Isaac Trigg asked, "Are their cases hopeless?" "I wouldn't say that. But it will require weeks of treatment before they can be admitted among us without danger. There's a mob psychology about their aberration that is contagious." Barb Poindexter sank slowly into her chair. "That settles that!" said Matt. "Or is there any further objection to keeping them segregated?" and he looked straight at Nesbit. The palaeontologist looked as if he wanted to say plenty, but he kept his mouth shut. Margot Drake said suddenly in a ringing voice, "Do you mind if I ask a question?" Everyone turned to stare at the red-headed leader of the Amazons. She was regarding them coolly. "No," said Matt. "Go ahead." "I'll pass up those cracks about our sanity," Margot said. "They may or may not be true. I don't care. But is it a fact that the world is coming to an end?" It was the fat biologist who answered. "For our type of life--yes. For this alien silicon-base species of protoplasm--no. A million, two million years hence, the silicon amoebas may even evolve an intelligent species. But, unless we establish a sanctuary here, there won't be any humans to witness it. Does that answer your question?" "Yes," replied Margot. "Now I've a proposition to make." "Go ahead," said Matt. There was a speculative gleam in his blue eyes. "We need you," began Margot. "I'm not denying that. You've got the knowledge monopolized. But you need us, too. We've got the woman-power necessary to do the work that must be done...." "You're suggesting that we combine forces?" said Matt. Margot nodded. "There's only one hitch," Matt pointed out. "We can't trust you!" The red-head looked taken aback. "No," she agreed after a moment of silence. "No, I suppose not--if you've swallowed all that hogwash...." "And," Matt relentlessly pressed his point, "we have the fort. We have tanks and guns and ammunition. We can build the sanctuary despite your Amazons. It may take us longer, but it can be done. And your girls can't save themselves from the gradual destruction of all carbon life. They haven't the special knowledge that's needed." "Then you won't consider...." "No," interrupted Matt. "I didn't say that." Margot Drake regarded the stocky black-haired palaeobotanist in perplexity. "What do you propose?" "That your forces disarm and give themselves up." Two bright spots began to burn in Margot Drake's cheek bones. "That's preposterous!" Matt shrugged. The red-haired woman chewed her lip savagely. At length she asked, "What would happen to us then?" "Nothing," Matt replied with a grin. "You would have to work, of course. But we're all going to do that--and take orders. Then you would have to be segregated, at least until we get the fort encased, the hydroponic gardens growing. But that's all." "Segregated?"