code. He used Terran, not basic, and he shaped the words
slowly.

"Warlock calling--trouble--sickness here--com officer dead."

He was interrupted by another burst of code. The claws of his guard
twisted into the naked flesh of his shoulders in vicious warning.

"Warlock calling--" he repeated. "Need help----"

"Who are you?"

The demand came in basic. On board the transport they would have a list
of every member of the Survey team.

"Lantee." Shann drew a deep breath. He was so conscious of those claws
on his shoulders, of what would follow.

"This is Mayday!" he said distinctly, hoping desperately that someone in
the control cabin of the ship now in orbit would catch the true meaning
of that ancient call of complete disaster. "Mayday--beetles--over and
out!"

18. STORM'S ENDING

Shann had no answer from the transport, only the continuing hum of a
contact still open between the dome and the control cabin miles above
Warlock. The Terran breathed slowly, deeply, felt the claws of the Throg
bite his flesh as his chest expanded. Then, as if a knife slashed, the
hum of that contact was gone. He had time to know a small flash of
triumph. He had done it; he had aroused suspicion in the transport.

When the Throg officer clicked to the alien manning the landing beam,
Shann's exultation grew. The beetle-head must have accepted that cut in
communication as normal; he was still expecting the Terran ship to drop
neatly into his claws.

But Shann's respite was to be very short, only timed by a few breaths.
The Throg at the riding beam was watching the indicators. Now he
reported to his superior, who swung back to face the prisoner. Although
Shann could read no expression on the beetle's face, he did not need any
clue to the other's probable emotions. Knowing that his captive had
somehow tricked him, the alien would now proceed relentlessly to put
into effect the measures he had threatened.

How long before the patrol cruiser would planet? That crew was used to
alarms, and their speed was three or four times greater than that of the
bulkier transports. If the Throgs didn't scatter now, before they could
be caught in one attack....

The wire rope which held Shann clamped to the chair was loosened, and he
set his teeth against the pain of restored circulation, This was nothing
compared to what he faced; he knew that. They jerked him to his feet,
faced him toward the outer door, and propelled him through it with