She nodded, smiling brightly. "A pet," she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "That is right." I realized then, with mild astonishment, that she was not very intelligent. Her apparent wit and sharpness before had been only reflections of what she read in our minds. "Are you all Kohnke's pets?" she caught me unprepared. I coughed uncomfortably, and shook my head. * * * * * Her mood changed. "I've been so lonesome, Bill. When I do not belong to someone I am so unhappy. But I won't be unhappy anymore." For the first time I felt sorry for her. "Bill?" Her voice was timid. "Do you believe I will be punished for leaving the Masters? I did not mean to." "Who would punish you now?" I asked. "The Masters' God. They always told me he would punish me if I were bad. And he is such a terrible God." Her expression became bright with hope. "Is your God terrible, Bill?" I tried to reassure her, to pacify this naive creature with her own private terrors, but she must have read in my mind how our Christian God could also be terrible in his wrath and justice, for she gave a small cry and pulled herself close to me. Several minutes went by while she trembled in my arms and wept disconsolately. Finally she quieted and in a young girl's voice asked, "May I use your hanky, daddy?" In surprise I held her out from me and saw that now she was my daughter, Joanie, with her newly bobbed hair, and her sweet face still wet with tears. Of course. While I held her I had been thinking of her as a child. As my child, Joanie. I wiped away her tears and blew her nose. I thought swiftly. Perhaps this was my opportunity. Speaking as I would have to Joanie I asked gently, "Won't you help us get the fuel we need, honey?" "I can't." Her childish wistfulness was replaced by the stubbornness I had encountered before. I was careful to restrain my impatience. "You could come with us to Earth," I argued, without raising my voice. "You wouldn't be lonesome there." "I couldn't live that long out of the sun," she answered. "How did you live on the Master's ship?" I asked. "They could bring the sunlight inside. You can't." "Isn't there any way we could keep you alive?" I asked. She shook her head. Which left nothing except my desperate plan. * * * * * Burgess made the preparations I requested, without question, and I returned to Kohnke. It took me some time to get him in the frame I wanted. When he began to blubber, "I want to go home, I want to go home," I led him from the ship. The anamorph was outside, as I knew she would be. The men were all in the ship. I bowed deeply to Kohnke and turned to the anamorph. "He would speak with you," I said impressively. Her eyes widened with apprehension. I was not concerned about her reading my thoughts now. What she read in Kohnke's mind would be more believable to her.