"I've never been...." she murmured, and then said decisively: "You belong up there. And higher. Griffin laughs at me, but he's a fool. Last night in chamber we got to talking about you, I don't know how, and he finally became quite angry and said he didn't want to hear another word." She smiled wickedly. "I was revenged, though." Blank-faced, he said: "You must be a good hand at revenge, Selene, and at stirring up the need for it." The slight hardening of her smile meant that he had scored and he hurried by with a rather formal salutation. Burn him for an Angelo, but she was easy enough to take! The contrast of the metallic garment with her soft, white skin was disturbing, and her long hair suggested things. It was hard to think of her as scheming something or other; scheming Selene was displaced in his mind by Selene in chamber. But what was she up to? Had she perhaps heard that he was to be elevated? Was Griffin going to be swooped on by the Maintainers? Was he to kill off Griffin so she could leech onto some rising third party? Was she perhaps merely giving her man a touch of the lash? He wished gloomily that the binoculars-problem and the Selene-problem had not come together. That trickster Almon had spoken of youth as though it were something for congratulation; he hated being young and stupid and unable to puzzle out the faulty binoculars and the warmth of Griffin's woman. * * * * * The attack alarm roared through the Spartan corridor. He ducked through the nearest door into a vacant bedroom and under the heavy steel table. Somebody else floundered under the table a moment later, and a third person tried to join them. The firstcomer roared: "Get out and find your own shelter! I don't propose to be crowded out by you or to crowd you out either and see your ugly blood and brains if there's a hit. Go, now!" "Forgive me, sir! At once, sir!" the latecomer wailed; and scrambled away as the alarm continued to roar. Reuben gasped at the "sirs" and looked at his neighbor. It was May! Trapped, no doubt, on an inspection tour of the level. "Sir," he said respectfully, "if you wish to be alone, I can find another room." "You may stay with me for company. Are you one of mine?" There was power in the general's voice and on his craggy face. "Yes, sir. May's man Reuben, of the eighty-third level, Atomist." May surveyed him, and Reuben noted that there were pouches of skin depending from cheekbones and the jaw line--dead-looking, coarse-pored skin. "You're a well-made boy, Reuben. Do you have women?" "Yes, sir," said Reuben hastily. "One after another--I _always_ have women. I'm making up at this time to a charming thing called Selene. Well-rounded, yet firm, soft but supple, with long red hair and long white legs--"