"I suppose," said Lynne, "they pick on telepaths because they can only enter minds opened for message-reception." "Probably," Lao informed her. "We can't be certain of anything until we know more about them and their motives. But you can see what a threat it has become. Thanks to the paralysis of lateral electronic communication, the survival of humanity on Mars depends almost entirely on telepaths. When these zombies or whatever they are take possession no telepath is worth a damn. Nor can any of them receive messages while the aliens are threatening them. If they do...." Lao's silence was eloquent. Lynne took a sip of oxygen as her breathing became difficult. They were approaching one of the semi-ruined structures, a vast edifice, squatter and broader than the slim pinnacle which contained the broadcasting room, whose lower facade was a mass of friezes in high-relief. Lynne, as part of her cultural training on Earth, had been taken on tours of the vast temples of India, Pakistan and Malaya--including Ankhor Vat. Yet not even the incredible and bizarre reliefs of those fabulous temples, with all of their grotesqueries and solemnly religious obscenities, prepared her for what she now saw. The pantheocratic creatures of ancient Mars were far more diverse than their counterparts on Earth--and of course utterly exotic. Here were creatures with two, three and four heads, with innumerable appendages, with reproductive organs so weird as to defy comment or moral reaction. * * * * * One feature Lynne noted at once. Like their Asiatic counterparts on Earth, they seemed to belong to a theocratic rather than a scientific culture--yet the buildings themselves were utterly beyond the creative techniques of even an interplanetary human culture. She said, "Are the other towers of Mars like this?" "In general," replied the Eurasian girl. "The aborigines seem to have been mostly a philosophic sort. Perhaps they became so when their planet began to die. All that have survived are such low life-orders as the _czanworm_ and sand-_lurtonk_. Unless, of course, the invisible ones are natives. I for one am inclined to believe they are." "So does Rolf Marcein," said Lynne. "You love him, don't you?" Lao asked matter-of-factly. "I'm beginning to be afraid so," said Lynne as frankly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," replied the other. "I love Revere, you know--and I don't expect to see him ever again." "I know," said Lynne, feeling her companion's unhappiness like a knife. She pulled the parka over her head although it was not the cool Martian afternoon breeze that was making her cold. She said, "It must have been very difficult for you--what you had to do to help get me here. I don't wonder if you hate me." "I don't hate you, Lynne," said Lao. "But if you fail on this job I shall. I should not enjoy sacrificing Revere for nothing."