“I’d like to know a bit more about it before I suggest anything,” said Lynne quietly. Joanna said: “I thought that big fellow spooked _ferkab_ easily when I cracked the whip at him. Lynne, why didn’t you _tell_ me you were using TP on him?” “I didn’t want to bore you with long explanations just then,” said Lynne, her eyes bright with amusement. Then, becoming serious once more, she asked, “Any results on the anion-gun tests?” Juarez, who had been busying himself with a vidar screen in a corner of his office turned and replied, “The report just came in. The results, I’m sorry to say, are negative. The zombie steer used for the testing is dead.” “I was afraid of that,” said Radchev, running thick, muscular fingers through his shock of white hair. “The poor beast was well electrocuted. They’re a lot more sensitive than sheep in some ways. They have more delicate nervous systems.” “What about the zombie?” Lynne asked. “Burned out, too,” said Juarez. “The _marlet_ couldn’t shake itself out in time and took a full negative charge.” There was a moment of silence. Lynne didn’t have to probe the other minds in the room to know what they were thinking. Her own mind was following the same channel. If mechanical means--via the anion-guns which had routed the disembodied zombies--failed conspicuously now, the problem remained grave. For uninhibited possession would destroy the all-important Patagonia Station development and, with it, all hope of future beef for Mars. Left in possession the aborigines would run the cattle ragged, foul up the breeding lines, and destroy one another in spurts of sheer malice. Furthermore, it was conceivable that they might batten on their bovine hosts until they grew sufficiently strong to leave them and assume some form still more dangerous to humanity on Mars. Director Radchev spoke in his deep rumble of a voice. “You say, Lynne, it’s positive emanations from the E-for-Entity that has made them strong enough to take over the beeves?” “I’m sure of it,” Lynne told him. “Whenever we irritate E to create a storm, he releases plenty of positive electricity over the entire area--and that’s what the zombies feed on.” “How long can Woomera and Patagonia endure without rain or snow?” Radchev asked Martin Juarez. “Not long enough,” said the station boss quickly. “One Marsweek without moisture would dry us up. Two would cripple us.” The director nodded, his full lips tightly compressed. Then he turned deliberately to Lynne and said, “Any suggestions?” She returned his level stare while she turned over in her mind the idea that had been burgeoning there. “Just one,” she said. “While I was probing the leader out there I received a number of definite impressions. Most of them were straight zombie--the usual ghastly _swackish_ stuff.”