"Maybe," he said, "maybe not. Maybe we couldn't recognize the machines, fathom the tools. Mechanical and technical development here probably wasn't any more parallel to ours than intelligence development." "There's the rocket cradle," retorted Scott. "Same principle as we use on Earth. And they must have a radio in there. And a telescope. We'd be able to figure them out. Might even be able to send Doc Alexander a message." "Yeah," agreed Hugh, "I thought of that, too. But we can't get in the building and that settles it." "The bugs get under my skin," Scott complained. "Always buzzing around. Always busy. But busy at what? Like a bunch of hornets." "They're the straw bosses of the outfit," declared Hugh. "Carrying out the orders of the Martians. The Martians' hands and eyes you might say." He dug at the sand with the toe of his space boot. "Another swarm of them took off just before we started out on this trip," he said. "While you were in the ship. I watched them until they disappeared. Straight up and out until you couldn't see them. Just like they were taking off for space." He kicked savagely at the sand. "I sure as hell would like to know where they go," he said. "There've been quite a few of them leaving lately," said Scott. "As if the building were a hive and they were new swarms of bees. Maybe they're going out to start new living centers. Maybe they're going to build more buildings...." * * * * * He stopped and stared straight ahead of him, his eyes unseeing. Going out to start new living centers! Going out to build new buildings! Shining metallic buildings! Like a cold wind from the past it came to him, a picture of that last night on Earth. He heard the whining wind on Mt. Kenya once again, the blaring of the radio from the machine shop door, the voice of the newscaster. "_Austin Gordon ... Congo Valley ... strange metallic city ... inhabited by strange metallic insects!_" The memory shook him from head to foot, left him cold and shivery with his knowledge. "Hugh!" he croaked. "Hugh, I know what it's all about!" His brother stared at him: "Take it easy, kid. Don't let it get you. Stick with me, kid. We're going to make it all right." "But, Hugh," Scott yelled, "there's nothing wrong with me. Don't you see, I know the answer to all this Martian business now. The lilies are the Martians! Those bugs are migrating to Earth. They're machines. Don't you see ... they could cross space and the lilies would be there to direct them." He jumped to his feet. "They're already building cities in the Congo!" he yelled. "Lord knows how many other places. They're taking over the Earth! The Martians are invading the Earth, but Earth doesn't know it!" "Hold on," Hugh yelled back at him. "How could flowers build cities?"