"It is better that you fellows know only your own sections," I said.
"There is greater security that way," said one.
"Yes," agreed the other.
"If you see anything suspicious, report it," I advised them.
"We shall," said the first man.
"In the meantime, see that the grille on that shaft is replaced," I said.
"We'll take care of it," they said.
"Why is it open?" asked one.
"I was checking it," I said.
"Oh," said the other.
"You forgot to turn off the heat unit on your suit," said one. "That will use up the charge."
I pushed in the button which was more raised than its fellow on the panel of the device.
"I forgot that once," said one of the men. "It is easy to do, the suit maintaining a standard temperature."
"Perhaps they should have a light on the panel," I said.
"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.