Inside the Spacer, with the air-lock closed, Luhor turned to the waiting men. His rumbling voice rose commandingly. "Anyone with weapons, whatever they are, throw them on the floor before you; if you refuse, or we have to search you and find them, you'll be dropped through the air-lock into the swamp. Choose!"
The absolute cold finality of his tone left no doubt. A veritable arsenal of sharpened rocks, crude metal knives, and bent wires coated with deadly poison from Venusian plants, showered down.
"All through?" The half-breed's purple eyes ranged down the line of men, as if he could see into their minds. There was a moment of silence, then one of the men hesitantly dropped an outmoded heat-gun, old-fashioned but deadly. Luhor's eyebrows went up, and he smiled thinly. "All right," he told a member of the crew, "gather up this junk and toss it out. You new men follow me. First you'll sluice off the mud and put on some decent clothes. Afterwards you'll see the Commander; and," he added, "the Commander will see you!" A fleeting smile hovered on his lips as if he had a little joke all his own.
Mark was amazed at the spaciousness of the ship, and at the luxury of its appointments. It was apparent at once that this was no ordinary Spacer, for it was a fighting craft as well—a long, slim torpedo of death modern beyond anything he'd ever seen. He only obtained a glimpse of a few of the craft's weapons, but they looked formidable enough to tackle anything the Tri-Planetary ships could muster. He tried not to appear too curious, however; he knew that just now his best bet was to look dazed and docile.
He glanced around for Aladdo, but the little Venusian had disappeared. Mark wasn't too surprised. He was satisfied to know that Aladdo was on the ship, and that eventually he would appear.
The men scrubbed themselves with soap under needles of warm water, and achieved cleanliness for the first time in many months. Dressed in clean trousers and tunics, they were ready at last to go before the Commander. The men moved restlessly and whispered among themselves. None knew where they were going, or why. They only knew that a miracle had happened and they had been delivered from the great swamp. It didn't occur to any of them as yet that there could be a situation even remotely as bad as their living death in the swamp.
One by one, they were called, as they waited in the ship's comfortable leisure-room. At its far end was an automatic beryllium door, and as each man's name was called through an amplifier, the door would open to permit a man to go through. Already nine men had passed through, and none had emerged.
Mark could hardly restrain his impatience. Behind that door was the solution of a great mystery—a mystery which had grown in importance beyond anything the Prison Bureau officials had dreamed of, Mark realized, considering the perilous super-efficiency of this spaceship, now speeding away from Venus!