One of the raiders laughed contemptuously and shoved the pair of them ahead still faster. They reached the narrow doorway that led out to the street. Then, while their prisoners paused, two of the raiders stepped outside. A knot of tension drew tight in the pit of Haral's stomach. He let his shoulders slump, and slouched, half-turning. Namboina stumbled on through the door. A _Pervod_ pushed the blue man forward. With studied care, Haral, too, stumbled. He caught the handle of the open door as if to keep himself from falling. Then, like lightning, he was turning, kicking. The _Pervod_ crashed backward with a howl of anguish. Haral leaped through the doorway, out into the street, slamming the heavy portal shut behind him. He caught a glimpse of the two crewmen there--startled, whirling. But Namboina was between Haral and the raiders. Savagely, the blue man threw himself against the priest and sent him crashing into the nearest crewman. The second of the raiders was a one-eyed, barrel-chested _Malya_. He leaped back, cat-fast, whipping up his ray-gun. But Haral dived in beneath its shaft. His shoulder drove deep into the _Malya's_ midriff, hammering the dark raider down. Clutching for the ray-gun, he tore it out of the other's hand. In the same instant, he heard Namboina cry out in panic. By instinct, pure and simple, he dropped flat on his belly. By instinct, too, he fired the ray-gun--straight into the face of the second raider, free now and charging down upon him. The raider dropped dead in his tracks. Haral pivoted, just as the door to the _kabat_-dive jerked open. Again he triggered the weapon. The charge caught the Martian in charge of the party square in the belly. The others, behind him, sprang back inside, out of the way. * * * * * The narrow street echoed with Haral's wild, reckless laughter. Lurching to his feet, he stood there swaying for a moment, looking this way and that for old Namboina. But the _Shamon_ had disappeared as if by magic, and from within the _kabat-dive_ came sounds that spoke of preparations for another sally. Whirling. Haral raced full-tilt for the nearest alley. When he stopped again, he was half a mile and a hundred worlds away, lost in the tangled maze of passageways that wound through the crumbling heart of the native town. His legs were shaking, his lungs afire, and the _kabat_-sickness swirled through him in agonizing, nauseous waves. Choking and retching, he slumped exhausted in a murky entryway. Then that, too, passed, and he lay silent and unmoving in the darkness. But now another sickness was upon him, the sickness that led him to seek surcease in _kabat_; the sickness that came with the thoughts he could not push out of his brain.