Guerlan gazed wonderingly at the exquisite features of the fragile girl-scientist, marveling at the incredible courage of this puzzling being who unaccountably had chosen to throw in her lot with his own.
"Perlac," Guerlan spoke thoughtfully. "I'm afraid today has been something of a mystery. From what I've seen you do to that Aero-dome wall, the inexplicable accidents of the acid vats were undoubtedly your doing. Yet, you've saved my life and in so doing forfeited your own. Why? What interest can you possibly have in a doomed life such as mine?"
The girl smiled slowly, ineffably, in a mixture of melancholy sweetness and inexpressable sadness. She turned her golden head slightly and when she spoke her voice had sombre overtones rich with emotion.
"Do you know what is piped into the so-called organic vats, Guerlan? No, you wouldn't know. Plants, you thought, beasts and cattle and dead flesh.... Dead, yes. The murdered bodies of human beings, such as you would have been!"
All Guerlan's rigid training rose in protest at the charge against the Protector in Chief. It could not be! There could be no murder in Plastica, duels yes, honorable combat between men ... but murder! He acknowledged that the Laws of Plastic, Inc., were ruthless and harsh, and the Inner Circle had become lax in their supervision, until Plastics, Inc., had become an octopus. But to imply that His Benevolence would countenance cold-blooded murder ... every fiber of his being revolted from such a charge.
And then he remembered the Feast of the Jewels, and the travesty of justice in his case, and he was silenced.
"His Benevolence and the Inner Circle are Plastics, Inc." Perlac continued imperturbably as if reading his thoughts. "Don't argue now, strap yourself in and prepare for an orbital fall, we'll wheel in direct ratio with the rotation of the planet then dive in a concentric spiral that will become tighter and tighter until we reach our objective. It is the only way we can elude the robot-proctor patrol.... Look, they are climbing already. The plane's robot control is set and timed—it will take us there. No human being can possibly retain consciousness to guide the plane in such a maneuver," she explained, pale as alabaster.
Before Vyrl Guerlan had time to do else but tighten the broad straps and lean back against the mullioned seat, the girl had touched a series of knobs. Suddenly the craft began to wheel with meteoric speed, then dived with a violence that sent the landscape spinning into a fantastic pattern that quickly blurred. Guerlan felt as if the very marrow in his bones had liquefied, an intolerable pain lanced at the back of his brain like an atomic needle, and his face was contorted into a spasmodic grimace he was unable to control. He tried to close his eyes but couldn't, tried to shout and suddenly plummeted into an abyss.
They were diving downward into the outskirts of the immense city, down a secret inter-communicating passage that connected the various levels, past the third, fourth and finally into a yawning chasm where all was darkness. The hurtling craft sped on unerringly as if drawn by a magnetic beam.