.

When they were done Jon saw a miniature reproduction of the service
station, lacking only the cannon cap and fin, and with clear plastic
walls instead of the opaqueness of the other.

His Steel-Blue said: "We have reproduced the atmosphere of your station
so that you be watched while you undergo the torture under the normal
conditions of your life."

"What is this torture?" Jon Karyl asked.

The answer was almost caressing: "It is a liquid we use to dissolve
metals. It causes joints to harden if even so much as a drop remains on
it long. It eats away the metal, leaving a scaly residue which crumbles
eventually into dust.

"We will dilute it with a harmless liquid for you since No. 1 does not
wish you to die instantly.

"Enter your"--the Steel-Blue hesitated--"mausoleum. You die in your own
atmosphere. However, we took the liberty of purifying it. There were
dangerous elements in it."

Jon walked into the little igloo. The Steel-Blues sealed the lock,
fingered dials and switches on the outside. Jon's space suit deflated.
Pressure was building up in the igloo.

He took a sample of the air, found that it was good, although quite rich
in oxygen compared with what he'd been using in the service station and
in his suit.

With a sigh of relief he took off his helmet and gulped huge draughts of
the air.

He sat down on the pallet and waited for the torture to begin.

The Steel Blues crowded about the igloo, staring at him through
elliptical eyes.

Apparently, they too, were waiting for the torture to begin.

Jon thought the excess of oxygen was making him light-headed.

He stared at a cylinder which was beginning to sprout tentacles from the
circle. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. An opening, like the
adjustable eye-piece of a spacescope, was appearing in the center of the
cylinder.

A square, glass-like tumbler sat in the opening disclosed in the
four-foot cylinder that had sprouted tentacles. It contained a yellowish
liquid.

One of the tentacles reached into the opening and clasped the glass. The
opening closed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotor appendages,
moved toward Jon.

He didn't like the looks of the liquid in the tumbler. It looked like an
acid of some sort. He raised to his feet.

He unsheathed the stubray gun and prepared to blast the cylinder.

* * * * *

The cylinder moved so fast Jon felt his eyes jump in his head. He
brought the stubray gu