Maybe ... perhaps ... why? Speculation and wonderment. But there was no answer. Not even the slightest hint. Just the building shimmering in the unsetting Sun, the metallic bugs buzzing in the air, the lilies nodding in the breeze that blew across the desert. * * * * * Scott Nixon reached the rim of the plateau and lowered the bag of roots from his shoulder, resting and waiting for Hugh to toil up the remaining few yards of the slope. Before him, slightly over four miles across the plain, loomed the Martian building. Squatting at its base was the battered, pitted space ship. There was too much ozone in the atmosphere here for the steel in the ship to stand up. Before many years had passed it would fall to pieces, would rust away. But that made little difference, for by that time they probably wouldn't need it. By that time another ship would have arrived or they would be dead. Scott grinned grimly. A hard way to look at things. But the only way. One had to be realistic here. Hard-headed planning was the only thing that would carry them through. The food supply was short and while they'd probably be able to gather enough for the coming winter, there was always the possibility that the next season would find them short. But there was hope to cling to. Always hope. Hope that the summer would bring another ship winging out of space ... that this time, armed by past experience, they could prevent its destruction. Hugh came up with Scott, slid the bag of roots to the ground and sat upon it. He nodded at the building across the desert. "That's the nerve center of the whole business," he declared. "If we could get into it...." His voice trailed away. "But we can't," Scott reminded him. "We've tried and we can't. There are no doors. No openings. Just those little holes the bugs fly in and out of." "There's a door somewhere," said Hugh. "A hidden door. The bugs use it to bring out machines to do the work when they shoot a rocket out for Earth. I've seen the machines. Screwy looking things. Work units pure and simple but so efficient you'd swear they possessed intelligence. I've tried to find the door but I never could and the bugs always waited until I wasn't around before they moved the machines in or out of the building." He chuckled, scrubbing his bearded face with a horny hand. "That rocket business saved my life," he said. "If the power lead running out of the building to the cradle hadn't been there I'd been sunk. But there it was, full of good, old electricity. So I just tapped the thing and that gave me plenty of power ... power for heat, for electrolysis, for atmospheric condensation." Scott sank down heavily on his sack. "It's enough to drive a man nuts," he declared. "We can reach out and touch the building with our hand. Just a few feet away from the explanation of all this screwiness. Inside that building we'd find things we'd be able to use. Machines, tools...." Hugh hummed under his breath.