id I turn up after my revival with Dark Kensington's
memories?"

"He says they gave you a memory pattern by a deep telepathic process,"
answered Maya after talking with Qril, "because your memory pattern as
Brute was of no value to you in meeting a new environment. It seems that
there was some blockage in the operation of your brain as Brute, because
of a slight fault in the embryonic alteration, and they corrected that
before you revived."

"But why Dark Kensington's memory pattern?" asked Dark. "It turned out
to be a valuable one for me, but I've met the real Dark Kensington since
then, and he's a much older man. Why did they choose his memory
pattern?"

Maya talked with Qril.

"He says names mean very little to them," she said then. "That's
something I learned as a child: that Martians often interchange their
names, and the names evidently refer to a state of experience and being
rather than to a specific individual. But he says that the memory
pattern they chose to give you was that of your father!"

Dark stared at her, stunned.

"Then," he said slowly, "Old Beard is my father. I should have known! I
think I felt it."

"I'm not surprised if you did," said Maya. "From what Qril tells me,
Dark, this prenatal alteration they performed on you gave you even more
extensive powers than we realized. He says that you have extraordinary
extrasensory ability, if you would only make an effort to use it."

"Oh, I do, do I?" murmured Dark thoughtfully.

He looked over at the other Martians, seated in a circle in the morning
sunshine. They were taking turns tossing some small polygons, and
evidently the objective of whatever they were doing lay in the way the
polygons fell.

Dark felt a sudden surge of power in his brain. He concentrated it, he
focused it, and one of the polygons rose slowly from the ground and
drifted into the air above the Martians' heads.

Dark could feel the strength that went out and raised the polygon, like
an invisible extension of himself. Then he felt another force seize the
polygon, and it was drawn back firmly and without hesitation to its
former place.

Dark turned his head back to look into Qril's huge eyes, and at once he
was in mental contact with the Martian.

Qril was laughing at him. There was no change of expression on Qril's
face, but in his mind was the atmosphere of high humor. Qril's thoughts
came to him without words, in no language, silently but clearly:

_You have not p