e edge of the roof
and looked out at the buildings he knew were occupied by the aliens,
was busy examining the scene as if he intended to crawl about on roof
tops on a second scouting expedition.

Finally the rest decided that Lablet and Hobart were to try to
establish contact with the aliens once more. After they had gone, Raf
opened a compartment in the flitter, the contents of which were his
particular care. He squatted on his heels and surveyed the neatly
stowed objects inside thoughtfully. A survival kit depended a great
deal on the type of terrain in which the user was planning to
survive--an aquatic world would require certain basic elements, a
frozen tundra others--but there were a few items common to every
emergency, and those were now at Raf's fingertips. The blast bombs,
sealed into their pexilod cases, guaranteed to stop all the attackers
that Terran explorers had so far met on and off worlds, a coil of rope
hardly thicker than a strand of knitting yarn but of inconceivable
toughness and flexibility, an aid kit with endurance drugs and pep
pills which could keep a man on his feet and going long after food and
water failed. He had put them all in their separate compartments.

For a long moment he hunkered there, studying the assortment. And
then, almost as if some will other than his own was making a choice,
he reached out. The rope curled about his waist under his tunic so
tautly that its presence could not be detected without a search, blast
bombs went into the sealed seam pocket on his breast, and two flat
containers with their capsules were tucked away in his belt pouch. He
snapped the door shut and got to his feet to discover Soriki watching
him. Only for a moment was Raf disconcerted. He knew that he would not
be able to explain why he must do what he was going to do. There was
no reason why he should. Soriki, except for being a few years his
senior, had no authority over him. He was not under the com-tech's
orders.

"Another trip into the blue?"

The pilot replied to that with a nod.

"Somehow, boy, I don't think anything's going to stop you, so why
waste my breath? But use your homer--and your eyes!"

Raf paused. There was an unmistakable note of friendliness in the
com-tech's warning. Almost he was tempted to try and explain. But how
could one make plain feelings for which there was no sensible reason?
Sometimes it was better to be quiet.

"Don't dig up more than you can rebury." That warnin