Tichron's eyes narrowed. "Where _are_ you going?"

"You'll find out when I tell the others. In time to make up your mind

about going."

Alcatraz Asteroid showed suddenly against the dark backdrop of space,

reflected sunlight waxing as the planes of its surface turned toward

the Sun.

Airlock valves set into the savage exterior opened to let the lighter

and captive supply ship into a tube leading downward to the inhabited

caverns. Barely had the ship settled into cradles when Wilding went

through the double doors and stared about the vaulted dockroom.

Something was wrong. By now, the convicts would know that the venture

was well started, that the conquerors had returned with a prize.

Curious and excited crowds should be milling about, swarming around the

captured ship, greeting the venturers.

But no one was in sight.

Signalling the others to remain aboard, Wilding moved away from the

ship to begin exploration. Cautiously, gun in hand, he poked through

the main cavern with its stockpiled supplies, then on, investigating

the nearer passages. Already out of sight of his cohorts aboard the

supply ship, he halted suddenly at a hint of furtive movement among the

jagged rocks.

Three men sprang up and faced him. All three were armed and ready. It

was not difficult to recognize Credus and his two chief supporters.

"I'm taking over," said Credus.

"Not so easily," Wilding warned. "It's still a deadlock. I have a gun

on you."

Credus shook his head slowly. "You're too good a gambler to play

against such odds. You wouldn't dare shoot."

Wilding was aware of a faint sound behind him. For a moment he hoped

that Grouth or Concor had disobeyed his orders and followed him. He

even risked a quick glance over his shoulder to see.

Two yards behind him stood Tichron, aimed blaster in hand. On Tichron's

face was an expression of unholy glee, his lips curled up to expose

wolfish fangs. Tichron held the balance, and knew it.

"Start bargaining," he suggested.

"I'll deal with you," said Credus quickly. "I have the girl, Amyth.

She's yours ... if...."

Tichron licked dry lips. His cold eyes questioned Wilding.

The Prison of the Stars · 第 10 / 15 题