Suddenly he was yawning uncontrollably.

No, they didn't use the bedrooms for sleeping. They slept in a ground-floor room. Gording volunteered to walk him over. The fresh air cooled his damp body and cleared his head. The stars were slightly misted over. Gording pointed to a steady pink-tinged star in the north. "Corbell, you came from s.p.a.ce recently. What is that?"

"A world like a little Jupiter. It shouldn't be there, but it is."

"It grows brighter, but it does not move against the pattern of fixed stars."

"That bothered Krayhayft, too." It was was brighter, wasn't it? "Listen, I'm too tired to think." brighter, wasn't it? "Listen, I'm too tired to think."

The sleeping room was a kind of greenhouse. The sleeping surface was tall gra.s.s, living gra.s.s, already covered by bodies. Gording and Corbell found s.p.a.ce, lay down and slept.

The sun shining through gla.s.s walls woke him. Four women were still curled on the gra.s.s, isolated. The rest were gone.

He had daydreamed of nights like last night, when he was much younger. Without the bald heads, of course. So what? He was lucky they saw him as human. human. Lucky he could still see them as human, too. Their bodies hadn't changed much. Their minds had changed more; they seemed geniuses... and they seemed placid in their slavery. Lucky he could still see them as human, too. Their bodies hadn't changed much. Their minds had changed more; they seemed geniuses... and they seemed placid in their slavery.

If they hadn't freed themselves from the Boys in all those aeons, how could Corbell? Corbell remembered that there was a possible answer... which had to be tested.

A ceremony was in progress at the Boy encampment. Eight dikta males (he must have missed one yesterday) were presenting five boychildren to the tribe. Of the three cupbearers, Krayhayft who seemed to be the oldest now seemed to be in charge. The rest of the Boys watched solemnly. Three carried the remaining cat-tails around their necks.

Corbell decided against joining them; he took a place by himself and kept his mouth shut. His chance would come.

The children appeared to be five to seven years old. They were overawed and immensely proud. Of the adults, it was Gording who named each child and described him: his strength, his accomplishments, his habits good and bad. For a moment Corbell thought one of the children was being rejected, and that didn't fit his preconceptions at all. Then he realized that the boy-child's name name had been rejected. He was being given a new one. had been rejected. He was being given a new one.

The ceremony broke up suddenly. The boy-children stayed with the Boys; the men went off talking together. Krayhayft called to Corbell. "I know that walk and that look."

Corbell went over.

"The walk means you have used muscles in unaccustomed labor. I know the bright smile and red eyes, too."

Corbell grinned. "You're right."

"You had fun?"

"You'll never know."

"I never will. Some of the boy-children we take try to be the best so that they can be dikta. Do you believe that?"

"Sure. Did you?"

Krayhayft scowled. "It didn't matter. I was not best at anything. I burnt food. My spear missed the prey. I don't like to remember that long ago. I remember that I wanted to go home. What does a yearling know of the difference between living five years or six, and living forever?"

"And s.e.x?"

"What does a yearling know of s.e.x? What does a Boy know of s.e.x? He can only watch." Krayhayft grinned suddenly. "Last night was the first time I ever saw-" He beat his chest with his fists and gave an ululating yell.

"I was a little crazy."

"That seems normal."

"What happens next? How long do you stay here?"

"If some machine needs to be repaired, we stay. Otherwise we leave tomorrow. We have many tribes to meet, to tell them that we have made Sarash-Zillish ready for them."

Time was constricting for Corbel, but he dared not hurry. At the moment he had nothing at all to do. And everyone else was busy.

On the second floor the Boys had opened what might be a power generator. They ordered him away from their secrets.

In another room women wove cloth of exceptional beauty and color. "During the long night we cover ourselves," one told him. She refused to teach him how to weave. "The thread might cut off some of your fingers."

"It's that that strong?" strong?"

"What would be the point of making cloth less durable?"

He stole a loop of the thread, held it a moment, then put it back. Sure, it'd make wonderful strangling cord, but where would he hide it?

He wound up in the kitchen/dining room complex, serving food and watching the cooks. He had been a pretty good cook once, but no sane chef would try to use someone else's kitchen without exploring it first. And it was bad news. The implements and measuring spoons were unfamiliar, of course. But the basic foods and the spices were also unfamiliar. If he intended to pay his way here, he would have to learn to cook all over again.

In mid-afternoon a woman offered to relieve him at the serving counter. She took a second look and said, "You are unhappy."

"Right."

"I am Charibil. Can I help?"

He couldn't tell her all all his problems. "There's not much here I'm good for." his problems. "There's not much here I'm good for."

"Men don't have to work if they don't want to. You do have one useful talent. You can make greater the variety of traits among us."

Their gene pool was a little skimpy, yeah. Though there was variety. Charibil herself had the epicanthic fo!d and delicate features of an oriental, though she was Corbell's height. The uniformity was there too: pale skin, b.r.e.a.s.t.s wide and flat, half-bald scalp and curly black topknot, slender frame.

She jumped suddenly to her feet. "Come to the orgy room, Corbell. You need cheering up. Is it displacement from your tribe that bothers you? Or fear of the ancient dikt and her cane?"

"All of the above. Right, I need cheering up."

If he thought to be alone with Charibil, he was wrong. She called to three friends as they pa.s.sed, and one joined them; and then a small golden-haired woman invited herself into the group; and four women presently reached the bedroom complex with Corbel. Others were there: a man and a single woman who seemed to want to be alone. Charibil and the other women suddenly picked Corbell up by arms and legs, swung him wide and slung him through the air, laughing at his startled "Hey!"

The surface surged as he splashed down, surged again as they joined him. He laughed with them. For a moment, the laugh caught in his throat.

There was a mirror over the bed.

He couldn't couldn't have missed that last night... and he hadn't. The others had those mobile sculptures over them. Had the women noticed anything? Corbell pulled Charibil against him, rolled onto his back with her on top... and looked up at himself. have missed that last night... and he hadn't. The others had those mobile sculptures over them. Had the women noticed anything? Corbell pulled Charibil against him, rolled onto his back with her on top... and looked up at himself.

Long, thinning white hair sprang from a military haircut in chestnut brown, in the d.a.m.ndest hairdo Corbell had ever seen. In the face there were frown lines around the mouth and eyes. He saw a lean, well-muscled, middle-aged version of one well known to him: a certain brain-wiped State criminal.

They'd noticed his tension. They turned him over and ma.s.saged it away. The kneading of muscles gradually became eight hands caressing him... and Corbell was seduced twice, to his own amazement. He felt that he was falling in love with four women: an impossible thing for CORBELL Mark I. In post-coital sadness Corbell knew at last that Corbell was dead...

He distracted himself with questions.

"No, all nights are not like last night," Charibil told him. "The men would tire of us. Last night was special. We stayed away from this place for five short days. We like to give the Boys something to watch."

"Why?"

"Why? They rule us, and they live forever, but there is one joy they can't know!" she gloated.

You can live forever! It was on the tip of his tongue... but instead he said, "What do the men do when they're not up here? I mean, if they don't work-" It was on the tip of his tongue... but instead he said, "What do the men do when they're not up here? I mean, if they don't work-"

"They make decisions. And, let me see: Privatht is perhaps our finest cook. Gording deals with the Boys in all matters; in fact he is with them now. Charloop makes things to teach and entertain children-"

"Gording is in the Boy camp?"

"Yes, he and the Boys had some important secret to discuss. They wouldn't-"

"I've got to be there." Corbell rolled off the bed. If Gording and the cat-tails had come together, then Corbell had to be there too. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but this is more important than I can tell you." He left. Behind him he heard tinkling laughter.

III.

It was near sunset. Boys and boy-children were roasting a tremendous fish over coals. Ktollisp was telling them a tale. The children were making much of a pair of indolent furred snakes. Corbell looked for Gording's white hair.

He found Gording and Krayhayft and Skatholtz a good distance from the main group. They were spitting Boyish too fast for Corbell's understanding. He caught the word for Girls Girls, and his own word Ganymede. Ganymede. And he saw the third cat-tail curled in an orange spiral on a rock almost behind Skatholtz. And he saw the third cat-tail curled in an orange spiral on a rock almost behind Skatholtz.

They saw him. Gording said, "Good! Corbell's sources of knowledge are different from ours."

Krayhayft scoffed. "He did not even see the implications."

Skatholtz said, "Gording is right. Corbell, in one of our tales there is a line with no meaning. The tale tells of the war between Girls and Boys. The line tells that each side destroyed the other."

Corbell sat down cross-legged next to Skatholtz. "Could this have something to do with our strayed planet?"

"Yes, with the mere fleck of light that grows brighter but does not move against the background of fixed stars. Do you understand what that might mean?"

He'd been a.s.suming that that dot of light was the banded gas giant Peerssa had shown him; but that didn't have to be true. If something in the sky grew brighter without moving... grew closer, with no shift sideways?

"It's coming down our throats!"

"Well phrased," said Skatholtz.

But it was monstrously unfair that Corbell should have found eternal youth just before the end of the world! "You're guessing," he said.

"Of course. But the Girls ruled the sky," Krayhayft said. "When the Girls knew they had lost, they may have aimed your missing Ganymede on a long path to smash the world."

He couldn't let this moon thing distract him. When his chance came he had to be ready. But did it matter? What if Don Juan Don Juan had brought him home just in time to face impact with a lost moon! had brought him home just in time to face impact with a lost moon!

"Wait a minute. Why not a short path?"

Krayhayft shrugged. Skatholtz said, "Who can know the mind of a Girl? They are long dead."

"They weren't stupid. The longer the path, the more chance the moon would miss the world. It's been-" Divide by twelve. "-a hundred thousand years, after all."

"We do not know how they moved worlds. How can we know what difficulties they faced? Perhaps the long path was their only choice."

Corbell stood up. He stretched, then sat down on the smooth rock behind him: a big boulder with a cat-tail sleeping on top, well behind his head. He braced his feet against a smaller, half-buried boulder.

"I don't like it. I don't like my place in it. Any minor design change in Don Juan Don Juan and I could have been back a hundred thousand years sooner or later. What are the odds I'd get here just in time for all the excitement?" and I could have been back a hundred thousand years sooner or later. What are the odds I'd get here just in time for all the excitement?"

Gording laughed at him. "What an odd bit of luck, that I should be alive at this time!"

"And I!" Skatholtz cried.

Corbell flushed. "Could the tale have meant something else?"

"Of course. No detail is given," Skatholtz said.

"Okay. The Girls knew they'd had it. They were looking for revenge... but why in the sky? They must have lost control of the sky already. Otherwise they would have put the Earth back where it belonged, further from Jupiter, where it wouldn't get too much heat. So they couldn't couldn't have thrown a moon at Earth, long path or short path." have thrown a moon at Earth, long path or short path."

"The moon is coming anyway," said Krayhayft.

But Skatholtz said, "Let him speak."

"Did I tell you what Mirelly-Lyra told me? She-" he tripped on the Boyish phrases, then, "she left zero-time with a thousand prisoners. Some of them lived to reach this place. She says the Boys took them, but she escaped."

"You've lost the thread of thought," Krayhayft reproved him.

"No, it fits in. Look, if the Girls were that close to ruined ruined, there wasn't much they could could do. But if the Boys were keeping all the dikta in the same place, the Girls could wipe do. But if the Boys were keeping all the dikta in the same place, the Girls could wipe them them out." out."

And as he said it he knew he was right. They all saw it... and their minds were better than his. Without the dikta there would be no more Boys. Only a dwindling population of immortals dying one by one, by accident and boredom and act of G.o.d.

"Your Mirelly-Lyra escaped," said Skatholtz, "because there were too few Boys left to hunt her down. The new dikta became pampered pets, they who had been criminals in pre-history." He barked bitter laughter. "But the moon still comes. If it is a random result of the Girls' loss of control, still it could destroy us. Even a near miss-" His Boyish went into high gear... and the others joined in... faster and faster... excluding Corbell. Suddenly the Boys got to their feet and left. They had excluded Gording, too.

For an instant Gording let his fury show... and then he relaxed. And Corbell tested his footing. b.u.t.t on smooth rock, feet in front of him against rock that seemed steady... and he dared not look behind him.

"It would not do," Gording said bitterly, "for Boys to discuss such important matters with a dikt."

"What was that about?"

"They must choose, you see. If the moon strikes the world, time ends. But if the moon comes by mischance, it may still pa.s.s close by the world. Tides. Earthquakes."

"Oh. Dikta City's right on the ocean. They'll have to move you."

"Move us how? Where? They can't let us go free. We are their treasure, their source, their valued property." Gording was angry already: almost angry enough to strike out at the nearest target.

Now: "Maybe they'll just take some women, the best they can find. Mate them with the boy-children. There's no scarcity of Boys. They can wait till the stock builds up again. After all, they have to be fairly careful with their breeding, considering that their original stock was a bunch of rejects from-"

Unexpectedly soon, unexpectedly fast, Gording leapt for his throat. Corbell pushed hard against the rock, kicked himself out from under Gording's leap. He reached over his head.

Startled from sleep, the cat-tail tried to leap away. Corbell's hand closed on its tail.