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*V.

But the thing that puzzled both men was why Ferenc and Racelle named the child Dahil.

Then Limila was the only woman left carrying child, Barton had lost track of the timing; he didn't know when she was due, for sure. Mark Gyril told Barton not to worry, just yet. So Barton didn't. Except that one night he got home from a stint of scouting for ores in the foot- hills to the north, and came into his and Limila's hut, and stormed out again and found Mark Gyril and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. "Where the hell were you?"

"Where-I don't know what you mean!"

"Then come and see, goddamn you!"

But when Barton dragged Gyril into the hut by the scruff of the neck and threw him halfway across, Limila said, "Barton-there is no need to be rude to Mark. I did not call for him. Why did you not, when you came and saw me, give me time to explain?"

Barton looked. Well, Limila wasn't really dying, after all, he guessed, even though it still looked like one hell of a lot of blood splashed around. And her Child was suckling peacefully enough. Barton shook bis head and helped Gyril up. "Sorry, Mark. Limila-you mind telling me what's been going on?"

**No, I do not mind. If you will prepare some herb tea for all of us, then sit to listen." Feeling as ponfused as he j,had for some time. Barton followed instructions. Then, sitting, he waited while Limila sipped tea before she said, "It was because I am not Earthani, Barton. Earthani women, to be delivered of Children, must all be opened by Mark's knife. I did not wish my body cut; I did not feel it needful to do so." Limila shrugged. "But had I said as much, there would have been argument. So I thought to speed development slightly, and do this thing in my own ' way." Wide and silver-irised, her eyes sought bis gaze.

* "Do you understand?"

For moments. Barton couldn't talk at all. This woman!

Then he said, "You're all right?" and she nodded. But:

"You mind if Mark checks you over, though, just in case?" Headshake. "Then I think I'll go unload my ore samples. Be back in a little." *

He did the routine work without thinking about it, his mind chewing on what Limila had said. Deliberately speeded .up growth of the fetus? From the beginning, Barton^^d realized there was a lot he didn't know about

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his Tilaran love. Now he wondered if he'd ever catch up to all of it. But at least she was past the birth.

Gyril, when Barton returned, didn't seem offenued at the way Barton had horsed him around, earlier. "I can't blame you. Seeing the mess, I suppose it would have scared me silly, too. Anyway, she's in absolutely fine shape, and I certainly wish I knew how she did it, so that I could use the knowledge to help other women in the same situa- tion." Gyril sighted down a forefinger, at Limila. "If Earthwomen could manage as easily with their own kind of babies as you did with this hybrid birth, they'd have a much tidier time of it." He shook his head. "I can't do any more good here. And if nobody minds, I'd like to get home and put some notes on paper before I forget the details."

"Sure." Barton was giad the Medic-chief would still shake hands with him. When Gyril had left. Barton sat down beside Limila. He stroked the head of the Child who lay against Liroila's breast. One rear-corner eye opened, blinked once, then slowly closed. In the iris. Barton had seen silver specks.

Not sure what to say. Barton began with, "You lelting this one go to the Others' nursery, or do we keep it our- selves, or what?" Another thought came. "You got any ideas what we should name it?"

"Each question in turn," Limila said. "I keep this Child, but we spend some time each day with Tiriis and the other Children, also. For there are needs, I think, that you and I cannot fulfill." She shook forward-falling hair away from her eyes.

"But here we have no 'it,* Barton; my offspring is fully of both sexes, as you know. Use which gender label you prefer, or either, at whim. But not the neuter, please."

"Sure; I see it. The language doesn't work right, but I'll try. How about the naming part, though?"

The way Limila smiled, then, puzzled Barton. "The name," she said, "is not ours to give. It is Conjuldephane, and it was during birth that Conjuldephane told me.

Gently, in my mind."

To that. Barton didn't have much to say. So he hugged them.

In a way. Barton thought, the next year (a little shorter than Earth's, but not much) went by like back home on

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the farm, and howdy, neighbor. All that; no real turmoil in the settlement.

When Conjy, the Child that Limila had borne to Dahil's tiring, was weaned from Limila's still-petite breasts, Liroila wanted to begin another baby. "All of you and me, ^Barton. To replace the one we lost on Tilara."

Barton could sympathize, but too much else kept bothering him. So he asked her if she'd mind holding off for a while yet, and she agreed. "But not of indefinite extent. Barton." And he agreed. But to keep his various worries separate in time, would take luck.

Being no farmer, having the exact opposite of a "green thumb," Barton stayed out of agriculture and did other work. For one thing, he took his aux boat to have a look at adjacent land masses. On the third one he scouted, he saw evidence of intelligent life.

Such as villages. And when he got back, the villagers were there ahead of him.

They looked mostly like the Others, but not quite.

Distribution of fur was different, and so were gen- eral bodily proportions. But it was a cinch that the Endatheliners were related to the Others in much the same way that Tilari related to Earthani. And the natives here picked up language as well as the Others had done.

Barton went to Ferenc Szabo^and said what he thought.

t Almost.

The way it worked was that the first-bom of the Children had hung around Barton quite a bit, and Barton liked the kid and felt that maybe here was the way Barton might find out how to play this hand he'd never asked to ,^ be dealt

*"' ^ He addressed the Child by name. "Chiyonou," Barton Raid, "I think we got a problem, here. Any good ideas, how we cope?"

Barton couldn't interpret the movements of multiple "..eyes and extra shoulders. But Chiyonou made a whis- ^tling tweetle-sound, and then said, "You know. Barton.

Time that all were told."

,. So that evening a full gathering was called. Tiriis told f^art of the story, confirming Barton's hunch that the pthers carried a certain ability for racial memory, and 'Chiyoni.&did the rest.

As BaASo listened, he couldn't be sure who said which

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parts. None of it surprised him totally, though; he'd figured some pieces out a long time ago. So Barton sat, and he listened. And wondered if things had any chance of work- ing out the way they must have been planned to work, so long ago that he found difficulty in trying to imagine the time gap.

A very long time ago, there was the Great Race. From *wherever it came, it grew to inhabit nearly a third of this galaxy. It could have expanded farther, but other races were there, and the Great Race respected other people's rights. Instead, it sent its excess to seed other galaxies.

The Great Race fought no wars. It didn't have to; its powers were that mighty. Some of its achievements are literally beyond our power to comprehend, let alone du- plicate. Combining logic, intuition, and mental forces, the Great Race not only controlled most physical aspects of ifs universe, but also strongly influenced the structure of probability, and time-flow itself to some extent.

If there were no gods, the Great Race made a fair substitute.

That's why the next part was so hard to understand or believe. TO such beings, what could possibly be a serious menace? But some threat came, so dreadful that even the Great Race could only seek to hide. To hide so thor- oughly, so completely, that it could never be found. And being the Great Race, it found a way.

How do you find what does not exist? It was that simple.

The Great Race vanished. Where it had been, lesser races appeared. Up-Arm, humans and Tilarans and the like. Down-Arm, the Others and those like them. All sprinkled among star systems holding existent species that are superficially similar but not at all related-Blame's Mistakes, the Larka-Te, the Filjari.

And between the two groups of seeded species, the dead belt.