The three wheeled together and headed straight for the outcropping, while Nick and Susan crouched low to keep their heads below the skyline. They came on and on until Nick began to have an uneasy suspicion they had been spotted, but at last they turned aside. "Nick!" Susan's voice was vibrant with hatred. "That man in the turret of the center car is Gerald Harmon himself!" Nick shielded his eyes and tried to study the tiny figure in the plastic dome, but the distance was too great to distinguish details. He cursed fluently and wished for any sort of power weapon, understanding now why the spaceship had seemed larger and sleeker than the usual freighters. The overlord of the Martian Exploitation Company had come to investigate in person, bringing his own personal cruiser. Nick tried to rest, falling at last into an uneasy sleep disturbed by dreams of rippling streams and drenching rainstorms. He slept until the rays of the sinking sun crept under the ledge to bring him back to the realization of his arid, deadly surroundings. But somewhere amid his dreams an idea had been born. "You can handle a spacer, can't you?" he asked. "Certainly. You don't think Dad handled the _Trailblazer_ alone?" "Good. There may be a chance for you then. I don't like that blue-faced Merlo at all, but we have to play along with him. And this thing is bigger than any of us as individuals." "You've seen how the camp is built in a hollow to protect it from the wind?" "Yes, but--" "They never thought of floods." Susan's eyes gleamed as she sensed his idea. "You mean if the Martians made their water-_voras_--?" "A dozen _voras_ and a dozen water caves. The barrier would short out and the Martians could get in. There'd be hell's very own confusion and no lights. You might make it." "And you?" "Merlo is a blue-faced, pigheaded, tradition-bound fool, and no general. He'd just beat his men's lives out against the charged barrier without thinking of the only weapon he has that's worth a damn. I'm going down and tell him, right now. The attack is tomorrow night." Susan's grey eyes searched his face. "Aren't you a bit confused?" she asked mildly. "How?" He was annoyed at her implied criticism. "You are a fighter. I'm not. I speak Martian. You don't." "They'd kill you, Sue! I can't let--" "Then tell me, in Martian, just what you'd say to Merlo!" "But--" She threw his own words back at him. "This thing is bigger than any one of us. I'm going." Reluctantly he agreed that her words made sense. "All right," he sighed. "Tell Klev." The Martian broke into twittering, remonstrating speech as Susan explained, pointing at himself. Slowly and painfully he climbed to his feet and took a few uncertain steps. But then his injured leg collapsed and he crawled ignominiously back. "That leaves it to me," Susan declared. "Roll that boulder out of the way."