“Feels like a little less to me,” answered Mark. “We’ll have to step up our exercises if we’re going to maintain muscle tone.”
“Nothing fancy, but everything we need,” said one of St. George’s men after a quick look around the rooms.
“For a long stay, maybe,” said another.
“‘K’intrishian’ means ‘wait,’ if I remember correctly, Mark,” said Joe.
“That’s thirty-three points for you,” responded the tall Starman.
Time passed. From the window in the wall of the asteroid, the three Starmen looked down and saw a buzz of activity. About two dozen ships were docked on the field, and workers were still hovering around tables in the work center.
“Here comes another one,” said Joe, as a spacecraft passed into view from the large tunnel that led to the outside.
“How many is that since we’ve been here?” asked Mark. “Six?”
“Yes, six in less than twenty-four hours,” stated Zip.
The Starmen chafed under the burden of their powerlessness. They had already scoured the rooms carefully and found no sign of weakness they could exploit. Their food was delivered through an automated shaft that they could find no way of using as an escape route. They had neither seen nor spoken to anyone since Spelford had brought them to their prison.