Julian poured a withering barrage at the plastic staircase, and saw it disintegrate into golden, dancing motes that merged with the advancing curtain of fire. He could hear frantic commands shouted from above as power beams crossed and criss-crossed the lab. The raging maelstrom was unbearable now, and Julian retreated toward the tunnel. Almost at the doorway a ponderous section of plastic from the caving ceiling struck him on the left shoulder and fractured his collar bone. He held his left arm at the elbow to support the broken clavicle and sprinted down the tunnel to the corridor. Muffled explosions behind him fed the cataract of fire. He pushed shut the circular section of wall and followed as fast as he was able in the direction he had seen the Ganymedean disappear. The corridor seemed endless. Even his tremendous strength was taxed. Charred, the magnificent costume in tatters, his left side a gory welter of blood, he kept on doggedly, on and on, the unnerving fear in his heart--not for his life--but that he might not be able to transmit to the _Dekka_ the ghastly solution of their problem. He kept forcing his legs, and was amazed when a draft of pure, frigid air smote his feverish face. He found himself by the shores of Ganymede's one and only shallow sea. Above him the stars were like freshly washed diamonds; the icy harshness of the wind was like a tonic. He saw a tiny light describe a parabola overhead, and to his mind, inconsequentially came the lines from a famous poem: "_And an errant star falls rapt and free, In the blue cup of the sea...._" And then Julian realized it was no star. He followed with a vast unbelieving wonder, the tiny light winking on and off. _He knew that code!_ Beyond he saw the tremendous looming shadows he had thought to be clouds. For an instant, Time stood still. Julian reeled with a surging wave of relief that was like pain in its intensity. Frantically he worked the wrist transmitter on his useless left arm, while waves of nausea rolled over him, receded and rolled again. He would never know how long he stood there, sending that long-repeated, incoherent message, until his mind spinning down the labyrinth of unconsciousness brought peace.... * * * * * It was a universe later. The blessed peace of _Vanadol_ had vanished pain. Sulfalixir was cutting through the darkness in his brain like a bright sun. Julian opened his eyes and stared ... stared into a face that reminded him of tele-photos that preserved archaic illustrations of ancient Saints. It was hallowed in the bright patina of silver hair, but it was no Mutant, a virile aura of power shone in those intensely blue eyes.