"There's somebody here, all right," Brian said as they entered the great courtyard through a ruined gateway. "Look, there's a couple of ships over there."
"And they're our people, too." There was a lilt in Crystal's voice. "That far ship is Jimmy Thornton's—I'd know it anywhere." They approached the huge main doors of the great, white mansion.
One door swung partly open and a swarthy, powerful man stepped hastily out. He carried an atomic projector.
"Halt!" he commanded. "Who are you?"
"Oh, you don't need to get excited, we're rebels, too," Crystal told him. "Who's here?"
"Who is it, Max?" a pleasant voice inquired from the dim hallway.
"Two more of the rebels, sir," the guard replied woodenly.
"Oh—rebels? Oh, yes, of course. Show them in, Max." The guard stood respectfully aside as Crystal and Brian entered the huge, echoing chamber.
"To your right," the guard directed and they entered a small, exquisite room. The man behind the desk seemed to fit perfectly into this cultured setting, he was small and neat, silver hair frosted his temples, framing gentle, delicate features. He smiled with pleasant, disarming frankness as he rose to greet them.