"This puts a new light on the situation. Don't do anything rash until we decide just how this affects our position; our plans will certainly need modification. I'll be in the market for ideas all morning; we'll have a general discussion meeting after dinner." He turned away from the edge and walked back toward the doorway. * * * * * Denham had long since been coached in his part; he played it without a hitch. The load of refuse and the tank of geletane were tossed into the elevator; the three men followed. No guards entered; since the departure of their ship they had concentrated on guarding the lower doors rather than preventing the prisoners from wandering about the fort. Little slid the door of the cage closed and touched the button next to the top, and Arthur took the welder from his pocket. Slow as it was, the car took but a few seconds to reach the next level. It stopped; Little looked at his companions and slid open the door, at the same instant opening the valve of his gas tank. The three dashed into the corridor and toward the office, handkerchiefs pressed over their mouths and noses. Two pentapods stood at the open door of the communication room. They swept instantly toward the approaching men, but must have conversed with others inside the room even in that time, for three more emerged after them. Fast as the men were running, the gas diffused ahead of them; and the rearmost guards, who were moving more slowly than the others were paradoxically, the first to go down under the invisible attack. The others heard them fall, deduced the cause, presumably held their breath--and dropped as though shot. The men hurtled into the room, Little still leading, and found it empty. Evidently the communication officers had joined the guards and, confident of their ability to overcome three human beings, had not even sounded an alarm. Leo Dennis leaped toward a mass of equipment that was all too plainly of recent installation; Little reversed his motion, snatched the welder from Arthur's hand, and darted back through the door. "I'll look after this end," he said, "and saturate the air in the corridor while I'm at it. I'm more used to gas and can probably avoid its effects longer than you, Art." He slid the metal portal shut with a clang, tossed the still-open gas cylinder across the hall, and set to work with the welder. He jumped up and down, kicking, dancing, and waving his free arm as he worked; but the hand holding the torch remained steady.