But he didn't and all he could do was know the golden face was coming up to his, her eyes nearly closed, her lips apart--and then all at once he swore and sent her spinning away from him. He stepped back feeling his heart jumping inside of him. Sweat prickled out on his forehead. On the ground in front of him were five girls with the tan skin and shimmering brown hair. He heard "Nic ..." and it was a multi-voiced echo. Five faces paled and ten eyes stared in panic. Fifty fingers clutched at five throats. It was a quintuple exposure of the girl he had just held in his arms, and it made his blood thin and chill in his veins. "For heaven's sake, Nic ..." and the echo of five voices wavered through the jungle. Caine stood motionless, staring. Five hands reached out for help. Ten eyes pleaded. His nerves were like flying charges of electricity along his spine. Then there was a sudden swift movement and the five figures before him meshed into one jumbled mass and began moving away from him, through the green growth. He watched, feeling the sweat on his forehead turn cold. This would be the way the Venusians would do it. Not force or violence, but this. A quiet, smooth absorption of the girl through illusion, the deadliest power of the Venusian. A hypnotic lock of his brain and hers so that instead of seeing four green-skinned Venusians and one girl, he saw five girls. And there was, he knew, no way to break through the spell. The illusion would remain true to smell and touch as well as sight and hearing. He heard five voices ring out together through the jungle. "Nic, please!" * * * * * He started forward. As he moved, he examined himself for one brief moment, asking himself why he was going after a girl he told himself he hated. And there was no answer, except the same pulling force that had made him want her with every fiber of his body only a few seconds ago. He knew, reasonably, that a loss of a girl who was a daughter of a Colony official would have the same effect as a fired fuse in the relations between the natives and the Colonizers. But even this was, at the moment, unimportant, and it was only an emotion that drove him forward, an emotion that got into his blood and brain. And he hated it and he tried to free himself of it, but it drove him on, and all he could think of was tearing the girl free from the grasp of the creatures. But how? He didn't know, and he kept following the jumbled movement of tan skin and blue cloth ahead of him. He couldn't use the gun at his side, because he couldn't tell reality from illusion. He wouldn't know whether he would find his bullet in a green globular head or in the finely shaped head with the shimmering brown hair. He could only follow and think, think of an answer. The jungle rippled with the movement of the five forms ahead of him, and Caine went on, swinging at the growth, swearing, sweating, driving his brain to find the solution.