The Swamja was incredibly strong. His mouth gaped at Vanning's throat. With an agile twist, the detective wrenched himself away, but by that time there was a gun leveled at his head. A wave of blazing agony blasted through Vanning's body--and was instantly gone. The weapon had not been turned up to the killing power. The Swamja twisted the barrel with one finger, making the necessary adjustment. But Vanning hadn't been idle. His hands crossed over the gun, wrenched savagely. There was a crack of breaking bone, and the Swamja croaked in agony, his fingers broken. He wasn't conquered--no! Ignoring what must have been sickening pain, he threw his arms around Vanning and squeezed till the breath rushed from the human's lungs. The detective felt himself losing consciousness. It was impossible to break that steel grip-- Once more the fangs gaped at his throat. Vanning summoned his waning strength. His left hand gripped the monster's lower jaw, his right hand the upper. Sharp teeth ripped his fingers. He did not feel them, nor the foul, gusting breath that blew hot on his sweating face. He wrenched viciously, dragging the creature's mouth wide open--and wider yet! A hoarse roar bubbled from the Swamja's throat. There was a sharp crack, and the malformed body twisted convulsively. The mighty arms tightened, nearly breaking Vanning's back. Then--they relaxed. The Swamja lay still, his spine snapped. Vanning staggered up, hearing a roaring in his ears. It wasn't imagination. Across the square, monstrous figures came racing, shouting harshly--Swamja, dozens of them! "Vanning!" Hobbs' voice croaked. On the ground, three figures were wrestling in a contorted mass--Zeeth and Hobbs and the remaining Swamja. The monster was conquering. His bulging eyes glared with mad fury. Great muscles stood out on his gnarled arms as he tore at his opponents. With a choking curse Vanning snatched up the gun his late enemy had dropped and sprang forward. His aim was good. The Swamja's eyes went dull as the destroying charge short-circuited his nerves. The racing Swamja were dangerously close as Vanning bent, tearing at the monster's mighty hands. Useless! He pressed his gun-muzzle into the Swamja's arm-pit and fired and fired again. Presently one arm writhed free. Vanning seized the two men, literally tore them from the creature's grip. "The port!" Vanning gasped. "Get into--the ship!" Hobbs lifted Zeeth and staggered around the bow. As Vanning turned to follow, he saw the slim body of Lysla lying motionless on the ground, in the path of the racing Swamja. He sprinted forward, scooped up the girl in one motion, and swerved back, running as though all hell were at his heels. A croaking yell went up. Sickening pain lanced through Vanning, and he nearly fell. But the shock, though agonizing, wasn't permanent. Legs afire, the detective rounded the ship's bow and saw a circular hole gaping in the corroded hull.