A moment of sullen hesitation. Then: "Just two--the girl, and one of us to keep track of her." "For your sake, I hope you're not lying." Ross' words held a flat, deadly ring. "Now get this straight: you've finally captured me. But you had to knock me out to do it, so you're carrying me back to the ship." And then, to the nearest of the prisoners: "You! Put that on your hand-amp. Tell the woman about it, strong enough for her to believe it." Eyes still on Ross' blaster, the man obeyed. Ross smiled thinly. "Let's go." Sullenly, his two prisoners heaved up their green-tunicked, still-unconscious chief between them and, shuffling and stumbling, carried him out of the outcrop's rocky maze to the dusty, windswept spread of sandy waste beyond. Ross moved with them, but with face averted. He maneuvered, too, to keep the others between him and the cruiser. Then, at last, they were climbing the dune on which the ship stood ramped ... angling up the final slope and pausing beneath the shining metal hull, out of view of the open hatchway above. Ross said, "Lie down, you two!" "Lie down--?" Panic flared in the eyes of the man nearest him. "So you can blast us, you mean? No--" He lunged as he spoke. But Ross was already moving, swinging up the blaster's butt in a hard, fast blow to the other's head. The man dropped. Hastily, his companion stretched out as ordered. "Stay there," Ross clipped. Then, incredibly cool, he turned to the ladder and, head tilted forward to hide his face, climbed swiftly towards the hatchway. Above him, Veta Hall spoke, her voice no longer marred by the amplifier's distortion: "You really did get him, Igor? Alive, not dead--?" But her tone told nothing of how she felt about it. Ross mumbled incoherently, not slowing his climb. "Will you need a sling to lift him, Igor?"--A male voice, this one. Another guttural mumble. Ross' chin scraped his chest, he was holding his head so far forward. A hand touched his shoulder. "Speak up, Igor! I can't understand--" Ross gripped the sill of the hatchway. His head came up--teeth bared, eyes blazing. In one lunge, he slammed through the open port, bowling Veta Hall aside. The next instant he ricocheted into a gaping, goggle-eyed rowdy who held a spanner in one hand, a vortane-tube in the other. The man swung the spanner in a wild arc. Ross ducked under it. Savagely, he drove an elbow into the other's side, in the soft-fleshed belt between hip and ribs. Goggle-eyes gave an anguished shallow-breathed gasp. Rising almost on tiptoe, he tottered forward three or four uncertain steps, then slumped in a heap on the floor. When the woman tried to snatch up the fallen spanner, Ross kicked it out of her hand with such violence that she cowered back against the wall, moaning and clutching her bruised fingers. Paying her no heed, Ross doubled back to the hatch and spun the control-wheel. The vault-like door sang on its screw-locks. In seconds, all entry was barred.