"Hundreds of unsuspecting Venusians have been brought here under the guise of helping to free Venus. But when they come and recognize what Lactu really intends to do, they want to quit. But it's too late, and they're sent to the caves."
Tom looked at the gaunt man fearfully. There was something in his voice that sent a chill down his spine.
"They are driven like cattle into the canyon walls," continued Carson. "There they are forced to dig the huge underground vaults for storage dumps. They are beaten and whipped and starved."
"Why aren't you in the caves then?" asked Connel.
"Some of us were," replied Carson. "But each of us here owns land and it is necessary to keep us alive to send back directives to our bankers and foremen to give aid in one form or another to Sharkey and the Division Chiefs."
"I see," said Connel. "If you were to die, then your property would be out of their reach."
"Exactly," said Carson.
"Is Sharkey the real leader of the movement?"
"I don't believe so. But then, no one knows. That's the idea of the frosted helmets. If you don't know who a man is, you can liquidate him without conscience. He may be your closest friend, but you would never know it."
"The blasted space crawlers!" growled Connel. "Well, they'll pay!"