e ambition of the U.F.W. boss.

A dozen men and women lurched at Hunter from an open hall. They wore
white hospital robes and their foreheads were still bandaged.
Obviously they were patients with recently grafted slave grids.
Obedient to the transmission, they fought with a desperate, savage
fury--and a clumsy lack of co-ordination which caricatured normal
human behavior.

Hunter repulsed their attack without difficulty. Yet he felt an inner
disgust and loathing as if he were using his strength to defeat
helpless children. In two minutes it was over. One of the men was
dead, his head bandage torn loose, and the grid ripped out of his
skull. Three more lay sprawled out on the floor, bleeding badly from
freshly opened incisions.

Hunter drew his blaster and entered the thickly-carpeted hall, glowing
with the soft, pink light of the luminous, Martian stone. He cried
Ann's name. His voice fell hollowly in the silence, but there was no
response. He moved to the end of the hall and pushed open a narrow
door.

He saw the white-tiled laboratory, Ann's transmitter standing on a
long table with new platinum grids piled by the dozen beside it, and
the barrack rows of hospital beds. From the angle of the room which
was hidden by the half-open door, Ann Saymer ran toward him with
outstretched hands, crying his name. He took a step toward her. And
something struck the back of his head.

IX

Hunter's mind rocked. He felt himself falling down the long spiral
into unconsciousness. The blaster slipped from his hand and his knees
buckled. But he clawed blindly, with animal instinct, at the hands
closing on his throat.

His head cleared. He saw Eric Young's dark face close to his. Hunter
swung his fist into Young's stomach, and the hands slid away from his
throat. Captain Hunter sprang to his feet, crouching low to meet
Young's next attack. Young's swing went wild. Hunter's fist struck at
the flabby jaw. Eric Young backed away, reeling under the hammer
blows, until he came up against the laboratory table.

Suddenly he slashed at Hunter with a scalpel. The blade nicked Max's
shoulder and cut across his jacket. The cloth parted, sliding down his
arms and pinning his hands together. In the split-second it took
Hunter to free himself from the torn jacket, Young swung the scalpel
again. Hunter dodged. Miscalculating his aim, Eric Young tripped over
Hunter's outstretched leg and fell, screaming, upon the point of his
own weapon.