The five figures, bulky in their lead and rubberoid suits, their transparent helmets almost opaque as the lights within the ship reflected from them, closed the lock behind them. Four moved silently aside, two to stand on either side of the lock, while the commander strode toward Knight and Captain Hansen.
I must warn them, Kent Knight thought. They mustn't be taken by the Things. But I cannot move my lips. The Thing knows I want to speak. There is a way! he thought excitedly. The Thing became angry, began scrabbling through his mind, seeking the way, found it. "You will not forget to do it," It ordered. "Do it!"
With a sudden movement, Kent Knight's body grew taut. His left arm came up in a quick salute, and the SP commander suddenly stiffened, his four aides whipped atomic pistols out, held them at ready.
The left-handed salute! Knight's mind was laughing. I fooled you, Thing! That's what I wanted to do, salute with my left hand. And you didn't catch the thought! We'll lick you now, Thing! Sure, you conquer by thought, but you can't conquer all of an Earthman's mind!
The left-handed salute. To an SP man, that means danger, proceed with caution, destroy everything which you know or feel is inimical to you. So, Thing, just try to get them to pick up one of your fuzzy animals. The SP man's prime rule: When warned, distrust everything and everybody! You will live longer.
The SP commander left on his glassite helmet, turned on the little speaker.
"Damn my eyes," the rich vibrant voice which issued from the speaker exclaimed, "Kent Knight! Of all the exiles who should know better than to cross the line, it's you. But damn it, Kent, it's swell to see you." Gauntleted fingers reached to the SP commander's throat, twisted twice, and then pushed the glassite helmet back from a shock of flaming hair.
Even before the red hair was exposed, Knight had recognized the voice. Bob Mallory, the lightning which had struck Mary Jo's love from him.
Please, God, the mind which still belonged to Kent Knight whispered, don't let the Things get him and his ship. He belongs to Mary Jo. She loves him, and he can't be her Bob Mallory with a Thing in his brain.
Ah, but what a sweet revenge! Here is the man who stole my girl. Let a Thing take his brain and let my Thing give me Mary Jo. If I cooperate I can be powerful among men. Just shake that gauntleted hand and he will have your Thing and you will have Mary Jo.