And he would certainly be able to help with training the men. To take the stronghold from its own people, the attackers would have to commit to memory every scrap of information Blade had learned about it. How long would that take? Would it take so long that the Ice Master would become suspicious? However long it would take, it would have to be done. Otherwise Blade knew he would be leading a hundred or more men who trusted him like sheep to the slaughterhouse.
But those were problems to be considered later. Now he had to find a way to sow distrust between the Menel and their human ally. The Menel, it appeared, came up from their settlement from time to time. Did they have a regular route and schedule? The Girls would hardly know that, since they did not even know of the existence of the Menel, but here as elsewhere they might know things from which he could deduce much. After that-how to give the appearance of an attack on the Menel by the regular guards?
That brought him to a dead stop for an unpleasant moment. What did the Menel look like? He had only the vaguest clues about this, apart from the Ice Master's hints that they were small enough to fit inside an ordinary human dwelling without too much trouble. So-an upper limit on their size. But otherwise? Blade remembered the scratches-clawmarks? — and the moldy odor at the head of the shaft, and grimaced. Then he put the matter aside and moved on to the next question.
He was still moving from question to question when fatigue finally drove him to the sleeping platform. But he had answered a good many of the questions, and he could see the rest falling into place before much longer. He was on the move again-now with his mind, in a few more days with his body.
Chapter 17
Blade waited until his mental clock told him enough time had passed for the Girl he had just been with to have returned safely to her quarters. He didn't want her or any of the eight other Girls he had taken Pleasure with, talked to, and given names to, involved in what was about to happen. The ordinary guards were kill-happy enough; what the Menel-conditioned guards might be like, their minds worked over by non-humans with probably a very imperfect knowledge of human psychology, he didn't know. He didn't want to find out at the expense of any of the Girls, either.
When he was reasonably certain the Girl was safe, he rose from the platform, went over to the door, and began hammering on it, calling loudly and incoherently at the same time. He kept on until he heard the booted feet of guards in the corridor outside, and a harsh voice demanding, «What's the trouble?»
«I–I'm sick. I-«and he gave what he hoped would be a convincing imitation of a man being violently sick to his stomach, then fell to the floor and began thrashing about and groaning audibly. The guards were normally under strict orders not to enter his chamber, but he was wagering that in such an emergency situation their fear of the Ice Master's wrath at losing Blade would make them willing to risk a small violation of the rules.
He was right. He heard the slap of a hand against the door switch and the faint whine of the door motor starting up. At the swish of the door opening he was already flattened against the wall a few feet to the right of the arch, hands ready to chop, knees slightly bent for a spring. As the door opened wide enough for the two guards to dash through, swords drawn, he moved.
He took one guard out with a kick from the rear that sent him flying halfway across the chamber before he hit the floor and slid the rest of the way into the empty tub with a thump and a clatter of weapons. The other guard had time to turn around and raise his sword. but he made the mistake of raising it for a slash and not relying on a quicker thrust. Blade's flattened hand chopped him across the throat before the sword started down; he choked, started to crumble, then Blade kicked him in the stomach and he shot backward and joined his late comrade in the tub.
Guard number two had dropped his sword as he fell; Blade picked it up and wedged it in the door track to keep any casual passerby from closing the door and locking him in the room. Then he went over to the tub and began stripping the two guards of their clothing and weapons. Neither was quite as large as he was, but he found the larger one's trunks and boots fit him without too much discomfort or restriction on his movement. Fortunately the guards wore no distinctive hair styles, tattoos, or other recognition marks; this made his job of disguising himself as one (at least well enough to fool the Menel) comparatively easy.
Now came the second risky part-disposing of the bodies. They had to disappear without a trace, both to demoralize their comrades more effectively and to prevent their being found where they might cast suspicion on Blade. The nearest disposal chute large enough to take the bodies was some fifty feet down the corridor. He slung the first body over his shoulder, stuck his head out to see if the corridor was clear, then hurried down to the chute opening and pitched the body in.
If anybody came by now, he would have to kill them and send their bodies after the guards. Down at the bottom of the chute lay the waste disposal chambers where the organic and non-organic wastes were separated, to be recycled respectively for algae cultures and building material. He hoped nobody would appear. Apart from the possibility of somebody getting away to give the alarm, too many killings too soon might weaken the regular guards enough to give the Menel-conditioned ones a fatally large edge.
Nobody came. He disposed of the second body, went back to his chamber, picked up the sword, and hung it on his belt. He checked the chamber to make sure it looked normal, then went out and closed the door behind him. Now it was time to prowl! He headed down the corridor toward the elevator that would take him down to the slave level. His first goal had to be the head of the shaft to the Menel colony and then-well, he would see.
He met two guards escorting four slaves as he approached the elevator entrance; a late working party being led back to their quarters, no doubt. He hoped his disguise would hold. The slaves would hardly help the guards, but they might very well panic, scatter, and unintentionally give the alarm that something unusual was afoot.
The guards came stamping along, passed abreast of him, turned to look at him, then turned away again and back to their charges. Blade's breath whistled out in relief so loudly that for a moment he thought the guards must have heard it. Not for the first time, he thanked the Ice Master for conditioning curiosity out of his guards along with so many other «individual» qualities.
He fell in behind the little group and kept pace with them, matching his stride and manner to the guards', all the way to the elevator. They all got in and the door closed behind them, then the lift sank silently into the depths. In the two minutes it took the elevator to drop down to the slave level, neither the guards nor the slaves took any further notice of Blade. As long as he possessed enough of the outward signs of being a guard not to trigger any of their conditioned warnings, he was apparently going to be safe-at least until he went into action. And then the rapidly spreading chaos should hopefully leave the slow, conditioned wits of the guards laboring along far in the rear.
The elevator stopped and the door whispered open. The four slaves trotted dutifully out, the guards now flanking them, Blade following behind. They turned left, toward the slave quarters; Blade turned right, toward the head of the shaft.
He was not entirely certain what he could do to get the Menel to notice him and come up into the stronghold. Dropping in on them-literally-by going down the shaft would be nothing but a swift way of committing suicide, he suspected. They almost certainly would have warning systems or sentries at the bottom, and if anything unexpected came down it, they would probably cut the gravity control off and let it drop. No doubt there were also barriers against bombs, gas, etc.-so if the problem had involved physically attacking them it would have been almost insoluble, apart from the fact that he wanted to inflict as little damage as possible in the process of calling himself to their attention.