Dusty grinned. "You don't think a gang this advanced would be so dumb as to leave a couple of their kind marooned on a place like Mercury, do you? Well, I'll tell you how I've got it figured, Barb. Exactly eight seconds after Scyth does not land as per schedule, Chat and Bren will be calling for help on these phanoband things. That'll take care of them. But as for this guy, let's cheer up. We've got a sort of hostage. Scyth will be most happy to make a spacecraft for us as soon as he gets back on his feet. Chat and Bren will, of course, be taken care of some thousand years before we--" Scyth groaned loudly. "Huh?" demanded Dusty. "S'no-so. Bren an' Chat--alone. No--no--famban--phan'ban'--phanoban' on Mer'cry. Die--" Barbara started to say, "But your company--" but Dusty turned quickly and slapped a broad hand over her mouth. "Shut up," he whispered in her ear swiftly. "He's got to think there is no help. He's forgotten that someone knows they're here. Play it by ear and follow my lead." "What can you hope to do?" "I don't know," said Dusty. "But I'm hoping that I find out." Loud enough for Scyth to hear, Dusty asked, helplessly, "But what can we do?" "Car--ou'side. Spacer. Pocket--map." * * * * * Dusty made a dive for Scyth's jacket and found a folded road map in one of the pockets. Like any stranger in a strange land, Scyth had outlined the route in a heavy blue pencil. His travel was detailed, it took Dusty no more than a glance to place the location of Scyth's big spacecraft. Scyth rested a moment and then went on: "Hurt--can be doc'or on Maran'is. Hurry--" Dusty grunted. "And who's going to run this spacecraft of yours?" "You--easy--" Barbara looked at Dusty cynically. "It's your show, Spaceman Officer." She laughed hysterically again. "Dusty Britton Rides Again!" Dusty slapped her across the face to shock her out of it. Then he bent down to look at Scyth. The compress was soaked with red blood, but it was not overflowing. Dusty touched it gently and looked up at Scyth's face. "Hurt?" he asked. "Can' tell. Hur' all over." "Gonna hurt more, Scyth. C'mon, make a break." Dusty put his arm under the Marandanian's shoulder and slowly lifted him to a sitting position. The man groaned and the compress broke out in a new flood that ran wet for a moment and then subsided in the stickiness of clot. Dusty lifted Scyth as gently as he could, and with Barbara opening doors, he carried Scyth to his big car. "Why not take his?" she asked. "Like mine better," he said with a shake of his head at the rental-agency model Scyth had come in. Barbara found blankets from the trunk and made a soft cushion for Scyth. "You take care of him and I'll drive," said Dusty. Barbara shook her head. "I--you take care of him and I'll drive." "But I know the route." "I can read a map as well as you can."