He watched the man narrowly. The fellow was in the act of suppressing a yawn as Kana first studied him. It was plain that he did not expect trouble from the prisoner. And this was no proper detention room, rather more like a waiting lounge for low-ranking visitors. The bench Kana had been ordered to occupy was cushioned and there was a visa-plate set in the wall to his left, out of sight range of the doorway. The guard's attention was often attracted by those passing without Kana's eyes flickered to the visa-plate. Was there some way of using that? A little improvising He waited until the guard's attention was fixed upon something in the corridor and then he jumped to his feet.
"Red alert!" he cried out as if startled.
The guard whirled, took one step in, glancing at the visa-plate.
"I don't see anything — " he began, and then shot a sour look at Kana as if angry at being tricked into speaking to the captive against express orders.
"It was red alert!" Kana insisted, pointing to the screen.
The guard came all the way in, uneasily. If the visa-plate had flashed a red signal — then his duty was clear, he must call back at once for instructions. And he couldn't be sure that it had not.
"Keep me covered with your blaster," urged Kana. "I tell you it was a red alert!"
The guard drew his blaster, aiming it at the recruit's middle. And, with his back to the wall, his eyes on the prisoner, he made a crabwise march along toward the visa-plate.
"You sit down!" he snapped at Kana.
The recruit dropped down on the bench, but his body was tense, his muscles ready —
There would come a single second when the guard had to turn half away from him in order to push the question button below the plate. And if he could move then —
It came, the guard's head turned a fraction. Kana flung himself forward almost at floor level. His shoulders struck just behind the other's knees and there was a dull crack as the man's head struck against the screen, slammed into it by the force of Kana's attack. The recruit twisted on top, ready to carry on the fight. But the body beneath him was limp.
A little startled by such phenomenal luck — the fellow must have been knocked out when his head hit the screen — Kana got to his knees and hurriedly appropriated the guard's sword and blaster. But a moment later he reluctantly abandoned the gun. Only a base guardsman could go so armed and he would be picked up on the street if he were seen carrying that. He sheathed the sword — and hoped that luck would continue to ride with him.
The prostrate guard, bound with his own belts and gagged with a thick strip torn from his undershirt, was rolled back under the bench, well out of range of any casual glance from the door. Then Kana settled his clothing, donned the helmet he had lost during the brief struggle, and taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the corridor, closing the door of the waiting room behind him. He might have five minutes — perhaps more — before the hunt would be on. And now that he was again wearing a sword there was nothing to distinguish him from any other of the hundreds of Archs on the streets of Prime.
The streets of Prime — the sooner he got away from those same streets the better. This escape was all pure improvisation and it might work all the more effectively because of that, but he wanted to get away from Prime as quickly as he could. He covered the remainder of the corridor with the brisk strides of a man on an official errand and came out of the building on a 'copter landing some twenty floors above ground level. One of the dragonfly machines had just deposited a veteran and was about to rise when Kana waved. The pilot waited for him impatiently.
"Where to?"
It was a pity he did not know more of the geography of the city. But he was sure that it would do little good to approach the space port or any of the transcontinent air ports — those were well guarded and the alarm would be flashed to them the moment his escape was detected. A little rattled by the pilot's demand he gave as his destination the only place in the city where he had been before.
"The Hiring Hall."
They arose and drifted west while Kana attempted to identify points below. Would escape by water be possible? There were only five surface roads out of Prime and each passed a patrolled barrier where vehicles were searched for smuggled goods.
"Here y'are."
The 'copter came to rest on a Hiring Hall staging. Kana gave curt thanks and took the lift down, heading not to the hall itself nor to any of the levels where the enlistment officers had their cubbys, but straight to the one place he thought would offer not only concealment for a space, but help in planning his next move.
The record room was as quiet as it had been the first time he had stepped within its sound-proof doors. One booth near the entrance displayed the light which signified occupancy, but the rest were dark. Kana punched for four paks in rapid succession, and with them retreated to the booth at the far end of the row. Feeding his paks into the machine he settled back in the reclining chair.
Three-quarters of an hour later the last pak had spun to its conclusion. So — now he possessed two possible answers to his dilemma. He removed the head piece but did not leave the seat. Well, at least he was given a choice. On impulse he went to the door of the booth to survey the room. The light on the other booth had gone out. But now there were three others in use. Was that suspicious? Did it show an unusual amount of study for one interval? Or was some big expedition being planned?
He could not see any way that they might have traced him here. The logical move for any escape would be to get out of Prime with the least possible delay. Certainly they would not expect to find him using record-paks in the Hiring Hall archives.
Two ways — his mind returned to the problem as he settled down in the booth to stare unseeingly at the ceiling and try to plan. The sea way — he was able to swim though he had not had much practice lately. And the underground ways built by the Old Ones. Would the Combat police believe that having been captured down there he would be reluctant to try the maze of passages for a second time?
He was hungry. The carefully balanced prison diet had not been intended to build up any store of energy. And he didn't quite dare to enter the transient mess here, could not in fact without displaying the armlet which would betray him at once. First things first — let him get out of Prime and then he could worry about food. Out of Prime — the two choices were still before him.
And sitting here was not speeding him on his way. He had absorbed all the information the record-paks held. It was time to go. And in a snap second Kana made his decision.
The oldest building in modern Prime was the Histo-laboratory Museum. Since history was not a subject popular with the general public on Terra, the building was never crowded. But, according to one of the paks Kana had just consulted, it had been erected on the foundations of a prewar structure. And so it might provide an entrance to the ancient underground ways said to feed all buildings of that era — a thousand-to-one chance. But he had been trained to consider such chances.
Kana gathered up the paks and left the booth. Three others were still occupied and he hurried past their doors. He returned the paks and went out, concentrating on presenting an unhurried, casual demeanor. Luckily the building he sought was not more than three blocks away and his uniform would render him anonymous on the streets.
As he went down the four wide steps to the pavement he was aware of a clatter behind him. Someone in a hurry. He quickened his pace and caught his thumb in his belt not too far from the hilt of his sword. If he were cornered now he would fight. Better be cooked at once in a blaster flame than live in a labor camp for life.