"About minus 380° Fahrenheit!" said Smith. "That's all. Uranians and
Titanians may _look_ like Earthmen, lad, but they're built entirely
different. They are not children of the Sun, as we are. Their bodies
are so constituted as to be able to stand extremes of frigidity that
would quick-freeze us like salmon. Sluggish basal metabolism, dermal,
rather than pneumonic respiration--these enable them to endure what to
us appear the impossible living conditions of a world on which mercury
and gallium are adamant solids, liquid hydrogen forms seas, and the
snow is carbon dioxide.
"When you turned on the heating unit of your bulger you subjected that
native's hand to what was to him a burning, unendurable heat!"
Chip nodded.
"I see. That makes sense. But--but there must be some warmth around
here? A cleared patch--"
"I haven't yet decided whether this patch was cleared by heat or
labor," said Salvation. "If we can make them believe we are friends, I
may learn. I can sling their talk a little. It's not unlike the Uranian
language. But--"
He stopped, and his voice rose to a shout. "Behold! Thou hast delivered
mine enemy into mine hands, O Lord; Thou hast brought the wicked even
unto judgment!"
And Chip, following his gaze, saw a second party of Titanians
approaching the central gathering place from the opposite direction.
These natives held captive, even as he and Salvation and Syd were held,
an ill-assorted foursome in spacemen's bulgers. A giant Venusian, a
greenie, a dwarfed Jovian and an Earthman!
"Amborg!" yelled Chip. "Blaze Amborg and his crew! They got away on
that life-skiff, but they were caught when they landed! Padre--"
It had not occurred to him that the arms of Amborg and his men
would not be, like their own, lashed securely. Thus it came as a
heart-stopping shock to hear Amborg's cry ring in their ears, a sharp
cry of command--then suddenly there flamed from the sidearms of the
other captive group the withering blasts of heat-guns!