"We don't leave here until Guerlan returns!" Her lips were white, but the sheer determination written in her lovely face, held even Bejamel who was taken aback.
"Guerlan! Are you mad, Perlac? That barbarian's below on the planet's surface!"
"On the contrary," the robot-proctor spoke in a voice leaden with fatigue, "I'm here, Bejamel." Slowly he emerged from the enclosing plastic shell of what had been a robot, then let the huge, hollow plastic man fall clattering to the spacer's floor. Silently he searched the ex-Minister of Justice, who seemed transfixed by a vast surprise. From under Bejamel's arm-pit, Guerlan took a hidden electro-flash, and a venom-tipped dagger concealed in a fold of his tunic. Having drawn his fangs, he smiled. "We can blast off now ... but not for Venus!"
Majestically, Bejamel turned to Perlac with an inscrutable smile. He gazed at the girl in a mixture of bitterness and admiration:
"You're indeed my daughter!" he said at last. Then to Guerlan: "What do you propose to do with me?"
"Keep you on Neptune," Guerlan replied bluntly. "Utilize your vast knowledge of jurisprudence, and your personal and intimate knowledge of the thousands of scientists who are certain to surrender sooner or later. Human beings have inalienable rights, rights that we propose to return to them. But unfortunately, it will not be easy to give freedom to those who have never known what freedom is. We will need all the science and power of mind available. So, Bejamel, we must use you—under our supervision, of course. You see, even the venom of a cobra is eminently useful, if handled right!"
They eyed each other, these two. Both powerful, dominating intellects, both capable of profound emotions. It was the older man, who used to the devious ways of the Sphere and His Benevolence's court, yielded gracefully. Bejamel glanced at Estrella, and it occurred to him that whatever years of life remained to him would be sweet if she were at his side. At that instant, a vast tremor shook the gigantic city of the Sphere, and Bejamel's eyes went wide.
Seated at the controls, Guerlan turned slightly to Bejamel. "Give your Intermediates orders to open the lock and activate the catapult—we have minutes, perhaps only seconds, before the Sphere gives under the gravity pull. Make your choice, or I give the ship full power and crash through the airlock, Bejamel!" Guerlan's voice was cold, impassive.
"I shall give the order," Bejamel assented in a brittle voice.