It had been, before Tara's lifetime, a much more numerous people. Perhaps once they had lived on the asteroid's surface. They were of a different bodily structure from earth-humans--cold-blooded, in comparison with ourselves. Then the Great Change had driven them in here--and killed most of them, so that now, so far as Tara knew, only these few thousand were left. "The Great Change?" I said. "It was when this world first came into the Solar System. My father has explained it to me. It happened at about the time of my birth when this world rounded the sun. Almost all of them died then. The heat was too terrible to them." * * * * * And that time was coming again! Zura now was heading to round the sun, close, between the orbits of Mercury and Vulcan. Already, as I well knew, the little asteroid was inside the orbit of Venus.... With the protective blanket of heavy atmosphere, and the fires which doubtless were at the core of the little world, Zura, even in the realms of outer Interstellar space, had been habitable. But that protective atmospheric blanket was not enough, inside the orbit of Mercury! The heat would melt these ice-grottos. Already it was melting the outside surface. "And you have no crime here?" I murmured. I could not avoid a faint irony. "Nothing ever goes wrong? Everyone always does everything exactly right?" We were back in the prismatic little garden, walking down one of its glowing blue-white aisles. She stopped and faced me. "They would not dare do wrong," she said. Again her eyes were flashing. "I see," I murmured. "But you have done well, Tara. You and your father." And then, some damnable little imp within me made me add: "On earth, Tara, our people sometimes resent that their rulers live in palaces, when they can have only a hovel. That room where I met you--and your gardens here--they're very beautiful--" It stung her. I cursed myself for the words, almost as I said them. She leaped to her feet, backed away, panting, in a tumult of hurt and anger. "So all you can do is let me talk and then jibe at me! I--I hate you! You and all your kind!" "Oh, Tara--I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Really, I'm sorry--" "I hate you--" The words died in her throat. Behind us, here in the glittering garden, from Tara's apartments a group of Zurian women came running. They were terrified, calling out to her in their guttural voices. Her personal servants. And now, with them, a dozen or more of the little guards appeared. They came from several directions, shouting for Tara; confused, panic-stricken, wildly jabbering and gesticulating as they gathered near us. Tara's questioning glance crossed with mine. "Why--why, what--" she stammered. * * * * *