"Captain Jonas," it said, speaking in a different accent this time. "There's a war going on and we can't take any chances on how the aliens will feel about it. We have a fix on you and I'm sending a flight of homing missiles. Nuclear warheads." She stiffened as she heard the sentence, her red lips drawn back from tightly clenched teeth. In a faint voice, she said, "I--I guess there isn't much I can do about it, is there?" "Can you keep him there and busy so that he won't notice the missiles coming?" She gave a short, brittle laugh. "Yes sir. I feel fairly sure I can keep him interested for--" she glanced speculatively at Tensor "--a half hour at least. Probably much longer." "It'll only be fifteen minutes," the panel rasped. "We'll deal with the others as we find them. You will be decorated for this service, even though you are only a civilian. Posthumously, of course." The panel was silent. "Oh sure," she said in a deadly quiet voice. "I'm glad to be appreciated." Tensor was puzzled. The conversation did not appear to make a great deal of sense to him. He hovered over the panel and gazed at it curiously. "Just another superior," she told him. "It seems that practically everybody is my superior or was." She sighed and looked down at herself, wistfully thinking that it was a shame to have to waste all the carefully nurtured loveliness that she knew she was. She looked up at Tensor, who had lost interest in the panel and was busily examining the outside in a viewscope. "Come here, big boy," she said quickly. When he turned to face her, she added, "keep your attention over here." With an agreeable smile, he floated to her and, in obedience to her directions, lifted her into his arms. She put her lips to his, her hands gently caressing his cheek. It was a shock. Tensor let out his pent-up breath explosively and ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the mixture of saliva and lipstick. What should have been moderately repulsive to him had been transformed by the chemical sympathy in his veins into something quite overwhelming. His eyes were bright and eager. "It's a dirty trick and I feel like a jerk," she whispered sadly to him. "But what else can I do?" "I beg your pardon?" Tensor murmured happily. "I do not understand you." "Oh well," she breathed softly, smiling a crooked little smile. "Neither one of us will ever know when it happens. A pity to spoil it so soon, though." In his unaccustomed confusion, Tensor could not follow her thought, but he could grasp the immediate situation. He grinned and nuzzled her affectionately, and decided to stay a while longer. * * * * * Curl was floating langorously in his comfortable focus, eyes half closed and glazed, mouth droolingly limp and hands carelessly askew. He formed his hyperimage to appear erect and neat--and with a politely interested expression--while he idly contemplated the telepathic picture being projected into his own mind.