EVER since my introduction to the Executive Chamber, I had wondered, in the back of my mind, where my fellow prisoners might be. I had seen no living thing save these monstrous men of Venus, and this sounded like a chance to see some of the other unfortunate human beings held captive here.
“Yes, I am very hungry, Oomlag,” I lied, “and I was just about to ask you if I could have something to eat.”
“Follow me.”
I followed Oomlag down this main tunnel about a quarter of a mile to where a smaller tunnel branched to the right. Some hundred paces we took down this, then found the way blocked by the usual dull-green hangings. Oomlag’s hands reached under his jacket, there was a rustling sound, and instantly the hangings parted, revealing doors like huge square blocks of cement. These doors slid noiselessly into the walls of the tunnel on each side.
We entered a chamber about a hundred feet square and about fifteen feet high, containing a dozen large, round tables of smooth rock, with smaller stools, also of rock, serving as chairs. Over each table, as well as in the comers of the room, were the octagonal crystal lights illuminating the room with their cold, intense rays. Behind us the immense doors slid together again without a sound.
At one of these rock tables Oomlag and I seated ourselves. Again he reached under his jacket and again there was a rustling sound. I was about to ask him what sort of signals he produced by this mysterious maneuver, when a panel in the rock wall at the far end of the room slid back, and a girl bearing a tray stepped out.
Needless to say, I regarded with extreme interest this first person of my own race I was privileged to see, who was, like myself, a captive of these terribly efficient Venusians. Was it sympathy with her plight that made me think her pretty? She seemed of a Spanish type, her long black hair parted smoothly in the middle, and hanging in glossy braids on either side of her pale, pathetically piquant face. She was clad in a dress made of the universal material used by these people, reaching almost to her ankles. Though she was small, the garment gave her a look of height and dignity. She moved gracefully to our table, and without a word placed before us the dishes on her tray. As she leaned over, she glanced at me with such a hopeless look in her large, brown eyes that I was stabbed to the heart. Before she turned away, I saw a tear rolling down her cheek. She brushed at it with a slender little hand, as she retired with the empty tray through the rock panel, which closed silently behind her.
“That,” said Oomlag, arranging the dishes before me, “is one of our most valuable guests. She has been with us almost five years, and has been invaluable in teaching us Spanish and English. She came from a small town in Arizona. I forgot to tell you, you are to hold no converse at any time with any of your fellow beings. To do so will have painful consequences. You think she is pretty, don’t you?”
I boiled inwardly. This leering, inhuman brute was my absolute master, and nothing I could say or do would help in the least; on the contrary, if I said what I really thought, it would be the worse for me.