that. And how would we resurrect Lust?"

"Not by importing Valdorans," Bee answered.

"Nor Velugians," someone thought.

"Nor any of the others," Peak summed up for them. "So—...."

The scientist Lern thought, "Is this the only planet in the galaxy? Why confine our thinking?"

"Not that bloody Mars," Peak thought. "I'll veto that, every time."

"Earth?" Bee suggested. "What's wrong with Earth?"

Ha thought, "It would take too long to answer that one. From what I've heard of it, they're less ardent than arduous. How many lovers have they developed? Major league lovers, that is."

Bee protested, "One could be developed. The material's there, and the planet's attainable. I say let's project one of us in some innocent guise, some animal who talks the language."

"But who'd volunteer?" Lern wanted to know.

"No volunteers," Peak decided. "Ha will go, to improve his education. What he doesn't know about Earth needs knowing."

Lern thought, "How can we keep him minor, if we resurrect him? This Lust has a terrible appetite."

"That," answered Peak, "will be your job. You'll have to think of something that will keep his weight and power constant."

Ha was doing no outer-thinking; Ha was inner-thinking about Earth, and bodies.

Ted Truesdale was sitting on the back porch, supposedly enjoying the sun. He was, in reality, enjoying the view. The blonde who'd bought the house directly behind them, and considerably below them, was out on her patio.

She was enjoying the sun. She wore a skimpy halter and a pair of shorts that were. She was well oiled and lying on her stomach. The tan of her shoulders and along the back of her legs was a fine wheat brown and she was due to turn over.

Ted was not lascivious, though Ann Truesdale had frequently stated he almost was. Ted, to put it honestly, was thirty-nine and worrying about the 

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