Greg leaped forward, stared at the screen. Russ heard his smothered cry of rage. In Wrail's forehead was a tiny, neatly drilled hole from which a single drop of blood oozed. "Murdered!" exclaimed Russ. "Yes, murdered," said Greg, and there was a sudden calmness in his voice. Russ grasped the televisor control. Ranthoor's streets ran beneath them, curiously silent and deserted. Here and there lay bodies. A few shop windows were smashed. But the only living that stirred was a dog that slunk across the street and into the shadows of an alley. Swiftly the televisor swung along the streets. Straight into the screen clanked a marching detail of government police, herding before them a half dozen prisoners. The men had their hands bound behind their backs, but they walked with heads held high. "Revolution," gasped Russ. "Not a revolution. A purge. Stutsman is clearing the city of all who might be dangerous to him. This will be happening on every other planet where Chambers holds control." Perspiration ran down Russ's forehead and dripped into his eyes as he manipulated the controls. "Stutsman is striking first," said Greg, calmly ... far too calmly. "He's consolidating his position, possibly on the pretense that plots have been discovered." A few buildings were bombed. A line of bodies were crumpled at the foot of a steel wall, marking the spot where men had been lined up and mowed down with one sweeping blast from a heater. Russ turned the television controls. "Let's see about Venus and Mars." The scenes in Ranthoor were duplicated in Sandebar on Mars, in New Chicago, the capital of Venus. Everywhere Stutsman had struck ... everywhere the purge was wiping out in blood every person who might revolt against the Chambers-dictated governments. Throughout the Solar System violence was on the march, iron-shod boots trampling the rights of free men to tighten the grip of Interplanetary. * * * * * In the control room of the _Invincible_ the two men stared at one another. "There's one man we need," said Greg. "One man, if he's still alive, and I think he is." "Who is that?" asked Russ. "John Moore Mallory," said Greg. "Where is he?" "I don't know. He was imprisoned in Ranthoor, but Stutsman transferred him some place else. Possibly to one of the prison fleet." "If we had the records of the Callisto prison," suggested Russ, "we could find out." "If we had the records ..." "We'll get them!" Russ said. He swung back to the keyboard again. A moment later the administration offices of the prison were on the screen. The two men searched the vision plate. "The records are most likely in that vault," said Russ. "And the vault is locked." "Don't worry about the lock," snapped Greg. "Just bring the whole damn thing here--vault and records and all."