Kimball Trent gestured at the lights. "Those lights and the mono-wheel
car; they are both somewhat electrical in nature."
The Elder shook his head. "We know how none of the things work that
we use. We find them, and sometimes they do certain things; when they
cease to function, we forget them. None of us have the knowledge to
maintain or repair them."
Kimball Trent nodded. He saw now many things that he had not understood
before. He had seen primitive spears and a car that ran by _atomilect_
power, had seen one man who could read and others to whom reading
was a mystery not to be fathomed by ordinary men. He had seen the
intelligence that gleamed in his captors' eyes, and yet they had
thought him a superman because he had slain one of the Gharrians'
hunting broks with a flame gun.
"I can repair them," he said at last. "But first, I must know how you
live, and the machines upon which you live."
The Elder came lithely to his feet. "We shall show you all," he said,
faint hope flickering in his voice. "You will find conditions much
changed from those you knew." He smiled. "Later, you shall tell us of
your world."
He led the way into the tunnel, sent a guard for Trent's weapons.
Kimball Trent fitted them onto his shoulder and hip again, then strode
down the tunnel at the side of his two guides.
"You spoke of breeding stations," he said as they walked. "What did you
mean?"
Muscles knotted in Valur's jaws. "They _are_ breeding stations," he
said. "For almost five centuries the Gharrians have forced Earth to
supply slaves for them. Great depots are made into slave camps, and the
children born are carried in the crimson ships into space. We never see
them again."
* * * * *
There was hate in Kimball Trent again, the surging twisting of
emotions that had driven him in the days he had fought the monsters
from infinity. It had lain dormant the last few days, stifled by his
thoughts of the centuries he had slept, smothered by his fear that the
world was dead and he alive. Now, knowing the way in which men lived on
their planet, the hate came alive again, and he could feel the muscles
of his body swelling against his harness.
"And nothing can be done?" he asked.
"Nothing!" Valur shook his head. "The Masters cannot be slain, and they
hunt us like animals with their broks. We try now only to stay alive,
praying for a miracle." His eyes swung to Trent. "It may be that _you_
are that miracle."
Kimball Trent flushed, feeling helpless and naked and impotent. "We
fought," he said, "and our weapons were of no avail. The men who might
have devised new weapons are all dead, and I do not have the knowledge
for manufacturing along new lines of thought."
The Elder's voice was gentle. "We shall win," he said. "We shall win
eventually, for men were never meant to crawl as animals." His voice
changed. "We shall call you 'Trent'," he finished, "and say that you
are a Barb from Connet, for my people will not believe the tale you
tell. Or if they did believe, they might think you a superman, and that
would not be good."
The light of an entrance ahead came into view as they rounded a corner
in the tunnel. They could hear voices; and the odors of cooking came on
the faint breeze. Trent shivered suddenly. This was not the way that
he thought the world would be. Never in even his wildest dreams had he
thought Earth could be conquered. Now it was so, and the future was
a hopeless thing, Earthmen fighting with feather-weapons against the
invulnerable armor of the Gharrians.
They stepped from the tunnel, and Lura joined them from where she stood
with Korm and another man. Her gaze was level and inscrutable as she
studied Trent's face.
"Did he lie?" she asked.
"He spoke the truth," the Elder said evenly.
Lura smiled then, and the warmth of her smile was like the soothing
fingers of a Summer breeze stroking Trent's features.
"I am glad," she said simply. "One who faces a Master and his brok
should be one of us." She beckoned to Korm. "You fought once; now meet
as friends."
Korm grinned, held out his hand. "My sister told me of how you saved
her; I am your friend." He tensed the muscles of his proud neck, winced
instinctively. "Some time you must show me that fighting trick; never
before have I been bested in battle."
"Any time," Kimball Trent said.
"Come," Valur said. "Light talk shall wait until later."
Kimball Trent turned to follow his guides, conscious of the slim girl
at his side, wondering how any woman could be so fearlessly reliant
and so feminine at the same time. He glanced at the blond giant, saw
the knowing look that came to the grey eyes when they went from him to
Lura, and hotness flooded upward from his throat.
He turned his attention to the Elder. "What first?" he asked. "My
people," the Elder said simply.
Together, they began their tour.