After threading his way through an intricate series of barricades and across an open area through which even Amarro walked gingerly, explaining as he did so that this entire field was groundmined with atomic bombs against the possibility of a single prisoner's escaping, Steve's heart sickened within him to look at last upon the filthy pens into which were huddled a thousand emprisoned Earth cattle, including those who had so recently and gallantly fought beside him at the taking of Loovil.
The miasmic odors emanating from the swamps were but part of the appalling stench which rose to offend his nostrils. Odors of death and decay, sickness and filth, stagnant waters alive with squirming life, rotten food ... these were the conditions under which the effete Daans maintained their "mastery" over once free earthmen.
Yet what men must endure they somehow can. And even in this scene of degradation, somehow the exhausted prisoners contrived to sleep—until Amarro issued the order which brought the entire camp to its feet as a brazen klaxon clamored its strident signal over the barracks.
Then haggard humans, trained by lash and rack to obey the summons of that signal, came straggling from their quarters to stare in dumb bewilderment at their gaudily-raimented visitors. And it was then Amarro turned to Stephen Duane.
Perhaps it was only imagination on Duane's part, but for an instant he thought he detected in the guard's eyes a sullen glitter of disdain as Amarro muttered, "Here are those you seek, noble Lord. Fear them not. They are too weak and weary to resent your questioning."
And the Lady Loala glanced at Steve.
"Do you see them, Steve of Emmeity? See you the trio you came to identify? Those known as the Slumberers?"
Steve did not hurry his answer. He had already seen and grievously recognized many of those he loved. Beth ... and the Mother Maatha. Chuck Lafferty who, even in befouled exhaustion, managed to maintain a shadow of his erstwhile proud defiance. The Wild Ones' leader, Jon. Lina, warrior captain of a Tensee Clan.
But there was one whose sight evaded him, and that one, for the nonce at least, perhaps the most important of them all. Steve turned to Amarro, frowning.