For Ric, the next few days were an anguish that surpassed the most refined torture. He worked long hours in the spore-fields, doing the work of a hundred Phobians. One worked hard, in order to retain life and sanity; to remain long idle, out there was to die a slow death. As it was, the stuff was taking an insidious toll of him. At times he wondered why he bothered. But he drove himself on, hoping against hope.
Once he even partook of the eishn stems that Yarnith offered. The stuff was bitter, gum-like, and offered a soaring elation and a surcease from the terrible fatigue; but the after-effect was so depressive that he didn't try it again.
He stayed with Yarnith's little group, moving and working and fighting with them. The others became increasingly hostile, launching sporadic attacks—those who could rouse themselves from lethargy—in an effort to get some of the eishn stems. But soon even Yarnith's small supply was gone, divided among his group.
Still the fighting went on, for the sake of action and blood-lust. Each day men died. Each day Ric had to protect himself. He found himself taking a fierce joy in it, and he no longer looked upon these Phobians as men. They were mere beasts with the killer instinct.
Ric was becoming one of them.
Only one thing sustained him. After each day's work the Martian, Naric, came for him in the atomo-car and took him back to his quarters in the city. There at least he had the company of Praana and Tal Horan. He could bathe, and rest, and the meals weren't bad.
Tal Horan, in the meantime, was working hard with Kueelo and the others in the laboratories, at the atomic furnaces, at the forges. Kueelo seemed not to care how much Tal learned of their work. He was supremely confident.
And well he might be. Tal told Ric of it.
"I've seen the newly processed metal under test! It stands up indefinitely against the metal-devouring spores—and eventually it will be a complete counter-active against them. And the new rocket-tubes are frightening! I saw one of them in the testing block, subjected to internal blasts far greater than anything known. It seems almost resilient under stress!" Tal's face had gone pale as he talked. "Later they plan to equip an entire Fleet. If that time ever comes...."
Time began to lose all meaning for Ric. Days blended into a phantasmagoria of working and fighting ... blood and madness. Already he was forgetting how he had come here. He cared even less. He was here to die, and he hoped it would be soon.