"Buy food?" asked Rusty, sleepily.
"Buy it!" Spike roared with laughter. "What do you think we got this ship for? Buy it! We take it—and anything else they happen to have aboard. We scuttled one liner off Saturn while you slept."
"Lord!" thought Rusty. This was what Lothar had mentioned on Pluto. They had turned pirate. And he was considered one of them. They knew nothing of the scheme that had landed him on the stellar prison. They thought he was as they—another rat driven from the law-respecting Universe.
Rusty could rationalize the dead men whose ship they had taken. The ship had been available in no other way. It had been a fair fight. But now it could go no further. Earth gleamed in the distance. His part must change here; he had fought against Earth's laws, that he might regain them. He must stand for them now.
"Spike," began Rusty, "there is something I never told you. I must tell you now." And he told of the false crime that had brought him to Pluto, how he was to have been released and his sudden abandonment. He was a fugitive, yes, in a way; but he must get to Earth—somehow vindicate himself. It would be impossible if he added real crimes to the pretension that had put him here. Spike must understand.
The chunky Earthian's face changed from surprise to rage. Then to a deadly calm. "We better not let the others know of this," he said.
The Venusian entered. He must have been just outside the door.
Rusty saw his eye, the cruel glint there, knew here would be a climax to his adventure. And he knew the result, while strength remained in his body, would be well. He could not lose now—Earth was too near, the end of his journey was at hand.
The Venusian stared at them with his single, beady eye. "Secrets!" he sneered. "I heard. An Earthian informer! I'll fix that!" He drew a short vib-pistol from his belt, leveled it in Rusty's face. His fishy eye gleamed.