The last of the teleportation beacons was due to be planted in the middle of the largest continent in the Western Hemisphere, in a place called Oklahoma by the natives. Eubulon thought the name sounded pretty, but he wouldn't have time for sightseeing.

"Get in and get out," General Xaviax had told him. "Report back to me when it's done. I'm counting on you, Eubulon."

"Yes, General," he had replied, giving the straight-armed salute that was the hallmark of the Northern Army.

It wasn't that difficult to blend in with the native population. He could change his appearance to look like anything he wanted, and to simulate the natives—with their smooth pink skin, tiny eyes, and fleshy ears—was no trouble at all. He couldn't understand why he was now having such a hard time breathing. Contaminants in the air, or the water? No, they would have detected those.

When he returned to base, he would have to run a complete medical examination to . . . to . . . it was actually paining him to breathe now. And his body felt too warm, although the air temperature was rather cool.

It would have to wait until he planted the beacon. Eubulon found the site and set up the equipment without any trouble, although when he stood up, he felt so dizzy that he had to sit down again. What was wrong with him?

He needed to return to the drop point and signal for help. Once he was back at the . . .

He couldn't stand up. There was simply no strength left in his limbs. All he could do was lie there, on the ground, and hope that someone found him before he died.

"Jerry," Helene Duval said, pointing out the car window, "what's that behind the barn?"

"I don't know," her husband said. He stopped the car, shut the engine off, and clambered out to take a look.

"It's a man!" said six-year-old Len. "Is he dead?"

"Hush, boy." Jerry leaned down to examine the stranger. No visible wounds . . . but the heat coming off him indicated a serious infection. "Helene, get the guest bedroom ready, and call the doctor. This man's very sick, very sick indeed."

"What is it, Jerry?" she asked.

"I won't know till I get him into the house. From the way he's wheezing, though, it sounds like it could be pneumonia."

"Are we safe?"

"I'm not sure. Len, you get inside and help your mother."

"Yes, sir," the boy said, and followed Helene inside the house.

Jerry hated to have to move the fellow, but it wasn't doing him any good lying outside on the cold ground. He went to lift the man up, and found that he was heavier than he looked.

The stranger's eyelids fluttered, and he stared at Jerry groggily. "Who . . . what . . ." he gasped.

"It's all right, mister. Don't try to talk. Can you walk? Just nod or shake your head."

The man nodded slowly.

"Good. I'll give you a hand. My name's Jerry."

"Eu . . . bulon."

"Okay, Mr. Eubulon, let's get you into the house and into bed. My wife's called the doctor to come look at you. Don't you worry about a thing. You're going to be just fine."

With Jerry's help, Eubulon was able to get to his feet and walk the twenty feet or so into the house. The guest bedroom was just off the kitchen, and Helene had turned the sheets down. Eubulon looked at the bed as if he had never seen one before.

"Do you need help?" Jerry asked.

"Help?"

"Just . . . lie down there. Don't worry, it's very comfortable."

"This is . . . a sleeping place?"

"Of course. Why, don't they have them where you come from?"

"Not . . . like this."

Jerry thought he understood. "Oh, I get it! My brother-in-law was stationed in Japan when he was in the Army, and he said they sleep on mats on the floor. Is that where you're from? Japan?"

Eubulon was unable to answer for several minutes, due to a lengthy coughing fit.

When he was able to breathe again, he said, "No . . . not exactly."

"Well, we can talk about it later. I'll let you rest until the doctor gets here. Just call me if you need anything." Jerry left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

Eubulon closed his eyes and wondered if he had been missed yet. How long had he been here? A few hours? A day? Longer? What would happen when Xaviax sent someone to find him? Or would he even bother?

He became aware of a presence near him and opened his eyes. The boy was standing by his bedside, looking down at him.

"Are you gonna die?"

"I hope not," Eubulon whispered.

"Why were you taking a nap on the ground?"

"I was . . . tired. I couldn't get up."

"Where are you from?"

"Very far away from here."

"Farther than China?"

"Yes."

"Farther than the moon?"

He was about to answer when Jerry came back into the room. "Len, don't bother the man!"

"Sorry." The boy lowered his head in shame.

"He was no bother," Eubulon protested, but Jerry either didn't hear or chose to ignore him.

"Go see if your mother needs your help with anything."

"Yes, sir." The boy gave Eubulon a little wave as he left the room.

"You shouldn't punish him for his curiosity," Eubulon whispered. "Your son asks interesting questions."

"He's not our son," Jerry admitted. "He's our foster son. His parents died when he was only a few months old, and he's been in several homes before he came to us."

"Did no one want him?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell us. He's a good boy, though. Does what he's told, and all. He doesn't usually take to strangers right away, though. I wonder why he came to you."

"I . . . I don't know."

Helene poked her head in the door at that moment. "Jerry, Bill's here."

"Thanks, dear. Bill Harper is our family doctor, and an old friend of mine. We go all the way back to grammar school together, believe it or not. Give me a few minutes to fill him in on the situation and I'll send him right in."

Eubulon wondered what he was in for. Given the relatively primitive state of this world, would he be faced with a medicine man shaking bones and chanting over him?

No, that was ridiculous. Jerry trusted him; Eubulon decided that he would, as well.

"What have we got here, Jerry?" Bill asked as he took off his coat and hung it on the rack.

"I found him out by our barn, just laying there in the dirt. He hasn't told me much of anything yet, but I gather he's not from around here. He's in pretty bad shape, so I didn't want to make him talk too much just yet."

"That's fine. Helene, my bag, please."

Helene handed him his black bag and showed him into the room. Jerry watched Len, sitting on the floor playing with his trucks but every now and then looking toward the guest room like he was expecting something.

"You like Mr. Eubulon, don't you?" Jerry asked the boy.

He looked up in confusion. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it's just that you usually stay away from strangers. You ran away from the milk man."

"I guess I just didn't know him yet."

"So why are you so eager to get close to a man we don't even know who he is or where he comes from?"

"He's from real far away," Len said. "Farther than the moon. He's not like us at all, not on the inside."

Jerry stared at him in shock. "Now how do you know that?"

"I just do." The boy went back to his trucks, driving back and forth across the living room floor, and Jerry didn't know what to make of this strange conversation.

For that matter, he and Helene knew very little about this small stranger in their house-who his folks had been, where they had come from. One thing was for sure: this little boy was not like other folks. He was special.

Bill came out of the guest room after about twenty minutes or so, with a strange expression on his face. He drew Jerry aside and asked him, "You have any idea where this man is from? Any idea at all?"

Jerry shook his head. "I thought maybe Japan. He looks Japanese, a bit."

"He's not Japanese, my friend. This man is not human."

Jerry stared at him in shock. "What?"

"His heart is where his spleen should be. Took me forever to find it. And his lungs aren't in the right place, either. I don't know what-all he's got inside him, but it's not what's inside you and me. I think you'd better have a long talk with Mister Eubulon, as soon as he's up to it, about where he comes from and what he was doing out behind your barn."

"What are you saying, Bill?" Jerry whispered. "You saying he's some sort of . . . space man, or something?" He thought suddenly of Len's comment that Eubulon was from "farther than the moon", and shuddered. This six-year-old boy might be smarter than any of them.

And yet, the boy wasn't afraid. Eubulon hadn't done anything the least bit threatening or dangerous since he'd been there. Granted, he wasn't in any shape to do much of anything just yet, but Jerry somehow instinctively knew that if this man meant his family harm, he would have shown it somehow.

"You were right about one thing: he's got a world-class case of pneumonia," Bill said. "I'll leave some prescriptions. Lord knows if they'll work on him, but they're the best I have. If he gets worse, or has any sort of reaction or anything, you call me."

"I will," Jerry said.

"Jerry, we've been friends for thirty years. I know you always think the best of people . . . but he isn't people. Just watch yourself, that's all I'm saying."

"Well, thanks for the warning," Jerry said. "Helene, would you mind bringing Bill his coat and hat?"

"Certainly," Helene said, and did just that.

Len was sitting at the piano, running his hands over the keys in the noisy way that young children call "playing" the piano. "Len!" Jerry called to him. "Not now, son. Come say goodbye to Dr. Harper."

The boy slid off the stool and came over. "Is Mr. Eubulon gonna be all right?"

"Well, sure, he will," Bill said, reaching down to ruffle the boy's dark hair, so different from Jerry's wiry red curls or Helene's soft blonde waves. "He'll be right as rain in no time."

"He's not from around here, you know."

"Oh? How do you know that?"

"Can't you tell? He's from out there somewhere. Past the moon, and the stars. So far we can't even see it from here."

"Yes, well, heh heh," Bill chuckled. "What an imagination, huh? You just behave yourself, young man. Stay out of that sickroom if you know what's good for you."

"But I wanna help."

"You can help by staying out of the way and picking up your toys when you're done with them," said Helene, nudging a small wooden fire truck with her foot.

"Sorry." The boy bent down and began picking up the vehicles until his arms were full. He started to put them on the kitchen table, but Helene said, "Put them in your room! And then you can help me set the table."

"Okay," the boy said, and got up to follow her.

The next few days went very quickly. Eubulon spent most of them asleep or taking medicine, which did seem to be working all right on him. He wondered why these people cared so much about him, and if they would still be as eager to help him if they knew what he had planted in their barn, and what it would be used for.

Despite Jerry and Helene's best efforts, Len was in the room every chance he got. One or the other of them would come in and find him sitting there, just holding the man's hand, or talking to him. No matter how many times they shooed him out, he always came back. Helene was worried he would get sick himself, but so far he seemed to be okay.

Then the day came when Eubulon was able to sit up by himself, and take nourishment without help. It was then that Jerry decided the time had come for a long-overdue talk.

"So," he said, "you're from pretty far away."

"Yes."

"You want to tell me where?"

"The name would be meaningless to you."

"Look, you're not in any trouble, are you? Is someone after you?"

"No!" Eubulon's eyes went wide. He hadn't realized that just by being here, he could have put these people in danger.

"We're not gonna hurt you or turn you in or anything. I just want some answers. i want to know what you were doing out behind my barn, and how you got there."

Eubulon decided to tell him a highly edited version of the truth. "I come from a planet called Karsh, very far away from here."

"How'd you get here?"

"We have mastered the art of instantaneous travel."

"What?"

"We can send ourselves anywhere in the universe we need to go, in an instant. I was sent here to . . . to deliver something."

"What? To where?"

He couldn't tell him. If he told Jerry about the beacon, the man would go out to the barn and destroy it, and then Xaviax would come to see why it had stopped working. And that was something that Eubulon wanted to avoid at all costs.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Okay. So you delivered this gizmo or whatever it was, and then what?"

"I was on my way back to the contact point when I became unable to breathe properly. And then I could no longer hold myself up. I lay on the ground, and I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, you were there with me."

"You have friends waiting for you somewhere?" Jerry asked.

Eubulon didn't know how to answer that. "I was expected to report in," he said. "How long have I been here?"

"It's going on three days now."

"Maybe he's given up on me. In which case, I am alone here."

The look on the alien's face was enough to melt Jerry's heart. "You're not alone," he said. "If you need to, you can stay with us until your friend comes for you."

"Thank you. I owe you more than I could ever repay."

"I need you to answer honestly," Jerry said. "Do your people intend to harm this planet?"

Eubulon thought about his answer carefully before he spoke. "I can honestly tell you," he said, "that we will not harm your people."

But, he wondered, was that the truth? Wouldn't removing them from their natural environment and forcing them to work to rebuild Karsh constitute harm to them? That was a question for the philosophers. Eubulon was a soldier and a scientist, and matters of right and wrong had never come into it.

Until now.

"You don't have some type of space rays aimed at the Earth, do you?" Jerry asked.

Another difficult answer. "We do not intend to destroy you."

"And you're not a scout for an invasion force or anything?"

"No." The closest he had come to an outright lie.

Jerry looked at him skeptically. "Well, all right, if you say so. I'll let you rest up now. We'll talk more about this later."

Eubulon nodded and lay back into the freshly ironed sheets. He hadn't expected to sleep right away, but when he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. There was no clock in the room, but he could tell by the passing traffic that it wasn't that late at night.

And then he noticed the boy sitting in the chair beside him. "Hello, Len."

"Hi," the boy said in a low voice. "Sorry I bothered you. I'm not supposed to do that."

"You weren't bothering me. I like having you here with me." He reached up and turned the bedside lamp on. It was strange, having to pull a little chain, instead of either pressing a touch pad or using voice control. Clearly this world's technology was several decades, at least, behind his own.

Was that a bad thing? Did that make them mindless savages who were no good for anything but manual labor? Of course not. There were some things that transcended science and technology: family, love, doing the right thing. These were good people. It wouldn't be right to use them as slave labor against their will, just because they were there.

"What are you thinking about?" Len asked him.

"Can you tell?"

"Something sad. Are you thinking of your family? Do you miss them?"

He sat up, settling the pillow against the headboard and propping himself against it. "My family . . . died, long ago."

The boy nodded. "Mine, too. My real parents, that is. I don't even remember them."

"Why do you want to know so much about where I come from?" He wondered if perhaps Jerry had sent the boy in to gather information that couldn't be asked directly.

Len shrugged. "I like you. You're nice, for a space man."

"And how many space men have you met?"

"So far? Just you."

"Then how do you know how nice space men are, if you've never met any?"

"I don't know. I read stories."

"What kind of stories?"

"The one about a trip to the moon. And the Mars books. Have you been to Mars?"

"We passed it, on the way."

"Are there really people there?"

"I don't know. Maybe someday, your people will build space ships and go to Mars, and find out." That was unlikely to happen in this little boy's life time, but stranger things had happened.

"What about the Moon?"

"I saw the Moon. Pictures of it, anyway. It's pretty dry. No people living there."

"Aw, shucks."

He smiled at the boy's obvious disappointment. "Someday, there might be. Your people might go to the moon, too."

"That'd be super neato!"

"Super . . . neato?" What a strange expression. "Is that good?"

"Yeah, really really good! Don't you know anything? You speak our language. Or are you using a translator?"

"I learned your language by monitoring your transmissions. Your radio," he explained. "Most of it was pretty academic. I didn't learn any of the popular expressions yet."

"Stick around. You will."

"Lord, boy, there's no keeping you out of here, is there?" Helene appeared in the doorway, looking annoyed. "I've told you a thousand times to stay out of here and not bother Mr. Eubulon!"

"He said it was okay!"

"Well, I'm saying no! You have chores to do. Let's go!"

Len looked sadly at his new friend. "Sorry."

"You should do what your mother tells you. I'll be fine."

"Okay." The boy left the room. Before Helene could follow, Eubulon said, "Don't be too hard on the boy. He wants to help."

"I know he does, but he's too little."

"Not to sit and talk. He asks all the right questions. How does he know just what to ask me?"

"I have no idea! I've told him not to ask people personal questions like that, but you know how kids are. Tell them not to do something, and it's the first thing they want to do. You have any kids of your own?"

"No," he said, wondering how the word for a juvenile goat came to be applied to a human child. "No, I don't."

"You get on well with him, though."

"He is an . . . interesting personality."

"Yep, that's one way of looking at it. Supper will be ready soon. You feel up to joining us at the table?"

He thought about it. "Not yet. Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay, then. I'll bring you a tray. Be about fifteen, twenty minutes."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." Although the expression on her face suggested it was anything but. Eubulon hoped he wasn't being a burden on these people. Helene was willing to help, but there was a suggestion that there was only so far she would go, and then he was on his own.

He was feeling stronger every day, but it would still be some time before he would be able to leave this place under his own power. Where he would go from there was still anyone's guess.