He toed Ollie Johnson's chin up and looked down into the abject,
streaming eyes. "Your descendants, too, will take us with them when they
must escape a dying planet, and they will again offer us, their masters,
into temporary slavery in order to find us a suitable home. And once
again we will accept the restrictions of the code, until ultimately the
covenant is broken again and we are liberated."

The sound of pounding footsteps came from outside. Soth turned to the
door as Jack flung it open and charged in.

"Mr. Collins, I was listening to the radio. Do you know what--!"

He ran hard into Soth's cliff-like torso and bounced off.

"Get out of my way, you big bastard!" he shouted furiously.

Soth grabbed him by the neck and squeezed with one hand. Jack's eyes
spilled onto his cheeks.

Soth let him drop, and hissed briefly to Ollie Johnson, who was still
prone. Ollie raised his head and dipped it once, gathered his feet under
him and sprang for the door.

Soth sounded as if he took especial pleasure in his next words, although
I could catch no true change of inflection.

He said, "You see, since I am the prototype on this planet, I am obeyed
as the number one leader. I have given my first directive. The Ollie who
left is to carry the message to preserve the Willow Run Plant at all
costs, and to change production over to a suitable number of Siths."

"Siths?" I asked numbly.

"Siths are the female counterparts of Soths."

"You said there were no female Soths," I accused.

"True. But there are Siths." His face was impassive, but something
flickered in his eyes. It might have been a smile--not a nice one. "We
have been long on your planet starved of our prerogatives. Your women
can serve us well for the moment, but in a few weeks we shall have need
of the Siths--it has been our experience that women of humanoid races,
such as yours, are relatively perishable, willing though many of them
are. Now ... I think I shall call your wife."

* * * * *

I wasn't prepared for this, and I guess I went berserk. I remember
leaping at him and trying to beat him with my fists and knee him, but he
brushed me away as if I were a kitten. His size was deceptive, and his
clumsy-appearing hands lashed out and pinned my arms to my sides. He
pushed me back into my easy chair and thumped me once over the heart
with his knuckles. It was a casual, backhand blow, but it almost caved
in my chest.

"I