Cosmo closed his eyes, sighed faintly. "The mountains are impassable except by plane, and then its all blind flying. Rise to an altitude of four thousand meters. You'll clear any peaks that way. Starting at the Ormoo's nest, fly due North, Northwest for a distance of ninety-three kilometers." He paused. * * * * * Only the scrape of Bemmelman's pen could be heard as the planter wrote the directions on the bottom of the map. "Drop straight into the valley," Cosmo went on as the pen scratching ceased. "It's narrow, a canyon. The floor of the valley is at an altitude of one thousand, seven hundred meters, so you'll be in clouds all the time. It's tricky navigating." Bemmelman stopped writing, waved the paper dry. Then he folded it, put it away in the wall safe, behind the sliding panel. "This had better be right," he said ominously. Cosmo, opening his eyes, said: "It's right. I've been there a dozen times. The first time the bird carried me there accidentally before he was well trained." "Good." Bemmelman glanced at his watch. "Now Cosmo, we'll lay a trap for those men of yours. Yes sir. They should be along any minute. How many have you?" "Nine." Again Cosmo emitted a faint sigh. "What do you want me to do?" He realized that Mia and Llana both were staring at him with distaste. Only the Blue Venus seemed untouched. "You can't betray your men!" Mia burst out. Cosmo's face hardened. He said, "Can you suggest a better way?" "You're a sensible man, Cosmo, a sensible man." The planter rubbed his hands together triumphantly. He snapped on the intercommunicating telecast on the glassite desk, said into it: "Rabaul!" "Right," came the voice from the audio. "That was good work with the gas tubes, Rabaul." "You can thank Llana," came the voice of the overseer from the audio. Cosmo recognized the sibilant accent of a Martian. "She gave the alarm." Bemmelman grunted. "Take twenty Jovians," he said, "and a dozen serfs. Arm the serfs with Ray Rifles. Hide them about the roof. The Renegade's men will try to land shortly and I'd like to prepare a welcome for 'em." "Right," came Rabaul's voice. The planter switched off the telecast. He looked at Cosmo, smiled, said: "Whistle 'em down, Cosmo, that's all. My Jovians will take care of the rest." "It's daylight," said the Blue Venus with an air of childish surprise. She was looking out the windows. Cosmo was aware of the heat, all at once. It curled about him like a steaming towel. He looked at Mia. There were circles under her eyes. Her hair was tangled, her tunic in threads. "Poor kid," he said. Bemmelman glanced at his watch. "Your men should be up in the clouds now, waiting? Eh, Cosmo?" Cosmo said: "They'll be up there." "We'll give them another hour," said Bemmelman, "to be on the safe side." He rang for a servant, ordered breakfast served in the office.