"You wouldn't kill them. You'd let them live, to admire and praise you for saving them. It would amuse you just to watch them for some time. Then you could take one, once in a while, for a special game. "I don't want to do this. But it's better that they should live that way than be destroyed." "And better for you, too, eh?" The Sun-child swirled reflectively. "Breed men like cattle, always have a supply. It's a wonderful idea...." "Then you'll do it?" Sweat dampened Falken's brow. "Perhaps.... Yes! Tell me, quickly, what you want!" Falken swung to his stunned and unbelieving companions. He gripped an arm of each, painfully hard. "Trust me. Trust me, for God's sake!" he whispered. Then, aloud, "Help me to tell it what we need." There was a little laughing ripple of golden notes in the Sun-child's light, but Falken was watching Sheila's eyes. A flash of understanding crossed them, a glint of savage hope. "Oxygen," she said. "Nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon dioxide...." "And soil," said Falken. "Lime, iron, aluminum, silicon...." * * * * * They came to on a slope of raw, red earth, still wet from the rain. A range of low hills lifted in the distance against a strange black sky. Small tattered clouds drifted close above in the rainbow's light. Falken got to his feet. As far as he could see there were rolling stretches of naked earth, flecked with brassy pools and little ruddy streams. He opened his helmet and breathed the warm wet air. He let the rich soil trickle through his fingers and thought of the Unregenerates in their frozen burrows. He smiled, because there were tears in his hard blue eyes. Sheila gave a little sobbing laugh and cried, "Eric, it's done!" Paul Avery lifted dark golden eyes to the hills, and was silent. There was a laughing tremble of color in the air where the Sun-child floated. Small wicked flames drowned the sad, soft mauves. The Sun-child said: "Look, Eric Falken. There, behind you." Falken turned--and looked into his own face. It stood there, his own lean body in the worn vac suit, his own gypsy face and the tangle of frosted curls. Only the eyes were different. The chill, distant blue was right, but there were spiteful flecks of gold, a malicious sparkle that was like.... "Yes," purred the Sun-child. "Myself. A tiny particle, to activate the shell. A perfect likeness, no?" A slow, creeping chill touched Falken's heart. "Why?" he asked. "Long ago I learned the art of lying from men. I lied about reading minds. Your plan to trick me into building this world and then destroy me was plain on the instant of conception." Laughing wicked colors coiled and spun. "Oh, but I'm enjoying this! Not since I built my shell have I had such a game! Can you guess why I made your double?" Falken's lips were tight with pain, his eyes savage with remorse at his own stupidity. "It--he will go in my ship to bring my people here."