He was right. All the nurses, and even Dr. Arnold, were evasive, but he kept asking them why he couldn't see Lorelei, and finally he wormed it out of them. It had been nine and a half months, not three, and he'd been in a coma all that time. Lorelei, it seemed, had recovered much sooner. "She was only suffering from ordinary shock," Arnold explained. "Seeing that assistant of hers--it was enough to knock anybody out, especially a woman. But you stood actual mental contact with _them_ for approximately five minutes. Yes, we know--you talked a lot. It's a miracle you're alive, and rational." "But where is she?" Peter complained. "You still haven't explained why I haven't been able to see her." Arnold frowned. "All right," he said. "I guess you're strong enough to take it. She's underground, with the rest of the women and children, and a good two-thirds of the male population. That's where you'll go, as soon as you're well enough to be moved. We started digging in six months ago." "But why?" Peter whispered. Arnold's strong jaw knotted. "We're hiding," he said. "Everything else has failed." Peter couldn't think of anything to say. Dr. Arnold's voice went on after a moment, musingly. "We're burrowing into the earth, like worms. It didn't take us long to find out we couldn't kill them. They didn't even take any notice of our attempts to do so, except once. That was when a squadron of the Police caught about fifty of them together at one time, and attacked with flame guns and a new secret weapon. It didn't hurt them, but it annoyed them. It was the first time they'd been annoyed, I think. They blew up half a state, and it's still smoldering." "And since then?" Peter asked huskily. "Since then, we've been burrowing. All the big cities.... It would be an impossible task if we tried to include all the thinly-populated areas, of course, but it doesn't matter. By the time we excavate enough to take care of a quarter of the earth's population, the other three-quarters will be dead, or worse." "I wonder," Peter said shakily, "if I am strong enough to take it." Arnold laughed harshly. "You are. You've got to be. You're part of our last hope, you see." "Our last hope?" "Yes. You're a scientist." "I see," said Peter. And for the first time, he thought of the _Citadel_. No plan leaped full-born into his mind, but, _maybe_, he thought, _there's a chance_.... * * * * * It wasn't very big, the thing that had been his shining dream. It lay there in its rough cradle, a globe of raw dura-steel not more than five hundred meters in diameter, where the _Citadel_ was to have been a thousand. It wouldn't house a hundred scientists, eagerly delving into the hinterland of research. The huge compartments weren't filled with the latest equipment for chemical and physical experiment; instead, there was compressed oxygen there, and concentrated food, enough to last a lifetime.