"Secret police!” gasped Kribo, his face livid.
The whole place was frozen with terror, every man staring silently, for throughout the four worlds of the League, the secret police of Haskell Trask was a name to inspire fright.
The SP man was drawing a pocketaudio from his jacket. So sure was he of the power of his organization's name that he had not troubled to draw a weapon.
"You'll get a year in the mines of Pluto for your subversive talk,” he told Thorn and the others with thin-lipped satisfaction. Then he spoke into the little audio. “Forty-three-twelve calling headquarters. Send—” Thorn's fist crashed on his jaw, at that moment. The SP man went down in a crumpled heap, and a cry of fear and horror went up from the crowd in the place.
"Come on, Kribo!” yelled Thorn, grabbing the dazed hunter's arm. He rushed out into the street, Sual Av and the Mercurian at his heels.
The four of them plunged down the dark, dingy little thoroughfare, hearing an excited roar of voices from behind. The streets were far less crowded now, and the mists had cleared a little with the stopping of the rain. The stupendous bow of the rings blazed white overhead, and Titan was rising.
"Good God, we're all in for it now!” gasped Kribo as they stopped a few blocks away. “You hit an SP man!"
"We'll take care of ourselves,” Thorn rapped. “You'd better get back out into your fungus forests and stay there till this blows over."
Kribo grasped at the suggestion eagerly. He gripped Thorn's hand a moment in his huge paw.
"Thanks for pulling me out of there, lad,” he said fervently, and then hastened away.