The voice of the blond man spoke softly but it was clearly audible in the quiet room. "Good-bye, Vee," he said. "Stop!" cried Rod. He shot to the platform, knocked the lancet from the hand of the nearest machine. The Capeks turned in obvious astonishment. "What is the meaning of this!" demanded one. Then his voice changed to incredulity. "You have no number--" The next step was unconsidered. He had been finally found out. And he could not let these people die. It did not matter what happened to him. He reached out, snapped the suspension switch upon the shell of the Capek who had spoken. The machine drooped instantly. Another clutched his arm and Rod whirled upon him. His strength was as yet untested and he wondered how powerful he really was. He snapped his arm from the grasp, flicked down and caught the machine by its carriage. Easily lifting the wriggling Capek over his head, he flung the thing through the air. It crashed into the far wall with an explosion of shattered machinery. Another rushed at him, arms rearing. Rod caught one of the metal bars and tore it from its socket. With his other hand he grasped the neck cable of a near Capek, pulled out its single eye. He was rapidly learning to fight with his new powers and he tore into the rest with a clash of steel against steel. The machine with the severed neck was flailing the air blindly. Rod grabbed another and hurled it into the eyeless one. The last machine raised a broken leg-bar and swung it at Rod's eye. He dodged and the metal struck his right arm, splintered it. The tendrils dangled, useless. Rod caught the Capek with his other, whipped it into the wall. Broken parts littered the floor, reddish fluid seeping from crushed shells. He turned to see the one-armed machine fleeing from the room, out the door before he could pursue. He would warn the others. And he had but one arm now.... * * * * * Rod turned to the men and the woman upon the slabs. Their eyes were wide. He felt a choking sorrow as he looked at them, helpless there, and he thought of the others outside in the compound, equally as helpless and doomed to a fate such as he had saved these. But had he saved them? The room would be filled with avenging Capeks in a moment. Hurriedly, he loosened the straps which bound them. "We must go quickly; he will bring others!" he said. They sat up, still staring. "What are you?" asked the blond one. "I am Rod Carver. I come from that age of freedom which your ancestors cherished." He saw them look to his machine body and back to his eye, unbelieving. He struck his shell with a tendril. "One of them did this to me--put my brain here. I escaped before the _idea_ was given." They said nothing and the girl moved to the light-haired man, put an arm upon his shoulder. The stocky one stared at Rod with poignant eyes; his arms hung limply with the quiet reserve of strength.