had stopped, and that the vessel was motionless, held only by turbines of its degravitation mechanism.
The bodies of the spaceguidesmen had been removed from the seats behind the directional controls, and save for the guard and Dawson, the bridge was deserted.
Dawson tried weakly to rise, supporting himself with one hand as he managed to get to one knee.
The burly guard acted viciously and without warning, bringing the butt of his electrorifle smashing down on Dawson's shoulder, knocking him to the deck once more.
"Stay there," the guard snarled. "You're less likely to make trouble that way!"
Footsteps sounded, coming up the bridge ladder.
Another hulking spaceman appeared at the bridge entrance. He was armed with two atomic pistols, strapped to either side of his waist.
"Orders are to bring this one down to his stateroom," the new arrival told Dawson's guard.
The man with the electrorifle stepped back, grinning at Dawson mockingly.
"Now get up," he told him.
Dawson rose painfully, swaying slightly, one hand pressed to the angry gash on his head.
The guard with the rifle gestured, stepping aside.
"Move ahead of me," he commanded. "And don't try no tricks."
Still swaying somewhat, Dawson lurched forward and the man with the electrorifle stepped behind him, prodding the muzzle of the weapon into his back.
The spaceman with the twin atomic pistols stepped aside as Dawson neared the bridge entrance.
"You go ahead with this one," he said. "I'll follow and make double certain there isn't no funny stuff."
At the bridge ladder, Dawson hesitated an instant, holding to the duralloy side rails while he tried to summon strength enough to fight off the dizziness assailing him.
And then he caught his first sight of the Venusian cruiser.
It was lying half a mile abeam of the Astera, sleek, black, ominous. Even from where Dawson stood at the bridge entrance, he could make out the grim silhouettes of the heavy guns aboard the enemy craft. They were guns which could deciminate the huge but unprotected Astera inside of five minutes, and undoubtedly they were at that moment trained on the big luxury space liner.
Dawson cursed bitterly.
His guard prodded him viciously with the point of the electrorifle and laughed harshly.
"You got visitors, Captain," he chortled. There was mockery in the title he used.
Dawson steeled himself, lips tight, and started down the bridge ladder. His guard followed close behind.
WHEN Dawson stepped from the ladder to the deck there was another armed spaceman waiting, and he joined his two comrades as they escorted Dawson along the dimly lighted promenade to his stateroom.
Dawson's stateroom door was ajar when they arrived there. Light poured forth from the room, and the sound of voices could be heard. His guard prodded Dawson through the doorway, and he stood there in the room an instant blinking, trying to focus his eyes to the sudden glare.
"Well, well, Captain Dawson," a nasal voice greeted him smirkingly. "So nice of you to join us."
Dawson saw the speaker, then. He was a thin, waspish man, with sharp,
