The important Old Companions assembled in what was intended to be the scientists' main living room, a section of the wheel lined with fold-up bunks and empty tv screens. From what little knowledge I had of the theory of the space station, I could identify the air purification system's tubes, the emergency geiger counters, the oxygen vents and, through a partly-open locker door, a space suit. The tv screens were either for communication within the ship or connected with the cameras that would be trained on Terra 24 hours a day. "Where are the others?" Bill Cuff asked Howard. "The other scientists?" "Throughout the wheel." "Good. They won't be hurt. You're all going to come in handy for us; three of our experts were killed on that field," said Cuff, his face dark and his teeth clenched so tightly I could hear them grind together. "Who the hell planned that suicidal charge?" I asked. "Our leader," said Skagarach drily. "Mister Cuff." * * * * * The primal rage, my last hope, welled and subsided in Cuff as plainly as mercury in a thermometer. With what must have been a really superb effort he said in a quiet voice to Howard, "I'll fill you in, cousin, on what's happening," and proceeded to do so concisely and accurately. Howard became pale, but bending forward he followed Cuff with attention and didn't open his mouth until Cuff had finished. Then he said just two words. "My God!" He looked at me. "And you're with them?" he asked. "What else? I have the dark blood," I said. He made as if to say something, and then looked at Cuff. "So do you," Bill told him. Skagarach said, "I think Summers has been killed. Milo is being shelled with mortars, but his muster is winning. We should have the three-stage rockets here within half an hour." The other scientists, five men ranging from thirty to fifty years old, had been brought in by Neanderthals. Cuff glanced at them now and then said to Howard, "I want you to take us on a tour of the station immediately. I want you to show me and Skagarach, and our technical officers, exactly how everything is worked, from the H-bomb launchers to the refuse outlets. Eventually you'll come over to us, Howard; but for now you've got to show us under pressure, I realize." His eye roamed the room. He pointed to the tallest scientist, a man nearly as bulky as Bill Cuff himself. "What's his job?" "Communications technician," said Howard blankly. On the words, Cuff was out of his chair, hurtling across the room; he shot his great arms out and gripped the astounded scientist by the throat and the top of his head. Whirling, he flying-mared the man over his shoulder, and as the scientist's heavy frame nearly touched the floor, Cuff perked upward again, so that the whole body was snapped like a blacksnake whip. There was a terrible cracking sound and the man's form went limp. Cuff dropped the body to the floor and stepped over it.