From the collapsing roof tons of debris poured into the underground
gardens and spread over the floor like advancing mountains. Dust
choked, Torry staggered blindly before it in panic to avoid being
caught and buried. It was like a swift, deadly race with an engulfing
landslide.
Free of the confusion and deafening tumult, he turned to look about
for Sen Bas and the girl. In the dust cloud it was impossible to see
anything. Masses of masonry and fused glass from the collapsing cavern
roof continued to detach themselves and crash down in random uproar.
Cautiously, Torry picked his way over the mounds of rubble, searching.
A feeble cry led him to Sen Bas. The aged Martian looked like a
tattered bundle of red rags. Half buried under a hillock of shattered
stone and twisted steel, the old man showed little sign of life, save
for still-glittering eyes and husks of sound emerging from bloodless
lips. Spreading stains of red seeped from beneath the prisoning blocks.
"If I can lift the stones, can you drag yourself out?" asked Torry.
"Don't--think--so!" gasped Sen Bas.
"Where can I find help?"
"Don't try. Go--quickly. Save yourself. The alarms--police--maybe union
killers. Go--"
"Not yet," snapped Torry. "We'll worry about the rest after I get you
out."
The old man protested. "I'm--old. Does not matter. Get to--transmitter.
My people must have--"
Ignoring him, Torry worked. Feverishly he searched for and found a
length of reinforcing steel. With it, he dug into debris of glass and
stone and tortured steel. Mass by mass, he levered it up and rolled it
aside. Fingers raw, steel bending in his hands, he strained to uncover
the writhing, bleeding form of Sen Bas. At last he wedged up the
last mass and reached under to drag out the ancient Martian. Sen Bas
screamed as he came free, but the agony left his face.
"You're hurting him," raged Tharol Sen. She stumbled toward them, her
face a mask of hate.
"No!" cried Sen Bas. Gathering breath, he whispered, "He saved me."
Then pallor flooded his pinched features.
Torry knelt beside him, not even looking at the girl. "Shut up!" he
ordered. "Get bandages--painkilling drugs. He's badly crushed, bleeding
to death. Don't argue. Hurry!"
Sen Bas blinked. "Do as he says...." Tharol Sen disappeared.
Alone, Sen Bas stared curiously at his rescuer. "I should have ordered
you both to the transmitter. My men could care for me ... if it
matters."
"Not soon enough. Roper can wait."
Sen Bas shook his head. "Roper might. My people cannot. We need heavier
metals to power our underground cities. We are a dying race."
"You're a dying man. Don't talk."
The old Martian composed his features with great dignity. "What better
time? Our need is desperate. We must claim the transuranics on Triton.
Even though they must be freighted here, since they cannot be brought
through the transmitter. We tried it, and failed. You know Roper. Will
he deal fairly with us?"