"Yes." He glanced from face to face in the growing silence. "A very simple plan. But I like to think it will work...." II Curt Emmons paused in his cautious stride. With a supernal sense of keening, he knew he was not alone in the darkness. He threw his shoulders aside. The _energast_ recoil was no more than a soft sigh, but the beam passed so close to Curt's face he could feel the swirling heat of it. With a muffled cry, Curt let himself crumple and fall. The muscles of his broad shoulders went tight as he pressed against the hard prison pavement. Weaponless, he realized his only chance was the element of surprise! He saw a darker shadow detach itself from the wall and come toward him. A lone Guard. The man stared down for a moment, then, relaxed, bent over the prone figure. Curt propelled himself upward. With an oath the Guard tried to leap back, bring the _energast_ into position. Curt clawed for the gun wrist. His fingers tightened. The Guard was Jovian, Curt realized in an instant of panic. His other hand found the wrist, his feet moved swiftly, then he threw all his strength into the leverage. Bone snapped, and the seven-foot bulk sailed backward into the wall. But Curt knew these Jovians! He leaped forward as the Guard tried to rise, brought his knee up under the chin with a sickening crunch. Blood bubbled from the man's lips. Curt sprang upon him, thrust an open hand into his face. He brought the other hand in a vicious, slicing blow across the hard throat muscles. The Jovian plunged forward and lay still. Curt came to his feet, breathing heavily. It seemed unbelievable that other Guards were not attracted to the scene! But all he heard was the steady, hollow sound of the pumps supplying air to the Prison Dome. He groped for the _energast_ gun, but couldn't find it now. There was no time to waste! He hurried forward, keeping one hand outstretched against the wall. He sought to pierce the darkness ahead. A few minutes later he paused again, as another figure loomed. Curt wished now that he'd found the gun, but it was too late for that! "Emmons?..." Curt let out a slow breath of relief as the whisper came to him. He hurried forward to greet another Earthman. "You're late," the second man said. "What happened?" "A little trouble. How about the helmets? Get them?" "Wouldn't be here otherwise!" "The Martian. Did he make it?" "Yeah, but I don't see why _he_--" "Never mind that, Rikert," Curt snapped. "Let's go." They reached one of the gates. The Martian was waiting. Curt stumbled over another Guard, but this one was dead. A tiny _bak_-glass needle protruded from his throat. "We had some trouble too," Rikert explained. Curt wondered which of them had the needle-gun, but he said nothing. When they had donned the oxygen-helmets, Curt produced a triggered electronic key.