The human body wasn't well-adapted for it but Barnhart did his best to join the quronos in xenogutting. Instantly the cry welled up. "_Master._" Barnhart stood up and faced the aliens, deeply disturbed. * * * * * He was even more disturbed when, later, he wrote again in his journal: _Ninth day_ "Qurono," I have learned from the Leader, is a term referring to a particular type of sub-human android. The synthetic process used in manufacturing these men does not allow them to develop beyond a certain point--a built-in safety factor of their creators, I can only suppose. Thus they were given the concept of the axe and have retained it, but they were able only to devise the idea of using the axe to hammer things with and are not capable of thinking of a special hammering tool. With almost complete lack of creative ability they are bound to the same routine, to which they adhere with an almost religious fanaticism. Since last night I have been treated as virtually a god. I have been given one of their buildings entirely for my own use. I find this turn of events absolutely surprising. I intend to discuss this with the Leader today. (Note to any ethnologist who may see these papers: Since all quronos are built to the same standards none is superior to another. But, recognizing the need for one director, each of the one hundred has an alternate term as Leader.) _900: Ninth day_ Despite the upsetting turn of events Barnhart decided he was more comfortable in his familiar role of command. He glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised to note that he had overslept. The time for both breakfast and chronopting was past. He made himself ready and left the building. The alien was waiting just outside the door. He looked as if he hadn't moved all night. Yet, Barnhart thought, he seemed a trifle shorter. "Are you the Leader?" Barnhart asked. "I am the Leader. But you are the Master." As an officer of a close-confines spaceship that sounded a little stuffy even to Barnhart. The fellow _still_ looked shorter. Maybe they had changed Leaders the way he had been told the night before. Or maybe quronos shrank when left out in the night air. "Let's go someplace where we can sit down. And, incidentally, just call me 'sir' or 'captain.'" "Yes, sir." Barnhart nodded. He had been expecting: Yes, Master, I will call you 'captain.' But the alien didn't move. He finally decided that the Leader thought they could sit on the ground where they were standing. Barnhart squatted. The Leader squatted. Before they could speak a muffled explosion vibrated the ground and Barnhart caught a fleeting glimpse of an unstable chemical rocket tearing jerkily into the maroon sky. "Celebration for my arrival?" Barnhart asked. "Perhaps so. We are putting the un-needed ones in status." He decided to let that ride for the moment.