"Sir," said Jorik respectfully, "some sections are colored very oddly--even in red. Yet no such colors were found anywhere on the planet by our telescopes, were they? And none of these large blue areas shows population centers. Tabu areas, obviously--not to be inhabited." Gwann shivered. "The longer I stay here, the less I like it. Come on. Each of you take one of these maps. Drog, you assign us to a specific sector by these maps, rather than by ours. We'll meet back here at the ship in five days." One by one, the Venusians got aboard their skimmers, making sure the protective barriers were working, and then glided off to investigate the ghost planet. * * * * * Drog, sliding in his trim craft over the North American continent, stopped many times, at each large city he discovered, but the story was the same as in New York. Empty buildings, no particular damages except what could be accounted for by decay and long disuse. Every so often--more often than he enjoyed--a flock of the huge carnivores soared above his skimmer, their long, dark shadows slithering over the cockpit in the dancing yellow sunlight. Once, one of them broke away from the group and spiraled down to investigate his craft. Drog jabbed the button of the nose-gun hastily, and a lance of metal sped with a flicker of light into the thick hide of the oncoming monster. A thick spray of blood gushed from the wound, as the great beast writhed in torment before sliding down through the atmosphere toward the distant ground. Its blood hung in a grisly trail over it as it plunged, marking its passage, then began to fall slowly after the beast. Drog was by now almost a mile beyond the point where he had fired at the carnivore, but he wasn't too far away to see its hungry companions swoop down after it and begin rending it even before it reached the ground. He shuddered and looked away. As he soared onward, he determined to keep the barrier on all night long, while he slept. If he _could_ sleep.... North America taken care of, as well as possible in his limited time, Drog headed northward for the continent of Arctica. Nothing but bare land and ocean bottom met his eye. Feeling increasingly queasy, he nosed the skimmer around and set it swishing back toward New York. * * * * * Jorik watched the shadow of his skimmer pacing his own motion over the tops of the tangled jungle trees below. He inclined the nose of the craft downward, and began a shallow glide toward a clearing in the midst of the dense undergrowth. Braking the skimmer gently, he let it settle slowly into the resilient grip of the tall yellow-brown grass in the clearing. Making sure his gun was loaded and the safety catch off, he slid open the cockpit and eased himself out.