"They say any rocket-plane that flies within five miles of that spaceport is gunned down,” Kribo declared. “I always give the place a wide berth."
Thorn nodded. For the moment, as he stared at the gathering armada that was intended to carry conquest and destruction to the inner worlds, he could not trust himself to speak.
"Here we are,” boomed Kribo a few minutes later. He added proudly, “It didn't take long in this machine, did it?"
Their rocket-plane was gliding down over the flat, black roofs of the city. They poised in the rainy mist, edged into a descent-level, and presently came down on a parking-roof.
Kribo turned genially to Thorn and his comrades as the party of slith hunters emerged from the battered machine.
"You three lads come along with us to Mother Bombey's place,” he boomed. “It's our favorite drinking spot here."
"Sorry, we can't,” Thorn told him. “We're out of money, and these few teeth we have won't bring more than enough to pay our way back to Karies."
"Who said you would need money?” demanded Kribo indignantly. “I'm paying for everything, lads. I know what it is to come back from a hard trip with only a handful of teeth."
Thorn thought rapidly. He had a plan for seeking Lana, but could not try it until night came. The Planeteers would be safer if they stayed off the streets in the meantime.
"All right, we're your men if you're paying,” he told Kribo with a grin, as they descended to the street.
Saturnopolis looked a dreary place in the sickly daylight beneath the falling rain. The cold mists that fogged its streets were bone-chilling. Through the streets roared rocketcars, and the pedestrian-walks were crowded with the Saturnian populace, and with hordes of officers and men of the four League navies. The four circle emblem of the League was showing everywhere, and it was clearly evident that Haskell Trask had whipped the people to war-fever.
Far away, across the city, there rose from the ruck of low, black cement buildings the huge, terraced square pile that dominated everything. It had been built two centuries before, as the seat of the Saturnian government. Now, Thorn knew, it was the guarded citadel in which the ruthless dictator of the League of Cold Worlds lived and worked and wove his plans of conquest.
Sual Av and Gunner Welk pressed close beside Thorn as the noisy hunters pushed through the crowded streets.
The Mercurian, glancing at the distant, frowning pile, spoke guardedly in deep undertones.
"The girl will be in that fortress, John. And I still don't see how we can, hope even to get in there."
"We'll get in,” Thorn muttered with grim determination. “I've been here before, and I have a plan."
"It'll have to be damned good to get us past the net of secret police around that place,” whispered Gunner. Thorn's eyes clung with fierce intensity to the looming, mist-vague fortress. Somewhere behind those forbidding walls was the pirate girl who was the focus of all his thoughts. What tortures were Haskell Trask and his fat spymaster using upon her to make her reveal the secret of Erebus?
"Here we are!” boomed Kribo, stopping in a dingy cross-street. He pushed through a door, the others following.
Thorn perceived that Mother Bornbey's was a shabby rendezvous, with a drinking-counter, tables, and a few “happiness vibration” booths. Krypton lamps lit the place, a few “glowers” dispelled the chill, and it was more than crowded with rough slith hunters.
"Welcome, Kribo!” roared a dozen voices. “What luck this time?"
"Fair, boys, fair,” answered the hulking hunter complacently. He turned. “Meet some lads from up in Karies."
He pointed to the disguised Planeteers, introducing them to the crowd by the false names that Thorn had given him.
A hard-faced, ample-figured old Saturnian hag reached over the drinking-counter with an outstretched hand.
"Pass over the guns, Kribo,” she, ordered harshly.
"This is Mother Bombey,” Kribo told Thorn with a grin. “She makes us check our guns when we come in, so that our little arguments won't wreck the place."
Thorn made no objection to handing over the heavy atom-guns, for he and Sual Av and Gunner Welk retained their atom pistols inside their jackets.
"Drinks or vibrations for everybody!” ordered Kribo, slapping down a platinum coin with a lordly gesture.
Thorn ordered fungus wine, which he knew was the Saturnian favorite. Sual Av and Gunner Welk followed his lead.
"Here's better times and plenty teeth for every hunter!” proposed Kribo, quaffing the pale liquor.
John Thorn could not help liking the hulking hunter. He sensed that here was a representative of the real population of the League worlds, hardworking, fundamentally decent people all, when not whipped up to war fever by an ambitious dictator's inflammatory lies.
Two hours went past in the crowded, noisy place. Thorn had been forced to swallow more of the musty, powerful fungus wine than he wanted, and he was glad when night fell outside, for Kribo was a little drunk and was giving him a candid opinion of the political situation. And a thin faced Saturnian nearly seemed to be listening.
"The Chairman keeps saying we've got to arm to the teeth and take territory from the inner worlds because we're poor,” Kribo declared. “But it seems to me we're poor because we spend everything on this big fleet of battle-cruisers we've built."
"Shut up, Kribo;” Thorn warned anxiously. “That kind of talk will get you into trouble."
Kribo winked at him. “It's all right, lad. I know you feel the same way. I saw your partner choke off a laugh on our way here, when we said, ‘The Chairman is always right.’”
Thorn knew the peril of such talk, and determined the time had come for the Planeteers to get started, since it was already full night outside. Sual Av and Gunner rose quickly at his nod.
"We've got to be on our way, Kribo,” Thorn told the big hunter. “Thanks a lot for what you've done for us."
He and his two comrades started for the door. But the thin-faced Saturnian he had noticed barred their way.
"Stand where you are!” snapped this individual. “You three and that hunter are under arrest — authority of the SP."
As he spoke, the thin-faced Saturnian turned back his jacket to show a viridiurn badge with the dreaded emblem.
"Secret police!” gasped Kribo, his face livid.
The whole place was frozen with terror, every man staring silently, for throughout the four worlds of the League, the secret police of Haskell Trask was a name to inspire fright.
The SP man was drawing a pocketaudio from his jacket. So sure was he of the power of his organization's name that he had not troubled to draw a weapon.
"You'll get a year in the mines of Pluto for your subversive talk,” he told Thorn and the others with thin-lipped satisfaction. Then he spoke into the little audio. “Forty-three-twelve calling headquarters. Send—” Thorn's fist crashed on his jaw, at that moment. The SP man went down in a crumpled heap, and a cry of fear and horror went up from the crowd in the place.
"Come on, Kribo!” yelled Thorn, grabbing the dazed hunter's arm. He rushed out into the street, Sual Av and the Mercurian at his heels.
The four of them plunged down the dark, dingy little thoroughfare, hearing an excited roar of voices from behind. The streets were far less crowded now, and the mists had cleared a little with the stopping of the rain. The stupendous bow of the rings blazed white overhead, and Titan was rising.
"Good God, we're all in for it now!” gasped Kribo as they stopped a few blocks away. “You hit an SP man!"
"We'll take care of ourselves,” Thorn rapped. “You'd better get back out into your fungus forests and stay there till this blows over."
Kribo grasped at the suggestion eagerly. He gripped Thorn's hand a moment in his huge paw.