"It is an indescribable state," the Quedak said in an urgent, earnest, eager voice. "Can you imagine yourself as _yourself_ and yet experiencing an entirely new series of sensory networks? You would, for example, experience the world through the perceptors of a dog as he goes through the forest following an odor which to him--and to you--is as clear and vivid as a painted line. A hermit crab senses things differently. From him you experience the slow interaction of life at the margin of sea and land. His time-sense is very slow, unlike that of a bird of paradise, whose viewpoint is spatial, rapid, cursory. And there are many others, above and below the earth and water, who furnish their own specialized viewpoints of reality. Their outlooks, I have found, are not essentially different from those of the animals that once inhabited Mars." "What happened on Mars?" Sorensen asked. "All life died," the Quedak mourned. "All except the Quedak. It happened a long time ago. For centuries there was peace and prosperity on the planet. Everything and everyone was part of the Quedak Cooperation. But the dominant race was basically weak. Their breeding rate went down; catastrophes happened. And finally there was no more life except the Quedak." "Sounds great," Sorensen said ironically. "It was the fault of the race," the Quedak protested. "With sturdier stock--such as you have on this planet--the will to live will remain intact. The peace and prosperity will continue indefinitely." "I don't believe it. What happened on Mars will happen again on Earth if you take over. After a while, slaves just don't care very strongly about living." "You wouldn't be slaves. You would be functional parts of the Quedak Cooperation." "Which would be run by you," Sorensen said. "Any way you slice it, it's the same old pie." "You don't know what you're talking about," the Quedak said. "We have talked long enough. I am prepared to kill one man in the next five minutes. Are you or are you not going to join me?" Sorensen looked at Drake. Drake turned on the transmitter. Gusts of rain splattered on the roof while the transmitter warmed up. Drake lifted the microphone and tapped it, and was able to hear the sound in the speaker. "It's working," he said. * * * * * At that moment something flew against the netting-covered window. The netting sagged; a fruit bat was entangled in it, glaring at them with tiny red-rimmed eyes. "Get some boards over that window!" Sorensen shouted. As he spoke, a second bat hurtled into the netting, broke through it and tumbled to the floor. The men clubbed it to death, but four more bats flew in through the open window. Drake flailed at them, but he couldn't drive them away from the transmitter. They were diving at his eyes, and he was forced back. A wild blow caught one bat and knocked it to the floor with a broken wing. Then the others had reached the transmitter.