the screens. The Nipe still sat, unmoving. He was apparently in one of
his "sleep" states. The captain wasn't sure that that was the blessing
that it might have seemed. He had no way of knowing how much external
disturbance it would take to "wake" the Nipe, and as long as he was
sitting quietly, the chances were greater that he would hear movement in
the tunnel. If he were active, his senses might be more alert, but he
would also be distracted by his own actions and the noises he made
himself.

It didn't matter, the captain decided. One way was as good as another in
this case. The point was to get Stanton into an advantageous position
before the Nipe knew he was anywhere around.

He looked back at the image of Stanton, a black-clad figure in a
flexible, tough, skin-tight suit. The Nipe would have a hard time biting
through that artificial hide, but it gave Stanton as much freedom as if
he'd been naked.

Stanton knew where he was going. He had studied maps of the area, and
had been taken on a vicarious tour of the route by means of the very
flying eye that was watching him now. But things look different from the
ground than from the air, and no amount of map study will familiarize a
person with terrain as completely as an actual personal survey.

Stanton paused, and Captain Greer heard his voice. "Barhop, this is
Barbell. Those are the cliffs up ahead, aren't they?"

"That's right, Barbell. You go up that slope to your left. The opening
is in that pile of rock at the base of the cliff."

"They're higher than I'd thought," Stanton commented. Then he started
walking again.

The tunnel entrance he was heading for had once been a wide opening,
drilled laterally into the side of the cliff, and big enough to allow
easy access to the tunnels, so that the passengers of those old
underground trains could get to the platforms where they stopped. But
the sun bomb had changed all that. The concussion had shaken loose rock
at the top of the cliff and a minor avalanche had obliterated all
indications of the tunnel's existence, except for one small, narrow
opening near the top of what had once been a wide hole in the face of
the cliff.

Stanton walked slowly toward the spot until he was finally at the base
of the slope of rock created by that long-ago avalanche. "Up there?" he
asked.

"That's right," said Captain Greer.

"I think I'll leave the rifle here, Barhop," Stanton said. "No point in
carrying it up the slope."