At that moment a hidden bell began to clang incessantly. Zuggoth paused, half turned. The laboratory assistants fidgeted. One of them said: "It is the alarm signal, First One. Something has happened in the ship!"
Zuggoth hesitated. Then he flung the knife down on the small table. "Keep guard over the Earthians, Cuzzvi," he snapped to the head scientist. "I will see what's causing the trouble!"
Hammond's tightened muscles relaxed: the sweat on his forehead felt cool. Unexpectedly, he had been given a breathing spell. But for how long?
Instinctively he tested the flexible, silken straps that held him to the table. They did not give, though his muscles bunched and strained. There was a silken thong about his neck, holding his head down. He turned his head, slowly, till he faced Storm.
"Looks like our friend Zuggoth never heard of an anesthetic," he muttered, with an attempt at casualness he did not feel. "Funny thing, Pete, it still doesn't seem real. All this, I mean. Just a few hours ago we were in a skiff, fishing for blues. Now—"
Pete managed a grin. "Now we're still in the boat. Only it isn't—"
Looking toward Hammond, he was facing the laboratory door, and he saw them first. Hybrids, armed with shield and electronic rifles. Two of them. One of them carried red and green insignia on its dwarfed right arm.
Hammond turned his head, warned by the look on Storm's face. The laboratory head, Cuzzvi, saw the intruders a moment later. He drew up stiffly, evidently noting the rank of the foremost hybrid. Then, all at once, he whirled, gave a short cry of warning to his assistants, and reached for an electronic rifle in a wall rack.
The rifles in the hands of the strange hybrids lanced their electronic bolts. Cuzzvi staggered against the fluoroscope, his green face fused into black mess. The other two assistants made a dash for a door in the far end of the room. Neither reached it.
A moment later the hybrid officer was bending over Hammond, releasing him. The other hybrid was doing the same for Storm.