The racial disparity was great and she had provoked him, but it was not completely her fault. Besides....
Besides what? She had a beautiful body that could bear superior children—and they might be his.
He twisted away. With those thoughts, he was as bad as she was. Were they all that way, every one of them, crawling upward out of the slime toward the highest goal they could conceive of? Climbing over—no, through—everybody they could coerce, seduce or marry—onward and upward. He raised his hand, but it was against himself that his anger was turned.
"Careful of the nose," she said, pressing against him. "You've already broken it once."
He kissed her with sudden passion that even he knew was primitive.
There were no immediate results from the puppet performance and so it was repeated at intervals. After the third time, Firmon reported, coming in as Halden pored over the meager biological data he'd gathered on the unknown ancestor. Wild guesses mostly, not one real fact in all the statistics. After two hundred thousand years, there wasn't much left to work with.
Firmon slouched down. "It worked," he said. "Got three a few hours ago."
Halden looked at him; he had hoped it wouldn't work. There was satisfaction in being right, but he would rather face something less intelligent. Wariness was one thing, the shyness and slyness of an unseen animal, but intelligence was more difficult to predict.
"Where are they?" he asked.