By LEIGH BRACKETTIt was a Gypsy world, built of space flotsam,
peopled with the few free races of the Solar
System. Roy Campbell, outcast prey of the
Coalition, entered its depths to seek haven
for the Kraylens of Venus—only to find that it
had become a slave trap from which there was no escape.
Roy Campbell woke painfully. His body made a blind, instinctive lunge for the control panel, and it was only when his hands struck the smooth, hard mud of the wall that he realized he wasn't in his ship any longer, and that the Spaceguard wasn't chasing him, their guns hammering death.
He leaned against the wall, the perspiration thick on his heavy chest, his eyes wide and remembering. He could feel again, as though the running fight were still happening, the bucking of his sleek Fitz-Sother
