To keep his mind occupied, he counted off the required minutes for the serum to take effect. Then, when the time had passed, he gave the injured arm an experimental twist. It flapped loosely at the break, as before, and Abner stirred and moaned behind the veil of his unconsciousness. The serum had failed. _Unheard of!_ * * * * * Straightening, MacMartree felt his particular affliction engulf him. Anger, wild, unreasoning anger at this intangible, invisible enemy that tormented them so. Cursing, he scooped up the vial of serum, flung it to clatter against the shimmering force-screen. But it did not. It passed through the curtain which was suddenly nothing more than thinning mist ... and then not even that. "Weapons!" MacMartree cried, his voice a hoarse bellow. "Weapons and positions! Quickly!" Phillips and Cole scrambled to obey. The three conscious men huddled back to back around the body of the unconscious one. Their weapons were small and unfamiliar in their waiting hands, and not the least bit reassuring. They waited for whatever it was that stalked them from beyond the ring of their glaring lamplight to come for them, battle with them, make itself known. "MacMartree," Phillips whispered in the throbbing stillness. "Well? Are you sick again?" "No, no--I just thought...." "Yes?" "The screen, the serum ... failing that way. What if ... the _weapons_...." A piece of eternity passed them by before MacMartree could make his lips form the command. "Test--your weapons." Nothing. Tentatively, fearfully, the three squeezed the metal in their icy hands. _Nothing._ No rush of power, no leaping death to meet their adversary when it came. Their weapons, too, had failed them. Behind him, MacMartree heard the racking sobs begin in Cole. He did not recognize them as sobs, but he sensed their meaning, and knew, of course, what caused them. He also heard Phillips scramble to his feet, his wind sucking in and out of his throat in short, gasping shudders. He waited for Phillips to break and run into the darkness, fleeing in blind panic for the distant sanctuary of the ship on the plain below. But the darkness that surrounded them stared Phillips down, sent him grovelling back to the earth, a whipped and whimpering cur. And then, MacMartree was alone. He had never felt so lonely in his life before. The three younger men were there, of course, but they, too, were lost in voids of aloneness. He envied the unconscious Abner, until he felt Abner stir slightly on the ground behind him, and then go tense with waking. So they were all to meet it, and be aware when it came. But, such _loneliness_! Such a need he felt, for something to hold to, to reach for, to depend on. Another of their weapons? He knew better. There had to be something, there had to be. But what? Beaten, vanquished, he covered his face with his hands, and waited.