The leader went on. "I may interject here that we took over control of your artificial satellite some days ago. We did not kill the men therein, who were not enemies, but control them by simple hypnosis. They will of course be freed of this as soon as our job is done and a peace settled on between our worlds." Brave looked up at the sky. Albertus, of course, could not be seen with the naked eye, but he said, "I know a couple of the lads that run that space station. Good boys. I'd been afraid they were dead. I knew they wouldn't have let us be smeared like this if they'd been able to prevent it." "Only one city we bombed that we had not personally checked on; that is the large one over there," and he gestured toward Manhattan. "We could not send our men on the ground into that place; the entranceways are too complex, the place is too big, it would have taken too long; and we could scarcely fly over and drop spies. After earnest consultation we decided to bomb it. Being the largest concentration of civilized people in your world, being so close to the major rebel project, we felt--we _knew_--that it was full of enemies. Our stupidly certain assumption was wrong. We can never make reparation for that mistake, we cannot begin to make amends to you. Your only help will be the knowledge that we will live with the memory of that mistake the rest of our lives; and they are long, long lives. "We are men of good will. We beg you to believe this. We have outlawed war and our planet lives at peace, prosperous peace. Now we have committed an intolerable crime against a brother race. We are hurt, in our way, as much as you have been hurt." * * * * * Brave had taken Alan's hand in his own and was squeezing it hard; the scientist thought suddenly that if he were not impervious to pain, his hand would be aching like fury. Brave said, "Son, I need help," quite simply and humbly. "What is it, Brave?" "Alan, these people are good. They look like barbarians, they ride in twenty-second century vehicles, and they plaster our greatest cities into the earth. But they're good. He isn't lying." "What's the problem, Brave?" "I hate them," the Indian said fiercely. "I'd like to have them all here," he let go Alan's hand and jabbed a great forefinger at his palm. "I'd smash 'em like lice. I don't want to feel that way. It's primitive. But strip me of the veneer I've lost these last hours, and I'm primitive to the core. I'm simple and single-minded. I hate people who do me harm. I won't go berserk and start in on these gentry, but by heaven, by the Great Spirit, I'd like to wipe them all out--slaughter them all! I want to sacrifice them to the ghosts of our dead cities."