Now, as he tapped the filter, light flashed from his wrist. Stopping short, he fumbled off a standard doloid identification bracelet. But though the picture was his, the name engraved beneath it was _Stewart Ross_, not Thigpen. For the fraction of a second, the man hesitated, then dropped the bracelet into the sand and scraped it under with his foot. * * * * * Next, pivoting, he struck out in the same general direction his pursuers had taken, but at such an angle as would let the pillar screen him from the cruiser. A dozen yards farther on, a low, crumbling ledge crossed his path slaunchwise. Dropping down into its shelter, the man wormed swiftly along it till it played out in a wind-furrowed, trough-like hollow. The hollow gave him cover to a dune, and the dune hid him till he reached the first spur of the strata that formed the outcrop his pursuers now were searching. Staying low, out of view, Ross followed the spur till he reached the upthrust columns and ledges themselves. Then, a fist-sized rock in each hand, he rose and moved cautiously on into the maze. Ahead, scar-faced Cheng came into view around a towering escarpment. Instantly, Ross drew back. Tight-lipped, cold-eyed, he hefted the two rocks. Scowling under black, bushy brows as he peered this way and that, blaster at the ready, Cheng shuffled closer ... closer.... Ross drew back a step. Then, through a slot between two great stone slabs, he lobbed one of his rocks high into the air above Cheng's head. Sailing in a swift arc, it struck the face of the escarpment and rattled noisily down the steep slope behind the slaver. Like lightning, Cheng whirled, finger already rigid on his weapon's trigger. It put his back to his stalker. Stepping clear of his sheltering slab, Ross hurled the second rock. It struck the base of Cheng's skull with a meaty _thunk_. The slaver spilled forward. Ross came in with a rush. Snatching up his downed foe's fallen blaster, he whipped it round just in time to cover the other two members of the landing party as they waded into view through the thick-drifted sand at the cliff's base. The pair stopped in their tracks, jaws dropping. Ross' lips peeled back in the caricature of a grin. He didn't speak. The two men from the cruiser hesitated, then exchanged quick, raw-nerved glances. Still not speaking, Ross flicked his blaster's muzzle ever so slightly; triggered a bolt. Sand spewed in a geyser bare inches from the feet of the man at the left. Like magic, the pair dropped their weapons. Ross stripped off his torn, chrysolite-green tunic and tossed it down beside black-browed, scar-faced Cheng, still lying limp and unconscious in the sand. "Put this on him. And give me his outfit." The slaver's two aides didn't even argue about it. The switch finished and a cap donned to hide his gashed scalp, Ross eyed his captives coldly. "How many aboard the cruiser?"