"Raise your hands!" came the second command from a man who appeared directly in front of them.
Standing squarely in front of them, the little man said something in the Venusian dialect and waited, but Connel and Tom remained silent.
"I guess you don't speak the Venusian tongue," he sneered. "So I'll have to use the disgusting language of Earth!" He looked down at the unconscious form of Roger. "What happened to him?"
"He was injured in a fight with a tyrannosaurus," replied Connel. "May I remind you that you and these men are holding guns on an officer of the Solar Guard. Such a crime is punishable by two years on a prison asteroid!"
"You'll be the one to go to prison, my stout friend!" The man laughed. "A little work in the shops will take some of that waistline off you!"
"Are you taking us prisoner?"
"What do you think?"
"I see." Connel seemed to consider for a moment. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Drifi, squad officer of the jungle patrol."