Kolin permitted himself to try the dream on for
size.

He considered what form might most easily escape the notice of search
parties and still be tough enough to live a long time without renewal.
Another factor slipped into his musings: mere hope of escape was
unsatisfying after the outburst that had defined his fuming hatred for
Haurtoz.

_I'd better watch myself!_ he thought. _Don't drop diamonds to grab at
stars!_

"What I wish I could do is not just get away but get even for the way
they make us live ... the whole damn set-up. They could just as easy
make peace with the Earth colonies. You know why they don't?"

"Why?" wheezed Ashlew.

"They're scared that without talk of war, and scouting for Earth fleets
that never come, people would have time to think about the way they have
to live and who's running things in the Planetary State. Then the gravy
train would get blown up--and I mean blown up!"

The tree was silent for a moment. Kolin felt the branches stir
meditatively. Then Ashlew offered a suggestion.

"I could tell the Life your side of it," he hissed. "Once in with us,
you can always make thinking connections, no matter how far away. Maybe
you could make a deal to kill two birds with one stone, as they used to
say on Earth...."

* * * * *

Chief Steward Slichow paced up and down beside the ration crate turned
up to serve him as a field desk. He scowled in turn, impartially, at his
watch and at the weary stewards of his headquarters detail. The latter
stumbled about, stacking and distributing small packets of emergency
rations.

The line of crewmen released temporarily from repair work was transient
as to individuals but immutable as to length. Slichow muttered something
profane about disregard of orders as he glared at the rocky ridges
surrounding the landing place.

He was so intent upon planning greetings with which to favor the tardy
scouting parties that he failed to notice the loose cloud drifting over
the ridge.

It was tenuous, almost a haze. Close examination would have revealed it
to be made up of myriads of tiny spores. They resembled those cast forth
by one of the bushes Kolin's party had passed. Along the edges, the haze
faded raggedly into thin air, but the units evidently formed a cohesive
body. They drifted together, approaching the men as if taking
intelligent advantage of the breeze.

One of Chief Slichow's staggering flunkies, steal