"Twice, at least. But each time the water-_voras_ pumped it to other caves. Martians don't drink, but they saw the Exploiters shipping water clear from Earth and realized its importance. We, and they, hoped the Exploiters would eventually give up and leave. Oh, if only Dad had told Harmon that Mars was completely arid!" Nick got up and prowled restlessly around the room. "Are they going to starve us?" he asked petulantly. His emergency rations were in his jacket, which Merlo had kept. "Oh, no." Susan realized she was hungry too. "There's food here." She led him into the back room, where a series of shelves were carved into the walls. Each shelf was covered with disc-shaped, fungoid-looking growths. "When they turn pink like this they're ready to eat," she explained. Nick found them tasteless and unsatisfying. She saw his grimace. "Dad and I lived on them ever since the Exploiters came," she declared. "No wonder you're thin," he retorted ungraciously, chewing on the pulpy mass. It was only at his remark that she realized her face and hands were grimy and her clothing totally inadequate. She blushed. "Don't stare at me like that!" she snapped. Nick found the queer faucet-like arrangement in one corner. "Water!" he said, gulping thirstily. They both drank and washed, cleaning their skins of the powder-fine sand that could work its way into the pores and cause a tormenting rash. "What were you and your father doing on the surface when you tried to scrag me?" he asked without rancor. He had been shot at so often in his short life that he bore no ill feelings. It was a normal incident. "Dad was desperate. He was going to get an Exploiter's uniform and try to sneak in and steal the supply ship. But poor Dad wouldn't shoot from ambush and that Exploiter got his gun out as he died." "Oh!" Nick was astounded and somewhat puzzled by the quixotic idealism of the scientist. A gunman with Gravinol-speeded reactions was no joke, and Nick, trained to kill in the most efficient manner possible, would have fired from ambush without hesitation. They sat for a while, each immersed in his own thoughts. Nick tried to lay multiple plans for whatever might happen, but his thoughts grew blurred and fuzzy. He threw himself down upon the couch. "Let's sleep," he said. "There's nothing we can do now, and we'd better be in shape when things do start popping." "Well!" Susan gasped. He showed no intention of giving her the single bed. Evidently he had never heard of chivalry. "Are you coming to sleep or not?" he demanded in irritation. She considered carefully, and at last lay down as far away from him as possible. The chairs were uncomfortable and the stone floor was cold. As she settled herself a brown roll at the foot of the couch unfolded and flowed up over them like a cover. For a moment Nick threshed, remembering the _varlu_, but when it did not squeeze or numb him he quieted. "Another _vora_?" he asked, still uneasy. Susan nodded.