The man coughed and retched, and Lawrence clamped a hand over his mouth to silence him. Another quick blow and the Vegan dropped. Quietly, Lawrence dragged him away and deposited him in a closet nearby. Then he returned to the line. Now there would be one broom for each man, no more. * * * * * When everyone was supplied, they marched solemnly back out the door of the supply-room. Obediently, Lawrence followed along. No one seemed to notice that a man was missing or that there was a stranger in the group. They marched to the middle of the plaza, and there the first man in the group bent and pried off a manhole. Then the Vegans began disappearing even further into the earth. Tunnels within tunnels! His turn came and he followed on down into the tunnel. For the first time, one of the Vegans spoke, barking a short instruction in a harsh, guttural language. Lawrence heard the sound of air blowing through pipes, then the sound of machinery grinding, then the slow whistle of the air-flow ceasing. He realized where he was and what the crew was about to do, and his heart surged. He had a plan, now. He was in one of the air-shafts that fed the great subterranean Vegan base. The air had just been shut off in this particular tube, and the crew of Vegans he had joined was about to set to work scrubbing the tube, ridding it of any impurities that might have accumulated. Now he knew what to do. As he scrubbed merrily through the shining length of the tube, he began to form his strategy. It involved getting out of the tube, for one thing, and getting to a medical office, if they had any such thing in the base. That was the first step. He counted to ten, then threw his broom in the air and uttered a piercing shriek. Then he fell to the ground, panting and gasping, and lay there flat against the cold metal of the airshaft. Instantly his co-workers gathered around him. Twenty dark, unfriendly faces peered down, and they began to gabble something in their language that probably was the equivalent of "What's the matter with you?" He lolled his head from side to side as if to indicate that he had suffered a stroke of some kind and couldn't speak. Drawing on his psychiatric experience, Lawrence offered a good imitation of a catatonic seizure, so convincing that before long he himself had burst out in a cold sweat as he lay rigid there. Another Vegan came over--evidently a superior--and rattled out a quick command. Immediately, two of the broom-workers put down their tools and hoisted Lawrence between them. They began to march back through the airshaft with him, up and out into the plaza again. They carried him into a tall, gleaming building which was presumably the medical office. He allowed one corner of his lip to curl upward in a smile of satisfaction. So far, so good. * * * * *