Wales spoke, deftly forestalling any comment from the City-Stater. "You've been Carey's friend for many years, haven't you?" "We robbed tombs together in the old days." "'Archeological research' is a nicer term, I should think." "My very ancient and perfectly honorable guild never used it. But I'm an honest trader now, and Carey doesn't come here." He might have added a qualifying "often," but he did not. The City-Stater said derisively, "He has or will come here now." "Why?" asked Derech. "He needs help. Where else could he go for it?" "Anywhere. He has many friends. And he knows Mars better than most Martians, probably a damn sight better than you do." "But," said Wales quietly, "outside of the City-States all Earthmen are being hunted down like rabbits, if they're foolish enough to stay. For Carey's sake, if you know where he is, tell us. Otherwise he is almost certain to die." "He's a grown man," Derech said. "He must carry his own load." * * * * * "He's carrying too much ..." Wales said, and then broke off. There was a sudden gabble of talk, both in the room and outside. Everybody moved toward the door, out of Carey's vision, except Derech who moved into it, relaxed and languid and infuriatingly self-assured. Carey could not hear the sound that had drawn the others but he judged that another flier was landing. In a few minutes Wales and the others came back, and now there were some new people with them. Carey squirmed and craned, getting closer to the crack, and he saw Alan Woodthorpe, his superior, Administrator of the Rehabilitation Project for Mars, and probably the most influential man on the planet. Carey knew that he must have rushed across a thousand miles of desert from his headquarters at Kahora, just to be here at this moment. Carey was flattered and deeply moved. Woodthorpe introduced himself to Derech. He was disarmingly simple and friendly in his approach, a man driven and wearied by many vital matters but never forgetting to be warm, gracious, and human. And the devil of it was that he was exactly what he appeared to be. That was what made dealing with him so impossibly difficult. Derech said, smiling a little, "Don't stray away from your guards." "Why is it?" Woodthorpe asked. "Why this hostility? If only your people would understand that we're trying to help them." "They understand that perfectly," Derech said. "What they can't understand is why, when they have thanked you politely and explained that they neither need nor want your help, you still refuse to leave them alone." "Because we know what we can do for them! They're destitute now. We can make them rich, in water, in arable land, in power--we can change their whole way of life. Primitive people are notoriously resistant to change, but in time they'll realize...." "Primitive?" said Derech.