"No need to thank me, middle order, I would have missed our discussions had you gone." The Venusian grinned impishly.
"What? I've been promoted! You must be ill, to call me anything above a 'lower order' or a 'sub-species'!" Mark smiled too, but seriously wondered what crime had condemned Aladdo to a prison reserved only for the most hardened and hopeless criminals, or for political prisoners whose existence was a threat to the Tri-Planetary League.
"At times, you're almost intelligent," the Venusian replied placidly. "Any one of these other men would have struggled had they been in your place, and I would have been helpless."
"Why didn't you use your brain," Mark couldn't resist prodding the other, "and by flying above me, get to me quicker, instead of crawling all that distance?"
The winged figure laughed mirthlessly, and for an answer held up its arms. The azure membranes that were its wings, hung in limp folds.
"Useless, you see," he said quietly. "The tendons have been cut. Otherwise I could fly up and out of this swamp, despite its five hundred mile width."
Mark could find no words to say. Since being assigned at his own request to this last grim haven of the damned, by the Tri-Planetary Prison Bureau, on a special mission, there had been moments when the horror of it all had made him doubt the wisdom of maintaining such a ghastly place. He knew, of course, the tremendous deterrent influence its existence exerted, besides the important revenue derived from Venusian pearls; still it all seemed too inhuman.
"You don't seem criminal, Earthman!" the cello-like voice introduced on Mark's thoughts. "I fail to catch the typical vibrations of the killers and ravagers. Your crime ... was it political?"
"Why, yes!" Mark assented hurriedly. It wouldn't do for this Venusian to suspect he was an operative. "To put it briefly, I am classified as too individualistic for the new order of 'controlled endeavor'. Also typed as irreconcilable—and you know what that means!"