Like a flash Mich'l was upon him, his hand at the thick throat, the other grasping the wrist. Although the soldier, like the majority of the populace, lacked the intense vitality of the technies, he had stubborn strength, and he fought effectively in the drilled, automatic way of his kind. Mich'l was further handicapped by the necessity of maintaining silence. One shout, and a dozen needle-rays would no doubt perforate his body with holes and slash his flesh with smoldering cuts. * * * * * Grunting and sweating, they fought all around the rose-colored curb of the fountain. At last Mich'l succeeded in forcing his adversary over the low stone, and they went over together with a resounding splash. The straining body of the guard suddenly relaxed, and a spreading red cloud in the water disclosed that he had struck his head against the first of the terraces that rose in the fountain's mist-shrouded center. Up one of the corridors a door opened, and an angry voice shouted: "Gurka! Gurka! I'll have you in bracelets! Captain of the guard!" "Sir!" From another of the corridors came a sound of running feet. A command rang out: "On the double!" An officer, followed by four soldiers, dashed around the corner and flashed by the fountain. Peering over the curb, Mich'l saw them, some hundred yards away, come to a halt before an opened door. With a thrill of exultation Mich'l recognized the tall figure of Lane Mollon, looking like a slightly damaged satyr of the better class, for his head was bandaged, and he was in bad humor. "Captain!" he stormed. "I want you to put that damned louse in solitary confinement for a year. Hear?" "Yes, sir." Like a megaphone the long corridor carried the low, respectful words to Mich'l's ears. Lane continued to storm: "And if you put another damned merclite-crazy blunker[1] on guard in this place I'll have your commission. Hear?" "Yes, sir." [Footnote 1: Blunker--a blunderer, an oaf. Mechanical recording had preserved the language in much of its original form, but new words did creep in.] * * * * * A quick decision was necessary, and Mich'l acted without hesitation. The guard had rolled over on his back, so that his face was out of the water, and he was breathing with quick, painful gasps. Mich'l dragged him up under the concealing shelter of the fountain spray, and there changed clothes with him. In the meantime the flowing water washed away the red stain of blood. When the captain returned with his guard, Mich'l was lying realistically in the pool, apparently deep in drugged sleep, the little kepi tilted rakishly over his face. He was roughly seized and dragged out of the water to the accompaniment of much cursing. A fist crashed into his face.