Mertaan took a key from the front of his jacket. "There is one or more Baserites in every cell of this block. Each has a key that will unlock his cell. The Baserite war fleet comes over soon. When we hear the whine of the ships, we strike. Are you with us?" "We could hardly be with the Ptomenites." Mertaan eyed Nicko suspiciously. "Is the strange one also with us?" "Just wait and find out!" Nicko said. * * * * * The Baserite turned even grimmer of face. "I am taking no chances. This plan must work. My brother just died down there in their reeking vat--" Mike was astounded. "You mean you had a key? You could send the whole cell block to his rescue? But you let him die?" Ice glazed over the pain in the Baserite's eyes. "There is much more at stake here than one life. A nation. The time was not right. I had hoped my brother would be spared a few minutes longer but it was not to be." Mike marveled anew. Truly--these Baserites were men of iron will. "When?" Mike asked grimly. "Soon." Mertaan took a small, strange-looking weapon from his pocket. It resembled a pistol enough to be identified as such. "I wish I could offer you arms, but smuggling them in was very risky. What few we have are in the hands of picked warriors." Sweat was standing out on Mike's brow. "Never mind the guns. I just hope it's soon. The next one to go into that vat is a girl who--" The Baserite's eyes filled with quick sympathy. "One of you, my friend?" "One of us." "I can only hope the ships come first." Mike licked his dry lips. "But if they don't--you say you have some guns--the keys." He was looking at the Baserite with fixed calculation, his thoughts transparent. Mertaan had no difficulty in divining them. "We cannot move until the ships come. If you strive to change this I shall kill you swiftly and silently. I shall kill everyone in the cell to ensure silence." Mike's look remained fixed. He knew he did not have the courage to watch Doree die horribly when there was a key and a weapon within his reach. He deliberately forced the cold look from his face but whether the Baserite's suspicion was lulled, he could not tell. Mertaan smiled coldly and said, "There is another of your kind in the cell block." * * * * * Mike took a step forward, but the Baserite stepped warily back. "An old man?" Mike asked. "A very old man. He is four cells down. We know nothing of him because no one can speak his language." Professor Brandon! Mike sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. "He will be released when the time comes?" "If he chooses. None will be forced to go against their wishes, but I cannot imagine anyone refusing." Mike turned to the bars gripping them hard. Several priests were working ghoulishly over the body of the dead Baserite. Mike looked toward the various entrances to the pit. Through which of these would they bring Doree? He prayed that none of the doors would open.