"Suit yourself." Satisfied with the instrument search, the driver kicked the car to life again and churned on across the desert. "But we're a volunteer army and we have no secrets from each other. Just from the fools at home who are going to kill this world." There was a bitterness in his words that he made no attempt to conceal. "They fought among themselves and put off a firm decision so long that now they are forced to commit murder." "From what I had heard, I thought that it was the other way around. They call your Nyjord army terrorists." "We are. Because we are an army and we're at war. The idealists at home only understood that when it was too late. If they had backed us in the beginning we would have blown open every black castle on Dis, searched until we found those bombs. But that would have meant wanton destruction and death. They wouldn't consider that. Now they are going to kill everyone, destroy everything." He flicked on the panel lights just long enough to take a compass bearing, and Brion saw the tortured unhappiness in his twisted body. "It's not over yet," Brion said. "There is more than a day left, and I think I'm onto something that might stop the war--without any bombs being dropped." "You're in charge of the Cultural Relationships Free Bread and Blankets Foundation, aren't you? What good can your bunch do when the shooting starts?" "None. But maybe we can put off the shooting. If you are trying to insult me--don't bother. My irritation quotient is very high." The driver merely grunted at this, slowing down as they ran through a field of broken rock. "What is it you want?" he asked. "We want to make a detailed examination of one of the magter. Alive or dead, it doesn't make any difference. You wouldn't happen to have one around?" "No. We've fought with them often enough, but always on their home grounds. They keep all their casualties, and a good number of ours. What good will it do you anyway? A dead one won't tell you where the bombs or the jump-space projector is." "I don't see why I should explain that to you--unless you are in charge. You are Hys, aren't you?" The driver gave an angry sound, and then was silent while he drove. Finally he asked, "What makes you think that?" "Call it a hunch. You don't act very much like a sand-car driver, for one thing. Of course your army may be all generals and no privates--but I doubt it. I also know that time has almost run out for all of us. This is a long ride and it would be a complete waste of time if you just sat out in the desert and waited for me. By driving me yourself you could make your mind up before we arrived. Could have a decision ready as to whether you are going to help me or not. Are you?" "Yes--I'm Hys. But you still haven't answered my question. What do you want the body for?" "We're going to cut it open and take a good long look. I don't think the magter are human. They are something living among men and disguised as men--but still not human."