 How did Peter get the scar on his cheek?
He had been dead for some time now, but the dark blood was still oozing from the crushed ruin of his face, trickling down into his sodden sleeve, and falling, drop by slow drop, from his fingertips. It was I who had changed: something inside me was dead, like the machinery, and like Peter. I do not think it was what Peter called an emotion; and yet it had nothing to do with logic, either. I did not even wish that Peter were not dead, for reason had told me that he had to die. Then there would remain only the task of blasting the great, shining ship out into the carefully-calculated orbit that would be its home. He could see, too, the level on level of laboratories and storerooms that filled its interlocking segments; the meteor deflectors, the air renewal system, the mighty engines at the stern—all the children of his brain. "The peoples of the world, then, know what they are, and know that we face the most momentous struggle in our history. "Since the Invaders first appeared in Wood River, Oregon, 24 hours ago, they have not once acknowledged our attempts to communicate, or in any way taken notice of our existence as reasoning beings. They have treated us precisely as we, in less enlightened days, might have treated a newly-discovered race of lower animals. Not only our individual lives are threatened, but our existence as a race. Peter sank back in his chair, the full shock of it striking him for the first time. " Peter took it in fifteen seconds, running, and stumbled to a halt in front of the door marked "Radiation." It was a street scene in the Science City of Manhattan, flooded by the warm spring sunshine. Down on the lowest level, visible past the transport and passenger tubes, the parks and moving ways should have been dotted with colorful, holiday crowds. "There will be panics and suicides, and they know it; but they have to do it. There aren't going to be any noncombatants, this time. It was impossible to say whether they had gone through the solid wall, or simply melted away. "No, Peter! Peter walked down the narrow aisle, past bakelite-sheathed mechanisms and rows of animal cages, and paused just short of it. His torso was telescoping, bit by bit; his spread legs grew wider and more shapeless, his cheeks caved in and his skull grew gradually flatter.
 From an accidental talon scratch
 From an accidental talon scratch  From traveling through the dangerous rays.  From the construction of his ship  From the Invaders attack.