Rusty, following the Venusian in the small door, saw Spike leap at the man. He could not make them out in the darkness. As he jumped down, he heard a quickly throttled groan. Spike appeared again. "Get in! Quick!" Shouts and the sound of running feet came toward them. Lothar was already inside. Rusty climbed in. Spike slammed the heavy door. No sound came through the insulated walls but as they paused for breath the room grew rapidly warm--hot. "They're raying the door!" cried Rusty. He had seen it done in many a police raid. The plate glowed to a red heat, melted to a puddle. They sprang aside. "Come out!" commanded a toneless voice. "We've got you!" Rusty ran to the left, the others to the right. He tried the door to the next room. It was locked. The others had disappeared into the forward compartments, the door closed behind them. Rusty no longer felt fear nor panic. He was an animal now, fighting to live. He silently crept to the side of the seared hole in the hull. A dim glow of light entered from the field. A sleek vib-ray poked its long nose in the doorway. Rusty waited. The gun was followed by an arm. A man came into view. His skin was red, Martian. He climbed into the ship, followed by six more. Rusty crouched in the darkness, holding his breath. They stood in the dim light, peering warily about. There had been nine at the station, Rusty remembered. Spike had gotten one. Where was the other? But they would discover him in a moment. Rusty moved swiftly. He snatched a rifle from the nearest man. With the same movement, brought the stock upward, smashed it into the crimson face. The others whirled. Rusty leveled the vib-ray at them. They stared and their guns clattered to the floor. Slowly, their hands raised. "Spike!" yelled Rusty. The door opened and the Earthian peered out. Lothar and the Venusian crowded behind him. "What's the best ship here?" Rusty demanded of the tight-lipped Martians. There was no answer. What did one do when one had a gun, wanted a man to speak and he wouldn't? Spike entered the room. "I'll make 'em talk!" he said. He picked up a fallen gun, and before Rusty could stop him had fired into the group. Four men died to show Rusty what one did. The answers of the remaining three were as specific as they were hasty. "Shall I finish 'em off?" asked Spike, amused. Rusty moved to stop him. "Shall I finish you off?" said a voice at the door. "Don't turn around! Stay where you are!" The missing man, thought Rusty. His heart did not leap at the sudden voice. He had grown to expect these things. Would he soon laugh at death as did Spike? The Martians inside smirked, bent for their guns. Rusty was looking at Spike. What would _he_ do? And Spike was not slow in acting. His gun was still leveled at the stooping men. His face did not change as flame shot from the barrel. In utter bravado, Spike rayed them down. Darted swiftly back against the wall out of the line of fire.