"Yet you _did_ live," Pat pointed out. "And he was right about their being able to detect life. We sent out sterile neoprene balloons loaded with live rabbits, and others with dead rabbits. Every balloon with the live rabbits was blasted--and none with the dead animals. We could use the same test to find out whether any one of those things worked--or any combination of them." "We'll have to," he decided. "And then it may have been the closet instead of the shield--or an accident to their detector that saved me. Pat, have they got some kind of library here?" It was already quitting time, but she went with him while he persuaded the library attendant to let him in, before the next shift came on. Mummy cloth, it seemed, might become infused with a number of aromatic preservatives, products from the mummy, and such. It was ridiculous--but hardly more ridiculous than using the byproducts of mold to cure disease must have seemed. Anything dealing with life was slightly implausible. And when he phoned in the order for the materials to Miles, there were no questions. "Thanks, Pat," he told her after she'd shown him where his sleeping quarters were located. She shrugged. "Why? If we _don't_ find the answer, I'll be as dead as you in a few weeks." He shuddered, and then put it out of his mind. Worrying about death wasn't decent, somehow. He found his bunk, stretched out with his hands behind his neck, and tried to review the serious events of the day, without the problem of hatred, over-efficiency, or Pat and her father. He saved those to worry about in his mind after he rolled over on his side, and gave up all ideas of sleeping. Then abruptly there was a yell from down the hall, and lights snapped on. Norden sprang out with the others, to see the outer lock click shut. In the glare of the overhead lights, he could see a figure running desperately for the edge of a further Quonset--running in the airlessness of the exposed surface without a spacesuit! More lights snapped on, and a guard in a suit came around the corner, throwing up a rifle. There was a tiny spurt of flame from the weapon, and the running man pitched forward. The guard started toward him just as a few men began to dart out of the huts in hastily-donned spacesuits. A greenish-yellow effulgence bloomed shockingly where the runner had fallen, and the floor shook under Norden. The guard was thrown backwards, and the others stumbled. When the explosion was over there was no sign of the man who had run. "Alien!" somebody muttered. "A damned Alien! They always blow up like that before you can get near them! I've seen it out in space!" And Norden remembered the bomb that had wrecked the dome on the asteroid--a bomb that had flared up with the same greenish-yellow color.