The food they gave her was thick red meat, half-cooked. They sat down beside her, three of the old men, together in a small bare hut. None of them ate. They watched her, grinning, speaking lowly and incoherently among themselves. She felt like a blue-ribbon heifer. Best of breed. She found out that she couldn't eat very much. "Food," an old man said with concern, pointing at her plate. He apparently knew less English than the rest. "Food," he repeated insistently, making the motions of eating. "No," Ivy said. She rose up suddenly and shook her head. "I don't want any." If they wanted her to eat, maybe she'd better not eat. Maybe there was something in the food-- They looked her over thoroughly as she stood before them, grinning horribly. They were not too concerned that she did not eat. Later, if necessary, they would come back with vials and needles. The three men rose. One of them motioned the others to leave. They bowed and walked out, looking back over their shoulders to grin. She faced the old man across the low wooden table. "It is perhaps time that you learn why you are here," the old man said quietly. His English was perfect. His face was detached, unsmiling. She waited. "You are to be used for breeding," the old man said. She stared, not understanding. "I will be brief," he said, still quietly, his eyes white and steady. "The sooner you realize the nature of our purpose the sooner you will be content. There is no virtue in resistance. We can keep you under paralysis indefinitely"--he smiled slightly--"for the full nine months, if necessary. Do you understand?" She began to back slowly away. The old man continued to smile. "It is possible that you have already guessed that we are not--human. If not I tell you so now. Our race has its origins in a system of which you have undoubtedly never heard. But that is no matter. Our races are compatible genetically. In the end you will breed." He paused, watching her with a calm amusement. Ivy could not move. "Our race is very old, much, much older than yours. It is also, in a sense, biologically old. In effect, the race is dying. It has been dying for quite some time. We have managed to keep ourselves--virile--by use of the obvious method. It is for this reason that we are here. We need new blood. Young blood. We must interbreed." He walked slowly and calmly around the edge of the table. "You have been chosen to bear our children. This is no particular honor, I know, but I will repeat that you cannot possibly succeed in resisting. Be practical, perform your function. If you are tractable, you will be given much. If you are stubborn, you will be paralyzed. You will not under any circumstances be killed or allowed to die. You will have company. We have--collected--many of your race, both male and female. You will not, of course, be allowed association with the males."