"Put your back against the door, Tom!" snapped Connel. "Quickly!"

Tom felt the powerful grip of the Solar Guard officer's fingers on his arm as he was pulled backward. He closed his eyes, then opened them, hoping to pierce the darkness, but he saw nothing. Beside him, he could sense the tenseness in Connel's body.

There was a rustle of movement to the right of them.

"Careful, Tom," cautioned Connel. "To your right!"

"I hear it, sir," said Tom, turning toward the noise and bracing himself.

"My name is Connel," the burly spaceman suddenly spoke up in loud tones. "I'm an official in the Solar Guard! Whoever you are, speak up! Identify yourself."

There was a moment of silence and then a voice spoke harshly in the darkness.

"How do we know you're a Solar Guard officer? How do we know you're not a spy?"

"Do you have any kind of light?" asked Connel.

"Yes, we have a light. But we are not going to give away our positions. We know how to move in here. You don't."

"Then how do you expect me to prove it?"

"The burden of proof lies with you."

"Have you ever heard of me?" asked Connel after a pause.

"We know there is an officer in the Solar Guard named Connel."

"I am that officer," asserted Connel. "I was sent into the jungle to find this base, but one of our party was injured and we were captured by a patrol."

Tom and Connel heard voices whispering in the darkness and then a loud order.

"Lie down on the floor, both of you!"

The two spacemen hesitated and then got down flat on their backs.

"Close your eyes and lie still. One of us here knows what Connel looks like. I hope for your sake that you're telling the truth. If you're not—" The voice stopped but the threat was plain.

"Do as they say, Tom," said Connel.

The cadet closed his eyes and he heard the shuffle of feet around them. Suddenly there was a flash of light on his face but he kept his eyes tightly closed. The light moved away, but he could tell that it was still burning.

"It's Connel, I think," said a high-pitched voice directly over them.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I met him once in Atom City at a scientific meeting. He was making a speech with a Professor Sykes."

"That's right," said Connel, hearing the remark. "I was there."

"Do you remember meeting a man from Venus wearing a long red robe?" asked the high-pitched voice.

Connel hesitated. "No," he said. "I only remember talking to three men. Two were from Venus and one was from Mars. But neither of the two from Venus wore a red robe. They wore purple—"

"He's right," acknowledged the voice. "This is Connel."

"Open your eyes," said the first voice.

Connel and Tom opened their eyes and in the light of a small hand torch they saw two gaunt faces before them. The tallest of the men stuck out a bony hand. "My name is Carson." They recognized his voice as the one that had spoken first. "And this is Bill Jensen," he added.

"This is Tom Corbett, Space Cadet," said Connel. He glanced around the room, and in the weak reflected light of the torch, saw almost fifty men crouched against the walls, each of them holding a crude weapon.

"You'll understand our caution, Major," said Carson. "Once before we had a plan to escape and a spy was sent in. As you see, we didn't escape."

"Neither did the spy," commented Jensen grimly.

"How long have you been here?" asked Connel.

"The oldest prisoner has been here for three years," replied Carson. And as the other men began to gather around them, Connel and Tom saw that they were hardly more than walking skeletons. Their cheeks were hollow, eyes sunk in their sockets, and they wore little more than rags.

"And there's no way to escape?" asked Tom.

"Three guards with blasters are stationed on the other side of that door," said Carson. "There is no other entrance or exit. We tried a tunnel, but it caved in and after that they put in a wooden floor." He stamped on it. "Teak. Hard as steel. We couldn't cut through."

"But why are you being held prisoners?" asked Connel.

"All of us joined the Nationalists believing it was just a sort of good-neighbor club, where we could get together and exchange ideas for our own improvement. And when we found out what Lactu and the Division Chiefs were really up to, we tried to quit. As you see, we couldn't. We knew too much."

"Blasted rebels!" muttered Connel. "The Solar Guard will cool them off!"

"I'm afraid it's too late," said Carson. "They're preparing to strike now. I've been expecting it for some time. They have enough ships and arms to wipe out the entire Solar Guard garrison here on Venus in one attack!" He shook his head. "After that, with Solar Guard ships and complete control of the planet—" He paused and sighed. "It will mean a long, bloody space war."

Tom and Connel plied the prisoners with questions and soon began to get a complete picture of the scope of the Nationalist movement.

"Lactu and his commanders should be sent to a prison asteroid for life," said Carson, "for what they have done to former Nationalists."

"Hundreds of unsuspecting Venusians have been brought here under the guise of helping to free Venus. But when they come and recognize what Lactu really intends to do, they want to quit. But it's too late, and they're sent to the caves."

Tom looked at the gaunt man fearfully. There was something in his voice that sent a chill down his spine.

"They are driven like cattle into the canyon walls," continued Carson. "There they are forced to dig the huge underground vaults for storage dumps. They are beaten and whipped and starved."

"Why aren't you in the caves then?" asked Connel.

"Some of us were," replied Carson. "But each of us here owns land and it is necessary to keep us alive to send back directives to our bankers and foremen to give aid in one form or another to Sharkey and the Division Chiefs."

"I see," said Connel. "If you were to die, then your property would be out of their reach."

"Exactly," said Carson.

"Is Sharkey the real leader of the movement?"

"I don't believe so. But then, no one knows. That's the idea of the frosted helmets. If you don't know who a man is, you can liquidate him without conscience. He may be your closest friend, but you would never know it."

"The blasted space crawlers!" growled Connel. "Well, they'll pay!"

"You have a plan?" asked Carson eagerly.

"No," said Connel slowly, "but at least we all have more of a chance now."

"How?" asked Carson.

"The Solar Guard sent us here to find this base. If we don't return, or send some sort of message back within a reasonable time, this jungle will be swarming with guardsmen!"

Carson looked a little disappointed. "We shall see," he said.

There were three things on Astro's mind as twilight darkened into night over the canyon. One, he had to find out why Roger wasn't with Tom and Connel when they were taken into the building; two, he had to figure out a way to contact Tom and Connel; and finally, he had to escape himself, or help Tom and Connel escape.

The big cadet finished the last job in the machine shop. It had taken very little time, but the big cadet had lingered over it, trying to find answers to his three problems. Around him, the workers were leaving their benches and lathes, to be replaced by still others. A twelve-hour shift was being used by the Nationalists in their frantic preparations for an attack on the Venusport garrison of the Solar Guard. Astro finally dropped the last wrench into the tool kit and straightened up. He stretched leisurely and glanced over at his guard. The man was still rubbing his stomach where Astro had hit him, and he watched the big cadet with a murderous gleam in his eye.

"All finished," said Astro. "Where and when do I eat?"

"If I had my way, you wouldn't," sneered the guard.

"Either I knock off and eat," said Astro confidently, "or I call the foreman and you talk to Lactu."

"Feeling pretty big, aren't you?" growled the guard. "I haven't forgotten that punch in the stomach."

"Why, I hardly touched you," said Astro in mock surprise.

The guard glared at him, muttered an oath, and turned away. Astro could see that he was boiling, almost out of his mind with helpless, frustrated anger, and suddenly the young cadet realized how he would be able to move about the base freely. Grinning, he walked arrogantly in front of the guard and out of the shop into the dark Venusian night. It was very warm and many of the workers had stripped down to their trousers. He passed the open doorway of a large tool shop and glanced inside. It was empty. The men had apparently gone to eat. He suddenly stopped, turned to the guard, and growled, "If you want to settle our differences now, we can step inside."

The guard hesitated and glared at Astro. "When I settle with you, big boy, you'll know about it."

"What's the matter with right now?" asked Astro. "Yellow?" He turned and walked into the tool shop without looking back. The guard rushed after him. But the big cadet had carefully gauged the distance between them, and when he heard the rushing steps of the guard immediately behind him, he suddenly spun around, swinging a roundhouse right, catching the guard in the pit of the stomach again. The man stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes bulged and glazed, and he dropped to the floor like a stone. Astro pulled the man to the corner of the empty shop, removed the plastic helmet, and then tied and gagged him. He pulled the helmet over his own head, nearly tearing one ear off, grabbed the gun and stepped back outside. He stood in front of the door and glanced up and down the area between the buildings. Fifty feet away a group of men were working over a tube casing, but they didn't even look up.