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The creature called Kepol cackled.
"This one is too muscular to eat," he said to the guards. "Place him in
restraints so that he can have no exercise, and force-feed him. His liver will
grow large and tender."
A guard bowed. "It shall be done, Lordship. Do you wish to hear him speak?"
The king-creature croaked impatiently. "This pilot is a fool. If a few of the
androids believe we are not men, what harm can be done? Most of them would not
believe such rumors. They have no concept of our world. But let him speak."
"Speak, android!" A booted foot pushed at Falon's ribs. "I've got nothing to
say."
The boot crashed against his mouth, and a brief flash of black-ness struck him
again. He spat a broken tooth.
"Speak!"
"Very well. What the pilot says is true. Others know that you are not men.
They will come soon to kill all of you."
The boot drew back again angrily, but hesitated. For the king-creature was
cackling with senile laughter. The guards joined in politely.
"When will they come, android?" jeered the king.
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"The forest fires will cause them to come at once. They will sweep over your
city and drive you into the sea."
"With knives against machine guns and flamethrowers?" The king glanced at a
guard. "This one bores me. Flog him, then bring me the girl. That will be more
amusing."
Falon felt loops of wire being slipped over his wrists. Then he was jerked
erect, suspended from the ceiling so that his toes scarcely touched the
floor.
"Shall we do nothing about the forest fires, Your Lordship?" a guard asked.
The king sighed. "Oh . . I suppose it would be wise to send a platoon to meet
the savages when they emerge. Our fattening pens need replenishing. And we can
see if there is any truth in what the captive says. I doubt that they suspect
us, but if they do, there is small harm done."
Falon smiled to himself as the first lash cut across his back. He had
accomplished the first step in his mission. A platoon was being sent.
The whip master was an expert. He began at the shoulders and worked stroke by
stroke toward the waist, pausing occasionally to rub his fingers roughly over
the wounds. Falon wailed and tried to faint, but the torture was calculated to
leave him conscious.
From his dais, the king-creature was chortling with dreamy sensuality as he
watched.
"Take him to the man pen," ordered the king when they were finished. "And keep
him away from other androids. He knows things that could prove troublesome."
As Falon was led away, he saw Ea just outside the throne room. She was bound
and naked to the waist. Her eyes hated him si-lently. He shuddered and looked
away. For she was the sacrifice which he had no right to make.
The man pen was nearly deserted, for the soul-men were busy with the
building of the city. Falon was led across a sandy court-yard and
into a small cell, where he was chained to a cot. A guard pressed a hypodermic
into his arm.
"This will make you eat, android," he said with a leer, "and grow weak and
fat."
Falon set his jaw and said nothing. The guard went away, leav-ing him alone in
his cell.
An old man came to stare through the bars. His eyes were widewith the dull
glow of fatalistic acceptance. He was thin and brown, his hands gnarled by the
wear of slave work. He saw Falon's toe-less feet and frowned. "Android!" he
murmured in soft puzzle-ment. "Why did they put you in here?"
Falon's throat worked with emotion. Here was a descendant of his creators.
Man who had gone away as a conqueror and re-turned as a slave.
Nervously Falon met the calm blue-eyed gaze for a moment. But his childhood
training was too strong. Here was Man! Quietly he slipped to his knees and
bowed his head. The man breathed slow surprise.
"Why do you kneel, android? I am but a slave, such as your-self. We are
brothers."
Falon shivered. "You are of the immortal ones!"
"Immortal?" The man shrugged. "We have forgotten our an-cient legends." He
chuckled. "Have your people kept them alive for us?"
Falon nodded humbly. "We have kept for you what we were told to keep,
soul-man. We have waited many centuries."
The man stared toward one of the watchtowers. "If only we had trusted you! If
only we had told you where the weapons were hid-den. But some of the ancients
said that if we gave you too much knowledge, you would 'destroy us when we
tried to return.
Now you have nothing with which to defend yourselves against our new masters."
Falon lifted his head slightly. "Weapons, you say? God-weapons?"
"Yes, they're hidden in vaults beneath the ancient cities. We sent a man to
tell you where to find them. But he probably failed in his mission. Do you
know anything of him? Come, man! Get off your knees!"
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