Prize of Gor by John Norman Page A

for nothing could have been more obvious, a drink much too strong for her.
    “Are you well?” he had inquired.
    “Yes, yes,” she had smiled.
    “I have been thinking,” he said, “about your interest in, your question concerning, my supposed resemblance to someone you once knew.”
    “Yes?” she said. She smiled. She felt unsteady.
    “I may be able to shed some light on that matter,” he said. “Indeed, perhaps I can introduce you to the individual you have in mind.”
    “I knew — knew — it!” she said. “You must be the son, or a cousin, some nephew, something, some relative!”
    “Are you all right?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “I think I can introduce you to him,” he said.
    “Oh, I would not want to meet him,” she said. “I was only curious. I was just asking.”
    “Are you afraid of him?” he asked.
    “No,” she said. “Of course not!”
    “Perhaps you should be,” he said.
    “What?” she asked.
    “Nothing,” he said.
    “I will introduce you to him,” he said.
    “No, no,” she smiled. Then she felt him lift her to her feet, and draw her from behind the table, and away from the booth. She had no intention of resisting and, in any event, it seemed she could not do so. She recalled the waiter asking after her. “She is all right,” said the young man. “We have the car waiting.” She recalled seeing a bill, of large denomination, several times the amount of the bill, left on the table. Then she was aware of being helped outside, and, a bit later, she felt herself being placed gently, solicitously, into a long, dark car, the limousine, which had apparently been waiting in the vicinity. She remembered little more after that, until she awakened, considerably later it seemed, in a strange bed, clad in what seemed to be a hospital or examination gown, and wearing, on her left ankle, a locked steel ring.
    ****
    “Do you feel well enough for me to continue?” asked the young man.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Perhaps a little to eat, and some strong coffee?” said the young man. “You must be very hungry.”
    She held her legs closely together, turned a bit away from him. She drew the gown more closely about her. She was pathetic, frightened.
    “Tutina!” said the young man.
    Swiftly Tutina rose to her feet and hurried from the room.
    “Doubtless, as an informed, intelligent person,” said the young man, “you are aware of the existence of many worlds, and the overwhelming statistical probability that many of these, indeed, given the numbers involved, millions of them, are suitable for life as we know it, and that, further, given the nature of chemical evolution, and organic evolution, and natural selections, and such, that there is an overwhelming statistical probability that not only life, but rational life, would exist on many of these worlds, indeed, once again, given the numbers involved, on millions of them.”
    She nodded.
    “I ask you to believe nothing now,” he said. “But consider the possibility of alien life forms and exotic, alternative technologies, life forms of incredible intelligence, say, far beyond that of the human, with, at their disposal, enormous powers, the power even to influence, and manipulate, gravity. With this power, they could, for example, move their planet from star to star, as it seemed appropriate to them, and, when they wished, if they wished, they might conceal its presence gravitationally, by affecting certain fields involved. Do you understand this, at least as a logical possibility?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Suppose then that human beings might exist, too, on such a planet, perhaps originally brought there for scientific purposes, say, as specimens, or perhaps as curiosities, or perhaps merely in the interests of aesthetics, much as one might plant a garden, putting one flower here and another there, or perhaps as one might stock an aquarium, such things. Do you understand?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “But this seems quite