snarling, gobbling, snashing, an obscene wriggling mass of slimy bodies. One big fellow leaped higher than the rest and its cruel spade claws slashed at the pit wall not four feet below Blade.