It was a strikingly different group of beings whom Gary now spoke to than those to whom he had addressed his plea on Earth three short days ago. The Venusians were human. Upon his conquest of space, man had discovered--somewhat to his surprise and more than a little to the chagrin of the ethnologists who had predicted otherwise--that nowhere (in the solar galaxy at least) had risen to planetary supremacy any race of creatures other than that represented by _Homo sapiens_. But where on Earth of the Twenty-third century white, or Caucasian, man was the acknowledged cultural leader of his planet, here on Venus the situation was reversed. The planetary overlords were dark-skinned men of magnificent figure and intellect. The planet embraced only a minority of the white and yellow-skinned races. And these, when found, were for the most part centuries deeper in barbarism and savagery than were the negroid rulers of the planet. To the bafflement of science, laboratory research had proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that these Venusians bore a fundamental kinship with the dark-skinned races of Earth. Blood plasma, hair structure, and other physiological phenomena proved Earth's dark children were more nearly related to the Venusians than to their own terrestrial brethren. All this Gary Lane had known in advance. So it was with no surprise he addressed himself to the Venusian court. He did, however, despite the intensity of his purpose, in some dim recess of his mind find time to marvel that the racial characteristics of the colored men, sometimes mildly amusing at home, were here lifted and dignified by universal usage to a station of high importance. The great vaulted Council chamber, with its curving spires and gaudily tinted walls; the bright colored raiment, the elaborate equipage and formality with which the Venusians embellished their pomp, on Earth might have exacted derision. Here they seemed the normal, the true and graceful and cultured thing. * * * * * And if there was a certain childlike love of color and circumstances in the Venusian heart, it was no juvenile attention the Venusian overlords turned upon Lane's words. They listened carefully and thoughtfully to what he had to say, then conferred briefly amongst themselves. Finally their Chief Councillor turned to him. "Your story is fantastic, but there is a certain ominous ring of truth in its telling. Still we do not quite understand. Why have you come to Venus? What would you have of us?" "One of the four things," answered Gary, "requisite to our escaping our own solar galaxy that we may seek the cause which threatens to bring about our doom. We need from you--_fuel_. Sufficient stores of precious _neurotrope_, which only your planet produces. It is the only fuel with great enough power in small enough quantity to serve our purposes." "And how much," asked the Venusian spokesman, "of this fuel would you need?" "A minimum of five thousand tons."