"We'll let them think we're helpless," I explained. "They'll go ahead with their scheme and, at the crucial moment, we'll step in and queer the works." I replaced the false hand.
"How?" Augie wanted to know.
"That," I said, "remains to be seen."
The pilot brought the cruiser in for a perfect landing and the unceasing throb of the rockets sputtered, died and gave way to a loud silence.
Mon Pordo came down the passageway, flanked on each side by a stony-faced guard. His cruel lips parted in a wide grin as he unlocked our cells and motioned us out.
"We have arrived, gendlemen," he hissed. "I am pleased do node you have made no efford do escape. We shall proceed immediadely do de governmendal palace where you will be inderned in de underground prison-block. You will accompany dese men who will lead you do your quarders."
The musclemen hustled us from the ship and into a waiting surface-car. I had refitted the false hand, fusing the ends of the plastic together with a quick jolt of electricity. The stupid guards didn't suspect anything as we roared from the Jove City Space-port, headed for the luxurious palace which housed the high officials of Jovian government. I could have burnt them to a crisp where they sat, but Twilken was to one side of me and he would be the first to get it. I decided other avenues of action would present themselves in due time, so I relaxed against the cushions and stared casually out the window, mentally mapping the route we were following, to use as reference in our coming escape. Twilken sat dejectedly, his milky eyes playing tag with a small insect beating frantically against the wondow. I felt a strange kinship for this mild little man. He was so darn concerned over our plight; so terribly anxious to regain the formula he had labored long and hard to perfect. I wasn't so worried about our present unfavorable circumstances as he—having built up an immunity to such misfortunes in my past escapades. Nevertheless, my brain was working overtime—seeking a way to circumvent the Jovian plot once we had escaped.
We braked to a halt in the palace courtyard and the two ugly Jovians prodded us toward a massive, solid-steel door. The damp, moss-covered tunnel through which we passed ran deep under the palace and row after row of tiny, unlighted cells lined each side. Many of them were occupied, and I didn't care to look twice at the wild-eyed, disease-wracked bodies of Nan's victims. There was a hopeless look on those hollow-cheeked faces; a blank, "why go on fighting?" stare in the eyes of the more sane—the ones who hadn't been there very long yet. The cells were wet and filth-littered and the suffocating stench of the place was so dense you could almost see it.
We were more fortunate in the matter of living conditions. The cell in which we were placed was large, tolerably dry and was supplied with a couple of candles for illumination. Still, the unrelenting smell and the tortured moans of the prisoners was enough to drive a man mad.