The Chieftan

CHAPTER 12

The Alaria, as we may recall, was far from the customary lanes of commerce and traffic. We may speculate that her earlier orbiting at Tinos had something to do with taking aboard the young naval officer, who had had business on that world, it perhaps having to do with negotiations of a sort, that world serving sometimes as a neutral ground, a meeting place, between various barbarian nations in that area and the empire. Similarly, there were, here and there, trading worlds, or ports thereon, where commercial transactions, and various forms of intercourse and communication, between diverse, perhaps mutually suspicious worlds, could take place. The use of such points and worlds was to reduce the possibilities of espionage, terrorism, sabotage, contagion, and such. Too, it was at Tinos that the barbarian, Ortog, a prisoner, had been brought aboard. It is possible that he was given into the custody of the empire as some token of good faith, as a pledge of some sort. Later, however, as we may recall, contact had been lost with Tinos, or, at least, Tinos station, the small imperial base on Tinos. What had occurred was that the barbarian fleet, that of the Ortungs, or Ortungen, those ships loyal to Ortog, hearing of his capture, and his conveyance to Tinos, had set out in pursuit. It had been learned at Tinos station, from several imperial officials, subjected to lengthy tortures, best left undescribed, that Ortog had been taken aboard the Alaria. The officials had also, at last, under severe duress, provided the Ortungen with access to the charting codes which enabled them to establish the itinerary, and probable course, of the Alaria.

We shall briefly sketch the events of the next four days. The Alaria, which was not purely a pleasure ship, as you may have suspected, gave a rather good account of herself, considering her speed, maneuverability and armament. One of the seven pursuing ships was destroyed, and another seriously damaged. Still, after the first moments, after the closing, which took place at a distance of some twenty-five hundred miles, the issue could not be seriously in doubt. The Alaria, twisted, scorched, portions of the upper decking lost, the hull opened, lighting dimmed, life-support systems out in many sections, spun slowly in space, powerless.

In four places hollow “moles,” the boarding tubes, drilled into the hull, and then, just as the plating, in its gigantic burned circle, better than ten feet in diameter, was snapped free, torrents of fire burst inward, shearing away any possible resistance, melting even the lighter steel of the opposing walls, those lining corridors opposite the mole. Through these apertures then, hurrying through, rushing over the steaming steel, through that large glowing opening from which molten globules still descended, blasting left and right, poured armored warriors, Ortungen.

There was resistance, of course, within the ship, but it was scattered, pathetic and doomed. On the first day the Ortungen established control of the middle decks, this dividing the defenders. On the second day they seized the commissaries, and the arsenal, which, in any event, had been available only to a small number of defenders. There was some fighting with crew members, from cabin to cabin, and corridor to corridor, but the passengers were, on the whole, in accord with imperial policies, not armed. Little quarter was given. Crew members were, on the whole, killed. Many prisoners were taken. These were stripped, and sorted through. Most were killed. The strongest, healthiest men tended to be spared, and the most attractive of the women. The male prisoners were then separated from the female prisoners and both were conducted through the moles to the barbarian ships, where they were placed in separate steel holds. They would be kept for slaves. There were many uses, heavy labor, work in the fields, and such, to which male slaves might be put, and there were, of course, many uses to which female slaves might be put, as well.

On the third day the Ortungen secured access to central engineering, which gave them selective control, among other things, of all lighting, heating and life-support systems which were not self-contained, and designed for functioning on a temporary, emergency basis. Soon, one by one, overcome by darkness and cold, coughing, gasping for breath, the tiny pockets of resistance succumbed. They then emerged, as commanded, the men standing, their hands clasped on their heads, the women crawling, to be taken into custody. Again, the fates of these were decided, as had been that of their predecessors.

Not all the passengers, and such, of course, fell to the barbarians.

There were, naturally, many escape capsules, or lifeboats, on the Alaria. Some, we might recall, had been stored even in Section 19, of the hold.

After the initial hit on the Alaria, one of several, the officer of the court, buffeted, and squirming, fighting with other passengers, had fled from Section 19, thinking of nothing else, in her terror, as many of the others, but of reaching her own cabin, as though there might be some safety there. She did reach it, through a bedlam of cries, of tearing metal, of warning klaxons and such, and locked herself within. After a few hours the light went out in the cabin, some cables doubtless cut somewhere. A little later she tried the lever in the washbasin, and found there was no water.

Huddling inside the cabin, behind the steel door, she occasionally heard cries outside, and running feet. More than once she heard the hiss of a weapon.

On the second day she heard pounding on cabin doors farther down the corridor, and harsh voices, ordering occupants to come forth, men standing, their hands clasped on their head, women on all fours.

She heard a scream from outside, a woman’s scream. She also heard a blow, perhaps a kick, and a cry of pain.

“Strip her,” she heard.

“A pretty one,” said a man’s voice, after a moment.

The officer of the court, incidentally, at this point, no longer wore the bulky “frame-and-curtain,” and she herself had unclasped it, fearfully, almost of necessity, in the press, in the rush and buffeting to escape from the hold, lest she be turned about by it, or even strangled in its confinement, and, in a moment, it had been torn away from her, lost and trampled somewhere below. She did, however, continue to wear the cumbersome, drab “same garb,” and, beneath it, of course, certain other garments, those of a sort which she would never have dared to show to one such as Tuvo Ausonius. He would never accept such garments on a free woman, only, if at all, on a slave. Indeed, he might command them of a slave.

“They will keep her,” said the first man.

The officer of the court wondered if she herself, under such circumstances, would be kept, if she would be found pleasing enough to be kept. She hoped so, desperately.

“Crawl, to the end of the corridor, hurry!” commanded the second man.

She heard weeping.

“Hurry!” she heard, and another cry of pain.

“Would they keep me?” wondered the officer of the court. “Would I be pleasing enough to be kept? Oh, I hope so. I hope so!”

Then, in a moment, she heard pounding on her own door, ordering that it be opened, and that men were to come forth in one fashion, and women in another.

She drew back from the door, terrified.

The door was tried.

“Bring the spike,” she heard.

She heard something being put against the door, pressed against it. Then there was a sudden whirring sound, as of metal being shaved away. She then heard something drawn back, out of the door. She then heard another sound, as of something forced into an aperture. Faint, frightened, crouching by the door in the darkness, she reached out and felt it, something like a small conical nozzle. Then, in an instant, she heard a hiss of gas. She fled back into the cabin and behind the bed, and knelt there, terrified, distraught, hearing the gas entering the cabin. Then, knowing nothing else to do, terrified, she pressed herself beneath the bed, concealing herself there. There was very little room there, no more than in some devices for the confinement of slaves, some even, barred, beneath the master’s bed, in which a slave might be kept, until she was wanted for serving. More importantly the space was small enough not to seem to afford an obvious hiding place. The officer of the court, moreover, as we remember, was a slender young woman, and such might be kept in spaces even smaller. For example, magicians have used such women for certain “vanishing tricks,” in which the woman occupies a very small space, one so small that it occurs to few that that space, perhaps at the bottom of a trunk, could afford a concealment.

She fought to retain consciousness.

She heard the door break in.

A light flashed about, in the room.

“It is empty,” said a voice.

“Look about,” said a voice. “Look in the closets, in the lavatory.”

The officer of the court, naturally, had no mask. She could feel the harsh nap of the rug against her left cheek as she lay, her head toward the door. She saw the boots of a man, or the borders of them, illuminated for a moment, in the light.

“Look under the bed,” said a man.

Her fingers, in misery, cut at the rug.

“There is no room there,” said a man.

“Look,” said the other.

She saw the light flash, the beam illuminating the gas in the room, under the side of the bed, that farthest from where she lay, that which was nearest the cabin door.

“There is nothing there,” said a voice.

It was possible he might have gone to the other side of the bed, or conducted a more thorough investigation, but, perhaps thinking it fruitless, he did not do so.

Too, just then a voice called from outside, in the corridor, and the two men exited the room.

She had then lost consciousness.

She had awakened a few hours later, sick, thirsting, and terribly hungry.

She crawled to the basin and again tried the lever, but, again there was no water. She then went to the lavatory bowl, willing to avail herself of even this source, as might have a thirsting slave, but found to her dismay that it was dry. It had been drained, and, of course, could not be replenished. Men, or slaves, had come later to the cabins, checking them, to make certain that even such sources would not be available to the defenders. The doors, too, had been set awry on their hinges so they could not be locked, or even closed. That had presumably been done by men, with tools.

She returned to her place beneath the bed but, in a few hours, miserably, weakly, crawled out.

She went to the dark corridor.

She could still smell a slight fragrance of the gas in the room, behind her, and in the corridor.

There might be some food in the lounge, she thought. Perhaps something in the adjoining serving area, or kitchen, perhaps even scraps, crumbs, on the floor, beneath the table and the chairs. Too, here and there, in the corridors, there were litter vessels, and who knew what might have been cast aside, thoughtlessly, into one, what precious things, perhaps a bit of a roll, or the core of a fruit.

She kept on all fours in the corridor.

Thusly, if light should suddenly be cast upon her, perhaps the strangers, the boarders, might not instantly fire. Was this not the fashion in which they wished civilized women, at least initially, to be before them?

Once away from her cabin area there was a dim lighting in the corridors.

This frightened her, but the corridors seemed empty, empty and very long.

She rose to her feet, but kept close to the walls of the corridors.

At points she noted certain passages, of which she would have liked to avail herself, were sealed, and the pressure gauges indicated a near vacuum behind them. The elevators were doubtless inoperable, and in any case, were to be avoided. But she would not have needed them, in any event, or stairs, to reach the lounge from her cabin, the main floor of the lounge.

She cried out.

There was a body bolted to a bulkhead, to her right. It was in uniform. It was that of the minor officer, he who had sat near her on the evening of the entertainment, he who had conversed with the woman in the pantsuit, the same evening the Alaria had come under attack. The front of his uniform had been drenched with blood, now long dried. He had served as the target, it seemed, in some primitive contest.

In a moment she had come to the large viewing port in the hall, not far from the lounge.

She had looked through this before. It was here that the gladiator had come up behind her, and here that the captain had offered to escort her to her cabin.

Outside she could see, from this vantage point, the outlines of four barbarian ships. The Alaria was illuminated in their search beams. Here and there, there were pieces of debris, floating in space, seemingly suspended there in a calm steadiness and stillness. And then she saw, too, the shattered wrecks, blasted apart, of certain escape capsules, of lifeboats. Such, clearly, had been fired upon. Others had perhaps been blown open but propelled outward into space, then as lifeless as small asteroids. The strangers, the boarders, doubtless had guns ready, set to track and fire on such vessels. A number must have fled the Alaria in the first hours of the attack. She wondered how many might have been successful in their escape, what the crowding would have been. She remembered the press at the door of Section 19, in the hold. She knew nothing of the mechanisms of the lifeboats. Too, she would be terrified to trust herself to such things, so tiny, such frail barks in such vast seas, like lonely motes of steel in the enormous night, so far from commercial lanes, in an area of space scarcely charted.

Perhaps it would be too open, too bold, she thought, to proceed directly to the lounge.

And might they not have it guarded, lest others, like herself, think to find food or drink there?

Perhaps she could approach it, she thought, by means of the upper balcony of the general entertainment hall, which gave access, through a passage, to the lounge’s upper balcony. Then she could look down into the lounge, the main floor, and see if it were safe.

At this point she heard, from the hallway behind her, feminine laughter.

She cast about, wildly, looking for a place to hide.

But there seemed none.

Then, as the voices seemed almost upon her, she crouched down, back, between the lower rim of the port and the railing, to the right, as one would face the port. If one were searching for her there one would doubtless have discovered her, but if one were not looking for her, it was not unlikely that her presence in this simple ensconcement might be overlooked.

“Move!” said a female voice, sharply.

“Yes, Mistress,” said another female voice, frightened.

“It is heavy, Mistress,” said another female voice.

“Hurry,” said another female voice, this one, too, with uncompromising sharpness.

“Yes, Mistress!” said the female voice which had complained of the weight of something.

The officer of the court heard, too, the sounds of chains.

She pressed herself back into her nook.

Two women, stripped, passed her. Between them they bore a bulging silken sheet filled with a miscellany of precious items, doubtless loot taken from cabins. They could scarcely manage their burden. The officer of the court noted, to her horror, that their ankles were shackled. These were the chains she had heard. But even more startling to the officer of the court was the nature of the two women who followed the laden pair, two who stood to them obviously in some strict supervisory capacity, this made clear by their mien, and, too, by the whips they carried. It was the laughter of this second pair which had reached her ears but moments before. These two women following the shackled pair were among the most sensuous women she had ever seen. They were garbed, if one may so speak of it, in brief tunics, incredibly brief, and muchly open. On the wrists of these women, and on their arms, and slung about their throats, was much jewelry, things doubtless from the loot, with which they had bedecked themselves. On the wrist of one was a bracelet of diamonds that might have been the ransom of a city. Suddenly, startled, the officer of the court noted, about the throat of the other was a golden necklace which she had little doubt was her own, that which she had worn at the captain’s table. But beneath the necklaces, and strings of jewels, and such, which these women had flung about their necks in lavish prodigality she could detect, clearly, closely encircling each’s neck, a different device, a chain. This was locked shut, behind the back of the neck. Although the officer of the court could not see this from her vantage point, there depended from this chain, in front, a disk. On this disk appeared the name of the barbarian ship to which each was assigned, and a designation of the quarters upon it which each must serve and clean. These two women were vital, and held themselves beautifully. Muchly did their appearance contrast with that of the wretched, shackled creatures they supervised, creatures which they obviously held in the greatest contempt. One of these women held in her hand a piece of roasted fowl.

“Please, Mistress, let us pause, but for a moment!” begged one of the bearers of loot. Indeed, it is not unlikely that precious objects once her own lay mixed somewhere within that weighty heap which so tested the strength of herself and her miserable companion. Indeed, perhaps she could see them.

“Very well,” said one of the muchly bejeweled women. They were ship slaves. Barbarians do not like to be without their slaves.

The burden of the two shackled women was lowered to the floor, gratefully.

The officer of the court, fearfully, shrank back further in her nook.

“Kneel,” said one of the supervisors, “hands on your thighs, where we can see them.”

Instantly the two shackled women obeyed.

“You need not open your knees,” said the other supervisor. “You are not now before men.”

One of the shackled women moaned.

The supervisors laughed.

The supervisor with the bit of roast fowl tore off a bit of it in her teeth, and chewed on it.

“Please, Mistress,” said one of the kneeling women, “may we not be fed?”

“Do not dare to look upon us,” said one of the supervisors. “Keep your head down.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the woman, hurriedly lowering her head.

“You have not yet finished your work,” she was told.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the woman.

Suddenly the other supervisor, laughing, cracked her whip.

The two shackled women cried out in misery.

“Up,” said the supervisor, “resume your burden!”

“But Mistress!” protested one of the women, for they had knelt but a moment before.

Then she cried out as the lash fell upon her.

“Please, no, Mistress!” she wept.

“Instant obedience is required of slaves,” she was informed.

“Yes Mistress!” she wept, and she and her companion hastily rose to their feet, and each, again, seized up two corners of the sheet and, with difficulty swung it up, free of the floor.

“Turn about, move, slaves!” said the angry supervisor.

Then the two shackled women bore again, between them, their heavy burden.

The one supervisor cast aside the bit of roast fowl, having had what she wanted of it.

She wiped her hand on her thigh.

The officer of the court heard the lash fall twice more.

“Hurry, slaves!” she heard.

“Yes, Mistress,” she heard. “Yes, Mistress!”

When the women had disappeared down the corridor the officer of the court crept forth from her hiding place and seized up the bit of roast fowl, eagerly biting away what particles of it clung still to the light, hollow bone. Then she licked and sucked the bone, and her fingers, for the least bit of grease. But such minums of provender could do little more than mock the rage of her hunger. Bitterly she knelt on the floor, before the window, recalling food she had refused, dishes she had rejected, returning them to kitchens with her sharp words for cooks. Now she would have eagerly addressed herself to such largesse, such gifts, even head down, feeding from a plate set on the floor, beside a master’s chair. And her throat was parched. Never had she been so hungry and so thirsty.

Were there passengers and crew members still free on the ship? She did not know.

Could the ship be regained?

It did not seem likely. She recalled the openness, the indifference, the assurance with which the two women, supervising the bearers of loot, those bearers, too, doubtless loot as much as any they bore, had walked the corridor.

She recalled the two women with the whips. They had been among the best-postured, best-figured and most sensuous women she had ever seen. She had no doubt but that they were dieted, exercised and trained. Such, you see, is permissible with animals, and slaves. What was she to do? She was afraid to surrender.

She did not even know if she would be permitted to do so. She might not even receive an opportunity to do so. She might be fired upon, a moving object, instantly, at first sight, cut in two in some corridor by a blast of fire.

Perhaps she might surrender to ship slaves.

But she was afraid of them, and their strictness, and the contempt in which she knew they would hold her.

She thought of herself naked, in shackles.

And she knew they would not hesitate to use their whips.

But would men not protect her, if she made it clear to them that she would strive to please them, and desperately and eagerly, in any way they might desire, literally in any way they might desire?

Might they not find her body of interest, and the beauties of her face, so sensitive and expressive, and her softness, and her dispositions, to love and serve?

But how could she even think such thoughts, she, an officer of a court?

Surely they were the thoughts of a slave!

Was she naught, in her heart, but a slave?

But she had gathered that not all prisoners were assured of being kept.

She had gathered that from a remark of one of the strangers, one of the boarders, almost outside her very door.

Would they regard her as suitable to be kept, to serve them, or to be exhibited on a slave block?

She did not know.

She was afraid.

But she must have food. She must have drink.

She was frightened.

Perhaps she could continue to hide.

Then she cried out with misery, for, from where she knelt, she could see out the port, and now, outside, against the glassine substance of the port itself, adrift in space, on its back, she saw the body of the captain.

Then she fled from that place, one so open, to an emergency stairwell, one reached through a heavy steel door, in which there was a small panel with wire-reinforced glass, one from which she could reach the balcony of the theater, and thence, the upper level of the main lounge.

She stayed for a time in a narrow corridor, reached from the stairwell. She crouched there, frightened, as might have an animal in its burrow. Then she heard a sound to her right, and hurried away from it, arriving in a moment at an entrance to the balcony of the theater.

She was afraid to open the door, but heard steps behind her. She opened the door a tiny crack and crawled through, onto the carpeting of the balcony of the theater and then hid between tiers of seats. The steps passed by, outside the door. She found a piece of candy, on the carpeting beneath a seat. She seized it up and pressed it into her mouth, devouring it. She looked about for more, but found none. She heard voices below. She crawled to the front of the balcony, to look down, toward the stage. On the stage and in the area immediately below it and before it there was set up a sort of headquarters or communication center. There were several tables there and men monitored various devices. Behind one of the tables at the center of the stage, considering a chart, surrounded by men, was Ortog, prince of the Drisriaks, king of the Ortungs. How different he seemed now, no longer a haggard, demeaned, starved prisoner, but now, armed and mighty, a vital, commanding, merciless, fearful, terrible giant of a man. Seeing such a man she trembled, and muchly then did know herself a woman. Other men came and went, delivering reports, receiving orders, utilizing the lower entrances. Suspended by the wrists, at the left of the stage, and several feet above it, there hung, lifeless, two men. They had no feet. Their feet had been cut off and then they had apparently been drawn aloft, where they had bled to death. Their bodies suggested that they had undergone interrogation before being disposed of. These were the first and second officer of the ship. On the floor of the stage, to the right, chained closely, hand and foot, and by the neck, there knelt three naked, blond women. When a man glanced at them they shrank down, cowering. The officer of the court saw that they had been taught fear. “We shall have engineering shortly,” a man was informing Ortog. “Then it will be but a matter of hours.” Ortog nodded.

The officer of the court heard this with horror. She was neither a scientist nor a technician but she knew enough, surely, to surmise that somewhere within the intricate labyrinth of engineering sections would be found the control devices for the central life-support systems of the ship.

Another man brought news of major loot, imperial bullion, five imperial ingots, any one of which might purchase a ship, such serving usefully as bribes, among other things, to barbarian kings, to encourage them to keep the peace with the empire, to attack enemies of the empire, to intervene in sensitive areas on the empire’s behalf, and so on; another brought news of coined metals, gold and silver, tons thereof, taken in taxes, from four provincial worlds; and another of a bottle of wine, one of seven known to exist, from the vinyards of Kalan, on Cita, a world destroyed in the civil wars a thousand years earlier.

“It will be our victory wine!” said Ortog, of the last item in this accounting of significant loot.

There was enthusiastic assent to this.

In many sections there were self-contained support units, but these were designed to function only on a temporary, emergency basis.

It was with misery that the officer of the court crept back, again, between the seats, and began to make her way between them toward a door which led to the passageway giving access to the upper level of the main lounge.

She felt faint with hunger. She could hardly move, for her thirst.

She thought of the chained women on the stage. They were doubtless educated, civilized women, even citizens of the empire, but she did not think that that would make much difference to the barbarians, except, perhaps, to cause them to be regarded with a certain contempt, as weaklings and decadents, fit at best for the collar, in which at last they might be put to some use, in which at last they might find some justification for their existence. That they had once been citizens of the empire, prior to their embondment, might, of course, the officer of the court supposed, lend a certain flavor or pleasure to their use. But they had doubtless been chosen for their beauty. Certainly they were beautiful. Barbarians, she had heard, long ago, to her horror, enjoy exhibiting women at their courts. But how dare the barbarians exhibit these, female citizens of the empire, as though they might be no more than chained slave girls? “But is that not all they now are,” she asked herself, trembling, “chained slave girls?” “Yes,” she thought to herself, “that is now all they are, chained slave girls.” She recalled how they had cowered at the glance of a man. That frightened her. She wondered if they had been fed.

She crept along the passage toward the upper level of the lounge. The doors to the lounge were of plate glass, also on the upper level. Arriving at one of these upper doors, she edged to it and peered through it. She opened it a small bit, enough to admit herself, and then held it, easing it back, that its return be silent, and with as little motion as possible. There were the upper tables around this area, with their chairs and white cloths. She crept among them, and peered down into the main lounge. She felt sick with misery, for, below, the lounge was muchly occupied. Ship slaves, and their helpless, naked charges, came and went, entering with the charges, attractive female passengers, struggling under burdens of loot, then returning to cleared decks and cabins, to fetch more. She now noted, for the first time, the metal disks fastened to the neck chains of the ship slaves. She had no doubt but what they were meaningful. She could smell cooking. The smells made her faint. She wanted to cry out. But she dared not do so. The ship slaves were armed only with their whips, but these were quite sufficient, not only because they were frightening and terrible in themselves, and she muchly feared them, but because they were in their way symbols, symbols that behind the ship slaves, somewhere, lay the power of men. Some of the ship slaves were eating, at one table or another, or standing about, eating. In the center of the lounge, where tables had been moved to one side, there was a great heap of loot, with a diameter of several yards, a height, in the center, of better than a yard. This great heap included an incredible miscellany of items, not just necklaces, and bracelets, armlets, anklets, rings, pins, brooches, and such, but chronometers of diverse sizes and types, vessels of various sorts, craters, vases and amphoras, showers of silverware, heaped phials of perfumes, disks of cosmetics, rolled tapestries, and small rugs. Clothing, too, and footwear, was cast into that pile. She saw a shackled prisoner, one who had been surely one of the lovelier of the passengers she had seen earlier on the voyage, stagger in, bent under a bulging sack. The sack had been formed from a satin sheet. She was prodded forward by the whip of her supervising ship slave, and then, the whip held before her, was stopped. Gratefully the shackled prisoner lowered her burden and knelt wearily on the carpeting, her head down. The ship slave then emptied the sheet at the margin of that vast disorderly melange. The officer of the court noted that the clothing had been taken from her own cabin, and was the wardrobe she had brought with her, including what would have been her trousseau, anticipating her projected nuptials with the executive, Tuvo Ausonius. In the first looting of the cabin it had apparently been her jewelry, her papers, her money, her watch, such things, that had been taken. In the second looting less valuable items had been gathered. The ship slave drew forth from the garments the white sheath and held it up before another ship slave who, regarding it, laughed and made some remark. The first ship slave then held the garment against the kneeling prisoner, she who had brought in the garments, and then jerked it away from her. The two ship slaves laughed. The kneeling prisoner kept her head down and her hands on her thighs. The first ship slave then threw the garment to the pile. Also, among other items, she drew forth a pair of black high-heeled pumps. She tied these together and flung them onto the pile where there was an assemblage of footwear. The officer of the court had worn these pumps with the white sheath at the captain’s table. The shackled prisoners were barefoot. So, too, were the ship slaves. The officer of the court wore the mannish boots which were a portion of her “same garb,” and, within these boots, drawn up closely about her small, shapely feet and lovely legs, high black stockings, those of a sort common with women of her class on Terennia. The officer of the court had sewn some purple thread at the top of these stockings, to indicate that she was of the blood.

The ship slave who had emptied out the satin sheet spoke to the kneeling prisoner and the prisoner went immediately forward, unquestioningly, to her hands and knees, and then, within the constraints permitted her by her shackles, made her way, head down, on all fours, about the pile of loot to a place, rather back, toward the double doors leading into the lounge from the kitchen, where knelt, in a group, several of the shackled prisoners. She joined them, kneeling with them.

In her circuit of the store of loot, she passed between it and other objects, tables and chairs, at which sat some resting, feeding ship slaves. She also passed one table on which, above her head, as she crawled, on the sparkling linen table cloth, there lay, on her back, spread-eagled, a secured prisoner, not shackled, but bound, hands and feet, separated, tied to the table legs. Some ship slaves fed on the same table, using the hair of the secured prisoner as a towel, wiping the grease from their hands on her body. “Please feed me,” begged the prisoner. “You have learned to be good, haven’t you?” inquired one of the ship slaves, holding a bit of roast fowl toward the lips of the prisoner. “Yes, Mistress! Yes, Mistress!” said the prisoner, straining to reach the tiny piece of meat. The ship slave put the meat close and then pulled it back, once, twice, and the prisoner tried futilely each time to reach it. Then the ship slave put the tidbit into her own mouth and chewed it, ostentatiously savoring it. “It is good,” she said, and then swallowed it. The prisoner put her head back, turned it to the side, and moaned. The crawling prisoner passed, too, another prisoner, similarly secured, but one she might have looked down upon had she dared to turn her head and do so, for this one was fastened, on her back, spread-eagled, to an inverted table. But the crawling prisoner did not cast her eyes upon this other prisoner. She kept her head and eyes down, and her head straight. The ship slaves had apparently made it quite clear to their high-class charges that they were expected to attend to their duties, and that careless, roving glances were not encouraged, such rendering them liable to discipline.

“We are hungry, please feed us!” called one of the prisoners kneeling by the double doors. “Yes! Yes!” begged others.

“Silence, slaves,” said one of the ship slaves, and cracked her whip.

These upper-class prisoners, or perhaps more fittingly now, these slaves, shrank back.

“Perhaps there is more work for you to do first,” said the ship slave.

The women groaned.

“Do not fear,” said the ship slave. “Your slops will be ready soon.”

The women regarded one another, apprehensively.

On what was it that they would be fed?

But the officer of the court, from the anguished looks of them, did not think they would be particular.

“Lie down!” said the ship slave.

Immediately, obediently, in their shackles, crowded together, they lay on the carpeting.

“Man!” suddenly cried one of the ship slaves, and, to the astonishment of the officer of the court, all the ship slaves, losing no time in the matter, fell to their knees.

Gone then was the illusion of their superiority, which obtained only with the prisoners.

Into the lounge there strode, armored and helmeted, a barbaric figure, a Telnarian rifle strapped to his back, a fire pistol in his holster.

The ship slaves had assumed a common position of obeisance, their heads down, touching the carpeting, the palms of their hands, too, on the carpeting, as well.

The officer of the court saw women before men.

The barbaric figure, who seemed garbed as some sort of high officer, looked about the lounge.

He paused to regard the prisoners, who lay cowering on the carpet, hardly daring to look up. He seemed to regard them with contempt. But what did he expect of them? Did he think they should behave in some different fashion? Surely he was not kind. Surely he did not understand them. Could he not be compassionate? Could he not understand what was now so different about them, that which made all the difference in the world with them, that they were now owned by men?

But, too, now, it seemed, he looked upon them with care. The women, terrified, lowered themselves still more, pressing downward, their softness against the carpeting. Surely he could see that they were lying down, as they had been told! Surely he would not have them beaten! He made his way into the group. The women shuddered, and shrank away from him, drawing back their bodies, pulling their legs up, tightly, terrified that such a figure, even his boot, might brush against them. Many covered their heads with their hands. He went to one figure, and seized her by the hair, pulling her head up and turning it to face him. Then, after scrutinizing her features, he flung her back down, with her sister slaves. Her hair coloring, the officer of the court noted, was not unlike her own.

Then, in a moment, the helmeted, armored figure withdrew from the group. He went to the double doors leading to the kitchen, swung them apart, and peered in. When he had opened the doors she had heard the cry of “Man!” from within. And when the doors were open, he holding them widely apart, she had seen, on the tiles of the kitchen, within, one of the ship slaves, in a position of obeisance, doubtless hastily assumed. He looked about, standing in the doorway, mighty there, between those widely separated doors. Then, with a mere gesture of his head he indicated that those in the kitchen should rise and be about their duties. There were only ship slaves, she gathered, in the kitchen. Presumably the shackled prisoners would not now be allowed in such a place, lest they be tempted to steal food, and must then be beaten or slain. They could always be taught cooking and domestic duties later. Then he turned about and left the lounge, exiting through the main doors, those through which he had entered. When he had departed the ship slaves in the main lounge resumed their feet.

Shortly thereafter two ship slaves, carrying buckets, emerged from the kitchen.

They stood before the enforcedly recumbent slaves. “Kneel,” said a ship slave. The prisoners rose up, to kneel. “Your dinner, miladies, has been prepared,” said the ship slave.

Eager looks coursed among the prisoners. “But first, you must learn to perform obeisance,” said the ship slave. “None of you properly assumed the position, though in the presence of a master.”

Then the prisoners were instructed in the proper way in which to perform various obeisances in the presence of men, or, indeed, free persons. Such obeisances, they also learned, might be required of them even in the presence of slaves, if the slaves stood to them in some position of authority.

The officer of the court watched, horrified, fascinated, as various positions were adjusted, as various instructions were issued. Upper-class women, down in the main lounge, before her very eyes, to her horror, were being instructed in matters of courtesy and etiquette, of respect and deference.

“Excellent, miladies,” said the ship slave who was managing these matters. “You learn quickly.” The officer of the court thought that she, herself, might do as well, that she, too, might learn as quickly, but then she dismissed such a thought, frightened.

“You have been complimented, miladies,” said the ship slave reproachfully.

The prisoners looked at her.

The officer of the court wondered what it might be, to render obeisance to a man. She shuddered, thrilled.

“Have you no manners?” inquired the ship slave.

“Thank you, Mistress,” they said.

“Now,” said the ship slave to the two ship slaves who held the buckets, “throw the slaves their slops.”

Then, in handfuls, the two slaves with the buckets cast bits of food, some of which was doubtless garbage, discarded residues from their own meals, or those of others, among the slaves, who scrambled, and even fought, most eagerly for them.

How mixed were the feelings of the officer of the court seeing this spectacle.

She was horrified, of course, to see how the women fought for the food.

“Please, more!” cried a woman. “Me! Me!” begged another, putting out her hands. But, too, she was acutely aware of her own hunger and thirst. She feared she might die. Could she have secured some of those scraps if she were below? Would she be quick enough, agile enough? Would the slaves with the buckets take pity on her and throw her something? Could she keep it? Would larger, stronger women take it away from her? Could she pull away, and thrust it in her mouth and swallow it before another could deprive her of it? She did not know.

She looked down at the women, scrambling for what scraps might be cast to them.

At least they were being fed, as she was not. They had, at least, the chance, down there, on the carpeting, to snatch up some bit of food.

The ship slaves, she was sure, did not fight in such a way for their food.

Presumably this form of feeding was a lesson, that the prisoners must now depend on the will of others, for even their food. How cruel seemed the ship slaves to the prisoners. She did not think that masters would be so cruel. Indeed, might not masters even grow fond of their slaves, being careful, of course, not to relax the discipline in which they were held. Let the prisoners then hope that they might soon escape the supervision of the ship slaves, that they might soon, by gift or sale, come into the ownership of men, whose interest and affection they might strive to win by their heat and beauty, and devotion and selfless service.

“You feed eagerly,” said one of the ship slaves. “Obviously you know it is better than you would receive in the steel bins.” The officer of the court shuddered.

But this suggested there must be other prisoners, or slaves, doubtless kept on the barbarian ships. There had been a passenger list of over two thousand. The officer of the court did not think the ship could be recovered. Moreover, she had heard, in the theatre, that engineering was soon expected to fall into the hands of the barbarians. That would surely mean the end of resistance. Too, in the early moments of the fighting, if not earlier, distress signals had doubtless been sent out. The barbarians would not risk their vessels, presumably, against imperial cruisers. Ortog had been studying a chart. Perhaps on it, hour by hour, were being marked the advances of an imperial force. She remembered the men monitoring various devices. But this was a remote sector of space, at the fringe of the empire. The arrival of an imperial force was surely not imminent. It was not likely that one could arrive for several days, if one were on its way at all. Certainly the barbarians seemed in no hurry to abandon the vessel. It seemed they wished to obtain all the loot possible, human and otherwise, from the Alaria. The thought struck her, frightening her, that she herself was, from the point of view of the barbarians, booty, as much as a golden coin or those black high-heeled pumps, tied together, which the ship slave had cast onto the pile of loot. What hope was there for her? Was she not, already, in effect, a woman owned by men, like the women below, only that she was not now naked, and her ankles were not shackled, assuming that they might find her of sufficient interest to keep her? Too, she had little doubt that when it came time for the barbarians to leave the Alaria, perhaps to slip away from an imperial force, they would not be likely to simply leave her behind, even as a silent, lifeless wreck, dead in space. She would be destroyed, to eliminate any witnesses who might somehow have survived, eluding discovery and capture, and to eliminate any evidence that might prove relevant to the identity of her attackers. The officer did not know it, of course, but her conjectures were quite sound. Tending to confirm them would have been the information that the small base on Tinos had been destroyed. What hope was there for her? To hide, and then to be blown to pieces in space, with the shattered Alaria, or to hide and then, in some tiny obscure confine, die of thirst or hunger? “No,” she thought to herself, “I must surrender.” “Am I not already, in effect,” she thought to herself, the thought strangely unnerving her, and thrilling her, “a woman like those below, one owned by men?” She then stood up, behind the railing on the upper level of the lounge, between the white tables, her mind made up. She placed her hands, clasped, on the top of her head, as she understood the barbarians wished men to surrender, for she was, of course, of Terennia. Too, they could not have seen her otherwise, where she was, for the railing. She stepped toward the railing. For a moment she was in full view, up, behind the railing on the higher level of the lounge. Any who had glanced up at that moment would have immediately seen her. But none at that moment happened to have had their attention directed in that unlikely direction. Had they done so they would have noted not only the officer of the court, but also the large, armored figure who had come up behind her.

Suddenly a large, gloved hand had closed, from behind, over the mouth of the officer of the court, holding her head back. She was helpless. Her right upper arm, too, was clasped in a mighty grip. She was drawn back.

A voice whispered in her ear. “Do not straggle, stupid little slave.”

Both were now no longer visible from the main floor of the lounge.

The officer of the court felt giddy, being held with such strength.

As if her straggles might have been availing against it!

But she obediently ceased even to squirm.

Too, she was frightened that she might, somehow, for who knew what strange sorts of things men were, excite it, with who knew what fearful consequences, if she straggled.

She was then drawn backwards through a side door from the lounge, and down a long, dim corridor. She did not understand this. She had not expected to be taken into custody in this fashion. He had not even given her a chance, yet, she, a citizen of the empire, of the honestori, even of the blood, to formally surrender to him.

Then she was drawn into a small, dark, steel room, something like a utility room, it seemed.

The door shut with a heavy sound.

She could feel air in the room.

He removed his gloved hand from her mouth and she sank down, weakly, to the steel floor, she sensed at his feet.

She put out her hands and touched the heavy boots. She knelt before him and put her head down to those boots. “I am a slave,” she said. “I confess myself such, honestly and openly. Please do not kill me.”

Then she pressed her head down upon the boots, and then, drawing back a little, she kissed them, clearly, firmly, that he might well understand, even in the dark, that it was done. She then licked them, on the tops and the sides, making certain, too, that her cheeks rubbed down, now and again, firmly, against them, that there be no mistaking the matter, even in the darkness.

“Yes, you are a slave,” said a voice, which she feared she might recognize, and then the light in the room snapped on.

She looked up from the boots and saw herself surely before the large, armored figure who had, but moments before, been on the main floor of the lounge. The armor, the weapons, the accouterments, the insignia, were the same. The helmet, muchly concealing his features, and its markings, too, were the same.

Startling her, to one side, to her right, on the steel flooring, there lay a woman. She had long, blond hair, which was plaited in two thick braids, which, had she been standing, would have fallen to the soft flesh at the back of her knees. She was naked, and gagged, and bound, hand and foot.

She looked over, in consternation, and rage, at the officer of the court.

The huge figure removed his helmet.

“You!” cried the officer of the court, for it was the gladiator.

“She is poor stuff, Master,” said a voice. “Why do you bother with her?”

The officer of the court, turning, saw the slave girl, Janina.

The officer of the court, in fury, sprang to her feet.

“Kneel!” said the officer of the court to Janina, in fury.

“Be silent, slave girl,” said Janina.

The officer of the court looked immediately to the gladiator, for redress, that he would cruelly punish the errant slave, but he made no motion to do so.

The gladiator grinned.

Would he not adjudicate the matter? Surely he did not think she was merely, too, a slave?

She turned to Janina, angrily.

But Janina stood her ground against her, insolently, it seemed.

The officer of the court turned, then, lightly, to the gladiator.

“Where did you obtain your present garb, and accouterments?” she asked.

“From one who loaned them to me,” he said. “I do not think his neck is broken, but he is likely to remain unconscious for several hours.”

The gladiator crouched beside the blond captive. He loosened her gag, pulling it down about her neck. “You understand what you are to do?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, angrily.

Doubtless her mouth had a foul taste.

The officer of the court looked again at Janina.

Janina was now clad not in the keb, but in garments of barbaric splendor, muchly bedecked with primitive ornaments. This garb, the officer of the court suspected, had once been that of the bound captive, to her right. The captive, for example, did not have locked about her neck, closely encircling it, the chain and disk of a ship slave. That suggested that she was a free woman and, given the raiment on Janina, perhaps one of considerable importance. “Yes, what?” inquired the gladiator.

“Yes, milord,” said the blond woman, bitterly.

“That word costs you much, does it not?” asked the gladiator.

“Yes,” she said, angrily.

He looked at her.

“Yes, milord,” she said.

“Who is she?” asked the officer of the court, looking down on the blond captive.

The gladiator rose to his feet.

“I have been remiss,” he said. “May I introduce Gerune, a princess of the Drisriaks, and one who chose to join the secessionist house of Ortog.”

“A princess!” exclaimed the officer of the court.

“To be sure,” said the gladiator, “she is now indistinguishable from a comely slave.”

The captive squirmed.

“Are you not pleased, milady,” said the gladiator, “that your face and figure might fetch a goodly price in a slave market?”

“Wretch!” hissed the captive.

“May I introduce our new guest?” the gladiator asked the captive, indicating the officer of the court.

“I do not greet commoners,” she said.

“I am of the blood!” said the officer of the court.

“You are only a Telnarian bitch, fit, at best, for the collar,” said the blond woman.

“Barbarian!” said the officer of the court.

“Slave!” said the blond captive.

“‘Slave’!” exclaimed the officer of the court.

“Yes, slave,” said the captive. “Did you not, a moment before, bespeak yourself such?”

The officer of the court felt faint.

“Do you think such words can be unspoken?” asked the captive. “Once uttered, it is done. You are then powerless to alter or qualify them in any way.”

“Surely you jest,” said the officer of the court.

“It is the law,” laughed Janina, “slave.”

“And, too,” said the blond captive, “it was not I who in the darkness, it seems, licked and kissed at a man’s boots!”

“I thought him of the strangers, of the boarders!” said the officer of the court.

“And what does that matter, slave?” asked Janina.

“I am not a slave!” said the officer of the court to the gladiator.

“My plan,” said he, “is as follows. We shall descend to the hold, and seek out Section 19, for there, I think unbeknownst to our friends outside, there are stored several escape capsules. You may recall them, from the evening of the contest. Some of these, by Pulendius and others, were, two days ago, taken on their tracks to the elevators, and conveyed upward to space locks.”

“I saw damaged capsules, useless, outside, by the ships,” said the officer of the court.

“It is my hope that some escaped,” said the gladiator. “I know that many did not.”

“Why did you not try to escape then?” asked the officer of the court.

“Can you not guess?” asked Janina, angrily.

“No,” said the officer of the court. Then she said, frightened, “Surely it has nothing to do with me.”

Janina laughed, bitterly.

Then the officer of the court said, “Oh!” for a rope was being knotted about her neck.

“Kneel,” said the gladiator.

The officer of the court knelt. She looked up at the gladiator.

“I do not understand,” she said.

She saw the end of the rope on her neck tossed to Janina.

“I do not think it is so hard to understand,” he said.

“Please,” she said.

“Surely we have much to discuss,” he said.

“Please!”

“Janina will wear the royal robes of a princess of the Drisriaks,” said the gladiator.

“What are you going to do with me?” asked the officer of the court.

“We think,” said the gladiator, “that with her robes about her face, Janina may pass for the princess. My garb, I trust, will serve as my disguise. The princess, gagged, on a neck rope, her hands bound behind her, will be marched before us, to be taken for a captured passenger. If she should attempt to struggle or flee, or give any sign of her distress or identity, I will gun her down immediately with the fire pistol. You understand, princess?”

“Yes, milord,” she said.

“If she is recognized, she will prove a valuable hostage,” said the gladiator.

“You will accompany us as another captured prisoner, one not yet even stripped, on all fours, on your leash, held by Janina. Perhaps it will be assumed she may have selected you for a serving slave. Perhaps you have the makings of a useful serving slave. One does not know. I have the fire pistol, and a Telnarian rifle, as extra insurance.”

“I am to be marched before you, as I am?” asked the blond captive.

“Yes, milady,” said the gladiator.

“I am the sister of Ortog, king of the Ortungen!” she said.

“Let him then understand you in a new light,” said the gladiator, “a light in which brothers seldom understand their sisters, that other men might find them of great interest as slaves.”

“Wretch!” cried the princess.

“And I am somehow not overly fond of Ortog,” said the gladiator.

“And so you would march his sister thusly?”

“Certainly.”

“You are a barbarian!” said the officer of the court, aghast.

“I do not know who I am,” said the gladiator.

The officer of the court recalled that Ortog had identified the gladiator, obviously mistakenly, as of the blood of the Otungen, whoever they might be. Indeed, the names, to her civilized ear, though clearly distinguishable, sounded too much alike. The Ortungen was a secessionist house of the Drisriaks, a tribe of the Alemanni. She had no notion of who, or what, the Otungen might be. Nor, it seems, had the gladiator.

“I despise you!” said the princess.

“But it will be you who will be naked, on the rope,” said the gladiator.

“How dare you treat me so?” asked the princess.

“Do not peoples such as yours often march the women of the enemy, even women of the royal houses, through the forests naked, on ropes?”

“How dare you do such a thing!” she exclaimed.

“It is in accord with my plan,” he said.

“You are a man of no name, of no people!” said the blond captive.

“I have heard,” said Janina, “that it is not uncommon for barbarians to march the captured women of defeated royal houses on the ropes of common soldiers, men of no repute, that they may understand their lowliness as compared to the victors, that they, compared to the victors, are no more than slaves.”

The blonde squirmed angrily in her bonds.

“I would beware, milady,” said Janina, solicitously, “lest you excite the master.”

Instantly the blond captive ceased struggling.

Janina laughed.

The blonde looked up at her, in fury.

The officer of the court put her hands on the rope on her neck.

The blond captive, seated, ankles crossed and bound, wrists crossed and bound, behind her, the gag down about her neck, looked up at the gladiator.

“Who are you, truly?” she asked.

“I am Dog, of the festung village of Sim Giadini,” he said. He added, as well, the name of the world but that name we, again, choose to omit at this point.

“You are no peasant,” said the blond captive.

“It does not matter,” said the gladiator.

“I see,” said the princess.

“It only matters,” said the gladiator, “that I am he in whose power you now are, totally. Do you understand?”

“Yes, milord,” she said.

“We shall go publicly through the corridors,” said the gladiator. “That, I think, will be safer than attempting to have recourse to ventilator shafts, crawl spaces, and such, which, as they are obviously surreptitious passages and hiding places, will presumably be guarded. We shall, with luck, reach Section 19, in the hold, and then, while I move one of the escape capsules to the elevator, Janina will supervise you two. Once we enter the capsule into the lock, we can set the timing device for opening the hatch, and can then launch.”

“It is a mad plan,” said Janina.

“One may always hope that our departure will pass unnoticed, that, after all this time, the gunners will not be alert, that the crews of pursuit launches will be tardily dispatched, such things.”

“What of me?” asked the officer of the court, kneeling at the feet of the gladiator, the rope on her neck, its free end grasped by Janina.

“Does the little slave feel neglected?” asked Janina.

“What of me?” asked the officer of the court, ignoring Janina.

“You do not think I have ever forgotten you, do you, my dear?” asked the gladiator.

“What are you going to do with me?” asked the officer of the court.

“I am going to take you with me,” he said.

“I do not understand,” said the officer of the court.

“She is stupid,” said Janina.

“What could you possibly want with me?” asked the officer of the court.

“Can you not guess?” asked Janina.

“No! Oh, please, no!” whispered the officer of the court.

The gladiator regarded her, a tiny smile playing about the corners of his lips.

“No!” whispered the officer of the court.

“Yes,” he said, softly.

The officer of the court slumped to the floor of the small room.

She awakened, lifted to a sitting position, she did not know how much later, to find the spout of a canteen at her lips. She reached for it, and clutching it tightly, drank.

“Enough,” said the gladiator, after too short a moment.

He handed the canteen to Janina.

The officer of the court trembled.

“Eat this,” said the gladiator, kindly, pressing a roll into her small hands.

Madly, like a starving animal, she crammed the bit of food into her mouth.

“See, Janina,” said the gladiator, “how a lady eats, with such daintiness. You might take a lesson from this.”

The officer of the court chewed eagerly, swallowing entire pieces at a time, almost as though afraid what was not yet swallowed might be pulled from her mouth.

“Methinks, Master,” said Janina, “it is rather the way a starving slave feeds.”

“Perhaps,” said the gladiator.

“And surely it is fitting for the starving slave,” said Janina.

The gladiator smiled.

“Food will well control her,” said Janina.

“Doubtless,” said the gladiator.

“And the whip,” said Janina.

“Perhaps,” said the gladiator.

The officer of the court trembled. She had no doubt but what she would obey the whip, and well. But they spoke of her, or at least the slave girl did, as though she herself might be no more than a slave.

She looked to the gladiator.

But she was given no more food.

The officer of the court saw that the feet of the blond captive were now unbound. Too, there was now a rope on her neck, running to a stanchion. To the same stanchion ran another rope, that which was on her own neck. The princess’s gag, the officer of the court noted, had not yet been resecured. It was still loose, down, about her neck.

“We will leave now,” said the gladiator.

The two ropes were freed from the stanchion.

“Up,” said the gladiator to the princess. She rose to her feet. He held her rope.

“To all fours, slave,” said Janina. The officer of the court went to all fours. Her rope was held by Janina.

“Face the door,” said the gladiator to the princess. She did so.

He then looped her rope about his wrist and went behind her, to adjust her gag.

He put his hands on it.

“Wait,” she said.

He paused.

“You are going through with this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Take me with you,” she said.

The officer of the court gasped.

“How can I face my people after this?” asked the princess. “What good can I be?”

“Do not tempt me, luscious female,” said the gladiator.

“Do not make me do this,” she begged.

“It will be an excellent experience for you,” he said. “It will help you to become more aware of your womanhood.”

Her small hands pulled a little, weakly, at the bonds that held them secured behind her back.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes, milord,” she said.

Then she said, “Oh!” for her gag was lifted, drawn back and fixed in place.

She would not now speak, nor could she, until relieved of its constraint.

“Should this one, too, not be gagged, Master?” inquired Janina, indicating the officer of the court.

“Will it be necessary to gag you?” asked the gladiator of the officer of the court.

“No,” said the officer of the court.

“I have your word, as one of the honestori, as a citizen of the empire, as one even of the blood, that you will be silent?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Beware,” said Janina to the officer of the court. “Slaves may be slain for a lie!”

“Let us go,” said the gladiator, facing the door.

Then he said, “Stand straight, Gerune. Put your shoulders back. Be sensational. Remember that you are not a free woman now but a slave.”

Gerune, princess of the Drisriaks, sister of Ortog, king of the Ortungen, straightened her body and threw her shoulders back. How proudly then she stood.

“How beautiful she is!” exclaimed Janina.

“Ah,” breathed the gladiator.

Even the officer of the court was struck with awe, seeing how beautiful a woman could be.

The gladiator boldly threw open the door.

“March,” he said.

The group then exited the small room.

Janina, who was the last to leave, snapped off the light.