“They almost killed me,” the whimpering slave was trembling.
“Oh, Jerry!”
“I hope we win them over.”
“I know now that’s the only way.” The girl looked about her furtively, “I’ve been talking to Latham Koler....”
Rod swung his pick with a vicious twist and unearthed a red cloud of Mercury oxide. His reaction boiled like the crimson dust as it mingled with the swirling sand in the tunnel. When he’d gotten control of himself he spoke flatly.
“A man just died here,” he said. “Don’t taint his death with a traitor’s name.”
“Latham Koler’s not a traitor!” the girl flashed. “At least he has enough influence to get some of us out of the mines.”
Rod eyed her angrily. The memory of the human torch ripped words from him.
“We’re humans! Remember? From Earth! There was a time when a human from Earth would prefer dying to licking a conqueror’s boots!”
Mona shrugged her shoulders. She swung a pick on a gryxon outcropping. “That may be,” she said briefly, “but we’re slaves now. And we die within a day or so of our twenty-fifth birthday. If Latham Koler can get Jerry out of the mines,” Mona indicated the youth by her side, “I’ll mention his name—I’ll do anything—if Jerry can be saved.”