After some careful experiments, the Triomed rose. If there was a proper method of egress from the cubicle in which he found himself, it was not imprinted on the biped's brain. For a moment this gave the alien pause. He could, of course, determine the proper method by a tedious process of trial and error, but that would take time and he had no desire to waste the hours of darkness. One wall, he noted, consisted of vertical risers fixed in the substance of the floor and ceiling. Beyond, he could see the darkling woods and the sky-glow of the city. The answer, then, was simple force. He did not doubt there was strength enough in the host's musculature to distort the risers. His assumption was quite correct. * * * * * Stepping through the bent risers, he picked his way along a narrow walkway lined with cubicles similar to the one he had left. Within them, dark shapes moved or lay sleeping. Some were alert, others were not. But none gave an alarm. The Triomed reached the end of the walk, scaled a fence easily and stood on a surface of wet grass that sloped away from the low dark building toward the woods. Behind him he heard a shout. A narrow beam of light pierced the night, swinging to and fro with a searching motion. He had a fleeting glimpse of a small biped running down the walk toward the cubicle he had deserted. The Triomed broke toward the wood with a long loping pace that covered the ground with unbelievable swiftness. The probing light did not find him. Once among the trees he paused and took his bearings. The woods were not thick. He could see the lights of the city through the foliage. They began at the very edge of the trees, where a wide open area could be discerned. Wheeled vehicles moved past with breathtaking speed. If there was pursuit, it was inefficient, for the Triomed moved through the woods undisturbed until he stood at the edge of the avenue, sheltered by the shadow of a large tree. Most of the traffic was vehicular, he noted. There were few pedestrians. From the noise and odor he classified the vehicles as being powered by internal combustion engines burning hydro-carbons. Primitive. That was good, he reflected. When the fleets of Triom descended on this planet, there would be no science worthy of the name to oppose them. He waited until there was an interval in the traffic, and then stepped out confidently, crossing the avenue. As he reached the opposite side he heard a screech of brakes and a garbled, choking sound. He did not turn to discover the source of the disturbance until he had reached the shelter of a building on the far side of the walk bordering the street. A vehicle had stopped at an oblique angle to the lane in which it was travelling, and its single occupant, a very pale-faced biped was goggling stupidly in the direction of the hidden Triomed.