EIGHT

The room would have been nearly a cube except for the fact that hardly

any parallel lines appeared in its design. The corners were rounded and

the ceiling slightly arched. The floor, though much of it was obscured

by a plentiful supply of cushions, was obviously several inches higher

in the center than where it curved up to meet the walls. All surfaces

were the color of old ivory but seemed to be of a more porous material.

The cushions could have been cut from slabs of some foamy, resilient

substance that had been manufactured in several rather dull colors.

On two of the larger cushions placed end to end, lay a blond man, long

and lean. He wore a dark gray coverall that was loose as if he had lost

weight. His features had a poor color, a golden tan with something

unhealthy underlying it. He was, however, clean and recently shaven,

and his hair was cut short, if somewhat raggedly. He stirred, then

blinked into the soft light of an elliptical fixture recessed into the

ceiling.

With a smothered groan, he came completely awake. Very carefully, as

if from long habit of avoiding painful movement, he rolled to his left

side and braced one hand against the floor. The effort of sitting up

made him bare his clenched teeth.

The grimace was fleeting. He seemed to have some purpose that drove

him on to roll completely off the makeshift bed until he knelt with

both knees and his left hand on the smooth floor. As he paused to rest,

he held his right hand close to his body.

After a moment, he brought his right foot up opposite his left knee.

Another rest period, on hand, knee, and foot, was required before

he shoved himself away from the floor and slowly stood upright. The

ceiling suddenly looked too low.

He was tall, perhaps two inches over six feet. His features were

regular without being especially handsome. A man sizing him up might

have expected him to weigh about a hundred and ninety pounds, but

slight hollows in his cheeks suggested that this would not be true at

the moment. His eyes were blue, but the lids drooped and he seemed to

focus only vaguely upon his surroundings.

At length, the man turned and walked deliberately to the side of the

room where a doorless opening offered egress into what looked like a

corridor. The opening was in the shape of an ellipse about five feet

high and three wide, beginning a few inches above the floor. He bent to

thrust his head into the hall, peering in both directions but taking no

heed of faint, scurrying sounds out there. Satisfied, he walked back to

his bed, turned over a cushion with his toe, and kicked a small utility

bag of gray plastic out into the open.

The man stared at the bag for some minutes before reaching an evidently

unwelcome decision. Laboriously, then, he knelt until he could slide

one end under a knee and slide open the zipper with his left hand.

He pawed out a few items--battery shaver, towel, deck of cards,

toothbrush--which he left scattered on the floor as soon as he located

the object of his search. This was a many-jointed mechanism of metal

that resembled an armored centipede. It was as long as his hand and

nearly as broad. He held it in his palm as if wondering what to do with

it.

Some slow process of judgment having blossomed in his mind, he turned

over the object to press a small stud. The plates of the "belly"

parted. From a recess there, he fumbled out a miniature accessory

that fitted easily in the palm of his hand. This was round, about an

inch thick, and might have been made of black plastic. The man's lips

twitched in a tired smile as he hefted it pensively.

Without moving from his kneeling position, he thumbed a nearly

concealed switch on the edge of the disk. Within seconds, the thing

began to put forth music, a diminutive reproduction of the sound of a

full orchestra. The man gradually raised his hand until he held the

little player to his ear. His expression remained uncomprehending. He

lowered his hand, shrugging slightly, and turned off the music.

Once more, he forced himself laboriously to his feet. Leaving his other

belongings on the floor without a backward glance, he strode to the

door with the pace of a man who has just walked five or ten miles. His

long legs carried him across the distance in only a few steps, but

there was a slowness, a heaviness, in their motion that revealed a deep

weariness. He raised one foot just high enough to step through the

opening into the corridor.

Outside, he turned left and walked along at the same pace, passing

several other doors at irregular intervals. That they may have led to

other rooms with other occupants seemed to interest him not at all.

He neither glanced aside nor paused until he came face to face with a

barrier, a wall blocking his path.

It was the first doorway that sported a door, and the latter was

closed. It looked to be made of a plastic substance, darker than the

ivory walls among which he had thus far moved, but smoother. There was

a grilled opening more or less centered, but no other markings.

Nevertheless, the blond man seemed to know where the portal would be

fastened. He ran the tips of his fingers along one curved side, as if

judging a distance. Juggling the black disk in his hand until the grip

suited him better, he pressed a second switch, which was concealed at

the center of the object.

A thin jet of flame, so white that it far outshone the lighting of the

corridor, flared against the edge of the door. He moved the flame along

the edge for about two feet. Then he snapped it out and waited with his

eyes blinking painfully. The corridor lighting had been revealed to be

yellow and dim.

Having rested, the man took a deep breath and shoved with his left

shoulder against the elliptical door. It slipped off whatever had been

holding it at the opposite edge and fell into the hallway beyond the

bulkhead. He had neatly cut through two hinges on the other side.

Without looking back, he stepped over the loose door and continued on

his way. Eventually, he came to another such barrier, and he dealt with

it in the same fashion. The third time he was halted, he found himself

at a vertical column which passed down through an oval opening in the

ceiling and disappeared through another in the floor of the corridor.

The man hesitated. A vague sadness flitted across his features. Then,

as if driven by some deep purpose, he approached the column.

It was about six inches in diameter, and the most regular shape he

had encountered anywhere. The surface of it was ringed by horizontal

grooves nearly an inch deep, and looked as if it would be easy to

climb. From the hole below, there rose slightly warmer air, bearing a

blend of pungent and musty odors. The man's nostrils wrinkled.

He stepped to the edge of the opening, then sidled around until he had

the greatest possible space on his side of the column. The instrument

in his hand finally came to his attention as he reached out to touch

the grooved surface. He considered it for a long moment. Apparently,

he was pleased at the brilliance of the thought that eventually moved

him to thrust the thing into a pocket of his pants. He faced the

column again, and again hesitated. His right hand lifted an inch,

indecisively, following which a snarl of pain twisted his lips.

Sidling around the opening once more until he found himself having

completed a circuit, he let the fingers of his left hand explore the

grooves. It did not seem to occur to him to look either down or up,

although faint, distant sounds were borne to him on the current of

odoriferous air.

In the end, he leaned forward until his left shoulder came against the

slim column. He wrapped his left arm about it. A little scrambling,

and he had gripped it between his legs. Then a slight relaxation of

his hold permitted him to slide gradually downward until he slipped

past the floor line. There were only a few inches to spare between his

shoulders and the edge of the opening, as if the latter had not been

designed for such as he.

The next level into which he descended was dark. He continued to slide

cautiously downward.

At the second level below his starting point, there was light. The

corridor resembled that in which he had begun his journey. He put out

one foot to catch the edge of the opening while he rested.

This hallway curved not far from the man in one direction, although the

other side ran straight for about twenty feet before being closed off

by a door similar to the one he had removed. Around the bend floated

faint noises suggesting high-pitched conversation, although they came

from too far away to reveal the nature of their origin. The tall man

kept one eye cocked warily in that direction.

After a few minutes, certain sounds seemed to draw nearer. The

cluttering "talk" faded, but he could hear more plainly a hushed

scuffling that could have been caused by many feet taking short,

hurried steps.

The man released his foothold and slid smoothly below the floor

level just as moving shadows appeared at the bend of the corridor. He

dropped down the column through four more unlighted levels, reaching an

atmosphere that held a blend of machine oil along with its other odors.

Light filtered upward with the air currents. Somewhere below was a very

bright level, whence came the rhythmic throb of heavy machinery. This

did not resemble the sounds of a spaceship, nor yet a Terran factory,

but some considerable work was being carried on. He groped out in the

darkness for a foothold, got the other foot over, and wearily pushed

himself away from the column.

He was on a level so dim that he touched the edge of the floor opening

with his toe to make sure of its location before moving off along the

corridor.

In the darkness, he went more slowly than before, but made better

time than looked possible. Under the circumstances, he reassured

himself by stretching out his left hand every few seconds to touch the

smooth wall. He walked normally, though not noisily, and his sense of

direction was extraordinarily good.

About a hundred yards along a corridor that seemed not to have a single

bend or corner, he slowed his pace doubtfully. A few steps more brought

him to another closed door. This one, however, yielded to his shove,

swinging back to reveal a stretch of tunnel with a bare minimum of

illumination oozing from widely spaced ceiling fixtures. Here, he could

sense side doorways his fingers had usually missed along the darker

stretch.

He had gone another hundred yards and finally passed two cross

corridors, before he was again obliged to stop and rest. He slumped

against the side wall, favoring his right arm and gazing dully before

him.

A few steps further along was one of the typical elliptical doorways.

Through this one, some light was reflected to the wall of the corridor.

The man stared at it in the way anyone in the dark will turn his eye to

light. After several minutes, he moved toward it as if impelled by idle

curiosity.

Reaching the opening, he hesitated. A strange expression flickered over

his face. The decision to look or not to look was causing him great

uneasiness. Finally, he stepped forward and entered a small chamber.

This was evidently located so as to house another slim column that

disappeared upward and downward into unknown levels. Several small,

oval windows were set just below the ceiling, at a height which

presented no particular difficulty to the man when he stepped over to

look through them.

The scene that met his eye was a wide corridor, so wide that it might

be termed a concourse or even a public square. Members of the public

that were to be observed frequenting it were very, very far from being

human.

Two of them scurried past his window, clearly illuminated by lights far

up in the domed ceiling. They were furry, about five feet tall, lithe

and cat-like in their movements. Compared to a human, they were slim

and short-bodied. They possessed three arms and three legs, each set

being equally spaced about their bodies. Now and then, as they walked

with short, rapid steps, frequent joints were apparent in all limbs,

showing clearly that they were not just muscular tentacles. From the

openings at the apexes of their heads, which must have been mouths,

they were streamlined in a fashion that made it more natural to picture

them swimming like Terran cuttlefish then climbing up and down thick

poles. The three eyes set about each head were low enough to allow for

jaw muscles.

The man watched this pair slide down a column set beside the wall

that concealed him. Other individuals were scattered about the wide

concourse. Almost without exception, they wore nothing more than a

pouch secured by a belt just above what would have been the hips in

a human. Clothing was made unnecessary by handsome coats of short,

honey-colored fur that enhanced their feline air. Sometimes, when one

or another bent or twisted, purple skin would show through the fur.

Across the concourse, the man could see open stalls that suggested

shops. Most of them were dark inside, with nettings stretched across

the fronts. The general atmosphere was not unlike that of a small

Terran business section, or even a spaceport terminal, late in the

evening with business slack and only night workers about.

Abruptly, those abroad scuttled for the walls. A perfectly good reason

for the exodus appeared a moment later, as a column of low, long

vehicles dashed from a high-arched tunnel and shot across the open

space. Each was three-wheeled and carried half a dozen individuals

wearing what resembled thick plastic armor. Cages of metal guarded

their heads and they bore weapons like Terran rocket launchers. The

convoy passed out of sight before the man could note more.

He retreated thoughtfully from the window. At the opening to the

corridor, he paused indecisively. He shook his head as if trying to put

out of his mind what he had just witnessed.

It might have been prudent for anyone in his position to give the

corridor a searching look before entering, but this did not seem

to occur to him. In seconds, he was striding along in the former

direction--if anything, a trifle more briskly.

As he walked, the muffled sounds from the scene he had examined faded

in the distance. Once again, he was alone with his own discreet

footfalls. Several times, he passed junctions of cross corridors, and

once he had to burn open a door; but never did he meet an inhabitant

of the hive-like city. Either the way had been shrewdly chosen or it

was seldom used at this period of the day. Even granting both, his luck

must have been fantastic.

The corridor had begun to assume an almost hypnotic monotony when it

ended bluntly at a column leading only upward. The man perforce was

faced with the challenge of climbing it, a prospect which he obviously

did not relish.

Sighing, he reversed his earlier procedure in sliding down other poles.

With only one good arm, pulling himself up was slow work. It was,

perhaps, only the fact that the levels were constructed to suit beings

five feet tall that made it possible for him to make it to the next

level up. He sat with his legs dangling through the opening, panting,

while perspiration oozed out to bead his forehead.

This time, he was nearly half an hour in recovering and working up

the determination required to go on. The corridor in which he found

himself ran at right angles to the one below. It was wider and higher,

as if more traveled, but any such open area as he had peeped at was far

to the rear. Nearby, however, was a much larger door than he had yet

encountered. He walked over to it.

When a tentative push produced no results, he dipped his left hand into

a pocket for the black disk.

He seemed to have a good idea of where to locate the hinges on this

door too. When he had burned through, the door was harder to shove

aside because it turned out to be of double thickness. The hinges had

been concealed from both inside and outside. The tall man now found

himself only a few steps from another such portal, in what looked like

an anteroom.

Methodically, he proceeded to burn his way through, squinting in the

bright light of the flame but otherwise betraying no emotion.

The last door fell away. Fresh air billowed in around him, and he could

see stars in a night sky outside.

Without haste, he stepped outside.

The tan, plastery wall reared above him for about ten levels. Off

to his left, shadows on the ground showed a jagged shape, so it was

probable that another part of the building towered upward after a

set-back. The ground around the exit was perfectly level and bare of

any vegetation. The nearest life was a wall of shrub-like trees about a

hundred feet away, and toward these the man began to walk in the same

tired pace.

He found, as if by instinct, a broad, well-kept path through the trees.

A mild breeze caused the long, hanging leaves to rustle. Without

looking back, the man followed the path up a gentle slope and over the

curve of the hill. At the bottom of the downgrade, two figures shrank

suddenly back into the shadows. He kept walking.

"That you, Gerson?" came a loud whisper, as the two Terrans stepped

forward again. "Come on; we have an aircar over here! Did anyone follow

you?"

The tall man turned to go with them through a fringe of trees. It

seemed like a poor time to try to talk, with the possibility of pursuit

behind them. The two bundled him into the black shape of the aircar

in silence, and moved it cautiously through the trees just above the

ground. They raised into clear air only when they had put half a mile

between them and the towering hive-city.