his hands.

"There'll be a thousand or so left, Calvin," Forential promised. "You must practice very diligently to be able to cope with them."

Calvin sniffed and shook his head. "I can kill that many in a minute. You stop the war, Forential, please."

"Think of it this way," Forential said. "The less work there is to do, the sooner you can return to your own planet."

"There's no earthmen to kill on Lyria," Calvin insisted stubbornly. "Please stop the war."

"I'll see what I can do." The alien smiled kindly. "You have the proper spirit. You are all very good children. You hurry, now, and practice all you can."

I can see Lyria's star now, Walt thought. We'll be home in another year, then. How welcome that will be....

He had not broadcast the thought. And suddenly, as if on another channel, another frequency, he felt Calvin in his mind and his mind in Calvin's—an odd, unexpected blending of thoughts that seemingly had occurred unconsciously.

Forential describes it so it is so pretty, our planet, Calvin was thinking: Green wartle rivers whack throw the ball at him, easy now.... God, I hate those earthmen.

"I'll practice," Walt made Calvin say. He made Calvin hold the ball stationary. Then the contact between their minds was broken.

"Who did that?" Calvin demanded. "I'll hit him and break all his bones!"

Forential smiled sadly at Calvin and withdrew.

"It's nearly time," a mutant rejoiced. "God, I hate them, every one of them."

The mutants instinctively began forming their minds for the death radiation.

"They'll issue the rods shortly," Walt said.

Hatred blazed on Calvin's face. He had already forgotten about the contact a moment before. "I will kill them even without a rod."

"The radiation isn't lethal unless we have something to focus it with, remember that."

"With my hands!" Calvin cried happily. "I will kill them with my hands!"

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