or we had. And he died a couple of years back."

Tom slumped in his chair. This was pushing public relations a little
far.

"Well, I dunno," he said. "If the baby was really normal--"

"It was normal, all right. Only dead, that's all."

Tom stood up. "Okay, Sergeant Spencer. Let me think it over, and I'll
give you a buzz before the end of the week. All right?"

"Anything you say, Chief."

* * * * *

In the morning, Tom Blacker went storming into John Andrusco's plush
office.

"Now look, Mr. Andrusco. I don't mind slanting a story a little far. But
this Spencer story of yours is nothing but a hoax."

Andrusco looked hurt. "Did he tell you that? How do you like that
nerve?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, that story's as genuine as gold. We've known about the freak birth
for a long time. Cosmic rays, you know. Those men on that reconnaissance
flight really got bombarded."

Tom wasn't sure of himself. "You mean, it's true?"

"Of course it is! As a matter of fact, we've got a photograph of the
dead baby, right after it was delivered. The doctor who attended Mrs.
Spencer took it without their knowledge, as a medical curiosity. He sold
it to us several years ago. We've never used it before, because we knew
that the Spencers would just deny it. Now that Walt's willing to
cooperate ..."

"Can I see the photo?"

"Why, certainly." He opened the top drawer and handed a glossy print
across the desk. Tom looked at it, and winced.

"Scales!" he said.

"Like a fish," Andrusco said sadly. "Pretty sad, isn't it?" He looked
out of the window and sighed cavernously. "It's a menacing world up
there...."

The rest of the day was wasted. Tom Blacker's mind wasn't functioning
right.

He told Livia about it at lunch.

Livia Cord continued eating, chewing delicately on her food without
flexing a muscle or wincing an eyebrow.

* * * * *

On the Third of April, the story of Sergeant Walter Spencer's first-born
monster broke in newspapers, magazines, and telecasts across the
country. It was a five-year-old story, but it carried too much
significance for the space-minded present to be ignored.

Two days later, Sergeant Spencer, 32, and his wife, Laura, 30, were
found dead of asphyxiation in their new home in Greenwich, Connecticut.
The cause of death was listed as suicide.

Tom Blacker didn't hear the news until a day after it happened. He was
in Washington,