Not answering, Ross sidestepped the friendly sniffing of a six-legged Martian bak and strode to a box that protruded from the warehouse wall, opened it, and flicked his flamer. Light flared, illumining a neat row of dials. "What--?" Veta began again. "Power drain," Ross explained succinctly. "If equipment's running in there, we'll see it on these meters." A pause, while he checked dial after dial. Then sudden excitement sprang into his voice: "I was right, see? Something's going!" Dubiously, Veta eyed the indicator. "Maybe it's an air-wash. Or a heater." "Those take more power. This is a light or two; a show-screen, maybe." Ross snapped shut the cover of the flamer. "No, Veta. Somebody's in there. So now we'll smoke 'em out!" Pivoting as he spoke, he stepped to the bak and picked it up, then paused briefly while he manipulated the ugly, six-legged creature's ventral plates. The bak gave a sigh of vast pleasure and settled deeper into the haven of Ross' arms. Veta stared. "Stewart Ross, have you lost your mind completely?" "Probably." Ross chuckled. "Hand me that rock, will you?" The girl's expression showed her reaction plainly. But, following Ross' gesture, she obeyed. "Thanks." Ross hefted the boulder thoughtfully. "For the rest of it, all you have to do is stay here." "Stay here--?" "Till I get back." Veta's head came up. Her lips firmed. "And why should I do that?" "Because I'm asking you to." Ross came closer; slipped his free arm about her waist. "If you want me to, I can even put logic behind it: even though you probably wonder why, I--well, I wouldn't say I hate you. I'd like you to live long enough to give me a chance to prove it. "On the other side of it, I'm not sure I can trust you. You held out on me about your brother, and his stealing the catalyst. Then, when I found his body, you hardly shed a tear. Maybe that was nervous exhaustion. Or relief that finally, for good, he was off starak. Or, maybe, you just hated me so much there wasn't any room left for tears. "Anyhow, regardless of the angle, I want you here, not with me." Veta's shoulders began to shake, harder and harder. Tears welled and overflowed her eyes; coursed down her face. She brought up a hand and bit at it, as if only thus she could hold back her fury! "Rack you, Stewart Ross!" she choked. "Rack you! Rack you for a chitza--" Again, the shaking. The bak under Ross' arm stuck out its thick, prickly tongue to catch the falling tears. Ross said, "Now you won't feel so bad if I don't come back. And just to make sure you stay here and obey orders--" He stepped back quickly. The hand that had been about Veta's waist knotted into a club-fist. For the second time in the brief hours that he'd known her, he brought up a short, hard blow that snapped the girl's head back. Then, catching her before she could fall, he brushed her lips gently with his own and laid her gently in the shadows along the base of the next building.