sently it padded out of the room, edging past
the Captain. It went down the hall, deep in meditation.

* * * * *

The room was quiet.

"So you see," the wub said, "we have a common myth. Your mind contains
many familiar myth symbols. Ishtar, Odysseus--"

Peterson sat silently, staring at the floor. He shifted in his chair.

"Go on," he said. "Please go on."

"I find in your Odysseus a figure common to the mythology of most
self-conscious races. As I interpret it, Odysseus wanders as an
individual, aware of himself as such. This is the idea of separation, of
separation from family and country. The process of individuation."

"But Odysseus returns to his home." Peterson looked out the port window,
at the stars, endless stars, burning intently in the empty universe.
"Finally he goes home."

"As must all creatures. The moment of separation is a temporary period,
a brief journey of the soul. It begins, it ends. The wanderer returns to
land and race...."

The door opened. The wub stopped, turning its great head.

Captain Franco came into the room, the men behind him. They hesitated at
the door.

"Are you all right?" French said.

"Do you mean me?" Peterson said, surprised. "Why me?"

Franco lowered his gun. "Come over here," he said to Peterson. "Get up
and come here."

There was silence.

"Go ahead," the wub said. "It doesn't matter."

Peterson stood up. "What for?"

"It's an order."

Peterson walked to the door. French caught his arm.

"What's going on?" Peterson wrenched loose. "What's the matter with
you?"

Captain Franco moved toward the wub. The wub looked up from where it lay
in the corner, pressed against the wall.

"It is interesting," the wub said, "that you are obsessed with the idea
of eating me. I wonder why."

"Get up," Franco said.

"If you wish." The wub rose, grunting. "Be patient. It is difficult for
me." It stood, gasping, its tongue lolling foolishly.

"Shoot it now," French said.

"For God's sake!" Peterson exclaimed. Jones turned to him quickly, his
eyes gray with fear.

"You didn't see him--like a statue, standing there, his mouth open. If
we hadn't come down, he'd still be there."

"Who? The Captain?" Peterson stared around. "But he's all right now."

They looked at the wub, standing in the middle of the room, its great
chest rising and falling.

"Come on," Franco said. "Out of the way."

The men pulled aside toward the door.

"Y