Brenner puffed at the proffered cigar. Something was wrong here--the alien could not be this obvious in his working. Brenner's mind steadily refused to accept the thing that stood before him. The figure cocked an eye at him. "If you don't get back to the station," it said, "you'll never see Barbara again. Or the kid. You know that, don't you? And you want to see Barbara don't you? Don't you?" Brenner did not answer. The figure smiled. "Well, you can see her, if you want to. Right now." And the figure's body and face grew smaller, softened in their lines, and the clothing it wore changed from a severe blue uniform to a light blue dress. "Hello, Will," said Barbara's figure. Brenner still kept silent, staring at the woman's form before him. It was so _like_ her--and in its arms it held a small bundle, which gurgled softly. Brenner's eyes fell to this bundle. Barbara's figure saw the direction of his glance. "You haven't seen the baby yet, have you, Will?" she said, moving toward him. "Look." She held the small bundle out toward him. But as she did, one of her hands dug into the blankets wrapped around the tiny form, wrenched the form from those blankets, and threw it to the floor. Barbara's face, now covered with a too-wide grin, looked up at Brenner as her feet stamped the small figure to a red pulp. "Look, Will," she said, and laughed, stretching her mouth wider, wider, until her face was distorted completely out of shape, and her black hair streamed wildly in the air. Brenner stood paralyzed. The laughter was filling his mind, overcrowding everything else, becoming louder, and louder, and.... It stopped. The red pulp on the floor disappeared, as did the other gnarled figure. All was silent, as it had been before. Gone. The creature was gone, and it had not hurt him at all. Brenner, still rooted in shock, took a few more thoughtless puffs on the cigar the alien had handed him. The third and fourth blocks moved into place. The cigar disappeared. Brenner could no longer feel or taste. * * * * * Rahll rolled in the darkness, his blue line-form glowing more strongly than before. His cannibal-pattern flowed into the thought of all the impulse in the universe around him; of the time when he would be able to branch out, find the stars which were concealed here by distance and time, and absorb the many life-impulses living around those stars, satisfying completely the burning hunger within him. His third plan had worked admirably. He had shocked the other being with obtrusive actions into a state in which he did not notice inobtrusive actions. That would work again. He was still bothered by the other, huge impulse which throbbed against his pattern; it seemed strangely adamant and.... But he couldn't find the exact word for what repelled him. He pushed the pattern aside. Enough time to worry about that after he had absorbed the fifth branch of impulse of the alien being nearby.