"Good," said Broward. "Neither will the Russians, unless they measure the closeness of the walls to the equipment. The explosive is spread out over the walls in a thin layer which is colored to match the original green. Also, thin strips of a chemical are glued to the walls. This chemical is temperature-sensitive. When the transmitters are operating and reach maximum radiation of heat, the strips melt. And the chemicals released interact with the explosive, detonate it." "Ingenious," said Scone somewhat sourly. "We don't ..." and he stopped. "Have such stuff? No wonder. As far as I know, the detonator and explosive were made here on the Moon. In our lab at Clavius." "If you could get into this room without being detected and could also smuggle all that stuff from Clavius, then the Russ can be beaten," said Scone. Now, Broward was surprised. "You doubted they could?" "Never. But all the odds were on their side. And you know what a conditioning they give us from the day we enter kindergarten." "Yes. The picture of the all-knowing, all-powerful Russian backed by the force of destiny itself, the inevitable rolling forward and unfolding of History as expounded by the great prophet, the only prophet, Marx. But it's not true. They're human." * * * * * They replaced the panels and the screwdriver and left the room. Just as they entered the hall, and the door swung shut behind them, they heard the thumps of boots and shouts. Scone had just straightened up from putting the key back into the dead officer's pocket when six Russians trotted around the corner. Their officer was carrying a burp gun, the others, automatic rifles. "Don't shoot!" yelled Scone in Russian. "Americans! USAF!" The captain, whom both Americans had seen several times before, lowered her burper. "It's fortunate that I recognized you," she said. "We just killed three Axes who were dressed in Russian uniforms. They shot four of my men before we cut them down. I wasn't about to take a chance you might not be in disguise, too." She gestured at the dead men. "The Axes got them, too?" "Yes," said Scone. "But I don't know if any Axes are in there." He pointed at the door to the control room. "If there were, we'd all be screaming with pain," said the captain. "Anyway, they would have had to take the key from the officer on guard." She looked suspiciously at the two, but Scone said, "You'll have to search him. I didn't touch him, of course." She dropped to one knee and unbuttoned the officer's inner coatpocket, which Scone had not neglected to rebutton after replacing the key. Rising with the key, she said, "I think you two must go back to the dome." Scone's face did not change expression at this evidence of distrust. Broward smiled slightly. "By the way," she said, "what are you doing here?"