"Fit," Saxon said. Coldly, it seeped in. To survive? To be a playmate, a slave? "It's been a game," he said, grasping her shoulders. "You've known all along." "They're taking the transmitter to the Landing Site now," she said. "Would you like to watch?" Watch judgment of the outcasts on one of those who had marooned them? Why not? Lang and Merl were no longer in the house. Veena touched a silver stud in one corner, and one side of the room dissolved from a vista of golden wheat to a grassy amphitheatre. There were people assembled in the clearing. Lang and Merl stood on a mossy dais, making a speech. He saw the ship. It was a giant silver ovoid, fretted with strange vanes, pockmarked by the red cancer of rust. Towering forest patriarchs guarded that ship like a woodland shrine. A ship that had never been born on Earth. An alien ship. Understanding came, and a quiet horror. He lurched away from the screen, away from Veena. He was outside now, and running. He was a good Inhibition agent, he had been conditioned to the shock of alien concepts for half his lifetime, but the ground reeled beneath him as he ran and he could feel the hot trickle of blood where he had bitten through his lip to keep from screaming. Aliens. From _outside_. Homo Superior, treating his ape-brother with an hospitable contempt. Playing their inscrutable game. The lifeboat came down almost in front of him. It came down with a whining snarl and settled into the plowed field. The airlock opened. Primus Gant stepped out. His blue eyes were very cold and he was smiling. "Report, Commander." Years of conditioned reflex brought him erect, made him whisper, "Mission unsuccessful." He swayed, almost fell. Gant held him. "Easy, lad. We got the blowup a few minutes ago. It took us awhile to home in on the distress transmitter in your utility kit." He chuckled at Saxon's blank stare. "Whenever an agent's ship is destroyed his utility belt automatically functions as a distress signal." Saxon shook his head painfully. "You've been waiting?" "We started ten days ago when your monitor gave out with the annihilation alarm." He eyed Saxon keenly. "Just how bad is it?" Saxon told him. Gant's face turned a dirty white. "Aliens," he said thickly. "They probably murdered the original colony. You've come through nicely, lad. It may mean promotion." He turned into the ship. "Come on." "Wait." Saxon's voice was a dry whisper. "You're not going to--" "Demolition," Gant said. "I've got a task force up there that can crack a planet. Let's go, Commander." _I will not shrink from any cup of duty--_ "Please," Saxon said huskily. "I don't believe they're inimical to Man. They're altruists." "So?" "They're benevolent," Saxon pleaded. "Both races can live together!" "Don't be a fool," Gant grunted, and turned into the airlock. Saxon leapt. One palm came down hard at the base of the Director's skull.