amining his
internal organs. His stomach contracted. He felt a squeeze on his heart.
His lungs tickled.

There were several more queer motions inside his body.

Then another Steel-Blue voice said:

"He is a soft-metal creature, made up of metals that melt at a very low
temperature. He also contains a liquid whose makeup I cannot ascertain
by ray-probe. Bring him back when the torture is done."

Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. What kind of torture could this be?

Would it last 21 days? He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist.

Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alien ship and halted expectantly
just outside the ship's lock.

Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of the stubray pistol holstered at his
hip. Shoot my way out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But he toted up the
disadvantages.

He either would have to find a hiding place on the asteroid, and if the
Steel-Blues wanted him bad enough they could tear the whole place to
pieces, or somehow get aboard the little life ship hidden in the service
station.

In that he would be just a sitting duck.

He shrugged off the slight temptation to use the pistol. He was still
curious.

And he was interested in staying alive as long as possible. There was a
remote chance he might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously, he glanced
toward his belt to see the little power pack which, if under ideal
conditions, could finger out fifty thousand miles into space.

If he could somehow stay alive the 21 days he might be able to warn the
patrol. He couldn't do it by attempting to flee, for his life would be
snuffed out immediately.

The Steel-Blue said quietly:

"It might be ironical to let you warn that SP ship you keep thinking
about. But we know your weapon now. Already our ship is equipped with a
force field designed especially to deflect your atomic guns."

Jon Karyl covered up his thoughts quickly. They can delve deeper than
the surface of the mind. Or wasn't I keeping a leash on my thoughts?

The Steel-Blue chuckled. "You get--absent-minded, is it?--every once in
a while."

Just then four other Steel-Blues appeared lugging great sheets of
plastic and various other equipment.

They dumped their loads and began unbundling them.

Working swiftly, they built a plastic igloo, smaller than the living
room in the larger service station igloo. They ranged instruments
inside--one of them Jon Karyl recognized as an air pump from within the
station--and they laid out a pallet