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Updated: June 22, 2025
Nuwell stole a sidelong glance at her, his breath catching slightly at the curve of the petite, perfectly feminine form beneath the loose Martian tunic and baggy trousers. He reached over and patted her hand. But Maya was offended. She kept her black head turned away from him, looking out of the groundcar dome across the desert.
He was in the copter, and there was Maya, struggling and writhing, as Nuwell Eli, in a furious concentration of savage energy, bound her into one of its seats with a length of rope. Dark touched her mind, and her mind grasped his, desperately. Dark, he followed us up here, and hid until you left. He crept up behind me and seized me. Hurry, Dark, he's taking me away! Hurry?
"Well, as for that, it might not be so hard to arrange," suggested Placer quietly. Nuwell stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You're not familiar with the details of our work here, are you, Nuwell?" "I thought I was, pretty well. But what you just said doesn't strike a chord."
The entire body of the copter crumpled in on itself, and it came to rest, a collapsed wreck, with the two of them sitting in its midst, miraculously uninjured. There was no question of trying to start the engines or fly the machine. It was a total wreck. Nuwell tried the radio without success. "What in space went wrong with the thing?" he demanded angrily. "I know it wasn't short of fuel.
"It's merely a routine inspection," murmured Nuwell. Goat indicated one of his charts, showing a diagram of genes and chromosomes in different colors. "This is my original chart," he said. "I copied it from one belonging to the Martians many years ago, and my genetic alteration of Brute and Adam were based on it.
After all, she had known Nuwell Eli only during the few months she had been on Mars. She had fallen in love with him for his charm, his intelligence, his good-humored gentleness, but she did not like this display of temper. It was not a controlled anger, but had something of the irrational in it. "Childress was captured," she reminded him. "Childress! A figurehead!
But I must have miscopied it, or else the Martians didn't have the objective I thought they did in it, because I could find no alteration of genes affecting lung capacity or oxygen utilization. My own subsequent charts, on which later experiments were based, are alterations of this." "But just what is your objective, and how well have you succeeded?" persisted Nuwell.
Her shoulders drooped wearily. She stared across the room. It was as bare as a prison cell, which intrinsically it was. There was a glass on the washbasin. It was made of heavy metal, with no sharp edges. Did Nuwell think she would commit suicide? Not as long as she knew Dark was alive! Her mind touched the glass. It quivered. It tilted and fell to the floor with a clang.
"Yes, a prisoner who wasn't sent down to the vats, but is kept on the upper floor. This prisoner is a black-haired, black-eyed woman." "Maya!" "Yes, I think the visitor is Nuwell Eli and the prisoner is your friend, Maya." Nuwell Eli sat with Placer Viceroy, director of the Canfell Hydroponic Farm, in its large underground dining room, eating lunch.
Get the police to take him in custody and hold him for me." "Darling, there aren't any police at Solis Lacus," Maya reminded him. "This is a private resort area. The nearest police are at Ophir." There was a silence while Nuwell digested this. "You say he's staying overnight?" Nuwell said then. "I can be there before midnight with some men to take him in custody."
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