say there was a war?)

Forential knows. He said to kill her.

Julia, studying him with faint amusement, said "Have you looked at your
brain? I have a picture of a human brain here. I want to show you how
alike they are."

"Lyrians have a superficial resemblance to earthlings."

"Look at this. Very similar. The same, almost."

Walt shifted uneasily. Her eyes did not move from his face. What was she
getting at?

"I wonder," she said, "why we ... Lyrians ... have had certain powers
given to us just recently? Why, before, we were no different than
earthlings?"

Walt frowned. He didn't want to think about it. He had a job to do.

"There's a--call it--a bridge in our minds. It's just recently been
closed."

(It was ten minutes before the larger transmitter was to be turned off
for twelve hours.)

Walt decided on the pitcher. The answer to her question was suddenly
obvious. "That means we're ready to invade."

She watched him very closely. Her fingers tapped her knee. "... you said
you were on a ship?"

It's almost time to kill her, he thought. I'm sorry, he wanted to say:
but I really must. "Yes. A space station."

"How many of you are there?"

"Twenty-seven; twenty-eight, counting me."

"That's not many. Not enough." She bent forward. "You said you saw a
Lyrian female on the ship. I think there's another group of Lyrians on
the ship. I think they're going to invade first. That's the war your
group is supposed to come in on the end of. You're going to be used as a
clean-up group."

"Forential would have told us," Walt said.

"The question is: _Why didn't he tell you?_"

Walt realized how terribly sly and dangerous she was. She was too smart
to be harmless. Suppose she should warn--but who could she warn?
Earthlings? Could they get their atom bombs ready?

He felt his skin prickle. _Look behind you!_ he thought to her. It had
worked with the officer; it worked with her.

She turned.

Savagely, he grasped the pitcher with the mental fingers of
teleportation. He hurled it as hard as he could at the back of her head.

* * * * *

Julia was ready for the blow. She had the molecules of the pitcher
displaced before it was half way to her. It passed through her body
easily and smashed against the far wall.

She turned quickly enough to avoid Walt's rush.

On her feet now, she wavered into partial displacement.

Snarling harshly, he advanced on her.

(There was less t