He cupped his hand on the back of my neck. "Affirmative, Jonathan. A pretty damned good one, too." Ellik stood staring out the door, gnawing on one of his knuckles, letting the sun turn the front of him into gold, so he looked like half a statue, and half a man. "I suppose it had to come out in him sooner or later," he said. "What, Mike?" "What could we expect? It's the basic quality of treachery in the Oriental mind." * * * * * When the shadows were at their longest and the alien sun was down the closest to the horizon without actually going under, Ellik marched up the path shoving a new Indigo. The Azures supplied Mike with all the flunkies he wanted to gather food and the like for him, as his natural right. But I thought we had enough of them hanging around our quarters. I couldn't imagine what he would want with another one. The alien hovered at the door. Ellik kicked him in the calf to make him understand he was to go inside. "Look at him, Johnny," Ellik said, pushing the fellow forward. "Not a mongoloid, would you say?" "No." The alien looked stupid--blue and stupid. His face was hanging there, but it wasn't pushed out of shape any more than the faces of the Azures. The Indigo blinked back at me. What he also looked was not friendly. Ellik took the Indigo's cheeks in his hand and angled the face toward the light. "He's a half-breed, Johnny, or otherwise the gene was recessive. He wasn't damaged before birth, only after--when he started to breathe." "What do you mean, Mike?" "You ever hear of cyanosis, Johnny?" "No." "Well, these creatures have something like it. The Indigos don't get enough oxygen in their blood cells. It makes them sluggish; it turns them blue like the pictures of 'blue babies' in the old books." "I never saw a picture like that in an old book," I said. "Did you ever _see_ a book? Sorry, Johnny. Just kidding." Ellik rubbed his hands together. "Well! I theorized that there is no basic difference in the Azures and the Indigos except improper aeration of their blood. So, you see, an Indigo is only a _sick_ Azure, and I am going to make this Indigo _well_." "How can you do that?" "It's simple," Mike said irritably. "The Indigos must have a malformation of the heart causing an abnormal communication between the venous and arterial side of the circulation system. A little surgery and I adjust a valve in the heart. No more communication. Proper aeration. Enough oxygen. The deep blue color goes, leaving only the lighter blue of the natural pigmentation. The patient feels better, acts better, thinks better, looks better. In short, he is no longer an Indigo but an Azure." "Is--is this what you're going to show Lee?" I ventured.