Three Capeks stood near, two others—by their numbers those he had followed—stood by in the center of the room.
The humans were strapped to the tables, a Capek stood over each of them. Rod noticed the walls were lined with shelves of glittering instruments. There was a stronger light over the platform.
It was an operating room! His premonitions had been correct—these people were to be de-brained, at once.
One Capek raised a thin lancet and his eye bent over the form of the dark-haired man. The others were arranging implements along the sides of the tables.
Rod had not been noticed. Unresisted admission seemed customary at any place here.
The voice of the blond man spoke softly but it was clearly audible in the quiet room.
"Good-bye, Vee," he said.
"Stop!" cried Rod. He shot to the platform, knocked the lancet from the hand of the nearest machine.
The Capeks turned in obvious astonishment.
"What is the meaning of this!" demanded one. Then his voice changed to incredulity. "You have no number—"