"Perhaps," he began, "I have not made it clear to you just how insignificant you, and your form of life, is in our scheme of things. We have wiped out many races stronger than you, on a score of planets, in my time. We are strong, immortal; you are weak, you suffer pain easily. Do not try my patience with any more escape attempts. And you had better tell me what you have done with that guard." There was only silence. He screamed, "What did you do with that guard?" A great three-toed claw, or hand, shot out, stopped an inch from Elene's terror-stricken face.
"I have heard that your men consider you beautiful to look upon," sneered Dwalbuth, "I will change that face to a seared mask if you do not tell me, immediately." Then Art leaped. He threw himself on the arm with its grasping claw, bore it down. White hot, burning agony shot through his hands and arms. Then, miraculously, it stopped. Dwalbuth was sagging to the floor. But there came a vicious crackling as the guard whirled to train his heat ray on them. Then he, too, collapsed. Klalmar-lan stood in the door, grinning as he switched on his disintegrator.
"Fasten this door the best you can," he commanded, "while I finish off these two. Hate to take the time, but we can't risk their recovering." This done, he stepped to the televisor, dialled his commander-in-chief in the Greater Ring's Martian stronghold. In a few terse words, he explained the situation and sent the fleet hurtling toward Earth. By this time, a great pounding had begun at the door. But the Earthians had not been idle—they had been searching frantically for an exit. And Elene had found one, a tiny passageway behind a once secret, but now half-rotted-away panel. They scrambled into it, crawled for a short way. Then the tunnel debouched into a larger corridor in which they could stand up and run. Luckily, it was crooked, and winding; for they heard the angry snap and hiss of searching heat rays not far behind.
"Watch this," said Klalmar-lan, turning his disintegrator up higher. A Voornizar appeared around a corner, and exploded with a muffled roar.
"Don't get the mixture too rich!" laughed Art as the fragments showered around them. "Say, Klalmar-lan, how in blazes did you get through that mob to follow us?"
"Easy," grinned the black man. "When you came out on that level, I was lurking close behind. There was nothing for me to do but fall right in with you. If you had looked around, you'd have seen me right at your elbow. Of course, when you came to the door of Dwalbuth's staff room, I dropped out, and just stood outside the door, acting the part of a bored prisoner, until the fun started."
Art chuckled at the Martian's audacity. The sounds of pursuit were getting fainter behind them. The Voornizar were learning new respect for their once despised captives.
The tunnel now narrowed down to a width which made it passable by one person only, and ran perfectly straight. The party formed in single file, Klalmar-lan bringing up the rear. Denny led, with Art's flash, as Art was nursing scorched hands and arms.
"They'll be getting after us with that paralysis ray directly," Art worried. "What do you say to blocking the tunnel? We can surely depend on its emerging somewhere."
"The War Gods help us if they know where it comes out! But I think you've got an idea there," agreed Klalmar-lan, turning his ray on the roof of the tunnel a good distance behind them. It crumbled, slowly at first, then gave way with a roar, the fragments of rock and masonry completely choking the aperture. Klalmar-lan did not stop until he had filled the passage for a good hundred feet.