"A conquest of the human race?" Taylor pondered. "Maybe. But it isn't likely. They can't gain much by conquering us. It wouldn't do man any good to stage a conquest of earthworms and swordfish, since neither could pay taxes. The spheres are as different from man as man from an angle-worm. Are we a menace to the spheres? Apparently the only time we really menace them is when we crawl into a hole like a rabbit--maybe there's something in that that will help us, but I don't think that's why they kill us. Are we a nuisance? If so, why? Are we a food? There is energy in sunlight and chemicals in the human body. A creature of energy would feed on something like sunlight, not chemicals. His menu would be electric wires, storage batteries--" "Great Scott, Captain!" Masters interrupted. "Let's get away from this car. There's a battery in it--food for the spheres!" Masters looked nervously up at the circling globes. Taylor, deep in thought, did not stir. Instead, he continued his speculation: "Maybe they kill us for sport." He was thinking of small boys torturing frogs; of Roman emperors at the circus; of sportsmen exterminating game; of the mob watching the guillotine on the streets of Paris. It was Zarathustra who said that when gazing at tragedies, bull fights and crucifixions, man has felt his happiest; and when man invented hell, he made hell his heaven on earth. Couldn't this be a characteristic of all life? Couldn't the spheres be cruel and ruthless, too? Man, the mighty hunter, had become the prey. A sphere detached itself from the group and circled toward the car. "I guess you're right, Masters," Taylor decided as he watched the spheres. "We'd better move." CHAPTER IV PREY Masters unlocked the handcuffs of the two men in the car. He disposed of his short-wave set in a ditch, for it, too, had batteries which might attract the spheres. "Get out of the car, Orkins," he ordered. "Watch him, Masters," Taylor warned. "If he starts yelling, choke him." "But not too hard," Masters added. "If we're going to be rabbits, human values will change. Men who run into holes will live to eat turnips, those who bare their teeth won't. Orkins might be the forefather of a new race--a helluva race. Come on, Orkins. Get out. Hurry up, Father Abraham, or I'll drag you out." Orkins, cringing, emerged. Taylor took charge of Norden, who followed Orkins out of the machine. "I hate your guts, Norden," he said. "You're a dirty, lousy rat and you ought to be shot. But after all, you're a man. You've courage and I admire it, as much as I hate the way you use it. Overseas there's a war between countries. Here there's another war between humanity and a species of alien monsters. Whether we like it or not, we're allies." Norden's undershot jaw moved in a grin. "I know about the spheres, Captain," Norden replied. "I overheard your remarks to Mr. Masters. I've listened to Orkins' babble." "Will you help us?" "I will bargain with you."