The Merchandise Guide
Annual 1976

The strong, calloused hands that had gripped Helena Russell's shoulders had brought her up short with a numbing jerk. Had spilled the comlock from her hands. She had heard it smash on the rock beneath her feet in the second before her mouth had opened wide to scream for help. But that scream had never left her throat. Instead it had been the bearded lips of one of her captors that had parted to let loose the bellow of victory. She had time to see the skin-clad bodies of the men who held her before, mercifully, she fainted. The mists had swirled briefly in the mouth of the cave before her, and then she was dragged, inert, back into the complex labyrinth of tunnels that led to the underworld of this stange and savage planet. . . When Helena's senses returned--was it moments later, or perhaps hours--she was in some kind of primitive dwelling, deep beneath the surface. Here it was warm, but there was no comfort in it. They still held her, the two men who had caught her. And their voices were unintelligible grunts. But there must have been some kind of telepathy-- some curious instinct that made her understand exactly what they were, and why they had made her prisoner. "I didn't know," she said, fighting down the terror that all but consumed her. "I didn't mean to invade your--your sacred place!" They gave no sign that they had understood. "Oh, John! If only you could hear me! Victor and I found some kind of temple--some sanctuary where they house their ancestors! They're going to kill me for violating it! Please--please help me!"

But no help came. Whimpering, Helena was dragged into a vast chamber--a haphazard jumble of halp- constructed archways and pillars, overhung with moss. A chamber where skin-clad figures, both male and female, grimaced at her and shook their fists, and flashed their eyes with hostile and unmistakable hate! At one end, the big stone slab that could only be some form of altar. . . "Nnnarrgh! Garrrgh!" The sounds were meaningless, but Helena could hear them, translated within her brain, as clearly as if they had been in plain English! "Sacrifice! Sacrifice!" Once again, the blackness of oblivion descended on Helena Russell. Despairingly, she knew she was passing into a state of unconsciousness from which she might never recover. . . "Commander!" The voice of Paul Morrow cut through Koenig's mind as he staggered to the yawning entrance of the underground cave system. "Commander! I have urgent contact from Moonbase! There was a mistake in estimation of the planet's orbit! It's pulling away from them fast. On an ellipse! We've got to abandon any thought of project Exodus to bring us down here . . . we've got to get back or we'll be stranded!" Horrified, Helena Russell realised that she was a captive of primitives--but their grunting language seemed to make itself understood! They meant to kill her!

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