"How long have you been here?" asked Connel.
"The oldest prisoner has been here for three years," replied Carson. And as the other men began to gather around them, Connel and Tom saw that they were hardly more than walking skeletons. Their cheeks were hollow, eyes sunk in their sockets, and they wore little more than rags.
"And there's no way to escape?" asked Tom.
"Three guards with blasters are stationed on the other side of that door," said Carson. "There is no other entrance or exit. We tried a tunnel, but it caved in and after that they put in a wooden floor." He stamped on it. "Teak. Hard as steel. We couldn't cut through."
"But why are you being held prisoners?" asked Connel.
"All of us joined the Nationalists believing it was just a sort of good-neighbor club, where we could get together and exchange ideas for our own improvement. And when we found out what Lactu and the Division Chiefs were really up to, we tried to quit. As you see, we couldn't. We knew too much."
"Blasted rebels!" muttered Connel. "The Solar Guard will cool them off!"
"I'm afraid it's too late," said Carson. "They're preparing to strike now. I've been expecting it for some time. They have enough ships and arms to wipe out the entire Solar Guard garrison here on Venus in one attack!" He shook his head. "After that, with Solar Guard ships and complete control of the planet—" He paused and sighed. "It will mean a long, bloody space war."
Tom and Connel plied the prisoners with questions and soon began to get a complete picture of the scope of the Nationalist movement.
"Lactu and his commanders should be sent to a prison asteroid for life," said Carson, "for what they have done to former Nationalists."