When this had been well established I planted my poles and did a reverse turn that would have had my instructors glowing with pride. Up, over and down into the track of the other car ski. Landing cleanly in its track. Then sliding off in the opposite direction, no poles to leave marks, just kicking along well past the point where our tracks had merged.
After this I just kept on until the snow was covering the cars’ tracks. It would cover mine too—and probably the earlier tracks. But if they did follow and see them they would have false lead. Me, I was heading back to the city and safety.
They weren’t early risers on Kekkonshiki, I’ll say that much for them. A few were out, I saw other figures slipping by on skis, but I don’t think any of them saw me. Nor did there seem to be any alarm. I reached the edge of the buildings on the far side of the spaceport and there still didn’t seem to be anything busy happening. What next? I didn’t want to break back in until the chase had gone out the other side. There seemed to be no sign that this was happening as yet. A light in a window beckoned warmly and I slipped over and looked in. A kitchen. Stoves merrily aglow and the cook getting things ready. It looked too good to resist. It was even harder to resist when the round- bottomed and apparently epicene cook turned toward the window and proved to be a female of the species. I had not talked to a female Kekkonshiki yet and the opportunity was too good to resist. Angelina was always accusing me of going after other girls and I should at least give her some sound basis for her suspicions. Even though this visit would negate all of my efforts in false-trail laying and necessitate another effort at misdirection—I still could not resist the temptation. Thus has it been ever with man and maid down through the ages. I found the door, took off my skis, stood them in the snow next to it, and went in.
“Good morning,” I said. “Looks like another cold day, doesn’t it.”
She turned to look at me in silence. Young, wide-eyed and not too unattractive in an unpainted, pastoral sort of way. “You are the one they are looking for,” she said, with just a hint of emotion creeping into her voice. “I must go and give the alarm.”
“You will not give the alarm.” I leaned forward, ready to stop her.
“Yes, master,” she said, and turned back to her pots and pans.
Master! I mulled this a bit and realized that the Kekkonshiki must be the Male Chauvinist Pigs of all time. They treated each other with coldness, lack of emotion, conscious and unconscious cruelty. How must they treat the women! Like this. As chattels, slaves probably. If any of them had protested in the past they had probably been booted out into the snow. A race of docile servants is what the men must have wanted and, obviously, after centuries of breeding they had achieved this noble goal.
My mind was torn away from philosophical speculation by the rich smells from the pots on the stove. It had been far too long since I had eaten last and, after all the exercise, I realized that hunger was nibbling at my interior with sharp teeth. In the rush of events I had again forgotten about food. Now my stomach was making up for this neglect with warning rumbles and groaning sounds.
“What’s cooking, my fair flower of Kekkonshiki?”
She kept her eyes lowered and pointed out cooking utensils one by one, slowly and carefully. “In here is boiling water. In here is fish stew. In here are fish dumplings. In here is seaweed sauce. In here…”
“That’s fine. I’ve heard enough. I’ll have a portion of each, except for the boiling water that is.”
She ladled some metal bowls full and I tucked in with a curved bone spoon. It was pretty tasteless stuff but I was not complaining. I even managed to eat the entire amount a second time before slowing down. As I slurped and shoveled I watched her closely, but she made no attempt to escape or give a warning.
“My name is Jim,” I said, burping with appreciation. “What’s yours?”
“Kaeru.”
“Fine meal, Kaeru. A little bit light on the seasoning, but that’s not your fault—it’s the cuisine of the land. Are you happy in this job?”
“I do not know that word, ‘happy.’ “
“I’ll bet you don’t. What kind of hours do you work here?”
“I do not understand what you mean. I get up, I work, I go to bed. All days are like this.”
“No weekends or holidays either I am sure. This world dearly needs some changes and they are on the way.” Kaeru turned back to her work. “This culture won’t have to be busted. It will just fall apart. The historians will keep a record of it and then it will vanish and a touch of civilization will enter your lives. Look forward to a happy tomorrow, Kaeru.”
“Tomorrow I will work like today.”
“Not for too long, I hope.” With a delicate pinky nail I probed for a bit of seaweed stuck in the interstices of my teeth. “What time do you serve breakfast?”
She looked up at the clock. “In a few minutes when the bell rings.”
“Who eats it?’
“The men here. The soldiers.”
I was off the chair before the last syllable dropped from her lips, pulling on my gloves. “The food has been great, but I’m afraid I have to be pushing on. Heading south, you know. Got to make some time before the sun comes up. I suppose you wouldn’t complain too much if I tied you up?”
“Do with me what you will, master.” Her eyes were lowered when she said it. For the first time in my life I was ashamed of being a male chauvinist pig. “It will be better someday soon, Kaeru, I promise you that. And if I ever get out of this with a whole skin I’ll send you a relief parcel. Some dresses, lipstick, and a textbook on fem lib. Now—is there a storeroom here?”
She pointed it out and I kissed her on the forehead. She immediately started to take her clothes off and was surprised when I stopped her. I could readily imagine what romantic lovers the gray men were! One more crime to answer for. Kaeru made no protests at all when I ushered her into the storeroom and locked it from the outside. She would be discovered soon enough when breakfast was late. But all I needed was a few minutes’ headstart.
After leaving I carried the skis until I came to an icy stretch where my prints did not show. Only then did I put them on and head off in the opposite direction, muddling my trail again when I crossed other ski tracks. There was a good deal more of this sort of thing before I found myself back at the spaceport and, once more, cutting my way through the fence. I could hear sounds of excitement, sirens going and engines starting up which seemed to indicate that my earlier visit had been discovered at last. And about time too; I had to stifle a yawn. And wasn’t the sky beginning to get a bit lighter? The hour had come to retire. I resealed the fence and slogged on.
With very little effort I reached the armory unseen. The man I had left in the doorway was gone, as well as everyone else from the vicinity. The lock yielded to my attentions and I breezed through and sealed it behind me. Well done, Jim, you tricky devil. With leaden feet I toured the interior, finally finding a locked room of fragmentation grenades that should be untouched for awhile. In and down behind them, hidden from the world, secure and gone to ground, I yielded at once to the lure of sleep.
It was wonderful. I felt that I could have slept forever. Except something was disturbing me. I swam back up to consciousness and saw that it was daylight. Was that what had woken me?
No, it was a key turning in the lock, the door creaking open.
I had only myself to blame. I had forgotten the plodding searchers in the school. These people could not be tricked by any kind of ruse. As soon as they knew I was still alive they simply started a search of every building in the city. The game was up.
I was refreshed by the long sleep, my bloodstream was filled with rich fish protein—and I was very angry at myself for not making a better attempt at hiding out. But, like the rest of us, I would rather be angry at someone else rather than admit the fault was mine, so I instantly transferred my temper to the hapless man who came through the door, waiting until he came close, then springing upon him like a jungle animal. Then tripping over the skis which I had forgotten about and falling in a tumble at his feet. Not that this made much difference to the outcome since these people had no idea at all about infighting. It was the old twist and crunch once again. After which I shouldered the skis, stepped over the unconscious body, and peeked out of the door. More of them were
