Several men passed, wearing the gray coveralls of his captors, and obviously a landing space ship was not unusual for they gave them no more than a passing glance. They stared at Molly Borden, of course. But then she would have attracted attention in the Shangri-la where dead nymphs go. "This way," said Hines, and led them across the field, past a center tripod toward the factories. Ricker had never seen the Adison unit before but he knew this must be it. Like steel columns, heat held back Neptune's sunless cold, forced a rigid hollow inside the living ice. Hines and the woman walked ahead. Ricker followed with Gurren a few paces behind him. Neither of his guards drew their strange-looking guns and Ricker also knew that escape was impossible. It would be like trying to get out of a box buried in a block of concrete. And he was no Houdini.... A few yards into the canyons of the seething city and Hines stopped. "This is your room for the time being." He grinned at Molly Borden like a school boy at the teacher. He waited beside an open door which led into a living compartment of some sort. "If there's anything you wish--" Next door stood a building from which droned a low monotonous chatter, the hum of a transmitter, the crackle of static. On the roof towered two poles from which hung a long radio antenna. An idea akin to suicide suddenly quickened Ricker's pulse. "Thank you," the woman said to Hines who, since Vanger left, was rapidly becoming a two-bit cavalier on his own. Ricker glanced at Gurren out of the corner of his eye. He was also gulping in the beauty of the Venusian. If that radio room was only empty! thought Ricker. If he could make it in time--get the door closed-- "Perhaps I should see if everything's all right," said Gurren, reluctant to leave. As Hines frowned nastily, he took Molly Borden's arm, started into the room with her. Like a fleeing deer, Ricker suddenly streaked away. A shout behind him. The door wasn't ten feet ahead. A hot white blast whizzed past his left shoulder. The door frame glowed red, steamed. Ricker dived through the door. * * * * * He caught the door as he went through, slammed it shut behind him. A man whirled around from a mass of instruments. In that split second all Ricker saw was the man's startled face, his hand snatching a pistol from his belt. Ricker leaped for him as from a catapult, brought up a swift short right. Smack! The fellow fell back into a bank of scattered dials. Ricker jerked the gun from his hand as he sagged to the floor. Without another glance at him, he leaped to the transmitter. It was an ordinary radio outfit but apparently of tremendous power. He snapped the sending switch, kept his eyes fused to the door. "Come out, Ricker!" It was Gurren's voice. "We'll burn you through the door!"