noticed curious-looking machines behind, what he judged to be, the odd
bulges on the outside of the hull. Ahead of him, a hatch was partially
open and he could see light streaking through the opening. He gripped
his rifle tightly, finger on the trigger, and moved forward.

At the hatch he paused and looked into the next compartment. From the
opposite side, he saw another hatch partially open and the outline of
Roger's head and shoulders. Between them, a man was bending over a
makeshift desk, copying information from a calculator and a set of
blueprints. Tom nodded across to Roger and they both stepped into the
compartment at the same time.

"Put up your hands, mister, or I'll freeze you so hard it'll take a
summer on the Venus equator to warm you up," Roger drawled.

The man jerked upright, stumbled back from the desk, and moved toward
Tom, keeping his eyes on Roger. He backed into the barrel of Tom's ray
gun and stopped, terrified. He threw up his hands.

"What--wh--" he stammered and then caught himself. "How dare you do this
to me?" he demanded.

"Shut up!" snapped Tom. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," the man replied.

"I'm making it my business," snapped Tom, pressing the gun into the
man's back. "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

The man turned and looked Tom in the eye. "I have a right to be here,"