Lynne lay on her plastomat for the next two hours, one hour on her stomach, the other on her back. Under the conditions of light Martian gravity, these positions had been discovered to be better for yoga breathing and trance than the cross-legged, sitting positions of yoga on Earth. More important, they maintained a more normal flow of circulation through the brain, a flow essential to full TP keying and control. At first, as she lay prone on the mat, it seemed to her that every stray thought in the Depot came tripping, unwanted, into her head--every stray thought in Mars. She could, had she wished, have identified the senders, but to do so would have destroyed her purpose. A vital factor in Rana’s success with the first Mars-born baby, had been the isolation of her post, and her ability to shut out extraneous thoughts, and concentrate entirely upon the union of her own existence and the new life blossoming in her womb. Lynne breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She relaxed the muscles at the corners of her eyes and little by little awareness of outside thoughts faded. At the end of the first hour, after rolling over on her back, she was able to lose all outside interference in a matter of mere minutes. Then her real concentration began. She grew conscious of the unborn child she was carrying, even to sensing the faint and fitful radiations of its thoughts. From time to time she felt the stir of its body, the kick of its feet. She conveyed a message of union, of _oneness_, of warmth and security to the embryo brain within her. Then, after a while, she slept dreamlessly. She awoke at the exact end of the second hour, feeling serene and refreshed. A thought reached her mind, probing, a thought unmistakably that of her twin, Revere. He was telling her, if she was awake, to go immediately to the doctor’s office. Something about Joanna Wheatley and a cattle plague and the DT’s.... Revere and the doctor were waiting for Lynne in the physician’s inner laboratory. It was the room of a medical jack-of-all-trades, for Mars, being thinly populated and in need of a variety of medical services, was unable to afford the specialists of Earth. Dr. Smetana was not only a fine general practitioner. He was also the only competent psychiatrist in this entire sector of the Red Planet. It was therefore not surprising that he had been assigned to Nampura Depot, since the telepathic headquarters of Mars was a place where, presumably a head-shrinker might be needed. However, as Dr. Smetana was fond of saying, “In that department, I’m merely an observer, since TP’s are mentally just about the healthiest folk there are. Telepathy and repression don’t exactly walk hand in hand.”