He turned and strode to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, his smile grew wide and his teeth showed. "I think it best that you be paralyzed now." Ivy still could not move. There was in all this a dreamlike quality which she could not believe. Within her mind she slowly retreated. The old man opened the door. Two men who had been waiting came quickly in, clutched her, injected her. In a moment she lay on the floor, the drug hanging heavily on her wildly pulsing heart. The first old man stood over her, pulled out a small notebook. "You are lucky," he said, with an ironic smile, "I think I will breed you myself." He bent down and touched her. The white eyes grew dark at the edges. "I think I will breed you tomorrow," he said. * * * * * The scout ship of the Galactics hung in a hole in space several feet in the air above Main Street. The bending mechanism was on, light rays were diverted around it. It was invisible, unapproachable, although it admitted enough light so that it itself could see. Kunklin and Prule, who were for a while similarly almost nonexistent, floated down from the ship and walked away curiously in the middle of the street. They adjusted themselves to solidity in the alley behind Web's hotel. The power necessary to maintain the bender was enormous, and had to come from portable power sources, and they decided that it would be best to save power for emergencies. Prule searched for a moment through a small, voluted lens. He found Web. "What's he doing?" "Nothing." "Ingenious man. Is he armed?" "No." "Um. We cannot permit him to be killed." "Well, he is apparently very strong." "There are times when that helps." "Still, we had better record him." "Wait. He's coming down." * * * * * It was time to do something. Web did not know what, but he had to do something. There was a phone in the shabby little foyer, but he passed it by. It had occurred to him that Dundon would be no help at all. He stepped out into the street. He had a strong fleeting impulse to tell somebody, anybody, just for the companionship of another human being. Immediately, the thought passed. "I have just come down from a space satellite," he would say, "where I encountered forty-seven disappearing men and a naked man in open space--" He looked around for the nearest drugstore. It was quite dark in the streets and he was not too conspicuous in the tight army clothes--a field jacket will fit an elephant--but he could not help feeling like a neon sign. But a gun. He needed a gun, and a quick way out of here. Hell, where could you get a gun? From the police. He looked around seriously and purposefully, but no blue coat was near. He walked into the drugstore.