"That," he said, and he included the _huj_, "is a mouthful. There doesn't seem to be a Martian in this village who can cook worth a damn, and you--" this to the pasty faced Martian who stood attentively by--"are no exception. You're getting off easy with this job, Martian. Or would you rather go back to digging up history with the rest of your tribe?" "I am sorry." The Martian advanced and bobbed his head. "The preparation of your foodstuffs is difficult for me to comprehend. Would you care to try something else, perhaps?" Barnes skidded the fork onto the plate and put his hands flat on the stone table. "No. Just take this away." The Conquerors watched the creature as it moved silently off with the plate of _huj_. All except Randolph, the youngest of the trio. * * * * * He sat nearest the stone-silled window, his gaze reaching out distantly over the sandscape. On the far bank of the canal he could see a few natives with their guards, emerging from a wood and stone structure that thrust finger-shaped into the pink sky. "No race should have its soul dissected," he said slowly. "Not, at least, until they're extinct and can't feel it." He avoided Barnes' sudden, sharp look. "Our Archaeologists over there--" pointing at the moving dots--"are poking around in burial crypts or sacred temples or whatever--it's like cutting someone up alive. We don't know what those things mean to these Martians." Barnes laughed, more of a snort. "You speak as if 'these Martians' were people." He leaned forward and blinked his emphasis. "What in hell ever happened to you that you've got such ideas? Primitive, misshapen morons--you can't think of them as persons! Don't let an Intelligence Officer hear you talking that way or you'll find yourself getting shipped home!" Randolph's eyes flicked Barnes' heavy face, then turned to the mural on the restaurant wall. "This is very beautiful," he said. He bent closer, examining the delicate work. "This isn't moronic. You're wrong, Barnes." Burke spoke harshly: "You'd better shut up, Randolph. You're sitting there emoting over decadent art and there's an Intelligence Officer at the bar." Young Randolph stiffened and forced a smile. "Of course, the Martians are a degenerated race. Our Archaeologists have revealed that Mars was spiritually effeminized thousands of years ago. Our colonization will have a reforming effect upon them. It is a healthy thing. That is our mission in time and space." The Martian had returned and was again standing at service. Randolph caught his eye and flushed, returned his gaze to the mural. Burke cleared his throat. The Intelligence Officer at the bar was still looking icily at Randolph's back, twiddling his drink with a wooden mixer.