In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He fired blindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The soft throb of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd. Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. But there seemed to be an endless number of them. "Vee Vee?" Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She had slid out of his sight. "Vee Vee!" Johnson's voice became a shout. "To hell with the woman!" Caldwell grunted. "Martin's the important one." Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went. Johnson followed. * * * * * A voice boomed through the room, in Venusian. "Let movement stop!" At the sound of that voice the Venusians stopped all motion. Again the voice boomed through the room. "Bring the human to me." The voice came from Unger. The knot of Venusians around the human came back to life. A knife flashed. "Bring him to me unharmed!" Unger boomed. The knife went hastily out of sight. The knot of Venusians came untangled. They carried a struggling human down the ramps toward the bottom of the pit. "It's Martin!" Caldwell shouted. "Let's knock these Venusians over, grab him, and break for the door." "Hold it," Johnson said. "It may not be that easy. We will go with them to Unger." Carrying Martin to the bottom of the pit, the Venusians set him on his feet. Martin was tall, dark-haired, a slender length of living, nervous whipcord. His hair was tousled, his clothing torn. As Martin came to his feet, Johnson saw that blood was running down one side of his face. Unger was standing erect. His 300 pounds radiated anger, rage, hate. "Dreamer, he had a thing which the humans call a camera or a recorder." The speaker, an elderly Venusian, was outraged. He jerked a knife from its scabbard. "Dreamer, allow me the privilege of slitting his throat!" He held the knife high, awaiting only the signal to plunge it into Martin's neck. A fierce throb of anger seemed to flow through the Room of the Dreaming. "All things in their time," Unger said. "Do you hold your knife for now." The fingers of the Venusian trembled as he slipped the knife back into its scabbard. "Dreamer, I obey. But remember, when the time comes, the privilege is mine. I spoke first!" Hot anger sounded in the Venusian's voice. "It will be remembered, Taldero," Unger said. He lifted his gaze. "Bring me this camera, this thing that the human was using." A Venusian carried the camera down the steps and handed it to Unger. While the Venusians had never denied humans entry to the dreaming rooms, any kind of a camera or other recording device had always been strictly forbidden. Neither argument, persuasion nor offers of payment had ever moved a Dreamer to permit the recording of a dream performance. Under his breath, Johnson cursed. The recorder was evidence that could not be denied. "The fool!" Johnson cursed.