Birrel suddenly looked up. Something had happened to the light, the single bulb that illuminated his cell. A greenish tinge had come into the light. It deepened, and there was a buzzing in his ears, and-- Birrel pitched to the floor, unconscious. He came out of blackness, later, with a vague consciousness of someone touching him and the sound of a voice in his ears. It was a woman's voice, low and hurried and husky with strain. He didn't know what it was saying, the words didn't make sense-- Of a sudden, Birrel's heart pounded. Some of those words, those strange-sounding syllables, _did_ make sense. They were words he had learned in the weeks of preparation--words that Grossman, the philologist, had beaten into him by endless repetitions. _The words--the language--of the secret ones from Someplace-else._ He wrenched his eyes open. He looked into the dark, handsome face of a young woman. Her eyes were brilliant with excitement, and her hands were shaking Birrel by the shoulders. She spoke swiftly to him again, and now his clearing mind could translate the words. "Rett, there's little time! Please!" "Rett?" That was a word he didn't know. But of course--that would be his name. Or, rather, the name of the man he impersonated. Rett-- Birrel was too foggy yet to try to answer, in that alien language. He was dazed, off balance, and dared not make a slip. She helped him to his feet. His legs were like strings. He felt as though a pile-driver had hit him. What had happened? Hanging to the edge of the bunk for support, Birrel stared groggily. He saw now that the girl wore an ordinary tan suit, with no covering on her shoulder-length black hair. Beyond her, the steel door now gaped wide open. How had it been opened? And what had struck him senseless? There had been a sudden greenishness in the light-- The light was _still_ green, a baleful emerald tinge. He didn't understand. He looked down at himself, and found that around his neck now hung a chain from which depended an egg of silvery metal. The egg hummed. Birrel reached numb fingers toward the thing, but the girl caught away his hand. Again in that alien tongue, she said quickly, "No, Rett--don't touch your shield! We have to get out fast--Holmer can't blank this building forever. Please try to walk!" His shield? Shield against what? He saw now that she too wore a humming metal egg around her neck. Birrel's brain was beginning to clear. But he purposely kept his bewildered expression. Acting dazed would give him a little more time. "Holmer?" he said. "He's outside," the girl said. "Holding the"--(and here she used a word Birrel did not know at all)--"on the whole building. But we must hurry!"