"Comparatively few, but it allows us greater freedom of movement, greater capacity for cooperative effort. Most of the Martian commoners fell for the Zharkonistic program though." La Crue, who had been a psycho-medic in the guards, knew what he was talking about. "They were ripe for a crackpot philosophy like Zharkon provided. Too much specialization and not enough varied interests for individuals. Resultant mass hysteria. The old Zharkonian Royalists were just waiting in exile for such a break to move in. They've always resented the Martian revolution which established representative government on Mars. Anyway, there's another strong subversive Underground right here on Earth now, as well as on Mars and several other planets. We have cooked up a rather mad plan, or rather an old friend of yours has cooked it up. He won't even trust me with the details. He says only you and Kewpie Doll can carry it through." "Let's get to that later," said Venard impatiently. "I want to know how Larson and I got out of that Concentration Camp explosion alive? Or did we?" "The explosion itself wasn't sufficiently powerful to kill everyone, though it did a lot of damage. Partly luck, of course, that you survived. You would have been crushed when the structure crumbled after the explosion, if it hadn't been for this old friend of yours who dragged you two not only to safety, but to an escape tunnel and here to the Underground; with help of course. There were some of us there to meet him." "Who is this old friend?" said Venard dutifully. "This old friend, Karl, was one of the Martie Guards. He didn't know you had the memory-crystal and you darn near blew him to pieces, too." "One of the Martie Guards!" exclaimed Venard. "That's madness. You mean--?" "That's right, Karl. You see this Underground of ours--this particular post, that is--is located pretty close to Concentration Camp 7. We've been digging an escape tunnel into Camp 7. This Martie was supposed to work with us. At a specified time, he was supposed to lead as many of the hostages as possible into this escape tunnel. But you beat us to it with the memory-sphere. The chaos helped the escape." "But this old friend," persisted Venard. "Are you sure he's my old friend?" "Yeah," grinned La Crue, "this old friend claims you're the only man living, Karl, who ever beat him ten consecutive games of sun-spot draw and--" "Jhongan!" cried Venard. "Jhongan, that leathery monstrosity. That animated sponge. That--_he_ was one of those lousy guards? Why--" * * * * * Venard turned, and there was the Martian, his skin iridescent in the cold light. "Hello, you old space-eater," he said in that peculiar, slurred accent.