he
system of Circe, plotting a landing orbit around Warlock, broadcasting
her recognition signal and a demand for a beam to ride her in. Only,
this time the Throgs were out of luck. They had picked up one prisoner
who could not help them, even if he wanted to do so. The mysteries of
the highly technical installations in this dome were just that to Shann
Lantee--complete mysteries. He had not the slightest idea of how to
activate the machines, let alone broadcast in the proper code.

A cold spot of terror gathered in his middle, spreading outward through
his smarting body. For he was certain that the Throgs would not believe
that. They would consider his protestations of ignorance as a stubborn
refusal to co-operate. And what would happen to him then would be beyond
human endurance. Could he bluff--play for time? But what would that time
buy him except to delay the inevitable? In the end, that small hope
based on his momentary contact with Thorvald made him decide to try that
bluff.

There had been changes in the com dome since the capture of the cap. A
squat box on the floor sprouted a collection of tubes from its upper
surface. Perhaps that was some Throg equivalent of Terran equipment in
place on the wide table facing the door.

The Throg leader clicked into his translator: "You call ship!"

Shann was thrust down into the operator's chair, his bound arms still
twisted behind him so that he had to lean forward to keep on the seat at
all. Then the Throg who had pushed him there, roughly forced a set of
com earphones and speech mike onto his head.

"Call ship!" clicked the alien officer.

So time must be running out. Now was the moment to bluff. Shann shook
his head, hoping that the gesture of negation was common to both their
species.

"I don't know the code," he said aloud.

The Throg's bulbous eyes gazed, at his moving lips. Then the translator
was held before the Terran's mouth. Shann repeated his words, heard them
reissue as a series of clicks, and waited. So much depended now on the
reaction of the beetle-head officer. Would he summarily apply pressure
to enforce his order, or would he realize that it was possible that all
Terrans did not know that code, and so he could not produce in a
captive's head any knowledge that had never been there--with or without
physical coercion?

Apparently the latter logic prevailed for the present. The Throg drew
the translator back to his mandibles.

"When ship call--y