The young man threw back his cloak. He had no left arm. "They took me for dead. The Q-rays burned away my arm and I fell with the others. I was buried among the corpses. But my friends found me later. There wasn't much life in me, but they nourished it, and I am here." "No!" screamed Rastol. "It's not true! It's a lie!" [Illustration: "No!" screamed Rastol. "It's not true ... it's a lie!"] He wavered away from his son's gaze and half fell into a chair. "You deny it," said Acton. "Come, we'll tell the people. They will decide. We'll go to the great square and ask them whom they believe--Rastol or the Green Arrow." "No," said Rastol. "No ... no." * * * * * Back in the Galactic News Service bureau, Scott Warren came to the last paragraph of _Today on Mars_. He had written his quota of words about Landing Day and the speeches and parades and carnival. He had a story bigger than any of this, of course, but he couldn't use it. Toby Black asked him not to; not yet. Rastol had declined Acton's challenge to go before the people. There in Kring's house, under the hard eyes of his son, Rastol had written a letter to President Murain and signed it. The rest would come later. It took time to get the legal wheels in motion, to prepare a genocide case; but although World Government moved slowly sometimes, it did move. In two months or three or six, Rastol would be indicted and tried, and this time there would be no doubt of the verdict. In the meantime.... Scott wrote: "Elsewhere on Mars, these things happened: Fire broke out in Senalla, driving fifty persons from their homes. No one was injured, but damage to the apartment house block was extensive.... A collision between two air-cars sent three persons to the hospital in Iopa with critical injuries.... A sandstorm blowing across the desert 100 miles northeast of Iopa has cut communications with the town of Ramor.... And Rastol decided against accepting the post of commerce minister, which had been offered to him by President Murain. Rastol said he was honored by the offer, but that the pressure of private affairs made it impossible for him to accept." Scott Warren typed "30" at the end of his copy and sent it off to Interradio for transmission to Earth. He resigned himself to the possibility that the night desk in the New York bureau would cut out his last paragraph to save space.