Gena's face clouded. "Life is a struggle, Earthman. Forever and beyond, perhaps. We Metiphrons have achieved to unity and peace. But on Mars evolution took two parallel paths. That which culminated in the Metiphrons, my people, arising as on Earth from the lowly protozoa. And with it, keeping pace, that of the crustacean--culminating in the opposite life form of Mars--the Sediphrons. For centuries now they have fought us for mastery of the planet. Somewhat related to your arachnidæ, their later evolution has been consciously anthropomorphic, as they strove to imitate us in everything, even in bodily shape. Their motives?" The girl smiled bleakly. "The ancient motives of life--to enslave us, to be dominant on the planet, to infuse our blood with their own in order to speed their anthropomorphic evolution--and finally, to use as food those of us not suitable for slaves or to bear their hybrid progeny. "You can see why the very thought of them is repugnant to us. Why every female bears arms from infancy. And why we hoped to find aid, from the females here on Earth, for our fight to crush the Sediphrons." Hammond nodded. "Then the Metiphron males don't bear arms?" "Bear arms?" Gena smiled. "The males attend to our machinery, take care of the incubators and watch our young until they are able to take care of themselves. But fight?" She shook her head, as if the idea were strange and almost laughable. Hammond grinned. "Things are somewhat changed around on Earth, Gena. The women do plenty of scrapping here, of course--and there's some who would insist they have it over the males, most of the time, in domestic life. But the really big blowoffs, like the ones going on in Europe and in Asia--they're still strictly for males." The girl commander shrugged, dubiously. "Men are too phlegmatic to make good fighters." She broke off, caught by a warning red signal that suddenly flashed to life on a complicated instrument board to left of the desk. For the space of several seconds she concentrated, her pretty brow slightly furrowed. When she turned to Hammond there was a worried frown in her eyes. "My audiodetector indicates the proximity of a strange space ship. Its commander does not answer my telepathic inquiries. Something is definitely wrong. I must place my sub-officers on the alert. Also Ardiné, my division commander, who is conducting the search for your friend, Peter Storm." Once more she concentrated on the issuance of telepathic orders. * * * * * The floor suddenly lurched violently beneath them. Hammond thrown off balance, went down to his hands. He twisted erect, supple as a cat, and reached out a supporting arm for Gena, who had been thrown against the desk. A strange thrill tingled through him at the softness of her.