The hours passed. A deadly quiet had come over the city, not even broken now by the monotonous hum of the atomic furnaces. It was "night"; their wall lights had automatically dimmed, but outside the bluish light from Phobos' walls was all-pervading.
Ric, Praana and Tal Horan did not sleep. But the guards outside had been doubled, and they were alert, patrolling the corridors ceaselessly. Occasionally one of the guards stopped to look in upon them.
"Your people will not die, Praana," Ric told her. "I'll convince the Council to do as Gorak says. Later, perhaps, they can find the way to deal with him."
"No! His first move would be to order the surrender of their entire Fleet. Earth would be relegated to a minor power ... and Venus would be next!"
Tal said thoughtfully, "Ric ... when you get in front of that tele-magnum, tell your Council to send their entire Fleet out here! They ought to be able to blast Phobos out of space!"
"Yes, if they could get within ten thousand miles of here—which they can't! Gorak's bombs are radio-controlled, and the entire Fleet wouldn't stand long against them."
They were suddenly silent, as a Phobian guard appeared in the doorway. For a moment the man stood hesitant. Praana rose, quickly crossed the room to him. The guard handed something to her, and moved quickly away.
"The eishn stems!" Praana handed Ric several tightly wrapped bundles. "For days I've been trying to persuade him to get some for us! I convinced him we needed it for ourselves."
Ric had almost forgotten about it. "My plan may not work, now. But it's a last chance. If only they send me back to the spore-fields tomorrow!" He hid the drug carefully away in his clothes.