She began to sob, then; a soft yet somehow desperate sobbing. Bleakly, I stared down at the hands I couldn't see for the blackness of this dungeon ... the self-same dungeon in which I'd lain alone such a short time earlier, except that in the interim our captors had stripped it bare of sacks and thrill-mills. It wasn't the kind of ending I'd planned. Not here; not locked away, waiting out the hours till the Kel should strike, and win, and end the game. And me not even on the field. I cursed under my breath; hammered one clenched fist into the other palm. "Mark--" It was Celeste again. "Mark, give up. Don't fight it so." "I won't give up! I can't!" Choking on my own words, I lurched up and stumbled blindly along our prison's walls. "If I knew anything--even where we were--" "I don't know myself, Mark. These weeks, I've been a prisoner here--a prisoner talking on a voco. They've never let me come or go." On once more. On about the walls, and on, turn after turn. On, while mankind's life-span ticked away. The door came under my groping fingers. I clutched the knob; shook it. It didn't give. Something snapped inside me. Wildly, I flung myself at the heavy portal--kicking it, clawing it, beating on it with my fists. No answer. I yelled--a fierce, shrill cry to wake the dead. Again, again, again ... hammering and screaming, screaming and hammering. Celeste: "Mark, stop it, stop it! stop it! They won't come. You'll only hurt yourself!" Panting, I drew back, crouched, and then lunged for the slab that blocked our way, hurling myself against it with all my weight and strength. "Mark, Mark--!" Again I lunged. Again--again--again.... My shoulders were bruised now, my whole body aching. It was all I could do to stumble back for still another try. Only then, suddenly, light spilled in upon us as the door swung open. Unbelieving, I rocked back. Celeste Stelpa gave a choked, incoherent cry. Wider the door swung, and still wider. I held my breath and tensed my belly, waiting to see what form our foe would take. Nothing happened. I looked round at Celeste, and she at me. Still nothing. For an instant I stood rigid. Then, tight-lipped, I took a quick, cat-footed step in the direction of the open door. * * * * * In one lithe motion, Celeste was beside me. She caught my hand; clung to my arm. "No, Mark, no! Don't try it! It's a trick, a trick--" Wordless, not shifting my eyes from the entry, I twisted free of her grasp ... advanced another step. I could see out now, in both directions. No one was there ... only the black, echoing emptiness of an unused warehouse. I said, "Stay here, Celeste. I'm going to look around." Instead of answering, she darted past me, out through the doorway into the open area beyond. "Celeste--!" She turned swiftly, well beyond my reach. "I'm not going back in there, Mark. Not if you're coming out." "But--"