Part 1 (2/2)

With quick precision they levelled the mound and found Johnny Love. They took him into their vehicle, and deftly matched and replenished the waning gas mixture in the cylindrical tanks on his back.

Then they drove away with him.

”Ferris?”

”Ferris was your astrogeologer-navigator. He died when you crashed.”

”Harrison ... _Janes_?”

”Harrison and Janes are not due for nine more days. But you are in no danger.”

There was darkness and warmth; his throat was dry and it burned. It was hard to talk, and Ferris was dead. Harrison and Janes were not due for nine more days. Somebody said so. Nine more days and then everything would be--

Panic shook him, sent blood throbbing to his head and brought consciousness back hard. His eyes opened and he was suddenly sitting bolt upright.

”But Lamson, you were twenty days behind--” And the racing thought froze solid in his fumbling brain. Then there was a torrent of thoughts and memory overran them, buried them, and red desert was rus.h.i.+ng up to engulf him. He screamed and fell back with his hands clawing at his eyes.

”You are in no danger. You had thought our planet lifeless; it was an error. We live underground, John Love. That is why you did not see us, or surface indications of our existence. A group of us speak your language, because for eleven days we have been studying your brain and a.n.a.lyzing your thought-patterns.”

Johnny was bolt upright again, and now his eyes were wide and his hands were knotted, and where there had been only light and shadow before there was full sight now. Swiftly he was off the low cot and on his feet looking for the speaker, arms ready to lash out and hit.

But he was alone in the small, sterile-looking chamber, and his muscles were so much excess baggage. He tried to recover his balance: he had forgotten about the slight gravity. He tried too hard, and his body crashed, confused, into a wall. A--d.a.m.n them, a _padded_ wall!

He regained his feet. Stood still, and raced his eyes about him. There it was--above the cot. A small round, shuttered opening--some sort of two-way communication system. He wondered if they could see him, too. If they could, that part of it worked only one way.

”All right, whoever you are, so you've a.n.a.lyzed me!” He had to direct his sudden anger at something, so he shouted at the shuttered aperture.

”Now what....”

There was silence for a tiny eternity, and he could feel them probing, evaluating him, as a human scientist would study a rare species in a cage. The feeling ignited a new anger in him, and made him want to curse the teachings that had conditioned his lifetime of thinking to the belief that Man _was_ more than an animal.

He'd been sold short....

”d.a.m.n you! G.o.d d.a.m.n you, what are you going to do to me?”

In a corner of his mind he was aware of a gentle hissing sound, but he did not listen. The fear and terror had to be broken. Make them tell, _make_ them tell....

His muscles grew heavy and his face was feverish with his effort, and his eyes stung. Something ... like roses. But there were no roses on dead planets--

”Earthman, can you still hear?”

”I can hear,” Johnny said. It was suddenly easier to talk. Even easier to understand. They had done something....

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