She was a robust woman now with a body designed for love-making, the wide-hipped form made to propagate the race with healthy offspring. Her dress was cut low at the neck, innocently immodest.

Andrews looked up, still brooding.

It was he who had discovered the anamorph, the second day after our landing. Where she had come from, or how she had gotten through the plastic wall without rupturing it, we never did learn. She had had this identical form when Andrews found her.

The anamorph began to dance. A slow, languid pirouetting. The sound of a wordless crooning song reached me. The tempo of her dance heightened and her wide green skirt came up around her waist, exposing fair thighs.

Andrews grunted and shifted position. Abruptly he reached out and grasped her wrist. "Come here, baby," he said hoarsely.

The anamorph kicked and squealed in mock protest as Andrews swept her off her feet and into his arms, but she made no real effort to free herself as he strode with her into his compartment.

The next morning when I stopped in with Kohnke’s breakfast I found him wearing a gold crown.

With strictly amateur knowledge, I had diagnosed his illness as schizophrenia, and this latest display seemed to confirm the diagnosis. Now he had escaped harsh reality into a world of his own, a world where he was obviously a personage of considerable eminence.

Kohnke smiled at me and greeted me condescendingly. I went along with his delusion. If I were to help him it was good that he accepted me as part of his world. I sat at his feet and made as one of the unseen audience he was addressing. I was wryly amused a few minutes later when I understood who he thought he was.

However, it was the gold crown that fascinated me. Where had he gotten it? There could be only one answer. And if what I suspected was true, there were startling implications.

I had to speak again soon with the anamorph…​.

She did not keep me waiting.

I returned to my compartment. The pseudo-Lois entered soon after and stretched out indolently on my cot. "You wanted to see me, Bill?"

Incongruously I found myself staring at her low-heeled shoes, the ones she always wore when we danced at the Prom. I restrained the impulse to take her in my arms. "I saw the crown you made for Kohnke," I said carefully, making a special effort to keep my inner thoughts hidden. "It’s beautiful."

"Thank you."

Those simple words meant much to me. I had succeeded in getting her to admit that she had made the crown.

Which meant we still had a chance!

"Then you’ll be able to make the fuel we need," I said casually.

Her expression became wary, shifting instantly to petulance. She reached over and put one hand on my arm. "Why do you want to leave me, Bill?"

I tried to explain, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t understand.

I tried another tack. "Why are you afraid of Kohnke?" I asked. My theory was that she did not understand insanity, and so her inability to follow the illogical thought processes of the demented man frightened her.

"He is so intelligent," she startled me by saying.

"He’s crazy," I protested.