"Spies were executed with firing squads during the last Terran war, three hundred years ago," he said. He smiled thinly. "I suppose they consider us spies and want us to feel at home in the morning." "I'm glad they do. I don't want it to be shut up in a room--I would rather be out under the open sky." She poked at the rim of her tray again. "They never did tell us why, Bob. They didn't tell us anything, only that they had no alternative. We didn't hurt any Tharnarians; we only destroyed one of their ships and some of their robots." "We upset their sense of security and showed them they're not secure at all. I suppose they're afraid of an attack from Earth." "They didn't tell us anything," she said again. "They act as though we were animals." "No," he said, "they don't seem to have a very high opinion of our low position on the social evolution scale." He began to eat in the manner of one who knows the body needs nourishment to take advantage of any opportunity for escape, even though the mind may be darkly certain that no such opportunity shall arise. "You ought to eat a little, Ginny," he said. She tried, and gave up after a few bites. "I guess I'm just not hungry--not now," she said. She glanced at the darkened window where _The Cat_ had become invisible. "How long until daylight again, Bob?" He looked at his watch. "Seven hours." "Seven hours?" A touch of wistfulness came into her voice. "I never noticed, before, how short the nights are." * * * * * The robot laid the material Tal-Karanth had requested on his desk, the records and tapes from the Terran ship, and withdrew. Tal-Karanth sighed wearily as he inserted the first tape in the projector, wondering again why he felt the vague dissatisfaction and wondering why he hoped to find an answer among the material from the Terran ship. It would be an all night task--and he could hardly expect to find more than he already knew. Tharnar was not safe and secure from discovery by Terrans in the years to come and faith in the robot fleet had been an illusion. Before setting the projector in operation he put through a call to his daughter. Thralna's image appeared before him, reclining on a couch while two robots worked at caring for her finger nails. She raised up a little as his image appeared before her and the robots stepped back. "Yes, Father?" she asked. She waited for him to speak, her wide gray eyes on his image and her jet-black curls framing her young and delicately beautiful face. For a moment she reminded him of someone; someone more mature and stronger-- With something of a shock he realized it was the Terran girl his daughter reminded him of; that the Terran girl seemed the more mature of the two although Thralna was twenty-eight and the Terran girl was twenty-one. They had the same gray eyes and black curls, the same curve to the jaw, the same chin and full lips....