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."
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.
At the counter there were five people. All with their backs turned. The
counter man was a young boy with a fat nose. Web slipped into the phone
booth, deciding on an impulse to call Dundon anyway. It was possible
that he would die soon, and there ought to be someone who knew about
the naked man.
In his pockets were a half dollar and three pennies. No other change.
He swore.
At that moment he looked up out of the booth, saw a small, dry man walk
stiffly into the store.
He froze.