I think, dangerous. We cannot risk associating with a race that cannot control themselves. You have developed too fast—too soon. We are an old race and a slow race, and our warlike days are far behind us. The council was right. Something must be done about you or there will be more of your kind on Lyrane—hard, driving, uncontrolled, violent." He sighed—a very human sigh—half regret, half resignation.

"And you promised no harm would come to us if we came with you," I thought bitterly.

"I said you would come to no harm, nor will you. You'll just be changed a little."

"Like Alex?"

"Yes."

"What did you do to him?"

He grinned, exposing his long tusks. "You'll find out," he said. He sounded just like a villain in a cheap melodrama.

He took the menticom circlet off my head and all communication stopped. Two other Lyranians stepped through the wall, lifted me and carried me out like a shanghaied drunk from a spaceport bar. I wasn't particularly surprised at the laboratory that lay behind the wall. After all, an observation cage had to have its laboratory facilities.

These were good—very good indeed. Even though I knew hardly anything about biological laboratories, there was no doubt that here were the products of an advanced technology. I hated to admit it, but it looked as though we had run into what we had always feared but had never found—a civilization superior to ours. From the windowless appearance of the place, it was probably underground, and K'wan's look and nod seemed to confirm my guess.

They laid me out on a table, took blood and tissue samples and proceeded to forget me while they ran tests and analyses. I kept trying to move, but it wasn't any use.

A group of about a dozen oldsters came in, looked at me and went away. The council, I guessed.

In a surprisingly short time K'wan came back, distinguishable by the menticom circlet. He was holding something that looked like a jet hypo in his hand. The barrel was full of a cloudy red liquid that swirled sluggishly behind the confining glass.

"This won't hurt," he said, his thoughts amplified by the circlet.

He lifted my arm, examined it and nodded. There was a high-pitched, sibilant hiss as he touched the trigger of the syringe and I felt a brief 

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