"It will be hard on the kitty."
"Okay," Mike retorted harshly. "My responsibility is getting Doree out of here alive!"
"I'm not arguing," Nicko said. "Let's move."
The H'Lorkan had remained silent the whole time. He had done what was expected of him promptly and efficiently and proven himself a good comrade. But there was no time now to explain the plan to him. If he had remained where he was they would probably have gone off and left him. But when they started across the open country, he ran with them.
Mike momentarily expected the light from the glowing bulbs to pick them out, but luck was with them and they gained the edge of the airfield without being detected. They disappeared in among the craft.
There was quite an assortment of these and from the design and variations in size, Mike got the impression they were pleasure craft and not a part of the fighting force. Encrusted jewels were used in profusion and decorations along with both silver and gold. On this planet these precious materials seemed to have little value as no guards were posted over the field.
There were lights in a few of them. These, Mike carefully skirted until the party came at last to the sleek black hull of the ship McKee and Talbott had arrived in.
No sight ever gladdened his heart more than that of the great, competent-looking monster. The ramp was down and all was darkness inside.
"Shall I go ahead and check?" Nicko asked.
"It wouldn't help. If anyone's in there they'd probably nab you."
"Maybe I don't nab as easily as you think," Nicko growled.
"Anyhow, there isn't time. I think that crew spotted us when we entered the field. We've got to get in and away."
"Once inside we can lock the hatches and hold them off until we blast."
"You think so?" Mike asked. "With that funny fire ray they've got?"
"Well, maybe they just won't see us then."
"Let's hope not."
Nicko went up the ramp first. Mike followed with Doree in his arms.
The H'Lorkan warrior brought up the rear. Into the dark maw of the ship they went, where Nicko found a utility flashlight on its hook near the door to the companionway. He sent a beam on ahead. "Holy Mother Mars!" he croaked.
The light flashed back off thousands of brilliant jewels almost blinding them. The companionway was strewn inches deep in multicolored gems.
"That's about what I figured," Mike said. "Those two have been loading loot ever since they set down here. I'll bet every cabin's packed to the guards."
This was true. As they moved through the ship it was like walking in the treasure house of a Neptunian robber baron. "There's well over a billion in here," Nicko marveled. "Whatever you say about our friends--they aren't small timers."
"It will be a touchy job getting this ship off the ground," Mike said.
Nicko grinned hideously. "Want to stop and throw a few tons overboard?"
"There's no time or believe me, I would. Let's get to the control cabin.
It was the one cabin in which no wealth was stored. In the place of jewels and bar-gold there was something else. It seemed McKee and Talbott had not been as negligent of their hoard as it had first appeared.
The half-dozen native guards in the control room allowed the four to enter, standing close against the near wall. Then they fell upon them.
Taken by surprise and attacked by a greater number, the fugitives had no chance. The H'Lorkan warrior, last into the room, fought bravely, but when the lights were turned on, the prisoners had been swiftly cuffed and subdued.
Doree had been jerked cruelly from Mike's arms and he saw a tall native warrior just disappearing through the door carrying her in his arms.
Mike's shoulders slumped as he tasted the bitter dregs of defeat....
They were led through the city streets under heavy guard, streets brightly illuminated by myriad glowing balls. The populace eyed them curiously, their importance evidently indicated by the escort of a dozen grim soldiers.
Only Mike and Nicko and M'Landa took the long walk up the avenue, Doree having been spirited away. Mike was a man in deep torment as he wondered helplessly about her fate. Was she already dead? Had she been made the plaything of some high official? Of McKee or Talbott or both?
This last thought brought red rage flashing into his heart.
They were taken into a huge, gloomy building and down a long corridor.
As they approached it, a sound greatened before them; a rolling muted thunder of mixed anger, pain, and terror. They entered a long, narrow corridor, one wall broken at regular intervals by small metal doors.
Mike realized the sound came from beyond these doors--from the angry throats of prisoners--that this could be nothing other than the city's prison. There was no doubt of it.
The cavalcade stopped. One of the doors was unlocked and thrown open, the three pushed roughly inside. The door slammed, the lock was turned and the guards stalked away as they had come.
The interior of the cell was very dim. Mike blinked his eyes, striving to pierce the dimness. He opened them and got a surprise. This was more of a cage than a prison. The entire wall opposite the door consisted of bars.
The three went forward and stood in mute wonder at what they saw. The cells were elevated and ran in a circle around an amphitheater--a great lighted pit--so that the prisoners were spectators at the drama that went on below.
It was indeed a strange place, this pit, its purpose temporarily obscure to the three prisoners. It contained great vats of steaming, multicolored liquids, many tables, a great number and variety of frames, racks, and instruments.
There were perhaps a dozen men at work down there. They appeared to be making preparation for what was to follow. Mike wondered about their occupation, then turned sharply on Nicko.
"What's the matter with you? Why aren't you finding out about this?"
Nicko stared in amazement. "Me? How the devil can I--?"
"The H'Lorkan. He might be able to give you some information. Ask him!"
Nicko shuddered as though coming out of a daze. "Sure. I guess my wheels got kind of stopped."
M'Landa, who never seemed to speak unless spoken to, answered Nicko's questions calmly. Mike watched the two as they conversed; saw Nicko's increasing indignation and horror. "All right!" Mike snapped. "Don't keep it to yourself. What did he say?"
"Not much. Just that these are the high priests of the Ptomenties.
They prepare the bodies of the dead for burial and their job is to make them look so life-like that you wouldn't even know they were dead. This is their experimental laboratory--where they keep their hands in. They experiment on the prisoners."
As the chill went through Mike, he saw four guards who had been stationed on the far side of the pit acknowledge a sign from one of the priests and start toward a staircase leading to the prisoner's balcony.
They stopped at one of the cells and unlocked a door set in the barred front. As they entered a roar of hatred went up from every cell in the dreadful circle.
As he watched, Mike was conscious of the fact that only he and Nicko were watching the proceedings, that M'Landa's face was not glued to the bars. The thing's too horrible for the H'Lorkan to take, Mike thought. He's crouching back there behind us--covering his face most likely. And I can't say I blame him.