"Crude but crafty," admired Spike.
Rusty glanced at the others. The tall Martians stood at the side, slender silhouettes. The Vulcanian towered above him, long incisors gleaming between drooping lips.
"I think you know the rest," said Spike. "Here's Fish."
Rusty noticed for the first time the frail form of a Venusian in the shadows. He moved silently to Rusty, extended a finny hand in the Earthian clasp adopted by the Universe.
Venusians were an eternal surprise to Rusty. Half the height of an average man, limbs thin and tipped with prehensile spines, they were covered with fish-like scales, a delicate lavender in color. A single eye in the middle of the forehead, throughout the Universe they carried optional misnomers, "Cyclops" or "Fish."
Rusty shook the cold hand and for a moment forgot his plight, as he felt his usual presentiments. These weird creatures from the cloud-hidden planet never failed to arouse unreasoning tingles of distrust.
"When do we leave?" asked Rusty. He must have action. The thought of his abandonment here would soon drive him raving mad.
"All ready," said Spike. "Waiting for the moon to get in position."
Lothar tapped Rusty on the shoulder, his huge, four-fingered hand almost knocking him down.
"Make words," he boomed in his throat. "You go. Must be one with us—steal moon ship—pirates."