a flashlight battery, a piece of
copper foil, a few transistors and bamboo tube and turn out a paralyzer
gun that'll stop a man cold in his tracks. And you know how much it
costs?"

"No, Weelbrrr. How much?"

"Ten cents. It wears out after two or three months, but what's the
difference? I make 'em as a hobby--turn out two or three an hour."

"Weelbrrr! You're a man of marvels! Hello! We will drink!"

And Murphy settled back in the wicker chair, sipping his rice beer.

* * * * *

"Today," said Murphy, "I get into a space-suit, and ride out to the
ruins in the plain. Ghatamipol, I think they're called. Like to come?"

"No, Weelbrrr." Soek Panjoebang looked off into the garden, her hands
busy tucking a flower into her hair. A few minutes later she said, "Why
must you waste your time among the rocks? There are better things to do
and see. And it might well be--dangerous." She murmured the last word
off-handedly.

"Danger? From the sjambaks?"

"Yes, perhaps."

"The Sultan's giving me a guard. Twenty men with crossbows."

"The sjambaks carry shields."

"Why should they risk their lives attacking me?"

Soek Panjoebang shrugged. After a moment she rose to her feet. "Goodbye,
Weelbrrr."

"Goodbye? Isn't this rather abrupt? Won't I see you tonight?"

"If so be Allah's will."

Murphy looked after the lithe swaying figure. She paused, plucked a
yellow flower, looked over her shoulder. Her eyes, yellow as the flower,
lucent as water-jewels, held his. Her face was utterly expressionless.
She turned, tossed away the flower with a jaunty gesture, and continued,
her shoulders swinging.

Murphy breathed deeply. She might have made picturama at that....

One hour later he met his escort at the valley gate. They were dressed
in space-suits for the plains, twenty men with sullen faces. The trip to
Ghatamipol clearly was not to their liking. Murphy climbed into his own
suit, checked the oxygen pressure gauge, the seal at his collar. "All
ready, boys?"

No one spoke. The silence drew out. The gatekeeper, on hand to let the
party out, snickered. "They're all ready, Tuan."

"Well," said Murphy, "let's go then."

Outside the gate Murphy made a second check of his equipment. No leaks
in his suit. Inside pressure: 14.6. Outside pressure: zero. His twenty
guards morosely inspected their crossbows and slim swords.

The white ruins of Ghatamipol lay five miles across Pharasang Plain. The
ho