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"That's exactly why you shouldn't try to handle such things alone," said Nuwell, apparently somewhat mollified.
"That settles that," said Nuwell, more philosophically then Maya would have expected. "Our only hope is to find a groundcar." That necessitated another search, but at last they found the motor pool. And there were three groundcars, all in various stages of breakdown or dismantlement. "It looks like we'll have to walk, Nuwell," said Maya. Nuwell shook his head.
"These men have told me how the rebel had turned the tables and gained the advantage of you before their arrival," said Nuwell. "They say that before he was killed, he confessed to them that he was Dark Kensington, one of the major rebel leaders who escaped from the Childress Barber College. I believe that coincides with your identification of him, doesn't it?"
He says he didn't know about the rebel activities going on in the college, and he's so stupid I may not be able to make a case against him." Maya recognized that this element, the success of his prosecution, was a very important factor to Nuwell. "Are the twelve I identified the only ones captured?" asked Maya. "Yes. Twelve captured, seven killed, and every one of them small fry.
"The initial surgery takes only about thirty minutes, and she'd do better to rest a night after that. It alone will remove a great deal of her volitional power. The entire series of operations will require about three days." "Tonight it is, then," said Nuwell, "if she doesn't break this afternoon." Maya sat in her locked room, her tunic and trousers covering the red welts on her back and legs.
We're afoot and in trouble. We're afoot, due southwest from your position. Help, please. Attention, groundcar!" There was no radio reply in the ensuing silence. But all at once it was as though a deep and alien voice spoke within the depths of Maya's mind: "We see you." Startled, she looked curiously at Nuwell. But he evidently had not had the same experience.
Miles away, Nuwell slowed the groundcar as it approached the lip of that precipitous slope bordering the short canal which connects Juventae Fons with the Arorae Sinus Lowland. He consulted a rough chart, and turned the groundcar southward. A drive of about a kilometer brought them to a wide descending ledge down which they were able to drive into the canal.
"Maya, I won't " he began. But at that moment, their guests began arriving. As the judge of Mars City's superior court and his wife entered the room, Nuwell cut himself off sharp and turned to greet them. His face cleared instantly, his lips curved into a delighted smile and he welcomed them with such natural, innocent charm that one would have thought he was incapable of frowning.
"They've picked up some men at the airlocks and others on the roads at several cities, and even Martian law won't permit you to uproot those people and send them to Mars City just on suspicion. They can't be sent here for me to identify: I'll have to go there." "We can work out some charges to get them extradited to Mars City," snapped Nuwell angrily. "I don't want you to go, Maya.
Nuwell announced their arrival over the groundcar radio and swung the groundcar up beside the building's main entrance. He sealed the groundcar's door to the building air-lock so they would not have to don marsuits. After a few moments, the airlock opened. They passed through it and were greeted by a skinny, shriveled little man with watery blue eyes and a goatee.
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