Engstrand's voice was loud. It seemed to Mary that he was right there in the cabin with Michelson. "It's obvious what happened, Mike! Those first experimental rockets we sent up there. The damn Martians got hold of one of those chimps and worked on it. Sent it back and we didn't suspect the difference. They made it intelligent enough to plan and execute this whole thing! They must have put one of their own brains into it or something. Only a damn Martian would think of a thing like that!" Michelson's head raised quickly. From the side, Mary could see his eyes suddenly widen. Then he wiped his hand across his lips. The hand trembled. "Of course," he whispered then. "But who could ever have suspected it?" "That's the only explanation," Engstrand said. "We've got to have that chimp alive! We can learn plenty from it. We'll cut in there and put that brain under observation...." "I'll do what I can, if Mary shows up here," Michelson said. "But those Guards should get here!" "They will, Mike! They will! They're on their way." Mary dug her fingers into the floor. She moved slightly, and one hand fell with a slight thud. Michelson looked down. He kept on staring. His lips moved without saying anything a few times, then he stammered. "Engstrand--she's here!" "What? What?" "She's here--here on the floor. She just--just crawled in through the door!" "Don't kill her! Get a hypo or something--" Michelson slowly stood up. "There's no danger," he finally said, still looking down at her. "She's wounded all right. She looks almost dead now." "Don't let her die!" Engstrand's voice filled the room. "You've got to keep her alive!" "All right, I'll do what I can," Michelson said. "You'd better come up now. Bring the medics. We may have to work on her fast." "I will. I'm on my way!" * * * * * She wanted to say no. She wanted to scream out no and tell him it was all wrong. If the Martians had given her the ability to speak, she could have explained everything long before this, and they could have helped her, and none of this would have happened. She could explain how she was forced to kill and destroy. Michelson backed away from her, haltingly, then ran into the lab. He came back out and knelt down. He had a long hypodermic needle. The needle came down. It looked bigger and bigger. She had thought maybe he would understand. But he didn't. He couldn't. Nobody could. A few words could have made all the difference. But she could not speak. What she wanted to explain most of all was that it was no kind of Martian intelligence that had been given to her. The Martians had no familiar kind of intelligence. They had worked on her, developed her own brain to its capacity. If they only knew that here it would be so different. I'm more like you, she wanted to explain, more like you than you could possibly guess. She could say nothing.