torment, why didn't you rush and open the door and tell Mr. Archer?
"Well, Sara?" To her roaring ears, came Dr. Smith's soothing voice. "You see, you do not want to leave after all. Come here, my dear."
He moved around his desk and stood leaning back against its edge. He held out his hands and in a state of numbness she placed her own into his ready clasp.
"Why have you come here? What do you hope to gain? And," her voice had drained away to a whisper, "what do you want with me?"
"One question at a time," he said gently. He released her fingers. "Sit down, Sara."
Moving backward one step, then another hesitant stumbling step, she felt the chair hit the inside of her knees and she sat down abruptly before she fell. Her hands were damp with perspiration and involuntarily she rubbed the palms on her skirt.
"How many of you are in this country?" she jerked out the question as his long look of appraisal continued.
"About two thousand of us. But we also have three thousand recruits doing our work," he made a graceful gesture. "Such as the four patients with whom I," he cleared his throat delicately, "was able to make contact recently through surgery."
The thunder of her heart had to crack her body wide open, she thought.
"What are you?" she cried. "You're not human!"
His smile was still gentle. "We are human plus, Sara. Our forms are human. Our ways of nourishment and reproduction are human, but we have added abilities. For instance we can contract our bodies so as to enter a crack in a wall no more than a hairs-breadth. Also we have the means within us of exuding through our pores a protective glaze against die sun when in our flight to and from the home planet we feel the sun's fire."
She dropped her face into her hands. "You're not human," she moaned.
She lifted her head and looked into his steady eyes.
"You use planes?" she said in a whisper. "Where do you hide them? Do you come into our own airports?"
His smile was tolerant. "Machinery has no place in our lives, Sara. Each of us can fly. Excepting those of course who choose never to leave home. These are not fitted with the Daedalus equipment."
"Daedalus!" the name burst from her, her mind rioting. "He was a myth! You are a myth. You don't exist . . . or I do not."
"Daedalus was not a myth, my dear. He was far ahead of his own civilization but we, upon our planet, existed long before his time. When the news reached us
