Sitting inside, Marten waited patiently. The Flesso had been wanting to capture an Earthman for a long time. Well, now they'd succeeded. They'd captured their first Earth ship. Suddenly, Marten's damped communicator screen came back to life. A scaly, toad-like face appeared, and Marten stared blandly at the three red-rimmed, fiery eyes that confronted him. "I see you are still alive, Earthman!" "No thanks to you, ugly-face!" Marten returned. "I'm hungry, though. Am I going to stay for dinner, or can I leave now?" Earth and Fless had long been in communication with each other; the war had lasted for nearly five years, ever since the first treacherous Flesso sneak attack on a Terran outpost. The beings from the planet Fless were the coldest, most dangerous aliens Earth had yet encountered in its expansion to the stars. During the war, neither side had succeeded in capturing one of the other's men alive. The ravening energies of a billion-cycle space gun tore a ship completely apart, leaving no survivors. But now Marten had been captured--and he was determined to make the most of it. "Keep your tongue!" the toad-faced Fless snarled. "Do you know who I am?" "Santa Claus? Uncle Sam? The Wicked Witch of the North?" The alien's face radiated hatred. "I am Ghuvekenkh-Nathor!" Marten whistled. Ghuvek, eh? He had really stumbled into a good one, then. Ghuvek was the leader of the Flesso legions! "Hello, Ghuvek. The pleasure is all mine. Do I _have_ to keep looking at your face?" "You will surrender or die," Ghuvek said, ignoring the barb. Marten chuckled. "Okay. Come and get me, ugly!" He reached out and snapped off the communicator decisively. Without waiting to see what would happen next, he sprang from the control seat. The Flesso were going to expect to find him inside the little scout ship. Very well, Marten thought. That's the one place I _won't_ be. Smiling grimly, he strapped on a pair of bulky Spaulding cutter-pistols, and headed for the escape hatch. The aliens, he knew, would be watching the main airlock--they wouldn't be expecting a second exit, and, if they were, they wouldn't know exactly where it would be. Silently, Marten dropped through the hatch at the rear of the ship. _Come and get me_, he thought. _I'm ready._ * * * * * He found himself in a large metal room that measured well over a hundred feet in width and twice that in length. The ceiling, dimly-seen, was far overhead, beyond any quick estimation. Crouching in the shadow of his ship, Marten watched a platoon of the loathsome Flesso bring a heavy, semi-portable burner up to the airlock. The reptilian aliens were having quite a time with the weapon; there was much hissing and flicking of tails as they got it in position. Finally, they managed to train the muzzle on the door, and then pressed the firing studs. A dazzling blue-white glare leaped toward the airlock door.