Barlow turned and saw a full squad with leveled rifles. There was no chance to get the two rifles he had brought with them. There was no chance for any sort of a fight. They were trapped as completely as rats in a wire cage.
Valnar seemed paralyzed. He didn't seem to realize that he had been vulnerable. He made no resistance when the officer took the projector from his hands. He stared at Barlow dazedly.
"The Director will see you," the officer said to Valnar, then turned to look at Barlow. "You must be Barlow," he mused. "Put him with the rest. The Organization will be liquidated tomorrow."
Barlow was escorted to prison by two watchful soldiers. He was silent. The abrupt failure had stunned him, and he knew that it was no use to appeal to his guards. With them Dodson was not a ruler; he was a messiah. The Mental Ray effected that in the common man. They might be pretty decent fellows with wives and families and friends, but on that one point they were adamant and inviolable.
He was quickly booked, then taken down the corridor between the cells. He was thrust into the largest cell, the tank, and heard the door close behind him with dreadful finality.
"Barlow!" came a surprised shout from one of the men in the crowded cell.
Barlow focused his eyes on the face of the man who came forward, and saw that it was the chief of Laurine's group. Then there was a flurry of movement among the captives and a girl ran to his arms. Her face was tear-streaked and her voice unsteady.
"Joel! I hoped that they wouldn't get you." She was crying again, softly, face hidden against his chest.
He stroked her hair slowly. "Don't cry, Laurine," he said dully as he looked around. There were many whom he didn't recognize, but among the half hundred in the cell he recognized all those of Laurine's group that he had met. He looked at the leader questioningly.