“I’m Latham Koler,” he announced, “I understand Rod Harrow is here.” Rod pushed his chair back. Silence settled over the crowd. It was broken suddenly by a scuffle in the far corner of the compartment. A golden-haired girl struggled in the arms of a slave who tried vainly to clamp his hand over her mouth. “He’s here all right.” Mona Darlanan’s disheveled hair fell over her shoulders. She pushed the slave from her and struck him sharply. Her clear voice shattered the quiet. “He’s here. And he’s plotting rebellion. I just realized they’ve been talking to each other in sign language!” * * * * * The walls of the slave compartment seemed to glow with thousands of almost microscopic specks of violet light. A scant moment later the door to the compartment burst open and the guards entered. They marched with beautiful precision, calmly, impassively. Rod watched them as he rose from his chair. He took quick note of the masks they wore to protect themselves from the air and then he launched himself head first. His skull landed with a satisfying plunk in the middle of the first guard’s stomach. His reaching arms clasped the tetrarchian’s legs just below the knees and the tetrarchian landed on the floor--hard. He slipped the guard’s blaster from its holster on the way down, knocked the tetrarchian mask loose and rolled to meet the next attacker. His turn was just in time to miss a pair of boots--lead-heeled--that were jamming down on his head. As he twisted, Rod saw another boot. It was coming toward him in the full arc of a fast kick. Rod caught it and twisted. He was slightly surprised when the ankle turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees. The guard fell heavily. He’d gotten to his feet, blaster in hand, when they rushed him. With a savage grin, Rod let go. It was good to put electronic slugs in the advancing guards. A small return payment for the slave who had glowed to his death! Rod wasn’t sure but what his eyes were playing him tricks. He swore the guard was still coming at him. The one with the hole in him! Only the unmasked tetrarch was inert on the floor. He aimed carefully and let go again. The guard was still coming. The lights went out entirely. Rod blasted four times in quick succession, then jumped and twisted sidewise to the floor. As a feint it did him little good. The guards were up, on him--including the one with five holes in his carcass. Rod was held in a vise-like grip while they kicked the blaster out of his hand and zipped a space suit over his frame. As he was hustled out of the compartment he heard Rickter’s voice. “I’m sorry, Rod. But I guess it’s useless--and I couldn’t have helped you. I’ll be twenty-five next month!” “I’ll be twenty-five myself,” Rod yelled back. “We’ll have a swell birthday party.” The last sound he heard was Mona’s hysterical laughter.