As Jerry's control of his host grew tenuous, he could feel the baby's mind taking over once again. Feeble pulsations reached him—nothing like solid thought, but mere urgencies about comfort, food and affection.
Jerry waited, in the background of the unformed mind, for something to happen. Then, suddenly, there was a shifting, something like a metal earthquake. A cold hard light of awareness focused on him, where he'd thought he was safely hidden in the background.
"Who are you?" asked the awareness.
It is not in so many words, of course. A mind speaks to another mind in incredibly swift shorthand. The actual thought-impulse that came to Jerry was a thick wave of curiosity, its stress laid upon identity.
"I am a Learner," Jerry's thought replied. It was a self-sufficient response, since Jerry's concept of all that a Learner was was incorporated in the thought.
"I see," said the alien. "You have memories of antagonism which are now gone from your intent. Explain."
"I came to find a menace. I found a helpless child."
"I see," came the cold, thoughtful reply. "Yes, that is how I sensed it."
"Is your mother around?" asked Jerry. "Or father?"
"Dead," said the awareness. "I am alone."