No! The Tech’s mind said no.

That was enough. He returned to his host mind and rested a moment, then cautiously expanded . . .

Nothing!

His host mind was blank. At most, there was a vague sense of warmth, and a dull flicker of undirected response to basic stimuli.

Was his host dying after all? Aphasic? Decerebrate?

He moved quickly to the mind nearest, dredging it for information about his host and finding it.

His host was an infant of species.

An infant? A normal infant? And so undeveloped?

He allowed his mind to sink into and coalesce for a moment with what existed in his host. He searched for the motor areas of the brain and found them with difficulty. A cautious stimulus was followed by an erratic motion of his host’s extremities. He attempted finer control and failed.

He felt anger. Had they thought of everything after all? Had they thought of intelligences without mental contact? Had they thought of young creatures as completely undeveloped as though they were still in the egg? ‘

It meant, of course, that he could not, in the person of his host, activate the Receiving Station. The muscles and mind were far too weak, far too uncontrolled for any of the three methods outlined by Gan.

He thought intensely. He could scarcely expect to influence much mass through the imperfect focusing of his host’s material brain cells, but what about an indirect influence through an adult’s brain? Direct physical influence would be minute; it would amount to the breakdown of the appropriate molecules of adenosine triphosphate and acetylcholine. Thereafter the creature would act on its own.

He hesitated to try this’, afraid of failure, then cursed himself for a coward. He entered the closest mind once more. It was a female of the species and it was in the state of temporary inhibition he had noticed in others. It didn’t surprise him. Minds as rudimentary as these would need periodic respites.

He considered the mind before him now, fingering mentally the areas that might respond to stimulation. He chose one, stabbed at it, and the conscious areas flooded with life almost simultaneously. Sense impressions poured in and the level of thought rose steeply.

Good!

But not good enough. That was a mere prod, a pinch. It was no order for specific action.

He stirred uncomfortably as emotion cascaded over him. It came from the mind he had just stimulated and was directed, of course, at his host and not at him. Nevertheless, its primitive crudities annoyed him and he closed his mind against the unpleasant warmth of her uncovered feelings.

A second mind centered about his host, and had he been matenal or had he controlled a satisfactory host, he would have struck out in vexation.

Great caverns, weren’t they going to allow him to concentrate on his serious business?

He thrust sharply at the second mind, activating centers of discomfort, and it moved away.

He was pleased. That had been more than a simple, undefined stimulation, and it had worked nicely. He had cleared the mental atmosphere.

He returned to the Tech who controlled the vehicle. He would know the details concerning the surface over which they were passing.

Water? He sorted the data quickly.

Water! And more water!

By the everlasting Levels, the word ‘ocean’ made sense. The old, traditional word ‘ocean.’ Who would dream that so much water could exist.

But then, if this was ‘ocean,’ then the traditional word ‘island’ had an obvious significance. He thrust his whole mind into the quest for geographical information. The ‘ocean’ was speckled with dots of land but he needed exact—

He was interrupted by a short stab of surprise as his host moved through space and was held against the neighboring female’s body.

Roi’s mind, engaged as it was, lay open and unguarded. In full mtensity, the female’s emotions piled in upon him.

Roi winced. In an attempt to remove the d1stractmg ammal passions, he clamped down upon the host’s brain cells, through which the rawness was funneling.

He did that too quickly, too energetically. His host’s mind flooded with a diffuse pain, and instantly almost every mind he could reach reacted to the air vibrations that resulted.

In vexation, he tried to blanket the pain and succeeded only in stimulating it further.

Through the clinging mental mist of his host’s pain, he riffled the Techs’ minds, striving to prevent contact from slipping out of focus.

His mind went icy. The best chance was almost now! He had perhaps twenty minutes. There would be other chanc s afterward, but ot s good. Yet he dared not attempt to direct the actions of another while his host’s mind was in such complete disorganization.

He retired, withdrew into mind closure, maintaining only the most tenuous connection with his host’s spinal cells, and waited.

Minutes passed, and little by little he returned to fuller liaison. He had five minutes left. He chose a subject.

7

The stewardess said, ‘I think he’s beginning to feel a little better, poor little thing.’

‘He never acted like this before,’ insisted Laura tearfully. ‘Never.’

‘He just had a little colic, I guess,’ said the stewardess.

‘Maybe he’s bundled up too much,’ suggested Mrs Ellis.

‘Maybe,’ said the stewardess. ‘It’s quite warm.’

She unwrapped the blanket and lifted the nightgown to expose a heaving abdomen, pink and bulbous. Walter was still whimpering.

The stewardess said, ‘Shall I change him for you? He’s quite wet.’

‘Would you please?’

Most of the nearer passengers had returned to their seats. The more distant ceased craning their necks.

Mr Ellis remained in the aisle with his wife. He said, ‘Say, look.’

Laura and the stewardess were too busy to pay him attention and Mrs Ellis ignored him out of sheer custom.

Mr Ellis was used to that. His remark was purely rhetorical, anyway. He bent down and tugged at the box beneath the seat.

Mrs Ellis looked down impatiently. She said, ‘Goodness, George, don’t be dragging at other people’s luggage like that. Sit down. You’re in the way.’

Mr Ellis straightened in confusion.