He awoke with splitting head and a red film before his eyes. Two blurred figures were bending over him. He examined an egg-sized bump on his head with languidly exploring fingers. His helmet was off. The figures were those of Crane and Peterson. Damn! Bonwitt sat up jerkily and the effort set his head swimming and throbbing.
The super was grinning his sardonic grin; Crane was grimacing a warning. "They've got us, old man," he said. "Might as well make the best of it. Here, let me help you up."
With his aid, the engineer rose up and stood groggily swaying. Peterson, legs wide, bristly brows close, sneered at the big Earthman.
"What'd you hit me with, a tractor? Or was it a meteor that fell?" grunted Bonwitt, gingerly fingering the lump on his head.
Peterson's sneer relaxed. "Now you're using sense," he approved. "If you'da come up fighting it'da been just too bad for you."
The engineer spied a curiously shaped weapon in Peterson's belt. Entirely unfamiliar but looking mighty dangerous with its ugly flaring snout and the cooling discs along its stubby barrel.
"All right," said the super. "Your side-kick'll tell you more about things here. Play ball and you're okay. We may even find jobs for the two of you. But no monkey business."
The man turned on his heel and disappeared through the arched door. Bonwitt saw they were in a circular chamber lined with bluish metal. His gray eyes questioned Crane.
"They jumped me and tied me in a knot," the ethertype man explained. "Gates slammed you down, the rat!"