_Likely. He lives among them_.

He only glanced at the vision of his world.

He had activated the Screens which showed him much of the Earth, to while away a few minutes. He shut them down because the changed map bored him. Living beside a volcano, simply because the site had once meant something, had accustomed him to the worst that the screens could show. It still meant something to him, but there was little he could do to change the landscape. Now he followed the trail of the ship and watched Morwin emerge.

Fixing a tracer on the man, he primed several weapons systems.

This is ridiculous, he decided. There must be somebody a man can trust.

He observed Morwin's progress all the way to his gate, however; and followed him with a hover-globe that could pour fiery death in an instant.

The space-armored figure halted and looked upward. Fracture lines crossed the globe. Malacar struck the recall button on his massive Weapons Console.

A white light blinked, and he turned a dial, bringing in words and static:

"I'm just here to say 'Hi,' sir. If you want me to go away, I will."

He touched Broadcast.

"No. Come on in. It's just the old precaution business."

But he tracked Morwin every step of the way, feeding the movement patterns into his battle computer. He X-rayed him, weighed him, determined his heartbeat rate, blood pressure and electroencephalographic indices. He fed this data to another computer which analyzed it and routed it back to the battle computer.

_Negative_, was the reading, as he had expected it to be.

_Shind? What do you read?_

_I would say that he is just stopping by to say "Hi," sir_.

_Okay_.

He opened the front gate of his fortress and the artist entered.

Morwin moved into the massive front hail. He seated himself upon a drifting divan.