Jon resheathed the stubray pistol, shrugged non-committally and leaped the trench. He walked slowly back and reentered the torture chamber.
The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damage he'd done.
As he watched them, Jon was still curious, but he was getting mad underneath at the cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.
By the shimmering clouds of Earth, by her green fields, and dark forests, he'd stay alive to warn the SP ship.
Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And send the story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acid to it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships could equip themselves with spray guns and squirt citric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fade away.
It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. The fruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—it doesn't sound possible. That couldn't be the answer.
Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyl discovered a week later.
The Steel-Blue who had captured him in the power room of the service station came in to examine him.
"You're still holding out, I see," he observed after poking Jon in every sensitive part of his body.
"I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increase the power of the—ah—hemlock. How do you feel?"