They would learn what caused the murderous disease—if it was the last thing they did!...

January 18, Earth Time I wish Max would treat me like a woman . An hour ago, at dinner, John Armitage proposed a toast, especially for my benefit. He loves to play the gallant. Big man, silver mane, very blue eyes, a porcelain smile. The head of WSC, the perfect example of the politician-scientist. "To the colony," he announced, raising his glass. "May Epsilon love them and keep them. May it only be transmittal trouble." "Amen," Max said. We drank. Taylor Bishop put down his glass precisely. Bis

March 13 It was, of course, necessary for me to destroy Armitage and Bishop. They won far too often. But I am sorry about Greta. Yet I had to strangle her. If she hadn't started that infernal queen's pawn opening it would have been different. She beat me six times running, and on the last game I pulled a superb orang-outang, but it was too late. She saw mate in four and gave me that serpent smirk I know so well. How could I have ever been in love with her? March 14 Frightfully boring to be alone