Now, suddenly, the compartment seemed a prison, a trap. When she looked over at the sleeping mat, she imagined mating there with Jonathan Yeager. All she had left now were imagination and memory. The wild Big Ugly was gone. He wouldn’t come back soon, if he ever came back at all.

“What am I going to do?” Kassquit whispered.

She knew what would have been expected of a female of the Race: to return to the way she had been, as if nothing had happened. When males and females of the Race weren’t in season, sexuality meant nothing to them. They would assume it meant nothing to her, either. She wished it didn’t. Part of her wished it didn’t, anyhow. The rest longed for it.

“What am I going to do?” she said again.

Not for the first time, she wished the Deutsche had chosen some other moment to launch their attack on the Race. Her reason for that wish, though, was undoubtedly unique. Had Jonathan Yeager not been forced to stay in the starship so long, she wouldn’t have developed this emotional attachment to him. Her life would have been simpler, in a sense purer.

But now you understand more of what being a Tosevite is truly like, she thought. Now you know you are not merely a poor copy of a female of the Race. Half of her was glad to have the knowledge. The other half would as gladly have done without it.

She sighed. She would never make a proper female of the Race. And she would never make a proper Big Ugly, either. What did that leave her? I wonder if I could become a proper Rabotev or Hallessi. She laughed at her own foolishness. Why not? No one else would have found it funny.

But laughter soon faded. What would she do now that she was by herself again? The question wouldn’t go away. No answer suggested itself, either.

Someone outside asked for attention; the speaker by the door hissed again. “Who is it?” Kassquit asked.

“I: Ttomalss. May I come in?”

“Yes, superior sir.” Kassquit opened the door for him, as she had for the shuttlecraft pilot. She bent into the posture of respect. “I greet you, superior sir.”

“And I greet you, Kassquit,” the psychological researcher said. “I came in to inquire about your feelings now that the wild Big Ugly named Jonathan Yeager is returning to the surface of Tosev 3.”

“Yes, I thought you might.” Kassquit didn’t realize how sarcastic she sounded till the words were out of her mouth.

Ttomalss let out a wounded hiss. “Your well-being is a matter of considerable concern to me, you know, not only for personal reasons but also because of what I am trying to learn about successfully integrating the Race’s cultural patterns with the limits imposed by Tosevite biology.”

Yes, I understand that, superior sir, and I apologize,” Kassquit said, on the whole sincerely. “How do I feel?” She took a deep breath. “Confused may well be the best word. Too much has happened to me emotionally, and it has happened too fast, for me to be at all certain what it means. Bereft is another word that comes to mind.”

“It was so important, then, for you to have this contact with one who was like you biologically even if so different culturally?” Ttomalss asked.

“Superior sir, at the moment I feel it was,” Kassquit said. “How I will feel in several days’ time, or in a year’s, I cannot tell you at present, but for now I feel I have been deprived of something I never knew I needed.”

Ttomalss sighed. “I feared that might be so when we began this experiment. I especially feared it might be so when Jonathan Yeager stayed longer than anticipated, solidifying your sexual and emotional bonds with him. I do take some consolation in noting that Tosevite emotions, while generally stronger than those of the Race, are also generally more transient.”

That was meant to console Kassquit, too, and should have. Instead, it somehow made her furious. “So you think my emotions will go away just because I am a Big Ugly, do you?” she shouted. “I think you had better go away, superior sir!” She turned the honorific into a curse, and used an emphatic cough afterwards. When she took a step toward the psychological researcher, he left in a very great hurry indeed.

Jonathan Yeager descended from the shuttlecraft and let his feet thump down on the concrete runway at Los Angeles International Airport. The breeze smelled of the nearby ocean. It played on him at random, not with the gentle regularity of the starship’s ventilation system. After so long, random breezes felt strange, unnatural. He laughed. Random breezes were anything but.

His teeth started to chatter. After so long aboard the Lizards’ starship, the breeze that swept across the airport also felt damn cold. Because of the sea breeze, the airport was one of the coolest spots in the L.A. basin. Jonathan knew that. He’d never known it to be so downright arctic, though.

He moved away from the shuttlecraft as trucks came up to refill its hydrogen and oxygen tanks. A car came up, too, a familiar car. There was his father behind the wheel. They waved to each other. The car stopped. Jonathan’s dad hopped out and gave him a hug. “Good to see you, son!” he said. “Good to have you home!”

“Good to be back, Dad,” Jonathan answered. “It’d be even better if I weren’t freezing to death.” He tacked on an emphatic cough. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. Except for the odd word of English here and there, he’d spoken nothing but the language of the Race for a couple of months. Going back to his native tongue felt odd: English seemed sloppy and imprecise after the Lizards’ language.

His father laughed. “It’s a nice day, if you ask me. But you’ve been up in the bake oven for a while, so you wouldn’t think so.” He went around to the passenger side of the Buick and opened the door. “Hop in and we’ll head for home. Your mom’ll be just as glad to see you as I am. She’s riding herd on Mickey and Donald right now.”

“How are they doing?” Jonathan asked. He hadn’t been able to inquire about them while he was on the starship; as far as the Race was concerned, they didn’t exist.

“They’re growing like weeds,” his father answered. “They’re only two and a half now, but they’re already something like three-quarters as big as they will be. And talking quite a bit, too. If Lizard psychologists wore hats, they’d have to eat ’em, because they say that kind of thing just doesn’t happen.”

Jonathan slid into the car. It was warmer in there than outside. “What else has been going on while I was away?” he asked, tossing his bag onto the back seat.

His father got behind the wheel and started up the hydrogen-burning engine. “Oh, this and that,” he answered. His tone was casual. Too casual? Jonathan shot him a sharp look. The elder Yeager went on, “We can talk more about that when we get home, okay?”

“Okay.” Jonathan didn’t know what else to say. The car glided up to a security gate in the chain-link fence that kept normal traffic off the runways. His dad showed a guard his ID. The guard nodded and handed his dad a clipboard. His father signed the paper it held and gave it back. The guard opened the gate. The car left the restricted area and went out into a parking lot. Jonathan found another question. With a certain amount of apprehension, he asked, “How’s Karen doing?”

“Not… too bad,” his father answered judiciously. “She comes over once or twice a week. She likes the hatchlings, you know.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan answered. “Does she… still like me?”

“She hasn’t said much.” His father paused as he left the lot and merged into traffic. “Your mother and I haven’t asked her a whole lot of questions, you know. We figured it would be best if you took care of all that yourself.”

“Okay,” Jonathan said again, and then, after a moment, “Thanks. Uh-does she know what all I was doing up on the starship?”

“Well…” His father made another one of those judicious pauses. “Let me put it this way: I don’t think she thinks you were playing tiddlywinks up there.”

“Oh.” Jonathan thought about that. He sighed. “Has she said anything about it?”

“Not much.” His dad sounded admiring. On the farm and in the minor leagues and in the Army, keeping your mouth shut was praiseworthy. A phrase his father sometimes used when his mother couldn’t hear was, He wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful. He meant it as approval.

But what was Karen not saying? Jonathan sighed. He’d have to find out. On the other hand, Karen might not want to say anything to him ever again. But if she didn’t, would she keep coming around to see Mickey and Donald? She might, dammit, he thought. She was wild to learn anything she could about Lizards. A lot of kids-maybe even most-her age and Jonathan’s were the same way.

Getting from the airport to Jonathan’s house took about half an hour. Up in the starship, he would have gone around a significant fraction of the Earth’s circumference in that time. His dad pulled into the driveway. When they got out, Jonathan noticed something he hadn’t before. He pointed to his father’s hip. “Are you wearing that pistol all the time now, Dad?”

“Every waking minute,” his father answered, dropping his right hand to the holstered.45. “And it’s always where I can grab it fast when I’m sleeping, too.”

“Are things really that bad?” Jonathan knew about the attacks on his father and the house, of course. But none of them had come to anything, so he had trouble taking them seriously.

“No.” His father’s voice belied the word. After a moment, the elder Yeager added, “They’re worse.”

Before Jonathan could respond to that, the front door opened and his mother hurried out to say hello. Between embraces and kisses, he stopped worrying about the pistol for a while. “I’m so glad to see you,” his mom said over and over. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

She didn’t know how close that German had come to blowing the starship out of the sky. He didn’t intend to tell her, either. All he said was, “It’s great to be back.” He wondered if he meant it. Next to where he’d been, the stucco house looked like a primitive makeshift.

“I bet you’ll be glad to sleep in your own bed again,” his mother said. “From what your father tells me, a Lizard sleeping mat isn’t what you’d call comfortable.”

“My own bed sounds great, Mom.” Jonathan didn’t have to work too hard to sound enthusiastic. The sleeping mat hadn’t been all that great. But he’d be sleeping alone in his room. He’d had company, friendly company, up on the starship. His eyes slid to his father. By the way his dad was holding his mouth a little too tightly, he knew what Jonathan was thinking.