Nick saw he could never reach shelter before the patrol rocket sighted him. He leaped forward, seized the Martian in both arms and carried him bodily the few steps to the protecting nook, dropping him and throwing himself flat just as the silvery hull appeared over the rim of the bowl. Susan awakened with a startled outcry but had the presence of mind to remain motionless until the rocket had roared away. "We'll have to watch out for them constantly," Nick warned. "They'll gun or bomb anything that moves." "Klev, what happened to you?" Susan asked anxiously as she saw the Martian's condition. He grimaced as he tried to sit up, his injuries not helped by Nick's necessarily rough treatment. Then he chirped a few sentences. "Oh Klev! You shouldn't have done it," she protested in English. "What is it?" Nick wanted to know. "The Council voted to attack Central Camp, using their _voras_ as weapons. Klev tried to warn them it would be suicide, and he and Merlo fought. Merlo is much younger, and although he has the Plague he's still strong. Then he accused Klev of treachery because he was friendly to us, and had him exiled to the surface too." The injured, beaten Martian touched Sue's hand and chirped a few words as though in apology. "When will they attack?" Nick asked. "Nineteen days from now," Susan translated the Martian's answer. "How?" "They'll come up through the tunnels into the old city, spread out, and attack the camp at night." Nick looked thoughtful. "What difference does it make?" Susan asked. "They'll all be killed on the charged barrier, if the proton cannon let them get that far. They can't win." "Maybe," was all Nick could reply. The heat grew unbearable, and several times during the long morning they were forced to change position to remain in the shade. They moved as little as possible, saving their energy and conserving their precious body water by avoiding any exertion that would bring on sweating. Only Klev remained in the sun, his alien body gratefully soaking up the harsh rays. Occasionally he moved, each motion bringing a half suppressed mew of pain to his lips. "How bad?" Nick asked. Susan shook her head. "He says he will be all right, but that swelling Merlo's _varlu_ made near his eye looks serious. His leg is badly hurt, and he's terribly old, Nick." By midafternoon their faces were flushed and dry, and the powder-fine sand itched intolerably where it had sifted into their clothing. Susan napped, but stirred restlessly and muttered of water. "Sue," Nick asked when she opened her eyes. "Is Klev in shape to talk sense?" The Martian saw his glance and chirped affirmatively, then clamped his thin lips to smother an exclamation of anguish. "Ask him if the passage through which they brought us up connects with any of the water caverns you mentioned." She looked at him inquiringly. "Might as well be killed by the Martians as die of thirst. Ask him."