After being thoroughly searched, they were pushed through the door. Charlie didn't say anything and Flip knew his wrist must be agony.
Twilight had come, the long twilight of Venus which precedes the longer night, and the mist was wet with drizzling rain. Visibility was poor; Flip could see only a few yards ahead. The sun, never seen on this dank planet, was now below the horizon leaving a dull gray afterglow—like false dawn on Earth. He did not know where they were going nor what mad torture the woman had conceived. He knew only that hate flamed in his chest and her white throat in his hands would be a great pleasure. Never before had Flip desired to harm a woman. But never before had he seen one like this.
They passed a trim strato-plane, vague in the fog, and Flip discovered how the pirates managed to land so noiselessly. On their craft's power jets were the slim serpentine coils of Doxim silencers, exhaust mufflers banned for years by Interstellar Law. If only a veedle would crawl in one of those tubes, he thought; it might blow up the ship.
Slashing through the rain at Charlie's side, the threatening guns close behind, Flip was jerked from his heated musings by an .03 shot. He whirled around, saw smoke curling from the pistol in the woman's hand. A dead veedle, an exceptionally small mud-mouse, lay at her feet. Lordy, thought Flip as he was pushed on; the woman was heartless, mercilessly cruel for the sport of it....
The edge of the little island halted them. Here the rock fell away for several feet to the sickening ooze. Covering half of Venus, it was the Black Swamp which stretched off in the dismal fog.
"Tie a rope around his neck and throw him over," came the woman's impassive voice. "He will become quite loquacious before he sinks...."
So this was it. Flip looked at Charlie and Charlie looked at the swamp. Flip followed his gaze and the dark viscous mire rippled in a passing breeze, hissed against the rock and sucked hungrily like a live thing waiting to feed. The swamps were bottomless.
The man Thorg, the one who had broken Charlie's wrist, threw a loop over Flip's head, pulled it tight about his neck.
Flip fingered the rope and stared at the woman. Would she really do this? And would he talk? No! Damned if he would! He'd sink first. But the mine was worthless. Why not tell her where it was? But he had no reason to expect a lesser fate if he did. Besides it was a matter of honor now—and he knew one way to enhance that honor.
"Hold the rope when you shove him in," said the woman, her eyes mere slits against the mist. "Let him sink slowly." The other two men had their guns trained upon Flip. He met Thorg's beady eyes.