CHAPTER Double Contact by James White
 
Copywrite 1999


 
CHAPTER 1
 
The late afternoon sun, its outlines shredded by ground-heat distortion and the 
continuous toxic gales that swept the planet, wavered in and out of visibility 
in the brown sky like a dull red and ragged-edged flag. When it set in a few 
hours' time there would be total darkness. The moon was too dim to be seen 
through the turbulent and nearly opaque atmosphere, and the stars had not been 
visible from the surface for close on three centuries.
The world that was Trolann raged and stormed and stank all around them as they 
paused for a moment outside the first of the series of detoxification chambers 
that gave access to their underground home, because they wanted to look at the 
familiar and abhorrent scenery for what would be the last time.
Their lifesuit sensors told of a film of insects and windblown spores that were 
trying vainly to penetrate the superfine joints in the mechanisms that provided 
ground mobility, and kept their visors clean so that they could see virtually 
nothing with more clarity.
"Not a druul in sight," said Jasam. "It's safe to go in."
He pressed the activator on the first entry seal with the suit's forward 
manipulator, then swept it around to indicate the dull, wavering sun, the 
driving, poisonous fog and the blurred outlines of the surface extensions of 
their neighbors' homes. He looked at Keet and sighed.
"We had a good life together here," he said, "and for the next few days" -he 
made an attempt to lighten their mood as he went on"this hi-tech hole in the 
ground will be a very happy home."
"Until we find a new one," said Keet, impatient as always when he stated the 
obvious. "I'm hungry and I want us out of these things."
"Me, too," said Jasam with enthusiasm; then, in a more reasonable voice he went 
on. "But there's no need to be hungry. The suit food is no worse than the stuff 
in the larder. Since our final selection it's been the best available. So go 
ahead and eat; that's as good a way as any of passing the decontamination time."
"No," said Keet firmly. "I want us to eat together, every chance we get while we 
still can, and not separately like a couple of working colleagues. Sometimes, 
Jasam, you display the romantic sensitivity of, of a druul in heat."
He did not have to answer this grossest of all personal insults because they 
both knew that she was joking, and that people only joked about that particular 
form of hellish Trolanni life in an attempt to hide their utter fear and 
loathing for it. Besides, his answer would come later in actions rather than 
words.
Neither of them made use of their built-in food supply while their suits went 
through the slow, tedious, but absolutely necessary stages of surface cleansing 
with disinfectant sprays, surface irradiation, and flash heating. Many of the 
microorganic and insect life-forms that had recently evolved on the surface, 
when given the chance to penetrate the defenses of a Trolanni household, had 
proved themselves capable of wiping out the occupants in a few minutes. But when 
they both finally emerged into the core living quarters, they were as sure as it 
was possible to be that they were free of unwanted organic company.
Jasam stood for a moment looking at Keet, or rather at the delicately contoured 
head, shapely body, and short, tapering limbs of her lifesuit, while she stared 
back at the taller, more ruggedly handsome, and well-muscled shape that he wore. 
Protective suits were invariably as well-formed and lifelike as their owners 
could afford. While still young adults, Keet and himself had progressed to a 
level of excellence in their field where they could afford the best. But the 
people inside those realistic lifesuits were much smaller, more sickly, and, 
regrettably, not nearly as beautiful as their handsome body coverings.
Outside them, however, they could touch each other without a cybernetic 
interface diluting or crudely enhancing every tactile sensation.
With intense but controlled impatience he detached himself from the suit's 
visual, aural, and tactile relays, its food and water spigots, and, even more 
cautiously, from the deeply implanted waste-elimination systems. He had 
extricated himself before she did, and watched her lovingly as she opened the 
long, abdominal seal and struggled free like an adult newborn climbing slowly 
out of its mother's womb.
Her body, as did his own, showed the areas of rash, the skin discoloration, the 
pocking and scars of past skin eruptions that were the visible inheritance of 
living in an environment that no longer supported their kind of life. But she 
looked little different from the time he had seen her like this on their first 
night of mating, and she was beautiful. When she freed herself, their beautiful 
and handsomely proportioned lifesuits were left lying lifelessly on the floor 
as they crawled eagerly towards each other.
When they had to pause for a necessary rest, they ate a meal to which Keet had 
added various decorative and olfactory touches to disguise the taste of their 
standard, aseptic, and machine-processed food. But the searchsuit project chief 
had told them that their unsuited time together would be limited to the next 
three days, and eating and resting was not what they most wanted to do together. 
They tried not to talk about the project, but there were times when their 
physical and emotional resistance was so low that the subject sneaked up on 
them.
"I'm not complaining, mind," said Keet, "but after three days of this we won't 
be at our best for the surgeons. We'll be, well, very tired."
"They won't mind that," Jasam replied reassuringly. "You weren't listening 
between the lines during our last interview. Suit-insertion surgery, especially 
into an experimental one of this complexity, will be a lengthy, unpleasant 
procedure that requires conscious, cooperative, and relaxed subjects. Don't 
worry, about it. At least we'll be in a physically relaxed condition before they 
go to work on us."
Even though they were already pressed together so tightly that such a thing was 
physically impossible, Keet tried to snuggle even closer. She said softly, "This 
is how babies are made."
"Not for us," he replied sharply, and tried without much success for a gentler 
tone as he went on. "If that had been possible, if either of us had been 
healthy enough and fertile, we would never have been allowed to volunteer, much 
less be accepted for Searchsuit Three. Instead we would have been buried more 
deeply and protected behind even more detoxification chambers than we have here, 
and given every comfort a mortal Trolanni could desire while teams of doctors 
tried to provide the medical and psychological support that might enable the 
sickly members of our poisoned species to procreate and our civilization to 
survive beyond the next few generations. The emotional feelings or otherwise of 
the couples concerned for each other would not have been the prime 
consideration. Survival would have been a necessity, an artificially-supported 
evolutionary imperative rather than a pleasure."
Once again Keet's expression was reflecting her impatience at being reminded of 
things she had not forgotten, and he was anxious not to spoil even a moment of 
their remaining touching time together.
"We would be even more debilitated than we are now," he added quickly, "but 
without having as much fun."
Even though the honor of being chosen to wear a searchsuit was greater than that 
previously accorded to any two members of their race, the pride they both felt 
was intense, so much so that there was little room in their minds for personal 
fear. But they did not speak of the project again, and neither did they look at 
the container that housed the tiny, hermetically-sealed, and triple-protected 
sphere with its short-duration life support into which they would climb when the 
project engineers signaled that they were ready for the crew insertion. The few 
hours spent in that sphere, while it was being transported under maximum 
protection from their home to the project surgery, would be the last they could 
ever spend in physical contact with each other.
The first searchsuit had been intercepted and destroyed by the druul while it 
was still in atmosphere, and the second, if it had succeeded in finding 
anything, had not returned to report. Searchsuit Three was the most advanced and 
technologically sophisticated fabrication to be produced by Trolanni science 
and, considering their planet's deteriorating environment and diminished 
resources, it would almost certainly be the last. On its success rested the 
hopes of their species.
It was a suit built for the two of them and designed to cater to their physical 
needs for a period far beyond their most optimistic projected lifetimes on 
Trolanni. In it they would be in constant communication for as long as they 
lived. But the suit was hugebigger by far, and with more complex and 
wide-ranging control and sensory systems, than either of its predecessors. So 
large was it that when they wore it, they would never in their remaining 
lifetimes be able to touch each other again. In spite of the greatly increased 
anti-druul defenses and the supporting treatments provided by the project's 
engineers and psychologists, he wondered if the dangers facing them would be 
mental rather than physical.
"At least," said Keet, as if reading her mind, "we'll be able to play with our 
dolls."
CHAPTER 2
 
The inner office of Sector General's new administrator and chief psychologist 
resembled a medieval torture chamber from the history of Earth, according to the 
memories of the current DBDG mind donor he was carrying. But the resemblance 
was not closepartly because a collection of tastefully-chosen views of 
non-terrestrial land and seascapes hung on the walls, and partly because the 
torture devices were actually weirdly shaped and deeply upholstered furniture. 
On these, the other-species staff that had business with Administrator 
Braithwaite could sit, squat, hang, or otherwise take their easeassuming that 
whatever they had been doing had not warranted the criticism of the most 
powerful being in the hospital.
On this occasion Prilicla's own conscience was clear, and as an empath he knew 
that the same condition applied to his smartly uniformed companion, Captain 
Fletcher, who was standing before the big desk beside him. The emotional 
radiation emanating from the similarly Earth-human Administrator Braithwaite, 
composed as it was of a strange combination of concern with a strong 
undercurrent of urgency, was such that Prilicla knew they would not be invited 
to make use of the office furniture. Even so, the other was for some reason 
feeling hesitant about speaking.
"Sir," said the captain, glancing at Prilicla, who was hovering close to its 
shoulder and stirring a few strands of its brown head-fur, "I was told that you 
wanted to see me urgently. I met ' Senior Physician Prilicla on the way here, 
and it had received the same message. We only work together on ambulance-ship 
rescue missions, so presumably you have another job for Rhabwar?"
Braithwaite inclined its head without speaking. Before its recent promotion to 
administrator it had been a Monitor Corps officer like Fletcher, the principal 
assistant to the then-Chief Psychologist O'Mara, and an outwardly imperturbable 
individual who wore its uniform as if it had been born with it as a well-fitting 
and wrinkle-free second skin. Now that it had resigned its commission, its 
impeccably-tailored civilian clothing still gave the impression that it was 
completely in control of itself and, in all physical and mental respects, ready 
for inspection.
"Possibly," it said finally.
Prilicla was beginning to share the captain's growing feeling of puzzlement. He 
said, "The administrator feels hesitancy, friend Fletcher. I can read emotions 
but not thoughts, as you know, but I feel sure that friend Braithwaite would 
prefer that we volunteered for this particular mission."
"I understand," said Fletcher. Still looking at the administrator, he went on. 
"We appreciate the politeness, sir, but you must be pretty sure what our 
response will be, so you would save time by simply telling us to volunteer. 
Rhabwar is maintained in constant flight-readiness, as you well know. The 
technical and medical crew haven't had any exercise with her for close on six 
months, and if the mission is urgent. . . well, we can't hurry in hyperspace, so 
the only response time we can save will be between this office and the dock and, 
of course, our ship's speed in getting us out to jump distance." It hesitated 
and glanced quickly towards Prilicla, radiating a degree of uncertainty so mild 
that it was highly complimentary before it went on. "We volunteer."
Prilicla, who was far from being physically robust, belonged to a species which 
considered cowardice, moral or otherwise, to be its prime survival 
characteristic. The possession of a highly developed empathic faculty forced him 
to be agreeable to everyone in order to keep the emotional radiation in his 
immediate surroundings as pleasant as possible. He spoke with greater 
hesitation.
"Friend Braithwaite," he said cautiously, "what precisely are we volunteering 
for?"
"Thank you both," said the administrator, radiating relief. It pressed a key on 
its desk console and went on. "I've transferred all the available information to 
your ship's computer for later study. It isn't much, and all we know for sure is 
that three distress beacons have been detonated within a standard day of each 
other from the same location in Sector Eighteen. As we would expect from one of 
the incompletely explored areas, the first two bore radiation signatures that 
were new to us as well as being significantly different from each other in 
signal strength and duration. The third was a Federation standard-issue beacon 
belonging, we presume, to the Monitor Corps survey cruiser Terragar, which was 
engaged in mapping that sector, and which must have responded to the earlier 
two distress beacons. Our communications people don't know what to make of those 
first two beacons, if they were in fact distress beacons. That's why I hesitated 
about ordering Rhabwar to take this one."
Captain Fletcher's voice and emotional radiation still reflected the puzzlement 
they were both feeling, but Prilicla remained silent because he could feel that 
the other was about to ask the questions he himself wanted answered.
"Sir," Fletcher said respectfully, "your background is in other-species 
psychology, so you may not be aware of the tech-v nical background. But if this 
potted lecture is unnecessary, please tell me to shut up.
"Just as we know of only one method of traveling in hy-perspace," it went on, 
"there is only one way of sending a distress signal if a major malfunction 
occurs and a vessel is stranded in normal space between the stars. Tight-beam 
subspace radio is
not a dependable means of interstellar communication from a ship, subject as it 
is to interference and distortion from intervening stellar bodies as well as 
requiring inordinate amounts of power to send, power which a distressed ship is 
unlikely to have available. But a distress beacon doesn't have to carry 
intelligence. It is simply a nuclear-powered single-use device which broadcasts 
a location signal. It is a subspace cry for help which, in a matter of a few 
minutes or hours, burns itself out.
"Answering such calls for help from regions where the distressed vessel is 
almost certain to belong to a new, star-traveling species," it concluded, "is 
the reason why Rhabwar was built. I don't understand why you are hesitating, 
sir."
"Thank you, Captain," said the administrator, showing its teeth briefly in the 
peculiarly Earth-human snarl that denoted amusement. "Your explanation was 
clear, concise, and unnecessary. My hesitancy is due to the fact that three 
seperate distress beacons, two of them with radiation signatures that reveal a 
low order of design sophistication, were released in the same area. There may be 
three different and closely positioned ships out there, two of them belonging to 
a new intelligent species and all of them in trouble. But my communications 
specialists tell me that the first two appear to be crude devices which might 
not be distress beacons at all. Instead the signals may have been the radiation 
byproduct of a hyperspatial weapon of some kind. In short, they may not be cries 
for help, but shouts of anger. You could find yourselves rescuing other-species 
casualties who have been involved in an armed conflict. So be careful, with our 
special ambulance ship as well as your own lives. That is presupposing that 
Prilicla still intends to take part."
Its two recessed, Earth-human eyes were fixed on Prilicla and it was radiating 
feelings characteristic of a mind that is concealing something as it continued. 
"More important matters may require your attention here. The chief medical 
officer's position on Rhabwar is one for which you are overqualified. This would 
be a good time to nominate a replacement."
Prilicla had been given a legitimate, face-saving excuse for refusing a 
potentially very dangerous mission, for which he was grateful; but he had also 
been asked a question which, in an emergency situation like this one, required 
an immediate answer.
He said, "My principal assistant, Pathologist Murchison, has much prior 
experience in ship rescue operations and is entirely capable of replacing 
mebut, if you will pardon me discussing your present emotional radiation in 
front of friend Fletcher here, you are feeling unusually high levels of concern 
over this mission. That being the case, I think that you would prefer me to 
accept it, which I do ... Ah, I feel your relief, friend Braithwaite."
The administrator exhaled slowly, showed its teeth again, pressed a stud on the 
desk's communicator, and said briskly, "Thank you. Rhabwars crew members have 
now been alerted and are on their way to the ship, so I need detain you no 
longer. Good luck, gentlemen."
Prilicla wasn't sure that he liked being called a gentleman when he wasn't even 
an Earth-human, but he knew that the term was intended as a courtesy and that 
friend Braithwaite's feelings of concern for him were strong and sincere. He 
executed a steep, banking turn and flew rapidly towards the office entrance, 
knowing from long experience that no matter how fast he flew it would open in 
time to let him through.
He knew that the captain would not take offense at him using his natural 
advantages while traversing the six levels and intervening corridor network to 
reach the ambulance ship's dock before it did, because by now all of Rhabwar's 
personnel were engaged on a similar race against time rather than against each 
other. Fletcher had to use his large but nimble Earth-human feet and 
occasionally his voice and elbows to negotiate the crowded corridors, while 
Prilicla either flew above everyone's head or scampered along the ceilings on 
his six sucker-tipped legs as he met, overtook, and passed above a constant 
succession of creatures who looked visually horrendous, beautiful, repugnant, 
or
terrifying in their obvious physical strength and frightening variety of 
natural weapons which, being civilized members of the medical fraternity, they 
were rarely called on to use. Besides, all    * of them were his colleagues and, 
in most cases, his friends.
Not for the first time Prilicla asked himself why a fragile, delicately 
structured, insectile Cinrusskin empath had decided to spend his professional 
life in Sector General, surely one of the most dangerous working environments in 
the Galaxy for one of the GLNO classification, but the answer was always the 
same.
Despite the fact that his every waking moment was spent in a condition of 
perpetual vigilance verging on terror that would have driven the majority of his 
species mad, he had discovered that this was the only place and type of work 
that he wanted to be and do. Doubtless a Healer of the Mind would have talked 
learnedly about deeply buried death wishes, professional masochism, and the 
pathological need for constant danger, and would have pronounced him 
psychologically abnormal if not downright insane. But then, that diagnosis would 
have applied to the majority of beings who had aspired to permanent positions 
in the multispecies medical menagerie that was Sector Twelve General Hospital.
Considering his ability to fly unobstructed above everyone else's heads, it was 
no surprise that he was the first to board Rhabwar, where he logged his presence 
before moving quickly to his tiny, deeply upholstered quarters, checking that 
both backup sets of his gravity nullifiers were in operation. His cabin closely 
resembled the cocoonlike living quarters of his home world, and its artificial 
gravity was already set to Cinruss normal, which was slightly less than 
one-quarter of a standard Earth G. He stretched his wings and limbs to full 
extension, then distributed them into their most comfortable position for 
sleeping. Cinrusskins, fragile but physically active, needed a lot of sleep; and 
he knew that nothing important would be said or done until they were many hours 
into hyperspace.
A few minutes later he heard the captain coming along the
boarding-tube and climbing the central well to the control deck, closely 
followed by the other three Monitor Corps officers and the members of the 
medical team who collected on the casualty deck. They were complaining loudly 
and bitterly at the sudden interruption to their work or recreation, but all of 
the emotional radiation they emitted was of controlled excitement rather than 
bitterness.
For a few moments he eavesdropped on the emotional radiation filtering through 
to him from the casualty and control decks. They all knew that he couldn't help 
doing that because it was impossible to switch off his empathic faculty, so 
their emotional radiation was subdued, well-controlled, and, at this range, 
restful. They knew better than to radiate unpleasant feelings when their boss 
was trying to sleep.
CHAPTER 3
The briefing tape provided by Administrator Braithwaite had been played but not 
yet discussed, and their feelings of curiosity, caution, and growing impatience 
filled the casualty deck around him like a thick, emotional fog.
Captain Fletcher was sitting on a padded Kelgian treatment frame, flanked by 
Lieutenants Dodds and Chen, the communications and engineering officers 
respectively, while the astrogator and current watch-keeping officer, Lieutenant 
Haslam, viewed the proceedings through the control deck's vision link. 
Pathologist Murchison occupied the swivel seat of the diagnostic console with 
its back turned to the screen; Charge Nurse Naydrad had curled itself into a 
furry question mark on the nearest bed; and the polymorphic Dr. Danalta sat in 
the middle of the deck like a small green haystack from which it had extruded an 
ear and a single stalked eye. In order to avoid even the slightest risk of 
injury from sudden, unthinking movements of the others' limbs, Prilicla 
maintained a stable hover close to the ceiling while they all stared at the wall 
screen below him.
"As we have just seen," Prilicla said, "we will be entering what may be a unique 
situation for us, and we will have to be very careful..."
We're always careful," Naydrad broke in, its mobile fur
rippling into waves of impatience and anxiety. "How careful is Very'?"
Kelgians always said exactly what they feltbecause their mobile fur made their 
feelings plain, at least to another member of their speciesor they said nothing 
at all. He was aware of all of Naydrad's feelings, spoken and otherwise, and 
ignored the question because he intended to answer it anyway.
He went on. "The information available is sparse and speculative. We will be 
faced with the possible recovery of survivors from two distressed ships. One 
should be a normal, straightforward rescue and should pose no problems because 
it is the Corps' survey vessel Terragar, whose crew are Earth-human DBDGs. The 
second vessel has a crew whose physiological classification is as yet unknown. 
With survivors of two different species involved, one of which is ..."
"We assess the position at the disaster site and rescue the casualties, of 
whichever species, who are in the most urgent need of attention first," 
Pathologist Murchison broke in quietly, its mind radiating the emotions of 
expectation, curiosity, and confidence characteristic of one who is accustomed 
to meeting professional challenges. "I don't see the problem, sir. This is what 
we do."
"... is possibly responsible for causing the casualties on the first ship," 
Prilicla went on firmly. "Or perhaps another, undistressed vessel or vessels in 
the area have caused both sets of casualties. We must prepare and organize now 
for that eventuality, beginning with a clarification of the chain of command."
For several minutes nobody spoke. The level of their emotional radiation 
increased in strength and complexity, but not to a stage where it was affecting 
him physically. The three Monitor Corps officers were reacting with controlled 
restraint in the face of possible danger, the feelings characteristic of the 
military mind. Murchison's radiation was complex and negative, as was 
Naydrad's, but neither of them were feeling strongly enough to vo-
calize their objections. Unlike the others who were feeling minor non-specific 
anxiety and uncertainty, Danalta projected the calm self-assurance of a 
shape-changer who felt itself to be impervious to all forms of physical injury.
"Normally," Prilicla went on, "friend Fletcher here is in operational command of 
Rhabwar until it arrives at a disaster site, after which it is the senior 
medical officer, myself, who has the rank. But on this mission it may well be 
that, initially at least, military tactics will be of more benefit to us than 
medical expertise. I feel your agreement, friend Fletcher, and also that you 
are wanting to speak. Please do so."
--The captain nodded. "Have you and the other medics considered the full 
implications of what you are saying? I realize that at present all this is pure 
speculation, but in the event of our being faced with a situation of armed 
conflict, difficultand to all you medics, disagreeable decisions will have to 
be taken, and orders issued by myself. If I am called on to make those 
decisions, my orders will have to be obeyed without question or argument, no 
matter how objectionable they will seem. This must be fully understood and 
accepted by everyone right nowbefore, and not during or after, the event. Is 
it?"
"At any space accident or surface disaster scene, that is how we obey Dr. 
Prilicla," Naydrad said, its fur and feelings projecting puzzlement. "This is 
normal procedure for us. Why are you stressing the obvious? Or am I missing 
something?"
"You are," said the captain, its emotional radiation as well as its voice quiet 
and under control, as it spoke words it was feeling an intense reluctance to 
say. "This ship is unarmed, but not without weapons of defense and offense. 
Lieutenant Chen."
The engineering officer cleared its breathing passages noisily and said, "For a 
limited duration, no more than a few hours, our meteorite shield can be 
stiffened sufficiently to give protection against shrapnel from missiles tipped 
with chemical-explosive warheads. But if one was tipped with a nuclear device, 
we wouldn't have a prayer."
Lieutenant Haslam, whose astrogation speciality included long- and short-range 
ship handling, joined in without being asked. It said, "My tractor-pressor beam 
array, which is normally used on wide focus for docking or pulling in space 
wreckage for closer examination, can be modified to serve as a weapon, although 
not a very destructive one. Providing we can control the distance of the object 
and precisely match its speed, the pressor focus can be narrowed to within a 
diameter of a few feet to punch a hole in the opposition's hull plating. The 
catch is that it would increase the already heavy meteorite-shield drain on our 
power reserves, the shields would go down, and we'd be defenseless against 
whatever form of nastiness the opposition wanted to throw at us."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said the captain. To the others it went on, "So you can 
see that we are poorly equipped for a military operation. The point I am making 
is that, should we encounter a situation of armed conflict or its aftermath, I 
shall assess the tactical picture and the decisions thereafter will be mine. 
These will include an immediate withdrawal to the safety of hyperspace if the 
action is still in progress. If not, and if there are damaged vessels in the 
area which I consider incapable of threatening our ship, I shall take, but not 
necessarily follow, the advice of the senior medical officer regarding the 
choice of which set of survivors, if any, is to be recovered first. These should 
be the Monitor Corps Earth-humans rather than the new, other-species casualties 
because"
"Captain Fletcher!" Murchison broke in, its words accompanied by an explosion 
of shock and outrage that made Prilicla feel as if he had flown into a solid 
wall, an effect reinforced by the emotional reactions of the other medics. "That 
is not what we do here!"
The captain paused for a moment to order its own thoughts and feelings, which 
closely resembled those of its listeners, then continued quietly. "Normally, it 
is not, ma'am. I was about to say that there are sound tactical and 
psychological reasons for
rescuing our own people first. They at least know who and what we represent and 
can furnish us with current intelligence regarding the situation, while the 
other people will be confused, frightened, and probably injured aliens who will 
take one look at us"
__he glanced quickly at the medical menagerie around him
"and feel sure that we mean them harm. You must agree that it would be better to 
know something about the strangers, however little, before attempting to rescue 
and treat them.
"In the event," it went on, looking up at the hovering Prilicla, "the decision 
and choice may not be necessary. But if it is, the med team must be prepared to 
treat the casualties in the order I designate. Is this clearly understood?"
It was, Prilicla knew, because there were no strong feelings of negation coming 
from anyone, and the surrounding emotional radiation was settling down to a 
level which enabled him to maintain a stable hover. It was Naydrad, their 
specialist in heavy rescue, who broke the lengthening silence.
"If nobody has anything else to add," it said with an impatient ripple of its 
fur, "I for one want to review the medical log and space-rescue techniques. 
After six months in the hospital where all the patients are neatly stretched out 
in beds or whatever, one gets a little rusty."
Without saying anything else, the captain left the casualty deck, closely 
followed by the two junior officers. Naydrad began running a visual summary of 
Rhabwar's early missions and the often unorthodox rescue techniques involved 
while recovering casualties. Murchison and Danalta joined it before the screen, 
probably because it was the only thing that was moving, apart from Prilicla's 
wings. Their emotional radiation was complex but firmly controlled as if they 
might be holding back the urge to say something. Prilicla excused himself and 
flew up the central well to his quarters so as to have the opportunity of 
thinking without the close proximity of outside emotional interferenceand, of 
course, to give them the chance to relieve their feelings verbally. This is not 
what we do here," Murchison had said.
He did not need Naydrad's viewscreen to remind him of all the things they had 
done on Rhabwar, including the rules they had broken or seriously deformed, 
because the memories were returning as sharp, clear, and almost tactile overlays 
on the flickering grey blur of hyperspace outside his cabin's viewport. 
Prilicla had an outstandingly good memory.
He began with the briefing on operational philosophy before the first and 
supposedly routine shakedown cruise. It had been explained that over the past 
century the Monitor Corps, as the Federation's executive and law-enforcement 
arm, had been charged with the maintenance of the Pax Galactica, but because the 
peace they guarded required minimum maintenance, they had been given additional 
responsibilities and an obscenely large budget for stellar survey and 
exploration. In the very rare event that they turned up a planet with 
intelligent life, they were also given responsibility for the delicate, complex, 
and lengthy first-contact procedures. Since its formation, the Corps' 
other-species communications and cultural-contact specialists had found three 
such worlds and established successful relations with them, to the point where 
they had become member species of the Federation.
But there is a tendency for travelers to meet other travelers, often in distress 
and far from home. The advantage of meetings with other space travelers was that 
both species were already open to the idea that intelligent and possibly 
visually horrendous beings inhabited the starsas opposed to contacting less 
advanced, planetbound cultures, who would be much more suspicious and fearful of 
the terrifying strangers who had dropped from their skies.
The trouble where the travelers were concerned was that there was only one known 
system for traveling in hyperspace, and one methodthe nuclear-powered distress 
beaconof calling for help if a catastrophe occurred that marooned the 
distressed ship between the stars. The result had been that many other highly 
intelligent and technologically advanced species had been discovered with whom 
they could not make contact because
they were nothing but dead or dying organic debris lying tangled inside the 
wreckage of their starships. With the rescue ships' medical officers unable to 
provide the required assistance to completely alien life-forms, the casualties 
had been rushed to Sector General, where a few of them had been successfully 
treated, while the rest ended up in the pathology department as specimens whose 
worlds of origin were unknown.
That was the reason why the special ambulance ship Rhabwar had been 
constructed. Not only was it commanded by an officer skilled in unraveling the 
puzzles presented by unique alien technology, its crew included a medical team 
specialized both in ship-rescue techniques and multi-species alien physiology. 
The result had been that since their ship had been commissioned, seven new 
species had been contacted, and subsequently became members of the Federation.
In every case this had been accomplishednot by a slow, patient buildup and 
widening of communications until the exchange of complex philosophical and 
sociological concepts became possible, but by demonstrating the Federation's 
goodwill towards newly discovered species by rescuing and giving medical or 
other assistance to ailing, injured, or space-wrecked aliens.
The memories and images were returning, sharp and clear. In many of them, unlike 
this time, he had not borne the clinical responsibility for rescue and treatment 
because the then-Senior Physician Conway had been in charge of the medical team, 
with himself assisting as a kind of empathic bloodhound whose job was to smell 
out and separate the dead from the barely living casualties. There had been the 
recovery of the utterly savage and non-sapient Protectors of the Unborn whose 
wombs contained their telepathic and highly intelligent offspring; and the Blind 
Ones, whose hearing and touch had been so sensitive that they had learned to 
build devices that enables them to feel the radiation that filtered down to 
their world from the stars they would never see, even though they had traveled 
between them; and there had been the Duwetti, the Dwerlans, the Gogleskans, and 
the
others. All had presented their particular clinical problems and associated 
physical dangers, especially to a fragile life-form like himself who could 
literally be blown away by a strong wind.
He wondered how the present-day Diagnostician Conway would have handled the 
current situation, where its beloved special ambulance was in danger of 
becoming a ship of war. Certainly not by flying away to hide in its room.
CHAPTER 4
It was four days later. Beyond the direct-vision panel and on the main screen 
that was relaying the control deck image, the flickering grey motion of 
hyperspace gave a final, eye-twisting heave before dissolving into a view of 
normal space. Within a few moments the relayed voice of Lieutenant Dodds on the 
sensors was telling them and the ship's mission recorders what they were 
already seeing.
"We have emerged close to a planet, Captain," it reported crisply. "The 
coloration and cloud cover suggests an atmosphere capable of sustaining 
warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing life and the vegetation to support it. Two ships 
are in close orbit around the planet within fifty miles of each other. One is 
Terragar; the other has a configuration that is new to us. Neither is showing 
serious structural damage."
"Split the screen," said the captain. "Give me maximum magnification on both. 
Haslam, contact Terragar."
The casualty-deck screen blurred suddenly, then showed images of the two ships 
that expanded rapidly until they touched the edges of their display areas.
"Terragar is not obviously damaged," said Dodds, contin-umg to describe what 
they were seeing. "But it is tumbling slowly a pronounced lateral spin, and 
there is no light from the
flight-deck canopy or the viewports. Sir, it looks like they have no power, 
certainly not for attitude control___"
"Or communication," Haslam broke in. "They aren't responding to our signal."
"The other ship also appears to be unlit," Dodds continued, straying, "although 
that could be explained by visual hypersen-sitivity on the part of the crew. The 
outer hull is intact apart from two areas amidships about three and four meters 
in diameter. They are deeply cratered, which suggests the recent presence of 
intense heat accompanied by explosions. There is no evidence of the fogging that 
would indicate escaping air or whatever it is that they breathe. Either their 
safety bulkhead seals worked very fast, or the hits they sustained were lethal 
and the ship is airless and probably lifeless.
"The outer hull," it added, "shows no evidence of anything recognizable as 
external weapons launchers, or of the protective covers that would conceal such 
weapons. First indications, sir, are that this vessel was a victim rather than 
an attacker."
Even though half the length of Rhabwar stretched between them and the emotional 
radiation was attenuated, Prilicla could feel the captain coming to a decision.
"Very well," it said. "Move in. Continue trying to raise Ter-ragar. I want to 
know what happened here.. .. Power room; Chen, we're now too close to the planet 
to jump, so stand by for maximum thrust on the main drive. Haslam, be ready to 
pull out at the first sign of anything resembling a hostile action. I'll need 
the fastest possible reaction time on this."
"Understood," said Haslam.
Around them the casualty deck gave an almost imperceptible lurch as the 
artificial-gravity system compensated for the sudden application of thrust. The 
repeater screen returned to showing a single, unmagnified picture of the two 
ships as they grew larger with diminishing distance.
Prilicla dropped lightly to the deck, where he folded his wings and legs tightly 
before pulling on his spacesuit. Murchison,
Naydrad, and Danalta were already climbing into theirs, all radiating minor 
levels of excitement, expectation, and caution. When he had checked his own air 
supply, antigravity system, and suit thrusters, he looked around at the others 
in turn.
"The medical team and powered litters are standing by, friend Fletcher," he 
reported.
"Thank you, Doctor," the other replied. "We are closing with Terragar now."
Prilicla began to worry. Although it was completely without weaponry, in overall 
structure Rhabwar had been modeled on the Monitor Corps' heavy cruiser, a class 
of vessel whose broad delta-wing configuration enabled it to be aerodynamically 
maneuvered within a planetary atmosphere. But he was afraid that it was much 
too massive for it to be capable of the small and precise movements in three 
dimensions that were needed to bring it to within two hundred meters of the 
distressed ship. Bearing in mind its tremendous mass and inertia, if Rhabwar 
were to collide with Terragar it would sustain only superficial damage, while 
the other vessel would have its hull caved in, with consequent disastrous 
injuries to its crew.
An ambulance wasn't supposed to make medical work for itself.
But there was no sign of worry or even uncertainty in the emotional radiation 
that was filtering down from the control deck, so he moved to the direct-vision 
panel to watch the approaching planet and the two orbiting ships that were 
being lit by the bright, tattered carpet of clouds, consoling himself with the 
thought that his specialty was other-species medicine and not ship-handling, and 
wondering what new physiological challenges awaited them.
"Still no sign of life or movement from the alien," Haslam
reported. Its voice was calm and unemotional but it and everyone else on the 
control deck was radiating intense relief. "The sensors
indicate low levels of residual power from two areas amidships,
but in my opinion, not nearly enough for a weapons power-up,
and the ship appears to have been radiating its internal heat into space for 
several days without any attempt to maintain living temperature levels, whatever 
they are for these people. I'd say that the alien ship is a problem that can 
wait, sir."
"I agree," said the captain, "but keep your eyes on it, just in case. Casualty 
deck?"
"Yes, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla.
"We will be at one hundred meters and motionless with respect to Terragars 
position in eleven minutes," said the captain. "I realize that we will be at 
extreme range for your empathic faculty, but please do your best to detect the 
crew's emotional radiation, if there is any."
"Of course, friend Fletcher."
The quality of the captain's own emotional radiation belied the calmness in its 
voice, otherwise it would not have wasted time and breath asking him to do the 
job that he was here expressly to perform. But the crew of the distressed ship 
were all Earth-human DBDGs. Perhaps it had friends among them.
He watched with the other members of the team at the direct-vision panel as 
their ship closed with the Monitor Corps survey vessel. Terragar was rolling, as 
well as slowly pitching end over end. The canopy of the unlit control deck was 
moving past them at an awkward angle which did not allow a clear view of the 
interior. But for one brief moment the angle was right, and Prilicla was able to 
see movement.
"Friend Fletcher," he said urgently. "I think I detected motion behind the 
control canopy. Nobody else down here saw anything or they would be emoting 
about it by now. It was just a glimpse, effaces, hands, and upper bodies of at 
least three Earth-humans. They are alive, but the distance is extreme for an 
empathic reading."
"We didn't see anything, either," the captain replied, "but compared with your 
GLNO sensorium, ours makes us feel as if we're wearing mittens and blindfolds. 
Haslam, deploy the tractor beams and kill the spin on that ship. Position it for 
a clear view
into the control canopy. Then push across a cable with a communicator fitted 
with a two-way sound-conduction pad. Land it, but gently, on the canopy. We 
badly need information on this situation, and, of course, to know if anyone 
needs medical attention."
The misty-blue light of two of Rhabwar's tractor beams flickered out to focus on 
the bows and stern of the Monitor ship, gradually reducing its spin. A moment 
later a thinner beam lifted out the communicator, but held it midway between the 
two ships to wait for its target to come to rest. Prilicla had a slightly longer 
and clearer view of the people inside the canopy before they rolled out of 
sight.
"Friend Fletcher," he said urgently, responding to feelings that she felt sure 
were not all his own. "I saw four officers, that's the entire complement of a 
survey vessel. They were waving at us, shaking their heads vigorously in your 
DBDG non-verbal signal of negation, and showing the palms of their hands. One 
was pointing repeatedly in the direction of the alien ship and our communicator. 
The empathic range is extreme but they are radiating high levels of agitation."
"I saw them, too," said the captain. "They don't appear to be seriously injured; 
they're about to be rescued and have little to feel agitated about. Still... 
Haslam, is the alien ship doing anything to worry us?"
"No, sir," the lieutenant replied. "It's still dead in the water, so to speak."
Prilicla paused for a moment, nerving himself for the effort of saying something 
argumentative if not disagreeable to another person whose irritated or angry 
reaction would bounce back and hit him hard.
"It was their feelings I read," he said carefully. "Because of the interference 
from the emotional radiation around me, theirs were difficult to define. There 
was agitation, however, and it had to be intense to reach me at this distance. 
May I make a suggestion and ask a favor?"
The captain was feeling the irritation characteristic of an entity whose ideas 
and authority were being questioned, but it was quickly brought under control. 
It said, "Go ahead, Doctor."
"Thank you," he said, looking around the casualty deck to indicate that his 
words were for them as well. "It is this. Would you please instruct your 
officers, as much as they are able, to relax mentally and avoid intensive 
thinking or associated feelings? I would like to get a clearer idea of what is 
bothering the Terragar crew. I am having a bad feeling about this situation, 
friend Fletcher."
"And since when," said Murchison in a quiet voice that was just loud enough for 
the captain to overhear it, "has a feeling of Prilicla's been wrong?"
"Do as the Doctor says, gentlemen," the captain replied promptly, pretending 
that it hadn't heard. "All of you make your minds blank"it gave a soft 
Earth-human bark"or at least blanker than usual."
All over the ship, from the control deck forward and the power room aft and from 
the medical team around him, they were staring at blank walls and deck surfaces 
or the backs of closed eyelids, those who had them, or were using whatever other 
means they had of reducing cerebration and feeling. Nobody knew better than 
himself how difficult it was to switch the mind to low alert and think of 
absolutely nothing, but they were all trying.
Terragar's control canopy had rolled out of sight, but that had no effect on the 
crew's emotional radiation, which was still tenuous, confused, and at a strength 
that was barely readable. But without the local empathic interference the 
individual feelings were gradually becoming clearer and easier to define, and 
they were anything but pleasant.
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla urgently, "I feel fear and, intense negation. 
For me to be able to detect them at this range, those feelings must be extreme. 
The fear seems to be both personal and impersonal, the latter emotion 
characteristic of a being who fears a threat to others besides itself. I'm an 
empath, not a telepath,   but   I'd   say... Look,   they're   coming   into   
sight again-----"
He could see no details of the four faces other than that
their mouths were opening and closing. Their hands were gesticulating wildly, 
sometimes pointing at the alien ship but more often towards Rhabwar and the 
communicator floating at the end of its sensor cable midway between their two 
vessels. Their pale, Earth-human palms were showing as they pressed them 
repeatedly against the inside of the canopy.
What were they trying to say?
"... They're pointing at the alien ship and at us," he went on quickly, "but 
mostly at the communicator you're sending over. And they're making pushing 
movements with their hands. Their fear and agitation is increasing. I feel sure 
they want us to go away."
"But why, dammit?" said the captain. "Have they lost their senses? I'm just 
trying to stabilize their ship and establish a communicator link."
"Whatever you're doing," said Prilicla firmly, "it is making them fearful and 
they badly want you to stop doing it."
One of the four gesticulating crew members had moved quickly out of sight. 
Before he could mention it to the captain, Fletcher spoke again. Its voice and 
the feelings that accompanied it were calm and confident with the habit of 
command.
"With respect, Doctor," it said, "the feelings you read from them make no sense, 
and won't until we talk to them and they explain themselves and this whole damn 
situation. We need that "formation before we can risk boarding the alien ship. 
Haslam, love the communicator close and be ready to attach it when you've killed 
the spin."
Please wait," said Prilicla urgently, "and consider. The other crew aren't 
injured, they emote no feelings of pain or phys-cal distress, only agitation at 
our close approach. So the matter clinically urgent. It will do no harm if you 
move back a short
distance, temporarily, just to reassure them if nothing else. Friend Fletcher, I 
have a very bad feeling about this."
He felt the captain's continuing intransigence as well as the beginnings of 
hesitation as it spoke.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," it said firmly. "My first requirement is to talk to them as 
soon as"
"Sir!" Haslam broke in. "They're pulling free of our tractor beam, on their main 
thrusters, for God's sake, at over three Gs. They've no attitude 
controlotherwise they'd have checked their own spin by now. That's stupid, 
suicidal! They're diving into atmosphere, and when they move farther ahead and 
their ion stream hits us, we'll be toasted like a ..."
It broke off as the hot, blue spear streaming from the other ship's main drive 
flickered and died, immediately reducing the fear feelings coming from Rhabwar's 
control deck.
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently, "I told you that they didn't want us to 
close with them, but neither do they want to kill us."
The captain used an Earth-human expression that his translator refused to 
accept.
"You were right, Doctor," it went on, "but we'll need to get very close to them 
indeed, unless we want to watch them burn up in atmosphere."
CHAPTER 5
Terragar belonged to a class of vessel that had been designed to operate in the 
weightless and airless conditions of space, and to dock only with other ships or 
orbiting supply and maintenance facilities. It was not an aerodynamically clean 
object and the structural projections supporting its complex of long-range 
sensors and mapping cameras made it resemble a cross between a falling brick and 
a stick insect. The congenitally tactless Nay-drad observed that physically it 
bore a close resemblance to their chief.
Even though he knew that his Cinrusskin body was unusually well-formed and 
beautiful, Prilicla had neither responded nor taken offense. Kelgians always 
said exactly what they felt; telling a lie was for them a complete waste of 
time. It was the strong, unspoken emotions of Naydrad and the others, the 
feelings of loyalty, admiration, concern, and deep personal regard, that were 
important. Besides, the crucial words and feelings were coming from the people 
on the control deck.
Catch up to them and kill that spin," the captain was saying urgently. "There's 
no need to be so gentle, dammit! Check all motion, refocus to full strength, and 
drag them back. We have the power."
Yes, but no, sir," Haslam replied, its voice hurried but re-
spectful. "The tractor acts on the nearest surface. If we drag them back too 
suddenly we'll peel off most of their outer skin and external hull structures. I 
have to be gentle to avoid pulling the whole ship apart."
"Very well," said the captain. "Be gentle, then, but faster." "We're picking up 
atmospheric heating," Dodd's voice reported; "so are they."
In the direct-vision panel Prilicla could see the ponderously spinning shape of 
Terragar as the tractor beam enclosed it in a pale blue mist and drew it closer. 
The tumbling action was gradually slowing to a stop, but both ships were 
entering the upper atmosphere much too quickly for the safety of the vessel 
ahead. Through the confusion of emotional radiation coming from Rhabwar he could 
still feel the intense fear mixed with dogged determination emanating from the 
other crew. His empathic reading just did not make sense. Not for the first 
time, he wished he could know what others were thinking instead of feeling.
"You're getting there," said the captain. "Once you kill the rest of that spin, 
try to position them so they'll go in tail-first. The stern structure is 
stronger than the forward section and will burn away slower than the control 
canopy. Can't you slow them down faster than that?"
"In order," said Haslam. "Yes, sir. No, sir. I'm trying, sir." The other ship 
was stable and directly ahead of them, with its control canopy continuously in 
view. The crew had donned heavy-duty spacesuits with the helmets thrown back. 
Their mouths were opening and closing widely as if they were shouting, and they 
were still making pushing motions with their hands. From his present viewpoint 
Prilicla could not see the heating of the ship's stern, but the peripheral 
sensor arrays and their spidery support structures were turning bright red and 
being bent backwards by the tenuous gale of near-vacuum that was blowing past 
them. Suddenly one of them tore free and there was a loud, metallic clang as it 
glanced harmlessly off Rhabwar's superstructure.
"Why don't they use their main thrusters again?" said Dodds, radiating anger and 
impatience. "That would help us to
slow them down."
"I don't know," said the captain. A moment later it went
on. "Doctor, do you have any answers?"
"Yes, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "In spite of their fear and certainty of 
imminent termination, they won't help you because they don't want us to come 
near them. I don't know why they are doing this, either, but their reasons must 
be very strong."
For a moment he felt the emotional gale raging on the control deck, with the 
captain's mind its storm center, then it became still with the calmness 
characteristic of a decision taken and a
mind made up.
"I don't know why they seem intent on suicide, Doctor," it said quietly, "but 
the fact that they've put on their spacesuits suggests that they still retain 
some of their will to survive. Whether they want to or not, I'm going to do my 
damnedest to save them. Or are you suggesting otherwise?"
"I was not suggesting otherwise, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "just warning 
you about the way they are feeling. No rational person fully understands why 
another intelligent being wants to commit suicide, but in every civilized 
culture we have ever found, it is considered a person's bounden duty, regardless 
of personal risk, to stop it from doing so."
The captain did not reply, but he felt its gratitude as it said, "Haslam, slow 
them down. Be less gentle."
From the ambulance ship's position slightly above and behind the distressed 
ship. Prilicla could see Terragar s stern section changing gradually from 
metallic grey through dull red to glowing orange. The lattice support structure 
carrying the mapping sensors were like bright yellow spiders' webs that sagged, 
melted, and were blown away by the slipstream. With a dreadful certainty, 
Prilicla waited for Terragar to explode into a disintegrating fireball. But 
incredibly, someone in Control was radiating feelings of optimism.
"Sir," said Haslam, "I think we may have done it. In a few more seconds their 
speed will be slowed to the point where there will be no more atmospheric 
heating beyond what they've already picked up. But they're not out of trouble 
yet...."
The red-hot particles of metallic fog were no longer streaming back from the 
other ship's superheated stern, but to Prilicla, nothing else seemed to have 
changed.
"... Because," the lieutenant went on, "I estimate that in about twenty minutes 
the heat from their stern will be conducted along the structure until it is 
evenly distributed throughout the ship. By then the survivors will be in a bad 
way."
"Then lift us out of atmosphere," said the captain. "Let the heat dissipate into 
space. You're able to do that now without causing their hull to break up?"
The voices in Control were calm but the feelings behind them, as were those of 
the medical team around him, were not. The emotional radiation coming from the 
people on the other ship was even worse.
"Yes, sir," Haslam replied. "But it will take an hour or more for all that heat 
to radiate into space and until then it would be too hot, as well as too late, 
for the rescue team to go in for them. By then they would be cooked in their own 
juices if they aren't that way already."
"Please ignore the lieutenant, Doctor," said the captain quickly. "Sometimes he 
has about as much tact as a drunken Kelgian. How are the survivors?"
For a moment Prilicla was silent as he watched the hot, red stain that was 
creeping inexorably forwards along Terragar's hull, its progress clearly visible 
in spite of the bright carpet of clouds and sunlit ocean unrolling rapidly below 
it. Suddenly the despair he was feeling began to be diluted by excitement and 
hope.
"They are alive," he said, "but the emotional radiation is characteristic of 
beings who are fearful and in intense discomfort. I am not a ship handler, 
friend Fletcher, but may I make a suggestion?"
"You want to try to recover them anyway," said the captain incredulously, "from 
a ship that is nearly red-hot? You and your team would die in the attempt. The 
answer is no."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "I am not emotionally capable of doing, or 
even of thinking of doing, such a brave and stupid thing. Instead, I was about 
to ask you to take both ships to the planetary surface as quickly as possible. 
Our altitude is less than fifty miles above an equatorial ocean and there are 
many islands, one with what looks like a sandy coastline coming over the 
horizon. If we had enough time we might cool Terragar by immersion."
Lieutenant Haslam swore out loud, something Prilicla had rarely heard it do in 
the presence of its captain and never while the recorders were running, and 
said, "My God, it wants us to dunk them in the ocean!"
"Can we do that, Lieutenant?" said Fletcher. "Is there time?"
"There might be," Haslam replied, "but it will be close."
"Then do it," said the captain. "We'll need to reduce our rate of descent to 
zero by the time we reach the surface, but to save time, hold off the 
deceleration until we're a few miles above sea level. The sudden braking will 
put a strain on the tractor beam, not to mention the other ship. Use your 
judgment, and try not to pull it apart at this late stage. Nice idea, Doctor. 
Thank you. How are the casualties?"
Friend Fletcher's gratitude, hope, and excitement were clear for Prilicla to 
feel, so there had been no need for the other to express them verbally. But when 
their ship was involved in a situation where anything might happen and every 
incident, instrument reading, and word were being recorded in case of an 
unforeseen calamity, he knew that the captain's tidy mind would want the credit 
for the idea and its gratitude to go on record.
"Still alive, friend Fletcher," he replied formally: "Their
-motional radiation indicates deep personal fear and despair but
- panic, and increasing physical discomfort. They are not vis-
to me, but the indications are that three of them are posi-
tioned closely together on the control deck, which is probably the coolest place 
in the ship, and a fourth one is farther aft. The rescue team is ready to go, on 
your signal."
Around him he could feel a combination of anxiety, impatience, and excitement 
as his team checked equipment that had already been checked many times. He 
remained silent because there was nothing useful he could say, and kept his eyes 
on Ter-ragar and the dull red tide of color that was creeping slowly towards its 
bow. He was startled when it disappeared suddenly as both ships plunged through 
the dark interior of a tropical storm. A few moments later it reappeared with a 
brief, overall puff of steam as the rainwater boiled off its overheated hull. 
Ahead of and below them, the smooth expanse of sunlit water was expanding and 
showing the first wrinkling of the larger waves. There was no feeling of 
deceleration because Rhabwar's artificial gravity system was maintaining the 
customary one-G, but Terragar was feeling it. Two small areas of the other 
ship's hull plating bulged outwards suddenly under the double pull of 
deceleration and the tractor beam, but they didn't peel away. By now their speed 
was being measured in tens rather than hundreds of miles per hour.
"This hasn't been what I'd call a covert approach to a newly discovered planet," 
said the captain, radiating sudden anxiety, "but we had no other choice. Did you 
scan for intelligent-life signs?"
"Briefly, sir, on the way down," said Haslam, "but the sensors are on record 
for later study. They report zero atmospheric industrial pollutants, no traffic 
on the audio or visual radio frequencies, and no indications of intelligent 
life. Altitude, five hundred meters and descending. The coastline of the island 
ahead is coming up."
"Right," said the captain. "Check forward velocity to put us down no more than 
three hundred meters offshore, and it will save a few minutes if there's a nice, 
even seabed under us."
"There is," said Haslam. "The sensors indicate hard-packed sand with no reefs or 
rock outcroppings."
"Good," said Fletcher. "Power room, in five minutes we'll be supporting two 
ships. I'll need maximum power for the stilts."
"You'll have it," said Lieutenant Chen.
Their forward motion ceased as they dropped slowly to within five hundred meters 
of the waves, which were high and smooth and rounded so that each one seemed to 
throw back reflections of the sun. Against that continually moving dazzle, the 
red coloration of Terragar s hull had darkened almost to a normal, metallic 
grey, but the emotional radiation from its officers belied the appearance of 
normality.
The medical team, already suited-up and sealed, were watching him and the tremor 
that was shaking his limbs. He felt Pathologist Murchison's sympathy. It was 
wanting to talk and to help himprobably by trying to take his mind off the 
casualties by giving it something more cerebral to think aboutbut when it 
spoke, the subject remained the same.
"Sir," Murchison said, "earlier you said that their emotional radiation 
indicated that they were physically unharmed. Was there evidence of any 
psychological abnormality present? Why would they try deliberately to commit 
suicide rather than let us near them? By now they will have sustained overall 
burns or, if they kept their suits sealed and their cooling units at maximum, 
massive dehydration and heat prostration. But with respect, sir, there has to be 
something more wrong with them. What else can we expect?"
"I don't know, friend Murchison," Prilicla replied. "Remember, there was no 
suicidal intent, just extreme determination not to let us approach their ship. 
They tried very hard to get away from us, but it was the attitude of their ship 
which took them into atmosphere, and that was accidental."
It was a guess rather than anything as definite as a feeling, out he was 
wondering if there might be something, or perhaps
someone, on their ship who was no longer living, that they had not wanted 
Rhabwar's crew to go near. He kept that thought to himself, and the pathologist 
rejoined the general silence until it was broken by the captain.
"Deploy the stilts," it said. "Drop them in, but gently. Immerse them for five 
minutes."
Rhabwar was now positioned directly above the other ship and holding it 
horizontally above the ocean with a single tractor beam. Suddenly four more 
speared out in pressor mode, widely angled so that the ship was supported by a 
pyramid of misty-blue stilts that penetrated and pushed aside the water to rest 
solidly on the seabed. Terragar dropped gently towards the waves.
There was a tremendous explosion of steam and outflowing streamers of boiling 
water as it touched and then slipped below the surface. Everything was 
obliterated by a dazzling white fog for the few minutes it took for the strong, 
onshore breeze to blow it clear. But there was nothing to see except a large 
circle of boiling and bubbling ocean.
"Pull them up," said the captain.
The ship that rose into view was barely recognizable as Terragar. Steam and 
furiously boiling water were streaming out of the large gaps in the hull plating 
and where the entire control canopy had burst open. It looked as if the tractor 
beam was holding the ship not only up, but in one piece. Prilicla answered the 
question before the captain could ask it.
"They are still inside, friend Fletcher," he said, "but deeply unconscious and 
close to termination. We need to get to them, now."
"Sorry, Doctor," said the captain, "but not right now. Our sensors say that 
their hull interior is still too hot for your people to survive it, much less 
recover casualties. Haslam, submerge them again, this time for ten minutes."
Once again the other ship was immersed, but this time it seemed the sea above it 
was steaming rather than boiling. The emotional radiation of the casualties 
remained unchanged. When
Terragar reappeared this time, the water running down its sides and pouring from 
the gaps in its hull was, according to the sensors, very warm rather than hot, 
and no longer a threat to the rescue team.
"Instructions, Doctor?" said the captain.
Plainly the other was feeling that their situation no longer contained a 
military threat and was immediately passing the operational responsibility back 
to the senior medical officer on site.
"Friend Fletcher," he said briskly, "please move the wreck towards the beach and 
place it in the shallows at a depth that will not inconvenience us but where the 
wave action will continue to cool it. We'll board with four antigravity litters 
while friend Murchison remains with you to supervise the transfer and erection 
of our field dressing station and the special equipment we may need. The 
casualty deck will be reserved for the recovery of the possible other-species 
survivors in orbit. As quickly as possible, use your tractor beam to position 
the unit's structures, friend Murchison, and its equipment onshore within one 
hundred meters of the wreck. Land Rhabwar farther inland at a minimum distance 
of three hundred meters. Should you need to take off or change position for 
operational reasons, you must not approach the medical station or the wreck any 
closer than that from any direction until instructed otherwise."
The captain was radiating puzzlement, feelings shared by everyone else on the 
ship, as it said, "This is ridiculous, Doctor. Surely you are being 
unnecessarily cautious about an unpowered and helpless wreck."
Prilicla paused for a moment. When he spoke, he tried to sound resolute and 
inflexible, which was very difficult for a Cin-nisskin empath even when he was 
carrying mind-partners of a more heavyweight and psychologically positive 
species.
When we approached it in orbit," he said, "Terragar used its last reserves of 
power to move away from us. Its crew were willing to die rather than allow our 
ship, or perhaps our crew members, to make physical contact with them. The 
rescue team will shortly be making physical contact with them, with extreme 
caution, naturally. But until we discover the medical, psychological, or other 
reasons behind their apparently suicidal or self-sacrificing action, I am 
expressly forbidding Rhabwar to do so."
CHAPTER 6
Sunlight shone through the ragged-edged hole where the control-room canopy had 
been. The heat-discolored instrumentation that the water had not already swept 
into tangled heaps on the deck showed dead, blank readouts. The remains of the 
four control couches were empty, with faintly steaming water flowing slowly 
between their support struts as it ran away through cracks in the ruptured deck. 
But life was present, and even though it was difficult to detect through the 
welter of emotional radiation coming from the rest of the team, he knew that it 
was close by.
"Naydrad, Danalta," he said urgently, "please subdue your feelings. You're 
muddying the emotional waters."
A moment later he pointed towards a group of four tall cabinets set into the aft 
bulkhead. Heat deformation had twisted one of the doors slightly open while the 
others looked as if they had been fused shut. They were the standard ship 
furniture that contained the crew's spacesuits Now they contained the crew as 
well, because their structures had given an extra layer of protection against 
the heat.
For some reason these people had been willing to die, Pril-
,  a reminded himself again, but they had also wanted badly to live.
Quickly, Naydrad sliced off the four doors with its cutting torch. Only three of 
the cabinets were occupied, because earlier one of the officers had gone aft to 
start the main thrusters manually when the ship had made its desperate attempt 
to pull away from Rhabwar. But there was too much local emotional radiation for 
him to be able to detect accurately the fourth man's distance or position. He 
could feel, although the source was so faint that it might have been a hope 
rather than a feeling, that the fourth officer was still alive. But there was no 
time to go looking for it now because the other three needed immediate 
attention. Naydrad and Danalta were already removing them from the cabinets. He 
tried to look at their faces, but the inside of the visors were steamed up and 
the suits were hot to the touch.
"Finish transferring them to the litters," he said, moving closer to lay his 
hand gently on each of them in turn, "then remove the spacesuits and all body 
coverings. Friend Murchison, the vision pickups are running. Are you seeing 
this, and are you ready to receive casualties?"
"Yes, sir," it replied. "Rhabwar has lifted over the prefabricated med station, 
myself, and the Earth-human burn medication onto the beach above the high-water 
mark. Until now I was too busy even to notice if this world had a moon and 
tides. It does. I'll be ready to take the casualties in fifteen minutes. Have 
you a preliminary assessment for me, sir?"
Prilicla flew slowly over the three Earth-humans. Rapidly but very gently, their 
suits and underlying garments, apart from the small areas of scorched clothing 
still adhering to the bodies, were being cut away by Naydrad and Danalta. The 
Earth-humans were too deeply unconscious for their emotional radiation to 
trouble him, but the mere thought of what they must have suffered before they 
had reached that state was enough to make his hovering flight less than stable. 
In the hospital he had seen Chief Dietitian Gurronsevas produce synthetic meat 
dishes that were less well-cooked.
"All three casualties are suffering from advanced heat pros-
tration and massive dehydration," Prilicla replied in a clinical voice that 
belied his underlying feelings. "Undoubtedly this followed the overload and 
apparent recent failurevery recent, otherwise the casualties would have 
terminated by nowof their suits' cooling systems. There is localized surface 
and subdermal burning, with escharring in several areas to a depth of two 
centimeters, where the internal metal stiffening of the suits made contact 
through the clothing, or the wearer lost consciousness and allowed the front or 
side of its cranium to fall against the heated interior of the helmets. There 
are third-degree burns to the hands, feet, and crania, plus a narrow band 
encircling the waist, with an estimated total body area of ten to fifteen 
percent. "Interim treatment will be to place the casualties into individual 
litters," he went on, giving the information friend Murchison needed while at 
the same time issuing polite instructions to the two team members working beside 
him, "with the canopies sealed and the refrigeration units reducing the ambient 
temperature. Rehydration is a matter of urgency but must wait until your 
facilities are available. Friend Naydrad will convey the three litters to you 
and assist while I..."
"Then the fourth officer terminated?" it broke in softly. "Perhaps not," he 
replied. "I have a feeling, very tenuous and more likely only a wish, that it is 
still alive somewhere aft. Friend Danalta will remain here to help me find it."
Even at one hundred meters distance he could feel Mur-chison's sudden burst of 
negativity and deep concern.
Sir," it said, "the captain has just informed me that the continuous strain on 
the fabric of that ship caused by the braking action of the tractor beam, 
together with the atmospheric buffeting during reentry, will have converted the 
interior into a heap of wreckage that could collapse at any time. As well, the 
hull temperature at the stern is still unacceptably high for would-be rescuers. 
You will be at serious risk and may wish to reconsider your recent decision. I 
suggest you send Naydrad with Danalta
to recover the missing casualty ..."
Well," said the Kelgian, its fur rippling under the protective garment, "isn't 
it nice to be considered expendable?"
". .. while you bring in the other litters," it went on. "From the condition of 
the first three, it looks as though your surgical experience will be urgently 
required here."
"I agree, friend Murchison," said Prilicla. "But if Danalta or Naydrad found the 
fourth crew member, neither of them would be able to know whether they were 
recovering an unconscious or dead casualty without removing its suit, which 
would be contraindicated in the high temperature levels aft. You know very well 
that only I can feel and specify at a distance whether it is a casualty 
requiring urgent attention, or a cadaver that can await recovery at more 
convenient time."
He moved to the fourth litter and climbed inside, sealing the pressure canopy 
behind him for maximum protection before signaling with a forward manipulator 
for Danalta to proceed aft.
"Please refrain from going into maternal mode, friend Murchison," he added. "I 
promise to be very careful."
The situation aft was much worse than he had expected with an almost solid plug 
of wreckage barring their way. Atmospheric heating and the tractor-beam stresses 
had caused the interior hull plating to buckle and open up so that ragged, metal 
edges projected into their path and opened wide cracks that allowed long, 
uneven triangles of daylight to show through. He could feel the buildup of heat 
even through the litter canopy and his own suit's laboring cooling system. But 
Danalta, as it had done on many previous rescue operations, was proving once 
again that its polymorphic species was the closest thing to a general-purpose 
organic tool in the known universe.
His limbs were showing a faint tremor which his polymorphic friend had noticed, 
but was forbearing to mention, because the emotional radiation causing it was 
due to Prilicla's own cowardice.
It was a terrible psychological burden to be afraid all the time, of everything 
and everybody, and of the harm that might be done him by accident or intention. 
But there were compensations. A life-form with hostile intent could not hide 
its feelings towards him, so he could either take evasive action or, if it was 
intelligent, try to change the other's hostility to feelings of disinterest or 
even friendship towards him. As a matter of pure survival as well as to secure a 
pleasant emotional environment for himself, he had made many good and protective 
friends. But there was nothing he could do about stupid pieces of sharp-edged, 
inanimate matter except try to avoid them.
There was another ship's officer to find, if it was still alive and emoting. 
Prilicla tried to allay his own fear and widen his empathic range while he 
followed and coordinated his litter's movements with those of the shape-changer.
Danalta was always a minimal source of emotional interference because it rarely 
encountered situations that caused it to have unpleasant feelings, and it was 
never afraid because nothingshort of a major explosion, or being crushed 
between two closing faces of massive colliding objectscould harm it. Now it was 
opening a path through the hot, steaming devastation by extruding appendages of 
the length, shape, and strength necessary to move obstacles aside or, with the 
whole of its body, taking shapes that it was better not to think about as it 
used itself as an organic pit prop that lifted masses of tumbled wreckage in 
order to enable the litter to go through.
Fotawn, the planet where Danalta's species had evolved, had been one of the 
least hospitable worlds to be discovered by the Galactic Federation. It had a 
highly eccentric orbit and consequent climatic variations so severe that an 
incredible degree of physical adaptability had been necessary for its flora and 
fauna to survive on a world of animal and vegetable shape-changers. Danalta's 
people, its dominant life-form, were of physiologyical classification TOBS. They 
had developed intelligence and an advanced civilization based on the 
philosophical rather than the Physical sciences, not by competing in the matter 
of natural weapons but by refining and perfecting their adaptive capabilities. 
In prehistoric times, when members of the species were faced with stronger 
natural enemies, their defensive options in order of preference had been 
protective mimicry, flight, or the adoption of a shape frightening to the 
attacker. The speed and accuracy of the mimicry suggested the possession of a 
high degree of receptive empathy of which the species was not consciously 
aware.
With such effective means of physical adaptability and self-protection 
available, the species was impervious to disease and normal levels of physical 
injury, so that the concepts of curative medicine and surgery had been 
completely incomprehensible to its people. In spite of this, Danalta had applied 
for and been accepted at Sector General for medical training.
Danalta's purpose in coming to the hospital, it had insisted, had been selfish 
rather than idealistic. The sixty-odd different life-forms who worked there were 
a unique and continuing challenge to its powers of mimicry. Admittedly, it was 
being forced into using all of its polymorphic abilitiesto reassure beings who 
might be suffering from serious physical or psychological malfunctions, by 
mimicking their shape and vocal output if there were no members of their own 
species present to give reassurance; or, in an accident situation with 
associated toxic pollution, it could adapt its shape and tegument quickly so 
that urgently required treatment would not be delayed because of time wasted in 
donning protective garments; or during surgery it could extrude limbs and 
digits of the indicated shape and function which were capable of quickly 
repairing damage to otherwise inaccessible areas where organic damage or 
dysfunction had occurred. But it was simply reacting to a challenge that no 
shape-changer of its race had ever faced before and, while it was deriving much 
pleasure from the experience, it was not and should not be called a doctor.
In turn, the hospital authorities had insisted, gently but very firmly, that if 
it planned to continue doing that kind of work at Sector General, there was 
nothing else they could call it.
"Sir," said Danalta suddenly, bringing his mind back to present time and space, 
"we've reached the power room. The ambient temperature is unacceptably high for 
an unprotected Earth-human DBDG, but the structure here is robust and less 
likely to collapse on us. You may safely leave the litter. I'm trying reduce my 
emotional radiation. Can you feel the casualty?"
"No," said Prilicla; then immediately contradicted himself.
"Yes."
It was a feeling almost without feeling, a mere expression of individuality and 
existence that was characteristic of an entity very close to termination. It was 
tenuous with extreme weakness or distance or both. Before signaling to move 
farther aft, he looked quickly around the room. It, too, had been cracked open, 
but compared with the wreckage-strewn compartments they had already passed 
through, this one was almost neat except for an untidy heap of tools that looked 
as if they had been thrown haphazardly onto the deck in front of a low, closed 
metal cabinet. Perhaps someone had been urgently in need of shelter.
"In there," he said, pointing and moving quickly towards it. As they forced open 
the cabinet there was a sudden explosion of black, oily vapor from the sponge 
plastic lining that had been melted by the heat, but the casualty's suit was 
still intact so it had not breathed any of the highly toxic gas. Inside they 
found the fourth officer on its knees and bent almost double. Without trying to 
straighten the body they quickly lifted the spacesuited figure onto the litter 
and laid it on its side. Apart from the deep red coloration, the details of the 
face were blurred by internal condensation. The emotional radiation suggested a 
life expec-tancy that could be measured in minutes rather than hours.
Friend Danalta," he said, glancing back at the way they had come,   this 
casualty is close to termination and the temperature here means that we can't 
afford the time or the risk of opening its suit. Please look for a faster way 
out of here. Try to find an opening in the hull large enough to allow the litter 
through so we can ..."
"Doctor," the voice of the captain broke in, "we can make that opening for you, 
as large as you need. I've been monitoring your progress, I'm familiar with the 
ship's layout, and I know exactly where you are. Please move clear of the hull 
on the landward side and hold on to something solid.
"Haslam," he continued quickly, "tractor beam, narrow-focus rapid push-pull to 
the aft hull plating, just there."
The whole power room began to vibrate in sympathy around them as a sudden, 
metallic screeching sound came from a small area of the hull interior. The 
existing cracks in the structure opened up as a large section of plating and 
internal trim was pulled outwards and pressed inwards at a rate of once a 
second. For a moment the plating fluttered like a metal flag in a high wind 
before it was whipped out of sight. Sunlight poured into the compartment and 
with it, a clear, close view of the beach and medical station.
"Thank you, Captain," he said. "Friend Murchison, to save time I'm sending 
friend Danalta with the fourth litter. The canopy will be sealed and the 
cooling system set to maximum in the hope that the reduction in external 
temperature will be conducted to the occupant. The casualty is still inside its 
suit which should be removed as quickly as possible in a less hostile 
environment. I will follow at once to assist you."
"Maybe not at once, Doctor," said Danalta. Its voice was coming from what seemed 
to be a small storage compartment farther aft.
He had been aware of a sudden burst of emotion an instant before the 
shape-changer had spoken. Its feelings were complex, a mixture composed 
predominantly of intense surprise and curiosity. Before Prilicla could ask the 
natural question, Danalta gave the answer.
"Doctor," it said, "there is another casualty here. The physiological 
classification is strange to me but, but I think I've found a stowaway."
CHAPTER 7
The creature appeared to be wearing a spacesuit so close-fitting that it seemed 
highly probable that its general body configuration was identical in size and 
shape to its protective garment. Physically the creature was a flattened ovoid 
with six appendages growing at equal intervals from the perimeter, each 
terminating in long, flexible digits encased in gauntlets that fitted like a 
coat of metallic paint. There was a variety of what looked like specialized 
tools on the fingertips of each of the thin, metal gauntlets. The rounded 
projection on what was presumably the forebody, was almost certainly the 
cranium, but it was covered by sensors rather than a transparent visor so that 
he was unable to obtain a direct view of the facial tegument and features. There 
was a large area of scorching covering the upper surface, or possibly the 
underside, of the body. He couldn't be sure without removing the suit.'What is 
it, Doctor?" said Danalta. "Is it alive?" I m not sure," he replied, and 
indicated the fourth litter. "Move the Earth-human casualty ashore, quickly, and 
assist Murchison and Naydrad with it until I join you or send for an-other 
litter. I'll need this area to be clear of all other sources of emotional 
radiation if I'm to be absolutely sure whether or not is present."
The emoting of Danalta and the Earth-human casualty diminished with distance to 
merge with the faint, background feelings of the medical team and the rest of 
the casualties. Without false modesty Prilicla knew that out of the entire 
Cinrusskin race he possessed one of the most sensitive and analytical empathic 
faculties his planetary history had ever recorded. For several long minutes he 
concentrated on using it.
And found nothing.
His disappointment was severe enough to make his limbs tremble. He knew that he 
was capable of detecting the emotional radiation of every species known to the 
Federation, right down to the tiny, savage feelings of non-sapient insects, but 
this was a thinking member of a new star-traveling species. Perhaps he had 
finally encountered one that thought and felt on a sensory level that was beyond 
his detection range. He was having feelings of personal doubt and inadequacy as 
well as disappointment.
Sometime and somewhere, he told himself as he lifted the scanner and keyed for 
the metal penetration setting, everything has to happen for the first time.
Prilicla moved closer until his head was only a few inches. from the bulbous 
swelling in the protective garment which, in the majority of life-forms, was the 
location of the cranium and the nerve center of the sensory equipment. Slowly 
and carefully he passed the scanner over the area, continuing for several 
minutes to scan with his feelings at ultra-short range while at the same time 
searching with the instrument for clinical signs of life in any underlying 
organic material. He could not believe it when he found neither. He even had 
trouble finding his voice.
"Friend Murchison," he said finally, "I have a casualty here which requires 
further examination. Do you need me there?"
"We do, but not urgently," the pathologist replied. It emitted a sudden burst 
of concern before it brought the feeling under control. "You have been with that 
one for over half an hour. The situation here is that all four casualties have 
been cut free of their suits but there are a few small areas where pieces of 
burned cloth-
ing and charred body tissue are adhering, which will require surgical 
separation. The escharred areas and deeper burn locations where obvious necrosis 
has taken place will need to be trimmed away and the sites covered with 
surrogate skin until proper replacement surgery is available at the hospital. 
Meanwhile, IV nutrients, rehydration, and replacement of lost protein is 
currently under way while the casualties are being supported on cushions of 
cool, sterile air. Their present condition is critical but stable, and one of 
them, the last one you sent to us, is barely on the plus side of terminal. We 
may lose that one. Earth-human vital organs don't take kindly to being 
casseroled in their own juices. But you sound as if you might have another 
casualty for us. Is it a new
boy on the block?"
Prilicla hesitated, then said, "I'm not yet certain whether it is a casualty for 
treatment or a new specimen for postmortem investigation. Certainly I've never 
encountered a life-form like this one before, or seen references to anything 
like it in the literature."
"Sounds interesting," said Murchison, its matter-of-fact tone belying the 
mounting curiosity it was feeling. "When can we see it? Shall I send Naydrad 
with a litter to"
"No," Prilicla broke in. He could feel the other's surprise because normally he 
would never have spoken so sharply to a subordinate. In a gentler voice he went 
on. "I have the feeling that you have the clinical situation under control over 
there. Continue as you are doing, but do nothing else until or unless I tell
YOU otherwise."
"Sir," it said, emoting intense puzzlement. The feeling was being shared and 
reinforced by Naydrad, Danalta, and the officers on Rhabwar who were monitoring 
the images and conversations coming from Terragar. But Prilicla needed answers 
himself before he could try to give them to others, and he had 0 pause for a 
moment to steady his shaking limbs before he could return to the scanner 
examination.
Since he was the only empath present, there was of course
nobody to know of or feel his fear. The minds of the medical team were engaged 
exclusively with their own clinical concerns, but the people on the ambulance 
ship had little more to do than to monitor and observe his actions, and those 
observations would have included the minor and continuing tremor in his limbs. 
Very soon friend Fletcher would deduce the reason for his terror, if it and the 
others hadn't done so already.
They knew as well as he did that the crew of Terragar had sought desperately to 
avoid all contact with their fellow officers and would-be rescuers, and that it 
was a virtual certainty that the entity he was trying to examine was the reason. 
It came as no surprise when the long period of silence was broken hesitantly by 
the captain.
"Doctor," it said. "Possibly this is none of my clinical business, and I'll 
understand if you tell me to shut up in your usual polite fashion, but your 
examination of the alien casualty puzzles me. I've been watching you for the 
past half an hour and have observed that while you began by closely approaching 
but not touching the creature, for reasons that I think we both understand, you 
are now making continuous contact with it. In what way has the situation 
changed? Is the creature no longer a threat to you, and, if so, why is your body 
language suggesting otherwise? And why are you examining every square inch of 
the body surface, including its hands and individual digits which, in my 
layperson's opinion, are not usually the site of life-threatening injuries?"
Prilicla was silent for a moment while he tried to organize the results of his 
examination in a form that would not embarrass him when the recording was played 
back, as it would be many times, by the cultural-contact people.
"I began by assuming that the air inside its suit was one of the 
oxygen-and-inert combinations used by warm-blooded oxygen-breathers, and 
identified the species tentatively as physiological classification CHLI. 
Sub-surface scanner investigation of the suit, and a deeper, detailed 
examination of its content,
revealed the presence of unique technology of a level of complexity that I am 
not qualified to assess. The subsequent forensic investigation suggests that the 
position and sharply defined area of heat damage to the suitthe head section, 
forward pair of limbs, and particularly the attached digits which are literally 
fused togetherwas sustained before, rather than after, the subject was taken on 
board Terragar. The later atmospheric heating effects suffered by the ship had 
no effect on the occupant. No doubt, friend Fletcher, you will wish me to help 
you to make a more thorough investigation at a more convenient time.
"To summarize," he ended, "lifeas we understand the termis no longer present. 
I very much doubt that it ever was." He felt the sudden burst of surprise and 
curiosity from the medical team, but it was on a low level because their 
attention was being concentrated on their Earth-human casualties. The captain's 
emotional radiation was accompanied by words.
"Wait, Doctor," it said. "Do I understand you correctly? Are you saying that the 
subject is a robot of unique and advanced design, and, and that it may be a 
casualty of war?"
"I'm unwilling to speculate on the available evidence, friend Fletcher," 
Prilicla replied, "but judging by the sophistication of design and construction 
in this mechanism, it may even be possible that we have discovered a 
non-organic form of intelligent life. But I advise extreme caution during any 
subsequent examination, because the actions of this creature or others like it 
may be the reason why Terragar was trying so hard to avoid contact with us. We 
won't know more until or unless the ship's officers are able to talk to us.
"Friend Murchison," he added, "I'll be with you in five minutes."
"The sooner the better," he heard Naydrad say. In spite of Murchison's earlier, 
reassuring situation report, he could feel that it was speaking for all of them.
The field medical station was a prefabricated, modular structure designed for 
use at the scene of space construction accidents or planetary disaster-relief 
operations. It comprised a self-contained, multiple-species operating room to 
which recovery wards, medical-staff accommodation, and ancillary equipment could 
be added as required. The OR was already in use and Rhab-war's pressor beams had 
lifted in the less urgently required sections together with a couple of 
general-purpose robots that were busily attaching them as he approached.
As if it were an unconscious emotional preparation for the serious clinical 
problems ahead, a childhood memory of his home world, like a waking dream, came 
flooding back to calm his mind. In those days it had been himself who had been 
assembling brightly-colored structures out of building-blocks on the sand, and 
peopling them with legendary creatures out of his imagination who had strange 
and varied capabilities for performing great deeds of good or evil on those in 
their powershort of ending their lives, that was, because violent death was 
something that even an adult Cinrusskin did not willingly think about. This 
stretch of golden beach could have been the same, as was the green fringe of 
vegetation inland that was too indistinct to appear alien and therefore 
different. But there all similarity ended.
The steep, low-gravity waves of Cinruss had been replaced by the low, smooth 
rollers that peaked and foamed only as they broke in the shallows; and here the 
people inhabiting the bright building blocks were more varied and wonderful than 
anything he could ever have imagined as a child, and death was something that 
they thought about, faced, and, in the majority of their cases, conquered every 
day of their lives.
But not today.
From Murchison and the other team members he felt the sudden burst of sorrow, 
self-criticism, and near anger characteristic of healers who had just lost a 
patient.
CHAPTER 8
When he joined them a few minutes later, Naydrad was moving the deceased 
casualty to an adjoining compartment on a litter with a closed, opaque cover. 
The features of Captain Fletcher looked silently down from the wall 
communicator screen, the fleshy edges of its mouth pressed tightly together and 
its strong feelings tenuous with distance. Two other casualties had been given 
preliminary treatment and were floating above an enclosed, air-cushioned bed 
while Murchison and Dan-alta were working on the remaining one. They were 
concentrating all of their attention on excising the areas of charred tissue 
while covering the less severely affected sections of the body surface with the 
thick, creamlike, clinging medication that had been developed for the treatment 
of DBDG burn cases. It would aid tissue regeneration, deaden pain on the 
patient's return to consciousness, and protect against same-species airborne 
infection. The latter was the reason why it was the pathologist alone who was 
dressed for a full aseptic operational procedure.
Microorganisms that had originated on one planet could not cross the species 
barrier to affect or infect life-forms who had evolved on another. Naydrad felt 
the downdraft from Prilicla's on its uncovered fur and looked up. I'm beginning 
to feel like a redundant limb here," it said,
looking at the newly arrived casualty with feelings of concern and impatience 
ruffling its mind and its fur. "Will I help you to cut off its suit?"
As a specialist in heavy rescue, Naydrad was the hospital's acknowledged expert 
at cutting all shapes and sizes of injured space casualties out of their 
environmental protection and underlying body coverings, if the species 
concerned wore them, without inflicting further damage to the living contents. 
It made no effort to salvage any part of the suit, but instead used its 
highspeed cutter to section the entire surface, leaving it with so many 
connected incisions that the pieces could be peeled away and discarded like the 
shell of a multiply cracked egg. Except in the places where the material and 
underlying skin had fused together into a single, charred mass, the uniform went 
the same way. While it was dealing with those areas, Naydrad positioned the 
patient for him on its frictionless bed of cooling air and began the rehydration 
process. Murchison and Danalta joined them without comment and smoothly took 
over the procedure while he withdrew to hover above the patient.
"How is it, sir?" said Murchison. They both knew that it wasn't asking about the 
patient's physical condition, which was clear to see, but the unseen emotional 
radiation that only he could detect. "Can it withstand major surgery?"
"It is better than I would have expected, and yes," Prilicla replied. "It has 
suffered major trauma and as a result is deeply unconscious, but the emotional 
radiation is characteristic of a being who, unconsciously, is still fighting to 
survive. That situation could change for the worse if we don't operate quickly.
"This patient," he went on for the benefit of the recorders, "took shelter in a 
heavy metal equipment cabinet. It was found in the kneeling position with its 
body folded forward at the waist and steadied by one hand. That hand and its 
lower limbs were in lengthy contact with metal whose heat was^aonducted through 
the suit fabric to the feet and knees so that*these areas have
sustained deep charring that involves the underlying circulatory system, 
muscles, and associated nerve networks. The other two casualties have already 
lost their feet and lower limbs. We may be able to save the hand on this one, 
which seems to have been holding a non-conducting tool to keep it from direct 
contact with the hot metal. Your feelings, friend Murchison, and those of the 
rest of you, indicate that you have come to a decision, but I must ask the 
question verbally.
"Is there general agreement," he ended, "that the lower legs should be removed 
without delay?"
He was aware of their feelings, so there was no real need for them to speak, but 
Murchison, who had its own, peculiarly Earth-human form of empathy, was feeling 
Prilicla's need for support and reassurance.
"Yes," it said firmly.
Before anyone else could reply, there was an interruption in the form of the 
captain clearing its breathing passages. It said, "Much as I dislike watching 
major operative procedures, especially on fellow officers of my own species who 
are personally known to me, I've been forcing myself to do so. The reason is 
that, to my medically untutored mind, and considering the literal hell they went 
through on that ship, it seems to me that there is a strong possibility that 
none of these casualties will survive."
It hesitated for a moment, and he was able to detect distant feelings of 
embarrassment mixed with determination as it went on. "To me the most urgent 
priority here is the gathering of information, knowledge that could be of vital 
importance to a great many beings throughout the Federation. After all, your 
patients were intent on killing themselves, so restoring one of them to a 
condition in which he can tell us why is ..."
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in gently, "your words are giving rise to 
intense feelings of disagreement and anger which the medical team is trying hard 
not to verbalize, and in the present circumstances those words are an unwanted 
distraction. The clinical condition of the three casualties is critical but 
stable, and it is possible that they may not survive, much less regain 
consciousness."
"In that case," the captain said, "why not bring one of them round in case they 
die before they can give us the information we need? It will be tough on the 
person concerned, but they are Monitor Corps, after all, and would be the first 
to understand the priorities in this situation."
For a long moment Prilicla tried hard to reduce the tremor that the other's 
suggestion had caused in his limbs, but succeeded only in keeping his operating 
hands steady. Finally he spoke.
"We will discuss this matter at a more convenient time," he said, without his 
customary politeness. "You may continue to observe, but you will refrain from 
making any further suggestions until the procedure has been completed."
The captain remained silent but watchful during the remainder of the operation, 
and the additional surgery needed on the other two casualties. Prilicla assumed 
that the other was breathing through its nasal openings because never before had 
he seen Earth-human lips pressed so tightly and continuously together. But when 
it was obvious to the layest of laypersons, which the captain was not, that the 
procedures on all three patients was completed, it spoke again.
Dr. Prilicla," said the captain, "we must have a serious talk as soon as 
possible after"
"Captain Fletcher!" Murchison broke in, its words calm and cold and quiet, 
although the feelings that accompanied them shared none of those qualities. "Dr. 
Prilicla has been operating here for nearly two hours, to which must be added 
its rescue time on Terragar. By now a space officer in your position must be 
aware of the physical limitations of the GLNO life-form, including its lack of 
stamina which requires that it rest frequently and often. We're all tired right 
now, and not just the boss ..."
It broke off as the captain raised a hand for silence and said sharply, "I'm 
well aware of my senior medical officer's requirements, and I had been about to 
say that we must talk very seriously as soon as possible after it has rested. 
It may well be that the situation we have here transcends any considerations of 
medical ethics. Sleep well, Doctor."
After a final check of the patients' monitors, Murchison, Naydrad, and himself 
retired, leaving Danalta on watch. In the shape-changer's utterly savage 
home-planet environment, all life-forms who required regular periods of 
unconsciousness to recharge their organic batteries had not survived their 
unsleeping natural enemies to develop intelligence, so remaining awake was no 
hardship for it. In the present situation it extruded an eye and a large, 
sensitive ear which it kept trained on the patient monitors. There were times 
when Prilicla almost envied the unsleeping Danalta, but not often, because 
normally he needed and welcomed those periods of non-thinking and non-feeling 
when he did not have to empathize with anything or anybody.
When Cinrusskins slept, there was an external sensory shutdown. Neither loud 
noises nor bright lights nor the most acrid of smells would awaken them. Only a 
sharp, physical stimulus or the close presence of a source of danger, a legacy 
of his own prehistoric past, could do that. Even Cinrusskin dreams were brief, 
being nothing more than a few subjective seconds of bright, confused imagery 
from the recently experienced past or, as some of the more unorthodox Healers of 
the Mind argued, from possible futures. They were nothing more than the steeply 
shelving shallows at each end of a journey across the ocean of sleep.
In the fleeting dream before awakening he had been examining the non-organic 
casualty on Terragar again, but this time he was working in a thick, unseen 
cloud of anxiety and there was a pair of Earth-human hands assisting him. He 
dismissed the dream as another meaningless and random discharge of un--onscious 
brain activity, chose a favorite breakfast from his food ispenser, then spent a 
few moments on the improvement of his Appearance. He used an aromatic sponge to 
oil and polish his
head, thorax, exoskeleton, and limbs, even though he knew that nobody on the 
ship would notice any difference, before he contacted the casualty deck. 
Danalta reported that all three patients were in a stable and clinically 
satisfactory condition, and that they remained deeply unconscious with the 
monitors registering a slight but continuing improvement in life signs. 
Prilicla's empathic readings gave confirmation. Murchison and Naydrad were 
still in their quarters and emitting the emotional radiation characteristic of 
deep and undisturbed sleep. He decided to leave them in that condition, and face 
the coming confrontation with the captain without their moral supportalways 
bearing in mind, he reminded himself dryly as he pressed the communicator stud, 
that for a Cinrusskin a very gentle and flattering attack was the best form of 
defense.
"Friend Fletcher," he began as the other's face appeared on his screen, "you 
displayed great sensitivity, understanding and kindness in allowing me to rest 
my fragile body and mind before discussing your own urgent concerns. But before 
we do so, you will be pleased to know that the clinical condition of the three 
injured officers is stable and their prognoses give grounds for guarded 
optimism. At present they are deeply unconscious and are likely to remain in 
that condition for many hours, perhaps up to few days. Following massive trauma 
that stops short of termination, you Earth-human DBDGs have a great capacity for 
physical and psychological recuperation, and in the present situation it is the 
mental aspect which must be given consideration if useful information is to be 
obtained from them.
"However," he continued quickly, "should an attempt be made to revive one of 
them prematurely, the consequent withdrawal of their anesthetic medication 
would have two effects. The sudden return to high levels of pain, combined with 
the medication-induced mental confusion, would render the necessarily short 
conversation with them, especially any specific, technical information they 
might try to give you during questioning, of doubtful value. As well, the 
general shock to their
systems might cause them to terminate before they were able to produce 
sense-bearing sounds.
"Other than the clinical condition of my patients, friend Fletcher," he ended, 
"was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?"
The captain remained silent for a long moment, then he heard it give a long 
sigh. Even though the emotional range was extreme, he could almost feel the 
disappointment that accompanied it.
"Dr. Prilicla," it said finally, "my primary need is for information regarding 
the reasons for the earlier abnormal behavior of your patients. You've 
effectively closed the first and most obvious source by pulling medical rank on 
me, for which we are all relieved. But I still need that information, urgently. 
Can you suggest another source?"
This time it was Prilicla's turn to be silent.
"Perhaps you are not yet mentally awake, Doctor," it went on. "Let me remind you 
that we're here in answer to three distress calls. Two of them may or may not 
have been due to the discharge of weapons by or at the alien ship, and the third 
was a standard subspace distress beacon released by Terragar which was later 
augmented by what seemed to be hand-signaled warnings to stay clear of the 
alien vessel. As the ambulance ship in attendance, Rhabwar is expected to report 
on the disaster and the action being taken to deal with it, or to request and 
specify the help needed if we are incapable of handling the problem ourselves. 
For technical reasons, that report will be necessarily brief, even terse, but it 
must contain the essential information ..."
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in gently, "I am fully aware the problems and 
shortcomings inherent in subspace radio communication and, considering my long 
service as Rhabwar 's -nior medical officer, it is impolite of you to suggest 
otherwise. But if you are truly feeling concerned, I can assure you that I am 
Physically rested and mentally alert."
"Sorry, Doctor," said the captain, "I was being sarcastic. The point I'm making 
is that twenty-one standard hours have passed since we arrived and no situation 
report signal has gone off because, frankly, I have nothing to say about it 
that makes sense even to me. But I have to say something or they will send 
another ship, or, more likely, warships, to find out what happened to us, and 
that ship or ships might also suffer the same fate as Terragar. That damage by 
beings unknown could be construed as a hostile act and we might have the 
beginnings of a warpardon me, police operationagainst the same persons 
unknown."
It took a deep breath and in a calmer voice went on. "I still need solid 
information, no matter how sparse, if for no other reason than to support my 
intended action of placing all three of the ships involved in indefinite 
quarantine. The reasons must be credible; otherwise our authorities might think 
that we have been so affected by the situation that we must be considered 
psychologically suspect, in which case they will send another ship anyway. But 
other than telling them to stay away from us, what can I say? Have you a 
suggestion, Doctor? I hope."
"I have, friend Fletcher," Prilicla replied, thinking how good it felt to be in 
possession of a clear mind in a rested body. "But it may involve a small 
personal risk for you."
"If the risk is warranted," said the captain impatiently, "the size is 
unimportant. Go on."
Prilicla went on. "Until I know the exact nature of the threat, infection, or 
whatever that seems to have been picked up by Terragar, I have asked that 
Rhabwar remain separated from the medical team. That stricture still holds, but 
I may have been a little overcautious because none of the team suffered any 
detectable ill effects as a result of our brief visit to the ship, nor myself 
from my examination of the damaged life-form found on board. I feel sure that, 
provided the normal safety precautions are taken and we subject ourselves to 
external sterilization procedures before and after the visit, we could conduct 
a forensic examination of the wreck in safety. Whatever the damage inflicted by 
the alien
hip, or by that life-form found on board, it must have left some evidence of the 
kind of weapon usedenough, perhaps, to complete your report. And the quality 
of the information could well be better than that supplied by a semiconscious 
casualty in intense pain. Do you have any comments, friend Fletcher?"
The captain nodded and showed its teeth. "Three of them," it said. "The first is 
that you should rest and clear your body and mind more often. The second and 
third are, how soon can we meet, and where?"
Less than an hour later Prilicla was watching the captain's Earth-human hands 
beside his as they began the reexamination of the strange life-form, and 
suddenly he remembered his odd waking dream. He was about to mention it, then 
had second thoughts. The captain was not the sort of person with whom one 
discussed one's dreams.
CHAPTER 9
Murchison reported that the condition of the three casualties remained stable, 
and asked permission to go along to assist with the forensic examination. It had 
insisted that as an other-species pathologist its field covered all forms of 
intelligent life, and not just the organic variety. Prilicla had heard few lamer 
excuses for satisfying professional curiosity, which in Murchi-son's case was 
every bit as intense as that of the captain and himself, but he had agreed. 
Murchison was his principal assistant and the person most likely to inherit the 
senior medical officer's position on Rhabwarand besides, he was curious to see 
how it dealt with a totally new situation.
That was why most of the talking was being done into the recorder by Captain 
Fletcher, with Murchison making an occasional interjection, while Prilicla 
spent long periods saying nothing at all. Following a meticulous examination 
with the special scanner provided by Lieutenant Chena scanner normally used to 
detect obscure symptoms deep inside ailing machinerythe captain straightened 
up, placed the instrument gently on the deck, and spoke with feelings of 
excitement and enthusiasm.
"This creature, entity, artifact, or whatever," it said, "displays a degree of 
design and structural sophistication well beyond
the Federation's present capabilitiesif it was, in fact, built by anyone or 
anything but itself. The internal circuitry and actuator mechanisms are so 
incredibly fine and intricate that at first I couldn't recognize them for what 
they are. This thing wasn't just put together by watchmakers but by the 
mechanical equivalent of a microsurgery team. I've traced several of the 
peripheral nerve networks to a processing area in the central body which seems 
to house the brain and heart equivalents. I can't be sure of this because that 
location has been damaged and the contents fused by the heat and radiation 
discharge that destroyed the creature. The sensory circuits underlying the 
surface in the same area have also been burned out, probably by the same agency, 
which may or may not have been a wide-focus heat weapon of some kind. "But there 
is clear evidence throughout the whole body," it went on, "of a highly developed 
self-repair capability of apparently indefinite duration. Until it sustained 
that blast injury, this thing would have been capable of regeneration and 
growth. Any organism that can do that is technically alive."
Prilicla had a question but Murchison asked it for him. Quickly it said, "Are 
you sure that your subject isn't alive now?" "Don't worry, ma'am," the captain 
replied. "How sure would you be if your subject's brain and heart had been 
burned to a crisp? Besides, its musclesI mean its actuator linkages are 
designed for light, precise work and are not all that robust. Physically it 
would not represent a serious threat"it smiled "except possibly to Dr. 
Prilicla."
Murchison returned the other's smile, because practically everything larger than 
an Earth kitten was a serious threat to Prilicla.
Something else is worrying me," Murchison said, "I watched your internal scanner 
examination, Captain, and saw that the subject's body is solidly packed with 
circuitry, metal musculature, and sensory receptors. But why is it that 
particular shape?"
Fletcher remained silent, radiating the confusion and impatience characteristic 
of a mind that had been expecting a different question.
"Robotics isn't my specialty," Murchison went on, "but isn't it usual for one to 
be mechanically more functional? I mean, shouldn't it basically be a box with 
locomotor appendages simpler and more versatile than the six limbs we are 
seeing here; with a variety of specialized manipulators sprouting out of the 
body without regard to aesthetic balance; and with all-around visual sensors 
instead of just two in the head section? If this thing had been normally organic 
we would classify it as a CHLI. Rather than adopting a functional robotic shape, 
it seems clear that this body configuration is decidedly organimorphic. My 
question is, why would a non-organic intelligence copy itself on a CHLI?"
"Sorry, ma'am," the captain replied, looking and feeling apologetic. "I have no 
answers, just a wild guess."
Murchison nodded and said, "Which is?"
The captain hesitated, then said, "This isn't my field, either. But think about 
the evolution of an organic life-form as opposed to that of an intelligent 
machine. Ignoring the religious perspective, the first begins as an accidental 
grouping of simple, cellular forms which takes several millions of years of 
environmental adaptation with other competing species to become the dominant 
intelligence. The second doesn't do anything like that because, no matter how 
long it is given, a simple tool like a monkey wrench can never evolve through 
the intermediate stage of a lawn mower to become a superintelligent computer, at 
least, not without outside help. That simple tool has to be created by someone 
in the first place, and at some later stage the creator has to provide the 
machine with self-awareness and intelligence. Only then would there be the 
possibility of further self-evolution.
"I'm speculating, of course," the captain went on, "but a further possibility is 
that the beings who first bestowed on their machines the gift of self-aware, 
intelligent life are a permanent part of their racial memoryor inherited 
designand that they made, or in gratitude made the choice to remain, in their 
CHLI creators' image."
"In your opinion, friend Fletcher," Prilicla asked, "would this entity have been 
capable of disabling a starship?"
"No, Doctor," the captain replied firmly. "At least, not directly. Although 
composed of metal with plastic-insulated circuitry, the appendages were 
designed for precise and delicate work rather than hard labor or fighting, 
although there would have been nothing to stop it using those digits, as we 
DBDGs have been known to do, to operate a variety of destructive weapons. I'll 
be looking for anything like that when I'm searching the ship. All the evidence 
points to our robot friend being dead on arrival, and the type of heat and blast 
injuries it sustained were too unfocused to be caused by a Corps hand-weapon.
"And now," it went on, looking at the opened seams in the hull plating of the 
ship all around them, "I have to examine the body of a larger, metal cadaver, 
one that is more familiar to me."
Prilicla used his antigravity belt to move outside and fly forward to the 
control deck while Murchison stayed with the captain, both to satisfy its 
curiosity and to help move aside troublesome debris. There was minimal risk 
because both of them were experienced in negotiating ship wreckage, and he was 
pleased that neither their voices in his headset nor their feelings indicated 
that they were taking risks.
When they rejoined him, the two crescents of facial fur oove the captain's eyes, 
and its emotional radiation, were indicating extreme puzzlement.                 
                                 / '
I don't understand this," it said, gesturing aft. "Discounting the effects of 
atmospheric heating and buffeting on the hull the way down, the ship's systems 
and linkagespower, guidance life supportare all in pretty good mechanical 
order. Why should one of the officers have had to go aft to operate the main 
thrusters on  manual? But that is what he did, and the answer has to be here 
somewhere in control."
"Including, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "the reason why the casualties 
wanted us to stay away from their ship?"
"That, too, Doctor," it replied. "And thank you for the reminder and gentle 
warning, which I'm pretty sure is unnecessary. Pathologist Murchison reported 
earlier that, apart from their severe burn trauma, there is nothing clinically 
abnormal about the patients' condition. On the way here she also told me that 
the only microbes present were the usual harmless, Earth-human bugs that came on 
board with them and were trapped in the air-circulation system, plus a few 
airborne varieties native to this world which cannot cross the planetary species 
barrier and so need not concern us.
"I agree with everyone exercising a high degree of caution," it went on, its 
feelings if not its voice registering impatience, "but surely it is no longer 
necessary to wear sealed suits, or for your team to continue working in an 
isolated, prefabricated unit with limited facilities rather than on Rhabwar's 
casualty deck. There is nothing to threaten us here."
"It must be nice," said Murchison, radiating sarcasm, "to feel so sure of 
yourself."
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla said quickly, in an attempt to reduce its growing 
irritation and head off a possible exchange of verbal violence, "no doubt you 
are quite right in everything you've said, but I, for physiological reasons that 
have made my people a species of arrant cowards, am extremely cautious. Please 
humor me."
The captain nodded and its feelings once again became calmly analytical as it 
began its examination of the damaged control consoles around them. It trained 
the vision pickup on each and every item and discussed its observations for the 
recorders. Apart from a few minutes checking with Naydrad on the condition of 
the casualties, they watched in silence the progress of a technically-oriented 
postmortem as painstakingly thorough as any the pathologist had performed on 
organic cadavers. Prilicla had always derived pleasure from watching an expert 
at work,
and he knew that his feelings of appreciation and admiration ere being shared by 
Murchison. But finally the work was done and the captain was staring at them 
with an expression and emotions that could only be described as a large and 
perplexed question mark.
"This doesn't make sense," it said. "The main and secondary computer systems are 
down. That shouldn't happen. They are strongly encased, protected physically and 
electronically in case of damage during a major malfunction or collision. They 
perform the function of the black boxes in atmosphere craft so that, in the 
event of an accident, the investigators have some idea of what went wrong. But 
there was nothing structurally wrong with Ter-ragar except that all its 
computers are dead, or as good as. This is ridiculous. With all our fail-safe 
systems and protective devices,
that should not have happened-----"
It broke off for a moment, then with a sudden burst of emotion intense enough to 
make Prilicla tremble it said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"We're not telepaths, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently. "You'll have to 
tell us what you're thinking."
"I'd rather not tell you anything just yet," said the captain, 'in case I'd be 
making a complete fool of myself." It reached into its equipment satchel and 
indicated one of the consoles whose plastic trim was only slightly 
heat-discolored. "There may still be some life left in that one. Instead of 
talking to you, maybe I'll be able to demonstrate my idea with this tester. The 
instrument has a small screen so you'll have to move closer. But don't touch it, 
or allow any of your equipment to make contact with it. That is very important. 
Do you understood?"
"We understand, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "We think," Murchison added.
With the pathologist's feeling of bewilderment matching his own they watched in 
silence as the captain expertly removed the console cover to lay bare the 
underlying circuitry. Then with a magnetic clamp it attached the tester to a 
convenient bulkhead, activated the display screen, unreeled one of the device's 
many probes, and went slowly and carefully to work. If it had been a sick 
patient rather than a malfunctioning machine, Prilicla thought, the other's 
movements could not have been more delicate or precise.
Many minutes passed while the display screen remained lit but blank, then 
suddenly it flickered and a schematic diagram appeared. The captain bent closer, 
excitement diluting its intense concentration.
"I'm into the ship's main computer now," it said, "and there's something there. 
But I don't recognize the ... What the hell!"
The image was breaking up and generating random, geometrical lines and shapes 
that were drifting off the four edges of the screen until all that remained was 
an expanse of sparkling white noise. The captain swore and jabbed at several of 
its control studs without result. Even the green POWER ON light was dead.
The type and intensity of the captain's emotional radiation was beginning to 
worry Prilicla. He said, "Something has happened, friend Fletcher. What is 
troubling you?"
"My tester just died," said the captain. Suddenly it grabbed the instrument in 
both hands, raised it high above its head and slammed it downwards with all of 
its strength against the deck before adding, "And I was expecting it to happen, 
dammit!"
"Temper, Captain," said Murchison, radiating irritation and surprise as it bent 
down to pick up the remains of the device.
"No!" said Fletcher urgently. "Stay away from it. Probably there's no physical 
danger to yourselves because it's dead, defunct. But don't touch it until we 
know the technical reason for what happened here."
"Which was what?" said Prilicla.
He spoke very gently because the other's feelings were confused, fearful, 
excited, and radiating all over the emotional spectrum. It was an unprecedented 
mental condition for the usually calm and imperturbable captain to display. 
Murchison's feeling irritation at the other's brusque manner was being replaced 
by the. clinical calm of a physician towards someone who might shortly become a 
patient. But before the captain could reply, there was an interruption from 
Naydrad speaking on their headsets.
"Dr. Prilicla," it said. "One of the casualties, the last one you brought in, 
has returned to partial consciousness. Judging by its manner, it was the ship's 
commanding officer. It is greatly agitated, its speech is slurred and 
unintelligible, and, in spite of being immobilized, it is fighting all attempts 
at administering further sedative shots. The self-inflicted additional trauma is 
causing a marked deterioration in its clinical condition. If we patch you 
through, will you speak to it? Or better still, come back here and try your 
projective empathy on its mind?"
While the charge nurse was speaking, Prilicla had been trying not to tremble at 
the thought of what the severely burned and prematurely conscious patient was 
doing to itself. He said, "Of course, friend Naydrad. I'll talk to it now and 
while I'm flying back to join you. If it is Terragar's captain, then Rhabwar 
will have its family and personal names on file. Quickly, please, find out what 
they are. Using them in conversation will help reassure it, but I'll speak to it 
now."
"No," said Fletcher. "I know his name. Let me talk to him."
He felt Murchison's earlier calm disappear in an uncharacteristic flare of 
anger as it said, "What the hell's got into you, Captain? This is a clinical 
matter. It is definitely not in your area of expertise."
Both of their faces were showing the reddening of temporarily elevated blood 
pressure, but the anger of the captain was being overlaid by feelings of 
increasing certainty as it said, "Sorry, ma'am. In this case it is, because 
right now I'm the only one here who knows what happened."
CHAPTER 10
The captain was not allowing the intense sympathy and concern it was feeling to 
affect the calm, unemotional tone of its voice as it spoke via the communicator 
screen to the patient, but considering the urgency of the situation, Prilicla 
thought that friend Fletcher's long-range bedside manner was very good.
"Captain Davidson, George," it began. "This is Don Fletcher, Rhabwar. We were 
able to land your ship, cool it in the sea, and recover your crew. Apart from 
the burn injuries, which ire severe, you are in no immediate danger, andplease 
believe meneither are we.. . ."
No sentient creature, Prilicla thought as an uncontrollable tremor shook his 
body, should ever have to suffer such an intensity of pain, much less have to 
fight through it in an attempt to produce coherent words. The captain's voice 
remained steady but its normally pink, Earth-human face had paled to a bloodless 
yellow-grey.
"George," it went on, "please stop threshing about in that litter and trying to 
fight your medication, and most of all, stop trying to talk. Believe me, we know 
what is troubling you and what you're trying to warn us about, and we appreciate 
the effort. But right now you must relax and just listen to me...."
Captain Davidson was still trying desperately to talk rather, listen, but its 
words lacked coherency even to the listeners of its own species who did not need 
translators. The high levels of pain and fear and urgency it was feeling had not 
diminished.
". . We received and understood the hand signals and emotional radiation from 
your control canopy," the captain went on, with a nod towards Prilicla, "and at 
no time was direct physical contact made by Rhabwar either with Terragar or the 
alien ship, and that situation will continue until the threat is fully 
understood. In the meantime Rhabwar has been positioned at a safe distance 
along the beach from this medical station that we have deployed to treat your 
survivors, and the remains of your ship are also at a safe distance from both. 
Following the recovery of your casualties, Terragar was boarded again and your 
ship interior and the remains of the alien robot we found on board were 
thoroughly investigated. As a result we know the reason for your desperate and 
apparently suicidal attempts to avoid contact with our own ship. We deeply 
appreciate what you were trying to do and tell us, but now we have received the 
message and probably know more about the threat from that alien ship than you 
do."
Prilicla detected the change in emotional radiation several seconds before 
Danalta spoke.
"The patient's struggles have diminished slightly," the shape-changer reported 
quietly without looking up from the patient. "It is no longer trying to speak, 
but the monitor indicates continued muscular tension and elevated blood 
pressure. You are getting through to it, Captain. I don't understand one word of 
your explanation, but for the patient's sake, keep on talking." From the 
evidence so far uncovered," Fletcher went on, ignoring the compliment and at the 
same time trying to reduce Danalta's level of ignorance, "I would say that the 
robot was floating free outside the other ship's hull and you recovered it 
hoping that it might be a survivor or, if not, that it would at least give  you 
some idea of the form of life you were trying to rescue. When they didn't 
respond to your radio signals, you sent across contact-sensor plate and 
connecting cable which you attached magnetically to the hull, hoping that it 
would be able to detect life signs or movements that your computer would be able 
to process to give the exact locations. But it was the direct cable connection 
between the sensor plate and your computer that wrecked Terragar, In short, 
George, that alien vessel doesn't affect or infect living people, it kills 
ships. It also infects, disables, or kills any lesser form of 
computer-controlled device that comes into contact with it.
"You turned up an alien hot potato this time, George," the captain ended softly, 
"but now it's our problem. So just relax, go back to sleep, and let us worry 
about it."
Several minutes passed without anyone speaking. From the medical team Prilicla 
detected feelings of surprise, curiosity, and excitement caused by Fletcher's 
explanation, while Captain Davidson's emotional radiation was that of a mind 
that was slipping back into unconsciousness.
"The patient is again responding to the sedative medication," he said, "and its 
life signs are stabilizing. Thank you, friend Fletcher."
"Yes, indeed," said Murchison, radiating relief and gratitude. "That was very 
well done, Captain." It looked at the broken test device lying on the deck and 
added, "Now we know why you lost your temper and trashed that thing. I'd 
probably have done the same."
Prilicla was feeling friend Fletcher's gratitude and pleasure at the 
compliments, as well as its increasing embarrassment. He said, "Have you enough 
information now to send your subspace signal?"
"On the Terragar situation, yes," the captain replied. "But I'd like to make the 
report as informative as possible. We have to go into space to send it, so I 
want to take a closer look at that alien ship before I do. Don't worry, I won't 
make direct contact or do anything stupid like deploying another sensor 
connection cable. Rhabwar will be back in three to four hours. And Doctor,
'I1 be visiting a hunk of sick machinery so there will be no need for a medical 
presence."
"There is, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently. "You are visiting a ship 
disaster situation and, regardless of the type or condition of the casualties, 
as the senior medical officer I should be there. About this I must insist."
Before any of his team could voice their objections, which were based 
principally on concern for his safety, he went on. "Don't worry, I shall take no 
unnecessary risks nor allow friend Fletcher to do so. Are there any 
decontamination procedures you can suggest before I transfer to Rhabwart"
Murchison and Fletcher looked at each other for a moment while their feelings 
changed from concern to a grudging acceptance of the inevitable.
"The usual organic decontamination drill at the airlock," said the captain, 
"which is almost certainly unnecessary, but I don't believe in taking chances, 
either...." It gestured towards the tester lying on the deck. "... And, of 
course, don't bring any computer viruses on board."
Even though the alien vessel was clean, bright, shining, and highly 
streamlineda clear indication that it had taken off from a planetary surface 
rather than being assembled in spaceamong themselves, Rhabwar' s officers were 
calling it the Plague Ship. As a vessel crewed by robots it was probably as 
clean inside as it was out, Prilicla thought as he watched the image enlarge 
beyond the edges of his viewscreen, but then they were not talking about that 
sort of plague.
They moved in to a distance of two hundred meters and began a series of slow 
circles around its longitudinal axis. At close range, the only blemishes visible 
on the sleek hull were the two
small craters with the heat discoloration around them and an open access hatch 
cover with heat-damaged equipment of some kind Projecting from it.
"There's something odd about that hull damage," said the captain. "I would like 
a closer look at it, or better still, a hands-on examination. I'm thinking 
aloud, you understand, but what if I was to go over there in a lightweight suit, 
and didn't touch it with any computerized test equipment, and even retracted the 
suit antenna to reduce the risk of making metal-to-metal contact with the hull? 
It would also mean not carrying a weapon, but that is normal practice in a 
first-contact situation. At this short range I wouldn't need the antenna, and as 
an added precaution I could wear non-conducting gauntlets, and insulated covers 
for the boots, during the ..."
"Pardon the interruption, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla quietly, "but I feel 
you radiating intense curiosity. I have similar feelings and would like a closer 
look, too. Admittedly the contamination we would be investigating is 
non-organic, but the presence of a medical advisor could be an advantage."
The other radiated indecision for a moment, then it made the soft, barking sound 
that Earth-humans called laughter and said, "Right. But I have the feeling that 
if Pathologist Murchison had been here she would give you an argument about 
that, as well as subjecting me to a great deal of verbal abuse for allowing you 
to take the risk. Chen?"
"Sir," replied the engineering officer. "We intend closing to a distance of 
twenty meters, very slowly," Fletcher went on. "Be ready to pull us out again 
faster than that."
By the time Fletcher and himself had suited-up and flown clear of Rhabwar's 
personnel lock, Prilicla had had time for many second thoughts and had foolishly 
discarded all of them. It was not always an advantage to carry Educator tapes 
whose donors were less cowardly than himself, especially when he allowed them to 
influence his own thinking. The alien vessel was now rolling ponderously at a 
distance of about thirty meters, but no attempt had been made to kill its spin 
because the tractor beam might have furnished an avenue for electronic 
infection. As they com-
pensated for its movement with their suit thrusters, it felt as if they were 
tiny insects sandwiched between the vast white wall that was the ambulance 
ship's hull and the silvery surface of the alien vessel, with a broad, circular 
band that was divided into star-sprinkled space above and the mottled carpet of 
the planetary cloud blanket below them.
They used their suit thrusters to bring themselves to a halt within three meters 
of the open hatch cover. After a moment's hesitation, Fletcher edged closer and 
one of its hands made fleeting contact with the metal projection, then gripped 
it firmly in both.
"No harmful effects noted," it said for the benefit of the recorders.
"The mechanism projecting from the small compartment behind the hatch cover," it 
went on, "appears to be a simple, extendible metal arm with a hinged outer 
section that is capable of rotation horizontally and vertically through one 
hundred and eighty degrees, and there is a gripping mechanism at its extremity. 
It has the appearance of being an unsophisticated device used for placing in 
position on, or removing objects from, the external hull. There is evidence of 
scorch damage...."
While the captain continued to describe in meticulous detail everything it was 
seeing and thinking, Prilicla waited until the slow, rolling motion of the 
vessel caused them to move close to the cratered area. With small, precisely 
timed bursts of thruster power he maintained position about two meters above 
them. He was not a forensics expert, but his visual acuity was exceptionally 
good and the type of damage he was seeing, although probably caused by the same 
agency, displayed a major inconsistency in its effect.
The first crater showed a normal, circular depression whose depth was 
approximately half of its diameter and with the interior and lip edges 
compressed and fused by the explosive pressure of a high-temperature blast of 
some kind, but the second one was entirely different. It had a shallower, 
ringlike formation with an area at its center that showed pressure but minimal 
heat damage. Deep scratches covering the area with what looked like small 
traces of silvery metal were adhering to some of them. Even though he was 
trusting to visual observation alone, Prilicla was sure that the metals of the 
hull and of that adhering to the scratches were markedly dissimilar. He edged 
closer to make absolutely sure before he spoke. "Friend Fletcher," he said, 
"there is something very odd here that I would like you to see." "The 
compartment behind this access hatch looks very odd, too," said the captain. It 
moved to join him and looked in the direction of his pointing digit for a moment 
before it added, "But you first, Doctor. What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"The difference in the extent and depth of the damage at this and the other 
crater," he said. "You can see that this crater is shallower than the first one 
and, while the perimeter of this one has been fused by intense heat, the central 
area has been depressed but is not as badly burned. There is deep scratching 
that contains small traces of a brighter metal that is foreign to the 
surrounding hull. It looks as if a large, fairly smooth metal object made heavy 
contact at this spot. Friend Fletcher, the size and outline of the unburned area 
are suggestive."
"You've got organic microscopes there instead of eyes, Doctor," it said. "But 
suggestive of what? I'm seeing what you're seeing, with great difficulty, but 
what should I be thinking about it?"
"Your pardon, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "I cannot be absolutely certain 
without analyzing a specimen for purposes of comparison, but the traces of 
foreign metal you see suggests that this is where the alien robot we found on 
Terragar sustained its injuries orsince it was not an organic life-formdamage. 
The weapon or other agency which blew a crater in the front of its body, also 
blasted it backwards against the hull with the results you can see. Perhaps it 
was trying to protect its ship from something, or someone. If the crew were 
defenders rather than at-
tackers their lethal assault on Terragar's computer systems may have been due to 
a panic reaction following an earlier attack as ell as a simple, first-contact 
misunderstanding."
"You could be right," said the captain, "but I think you're giving them the 
benefit of a very large doubt-----" It reached towards the equipment satchel at 
its waist. "Grab my backpack and use your thrusters to hold me steady while I 
scrape off a specimen."
"Friend Fletcher ... !"
"Don't worry, Doctor," said the other, radiating reassurance as it produced a 
short, broad-bladed screwdriver. "This thing is too simple and stupid to be 
infected by a computer virus.... Oops. That's strange."
While it had been scraping hard to remove the largest of the specimens, the 
tool's sharp blade had penetrated the hull and torn out a narrow triangle of 
metal. It was surprisingly thin, structurally weak, and its underside was 
covered by the fine, geometrical shapes of integral circuitry. When it had 
bagged the original specimen, Fletcher removed the hull sample and placed it in 
an insulated box as a precaution against possible electronic infection. The 
captain's accompanying feelings of impatience and barely controlled excitement 
suggested that it would rather be doing something else.
"I feel that you, too, have found something interesting, friend Fletcher," said 
Prilicla. "What is it?"
'I don't know," the other replied. It secured the two specimens in its sample 
box before going on. "I had time for a quick look into what seems to be a long, 
thin and apparently empty compartment or corridor behind the access hatch. It 
would be easier to show you, Doctor. There's enough room for both of us, and 
your extra helmet light will help us see whatever is in there, and, if 
necessary, make a fast retreat."
CHAPTER 11
Their lights showed a length of corridor leading inboard whose walls, except for 
a large cylindrical structure on one side that was enclosed by seamless metal 
plating that was warped and heat-discolored, were composed of a lightly-built, 
boxlike framework that appeared to be non-metallic. Continuous lengths of 
open-mesh netting were secured to and stretched tightly along all four inner 
surfaces of the framework and, about thirty meters inboard, a similar netted 
passageway intersected theirs at right angles. When the captain's foot caught 
accidentally in the netting, the whole corridor vibrated for a moment before 
returning to stillness.
"That wall netting tells us one important fact about their level of technology," 
said Fletcher, for the benefit of the recorder as well as Prilicla. "They don't 
have artificial gravity. And look at the internal supporting structure of the 
hull. It reminds me of the interior of one of Earth's old-time zeppelinsit's 
just a light framework on which to hang a streamlined skin that will aid passage 
through a planetary atmosphere."
"A skin," Prilicla reminded it gently, "that your second specimen suggests could 
be one single, overall, multipurpose sensor.
"Yes, indeed," Fletcher said. It pointed at the warped metal Under near them and 
went on. "I want to take a closer look at that later. From its size and shape 
I'd say that it houses one of a air of matched hyperdrive generators which 
malfunctioned, either by accident or through malicious intent, and caused them 
to detonate a distress beacon."
Fletcher moved its vision pickup carefully so as to sight it inboard between the 
open mesh of the net. Prilicla pointed his helmet light in the same direction.
"Several more enclosed structures are visible," it resumed. "All are 
solidly-built, some with complicated shapes and many projections which badly 
needed that streamlined outer hull. They appear to be joined to each other by a 
latticework of structural-support members. All of the ones we can see are linked 
together externally by short stretches of open-weave corridors like this one. 
But our point of entry, which may not be the only one, was by a simple, 
close-fitting, hinged cover that appears to allow access deep into the entire 
ship. It was not a pressurized seal, and nowhere can we see anything like an 
airlock.
"But then," the captain added, allowing itself a small bark, 'a crew of 
intelligent robots wouldn't need air.
"There is no obvious threat here at present," it went on, "so I shall continue 
the investigation deeper inside the ship. In case of unforeseen developments, 
Doctor, would you like to remain here so that you can make a fast getaway?"
Prilicla was silent for a moment while common sense and 18 evolutionary 
imperative of survival through cowardice warred with the intensity of his 
curiosity, and lost.
"I would like to remain here," he said, "but I won't. Lead the way."
The captain didn't reply but its feelings regarding such stu-Pi behavior were 
very plain.
Slowly and carefully and with many pauses while Fletcher directed its vision 
pickup at objects that might or might not be of importance, they continued to 
move inboard while Fletcher described everything it saw and deduced in its flat, 
unemotional, observer's voice.
Their helmet lights showed many cable looms running along the members that 
joined the large and small structures and mechanisms that were coming into view. 
Some of the cable runs were attached to the outer framework of the passages 
they were traversing, and clearly visible. The individual lengths were 
color-coded, their graduation in coloration and shading suggesting that the 
visual sensitivity of the ship's crew was slightly higher than that of 
Prilicla's Earth-human companion, but lower than his own. When they drew level 
with a large, blocky mechanism of indeterminate purpose with what was obviously 
a control panel and two access hatches on it, the captain's curiosity became so 
intense that Prilicla felt obliged to issue a warning.
"No, friend Fletcher," he said. "Look but don't touch."
"I know, I know," it replied with a flash of irritation. "But how else can I 
find out what it is and does? I can't believe that these peoplerobots or 
whateverwould plant a virus to booby-trap every internal control panel and 
hatch. That wouldn't make sense. It would lead to a lot of unnecessary accidents 
among the crew."
"The robot crew," said Prilicla, "should be resistant to their ship's computer 
viruses."
"Good point," said the captain. "But so far there has been no sign of them. Are 
they in their quarters? If so, what would the accommodations for a crew of 
robots look like?"
It didn't speak again until they came to the next intersection, a T-junction 
leading into a passageway that led fore and aft to the limit of visibility 
provided by their helmet lights. The support frames carried what seemed like 
hundreds of differently-coded cable runs and the new passageway was obviously a 
main trunk route for crew members, but it was no wider or deeper then any of the 
others they had encountered.
That suggested infrequent traffic, Prilicla thought, or a small crew.
"We have to find out what this ship can do," said the captain suddenly, "apart 
from simply killing other ships. For our own defense we must learn and 
understand its weapons capability and, if possible, that of its attacker. Next 
time I'll bring something more intelligent than a screwdriver. A radiation 
sensor, perhaps, that will work without being in direct contact with the target
object----"
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in, "would you please be silent and absolutely 
still?"
The captain opened its mouth and shut it again without speaking. As it waited 
motionless, the curiosity, puzzlement, and increasing anxiety it was radiating 
hung about it like a thick fog.
"You may relax, friend Fletcher, at least for a few minutes," said Prilicla 
finally, directing his helmet light forward. "I thought I detected vibration in 
the corridor netting that was not being made by us, and I was right. Something 
is moving aft towards us. It is not yet visible. Shall we withdraw, I hope?"
"I want a look at it first," said the captain. "But stay behind me in case 
hostilities break out. Better still, you head back to Rhabwar, now."
The calm, controlled expectancy with a minimum of fear that was being radiated 
by the other compared very favorably with Prilicla's own cowardly feelings. He 
moved a few meters behind the captain but no farther.
In the netting around them the vibration increased, and suddenly it was within 
range of their helmet lights, a flattened, ovoid shape that moved like an 
enormous blob of animated quicksilver. The digits of the six short appendages 
spaced equally around its body were grasping the netting expertly and using it
to pull the creature rapidly towards them, but at a distance of ten meters or so 
it slowed to a stop. Obviously it was watching them.
"Friend Fletcher," Prilicla said anxiously, "don't open your satchela tool 
could be mistaken for a weaponor make any movements that might seem 
threatening."
"I know the first-contact procedures, Doctor," said the captain irritably. 
Slowly it released its hold on the netting and extended its two empty hands 
palms-outward.
A subjective eternity passed that must have lasted all of ten seconds without a 
response from the alien. Then its body rotated slowly through ninety degrees 
until the back or underside was directly facing them. Its six tiny hands were 
tightly gripping the netting all around it.
"It doesn't seem to be armed and its action isn't overtly hostile," said the 
captain, glancing backwards over its shoulder, "and plainly it doesn't want us 
to go any farther. But what can the rest of the crew be doing? Moving to cut off 
our retreat?"
"No, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla in gentle disagreement. "I have a feeling 
that..."
"Doctor," the other broke in incredulously, "are you saying that you're 
detecting feelings from this, this robot?"
"Again, no," he replied, less gently. "It is what you would call a hunch, or a 
guess, based on observation. I have the feeling that we are meeting half of the 
ship's crew and that we met the damaged other half on Terragar. There are small 
differences in size and body configuration which lead me to think that the 
damaged specimen was the male and this one is the female equivalent. . .."
"Wait, wait," the captain broke in again, its emotional radiation a confusion 
of surprise and disbelief with a flash of the unsubtle humor associated with the 
cruder aspects of reproduction. It went on: "Are you saying that the design of 
these robots is so sophisticated that they have the means to reproduce 
sexually? That would imply the implantation of a metallic sperm equivalent and 
an exchange of non-organic DNA and ... It's ridiculous! I just can't believe 
that robots, even highly intelligent robots, would need a sexual act to 
reproduce their kind, and I didn't see anything resembling sex organs on either 
of them."
"Nor did I," said Prilicla. "As I've already told you, it was a simple matter of 
differences in body mass and configuration. This one appears to be slimmer and 
more graceful. But now I would like you to do something for me, friend Fletcher. 
Several things, in fact."
The other's emotional radiation was settling down but it didn't speak.
"First," Prilicla went on, "I want you to move forward, slowly, until you've 
closed to half the present distance from the robot, and observe its reaction."
The captain did so, then said, "It hasn't moved and I think its hands are 
gripping the net even more tightly. Obviously it doesn't want us to pass. What's 
the next thing?"
"Move around behind me," said Prilicla. "It may consider you to be a threat even 
though you've taken no hostile action. Your body mass is over twice that of the 
robot, your limbs are long and thick and strange to it. My body is also strange 
but I don't believe anyone or anything would consider me a threat or, hopefully, 
wish to harm me physically.
"Then I want you to return to Rhabwar," he went on before the other could 
respond. "Move the ship away, a distance of half a mile should be enough, and 
come back for me when I signal. You will not have a long wait because fairly 
soon I will be close to the limit of my physical endurance."
The other was radiating such a combination of surprise, bewilderment, and 
intense concern for his safely, that it was mak-mg his limbs tremble.
"Friend Fletcher," he said firmly, "I need the area of this ship to be totally 
clear of all extraneous emotional interference, especially yours."
The captain exhaled so deeply that the sound in his headset like a rushing wind, 
then it said, "You mean you want to be left alone and unprotected in an alien 
ship while you try to pick up emotional radiation from a machine? With respect, 
Doctor, I think you're mad. If I allowed you to do that, Pathologist Mur-chison 
would have my guts for garters."
It was a colorful and physiologically-inaccurate Earth-human expression Prilicla 
had encountered before, and knew its meaning. He said firmly, "But you will 
allow it and do exactly as I say, friend Fletcher, because this is a disaster 
site and I have the rank."
Gradually the principal source of emotional interference that was Fletcher 
diminished with distance as the captain retraced its path to their entry point 
and jetted towards Rhabwar, and a few minutes later the faint background of 
emotional noise from the ambulance ship's crew was gone as well. Very slowly and 
cautiously Prilicla extended one long, fragile arm and moved dose to the robot.
"I think I'm mad, too," he said softly to himself.
Lightly he touched the robot in the center of what he assumed was the cranial 
swelling on its forebody. His gloves were nsulated but very thin and he was 
expecting anything from a faint, tingling sensation to a lethal bolt of 
lightning, but nothing happened at all.
He concentrated his entire mind on his empathic faculty to force it into maximum 
sensitivity. As well as receiving the emo-ional radiation of patients, injured 
casualties, and accident sur-ivors, he possessed a projective empathic ability 
which, if the receiving entity was not too distressed by fear or pain, could be 
used to pacify and reassure. It was the reason why most people felt good around 
him and why he had so many friends. As an id to focusing the effect rather than 
in an effort to communicate, he began to speak.
"I mean you no harm," he said. "If you are in trouble, sick, injured, or 
malfunctioning, I want to help you. Disregard my liter shape and that of the 
other person who was with me, and
the others you may meet. We must look strange and frightening to you, but we all 
mean you well...."
He repeated the message while continuing to project reassurance, sympathy, and 
friendship at maximum intensity and, while doing so, he moved his hand to the 
middle of the robot's body and changed his touch into a soft, gentle push.
Abruptly it released its grip on the netting with four of its hands and used the 
other two to pull itself rapidly away from him. It was about to disappear 
forward beyond the range of his light when it paused and began to move back 
towards him again. When it was about five meters distant it stopped, then began 
to move away more slowly.
Plainly it wanted him to follow it, which, after a moment of fearful hesitation, 
he did.
The passageway was leading directly towards a complex structure that seemed to 
fill the interior of the vessel's bow section. The bracing members radiating 
from it and the framework of the passageway he was following were festooned with 
cable looms, many showing the distinctive color-coding of the outer hull's 
sensor network.
He was beginning to feel something.
"Are you doing this," he called ahead to the to the robot he was following, "or 
is it your superintelligent captain robot?"
It continued moving forward without replying. There was nothing on its silvery 
body surface that resembled a mouth, so probably it couldn't.
The feeling that came to him was so tenuous that it verged on the insubstantial, 
but it was increasing slowly in strength. At first he was unsure whether it was 
originating from one mind or a group of them; then he decided that it was coming 
from two separate thinking and feeling beings. Both of them felt distressed and 
frightened, and, as well, one was puzzled and intensely curious while the other 
was radiating the claustrophobic panic characteristic of close confinement and 
sensory deprivation.
So far as he could feel, neither of them were in any pain nor were they 
exhibiting the fear characteristic of imminent termination, but then, he 
thought, thinking robots might not have such feelings. For a more accurate 
emotional reading he needed to get much closer to them, but that was triply 
impossible.
He was at the end of the passage and facing the solid wall of the structure that 
probably housed them. Although there was a convenient panel filled with colored 
buttons and switches, he had no idea of the operating principles of the actuator 
mechanism that would allow entry or the damage he might donot least to 
himselfif he tried and failed. And most important of all, he was fast running 
out of conscious time.
Prilicla was still frightened but for some odd reason he no longer felt 
threatened by his situation. Still, it would be considered an act of utter 
stupidity and carelessness if he were to fall asleep in the middle of an alien 
starship.
CHAPTER 12
When Prilicla wakened he felt rested and clearheaded but he was also feeling, in 
spite of the source being half the ship's length away, the angry impatience of 
the captain. He had been semicomatose from fatigue when he had returned from the 
alien vessel, and had not been able to make a coherent report, and now friend 
Fletcher was waiting to talk to him. The trouble was that he was still feeling 
so confused by his discoveries inside the ship that the report would sound 
incoherent. He needed more time to think.
Cowardiceboth physical and moraland procrastination were second nature to him. 
He flew down the central well to the casualty deck and used its communicator to 
contact Pathologist Murchison for a detailed report on the condition of 
Terragar's casualties.
It told him that Captain Davidson and the two surviving officers were stable, 
responding to the limited treatment available in a temporary medical facility, 
and being maintained on a regimen of IV feeding and heavy sedation. Personally, 
it felt that the quarantine arrangements between the patients and the ambulance 
ship were totally unnecessary, and a rapid casualty transfer to Rhabwar and a 
fast return to Sector General for more aggressive treatment were indicated. It 
ended by saying that the inves-
tigation and first-contact situation with a bunch of intelligent robots was a 
technical matter and none of their medical business Prilicla was unable to 
detect the pathologist's emotional radiation from orbit, naturally, but he 
could imagine the intense irritation and concern it and the rest of the team 
were feeling for their patients. He also knew that friend Fletcher would be 
routinely monitoring all radio traffic between the ship and the surface so 
that what he was about to say would mean that he could not delay speaking to the 
captain any longer.
"Friend Murchison," he said gently, "I don't foresee an immediate return to 
Sector General because the situation here is becoming more complicated. There 
are two other-species casualties on the alien vessel who may also require 
attention...."
"Other-species casualties!" it broke in. "Sir, with respect, we're not running a 
bloody robot-repair shop down here."
"You are assuming that the alien casualties are non-organic life forms," he 
replied. "That may not be so. But I have no wish to answer the same questions 
twice, so keep your communications channel open and listen in while I talk to 
the captain. I can feel friend Fletcher very badly wanting to talk to me."
"You're right, Doctor," said the captain as he flew onto the control deck a few 
minutes later. It gestured towards the communicator whose monitor light was 
showing and went on, "What was that all about? Other-species casualties? What 
did you find after I left you alone back there?"
Prilicla hesitated, but not for long because the other's impatience was so 
intense that it was making him tremble. He said, "I'm not sure what it was that 
I found, and even less sure of what it means...."
Briefly he described the events following the captain's departure for Rhabwar, 
the silent but obvious efforts of the robot crew member to entice him to follow 
it forward to the end of the central passageway where he could go no farther, 
and all that he had seen, thought, and felt there.
"... On the way back," he continued, "I decided that I had enough time to spare 
before I fell asleep to explore the ship's stern, and  followed the passageway 
all the way aft. The inside of of that ship is like a three-dimensional spider's 
web, with thin supporting and bracing members, open-netting passageways,
and most of all, cable runs linking the major internal structures. Considering 
the color-coding on the majority of the cable looms I saw__especially those 
linking the microcircuitry underlying the
ship's outer hull to what is presumably the control center forward__there are 
close similarities in the overall structure to the layout of major organs, 
musculature, and central nervous system of an organic life-form. The skin is 
highly sensitive and we know how it can react to an attack, or what it thinks is 
an attack, by an outside agency.
"We were safe," he went on quickly, "because we entered through the damaged 
hatch, which is analogous to a traumatized and desensitized surface wound. The 
forward structure obviously houses the brain and . .."
"Wait, wait," said the captain, holding up one hand. "Are you telling me that 
the whole ship is alive? That it's an intelligent, self-willed star-traveling 
machine like its robot crew members, only bigger? And that all that stopped you 
getting into its computer superbrainor, from what we overheard you tell 
Pathologist Murchison, its two superbrainswas a simple, structural impediment 
and your lack of physical endurance?"
"Not exactly," Prilicla replied. "There has to be a non-organic interface, but 
I'm beginning to suspect that the two controlling brains belong to organic 
life-forms, with feelings. I won't be able to prove that until you find a way of 
getting me into the brain housing.
I need to go back inside that ship," he ended, "for an extended stay."
The captain and everyone else on the control deck were staring at him, their 
emotional radiation too complex for indi-ual feelings to be isolated. It was 
Murchison on the communicator who broke the silence.
"Sir," it said, "I strongly advise against this. We're not dealing with 
ordinary casualties here ..."
"Define an 'ordinary casualty,' " said Prilicla quietly.
"... being recovered from the usual run of space wreckage," it went on, ignoring 
the interruption. "This could bein fact it was, so far as Terragar was 
concernedan actively hostile vessel. Its hyperdrive is out, but otherwise there 
appears to be only superficial hull damage. In spite of your theory that its 
sensors are only skin-deep, there may be internal booby-traps that could injure 
or kill you because you don't understand the technology behind them. Captain 
Fletcher is the specialist in other-species technology. At least let him open up 
this metal cranium before you go in."
While Murchison had been speaking, the captain had been nodding its head and 
radiating agreement.
"I agree with both of you," Prilicla said. "The trouble is that while the 
captain is a topflight solver of alien puzzles, it is not an empath. The 
moment-to-moment feelings of the beings we are trying to recover could be a very 
important guide to whether or not we are doing the rescue work properly. The 
captain and myself will do it together.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, gently changing the subject, "is the information you 
have now enough to send that hyperspace message?"
"Enough for a preliminary report," the captain replied, radiating anxiety. "My 
problem will be making it short enough not to drain our power reserves."
Prilicla was well aware of the problem. Unlike the detonation of a hyperspace 
distress beacon, which was simply a location signal and an incoherent cry for 
help, this message had to carry intelligence. It had to carry it in spite of all 
the intervening sun-spot activity, charged gas clouds, and other forms of 
stellar interference that would be tearing it into incoherent shreds. The only 
solution that had been found was to make the message brief
and concise and to repeat it as many times as the transmitting station's 
available power would allow so that a receiver could process it filter out the 
interstellar mush, and piece the remaining fragments together to obtain 
something like the original signal. A surface station with virtually unlimited 
power reserves, a major space installation like Sector General, or even one of 
the Monitor Corps' enormous capital ships could send messages lengthy enough for 
later processing with clarity. Smaller vessels like Rhab-war had to reduce the 
possibility of additional local interference from a planet's gravity field by 
transmitting their signals from space, and even then they had to trust to the 
experience and intuition of the person manning the receiver.
But the captain was radiating a level of anxiety greater than that warranted by 
simple concern over the wording of a condensed situation report.
"Is the necessarily compressed wording of the signal your only problem," 
Prilicla asked, "or are the two new aliens a complication?"
"Yes, and no," the captain replied. "There will be too few words available for 
me to include either complicated arguments or reasons for what I want done. Are 
you quite sure that the two new ones you found are organic rather than robotic 
life-forms? And would you object if the signal expressed doubt on that point?"
"No, and no," said Prilicla. "The emotional contact was tenuous. Perhaps it is 
possible for a really advanced computer to have feelings, but there is doubt in 
my mind. Something else is worrying you, friend Fletcher. What is it?"
The captain sighed, and embarrassment diluted its feelings of anxiety as it 
said, "This whole situation is potentially very dangerous and, if it isn't 
handled correctly, it could develop into a greater threat to the Pax Galactica 
than the Etlan War... I mean, police action. I want to order this solar system 
to be placed quarantine, interdicted to all service and commercial traffic
and contact forbidden to all personnel other than those presently on-site. That 
includes medical assistance, first-contact specialists or technical 
investigators, and there must be no exceptions.
"My worry," it ended quietly, "is whether or not my superiors will obey that 
order."
In spite of its efforts at emotional control, the captain was radiating a level 
of concern that verged on outright fear. Fletcher, as Prilicla knew from long 
experience of working with it, rarely felt fear even in situations where it 
would have been warranted. Perhaps, considering their initial contact with the 
outwardly undamaged but utterly devastated Terragar, the other was frightening 
itself needlessly. Or, more likely, it understood the nature of this 
technological threat better than could a medic like himself. Either way, it was 
a time to offer reassurance.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "please remember who and what you are. You are the 
Corps' most experienced and respected specialist in the investigation of unique 
other-species technology, otherwise you would not have been given operational 
command of this, the greatest and most non-specialized recovery vessel ever 
built. When your superiors consider this fact, I have no doubt that your orders 
will be obeyed.
"I'm assuming," Prilicla went on, "that the medical team will remain here with 
Rhabwar since we are best-suited to solving a unique problem that is both 
technological and medical. However, allowances must be made for the natural 
curiosity of your higher-ranking colleagues. They will probably send at least 
one fast courier vessel for information-gathering purposes, in addition to the 
ship we need to transfer the Terragar casualties to Sector General...."
"My point exactly!" Fletcher broke in, a burst of anger briefly overshadowing 
its anxiety. "A quarantine is either in force or it isn't, but for what may or 
may not prove to be good, medical reasons, even you are willing to break it. 
Everyone must be made to realize that we are faced with the technological 
equivalent of a plague. You and your team know this, you've seen what it can
, for yourselves, and still you are willing to compromise by ..." It raised its 
hands briefly and radiated helplessness. "If I can't convince you, what chance 
is there of a mere captain and glorified ambulance driver telling fleet 
commanders and and higher what to do and making it stick? I don't have enough 
bloody rank."
"Together, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "we might have enough. I suggest you 
draft the signal you wish to send, and if you wouldn't mind, let me see it and 
perhaps suggest amendments before transmission with a view to increasing its 
effectiveness----
"I'd do that anyway," the captain broke in angrily, "as a matter of professional 
courtesy. But I won't promise to insert your changes. Considering the power 
requirements, that signal must be clear, concise, and contain absolutely no 
excess verbiage."
"... While you're doing that," Prilicla went on gently, as if the interruption 
was a figment of everyone's imagination, "I'll check on the condition of the 
Earth-human casualties before trying to get close enough to identify the two on 
the alien ship."
The captain was radiating feelings of disbelief. "You mean you want to go back 
in there?"
"As soon as possible," he replied.
Within the first few minutes it became clear that he was not urgently required 
in the medical station. Terragar's casualties were stable, responding well to 
treatment, and showing signs of significant improvement although the grafting, 
reconstructive surgery and lower-limb replacements should be done as soon as 
Practicable at the hospital. But if he was reading correctly be-tween the lines 
of dialogue, there was a problem. Unlike his em-Phatic faculty, intuition was 
not affected by distance.
I think there is something other than the patients' clinical condition worrying 
you, friend Murchison," he said. "What is the Problem, and does it require my 
presence?"
No, sir," the other replied quickly. "I'm ashamed to say, the problem is sheer 
boredom. We're all cooped up in this bunch of high-tech medical shoeboxes with 
virtually nothing to fill our time except watch the patients getting better 
while outside the sun is shining, the sea is blue, and the sand is warm. It's as 
environmentally perfect as the hospital's recreation deck except that it's 
bigger and it's real. Sir, it feels as if we're on vacation but confined to our 
hotel bedrooms.
"Subject to the usual safety checks," it went on, "we'd like permission to take 
turns exercising and relaxing outside. This really is a lovely place. The 
casualties would benefit from the fresh air and sunshine as well, especially if 
our stay here is likely to be extended. Is it?"
"It is," said Prilicla. "Rhabwar will have to remain in orbit to investigate the 
alien vessel and its crew, who may themselves be with you soon as casualties. 
Permission granted, friend Mur-chison. But remember that this is a completely 
strange as well as a pleasant world, so be very careful."
"You, too, sir," she replied.
He ended the transmission as the captain pointed at its own screen and spoke.
"You wanted to see this before I send it off," it said. "Well, what do you 
think?"
Prilicla hovered above the screen for a moment, studying it, then he said, "With 
respect, friend Fletcher, I think it is too polite, too subservient, and too 
long. You should tell your superiors what you want done, as I will also do, 
without regard to the high rank of those concerned. Because of our knowledge of 
the situation here, limited as it is, we have the rank. May I?"
He felt Fletcher's agreement before it could reply, and dropped his 
feather-light digits onto the keyboard. The original draft, scaled down, moved 
to the corner of the screen and the new one appeared. It read:
TO: GALACTIC FEDERATION EXECUTIVE; COPIES FEDERATION MEDICAL COUNCIL; SECTOR 
TWELVE GENERAL HOSPITAL; MONITOR CORPS HIGH COMMAND; SECTOR MARSHAL DERMOD,
FLEET COMMANDERS, ALL SHIP CAPTAINS, AND OFFICERS OF SUBORDINATE RANK.
WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT THIS SOLAR SYSTEM IS TO BE PLACED IN QUARANTINE.
REASONS: UNIQUE TECHNOLOGICAL AND/OR MEDICAL THREAT BY DISTRESSED ALIEN SHIP 
MOUNTING UNIQUE WEAPONRY CAPABLE OF DESTROYING ALL SPACE VESSELS REGARDLESS OF 
SIZE OR POWER RESOURCES. DISTANCE IS ONLY KNOWN SAFEGUARD.
THREE TERRAGAR SURVIVORS RECOVERED. RHABWAR INVESTIGATING ALIEN SHIP AND TRYING 
TO CONTACT CREW.
REQUEST TWO COMMUNICATIONS VESSELS TO BE STATIONED MINIMUM OF FIVE MILLION 
MILES DISTANCE TO RELAY LATER INFORMATION AS IT BECOMES AVAILABLE. ALL OTHER 
VESSELS AND PERSONNEL REGARDLESS OF SPECIALITY OR RANK ARE EXPRESSLY ORDERED TO 
STAY CLEAR.
NO REPEAT NO EXCEPTIONS. FLETCHER, COMMANDING RHABWAR
PRILICLA SENIOR PHYSICIAN, SECTOR GENERAL
For a long moment the captain stared at the screen while it regained control of 
its feelings, then it said reluctantly, "It's shorter and ... well, better. But 
Sector Marshal Dermod doesn't usually receive messages like this from 
subordinates. He and his staff will probably have a collective fit. I didn't 
realize, Doctor, that you could be so, so .. ."
"Nasty?" said Prilicla. "You're forgetting, friend Fletcher, that your sector 
marshal is halfway across the Galaxy, and I am unable to detect its emotional 
radiation over interstellar distances."
CHAPTER 13
It was a rule of interspecies medicine to which no exception had ever been found 
that pathogens which had evolved on one world could not affect or infect any 
creature belonging to another. There was nothing in this world's microbiology, 
therefore, that could threaten her. But that did not stop Danalta, in the 
respectful manner befitting a subordinate, from insisting that Murchison take no 
chances with the life-forms that were large enough to see.
The shape-changer had already scouted the beach, shallows, and the trees and 
undergrowth inland to a distance of five hundred meters, for evidence of large 
and possibly harmful life-forms. A few varieties of water-breathing and 
amphibious creatures inhabited the shallows, tiny animals and insects crawled or 
flew among the tree roots and branches, but none of them were large enough to 
constitute a physical threat. This did not mean that they could be completely 
ignored. Pathogens could not jump the off-world species barrier, Danalta 
reminded her unnecessarily, but insects secreting organic toxins in poison sacs 
were capable of delivering painful if not lethal stings, the crablike 
sea-dwellers could nip, and all of them, should they feel threatened or hungry 
enough, could bite.
That was why she was walking along a golden beach without the gentle abrasion of 
hot sand between her toes while, "     from her uncovered face and the backs of 
her bare hands, much of the sun's heat was being reflected away by her white 
rails In this situation she would have preferred to wear much and the other 
members of the team would neither have cared or noticed if she had worn nothing 
at all because Earth-humans were one of the few intelligent species with a 
nudity taboo. The others covered themselves only when their working environment 
required the wearing of body protection. In spite of her advancing years, Peter 
kept telling her with maximum ardor and minimum poetryand when his brain was 
not so busy with other-species mind partners that he was unsure of who and what 
he was and why they were lying togetherthat she was in very good shape.
She wished he were with her now, under this real sky rather than the artificial 
one on the hospital's crowded recreation deck, with his mind his own, its 
professional concerns forgotten, and his attention concentrated entirely on her. 
But, she supposed, being the life-mate of the renowned Conway, Sector General's 
Diagnostician-in-Charge of Other-Species Surgery, had to have a few 
disadvantages. He couldn't take a vacation of opportunity like this just because 
she wanted to and he probably needed it. She sighed and continued walking.
Beside her Danalta rolled silently over the sand. In keeping with the occasion, 
and because it liked to give gratuitous exhi-'itions of its shape-changing 
prowess, it had adopted the form a recreational plaything much-favored by 
Earth-humans, a large beach ball. It was covered overall by triangles of garish 
red, - yellow and blue; the eye, ear, and mouth were inconspicuous -. the visual 
effect was quite realistic, but the track that it made in the  sand was too deep 
to have been made by an air-filled ball. Danalta regardless  of the shape it 
took, was unable to reduce its considerable body-weight. The pretty ball would 
never bounce. Would you like to  move inland?" said Danalta, stopping suddenly 
an<} extruding a bright green, Earth-human hand and index finger to point. "That 
hill is only a mile away and seems to be the highest point on the island. From 
there we might be able to see features of special interest to explore later, and 
possibly the nearer islands."
As well as being a show-off, the polymorph was intensely curious about 
everything regardless of shape or size, and the harder it was to mimic, the 
better it liked it.
"Fine," said Murchison. "But in case we're needed urgently I want to stay as 
close as possible to our patients. There's a stream that runs past the med 
station into the sea. We'll go back and follow it inland to its source, which 
should be on high ground. Do you agree?"
It was a rhetorical question, and even though she wasn't in the habit of pushing 
her rank, they both knew it. For the first hundred meters or so, the nearby 
environment could have been that found on any sun-drenched, tropical island on 
her home world. The stream was less than two meters wide but fast-flowing so 
that the stones on its bed were washed clean and showed many different colors 
and patterns of veining. It was only when her walk, and Danalta's roll, took 
them inland and under  the  trees  that  the  differences  began  to  show.  The 
chlorophyll-green of the leaves looked the same but the shapes were subtly 
different as was the soft carpet which was not of grass that grew along the 
banks of the stream from damp earth that was not of Earth. A little shiver of 
pure wonder made her twitch her shoulders, as it always did when she encountered 
a completely alien planet that looked and felt so entirely familiar. Then as 
they moved deeper under the trees, the amount of vegetation bearing large, 
sunflower-like blooms increased. The petals on many of them had dropped away to 
reveal clusters of pale green . fruit buds. There would be no problem with 
cross-pollination here, she thought as the insects began to swarm.
Very definitely they were like nothing on Earth. They ranged in size from the 
virtually invisible to several stick-insect varieties whose bodies were nearly 
six inches long. A few of  them were rounded, black and shiny, with wings that 
beat so  rapidly that they seemed to be surrounded by a grey fog, but
majority were brightly colored in concentric circles of yellow and red with 
multiple sets of wide, slower-beating gossamer wings that threw back constantly 
changing, iridescent highlights.
They were gorgeous, she thought, and some of them made even Prilicla look dowdy.
Most of them were heading towards Danalta, obviously attracted by the garishly 
colored beach-ball body it had adopted.
"They seem to be curious rather than hungry," said the shape-changer. "None of 
them has tried to bite me."
"That's sensible of them," said Murchison nervously as they lost interest in 
Danalta and began moving towards her. "Maybe they've realized that you're 
indigestible."
"Or I have the wrong smell," it replied. "I've just now extruded an olfactory 
sensor pad. There are a lot of strange smells in this area."
Smells, Murchison thought, was not the word she would have used to describe 
them. The subtle combination of scents being given off by the aromatic 
vegetation around them was something that the fashion perfume houses on Earth 
would have sold their souls for. But the insects were now homing in on her.
Instinctively she wanted to swat them aside, but knew that might make them 
excited and hostile. Instead she raised one hand very slowly to her opened 
helmet visor so that she could snap it dosed at the first sign of an attack. Her 
hand remained there, tense and motionless, for several minutes while the insects 
large and small swarmed around her head without actually touching her race, 
until they lost interest and returned to their own concerns.
Relieved, she lowered her hand and said, "Apparently they're non-hostile, They 
don't want to bite Earth-human DBDGs, either."
Which meant that, should their stay on this island paradise be delayed for any 
reason, the Terragar casualties could be moved outside for a few hours every 
day. She had always been a believer in the efficacy of natural fresh air and 
sunshine in the post-on treatment of casualties, a form of treatment not 
available in Sector General.
Puzzled, she said, "No animal or insect species, regardless of its size, can be 
universally friendly and hope to survive. These seem to be the exception that 
proves the rule. Let's move on."
The ground began to rise gently, the trees opened out into a large clearing and 
the stream became a wide, shallow pool whose bottom was covered by broad-leafed 
plants, each of which floated a single, radiant bloom on the surface, and they 
saw their first non-insect life-form.
Three fat, piglike animals with mottled yellow-and-brown skin, narrow, conical 
heads, and sticklike legs were wading in the shallows, nibbling at the flowers 
or pulling up the subsurface greenery. When Murchison's shadow fell across them 
they made bleating noises and ran splashing up the bank to disappear into the 
long vegetation that was not grass. From all over the clearing and under the 
surrounding trees came the sound of more bleating, and a much larger version of 
the same animal pushed through the greenery to stand and look at them for a 
moment before apparently losing interest and moving away.
"That must have been Mama or Papa," said Murchison. "But have you noticed, even 
the adult life-form is placid and unafraid and without aggressive tendencies or 
obvious natural weapons, and so far we've seen no sign of any predators or prey. 
Prilicla would just love this place. Have you seen any signs of
bird life?"
Murchison went down on one knee and shaded her eyes with both hands in an 
attempt to reduce sky reflection while she studied the subsurface features more 
closely. A few minutes later she stood up again.
"None," said Danalta, "but one must expect strangeness on a strange planet. Are 
you ready to move on?"
The ground ahead began to slope more sharply, and a few  minutes later they 
found the natural spring that was the source
of the stream bubbling out of a crevice in the ground that was showing several 
flat outcroppings of rock. The trunks and branches of the trees competing for 
the green areas between them were stunted and carried fewer blossoms and buds so 
that the insect population was proportionately diminished. But it was still a 
beautiful and relaxing place, especially with the breeze off the ocean finding 
its way through the thinning vegetation and cooling her face. Murchison took a 
deep breath of fresh, scented air and let it out again in a sound that was a 
combination of a laugh and a sigh of sheer pleasure.
Danalta, who found no pleasure in fresh air, smells, or environmental beauty, 
extruded a pointing hand and said impatiently. "We're within fifty meters of 
the highest point of the island."
The rounded summit was covered sparsely by trees, but not enough of them to 
obstruct their all-around view over the island. Through the gaps in the 
intervening foliage, Murchison could make out tiny areas of ocean, beach, and a 
section of the white medical-station buildings. A scuffling sound on the ground 
made her swing around to look at Danalta.
Its beach-ball configuration was collapsing, flattening out and spreading across 
the ground like a mottled red, yellow, and green pancake. Suddenly it rolled 
itself up into a long, cylindrical, caterpillar shape with a great many legs, 
before heading for the highest tree. She watched as it wound itself around the 
lower trunk corkscrew-fashion and began to climb rapidly. The view from up there 
will be much better," it said.
Murchison laughed and moved to follow it. Silently she was calling herself all 
kinds of a fool because if she were to become -Casualty through falling out of a 
tree she would never live it down. But she  was feeling like a child again, when 
tree-climbing had figured high among her accomplishments, and the sun was 
shining and  all was right with this world and she just didn't care.
"Earth-human DBDGs can climb trees, too," she said. "Our prehistoric ancestors 
did it all the time."
A few minutes later she was as close to the top as it was safe to go, with one 
arm wrapped around the trunk and a branch that looked strong enough to bear her 
weight gripped tightly between her knees. Danalta, whose latest body-shape 
enabled it to distribute its weight more evenly than her own, was clinging to 
the thinner branches a few meters above her. The view over the island and beyond 
was perfect.
In all directions they could see across the dark green, uneven carpet of 
treetops and clearings to the ragged edges where it met the beach. The medical 
station looked like a collection of white building-blocks standing in the dark, 
lengthening shadows of approaching evening, and the ocean was empty except for 
a tight group of pale blue swellings that were probably the mountaintops of a 
large island that was below the horizon. Danalta extruded an appendage to point 
slightly to one side of the distant mountains.
"Look," it said. "I can see a bird. Do you?"
Murchison stared hard in the indicated direction. She thought she saw a tiny, 
fuzzy speck almost touching the horizon, but it could just as easily have been 
her imagination.
"I can't be sure. ..." she began, and broke off to stare at the thick 
cylindrical member that was growing out of the top of Danalta's head. "Now what 
are you doing?"
"I'm maximizing my visual acuity," it replied, "by positioning a lens of long 
focal length the required distance from my retina and making small focusing 
adjustments. Since the material is organic and the viewing base is moving 
perceptibly in the wind, some distortion is to be expected, but I'm sure that I 
can resolve the image to show . . ."
"You mean you're growing a telescope?" she broke in. "Dr. Danalta, you never 
cease to surprise me."
"Definitely some kind of bird," it saidobviously pleased at the complimentand 
went on, "with a small body, wide, narrow wings and a triangular tail whose 
outer edges are uneven. At this distance the size is uncertain. It appears to be 
dark brown or grey in color and non-reflective. It has a short, thick neck but I 
cannot resolve any details of the head and there are no other body projections, 
so presumably its legs are folded for aerodynamic reasons. The wings do not 
appear to be beating and it seems to be soaring on the air currents. It is close 
to the horizon and shows no sign of dropping below it.
"Birds did not evolve on my home planet," it went on, "but I have studied the 
various species with a view to possible mimicry. So far, the general appearance 
and behavior of this one resembles that of a carrion-eater found on your own 
planet. At this range anything else I could tell you would be mostly guesswork."
"Let's go back to the station," said Murchison quietly. "I want to be there 
before sunset."
Danalta had spotted the planet's first bird, she thought, as she climbed to the 
ground, and it seemed to be the equivalent of an outsized vulture, with all that 
that implied. It was silly to feel so disappointed just because this 
perfect-seeming world had shown its first imperfection.
CHAPTER 14
Captain Fletcher and Lieutenant Dodds were being extremely careful, Prilicla 
noted with approval, and displaying a level of vigilance that elevated caution 
to the status of a major art form. Phis time they were using Rhabwar's pinnace, 
a vehicle normally used for evacuating space-wreck casualties whose condition 
was lot serious enough to require litters, to move a variety of specially 
insulated test equipment to a more convenient distance from the investigation 
site. All of the analyzers had one or more backups, in case they probed a 
sensitive area and the alien ship killed the instrument stone-dead as it had 
done to Terragars sensors.
Not for the first time the captain was reminding them that he test instruments 
and even the pinnace were expendable, but lot the people using them, which was 
the reason why they were wearing insulated, self-powered spacesuits.
Rhabwar maintained its distance with a communications channel open while they 
edged to a stop a few meters above the damaged area of the alien's hull, then 
tethered their vehicle loosely to it with a simple magnetic pad attached to a 
non-onducting cable.
"Sir," the lieutenant said as they were exiting the vehicle, ;Dr. Prilicla says 
that this damaged area of hullwhat it calls he surface woundhas apparently 
become desensitized to outside stimuli and we can safely make contact there. But 
shouldn't we check to make sure that other areas haven't been affected due to a 
power leakage or other deterioration in its sensor circuitry? I suggest making a 
few random tests. It might be that this metal carcass is dead by now and our 
precautions are wasting
time."
"If it can be done without you killing yourself, Lieutenant," said the captain, 
"then do it. You agree, Doctor?"
"Yes," said Prilicla. "That information would be helpful, friend Dodds. 
Especially if you can find another access hatch that is closer to the ship's 
brain section. From here we'll have to travel the internal walkways for more 
than half the length of the ship. But be very careful."
"Of course," said Dodds. "This might be the only life I've got."
They watched as it positioned its powered suit a few meters from the hull and 
began the first slow, lateral circuit of the ship that became a spiral leading 
forward. Several times the lieutenant disappeared from view and Prilicla felt 
the captain's controlled worrying, but Dodds was in sight when it made its find.
"Sir," it said excitedly, "I've found what could be a cargo loading hatch. It's 
about ten meters in diameter, flush-fitting, and the joins are so fine I almost 
missed them. Inset is a two-foot rectangle, that looks as if it might give 
access to the actuator controls. Along one side there is a group of three 
recessed buttons, but I won't touch them until I have some idea of what they do 
and, in case they're booby-trapped in some way, the order in which they should 
be pressed. I'm moving closer with the sensor now. The magnetic pads are holding 
it to the hull. I've switched on- So far, no response from the ship."
The captain's level of worrying peaked then began to sub-side. It didn't speak.
"I'm using minimum power on the sensor," the lieutenant went on, "so the image 
I'm getting is by induction rather than direct contact with the underlying 
circuitry, and pretty vague.
 
The wiring is complex, and active. To trace the leads to the three actuator 
buttons, I'll need to clarify the picture by using a little more power.... 
Bloody hell, the ship just did a Terragar on it! I'm sorry, sir, we need another 
K-Three-thirty sensor. This one just died."
"Don't worry about it," said Fletcher. "It's expendable You're not. Continue 
your search aft, report anything you find and then get back here and follow us 
inside. We'll have to go in the long way."
To Prilicla it went on. "This vessel's weapons system baffles me. So far there 
has been no sign of missile launchers, focused radiation projectors, or anything 
that might be an other-species equivalent. They could still be there and I just 
didn't recognize them, but... I'm reminded of a porcupine."
Prilicla didn't ask the obvious question because he knew it would be answered 
when the other's thoughts stopped moving too fast for any possible verbal 
communication. They were inside the ship at the first junction of the netting 
walkways and turning in the direction of the control section before the other 
spoke.
"It is a small, non-sapient Earth life-form," the captain went on, "with a soft 
body that has no natural weapons of attack, but it possesses an overall covering 
of body-spines that are long and sharp enough to discourage predators. If that 
was the situation here, then killing Terragar's operating systems could have 
been a mistaken act of self-defense because the aliens didn't know our ship was 
simply trying to give assistance."
"A not entirely comforting theory, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "It infers 
that there are other species, or perhaps other members of their own species, who 
wanted to attack it. Why? Do they consider it a threat of some kind, or their 
prey? Either way, they were able to inflict heat and blast damage. Remember, 
offensive weapons were used against this vessel."
"I know," said the captain. It continued pulling itself along the netting for a 
moment before it added, "But I'm beginning to wonder about that, too."
 
It did not elaborate although its emotional radiation was characteristic of a 
mind engaged in intense cerebration. Dodds reported finding another large hatch, 
presumably used for load-ing fuel or cargo, close to the stern thrusters, then 
it rejoined them while they were still halfway along the central walkway and 
heading forward. There it was that a robot crew memberperhaps the same one, 
Prilicla suggested quietly, or maybe it was the only oneemerged from a side 
walkway and began pulling itself rapidly along the netting to meet them. It 
stopped about five meters from the captain, who was in the lead, and spread 
itself out starfish-fashion with its six hands gripping strands of the netting 
and barring their path towards the control section.
"The last time this happened, Doctor," Fletcher said, "you were alone, you gave 
it a gentle push, and it moved back. Presumably the action was not meant as an 
obstruction so much as a warning to move carefully. Do you agree? I'll try a 
very gentle push, with my feet. In case it tries to shock me, my boots have 
thicker insulation."
The captain moved close, spread out its hands to grasp the netting on both sides 
to stabilize itself, then very slowly and carefully brought its feet forward to 
stop a few inches from the center of the robot's body. Its push was gentle to 
the point of imperceptibility.
There was no response. It pushed a little harder, then with steadily increasing 
pressure, but the robot only clung more tightly to the netting without moving 
back an inch.
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "move back a little and let me past."
Without speaking but radiating puzzlement and impatience, the other did so and 
flattened itself against the netting while Prilicla' s pressure globe squeezed 
past. A few seconds later he touched the robot's body gently. Immediately it 
released its grip on the netting and moved back slowly towards Control. Prilicla 
likewise, but as soon as Fletcher and Dodds began to follow him it barred the 
way again. The meaning of its action was plain.
 
"Why will it allow you past and not us?" said the captain "Does it think 
Earth-humans are stronger and more of a physical threat to it than a Cinrusskin? 
It's right, of course. But I've made no threatening moves towards it or ... I 
don't understand this." "Maybe it doesn't like you, sir," said Dodds, laughing 
nervously, "because your feet's too big."
Fletcher ignored its lieutenant's insubordination as well as the anxiety that 
had caused it, and said, "With respect, I don't intend to wait here doing 
nothing while you and your robot friend socialize. Dodds and I will follow you 
to the next intersection, then we'll try to find other walkways that will take 
us around to the control section. Earlier you suggested that our metal friend 
might be the only surviving crew member. If you're right, then it can't bar our 
movements and stay with you at the same time. Keep your communicator channel 
open at all times, Doctor, and have fun."
The robot hesitated in obvious indecision when the two officers turned into a 
side walkway, although Prilicla could not detect the emotional radiation that 
should have accompanied it at such short range. But its movements were 
communicating feelingssomeone or something else's feelingsin a subtle form of 
body language that he could read. There was a tenuous wisp of emotional 
radiation in the area, much too faint to be readable, and he was now quite sure 
that this robot was a highly sophisticated construct of limited intelligence 
which was little more than the hands and eyes of an entity who, for reasons 
still to be discovered, could not move.
But if he was being seen or his presence sensed in some other fashion through 
this robot, it or they might have their own reasons other than sheer physical 
size why they preferred the close approach of a Cinrusskin to that of 
Earth-humans. In which case it might even be possible, considering the robot 
crew member's lack of hostility, that they wanted to make contact with him.
That was why, when he reached the point of his previous closest approach to the 
control section when fatigue had forced turn to Rhabwar, he stopped to hang 
motionless with one f\ holding lightly onto the netting. The robot did the same. 
For a moment he looked at the small, recessed panel with three colored buttons, 
which was plainly the actuator for  nearby door, then with his free hand he 
reached forward slowly to bring a digit to a stop one inch above each but-n in 
turn, then he withdrew the hand and used the same finger to point at the robot. 
He repeated the process several times before the crew member reacted. It moved 
back quickly the way they had come, to stop at and block the nearest walkway
intersection.
Bitterly disappointed, he thought, Now it doesn't want me here for some reason. 
Or did it? The background emotional radiation was still too tenuous for clear 
definition, but he could not feel anything that resembled strong rejection.
"Friend Fletcher," he said into the communicator, "I have a feeling that I may 
be about to make progress. But the robot, or the agency presently directing it, 
is uneasy and has placed it on guard at the entrance to the walkway you and 
friend Dodds are using. Our radio traffic must be detectable so they know that 
I'm talking to you although they won't know what I'm saying. That will have to 
wait until we're able to program our translation computer for their language, 
which will be a separate problem. But right now I want to reassure these people 
by appearing to give you orders which you will plainly be obeying without delay 
or question. Will you comply, friend Fletcher?"
What orders?" said the captain in a guarded voice. To vacate the forward section 
of the ship," said Prilicla, and move back to the place where we came on board. 
We must it plain that you are no longer investigating the control Please do that 
immediately."
But temporarily," said the captain firmly. "This ship is crammed with unique 
technology which includes a weapon that threaten the peace and stability of the 
Federation. It has to be investigated."
'Of course, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "but not now.
"Very well," the other replied, radiating equal levels of ir-ritation, 
disappointment, and impatience. "I won't promise not to look around back there, 
especially at the circuitry of the hull sensors. But don't worry, we won't do 
anything to worry your robot friend. And if you should get into trouble, Doctor, 
there's something you should know.
"From where we are now," it went on before he could respond, "we have a clear 
view through the netting of a strongly supported, square-sectioned metal-walled 
passageway leading from the big forward hatch that Dodds found to Control. I'd 
say it was used to load bulk consumables or heavy equipment. Internally, the 
structure shows no sign of the circuitry that underlies the hull. So if you 
should need help quickly, we can cut a way into the passageway and get into 
Control by the back door. I don't think a computer virus could travel up the 
flame of my cutting torch.
"Keep this channel open, your recorders on at all times, and be careful," the 
captain ended, its feeling of concern for him making it give unnecessary 
warnings. "We're moving back now."
Prilicla watched as they withdrew towards the stern. When it was clear that they 
were not intending to double-back to Control, the robot moved back quickly to 
Prilicla and the actuator panel. This time he could sense no hesitancy in its 
body language, or that of its controller, as it began tapping keys. He was 
noting the colors and sequence for future reference when the forward wall became 
a large door that began sliding into a recess.
When it was fully open, bright orange lighting units placed at two-meter 
intervals and recessed into what was presumably the ceiling came to life along 
the length of another passageway that stretched ahead for close on thirty meters 
to another intersection. All four surfaces were opaque, made either from metal 
or hardened plastic, and covered with netting where it was not interrupted by 
transparent access hatches. Deliberately he moved them slowly so as to give his 
vision pickup and himself a past then to see what lay on the other side. Through 
one he had a Shortened view of the passageway leading from control to the hull 
that  Fletcher had mentioned earlier, but mostly there were only regimented 
tangles of color-coded wiring. He was sensing faint but definite feelings of 
uncertainty and impatience from somewhere.                                       
                                         .
As he reached the intersection the robot remained clinging to the netting of the 
surface facing him. It made no move to guide him or block his way, so it seemed 
that the choice of direction was being left to him. Prilicla was aware of two 
distinct sources of emotional radiation, both of them organic. The robot 
followed him as he moved into the side passage on his right and towards the 
stronger of the two. The passage ended at another door and actuator panel.
The source of emotional radiation strengthened almost to the level of 
readability.
CHAPTER 15
Again he positioned his hand a few inches from the panel and, without actually 
touching the buttons, moved his index finger from one to the other in the same 
sequence the robot had used while opening the first door, then waited. Hopefully 
he was displaying intelligence and memory as well as asking permission to 
proceed.
If the combination on this door was different, and it was booby-trapped and he 
was being allowed to make a mistake, then he might not survive the experience. 
The robot moved closer to him but it did not interfere. He pressed the buttons, 
the door slid open, and he moved slowly into the middle of another shorter, 
brightly lit passageway, then stopped.
His emotional radiation was so confused that for a long moment he could scarcely 
analyze it himself.
"Are you getting this?" he said finally.
"Yes, Doctor," Haslam's voice replied from Rhabwar. It sounded excited. "But 
remember to"
"Getting what?" the captain's voice broke in impatiently.
"I don't know, sir," Haslam replied. "You'd have to see it for yourself. And Dr. 
Prilicla, please remember to move your head and your helmet vision pickup very 
slowly, and hold it steady on each area you are describing. In case of, well, 
accidents. its very important if we're to have sharp images for later
 
Prilicla was well aware of that fact, but perhaps the other was trying to 
reassure both itself and himself that he wouldn't be speaking for posterity.
He ignored the remark and went on. "As you can see, the surfaces of the walls, 
floor, and ceiling of this stretch contain more transparent hatches than there 
are opaque surfaces, and there is a major change in the configuration of the 
netting. It is no longer attached to the wall surfaces and has instead been 
replaced by what appears to be a light, open-lattice metal cylinder. It runs 
along the center of the passageway, is strongly supported at each end and, I 
would say, forms a convenient working position for crew members needing access 
to the systems behind the transparent hatches. Between the cylindrical net and 
the transparent hatches there isn't much room for maneuvering ..."
But then, I don't need much, he added silently.
He moved forward along the cylindrical net in a slow spiral so as to cover all 
the inner surfaces of the passageway, speaking as he went. At one particularly 
large transparent panel he moved a hand close to its actuator buttons without 
touching them. Immediately the robot moved closer to nudge the hand away. He 
braced himself against the net and pressed his helmet and vision sensor firmly 
against the transparency. The robot did not react. Plainly this is a case of 
'Look but don't touch,' he went on.
 
"The wiring behind this panel is similar to that in the damaged robot crew 
member we found on Terragar. I'm holding the vision pickup  motionless against 
the panel so that you'll be able to use high magnification on the image . . ."
I am," said Haslam with enthusiasm. "That looks good,
Doctor, whatever it is." -ere was an impatient sound of an Earth-human throat
" - cleared and the captain said irritably, "Dammit, will I have to go back to 
Rhabwar to find out what you're doing here?" Prilicla didn't reply at once 
because he had moved to an-
other panel. Even though the view revealed mechanisms and con nections much 
cruder in design and fabrication than the previous one, once again his hand was 
pushed away from the actuator mechanism.
He continued to describe clearly everything he was seeing and thinking, but not 
what he was feeling. The emotional radiation in the area was strengthening as 
he moved towards the other end of the passageway, but it was not yet clear 
enough to describe even to himself.
"... This area appears to be dedicated to complex plumbing," he continued. 
"There are single and grouped pipes, from half an inch to two inches in diameter 
and distinctively color-coded. The fact that I was gently discouraged from 
opening the access hatch is a measure of their importance. I can't remember 
seeing piping with these codings on the way here. This makes me suspect that 
they are a local phenomenon, and probably the conduits and metering devices for 
the crew's air supply, water, or whatever other working fluid they use, and 
their food. Now I'm moving closer to another large door and actuator panel at 
the other end of the passageway and will try to open it.... No, I won't."
While he had been speaking the robot had swarmed along to the opposite side of 
the cylindrical net and interposed its body between Prilicla and the actuator 
panel. Gently he slowly extended a hand and tried to move it aside.
It resisted strongly but took no other action.
"Interesting," he said. "Apparently it trusts me, but not enough to let me go 
all the way in." To the captain he went on, "Friend Fletcher, earlier you 
mentioned returning to Rhabwar to see what I am doing. Are you and the 
lieutenant engaged on anything of vital importance at the moment?"
"We're investigating the interior hull circuitry and the leads to the power 
source aft. But the short answer is no, so stop wasting time being polite. What 
do you want me to do?"
"I want both of you to go back to Rhabwar," said Prilicla, and await further 
instructions... ."
"That means leaving you alone here," the captain broke in. I don't feel happy 
about that."
" Depending on how well things go here," Prilicla continued, ignoring the 
interruption, "I want you to send friend Dodds back with the portable holo 
projector and the standard first-contact tapes. I detect no strong feelings of 
personal animosity here, but if it will make you feel better, then the 
lieutenant may remain here. But it must stay well away from the control section. 
For some reason the Earth-humans, or maybe just the DBDG body configuration, 
make these people very much afraid."
"Not all humanoids are good guys," said Lieutenant Dodds. "Maybe they ran into 
some hostile elements during the Etlan War...."
"The Etlan police action," Fletcher corrected automatically, and went on. "They 
could have had a bad experience with Earth-human look-alikes during the 
hostilities, or have entirely different reasons that we don't yet understand. 
But Doctor, are you saying that you're ready to open communications with them?"
"I'm ready to try," said Prilicla.
He moved his helmet as close to the door as the robot would allow, then closed 
his eyes and tried to empty his mind of all distractive thoughts and feelings 
except for the tenuous fog of emotional radiation that he was trying to isolate 
and identify.
As he had expected from a survivor of a wrecked ship, the strongest emotions 
were negative. There was fear that was being controlled with difficulty, and a 
deep, corroding despair and concern that might or might not be personal, and 
pain. The pain was not the acute form characteristic of trauma, although there 
as a little of that present, too. It seemed to be more emotional than physical, 
and associated with a feeling of imminent loss. But within that dark fog there 
was a pale glimmer of curiosity, and wonder, trying to shine through.
 
It was time Prilicla shone a little light of his own. Literally Describing aloud 
what he was doing and thinking, he began switching on and off his helmet 
spotlight, low enough to be barely perceptible by his own eyes at first, then 
gradually increasing the intensity. He didn't want the alien survivor to 
mistake the light for a weapon, but he also wanted to know if he was being seen 
through the robot's eyes or if there were other visual sensors in operation. 
When he began to detect feelings of physical discomfort that were characteristic 
of sensory overload, presumably a reaction to a light that was now dazzling it, 
he reduced the brightness until its feeling of discomfort went away. Next he 
began flashing his light in an attempt to transmit intelligence in a form that 
he hoped the other should understandsimple arithmetic.
One flash of light followed two seconds later by another, then two flashes in 
rapid succession. He repeated the process with three, four, and five flashes as 
he tried to demonstrate simple addition as well as his own possession of 
intelligence. A change in the other's emotional radiation, a sudden feeling of 
interest, an understanding combining with the background curiosity, told him 
that he had succeeded.
It was an immediate and present response to his first attempt at communication, 
but now he needed to know if he could continue the process at long range.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "you've seen and know what I've been doing. I'm 
going to stop using my helmet light. Instead I want you to duplicate the 
sequence and timing, but using your ship's external hull lighting. I won't be 
able to see Rhabwar from here, so please tell me as soon as you begin."
"Right, Doctor," said the captain. "I'll need a moment to ... You've got it."
He didn't need the other's words because the survivor was reacting exactly as it 
had done to his helmet light, although the curiosity it was radiating was 
becoming tinged with impatience.
Plainly it was wondering what he was going to do next. That made two of them.
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," he said. "You can stop signaling now."
He had expected but was still relieved at the confirmation that the visual 
communication could be continued from the ambulance ship, either by himself 
orif he was undergoing one of his frequent periods of regenerative 
unconsciousnessby one of the others. But abruptly his relief was obliterated by 
a sudden explosion of fear from the survivor. Even the movements of its robot 
had become agitated.
"I'm not doing anything," he said sharply into his communicator. "What's 
happening out there?"
"Nothing much," the captain replied promptly. "In order to save time loading and 
off-loading it from the pinnace, Dodds is using his suit thrusters to bring the 
holo projector to you. It's an awkward piece of equipment but he can manage; in 
fact he's about to land on the hull as we speak. ..."
"Dodds," said Prilicla urgently, "don't move! The alien survivor is terrified. 
Turn back until I can find out why."
But he already knew why. The holo projector was a large, intricate, and 
completely harmless piece of equipment, but the survivor didn't know that. While 
its attention was being directed at Rhabwar's lights, it had seen Dodds, one of 
the DBDG lifeforrns which for some reason frightened it, about to land on its
nip with what it must have thought was a weapon. Except in the areas where the 
hull was damaged the ship had external defenses. Terragar had learned that, to 
its cost. But now it seemed there were no comparable internal defenses.
A porcupine didn't need spines on the inside.
As well as being sensitive to others' emotions, Prilicla knew
* he was a good projective empath. But he also knew that there
was no  way to make a being who was in the grip of intense fear feel good, or at 
least a little better, without first removing the
source. That was why he concentrated all of his considerable empathic ability 
into the projection of reassurance, sympathy and trust at a level of intensity 
that he could not maintain for more than a few minutes. He also gesticulated on 
the off-chance that the survivor could understand the gestures he was making 
while he spoke into his communicator.
"I'm pointing back the way I came," he said, "then making
pushing motions with my hands to give the impression that I'm barring entry to 
anyone else. By now the survivor should have seen friend Dodds turning back. I 
think it's working. The fear is diminishing...."
Prilicla continued to emote feelings of reassurance and sympathy until he was 
forced to stop and rest his brain for a moment, but by then the survivor's 
feelings had returned to normal, or at least to the level they had been before 
the approach of Dodds. But there was still concern in the other's mind which was 
not for itself.
The robot followed close behind him as he turned and moved out of the 
passageway, past the T-junction to the door opposite. It made no attempt to 
interfere when he pressed the actuator buttons on the opposite door. As well as 
being its sole protector, he was beginning to think that it was the only source 
of vision that the first survivor had.
The door opened into another passageway that was identical in size and layout to 
the one he had just left, but there the resemblance ended. Only two of the 
lighting units came on as the door opened so that he had to use his helmet light 
to see through the transparent access hatches.
"Are you seeing this?" he said again, unnecessarily. "The plumbing and circuitry 
in this area has sustained damage."
"We see it, Doctor," replied the captain, who must have joined Haslam in 
control. "And there are^signs that someone has been trying to effect repairs."
Two of the pipe junctions had been wrapped in some form of metalized, adhesive 
tape, but not tightly enough to prevent a rush of air or vaporized fluid from 
fogging the joints. Behind the hatches he could see that many of the visible 
cable looms showing patches of heat discoloration, and several had been
ruptured.  One group, which bore the color-coding indicating that it led from 
the hull sensors, had been pulled apart, opened and the fine, hair-thin 
individual strands of wiring fanned outwards in preparation for splicing.
The repair work was nowhere near completion. Prilicla indicated the areas of 
damage in turn, pointing at the robot each time, then he pointed several times 
towards the damage and to himself. He was trying to ask two questions whether 
the robot was responsible for the attempted repairs, and if Prilicla would be 
allowed to help complete the work. If the robot or its director understood him, 
there was no way as yet that they could answer. He moved to the inner door.
It was no surprise that the robot was there first, its body covering the 
actuator buttons to bar his entrance. But for now he would be content to touch 
the mind rather than the body on the other side of the door.
The general emotional texture was the same as he had detected from the other 
survivor, but the content was shockingly different. This time there was physical 
as well as emotional trauma. He couldn't even guess at what was causing the 
physical discomfort, but there was a feeling of constriction, possibly of 
suffocation, that was overlaid by fear, despair, and the dreadful, negative 
emotion characteristic of utter isolation. He edged a little closer to the door 
and, as he had done earlier, concentrated on rejecting reassurance, friendship, 
and sympathy.
It took longer this time, possibly because he was tiring again, but finally 
there was a reaction. Faintly, through the cloud of Nativity he detected 
surprise, curiosity, and a feeling of hope. - began using his helmet light, but 
there was no change in the other's emotional radiation. He asked the captain to 
duplicate sequence with the ship's lighting. Still there was no response. Friend 
Fletcher," he said, hiding his feelings with unemotional words, "I have detected 
the presence of a second all survivor. Its emotional radiation suggests that 
they are not i contact or presently aware of each other. The first one is 
distressed but not seriously injured. The second one, whose sensory and 
life-support systems are compromised as a result, I feel sure of it being closer 
to the damaged side of their ship, is injured and short of food, air, and water. 
It is also deaf, dumb, and blind.
"Full communications with and between the two aliens must be established as soon 
as possible," he ended, "and both survivors must be extricated and treated 
without delay."
"Doctor," said the captain, "just how will we manage that?" "Thankfully I am not 
the specialist in other-species technology, friend Fletcher," he replied. "I'm 
returning to my quarters now to rest. Perhaps the solution will come to me in 
my sleep.
CHAPTER 16
The Terragar casualties were progressing well enough to have their litters moved 
outside for a few hours each day so that the psychological therapy of fresh air 
and sunshine could reinforce the effects of her medication. The sun would warm 
and relax and tan the pallor of long service in space from their bodies and, 
because this world's ionization layer was intact, there would be no harmful 
aftereffects. But she could not spend all of her free time in ministering-angel 
mode and saying reassuring things to her patients even though, because of them 
being officers and presumably gentlemen, they did not object to her company or 
comment on her abbreviated dress. Now that their burns were healing to the point 
where there was no longer the risk of her Earth-human pathogens getting to them, 
she was not wearing her breathing mask and white coveralls.
Murchison's intention was to walk completely around the island over the firm 
sand by the water's edge. From their first hilltop observations three days 
earlier, she had estimated that the trip would take just under two hours and, 
while nobody had ever accused her of being antisocial, she would have preferred 
to walk alone and avoid having to tell therapeutic half-truths to a colleague. 
The casualties had progressed to the stage where they were becoming restive and 
worrying less about whether or not the would survive than how soon the transfer 
to Sector General for their reconstructive surgery would take place. Danalta and 
Nay drad were asking the same questions, which were valid and deserving of 
straight answers, but she had no hard information to give them because she 
hadn't been given any herself.
When asked, during her daily report to Rhabwar, the captain had stated that it 
was a medical matter and referred her to her boss. Prilicla, in its gentle, 
inoffensive, but totally immovable fashion, said that the timing was uncertain 
because they were trying to communicate with and extricate two other-species 
casualties from the alien vessel, that there were complications and the answer 
was "not soon."
She had passed this information on to Naydrad and Danalta but not to the 
patients. They might be disturbed by the thought that very soon the two beings 
who had been responsible for destroying their ship might be lying in the beds 
beside theirs.
Obviously Danalta had grown tired of being a multicolored beach-ball shape and 
had changed itself into a more challenging shape, that of a Drambon Roller.
Outwardly it was a perfect replica of the CLHG physiological classification 
native to the planet Drambo, although she doubted that even Danalta could mimic 
the complex movements of the original creature's internal organs which enabled 
it to roll continuously from the moment of partuition until the end of its 
life.
Physically, a water-breathing Roller resembled an animated donut that rotated 
vertically on its outer edge, with a fringe of short, manipulatory tentacles 
sprouting from the inner circumference and curving outwards on both sides to 
give balance at slow speeds. Between the roots of the tentacles she could see 
that the shape-changer had perfectly reproduced the series of gills as well as 
the visual equipment which operated coeleostat fashion to compensate for its 
constantly rotating field of vision. The original life-form had used a gravity 
feed system for circulation rather than a muscular pump, which was why they died 
quickly when
weakness, accident, or an attacking predator caused them to fall on  their sides 
and stop rotating. Her first experience of giving CPR. to a stopped Drambon had 
been like rolling a floppy, half-inflated ground car's inner tube around 
underwater. She laughed suddenly.
"That's very good, Doctor," she said. "If there were another Drambon on the 
island, it would find you irresistible."
Ahead of her, the donut shape made a right-angle turn, stopped, and bent almost 
double in a bow of appreciation at the compliment. Then it melted and slumped 
into a shapeless mound of green jelly which sprouted vertically into a tall, 
erect, yellowish-pink shape which oozed and melted into a near-perfect, 
two-thirds-scale replica of Murchison herself.
It was smaller than she was because Danalta was constrained by the limits of its 
own body mass and, although the detail in the eyes, ears, and fingernails was 
very good, the edges of her white swimsuit, hair, and eyebrows merged into the 
adjacent skin coloration like the uniform and features painted on a toy soldier. 
She gave an involuntary shudder.
Murchison had seen Danalta take some weird and often repulsive shapes with a 
minimum of inner distress, but for some reason this one was making her feel 
really uncomfortable.
Why don't you go for a walk up to the hill?" Murchison said, more sharply that 
she had intended. "I'm safe enough here on the beach. No insects, no crabs, no 
fish or amphibians in the water to crawl out and attack me. You might find 
something more interesting to mimic inland."
No danger large enough to see," said the smaller Murchi-son, "but  we're on an 
alien planet, remember?"
Being reminded of the obvious had always irritated her, especially-y when, as 
now, she needed the reminder. Even so, it was very difficult to believe that 
this wonderful place was not on Earth ; She didn't reply
"So far we've seen only one species of animal," said Danalta, unless the others 
are hiding from us, and that one is boring to
mimic. But I sense your annoyance. I'm sorry. Pathologist, is this body 
configuration not to your liking?"
The half-sized Murchison, with the exception of its 
communications-and-translator pack, began to subside like melt ing wax into a 
pink, sluglike shape with a tiny mouth and a large single eye. The real 
Murchison concentrated on looking out to sea.
Apologetically, it went on. "If you would rather walk alone without 
distractions, I can take on an aquatic form and keep pace with you without 
holding conversation. Or if you would like to immerse yourself for a while, I 
can serve as a protective escort, should one be necessary, although there is no 
evidence of any threat here, from the land, sea, or air."
"Thank you," she said.
That was what she had most wanted to do since the beginning of today's walk, 
although, perversely, she didn't want to appear too eager. As she continued 
walking, her peripheral vision showed her Danalta entering the water and 
spreading out into a fiat, carpet shape resembling an Earthly stingray with the 
addition of a high, dorsal fin which had an eye at its tip to give both lateral 
stability and all-around visibility.
She laughed suddenly and thought, The people I have to work with!
Gradually her path curved until the waves were breaking over and cooling her 
feet, then her calves and around her knees. Her back was to the beach as she 
suddenly broke into a long, high-stepping, splashing run, dived in, and began to 
swim.
The water was cold, pleasantly so, and so clear that if there had been anything 
on the sandy bottom larger than her thumbnail she would have seen it. After a 
few minutes of fast swimming, most of it underwater, she rolled onto her back 
and floated with only her face above the surface, comfortable in the embrace of 
an alien ocean which, on this world as well as on Earth, had been the mother of 
all life. She was looking up at the deep-blue sky and thinking that the 
casualties were well enough to profit from therapeutic, closely supervised 
immersion, when she saw the
There were two of them, not quite overhead and circling, dipping and banking 
slowly to take advantage of rising air currents They were so high, a few 
thousand feet at least, that they almost hidden by the glare from the sun, and 
at that altitude they could scarcely be considered a threat. Nevertheless, 
feeling guilty rather than anxious over the way she had been enjoying herself, 
Murchison raised an arm to wave at Danalta, pointed up at them and then towards 
the beach.
It was time they returned to their patients
And even higher above the birds, in the orbiting Rhabwar, a similar thought was 
going through the mind of Prilicla regarding a different set of patients. There 
was very little that he could do for them until they had learned to trust not 
just their physician, himself, but the DBDGs and their portable equipment of 
which, for some reason, they were so afraid, because the specialized knowledge 
and experience of the Earth-humans were vital if the treatment that one of them 
so urgently needed was to have any hope of success.
"In my cubicle I've been thinking as well as sleeping, friend Fletcher," he 
said. "Our first problem here is one of communication and, more importantly, of 
reeducation, but without the use of the portable audio-visual devices that are 
usual in first-contact situations. Any such equipmentespecially, it seems, when 
it is carried by Earth-human DBDGsis considered a ^eat. It also appears that 
suit ancillary equipment such as helmet lights, thrusters, and even our vision 
pickups which they may consider too low-powered to be dangerous, is allowable. 
That is why I want you to"
"We are agreed," the captain broke in, "that they feel com-ortable with you and 
are afraid of us. It must be that physically our  smaller size, physical 
weakness, and obvious lack of natural make you much less of a threat to them. 
Doctor, against
my advice you insist on going back alone into that ship. not take the 
first-contact equipment with you?"
"Because," said Prilicla gently, "I'm not sure whether it iss certain types of 
equipment, you DBDGs, or both that they are afraid of. So far, my close presence 
has been acceptable to them. Carrying the equipment with me might not be 
acceptable and I might destroy their feeling of trust in me. I don't want to 
risk losing that."
The captain nodded. "We know you can detect their emotional radiation and to a 
lesser extent project your own feelings of friendship towards them. That is 
communication of a sort, but it isn't the same as exchanging the words and 
concepts necessary for them to trust the rest of us as well. You have a problem, 
Doctor. Do you also have a solution?"
"I may have," said Prilicla. "We already know from our simple light signals that 
they have visual sensors on the undamaged area of their hull. The solution will 
involve my presence inside the control section, where I will be able to monitor 
their emotional responses, while you execute the first-contact visuals, highly 
magnified and edited to fit our situation, outside the ship. Is this technically 
feasible?"
The captain was silent for a moment, radiating concern for his safety as well as 
the anticipation of overcoming a technical challenge; then it said, "So you want 
me to project tri-di images into the space between our ships. How big do they 
have to be?
"At least twice as large as the other ship, friend Fletcher, he replied. "As yet 
we don't know the degrees of resolution of their external visual equipment, so I 
want every detail of your display to be clearly visible to all the sensors on 
that side of their ship. Can do?"
The captain nodded again and said, "Modifying the portable equipment to project 
externally will take time, Doctor. More than enough time for you to sleep and 
think again on the problem, and maybe find a solution that involves a lesser 
element of personal risk for yourself."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher"ignoring the implied criti-"I enjoy resting, even, 
and especially, when it isn't strictly necessary and other people are doing the 
real work. But first I must discuss with you the exact content and presentation 
of the election we will use, and, second, I need to pick your brains." The 
captain radiated a silent mixture of curiosity and caution as if it were 
expecting another surprise. It wasn't disappointed.
"In simple, non-technical terms," he went on, "I would like guidance on how and 
what to do in the damaged control section, as if you yourself were doing it. 
Naturally this will mean us studying the visual records together."
"It took many years of training in other-species technology to fill the brain 
you wish to pick, Doctor," said the captain, sarcasm thick in its voice and its 
emotional radiation. "Is that all?" "Not quite," said Prilicla. "I'll have to 
remember to check on the condition of my less urgent, Earth-human patients. But 
that will not involve extra work for you."
By the time the captain and himself had completed their discussion, to the 
satisfaction of neither of them, Prilicla got very little additional rest. 
Before releasing his consciousness for sleep he called Murchison. The 
pathologist reported seeing two highflying birds and, following its brief swim 
with Danalta, that the sea was safe for short-term Earth-human occupancy. It 
said that as Naydrad hated getting its fur wet and Danalta would be posted to 
seaward as a probably unnecessary guard, it suggested that their patients, 
although not yet ambulatory, would benefit both Physically and psychologically 
from a brief daily immersion in the sea followed by a lengthier exposure to what 
was for Earth-human DBDGs fresh air and sunshine. Understanding as he did from 
long experience of working among them the emotional attraction that existed 
between Earth-human males and females, he knew that the casualties would derive 
much pleasure from being bathed by an entity of the opposite sex, and so would 
his assistant. He acquiesced.
He was dreaming of sunshine and sand and the soft crashing of the high, 
low-gravity waves of his native Cinruss when the idyllic scene was dissolved by 
the insistent sound of his com communicator and the voice of the captain.
"Doctor Prilicla," said the captain. "Wake up, it's show time."
CHAPTER 17
This time Prilicla made the trip alone, with the pinnace being guided by Haslam 
to the entry point on remote control. If the robot crew member or, through its 
sensors, its superior noticed the miniature, eye-level repeater screen that had 
been added to the interior of Prilicla's helmet, it was not considered a threat 
because nothing was done to impede his trip back to the control section. It 
wasn't absolutely necessary that he have a picture of what would shortly be 
going on outside since Fletcher could have told him about it via his 
communicator, but words took time and good pictures were always faster, clearer, 
and less susceptible to misinterpretation.
When he was deep inside the control section he drifted as close as possible to 
the inner door that would give access to the least injured of the ship's two 
organic survivors, a position where he could monitor the other's emotional 
responses with optimum accuracy. The robot drifted passively less than a meter 
away. He knew that the tiny metal digits encircling its body were capable of 
ripping open his spacesuit in a matter of seconds, but he also knew  or rather 
he felt fairly surethat it would remain passive unless he tried to open the 
inner door. "Ready when you are, friend Fletcher," he said.
A few seconds later an immediate change in the alien's emotional radiation as 
well as the image on his helmet screen told him that, in the space between 
Rhabwar and the distressed alien ship, the show had begun.
"It sees the external image," Prilicla reported excitedly "There are feelings of 
awareness, curiosity, and puzzlement."
The captain didn't reply but one of the other officers laughed softly and said 
in a voice not meant to be overheard, "I would feel puzzled, too, if somebody 
projected the image of a star field onto another star field."
The projected star field remained unaltered for a few seconds, then slowly it 
began to shrink and condense so that more and more stars moved in from the edges 
of the three-dimensional projection until it took on the glittering, 
unmistakable, spiral shape of the Galaxy itself.
The survivor's concentration was now total.
Gradually the fine detail of the image coarsened, the wisps and streamers of 
interstellar gas were erased, and the number of stars was reduced to a few 
hundred which became large enough to have been counted individually. One of them 
was highlighted inside a circle of bright green and the circle increased rapidly 
in size until a stylized representation of the star and its system of planets 
filled the projection volume for a few seconds before the image changed again.
The viewpoint zoomed in on that solar system's inhabited planet, showing the 
swirling, tattered cloud formations that could not quite hide the continental 
outlines. As it swooped closer and lower it slowed until the viewpoint was 
giving panoramic views of the planetary surface, seascapes, ice fields, 
mountains, tropical greenery, and great, sprawling cities with their 
interconnecting road systems. Then the image was reduced suddenly in size and 
moved to one side so that it filled only half of the projection.
The other half displayed an equally detailed representation of the world's 
dominant intelligent life-form.
It was the picture of an enormous, incredibly fragile flying insect with a 
tubular, exoskeletal body that supported six sucker tipped pencil-thin legs, 
four even more delicately fashioned and precise manipulators, and two sets of 
wide, iridescent, and almost transparent wings. The head was a convoluted 
eggshell so finely structured that the sensory organs, particularly the two 
large, lowing eyes projecting from it, seemed ready to fall off at the first 
sudden movement. The head, manipulatorssome of them holding toolsand legs were 
bent or rotated to demonstrate their limits of movement while the wings wafted 
slowly up and down as they broke up and reflected iridescent highlights like 
mobile rainbows. It was the picture of a Cinrusskin, one of the race generally 
held to be the most beautiful and delicate life-forms known to the explored 
reaches of the galaxy.
Then the limb motions ceased, the wings folded away, and the body was suddenly 
encased in a spacesuit identical to the one Prilicla wore.
"As well as the background discomfort, I detect feelings of surprise and growing 
curiosity," Prilicla reported. "Go to the next stage."
They had shown a picture of Prilicla's race first because he had already been 
seen by the alien casualty and seemed to be trusted by it. But now its education 
and, hopefully, its ability to trust had to be widened.
Next was shown the solar system, planet, meteorology, rural and city 
environments of Kelgia, accompanied by a picture of a single member of its 
dominant species. The undulating, multi-Pedal, caterpillar-like body with its 
silver, continually mobile fur, the narrow cone of a head, and the tiny forward 
manipulators, roused no feelings of antipathy in the casualty, nor did the 
similar  Material on the crablike Melfan or the six-legged, elephantine Tralthan 
life-forms that followed it. But when the Hudlar planet species were shown, 
there was a subtle change. Hudla was a heavy-gravity world pulling four Earth Gs 
whose nearly opaque atmosphere resembled a thick, dense soup, it was rich in the 
suspended animal and vegetable nutrients on which  the Hudlars lived. It was a 
world of constant storms that had forced its natives to build underground. Only 
a Hudlar could love it, Prilicla thought, and then, not very much.
He said, "Now there are feelings suggestive of fear and familiarity. It is as 
if the casualty is recognizing a habitual enemy To most people, Melfans and 
Tralthans are visually more horrendous than the smooth-bodied Hudlars, so it 
may well be that it is the planet Hudla itself rather that its native life-forms 
that is causing this reaction."
"Is this a guess, Doctor," said the captain, "or one of your feelings?"
"A strong feeling," he replied.
"I see," said the other. It cleared its throat and added, "If your casualty 
considers Hudla as something like home, I can feel a certain sympathy for it in 
spite of what it did to Terragar. Shall I proceed?"
"Please," said Prilicla, and the lesson continued.
Showing the planets and living environments of the sixty-seven intelligent 
species that comprised the Galactic Federation had never been their intention 
because the process would have been unnecessarily long and this was, after all, 
a primary lesson. The widely different types like the storklike, tripedal 
Nallajims, the multicolored, animated Gogleskan haystacks, the slimy, 
chlorine-breathing Illensans, and the radiation-eating Telfi, among others, were 
included, but so also were the DBDG classifications from Earth, Nidia, and 
Orligia. Those three were there deliberately because the prime purpose of the 
lesson was to instill in the alien casualties a feeling of trust for their 
Earth-human rescuers.
"It isn't working," said Prilicla, disappointed. "Every time you showed a DBDG, 
regardless of its size or whether it was a large, hairy Orligian, an 
Earth-human, or a half-sized, red-furred Nidian, the reaction was the sameone 
of intense fear and hatred. It will be extremely difficult to make these people 
trust you.
"What on Earth," said the captain, "could we ever have done to make them feel 
that way?"
 
"It was not done on Earth, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "Rut the show isn't 
over yet. Please continue."
The format changed again. Instead of showing individual planets and subjects, 
two- and three-member groups comprising different species were shown meeting and 
talking, sometimes with their children present, or working together on various 
technical projects. In some of them they were encased in spacesuits while they 
rescued other-species casualties from damaged ships. The pictures' application 
to the present situation, he hoped, was plain. Then the scene changed again to 
show all of the subjects, forming the rim of wheel and shown in scale, from the 
diminutive Nallajims and Cinrusskins, up to the massive Tralthans and Hudlars 
of more than ten times that body-weight. At the hub of the circle was shown a 
tiny, glittering representation of the galaxy, from which radiated misty spokes 
joining it to the individual species on the rim. Then the individual species 
were pictured again, this time with all of them displayed as being the same 
size, in order, it was again hoped, to illustrate equality of importance. 
Several seconds passed. At this extreme range Prilicla could not feel, but he 
could imagine the captain's anxiety as it spoke. "Well, Doctor," it said 
urgently, "was there a response?" "There was, friend Fletcher," he replied, "but 
I'm still trying for an exact analysis of the emotional radiation. In 
conjunction with the background feelings of anxiety, which may be caused by 
worry over its companion who it can no longer contact, there -re strong feelings 
of excitement, wonder, and, I feel sure, comprehension. I'd say that it 
understood our lesson."
When he didn't go on, the captain broke the silence. It said, "I've the feeling 
that you're going to say 'but.' "
But," Prilicla went on obligingly, "every time you showed DBDG, the casualty 
also radiated deep suspicion and distrust.These feelings are better than the 
earlier ones of intense fear and
blind hatred, but only fractionally. I feel certain that the casualty still 
doesn't want you DBDGs anywhere near it."
For the first time in Prilicla's long experience on ambulanceship operations, 
the captain used words that his translator had not been programmed to accept, 
and went on. "Then what the hell am I expected to do to change that?"
Before replying, Prilicla looked slowly around the compart ment, pointed at one 
of the transparent inspection covers, then moved close and began opening it. The 
robot drifted nearby but made no attempt to interfere, even when he reached 
inside and after hesitating and looking back as if to ask permission for what he 
was about to do, he gently touched one of the cable looms. When he replied, he 
knew that his vision pickup was showing the captain everything he had been 
doing.
"In very simple pictorial terms, we've been talking big," he said, "by telling 
it about a few of the Federation's species and the cooperation that exists 
between their worlds and in space, like assisting distressed ships and"
"If you remember my advice," the other broke in, stressing the last word, "it 
was to follow through on the ship-rescue sequence and show the casualties 
receiving medical treatment. That, Doctor, would have clearly demonstrated our 
good intentions."
"And I did not take your advice," Prilicla replied gently, "because of the 
possibility of a misunderstanding. In the present climate of fear and distrust, 
the emotional reaction of an alien who would have been witnessing a 
multispecies medical team, which would certainly have included at least one 
DBDG, carrying out a surgical procedure on a casuallycould not have been taken 
for granted. We know nothing about the alien's physiology, environment, or 
medical practices, if it has any. It may have decided that we were simply 
torturing captured casualties.
"You, friend Fletcher," he said, when the other remained silent, "can do nothing 
right now, apart from furnishing me with technical advice when needed. I've 
already mentioned this idea to you, and your lack of enthusiasm for it was 
understandable-But the time for showing pictures is over. As my Earth-human 
gambling friends keep telling me, I must put my money where my mouth is.
"So now," he ended, "we  or rather, I  must try to reinforce those pictorial 
lessons with deeds."
He withdrew his hand slowly, closed the transparent cover and pointed along the 
linking passageway in the direction of the identical compartment on the damaged 
side of the ship. Had the robot crew member been an organic life-form, he 
thought, it would have been breathing down his neck. But it made no move to 
hinder him.
In the darkened compartment he used his helmet light to open inspection panels 
and look and, if it didn't look dangerous, to touch the scorched or ruptured 
cable looms and plumbing inside all of them in turn. Still there was no 
interference from the robot. He was beginning to feel less sure of himself and 
his ability to do this job when the captain, demonstrating the strange mixture 
of empathy and understanding possessed by Earth-humans, answered his question 
before it could be asked.
"You should start with an easy one," said the captain. "High on the upper side 
of the first inspection compartment you opened there are two fairly thick wires 
 one has what seems to be pale blue insulation, and the other red. If you look 
carefully you can see where they make a right-angle turn and disappear through a 
grommet into what is presumably the ceiling of your corridor. The force of the 
explosion caused a wiring break in one If them at the angle bend. Do you see the 
ends of the bare wire Projecting from the torn insulation? Try to splice it, but 
be careful :it to touch any metal in the area while you're working. Your 
gauntlets are thin and we don't know how much current that re will be carrying. 
You'll need insulating tape to hold the splice together."
"My med satchel has surgical tape," said Prilicla. "Will that do?
"Yes, Doctor, but be careful."
A few minutes later the splicing operation was complete, the join was insulated, 
and all the lighting fixtures in the corridor were on. The robot crew member was 
moving from one to the other and, Prilicla hoped, reporting on the completion of 
one small repair to the conscious survivor who was its chief. It wasn't much, 
but he had done something.
"What next?" said Prilicla.
"Now comes the difficult part," said the captain, "so don't get cocky. The other 
wiring affected is finer and with more subtle color-codings. Some of the 
ruptured strands show heat discoloration, and you must trace these back to an 
unaffected area so as to positively identify each end before joining them. The 
complexity of the wiring makes me pretty sure that most of these breaks are in 
the hull-sensor and internal-communications networks, and if a join were to be 
mismatched, we could cause all kinds of trouble. It would be like 
short-circuiting your hearing sensors to your eyes. We're in the strange 
position of making repairs to systems whose purposes are totally unknown to us. 
I wish I was there with the proper equipment to help you. This is going to be 
delicate, precise, painstaking, and exhausting work. Are you up to it, Doctor?"
Don't worry," said Prilicla, "it's a little like brain surgery."
CHAPTER 18
Even though the captain was giving him the benefit of its wide-ranging technical 
expertise and guiding his hands at every stage, the work went very slowly. An 
early splicing problem was that some of the damaged fine-gauge wiring had burned 
away along several inches of its length and the missing pieces had to be 
replaced. There was suitable replacement material on Rhab-war and the captain 
offered to bring it himself, in the hope that he would be allowed to assist 
Prilicla directly and so speed up the process.
"Bring some food as well, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. I ve decided that it 
will also save time if I don't have to return to the ship for meals. Or sleep."
Prilicla waited politely until the expected objections were becoming 
repetitious, then said, "There are risks, of course, but Im being neither 
foolish nor foolhardy. My spacesuit makes provision for the short-term 
elimination of body wastes, it has a small airlock attachment for the 
introduction of food, and in the weightless condition, padded rest furnishings 
are unnecessary for comfort. My thinking is that if we want the survivor to 
trust us,we  must show that we trust it."
I agree, reluctantly," the other replied after a long pause.
"But if I can make it plain that I'm helping you help it, maybe it will begin to 
trust me, too."
"That is the general idea, friend Fletcher," he replied. "But at this delicate 
stage in the contact procedure we shouldn't rush things."
"Right," said the captain. "I'll bring the food, replacement wiring, and some 
simple, non-powered tools that I think will help in your work. They will be 
inside a transparent container so that the survivor and/or its robot will be 
able to see exactly what it is getting. I'm coming now."
But when it was approaching the alien ship, the emotional radiation of the 
survivor became apprehensive and its robot left the compartment quickly on what 
was obviously an interception course. Prilicla followed it and, when it was 
plain that the captain was not to be allowed to enter the ship, he relieved the 
other of its package.
"Sorry, friend Fletcher," he said as he did so, "I'm afraid that you're still 
unwelcome here. But I've been thinking about a possible explanation for that, 
and for the high sensitivity these people have towards external physical 
contact, allied to the strange fact that, in both the ship and its crew robots, 
their defenses are ultra-short range. Surely that is a strange type of weapon 
to use in space."
"The weapon used against them was not short-range," said the captain. "It blew a 
large hole in their hull and, to a lesser degree, in the defunct crew robot we 
examined. But go on."
"During your show," Prilicla resumed, "I received the feeling that the survivor 
was being given information for the first time. There was excitement, wonder, 
but a strangely reduced level of surprise. It was almost as if the survivor was 
expecting, or maybe just hoping, to meet other life-forms in space. If I'm 
right, that would mean that interstellar travel was new to it, or that this was 
its first time out and it was exploring, perhaps even searching for the planet 
it has found. But when you showed the Hudla sequence, there I detected subtle 
changes in its emotions. There was an odd combination of fear, dread, hatred, 
and, strangely, familiarity. Hudla is not a pleasant world to people who are not 
Hudlars and, I would guess, neither is the survivor's. I realize this is 
speculation but I have the feeling that it went out looking for another and 
better world. The presence of its ship in close orbit could mean that it found 
it."
The other made a gesture of impatience. "An interesting theory, but it doesn't 
take into account the fact that an as-yet unknown agency used an offensive 
weapon against it."
Prilicla hated telling the captain that he thought it was wrong, especially at 
this short range because he would feel the other's annoyance at full intensity. 
He said gently, "Are we quite sure about that? Consider the type of blast damage 
to the ship and the robot taken aboard Terragar, and that this species may be 
new to interstellar and hyperspatial flight and the distress beacons associated 
with it. Let's suppose that they found an uninhabited planet, green and 
pleasant and without the violent meteorology of home and that they signaled its 
position by detonatingnot a distress beacon because if they were new to space 
they would not expect rescuebut a similar device that would give an accurate 
position fix. The signaling device was untried and it blew up in their faces. 
That's the one we suspected might be a weapons discharge. Terragar responded 
before we could and needed to detonate its own distress beacon. But the point 
I'm making is that the damage to the alien ship might have been accidental and 
self-inflicted."
"I think you're wishing rather than theorizing, Doctor," said the captain; then, 
after a moment's thought, "But it's a nice theory. However, it doesn't explain 
why their robots as well as their ship have such prickly hides. Plainly they 
were expecting someone or something to attack them. And if you still think I'm 
wrong, don't waste time being polite about it."
"Their defenses may be automatic," said Prilicla. The captain did not reply. It 
was beginning to have doubts which meant that the reflected annoyance caused by 
Prilicla':
words would be reduced. He went on. "Consider the surface design of the ship's 
outer hull as well as that of the robot's skin. Those surfaces can be touched 
without harm by organic digits or simple, unsophisticated, non-powered tools. If 
we postulate a dense or highly disturbed atmosphere on their home world, a 
thick, protective, and streamlined covering would be necessary for survival, as 
it is on the Hudlars' planet. But suppose they have an implacable natural enemy, 
perhaps an intelligent and technically advanced one, and the ship's defensive 
weapons are needed only on their environmentally-hostile home planet during the 
periods of construction, takeoff, and landing.
"And if their implacable enemy bears a physical resemblance to you DBDGs," he 
ended, "that would explain much."
The captain made an untranslatable sound. "I suppose we're lucky that they don't 
have a phobia about outsized crabs or caterpillars, or six-legged elephants or 
even large flying insects," it said, then went on briskly. "About this repair 
job, Doctor. There will be considerable physical and mental stress involved. The 
quality of any work suffers with the onset of fatigue, whatever the profession. 
While your mind is clear, can you estimate how long you will be able to function 
effectively before I should remind you to stop for rest?"
Prilicla gave an estimate that was on the generous side, knowing that the other 
would be sure to reduce it. Nothing more was said until he had returned to the 
alien's control center, after which the captain rarely stopped talking, but the 
words and tone were continually reassuring.
"... Before its insulated cover was pulled apart by the accident," Fletcher was 
saying, "the cable loom you are working on enclosed ten individual lines. The 
magnifier here tells me that they are too fine to carry a dangerous level of 
current. But their color-coding is the same as the heavier cables that run to 
and spread across the outer hull, so we may assume that they perform a similar 
communications and/or sensory function.... Dammit,
I wish I could get in there with the proper tools. Don't take that as a 
criticism, Doctor, you're doing fine."
Prilicla remained silent because the other had repeated its non-criticism and 
apology several times in the last hour, and he was feeling excited and hopeful 
rather than irritated. An internal, light-duty sensor and communications circuit 
was what he had been looking for because it might mean that he had found the 
broken connection between the comparatively uninjured and strongly emoting crew 
member and its partner. Putting them in touch with each other again should go a 
long way to proving their rescuers' good intentions. Carefully and with the 
delicacy of touch possible only to one of his fragile race, he separated, 
stripped, and began to splice the severed ends of a wire that was almost 
hair-thin.
Suddenly he jerked his hands away as a burst of emotion exploded from the crew 
member at the other side of the control center. In spite of the distance it was 
strong, sharp, intensely uncomfortable, but brief. It faded within a few seconds 
and so, thankfully, did the accompanying feelings of anger.
"What happened?" said Fletcher sharply. "You jerked your hands away. Are you 
hurt?"
"No," Prilicla replied; then after a moment's thought he went on, "I must have 
joined two of the wrong wires. It made the survivor, maybe both of them, very 
uncomfortable for an instant. The emotional radiation was characteristic of a 
sharp, unpleasant sensation, as if someone was to cross our optic nerve with our 
aural input then make a loud noise. Sorry, I'll have to be more careful."
The captain exhaled loudly and said, "Yes. But it was a natural mistake because 
all the wiring in that loom has the same color-coding with subtle variations in 
shade. The magnifier's enhanced imaging barely picks them up but your unassisted 
vision can't, good as it is. Next time hold the wire ends to be joined where I 
can see them clearly for my okay, then, if it doesn't cause
an adverse reaction, shield the other wires from it while you spray on the 
insulation. That way you won't risk a bared, spliced length making contact or 
short-circuiting against an adjoining bare wire. Tell me if you've any doubts or 
problems about anything you intend doing, Doctor, otherwise carry on. I think 
you're getting there."
Prilicla carried on while the captain furnished technical and moral assistance. 
There were no more accidents, but there was an increasing level of emotional 
radiation emanating from the survivor on the undamaged section of the control 
center. It was not the sharp reaction characteristic of sudden discomfort, but a 
mixture of fear and hope so intense that his empathic faculty received it almost 
as a physical pain. Then suddenly there was a double explosion of feeling that 
made him pull back because his whole body, as well as his hands were trembling. 
Slowly he moved to the the inner door that he had not been allowed to enter and 
placed his stethoscope against the bare metal.
"Doctor, you've got the shakes," said the captain urgently. "Is there anything 
wrong with you? What's happening?"
"Nothing is wrong with me," said Prilicla unsteadily as he sought for his 
customary clinical calm. "To the contrary, friend Fletcher. The two survivors 
are now communicating with each other, presumably via the repaired circuitry. 
I'm trying to pick up their language sounds, with a view to programming it into 
our translation computer, but I can't hear anything. Possibly there is not 
enough air to conduct sound or their speaking and hearing organs are enclosed in 
some kind of helmet."
"Almost certainly that is due to their control sections losing internal 
pressure," the other said excitedly. "How are they feeling now?"
"At present their emotional radiation is complex and confused although it is 
beginning to clear," Prilicla replied as he tried to describe feelings that 
could not be adequately conveyed in mere words. "There is a combination of 
relief, excitement, and concern that is due, I feel sure, to the reestablishment 
of interpersonal communication and the up-to-the-minute exchange of 
information. That information would include the first survivor's reaction to the 
things we have been doing for it as well as a description of the physical 
condition of the second survivor which, my empathy tells me, is not good. 
Something will have to be done for the second one as a matter of clinical 
urgency. Underlying the emotional radiation from both sources, but still strong 
enough to be unmistakable, there are feelings of gratitude."
"Good!" said the captain. "If they're feeling grateful then they must know that 
you're trying to help them. But do you think they're ready to to trust us, all 
of us, after your good deed?"
Prilicla was silent for a moment as he concentrated on the two sources of 
emotional radiation, one of them attenuated with distance and the closer one 
faint because of physical weakness and distress, then he said, "There is still a 
persistent background fear in both entities that is due, I feel sure, to the 
fact that both of them are now aware of the presence of their feared and hated 
DBDG bogeyman. I may be wrong because I'm am empath, rather than a telepath, but 
I feel that they aren't yet ready to make friends with their worst nightmare. 
Something more must be done to help gain their trust, and my good deed has yet 
to be completed."
The captain did not ask the obvious question because it knew that the answer was 
forthcoming. Prilicla went on. "My close-range analysis of the second survivor's 
emotional radiation indicates that its body is so debilitated that it barely 
retains the ability to think coherently. There is increasing physical 
discomfort, combined with a feeling of urgency and intense, personal fear that 
is characteristic of a being who is close to terminal suffocation, or 
dehydration, or both. To complete our good deed more repairs are needed, to 
restore their air and working fluid supply."
"So now you've delusions of being a plumber as well as a electrician," said the 
captain, and laughed. "Right, Doctor, what exactly will you need?"
"As before, friend Fletcher, I need directions," Prilicla replied, "because I 
have no idea how to proceed. But first I want to show the robot, who is the eyes 
for at least one of the survivors the sections of damaged piping that I'll be 
trying to repair or replace. While I'm doing that, you can assess the situation 
and tell me what needs to be done and how to go about doing it using replacement 
material and basic, non-powered tools from Rhabwar.
"Also," he went on, "I've noticed traces of vapor around some of the fractured 
piping in here, indicating the escape of residual atmosphere or moisture 
although it could, I suppose, be the remains of a toxic fluid used in a 
hydraulic actuator. While you're assessing the repair requirements with me, I'll 
bag samples and use my medical analyzer on it. If it is air or water rather than 
something toxic, please reproduce it in bulk and send it over in transparent 
containers. If the containers are marked with the same color-codings as that of 
the supply pipes we're going to replace, that might further reassure the 
survivors. Leave everything loosely tethered to the hull where I came on board 
for me to pick up.
"We've fixed it so that they can talk to each other," he ended, "but the 
conversation will be short if one of them stops breathing."
The next two hours he passed surveying the repair job, identifying the 
color-codings, and isolating the fractured piping to be joined. He knew that the 
work would be less delicate than splicing the damaged wiring, but the captain 
had grave doubts about his ability to perform it.
"This isn't anything like brain surgery, Doctor," it said. "What you'll need is 
brute force rather than delicacy of touch. Your digits were never made to handle 
manually-operated metal-cutters, the only kind these people will allow near 
them, and heavy spanners. And your body is far too fragile to exert the leverage 
that may be required. A pair of Earth-human hands with muscular backup are 
needed for this job. I should be in there helping you."
Prilicla did not reply, and the captain went on quickly, "I'll run another 
external visual for them, the one showing ship repairs being carried out 
simultaneously by several different species including Earth-humans. After what 
you've already done for them, they might be more inclined to forget their DBDG 
phobia enough to trust me a little. I'll wear a lightweight suit, with no 
powered instruments other than the radio and a small cutting torch, and carry 
the piping and tools in transparent containers as you suggested. Working 
together the repairs will take a fraction of the time you'd need otherwise, and 
if one of them is running out of air ..."
"I'm sorry, that will not be possible right now . .." he began.
"At least let me try, Doctor," the other broke in. "I can be over there with all 
we'll need in less than an hour."
"... Because, friend Fletcher," he ended, "in less than ten minutes' time, as 
soon as I finish analyzing these air and fluid samples, Ill be asleep."
CHAPTER 19
As Prilicla had expected, the robot crew member's actions showed great agitation 
on the part of its organic controller when the captain met him outside the hull 
and tried to enter the ship. He had to point several times at the lengths of 
piping the other was carrying and demonstrate, both by slicing one of the 
lengths of piping into pieces with the tiny flame of the cutter and then by 
turning on the cylinder taps briefly and releasing a small quantity of their 
contents into space to show that they contained only gas, before the captain was 
allowed to come on board. By the time they were in the damaged control section 
it was clear from the emotional radiation of both survivors that the DBDG was 
feared as much as it was trusted, and that the emotional balance could swing 
either way.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "do not make any sudden movements that might be 
mistaken for a threat. In fact, until they become accustomed to your presence it 
would be better if you did nothing except pass tools and parts to me, and 
generally give the impression that I am your superior until I indicate"
"As you are fond of reminding me, Doctor," it said dryly, "on the disaster site 
you have the rank."
The words were sarcastic but the emotional radiation that accompanied them was 
free of rancor. Prilicla went on. "... until
I indicate to the survivors by acting out the requirement several times that I 
need your physical assistance. We're lucky that their emotional radiation will 
tell me whether or not they understand what I'm trying to do."
It wasn't very long before he ran into trouble. One of the piping conduits had 
been twisted out of true so that the joints and lock-nuts were jammed. They were 
too tight, or at least too tight for Prilicla to move.
Several times he went through the motions of trying to loosen it, then he 
pointed at the captain's larger and stronger hands, withdrew, and indicated that 
the other should take over. The robot edged closer, its damaged metal surfaces 
somehow reflecting the fear and concern that its masters were feeling.
"You take over, friend Fletcher," he said. "But move slowly, they're still 
terrified of you."
The captain had to move slowly because it required several minutes of maximum 
effort, and the cooling element in its suit was just barely keeping the 
perspiration from fogging its visor, before the sticking lock-nut was loosened, 
removed, and fitted with a joint that would take the replacement piping. It 
chose a length that was already fitted with a T-junction and valve, and it took 
much less time for it to cut the pipe to size and make the join. Prilicla passed 
in the length of hose from the two air tanks, which was attached to the 
junction. Several times the captain indicated the color-coding on the old and 
new piping and the tanks. The robot had moved into the inspection compartment 
and was crowding the captain but not hampering its hands.
"I'm detecting great anxiety," said Prilicla; then, reassuringly, "but there is 
also a feeling of comprehension. I think they understand what we're trying to do 
for them. I'm turning on the air now."
The earlier analyses had shown that the survivor's atmosphere was similar to 
that used by the majority of the warmblooded, oxygen-breathing species. No 
attempt had been made to include the trace quantities of other gases so that the 
mixture
going in was in the usual proportion of oxygen to nitrogen. For several minutes 
there was no emotional reaction either from the distressed survivor or the other 
who was in contact with it; then, suddenly, a slow trembling shook Prilicla's 
whole body.
"What's wrong?" said the captain.
"Nothing," he replied. "The breathing distress of the second survivor is being 
treated although it is still suffering, possibly from hunger, thirst, or 
injuries, and both of them are now radiating intense, positive feelings of 
relief and gratitude which are giving me emotional pleasure. They are still 
afraid of you, but their hatred and distrust are diminishing. Well done, friend 
Fletcher."
"Well done yourself," said the captain, radiating embarrassment at the 
compliment. "Now that we've helped it to breathe, let's see if we can give it 
something to drink and eat as well. There is staining around the broken end of 
one of these pipes that looks like it might be dried-out liquid food. If your 
analyzer confirms that, we could"
"No, friend Fletcher," he broke in, "there might not be time for that. 
Psychologically the second survivor's condition has improved but I feel the 
presence of increasingly severe debilitation associated with physical trauma. 
From now on we have to know exactly what we're doing, or be told exactly what to 
do, and do it fast. You brought spare air tanks, more than was needed for the 
recent first-aid operation. If we empty them, would there be enough atmospheric 
pressure to enable us to breathe and allow the transmission of sound?"
He felt the other's initial puzzlement dissolve into comprehension as it said, 
"So you're going to try talking to them and asking for directions. If we knew 
anything about their communications setup, especially how they convert radio 
into audio frequency, we could simply talk on our own radios. As it is, we 
aren't sure yet whether or not they have ears."
It shook its head and went on. "The answer to your question is, I don't know. 
This section was close to the area of hull damage and might leak like a sieve. 
We could try."
Prilicla said, "Yes, but not here. We'll move back to the undamaged section with 
the first survivor. All of the access panels in that compartment are a tight 
fit, probably an airtight fit, as is the entrance door and the one into the area 
containing the survivor. This is probably a crew safety measure and part of the 
ship design philosophy. To increase the effect I'll spray on some of my plastic 
sealant. It won't stop the doors from being opened later, but it will ensure 
minimum leakage. While I'm doing that, you will want to make arrangements with 
Rhabwar."
"That I will," said the captain. It withdrew from the tiny inspection chamber, 
closed the access hatch tightly, and began talking rapidly into its suit radio 
as it followed him to the other control section. By the time it had finished 
talking, Prilicla had the compartment sealed and compressed air was hissing 
visibly and then audibly from the fully opened tank valves.
"We don't seem to be losing any air," said the captain after a few minutes, "and 
the pressure is high enough to carry sound, or even to open our helmets, 
supposing we were mad enough to do that."
"I believe we are mad enough, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "Folding back our 
helmets will be a further sign that we trust them and wish to be friends, as 
well as removing the small additional voice distortion caused by our external 
speakers. I hope our robot friend can hear and speak as well as see. Is Rhabwar 
ready?"
"Projector and translation computer standing by," the captain replied, 
unsealing its helmet. "You speak first, Doctor. A privilege of rank."
With the words there was a complex, background feeling of excitement, 
expectation, and minor relief characteristic of a personally embarrassing 
situation to be avoided should the attempt fail. Prilicla's own feeling was that 
it wouldn't.
He bent a forelimb almost double and pointed at himself. Slowly and distinctly 
he said, "Prilicla, Prilicla, Prilicla. I am Prilicla." Then he pointed behind 
towards the inner door, and waited. When there was no response he indicated the 
captain and nodded for it to try. The rapid, musical clicking of untranslated 
Cinrusskin speech was difficult for other species to follow.
"Fletcher, Fletcher, Fletcher," said the captain, indicating itself before 
pointing in the same direction as Prilicla.
The robot made a short, sharp sound like the squeaking of a rusty hinge.
"Was that a word, dammit," said the captain in an angry undertone, "or a 
malfunctioning robot?"
"A word, maybe more than one," Prilicla replied. "It heard us, and I felt a 
flash of understanding and urgency. Maybe its words are rapid, compressed, as in 
Nallajim. Let's try again, and speak very slowly. Maybe it will do the same.
"Pril-ic-la," he said slowly three times, repeating the earlier motions. The 
captain said and did the same.
"Keet," said the robot. A moment later it added, "Pil-ik-la, Flet-cha."
Prilicla gestured towards the sealed door in front of them and said, "Keet," 
then pointed back at the compartment they had just left.
"Jas-am," came the reply.
"We're talking!" For a moment the captain's relief and pleasure at the 
breakthrough swamped most of the survivor's emotional radiation, but not the 
urgency.
"Not yet," Prilicla said. "We're exchanging personal-name sounds, but it's only 
a start."
"Rhabwar here," the voice of Haslam sounding in their earpieces said. "I'm 
afraid the Doctor is right, Captain. The computer needs more for an accurate 
translation: verbs, accompanying actions, explanations, and a bigger vocabulary 
to link the words together."
"Friend Haslam," he said, "Show the pictures of planets and
native species again, please, but just those for Earth and Cinruss. Then patch 
in one of the survivor life-forms and a world with no geographical features."
Prilicla watched the tiny repeater screen in his suit as this was done. He said, 
"Fletcher is from Earth, Prilicla is from Cinruss, Keet is from ..." and 
waited.
Without hesitation the voice from the robot said, "Flet-cha, Ert; Pil-ik-la, 
Cin-russ; Keet, Tro-lan."
"We're getting there, Doctor," Haslam said excitedly; then, in a tone almost of 
apology it went on. "Names and places of origin help, but they aren't enough for 
the computer to begin structuring the language. We still need verbs and related 
actions."
Unlike its outsize parent in Sector General, Rhabwar's translation computer did 
not carry a record of all of the intelligence-bearing clicks, moans, hisses, and 
chirps that were used as speech by the members of the Galactic Federation, a 
vast store of data which enabled it to compare the input of the new languages 
that were discovered from time to time and produce a translation. But the 
ambulance ship had proved on several previous occasions that it could do the 
same job, with a little on-site help.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, pointing at the material in the other's transparent 
satchel, "I need a short piece of fine cable that can be pulled apart easily, 
and a short length of piping. Do you have one that is thin-walled and breaks 
without shattering into pieces?"
He felt the captain's puzzlement dissolve in a flood of comprehension. It 
produced the cable, wrapped it around his hand and pulled it apart, then he 
producednot a pipe, but a length of thin sleevingand snapped it in two before 
handing the four pieces to him. It said, "Yes and no, Doctor. This breaks 
without splintering, but it needs an Earth-human's muscles to do it."
Prilicla indicated a section of undamaged piping through one of the transparent 
access hatches, then pointed back the way they had come towards the other 
survivor's position. Holding a piece of the broken pipe in each hand, he brought 
them slowly together at the faces of the original fracture and did the same with 
the severed wiring. He repeated the movements several time before speaking.
"Wire, pipes," he said, pointing at the captain and himself. "We join wires and 
pipes. We fix wires and pipes. We repair" he made a wide gesture that included 
the ship all around them "everything."
Through its robot crew member's sensors, the first survivor already knew that 
they repaired things, although it had not known the word for what they had been 
doing. He waited, straining to detect the first feelings of comprehension that 
would tell him that it understood the other, more important message that he was 
trying to send. And when the crew robot spoke again, he knew that it did.
"Pil-ik-la, Flet-cha," it said. "Fix Jasam."
The captain gave a loud, barking laugh of sheer relief, which it cut short 
abruptly in case it might have been mistaken for a threatening sound by the 
survivor. On Rhabwar, Haslam sounded equally pleased.
"That's it!" said the lieutenant. "We have a translation. Just talk to it 
naturally and mime only if you think it might not understand a new action. The 
conversation will be a bit stilted until you build up a vocabulary, but the 
computer is happy. I'm relaying the translation through your headsets. Nice 
work. Any other instructions?"
Prilicla's body was shaking with a slow, even tremor of pleasure and relief 
that was tempered slightly by the remembered emotional radiation from the second 
survivor, Jasam, which indicated that clinically it was in very bad shape.
"Stand by, friend Haslam," he said. "I need you to project more pictures. Edit 
the previous run to show only the recovery of space-wreck casualties, then add 
something on their transfer to and treatment on Rhabwar. Be brief regarding the 
treatment, too much detail on surgical procedures might give the impression
that we go in for physical torture. Concentrate on the before-and-after aspects, 
the badly injured casualties, and then showing them cured. Run them as soon as 
you can."
Turning towards the inner door and the robot hovering in front of it, he brought 
the two pieces of pipe together slowly and said, "I fix slowly," and repeated 
the action and words several times; then he moved them quickly into contact and 
said, "I fix quickly." Then he pointed back the way they had come and added, "I 
fix Jasam quickly," emphasizing the last word.
He felt understanding and agreement coloring the ever-present deep concern, and 
said, "Keet, the word for that is 'yes.''
He pointed in the direction of Jasam and used the broken pipe to indicate, he 
hoped, that they were both broken. Then he raised a hand to his eyes before 
pointing first at an undamaged section of piping and then at the inner door of 
Keet's compartment.
"To fix the broken Jasam," he mimed as he said the words, "I must see the 
unbroken Keet."
Again there was understanding, but with it there was a sudden return of the 
earlier fear and hatred.
"Keep that accursed druul away from us!" it said, so loudly that it must have 
been its equivalent of a shout. "I don't trust it! We are both weakened and 
helpless and it will eat us. We thought that interstellar space, at least, would 
be clear of such vermin!"
Prilicla tried to ignore the captain's scandalized emotional radiation, and said 
reassuringly, "Don't be afraid, Fletcher won't touch you. Fletcher fixes 
machines. Prilicla fixes people."
The captain's low-voiced comment was lost in the sound of the inner door hissing 
open.
It revealed a small compartment whose interior was an almost-solid mass of 
support brackets, piping, and cable runs leading into a flattened oval dish at 
its center. The upper half of the receptacle had a sealed, transparent cover 
that gave a clear view of the co-captain of the ship. Physically Keet was 
classification CHLI and closely resembled its robot crew member in size and 
shape except that instead of the silvery metal skin there was
the veined brownish-pink of organic tissue. A continuous 
control-and-sensor-input panel laterally encircled the inner surface of the 
body container, and the operating keys were within easy reach of the creature's 
short digits. Its food, water-supply, and waste-extraction systems had been 
surgically implanted into the relevant organs.
Prilicla's body shook briefly with a feeling composed of pity, revulsion, and 
the claustrophobic fear known only to free-flying beings like himself when he 
realized that the ship's organic crew had been confined to their control and 
life-support pods with no freedom to move, not even around their own ship.
They had been installed with the rest of the ship's equipment.
From his medical satchel he took his scanner, reversed it so that Keet could see 
the viewplate, and demonstrated its function by touching it against parts of his 
own body, before moving it close to the other's pod.
"This will not hurt you," he said. "It will enable me to see inside your body so 
that I can understand and fix anything that is wrong."
"Will you be able to fix Jasam, too?"
Its speech was going and coming through his translator now, clearly and with the 
possibility for misunderstanding being reduced with every word. The prime rule 
during a first-contact situation was to find out as much a possible about the 
other life-form so as to further reduce that risk, and to tell the truth at all 
times.
But it was also sound medical practice to encourage a patient to talk about 
itself, or any other pleasant subject in which it was interested, so as to take 
its mind off a frightening or possibly embarrassing examination.
"I will try to fix Jasam," he said. "But to do that, I must first discover 
everything I can about you and your people. For the best results I would like to 
have full knowledge, even though there is no way of knowing which pieces of 
information will be
helpful during the repairs, so just tell me about your partner, your lives, your 
customs, the food you eat, and the things you like to do. In the event of an 
unsuccessful repair, which is a faint possibility, who and where are your next 
of kin? You are a completely new and scientifically advanced life-form and 
everything you say will be interesting and useful.
"Tell me about yourself, and your world."
CHAPTER 20
A few minutes into the examination there was an interruption. The two courier 
ships had arrived and, although they were keeping station at the requested 
distance, their impatience for a full report on the situation could almost be 
felt. The courier captains' voices were being relayed through Rhabwar to the 
alien ship so that Prilicla and Fletcher, but not the alien casualties, could 
hear them.
"This is not a good time to stop and make reports, friend Fletcher," said 
Prilicla without looking up from the scanner. "Just tell them that..."
"I know what to tell them," said the other, and went on briskly. "A very 
delicate first-contact situation is proceeding as we speak. The alien vessel has 
a crew of two, both physiological classification CHLI; one is seriously injured 
and the other less so. The medical examination and the contact procedure are 
being conducted by Dr. Prilicla and are complicated by the fact that the 
casualties have a rabid fear of all DBDG life-forms regardless of size, 
apparently because of our close resemblance to a natural enemy on their home 
planet. All of the proceedings so far have been recorded in case of accidents, 
but I ask that you wait to avoid taking back an incomplete report that could be 
updated from hour to hour."
"Understood, sir," came the reply. "Over and listening out."
At first the casualty seemed anxious to talk about the druul, and how much its 
race hated and feared them, rather than about its world or itself. The proximity 
of Fletcher was doubtless responsible for that. Prilicla continued to speak and 
to radiate verbal and emotional reassurance while he plied his scanner and the 
captain kept its distance. Gradually the subject widened but it always veered 
back to the hated druul. Keet's species called themselves the Trolanni, and 
their world Trolann, and over the past few centuries it had become a savage, 
frightful place of unending war for its diminishing resources against the druul 
and the other organic and inorganic pollutants that were fast making the 
once-populous world uninhabitable for both of its intelligent species, as well 
as for most other forms of life above the insect level.
Many attempts had been made to check the self-poisoning of their overcrowded 
world and to impose strict controls on the high degree of industrialization 
needed to support it if irreversible chemical changes were not to increase the 
level of toxicity to the point where the planetary biosphere would no longer be 
able to support life. But preventative and curative measures on that scale 
required personal sacrifices, self-control, and the cooperation of everyone 
concerned. A large minority of the Trolanni, and all of the druul, refused to 
give it.
Possibly there were individuals who thought differently, but as a population the 
druul decided that the problem would be solved if the Trolanni and their food 
supply were considered a natural resource and used exclusively for the benefit 
and continued survival of the druul.
As a species the druul were small, bipedal, vicious, fast-breeding, and utterly 
implacable where enemies, sapient or otherwise, were concerned. From the dawn 
of history their rate of scientific and technological achievement had been equal 
to the Trolanni, so that the wars they had fought had been forced to a stop 
rather than being won. In spite of many peace overtures by the Trolanni, the two 
species had lived in a state of unfriendly coexistence until a war that was no 
longer stoppable was being fought for the diminishing resources of the stinking, 
polluted, near-corpse that was their planet. For many generations the druul had 
practiced cannibalism, eating even the sickly young or the elderly or otherwise 
unproductive people of their own race. They could not be defeated because there 
were always more of them hungry and ready to fight. Apart from a few pockets of 
weakening resistance and the latest Trolanni technology which defended them, the 
planet belonged to the druul.
The only solution was for the Trolanni to find a new, unpolluted and peaceful 
home.
"You found a new home here," said Prilicla gently. "What went wrong?"
"A technical failure of some kind," said Keet, radiating feelings of minor 
embarrassment and apology. "I'm not the propulsion specialist. After finding an 
ideal world it seemed as if we couldn't return home with the news. But we had 
signaling devices, two of them, untried because none of the searchsuits had 
used them before then. The first one malfunctioned and seriously damaged the 
hull. The second one was modified, but it destroyed the doll who released it. 
Then the ship with the druuls in it arrived."
"They weren't druuls," said Prilicla. "It was a rescue ship that came to help 
you."
"I'm sorry," said Keet. "I know that, now."
Prilicla withdrew the scanner and moved back. He had all the physiological data 
he needed for a preliminary assessment of the other casualty's condition, but a 
lot more non-medical information was needed. He said, "I'll stay in contact 
with you, but we're moving over to look at Jasam now. Tell it not to be afraid; 
neither friend Fletcher nor myself mean it any harm. Why did you attack the 
first rescue ship?"
"We didn't," it replied quickly. "It attacked our protective suit..."
For the few minutes it took them to transfer to the other control module, 
Prilicla listened to Keet's reassuring words to its life-mate and felt the 
growing trust in Fletcher and himself that accompanied them even though they 
were feelings that Jasam had yet to share.
"... That is what the druul have been doing to us for hundreds of years," it 
continued, "and many of our scientists think that they no longer know why they 
do it. As individuals they are predominantly machines designed to attack and 
penetrate our protective suits, as a nut is cracked to uncover its edible 
kernel, although all too often the kernel itself is destroyed by the ferocity of 
the onslaught so that there is no reward for the tiny, organic fraction that 
controls the machines they have become. We Trolanni, at least, are whole, 
sapient, and civilized, if very sickly, people inside our protective suits, 
although with this two-body searchsuit with its vastly greater proportion of 
machine-to-or-ganic life, we were forced to become more like the druul.. .."
So they thought of their ship as a searchsuit, a bigger, more complex and 
specialized version of the individual protective garment than those that the 
planet-based druul forced them to wear. Interesting. Prilicla could feel the 
captain's mounting excitement as Keet continued speaking, but he knew that 
friend Fletcher would not interrupt the flow of information with a question that 
would shortly be answered.
".. . In this instance," it went on, "our hull protection was designed to 
safeguard us for the short time we were in atmosphere before we entered space, 
where so far the druul have been unable to go. The protection operates 
continuously in a state of high alert, and instantly disrupts the 
computer-operated control and life-support systems of any attacking 
machine-encased druul. But we never expected to find them, or beings just like 
them, between the stars. That was terrifying for us and there was nothing we 
could do."
"It would help us to help Jasam and yourself," Prilicla said gently, "if your 
protective device could be switched off. Can it?"
"No," said Keet, "at least not by us. To do that, specialist knowledge and 
devices are needed and these are available only on our home world. It must not 
be switched off because its protection is needed during our second trip through 
atmosphere, hopefully on our way home to report success in finding a new world. 
But instead ... Please, will Jasam live?"
Sometimes, Prilicla thought, as he noted the damage to its life-mate as well as 
the traces of dried body fluid that were staining the joins where the metal and 
organic interface was visible, it was not always advisable to tell the truth 
even in a first-contact situation.
"There is a strong possibility that we'll be able to save its life," he said.
"But not in here," said the captain on their personal frequency that did not go 
through the translator. Quickly and concisely it went on to explain why while 
Prilicla tried to provide a more optimistic translation for the two Trolanni, 
continuing his scanner examination of the second casualty as he spoke.
Jasam's injuries had been due to the structural damage to its side of the 
searchsuit, caused by the explosive failure of the first beacon they had 
released, which in turn had caused multiple fracturing and dislocation of the 
life-support plumbing that had been surgically implanted into its body. Its 
resultant external and internal wounds were extensive and serious, he explained, 
but with the right treatment they would not be life-threatening. He personally 
had repaired organic damage that was much more severe and had returned the 
entity concerned to full health.
"But in this case," he went on, "the right treatment would first involve 
removing Jasam and yourself from your vessel"
"And leave us without a suit!" Keet broke in. "And, and life support? We've 
already lost our dollsJasam's destroyed, and mine damaged beyond the ability to 
do sensitive repair work. No!"
They called their robot crew members "dolls," Prilicla thought, and the 
accompanying emotional radiation was indicative of the feelings held for a 
friend and helper as well as for a pet or plaything. Curiousbut satisfying that 
curiosity would have to wait until the more urgent problem of removing them from 
their ship-sized protective suit was settled.
"On Trolann," he went on, projecting reassurance with every ounce of empathic 
energy in his mind, "there must be doctors, healers, beings who cure or repair 
organic disease or damage. To perform this work effectively there must be easy 
access to the site of the trouble, so am I correct in thinking that they prefer 
the sick or injured patient to be unclothed?"
"Yes," said Keet. "But that is on Trolann. Out here ..."
"Out here," said Prilicla gently, "you would be much safer. Rhabwar, the ship 
that you see nearby, was expressly designed for and contains all the equipment 
necessary to do such work, and it has done it many times. But the equipment is 
both bulky and highly sensitive. If it was to be moved to your vessel, a 
difficult job in itself, there would be a serious risk of the ship's protective 
devices disabling its computer-operated circuitry, as it does with the druul 
machines. There isn't much time left. Your life-support consumables, Jasam's 
especially, have leaked away and are close to exhaustion.
"If both of you are to survive," he ended, "You must agree and I must act, 
quickly."
There was a moment's silence while Keet radiated growing uncertainty, then it 
said, "Both of us? I, I thought one of us would stay in our searchsuit until the 
organic and mechanical repairs were done, then Jasam would be reinserted and ... 
There is very little organic damage to myself."
"I know," said Prilicla. "But I will need your help and advice for the 
extraction process. You will be conscious and aware and will be able to tell us 
exactly what we have to do at every stage, and we will be able to use the 
experience more easily to detach your more seriously injured life-mate. We have 
already analyzed and reproduced your food, air, and working fluid, the last two 
of which are very similar to our own. My present plan is to put both of you into 
a covered litter that contains all your life-support requirements, and where you 
will be able to give close, emotional support to Jasam during the transfer to 
our ship and the organic-repair work afterwards."
There was another silence, then Keet said, "Detaching Jasam is a difficult and 
specialized job that is done only in case of an onboard emergency by a doll. 
Jasam's doll was killed in the first explosion and mine was damaged in the 
second. The control circuitry serving the forward cluster of fine, peripheral 
digits, the ones needed for a complete body extraction, was burned out. My doll 
is incapable of the delicate work that would be required. It is certain that we 
will both die."
"That is not certain," said Prilicla, "and is not even likely. Controlled by our 
own sensitive digits will be even finer and more delicate mechanisms that are 
capable of doing the work. We are widely experienced in the extraction of 
damaged organic casualties from the wreckage of starships, and friend Fletcher 
will make a very good doll."
The captain made a noise that did not translate.
CHAPTER 21
When Lieutenant Dodds and the covered litter arrived it was met by Keet's doll 
and quickly escorted forward to Prilicla and Fletcher in the control section. 
Guided by its mistress and in spite of the impaired movement of its finer 
digits, the doll was able to help and occasionally hinder Prilicla and the 
captain during the long and physically uncomfortable process of detaching and 
extricating Keet from the mass of control, communications, and life-support 
plumbing. It was a present and obvious subject of interest to both Fletcher and 
himself, and in an attempt to keep the Trolanni's mind off the continuing 
discomfort they were inflicting as well as its deep concern for Jasam, whose 
communications line they had been forced to sever temporarily, Prilicla began 
to question it with gentle persistence about the dolls.
It was an interesting change of subject.
"I don't know why you find them of such interest," Keet protested, radiating 
minor embarrassment. "They are toys, playthings, used mainly by the very young, 
or some adults who feel the need to remind themselves of the kind of people that 
we used to be in the past, when we could move freely and swim and climb and play 
together and touch without being weighed down and smothered by heavy and 
uncomfortable protective suits. The dolls are lifelike, life-sized, and closely 
modeled after their owners, and while the children's are simple both in mind and 
structure, those of the adults are highly sophisticated, and are capable of a 
wide range of supportive functions and recreational activities which their 
owners can enjoy vicariously and which in many cases answers a psychological 
need.
"Jasam and I," Keet went on, "were to be enclosed permanently in a searchsuit 
where, for operational reasons, we would be close but unable to make physical 
contact for the rest of our lives. The project psychologists decided that a crew 
of two specialized dollsin design and function the most versatile and 
intelligent to be builtwould operate and maintain our search-suit and, it was 
thought, the fact that they were exact copies of ourselves would help reduce our 
feelings of loss and loneliness and so maintain our sanity."
Prilicla reached into the restricted space the captain and the robot had cleared 
for him in the dense mass of plumbing, and put a tiny clamp on the fine tube 
that carried the liquefied food from the nearly empty reservoir through Keet's 
abdominal wall. It was a little like brain surgery, he thought, involving as it 
did the manipulation of delicate organs in a very confined space. He 
concentrated on the work for several minutes until he was satisfied with it, 
then withdrew before speaking.
"Did they?" he said.
"They did," it ended, "until we found this fresh, lovely, and untouched world 
and our position beacons blew up, and your rescue ship blundered onto the 
scene." It paused, then added, "I don't think you, or your druul-like helper, 
are blundering now."
"Thank you," said Prilicla, knowing that Keet's feelings were backing up its 
words. "But now we have to transfer you to the litter and attend to some 
superficial wounding caused by the extraction. The treatment will be quick and 
simple, a few sutures and the application of a healing ointment suited to your 
metabolism. You won't have an adverse reaction to it because it is identical to 
one of the medications carried in your doll's medical kit which, you will 
remember, we analyzed and reproduced earlier. Ready everyone?"
It was like moving a limp, half-cooked pancake through a three-dimensional maze 
of barbed wire, the captain said on their private frequency. Prilicla had no 
idea what a pancake was, his only Earth-human food weakness being spaghetti, and 
had to take the other's word for it. But finally they had Keet out of its 
control cocoon, its wounds treated, and resting comfortably in the litter.
"What now?" it said.
"Now," Prilicla replied, "we seal the litter and move it into Jasam's section, 
reconnect the communications line so you'll be able to tell it what has been 
happening while friend Fletcher and I do the same for our own people who must 
make preparations to receive two new casualties. After that... My apologies, I 
need to sleep again."
While they were moving the litter to the other section of the control center, 
Prilicla quickly explained the situation to Pathologist Murchison while 
transmitting visuals of the scene that were being relayed to the surface by 
Rhabwar. The ground facility was more spacious than the ambulance ship's 
casualty deck, and all of his medical staff as well as the Terragar survivors 
were there. Keet and Jasam were talking together and the captain was about to 
begin his situation report, both of which were being recorded in case he needed 
to refer to them later, when he suddenly lost touch with reality.
Captain Fletcher looked at the sleeping Prilicla, lowered his voice, and, using 
a frequency that the two aliens could overhear, spoke briskly.
"Courier Vessel One," he said. "We can now report that the distressed alien ship 
is non-hostile and that the damage inflicted on Terragar was due to a 
combination of ignorance and a close-range defense system of high lethality that 
instantly kills any ship's computer-controlled systems, but not the living 
organic contents, that touches it. This defense system remains active and is an 
extreme danger to any investigating shipregardless of size and armamentmaking 
a close approach. It is imperative that you remain at your present distance and 
that all other vessels be forbidden to enter this system until a countermeasure 
has been found.
"The ship's planet of origin is Trolann," it went on, "location as yet unknown, 
where the Trolanni are losing a war that has lasted for many centuries with 
another indigenous species, the druul, with whom it has been impossible to come 
to an accommodation. Physically the druul bear a close resemblance to the DBDG 
physiological classification, a fact which initially made the first-contact 
procedure very difficult because they looked on Rhabwars Earth-human personnel 
as natural enemies rather than rescuers. Now I believe that we have done enough 
to earn their trust..."
"Our limited trust," Keet broke in. "I trust Prilicla, and to a lesser extent 
you, because you do as it asks and seem anxious to help us, but Jasam remains 
fearful and untrusting. About the other ones who look like dmuls, I, too, am 
uncertain."
"But that," said the captain, "is because you haven't seen them helping you as 
Prilicla and I have been doing. Their work is in the background, but it is being 
done. They are not, never were, nor ever will be like the druul. May I continue 
with my report?
"The Trolanni are of physiological classification CHLI," he went on when Keet 
did not reply, "warm-blooded oxygen-breathers, although there is very little 
breathable oxygen remaining on their heavily polluted planet. They describe 
themselves as an embattled minority of... Keet, what is the total number of 
Trolanni on your planet?"
"Just under one hundred thousand," it replied promptly.
"As few as that?" said the captain, its face paling as it returned to its 
report and went on. "In that case, and bearing in mind the fact that the 
Trolanni have a limited space-travel capability, I strongly recommend that the 
Federation mount a
disaster-relief and evacuation operation to move them from their virtually 
uninhabitable planet to another world, the world below us, in fact, which Keet 
and Jasam found for their people before their ship was damaged in an attempt to 
signal its location. I further recommend that provision be made to interdict all 
druul offensive operations until the Trolanni are evacuated safely, after which, 
if cultural reeducation is possible, we should determine the druul's needs for 
continued survival and ..."
Inside the litter canopy, Keet's body was twitching in great agitation. It said, 
"Aren't you going to kill them all, or at least let them die fighting among 
themselves? That's what they'll do if there's nobody else to fight. Or maybe you 
can't kill them. Maybe you're favorably disposed towards them, more so than 
towards the Trolanni, because the druul look like you. I'm sorry, but I think we 
were right about you from the start. A helpful, apparently friendly druul is 
still a druul. You disappoint us, Fletcher."
The captain shook his head. "Our physically similar appearance has nothing to 
do with it. On Earth there are creatures shaped like humans. In our prehistory, 
we developed intelligence and ultimately civilization, but they did not, and to 
this day remain non-sapient animals. They are not evil in themselves but are 
governed by animal instincts that sometimes make them a danger to humans, and 
for this reason they are confined, restricted, and cared for in their own areas 
where they cannot harm us. If the druul are thinking animals, implacable, 
vicious, unable to be taught civilized ways, or are incapable of governing their 
own instincts and behavior, thatif it is possible for us to do itis what would 
happen to them. They would be isolated and Trolann would be interdicted by the 
Federation and no contact with any other species allowed.
"But we would not exterminate a species just because its long-term enemy thought 
it was warranted," the captain ended. "The druul and you may not be able to view 
each other or your problem with objectivity. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to 
return to my report___"
The captain resumed his description of the situation on the alien ship and their 
plans for resolving it while at the same time, by implication, mentally 
preparing the Trolanni casualties for what was to come by describing the 
structural problems of casualty extraction before the medical problems could be 
solved. But Keet was finding it difficult to remain silent.
"Prilicla and you are all right, I suppose," Keet said, "but are strangers of 
your kind going to be handling us? That would frighten Jasam and me very much. 
He might hurt himself even more trying to fight you off. We'd rather Prilicla 
did everything. We like it."
"Everybody likes Prilicla," said Fletcher, looking aside at the sleeping empath, 
"but physically it is too weak to do everything itself. That's why it will need 
heavy cutting equipment and the help of Dodds and Chen, two other Earth-humans 
like myself, to clear a path to and enclose the area in a pressure envelope 
before Prilicla can begin treating Jasam's injuries. But all of us, in my ship 
and on the surface are the same as Prilicla. We all want to help cure Jasam and 
yourself. While we're doing that, you'll come to know all of us, and trust us, 
and tell us how we can help your people."
For a long time there was silence while the captain crawled about in the 
wreckage surrounding Jasam's control pod, marking structural members that would 
have to be cut away, lengths of plumbing to be sealed off, and talking quietly. 
Everything he said formed part of his report includingalthough the Trolanni 
might not have realized itthe conversations with Keet and all the recorded 
material on the Terragar landing and casualties.
Everything went into a first-contact report.
"Jasam is very worried," said Keet suddenly, "in case there are healers on the 
surface who look like you. If there are, he doesn't want them to touch him. He 
says he'd rather die. Why don't we go to the hospital you showed us, where there 
are many healers who don't look like the druul?"
In a first-contact situation the rule was to tell the truth but
to keep it as simple as possible. The captain said, "My ship has been ordered to 
remain in this vicinity to warn off any other vessels who might want to 
investigate your searchsuit and suffer damage as a result. On Rhabwar there are 
four Earth-human ship's officers including myself, and four healers. Prilicla, 
you already know, is in charge; then an Earth-human female called Murchison who 
looks, well, somewhat different than me; a Kel-gian who has twenty legs and is 
covered with mobile fur; and a shape-changer called Danalta who can look like 
anything or everything, even a Trolanni if it thought that shape would be 
reassuring to you or your life-mate. There are also three Earth-humans who are 
badly damaged. The medical team, with the exception of Prilicla, are down there 
in a special healing facility, taking care of them. None of them, not even the 
Terragar casualties, will want to harm you while you get to know us better. 
Besides, the repairing of physical damage isn't everything. We think that it 
might make you feel better and assist your non-medical healing if you were to 
spend some time recuperating on the beautiful world Jasam and yourself have 
discovered for the Trolanni."
There was no reply, and the short silence was broken by the quiet voice of 
Prilicla speaking on the captain's private frequency.
"I've been awake for the past few minutes," he said, "and I could not have 
handled the situation better if I'd done it myself. Thank you, friend Fletcher. 
Keet is feeling greatly comforted and Jasam, who is still anxious and barely 
conscious, shares its life-mate's reassurance. This would be a good time to call 
in friends Dodds and Chen."
During the next three hours, while the damaged area surrounding Jasam's control 
pod was being isolated in a temporary pressure bubble and excised from its 
surrounding control actuators, plumbing, and wiring, the lines between 
technical and medical work were frequently blurred by the fact that Rhabwar's 
officers were doing much more delicate work than that being Performed by 
Prilicla. Even though he was not due to sleep for another four hours, by the 
time they were finished and Jasam
was sharing the other half of the pressure litter with Keet, he felt so tired 
that it was an effort for him not to lose consciousness prematurely. The 
captain, who had not slept for two Earth standard days and did not seem to be 
affected by fatigue, was concluding its report to the courier vessels.
"... Friendly relations have been established with the two Trolanni casualties 
who are ready for transfer to Rhabwar and immediate onward transportation to the 
surface medical station," he said crisply. "According to Dr. Prilicla, the 
being Keet has superficial injuries and is in no danger, but the other one, 
Jasam, is giving cause for concern. Urgent surgery is required, and the 
prognosis is uncertain. You have everything you need to know, but I suggest that 
you both remain on station, stay well clear of the alien ship's hull which is 
still active and a continuing danger, and wait a few hours for the latest good 
or bad news.
"From here on this is expected to be a routine medical matter," it ended, "and 
we cannot foresee anything going wrong."
CHAPTER 22
At the medical station the routines of the day had proceeded with a similar lack 
of drama, but the surroundings were beautiful, relaxing, and much too pleasant 
for boredom to be a consideration. The patients were in satisfactory medical and 
good psychological shape following their twice-daily immersion in the shallows 
and subsequent sun-drying, and had been moved indoors. The sun was within an 
hour of setting, with its close-to-horizontal light reflecting off the 
reddish-white breakers on a sea that was dark blue. It was the ideal time of day 
for another walk around the island.
Inevitably accompanied, Murchison thought irritably, by her shape-changing and 
by now totally redundant guardian angel.
There was no real reason, other than that she had never done so before and the 
team members and patients might worry, why she should be back inside the station 
before nightfall. But to reduce the unnecessary worrying all around, she decided 
not to break with tradition by jogging instead of walking the distance, and to 
stop only for a brief swim in her favorite beauty spot, a tiny, tree-fringed bay 
on the opposite side of the island.
She was nearing it, and the station was hidden by the curve of the shoreline 
behind her, when the sun began to set, although from experience she knew that 
there would be enough dusk left to see her way back. In the shallows Danalta was 
keeping pace with her, arrowing through the breaking surf and occasionally 
leaping into the air as it did its impression of a flying fish. She was running 
fast over the firm, damp sand with her eyes down so as to avoid the scattered 
white stones in her path when the shape-changer made a noise that did not 
translate, and flopped rapidly out of the water and onto the sand beside her. 
While it was still changing from an aquatic to a land mobile form, what had been 
one of its fins thickened into a hand and it pointed ahead.
This, Murchison thought as she slowed to a stop under the trees, is certainly an 
interesting change in the in the usual scenery.
It was a smooth, flattened mound covered with what looked like fibrous, 
greenish-brown vegetation, or possibly scales or a form of seaweed, that floated 
in the water with a narrow section of its forward edge projecting a few yards 
onto the sandy beach. It was large enough to fill a quarter of the tiny inlet 
and she was reminded of an outsize, beached whale.
"I'd say that this is one of the objects we saw from the high ground that first 
day," she said, "and now we're seeing it close-up. You have better vision than I 
have. Is it alive?"
Danalta, whose land shape was still indeterminate, enlarged an eye and said, "It 
has the general appearance of a large sea mammal, although the breathing 
orifices and fins are concealed from view or underwater. There is a slight 
overall body movement that is probably due to wave action rather than 
respiration. It may be alive and close to termination. But there is still a 
risk. Shall I investigate more closely?"
"We will investigate," she said, stressing the first word, "after we've 
reported this in. But I'd say the risk is minimal." She pointed to the sky above 
the beached creature and laughed quietly. "The vultures are gathering again and 
that's always a strong contraindication for casualty survivability."
The birds were circling stiff-winged as they rode the updrafts
from the sandy beach that was still radiating the day's heat, and they were 
lower and closer than she had ever seen them before. Both bodies and their 
wide-spreading, leathery wings were the same color and seemed to have the same 
texture as that of the beached creature, and they looked mean. Instinctively she 
moved back under the concealment of thick, overhanging branches, hoping they 
hadn't seen her.
Danalta remained motionless except for lengthening his eye-stalk and bending it 
up to look at them.
"They aren't birds," it said quietly, "they're flying machines, unpowered 
gliders. Each one has a pilot."
For a moment Murchison was too surprised to react, mentally or physically. This 
was supposed to be an uninhabited world. According to Rhabwar's sensors it was 
completely lacking in the signatures of cultivation, roads, electromagnetic 
radiation, industrial smoke pollution, or any of the signs normally produced by 
intelligent life, and certainly by an indigenous intelligence capable of 
building flying machines. It came to her suddenly that the reason why the two 
gliders were flying so low might be that their pilots wanted the high ground at 
the center of the island to conceal the operation from the view of the medical 
station in case someone there decided to look inland.
Fumbling in her haste, Murchison pulled her communicator out of the equipment 
pouch at her waist and had it almost to her lips when something large and soft 
and with many hairy legs landed on her back and shoulders. Simultaneously 
another one of them gripped her legs tightly so that she tripped and fell 
forwards, dropping the communicator as she instinctively put out both hands to 
keep her face from hitting the ground.
She was trying to reach for the communicator again when another one landed on 
her arm before grabbing her by the wrists and pulling them to her sides with 
small, hard pincers. She was lifted a few feet from the ground and her body was 
rotated laterally, and she felt her legs being wrapped together tightly in what 
-1 like very fine rope. The turns continued up and past her hips,
pinioning both hands and lower arms to her sides. She was able to get a close if 
intermittent look at her captor Spiders.
Two of them were holding and rolling her over while a third was producing from a 
body orifice the continuous, fine white strand that was wrapping her up. Three 
others were dropping lightly to the ground from overhanging branches on white 
strands that were almost too thin for her to to see, their brownish-green body 
coloration making them difficult to see against the vegetation until they 
landed. Each of them was holding a thick, stubbly crossbow with their bolts 
notched and bowstrings taut.
She had never had a fear of Earthly spiders, and there were many more visually 
abhorrent creatures among her friends and colleagues at Sector General, but that 
didn't mean that she liked everything that walked on eight hairy legs, 
especially, as now, when they were placing her life at risk.
Struggling to break free did no good because the thin strands were very tough 
and she succeeded only in leaving deep indentations and a few shallow cuts on 
her legs and forearms. She opened her mouth wide and deliberately made loud, 
whooshing sounds while inflating and deflating her lungs, hoping to demonstrate 
the need to go on breathing which she would not be able to do if the strands 
around her chest were too tight.
Whether they understood her body language or that had been their original 
intention she didn't know, but the white strands were exerting minimum 
compression on her rib cage. She could breathe comfortably but not too deeply 
unless she wanted to risk cutting herself. She could turn her head freely and 
even bend a little at the waist. One of them took an interest in her translator 
pack and tried to tug it free, but it and the medical pouch were an integral 
part of the equipment belt so the creature didn't succeed. When it persisted she 
made a noise to indicate that it was hurting her and it desisted. Then they 
rolled her face-upwards onto a hammock made from woven plant fiber of some
kind and four of them each lifted a corner and began carrying her towards the 
beach while the other two followed. One of them, the one who had tried to get 
her translator, picked up her communicator from the ground and began poking at 
it curiously. There was no sign of Danalta.
She didn't know what the shape-changer could do, but it should be able to think 
of something. So, Murchison thought angrily, should she. For a moment she 
wondered if she was generating her anger just to keep her growing fear at bay.
The sun had set but there was still enough light to see the beach clearly, and 
the object she had thought was a sea mammal. The smooth, outer covering was 
opening up to become a series of low, triangular sails resembling those of an 
old-time Earth felucca, and their supporting masts and rigging were still being 
raised, and the two flyers had landed and were half carrying, half dragging 
their gliders towards it. But her party, being closer, would board first. 
Plainly the spiders were excited because they were making low, cheeping and 
chittering sounds to each other or calling more loudly to the glider pilots and 
others on the ship. Suddenly there was an interruption, a sound that had not 
come from any local throat.
"Speak, Pathologist Murchison," said the loud, irritated voice of Charge Nurse 
Naydrad. "If you don't want to say something, why are you using your 
communicator? I have work to do. Stop wasting my time."
Her bearers stopped so quickly that she almost rolled out of the litter, and the 
spider with her communicator dropped it onto the sand and backed away, 
chittering shrilly in alarm. Murchison laughed in spite of her problems. It was 
obvious what had happened because she could see the two indicator lights 
glowing. The spider who had been fiddling with it had inadvertently turned the 
reception volume to full as well as switching on the device. But the 
communicator was active and, even though it was lying in the sand several meters 
away and at extreme distance for a handset, Naydrad was listening.
The spiders were used to her making loud noises at them, but only when she was 
communicating discomfort, and now she had to talk loudly to Naydrad. But there 
was the danger of arousing their suspicions by making noises without a reason, 
when none of them was touching or therefore hurting her. If they were to get the 
idea that a conversation was going on, that she was calling for help, then they 
would immediately silence her or the communicator. They were already trying to 
do the latter by standing well back from it and pelting it with stones from the 
beach rather than shooting their crossbow bolts at it. Luckily they had missed 
it so far, but communicators were not robust instruments.
In an undertone Murchison used language that was unladylikeher only unfeminine 
trait, according to her life-mate and thought quickly. There was very little 
time to send a message, and none at all if one of those rocks connected. She 
took the deepest breath she could without cutting herself and spoke slowly and 
clearly while hoping that the excited chittering of the spiders all around her 
would keep them from noticing the strange noises she was making.
"Naydrad, Murchison here. Listen, don't talk, and copy. We have been captured by 
indigenous intelligent life-forms, tentative classification GKSD ..."
The spiders weren't paying any attention to her and were concentrating on their 
stone-throwing, which wasn't accurate because the communicator continued to 
survive and show its indicator lights.
"They appear to be sea raiders of some kind," she went on more calmly. "They use 
large sailing ships, unpowered aircraft, crossbows, and there is no evidence of 
metal weapons. I've been tightly restrained but not hurt and am unable to see 
Danalta ..."
She broke off, realizing that her last few words might have been a lie. It was 
hard to be sure in the dimming twilight, but it seemed that the sand on one side 
of the communicator was showing wind ripples. Then, suddenly, they were all 
around it as Danalta did its impression of a patch of sandy beach. A moment 
later the device and its indicator lights disappeared from sight.
The spiders threw a few more stones, their voices sounding surprised and uneasy 
rather than angry at this apparent display of magic, but with no target to aim 
at they were beginning to lose interest. But a few stones would not bother 
Danalta, whose hide, regardless of the shape it was covering, was impermeable to 
most classes of low-velocity missiles. The important part was that it had 
rescued and was protecting the communicator and, when the spiders left the 
scene, it would be able to contact the medical station which would relay its 
report to Rhabwar.
Murchison was still feeling anxious about her immediate future, but more hopeful 
than she had been a few minutes earlier, when a loud, authoritative, chittering 
sound coming from the spiders' vessel drew her attention towards it.
Several of the triangular openings in the hull were open and emitting a dim 
yellow flickering glow which, Murchison felt sure, had to be coming from oil 
lamps or candles. High on the prow of the vessel and silhouetted against the 
darkening sky she could dimly see the spider who seemed to be making all the 
noise. It was holding a tapering black cone to its head that had to be a 
speaking trumpet. Beyond the beached vessel and perhaps half a mile out to sea 
there was another vessel, identical in size and shape and also showing a few 
patches of dim illumination. The view of it was cut off by the body of one of 
the four spiders who raised her litter and resumed their journey towards the 
beached ship.
They had not reacted adversely while she had been speaking earlier, possibly 
because they had been too busy stoning and talk-mg among themselves to notice or 
care, so she decided to pass on the latest information before they all moved too 
far from the capture point.
"Danalta," she said, "the indications are that the GKSDs do
not have electric power or radio communication. Another vessel of the same size 
and shape is entering the bay and a third is on the horizon ..."
Murchison broke off as the escort halted. One of them chit-tered loudly at her 
and began inserting a claw between her body and the strands binding her, 
possibly checking on their tightness. It was making her very uncomfortable so 
she shut up.
She didn't know if her words had been heard, but she hoped that the small patch 
of beach that was Danalta included a sandy ear.
CHAPTER 23
The captain's face on the casualty deck's viewscreen had the darkened pink color 
characteristic of strong emotion, strong enough to filter down the length of the 
ship from the control deck.
"Doctor," it said, "I have an incoming message from the medical station which is 
being relayed from Danalta who is somewhere else on the island. This, this is 
ridiculous. It says that Pathologist Murchison has been captured by pirates of 
some kind. But that world down there shows no evidence of sapient life. Have 
your medics been using their medical supplies for recreational purposes? Would 
you talk to them, please, before I say something grossly impolite?"
For an instant Prilicla glanced towards the forms of the unconscious Jasam and 
the wide-awake Keet, wondering whether or not he should switch off the 
translator, then decided to leave it on. Secrecy in a first-contact situation 
was not a good thing.
"Of course, friend Fletcher," he replied. "Patch them through."
As Danalta's report came in, with occasional interjections from Naydrad, 
Prilicla wondered if he had made the right decision about allowing Keet to 
overhear it. The Trolanni's emotional radiation was becoming increasingly 
disturbed, but that of the
captain had changed from irritation to deep concern. When the shape-changer's 
report ended, Fletcher spoke before Prilicla could respond.
"Doctor," it said urgently, "you will agree that this has become a 
predominantly tactical and military, rather than a medical, problem. That being 
so, with or without your permission, I must take charge."
"It is both a medical and military problem, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. 
"But the first priority, military or medical, must be to have friend Murchison 
returned to us safely and soon."
"My thought exactly," said the captain. "But the position is delicate. We are 
now faced with two first-contact situations that are running concurrently. The 
Trolanni one is going well, but these intelligent spiders .. . Imagine, a 
culture based on non-metal technology that possesses fighting ships, gliders, 
uses crossbows, and has no electric power generation or radio communication. 
They seem to have fire for lighting and perhaps cooking purposes but make no 
large-scale industrial use of it. No wonder the sensors found no signs of 
sapient life down there. An ambulance ship doesn't carry weapons, naturally, but 
we'd have no trouble taking them on with our tractor beams and meteorite 
shield..."
He paused and added, "... if we were allowed."
Prilicla knew as well as the captain how strict were the rules governing contact 
with any newly-discovered planet that held intelligent life. If the culture had 
a space-travel capability and the technology to support it, as well as the 
mind-set that had prepared them for the possibility of meeting other life-forms 
among the stars, then the contact procedure was straightforward. But if the 
indigenous race was primitive, then a careful and covert assessment had to be 
made regarding the long-term effects of making such a contact and a decision 
taken on whether or not it should proceed.
There was always the danger that strange beings dropping out of the sky in their 
thundering ships, even though the entities concerned wanted only to help, would 
give rise to an inferiority complex in an emerging culture, from which it might 
never recover. A starship, the wreck of Terragar, had already landed and no 
doubt been spotted by the reconnaissance gliders, so the Damage might already 
have been done. But taking hostile action against them, even thought it would be 
in response to Murchi-son's abduction, would most definitely be 
contraregulation-
"The gliders will already have told their mother ships about the medical 
station," the captain added, radiating worry. "$ the spiders decide to raid it 
from the land or sea, it has no defenses
"Regardless of the rules, friend Fletcher," he said firmly' we must somehow 
defend our people and patients there without injuring any of the spiders. 
Agreed? As a tactician, have you a plan for doing that?"
"I'll need to think about that for a while," the captain replied. "But what 
about Pathologist Murchison? We aren't trained or equipped to send in a rescue 
party, and getting her out any other way would mean tearing the fabric of that 
spider ship apart with tractor beams."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "you have a little til116 to think about 
defending the medical facility while we are moving Jasam and Keet there or, if 
necessary, moving the others b^ck on board Rhabwar. Regarding friend Murchison, 
I want to discuss the pathologist's situation with friend Danalta, who is still 
standing by and is close to the ships. It is a resourceful and versatile 
guardian and intelligence-gatherer."
"That it is," said the captain. "I'll relay my radio traffic to you so that 
you'll know what I'm doing. Breaking contact-While he was speaking to the 
shape-changer, Prilicla could feel Keet's puzzlement and impatience, but the 
Trolanni didn't interrupt with questions even after he had finished talking- He 
knew that Danalta was concerned for friend Murchison's safety, out he was 
worried because the shape-changer rarely worried about anything. He gave the 
other advice and careful instructions and, hoping for the best, he was flying 
across to speak to the increasingly impatient Keet when the captain's voice 
sounded in the control-deck repeater.
"Courier One," it was saying. "Regarding my situation report, I have an update 
for you. An indigenous intelligent species has been discovered on the planet 
below. They are physiological classification GKSD, possibly warlike, and 
possessing limited, non-metal technology. Pathologist Murchison has been 
captured by them but the latest information is that she is unhurt. Two separate 
first-contact operations are now in progress. The damaged Trolanni vessel and 
this solar system remain in quarantine. No other vessels are to approach. Leave 
with this new information at once. Courier Two, you will stand by and listen 
out for further developments. Off."
"Prilicla," Keet said before he could speak, "I have heard and understood every 
word spoken by you and the druul-like person, but the meaning of the words 
joined together confuses me. Are Jasam and I in danger, or the Murchison person? 
Personally I would not find the absence of this Murchison distressing, even 
though you have assured me that it is a very good healer in spite of looking 
like a druul. But you told me that this lovely world that Jasam and I have found 
was empty. Where did these warlike spiders come from? We were wearing the last 
and best searchsuit. Our people might never be able to build another. What is to 
happen to us now?"
Even though a large proportion of his feelings were engaged in worrying over 
friend Murchison's safety, Prilicla radiated as much sympathy and reassurance as 
he could while explaining the situation. He spoke truthfully, but because Jasam 
and Keet were patients, he laced the truth heavily with optimism.
"Both of you will be moved as quickly as possible to the surface," he said, 
"where I and what remains of my medical team will be able to help Jasam, whose 
condition requires urgent surgical treatment. The spiders are hostile, for 
reasons we will not understand until we learn how to speak to them. We didn't 
know of their existence until an hour ago, but we are strangers who
landed on their world without permission and that can be a strong reason for 
hostility. Or perhaps, as beings completely strange to their experience, they 
were curious and simply wanted to investigate a new life-form. But they don't 
pose a physical threat, except to friend Murchison, because our level of 
technology is far above theirs.
"However," he went on, "regardless of their species' level of intelligence or 
how technologically primitive they are, this is their home world. The 
Federation, our law-givers, would not allow the Trolanni to use your advanced 
technology to take it from them, or to settle on it without the expressed 
permission and agreement of the spiders-----"
"If we did not do that," the weak voice of Jasam broke in, "we would be no 
better than the druul."
Tactfully ignoring the remark but pleased that it was joining in the 
conversation, Prilicla went on, "But there are many worlds known to the Galactic 
Federation which are without intelligent life. When both of you are fully 
recovered and able to return in one of our ships to Trolann, we will show your 
people pictures of these worlds, and analyses of their water, atmosphere, and 
surface plant and animal life. Then we will make arrangements to move the 
Trolanni to the world of your choice. ..."
"And will you exterminate the druul," Keet interrupted, "so that we may leave 
safely?"
"None of these beings," said Jasam, speaking weakly, but answering for him, 
"will exterminate anything or anyone, except possibly disease germs. How did 
they ever fight their way to the top of their evolutionary trees to became their 
planets' dominant species?"
Jasam," said Prilicla, "I'm very pleased that you are awake and taking an 
interest in the situation, but don't overtire yourself. You ask a question that 
will take a long time to answer and you
may be unconscious again, either from fatigue or boredom, before I finished 
answering it. Let me just say that in our precivilized times none of us, 
including my own species, were this well behaved. The medical monitors will 
signal any change in your condition, so would you like me to leave you alone for 
a while so that Keet and yourself can talk together about your future?"
He felt a sudden burst of fear and sorrow from Keet, and one of lesser intensity 
from Jasam. They both knew how close Jasam was to death just as they knew that 
he might be giving them the chance to speak to each other for the last time. 
Before either of them could respond, the captain's voice sounded in the 
repeater.
"Doctor, I have an operational update for you," it said briskly. "We are now 
leaving orbit on a descending path which will bring us down close to sea level 
about three hundred miles from the island on the side opposite to the position 
of the spider vessels. We estimate arrival in just under two hours. The same 
high ground that they used to hide their presence from the station will also 
conceal our approach. Naydrad and the two servos will be standing by to receive 
the casualties. There has been nothing from Danalta or Murchison. Our sensors 
report no land, sea, or air activity in the vicinity of the three spider ships, 
so hopefully they are sleeping. You must be pretty close to your own limits of 
endurance, Doctor, so you might like to do the same."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "that is good advice which I shall 
take at once."
He had folded his wings and was tethering himself loosely to an equipment 
support when he felt a subtle change in Keet's emotional radiation. Normally its 
feelings, regarding its mate, the druul, and their situation in general, were 
sharp and strong. It loved and hated with equal intensity. But now there was a 
strange blurring and softening of feeling as it spoke.
"I know that I cannot read another person's emotions as well as you can," it 
said slowly, "but from your words and actions here and on our searchsuit, I 
thinkno, I believethat you feel a deep concern for Jasam's welfare, and mine. 
Is this so?"
"Yes," he said, trying to keep himself awake.
"On Trolann this question would be considered an insult,
it went on, "implying as it would a disgusting mental aberration am* perversion. 
But I think... Are you feeling the same depth of concern for the safety of the 
druul-like healer Murchison, as you do for Jasam?"
"Yes," said Prilicla again.
CHAPTER 24
The glider pilots carrying their folded aircraft were the first to mount the 
boarding ramp, followed by Murchison's bearer party and with the watchful 
spiders who carried only weapons bringing up the rear.
The ramp, she saw, was wide, surprisingly long, and formed a gently sloping 
bridge over the wavelets and wet sand at the water's edge. It stretched between 
the large opening in the ship's bow and the dry area farther up the beach. It 
was an incredible idea, but she wondered if the spiders were sailors who didn't 
like getting their feet wet.
Inside the ship she was moved along a corridor whose roof was so low that if she 
hadn't been lying flat on her back in a hammock, she would have scraped her face 
against the rough, fibrous surface of the ceiling. Positioned at deck level 
about twenty meters apart were lamps that flickered and, she thought, sniffing 
analytically, smelled of some kind of vegetable rather than mineral oil. Each 
lamp floated in a large wooden pan of water and there were two larger 
containers, one filled with water and the other, sand, placed close by. She 
wondered if the spiders were afraid of fire as well as water, then remembered 
that in the wooden-sailing-ship days on Earth, fire had been a servant that had 
to be kept under tight control.
After what seemed an endless scrolling-down of dark, fibrous ceilings, her 
hammock was lowered to the deck in a com-oartment that was about six meters 
square and high enough to allow her to kneel upright if they untied her.
Plainly that was their intention, because three of them lifted and turned her 
face-downwards while the fourth opened its mouth and began to do something which 
softened and loosened the strands around her body. Then they rolled her over and 
over slowly while the fourth spider made delicate, slurping noises as the 
continuous strand was sucked back into its body.
When it was finished, the others left the room and it remained to wrap one of 
her ankles in a band of thick, soft material, which was obviously padding 
because around it was tied very tightly the end of another rope. It was thin, 
tough, and seemed to be woven from plant fiber rather than originating inside a 
spider. The captor's grotesque, insectile head bent over her ankle and it spat 
something at the rope which hardened within a few seconds and covered the knot 
in a solid, transparent seal. Then it tied the other end, which was long enough 
to enable her to move anywhere inside the room and a little way beyond it, to a 
structural support by the doorway and sealed it in similar fashion. It turned to 
look at her for a moment before pointing with the nearest limb towards a corner 
of the room at what looked like two low handrails with a flat wooden lid set 
into the floor between them.
The spider moved across to it, raised and pushed aside the lid, and indicated 
the square hole beneath it before waving her forward and moving back itself.
The lighting in the room was too subdued to show deep inside the opening, but 
even before Murchison heard the regular, gurgling wave action of water at the 
bottom she knew what it wasthe body-wastes disposal facility. To show that she 
understood, but without actually giving a full demonstration, she ; rasped the 
rails, one in each hand, and hunkered down for a moment before replacing the 
lid. Apparently satisfied, the spider was pointing at the contents of a shelf in 
the opposite corner of the compartment.
It held three wooden beakers, two tall and slim and the other one short and 
broad, all of them with lids; one small, cuplike receptacle; a small stack of 
flat, wooden platters; and a large open bowl that had neatly folded squares of 
soft fabric lying beside it. On hands and knees she moved across to them quickly 
and lifted down the narrow beakers in turn. She gave them a gentle shake before 
removing the lids, sniffed, and decided that they contained water. The thicker 
one was filled with round lumps of material that looked and felt like hairy 
potatoes.
Murchison straightened onto her knees, turned and waved her hand vigorously at 
the spider, then pointed down at her equipment pouch. She wasn't simply trying 
to attract its attention, because it was already watching her closely, just 
trying to give it the impression that her next movement would be overt, 
innocent, and harmless.
Slowly she unfastened the flap and used one finger and thumb to lift out the 
narrow, white cylinder that was her analyzer, which she put in the corner of her 
mouth so that she had both hands free to to pour an inch of water into the 
drinking beaker. When she touched the sensor tip of the analyzer into it, the 
readout showed many trace elements but no toxicity, so she drank it down. From 
the solid-food container she chose a small piece and broke it. The center was 
pale green and spongy and gave off a faint odor that reminded her of cinnamon. 
She pushed the analyzer into it in several places, but none of the readings 
showed anything to worry her. She replaced the instrument and took a cautious 
nibble.
It wasn't completely nauseating, she thought, but it would require a condition 
of near starvation to make it palatable. Murchison was reminded of her first 
promotion to the Sector General permanent staff, when her mixed-species former 
students had thrown a party for her. On a dare she had eaten a piece of Kelgian 
warlgan cake. This stuff tasted a little better.
She forced herself to swallow it and say, "Thank you." The spider chittered 
briefly in reply and backed to the doorway, where it continued to watch her.
For several minutes Murchison sat on the hammock, which had been left on the 
floor, thinking about what she should do next and, more importantly, what her 
captors were expecting her to do next. Their technology was primitive, but in 
its own way, civilized. Up until now they had shown no deliberate cruelty 
towards her, and they possessed a high level of intelligence and flexibility of 
mind, which was shown by their curiosity regarding her and their attempt to make 
her comfortable. It would be natural in the circumstances for her to 
demonstrate a similar degree
of curiosity.
Using her feet with legs bent almost double and with one supporting hand keeping 
her from falling onto her back, Murchison began to tour the room. One wall was 
hung with coils of rope in various thicknesses and another had shelves of wooden 
implements, some of which looked like the pictures of marlin spikes she had seen 
in the history books. No metal tools, implements, or even support brackets were 
visible. Everything, even the deck, walls, and ceiling, seemed to be made of 
hard, dark green, tightlywoven plant fiber except for the regular lines of thin, 
pale grey that seemed to run through and reinforce all of them. She was pretty 
sure where the grey material had come from because she had seen a few strands of 
it binding the crossbows together, and as a supporting latticework on the wings 
and fuselage of their gliders. With a tiny shiver of wonder Murchison tried to 
comprehend a species whose advanced technology, its homes, sailing ships, and 
aircraft, and who knew what else, was in part woven out of their own bodies.
The third wall was bare, except at the two top corners where there was a large 
wooden ratchet arrangement that enabled it to be tipped outwards from the 
vertical and away from the edge of
the ceiling. Between them there was a six-inch gap through which fresh air, cold 
now that the sun had set, was blowing. Plainly this was the room's ventilation 
system. She moved to the fourth wall that contained the doorwith her spider 
guard filling itthe lamp, and the fire-prevention arrangements. Intending to 
examine the workings of the lamp closely with a view to adjusting the setting 
of its floating wick to give more light, she reached fonwards.
Her fingers were more than a foot away from it when she cried out in pain and 
surprise as a sticklike forward limb cracked down across the back of her hand.
"Why the blazes did you do that?" she cried, pressing the hand between her other 
arm and side to deaden the pain.
The spider unlimbered its crossbow and sent a bolt thudding into the floor in 
front of the lamp, then it moved into the room, and with great difficulty 
loosened and pulled the crossbow bolt from the floor and replaced it in its 
quiver before returning to the doorway.
She had the answer to her question. Clearly the message was, Hands off the lamp.
Up until then the spider had not deliberately tried to hurt her and might not do 
so again unless, as now, she tried to break their rules. She wondered how she 
would have felt if their positions had been reversed. In this society a 
moment's carelessness with a naked flame might well cause irreparable property 
damage in addition to personal injury.
Losing, for example, what was to them a complex, state-of-the-art aircraft would 
be devastating for the pilot, who had probably woven important parts of its 
support structure from its own body material. But the destruction of a 
large-scale, cooperative enterprise like this ship, which must be a continuous, 
floating fire hazard, would be a community disaster. Henceforth she would obey 
the rules and avoid having her wrist slapped, or, better still, try to 
communicate with and understand her captors so that such acts of minor physical 
chastisement would no longer be necessary.
The time to begin talking was now, but both her brain and her body were too 
tired to begin the long, complicated and no doubt initially frustrating process 
of sign language and word sounds that would be needed. She could, however, make 
a small
start.
She moved back to the wall with the ventilator slit in it, pointed to the 
opening, and blew her breath out noisily for a few seconds, shivered 
elaborately, and returned to the floor area covered by the hammock. There she 
lay down lengthwise on her side along one half of it, and pulled the surplus 
material across her legs and body and tucking it under her chin. It was 
coarse-textured but warm. With the back of one handwhich was no longer 
hurtingsupporting the side of her face, she looked along the deck at the 
now-horizontal picture of her guard.
"Good night," she said quietly.
The spider made a low, chittering sound.
She had no idea of how much if anything of the recent pantomiming it had 
understood, but Murchison hoped that she had conveyed the message that she had 
rendered herself voluntarily immobile and there was no danger of her breaking 
any more rules for a while. She lay watching it while it watched her, feeling 
the hard surface of the deck through the hammock material and not expecting to 
sleep.
She awakened to find that the lamp was out, the ventilation slit had been opened 
wide so that sunlight as well as air was coming through it, and that during the 
night another large rectangle of hammock material had been spread over her 
sleeping body. She felt stiff and sore, but pleased, because it seemed that the 
process of communication had already begun. When she raised herself onto one 
elbow and cleared her throat quietly, her spider guard she was pretty sure that 
it was the same oneopened its eyes.
When she had stretched a few times in the limited space available, and rubbed 
the stiffness out of her muscles, Murchison lifted the lid of the waste-disposal 
opening, stared at the spider for a moment. It backed out of the doorway and 
moved sideways out of sight.
It was strange, Murchison thought, that all of the civilized species known to 
the Federation had this aversion to eliminating body wastes in public, or to 
witnessing the activity in others. When she had washed and eatenshe was so 
hungry that the food tasted horrible but on the plus side of inedibleshe 
dissolved a small amount of the food in the remains of the washing-water and 
with the corner of a cloth daubed two simple sketches on the sunlit wall. Then 
she put her head around the side of the doorway and beckoned for the spider to 
come back inside.
It was time to start talking.
But her guard had other ideas. It spat accurately onto the knot holding the 
other end of her restraining rope, dissolving the seal, then made it into a 
tight coil which it grasped in one claw. With the other one it indicated its 
crossbow and quiver before it began tugging on the rope.
Politely she was being told to follow it, or else.
In the event, she had no need to worry because it became clear that her guard 
was showing her over the ship while giving the hundred or more crew members a 
chance to look her over. They pointed, waved limbs, and chittered excitedly at 
her, their body language reflecting intense curiosity. But a quiet, clicking 
sound from her escort made them keep their distance. She guessed that her spider 
was a superior officer of some kind and that it was showing off a strange and 
interesting specimen that it wished to keep as comfortable, if not as happy, as 
possible. Murchison could live with that, especially as the technology of the 
ship itself was so strange and interesting.
In a first-contact situation, curiosity that was strong enough to overcome 
xenophobia in both parties was a very good sign.
The vessel looked even larger inside than out. Its smooth outer shell contained 
a structure that was like a complicated three-dimensional maze. She estimated it 
to be about eighty meters from prow to stern, sixty in the beam, and thirty to 
the highest point of its turtlelike upper works which, so far as she co^ld see, 
enclosed five or six levels of decking that were stepped back sharply so as to 
be covered by a segmented outer shell that could be opened in whatever area and 
number was required, to become sails and furnish highly directional wind 
propulsion. The overall structural material must have been very light because, 
in spite of its top-heavy appearance, the vessel rode very high in the water.
She wasn't surprised to find that the two decks that were on and just above the 
water line had no sail openings, ventilation, or natural lighting. The 
compartments on those levels were large and filled with coils of rope, netting, 
and masses of eel-like creatures, some of which were still twitching, that 
smelled like fish. She was glad when her escort guided her back towards the 
fresh air and sunlight of the upper decks.
But there was a steadily diminishing supply of fresh air, she realized, and no 
sunlight at all. She was pushed gently against a bulkhead and signaled to stay 
out of the way because it appeared that the entire crew were moving about and 
working furiously to wind in all of the sail segments and seal their outer 
shell. Just before the section beside her closed to admit only a narrow band of 
light, she was able to see the probable cause of all the frantic activity.
The sun had been covered by the dark grey curtain of a rain squall that was 
running in from the sea.
On the way back to her compartment Murchison had a lot to think about. This and 
the other two vessels she had seen must be part of a fishing fleet that needed 
aerial reconnaissance to direct them towards the shoals they trawled. The sails 
they used for guidance and propulsion had to double as shelters in the event of 
a storm or even a rain shower because, perhaps like cats and Kelgians and 
certain other furred species in her experience, it was physiologically dangerous 
for them to get wet.
These ships were manned, for want of a better word, by very brave sailors 
indeed.
Back in her room the ventilator had been closed to admit a narrow band of light 
and none of the heavy rain that was rattling against the hull. The spider 
pointed to a formerly empty shelf. During their absence someone, probably acting 
on its instructions, had left them a small stack of wide, pale yellow dried 
leaves a thin, short-handled brush, and a small wooden container of what looked 
like ink.
Considering the spider-hostile weather outside, she thought again, this was a 
very good time to begin talking.
CHAPTER 25
Using its power-hungry tractor beams in reverse rather than the noisy thrusters, 
Rhabwar had come in low and quiet to transfer Prilicla and the Trolanni 
casualties to the station before returning as it had come, to orbit where the 
captain would be able to watch the spider ships without them seeing him, or if 
they did, they wouldn't know that the new star in their sky was watching them.
"There are three vessels," it reported simultaneously to the med station and the 
waiting courier vessel, "but all are stationary with their bows resting on the 
beach. Five gliders are flying around them at low altitude, too low for the med 
station to spot them. A number of ship's personnel have been moving about on the 
beach and under the nearby trees, but too few, I feel sure, for them to be 
mounting an attack. In any case, the personnel concerned and the gliders went 
back on board their ships about ten minutes ago and just before a rain cloud 
blotted out the area.
"Doctor," it added, "have you any medical or other developments that you want 
me to relay to Courier Two?"
"None, friend Fletcher," Prilicla replied.
'None?" the other said. "What about your missing pathol-gist? What's the 
shape-changer doing about finding her? With
the increased number of casualties I should think her presence is desirable 
right now."
"It is ..." he began, when Naydrad, who had been assisting him with Keet's 
treatment, answered for him in its usual tactless disregard for the fact that 
the listening patient was wearing a translator.
"It is not desirable, Captain," it broke in; "it is necessary. Physiologically 
the Trolanni are an unusually complex life-form. This one will survive but its 
mate will almost certainly not, unless Murchison, who is a specialist in 
other-species pathology, returns to us soon. We are all concerned for her safety 
and the possible loss of her unrivaled expertise."
Unlike the Kelgian, who could not help saying exactly what it was thinking at 
any time, the captain tried to be more circumspect.
"Your medical team is two members short," it said gently, "and Danalta would be 
of more use to you there than remaining in the vicinity of the bay. What I'm 
trying to say is that Pathologist Murchison may not be returning to you. Isn't 
that a strong possibility, Doctor?"
Prilicla felt a tremor shaking his limbs and body, the significance of which 
Naydrad, but not Keet, would understand. He controlled his emotions with 
difficulty and stilled his body before he was able to speak.
"It is a possibility, friend Fletcher," he said, "but I hope that it is a remote 
one. Danalta lost contact with Pathologist Murchison shortly after its capture 
and while it was still on the ground rescuing the communicator. The 
shape-changer has since been trying to discover the ship to which friend 
Murchison was taken and where within that ship it is being held, so far 
unsuccessfully-
"I shall not call off this search," he went on, "because I have known 
Pathologist Murchison for many years. I know its personality, its warmth, 
sympathy, humor, its sensitivity, and in particular the intensity of feeling it 
holds for its life-mate, and many other qualities that cannot be put into words. 
Of even more irnportance, I know its emotional-radiation signature almost as 
well as I know my own.
"The spider ships are at extreme range for my empathic faculty." he concluded, 
"and while I cannot honestly say that I sense its presence at any given moment, 
if friend Murchison was to terminate, I feel sure that I would know of it at 
once."
The captain broke contact without speaking.
Murchison began with the approach long-hallowed by tradition, even in the days 
before mankind had learned how to leave Earth, by drawing pictures of the people 
and things she wanted to name. They were small and simple; small for the reason 
that she didn't know whether or not the supply of broad leaves was limited, and 
simple because the ink ran like water and she had botched the first two attempts 
by overloading the brush. She held the leaf horizontally sketch-upwards for the 
few seconds it took the ink to dry, then showed it to the spider.
Pointing at herself and the body outline in the sketch, she said, "Human." She 
repeated the gestures and the word several times before pointing at the spider 
and its outline and deliberately said nothing.
The silent questioning seemed to work because one of her captor's clawlike 
digits moved down to touch the spider outline. It made a low, clicking and 
cheeping noise that sounded like, "Kritkuk."
Ignoring the sketches, Murchison pointed at herself and then the spider, and 
repeated, "Human. Kritkuk."
"Hukmaki," it replied; and, more loudly, "Kritickuk."
The emphasis on the second word, she thought, might be due to irritation at her 
not pronouncing it correctly. But it wasn't doing such a hot job of 
pronunciation on "human," either. She led a different approach, knowing that it 
couldn't understand any of the words yet, but hoping that it would get the 
message. 
You are speaking too quickly for me," she said in her nor-
 
mal speaking tempo, then went on slowly, "Please . . . speak... in ... a ... 
slow ... and . .. distinct... voice."
Plainly it had understood the message because this time, while the word didn't 
seem to be that much slower, she was able to detect additional syllables in it.
She started to say it but the word choked off into a cough. Taking a deep, 
calming breath she tried again.
"Krititkukik," she repeated.
"Krititkukik," it agreed.
Pleased at her first linguistic success, but not wanting to waste time trying to 
teach it better Earth-human pronunciation, she knelt down on the folded hammock 
and, with a new leaf spread flat on the deck before her, she thought hard and 
began sketching again.
Drawing two circles to indicate their different planets in space might be too 
confusing at this stage although, being a sailor, her spider would certainly use 
the stars for navigation between its world's many islands and might be well 
aware of the fact that its surface was round. Instead she drew a straight line 
to represent the horizon across the widest part of a new leaf, placed a small 
circle with wavy lines radiating from it to indicate that it was the sun and 
added the outline of the island. Around and below it she drew small, flat 
crescent shapes to denote waves, and on one side of it she drew three flat domes 
to depict the spider's ships and not to scale, a glider flying above them. She 
pointed to each of the symbols in turn.
"Sky," she said. "Sun. Sea. Island. Ship. Glider."
The spider supplied the equivalent word sounds, and a few of them she was even 
able to pronounce without being corrected, but the other began walking around 
her in a tight circle as if in agitation or impatience.
Suddenly it reached forward and took the brush from her hand and began slowly 
and carefully to add to her sketch. It drew three small, flat rectangles that 
had to be the buildings of the medical station on the other side of the island. 
It reversed the brush and used the dry end to point several times at the 
station.
She wasn't giving away information that the spiders did not already know from 
their aerial reconnaissance and they would have been stupid if they did not 
already know that she had come from there, so she took another leaf and filled 
it with a drawing of the medical-station buildings in greater detail. She showed 
the sand below them sloping to the wavy lines of the sea and, on a clear area of 
sand, four stylized figures: herself; the cylindrical shape with many short legs 
along its base that was Naydrad; a featureless cone that was Danalta when it 
wasn't being something else; and Prilicla. In outline the empath looked very 
much like Krititkukik except for the two sets of wings and the fact that it was 
a little distance above the ground. The spider remained motionless for the few 
seconds, either in surprise or because it was waiting for the ink to dry, then 
it pointed the brush first at Murchison herself, then used the end of its thin 
handle to touch her image in the sketch, followed by those of the others, and 
finally the station. It repeated the process, but this time when it touched each 
of the four figures it followed by touching the buildings, and ended by tapping 
repeatedly at the med station alone. Then it looked at her and made a 
chitter-ing, interrogative sound.
It was saying, she felt sure, that it knew all of them had come from the med 
station, but where had the med station come from?
One of the most important rules while opening first-contact proceedings with a 
less advanced species, was not to display a level of technology that would risk 
giving the other party a racial inferiority complex. Looking at this spider 
sea-captain, and considering the degree of bravery, resourcefulness, and 
all-around adaptability required for a profession that called for constant 
travel over a mediumwaterthat was an ever-present and probably deadly danger 
to them, she did not think that her spider would recognize an inferiority 
complex if it was to stand up and bite it in its hairy butt. This time she 
fetched the water container before selecting another, unmarked leaf. The horizon 
line she placed low down, with the island, three ships, and med station sketched 
in less detail. Then she poured a little water into her cupped hand, added a few 
drops of ink to darken it, and then filled in the sky with a transparent grey 
wash which, she hoped, would indicate that it was a night picture. When it was 
dry, instead of a sun she painted in a few large and small dots at irregular 
intervals. A sailor was bound to know what they were.
"Stars," she said, pointing at each of the dots in turn.
"Preket," said the spider.
She pointed to one of the domelike ships and carefully pronounced the spider 
word for it, "Krisit." Then she drew another one of them, this time high in the 
night sky, pointed at it, then to herself and at the med station.
"Preket krisit," she said.
The spider's reaction was immediate. It backed away from her and began 
chittering loudly and continuously, but whether in surprise, excitement, fear, 
or some other emotion, she couldn't say because it was speaking far too fast for 
her to understand any of the words even if she had already learned some of them. 
It came closer and jabbed a claw at the picture so suddenly that one edge of the 
leaf split apart. Again and again it pointed at its three ships and the island, 
at the starship and the medical station and then at the starship again. With the 
claw it pushed at the starship so violently that the leaf was torn in two.
Plainly the other was trying to tell her that the three ships and the island 
belonged to the spiders and that it wanted the strangers to go away. Thinking 
about the kind of people they were, armed fisherfolk with the capability for 
long-range reconnaissance, it was possible that they preyed on others of their 
kind as well as their ocean's fish. The visiting starship, especially if they 
thought that it was manned by sea-raiders like themselves, had already 
established a base on their island. They would considerate it a threat that 
must be driven off, captured, or destroyed.
Somehow Murchison had to show them that neither the visiting ship nor the 
medical station were a threat and that they were in fact, the opposite. She held 
up both her hands, palms outwards, for silence.
When it came, she lifted the brush again and held it close to the other's face, 
but this time she didn't use it to sketch. Instead she snapped off a couple of 
inches of the handle, at the end opposite the hairs so that it remained usable, 
and held them apart for a few seconds. Waiting until it seemed that she had all 
of the spider's attention, she brought the broken ends together and spat 
delicately on the join before handing both pieces back to the spider.
"Join it," she said slowly. "Fix it. Mend it."
While she was speaking, the other made sounds that seemed to have a questioning 
note, but immediately got the idea. Onto the join it spat a very small quantity 
of the sticky saliva it had used earlier to seal the knots of her restraining 
rope, and when it had hardened, handed the brush back to her. Apart from the 
small gob of hardened saliva where the repair had been made, the brush was a 
good as new. She began sketching with it again.
This time she didn't bother showing the island, ships, or sun. At the left of 
the picture she drew instead a vertical line of four figures to represent 
herself, a spider, Naydrad, and Prilicla. Slightly to the right of them she 
placed a similar line of figures, except that her figure was divided by a narrow 
space at the waist and one of her legs was separated by a short distance from 
her body. The figure of the spider showed three limbs detached from its body, 
and similar radical dismemberment to the forms of the Kelgian and her Cinrusskin 
chief. A little farther to the right she drew a larger picture of the 
med-station buildings, followed by another vertical line of figures that were 
whole again. To make her meaning even clearer she drew four short arrows linking 
the damaged figures to the station, and another four pointing from it to the 
whole figures.
Again she indicated the join in the brush handle and said slowly, "We mend 
people."
The spider didn't appear to understand her at all because it pushed the sketch 
away before retying the rope around her ankle and sealing the knot. It left 
quickly without speaking.
Murchison threw the brush angrily at the discarded sketch. The rain had stopped 
and sunlight was shining through the narrow opening in the ventilation wall. 
She moved to it, hoping that more light would lighten her spirits, and wound 
down the ratchet until it was fully open.
Noise as well as light was pouring in, but the excited chit-tering of crew 
members and the creaking of wooden mechanisms could not drown out the single, 
loud clicking voice that was almost certainly that of the captain using a 
speaking trumpet. On the beach outside she could see spiders swarming over the 
other ships, opening their sail seals and raising the boarding ramps.
Something important was happening, Murchison thought, something that would 
almost certainly involve this armed fishing-fleet opening hostilities against 
the medical station. Angrily she returned to sit on the folded hammock, knowing 
that her lamentable recent attempt at communication was certainly responsible 
for it and that she deserved everything that was going to happen to her.
It was while she was glowering despondently at the empty doorway that she 
noticed something amiss. Beside it there had been an unlit lamp with single 
containers of water and sand on each side of it, and now there were three 
containers there. Feeling greatly relieved but completely undeserving of her 
sudden change in fortune, she spoke quietly.
"Stop showing off, Danalta," she said, "which barrel of sand is you?"            
                                                                   
CHAPTER 26
Throughout the ship the sound of spider voices and the loud creaking and 
rumbling of wooden mechanisms being operated reached a climax. The level of 
light coming from the corridor increased and with it came a steady flow of warm 
air that could only be blowing off the beach as the sail shields were opened 
fully and deployed. A moment later the rocking action of the waves intensified 
as the ship pulled free of the sand. The fleet had set sail and she knew its 
objective.
"They're going to attack the med station," said Murchison urgently above the 
ship noises. "We have to get back there to warn them___"
"You already have warned them," said Danalta. Its sand-container shape, which 
had grown an eye, ear, and mouth, moved sideways to reveal her communicator 
lying on the floor with its TRANSMIT and RECORD lights blinking. "I was here 
during your conversation with the spider, and Captain Fletcher, with the help of 
Dr. Prilicla, who uses a similar form of language, says that it has almost 
enough to program a translator for spider talk when we get back. Prilicla needs 
you there, it needs all of the med team, as quickly as possible. One of the 
Trolanni casualties is giving cause for serious concern."
She picked up the active communicator and clipped it to
her equipment belt. Apologetically she said, "For a while I forgot what I do for 
a living. I must report to Prilicla at once."
"It will waste less time," said Danalta firmly, "if you report to it in person. 
Pathologist Murchison, we must return to the station, now."
Rarely had words been spoken with which she was in more complete agreement, 
Murchison thought fervently as she looked around her low, cramped, and highly 
uncomfortable prison, but returning to the station was not going to be easy, 
especially for her. She pointed at the ventilator opening.
"Those ships are moving fast," she said, "and we're already two hundred meters 
from the beach. Even if we left now, by the time I swam ashore and ran all the 
way back, we might not get there until after the fleet arrived."
The sand container slumped into a more organic shape and rolled up to her feet, 
growing a rudimentary jaw with very sharp teeth as it came.
"With my assistance we will both go by sea," said Danalta as it bit through the 
rope securing her ankle. "Will I enlarge the ventilator opening for you?"
"No," she replied sharply. "It will open widely enough to let me out. We don't 
want to damage their ship unnecessarily. I was trying to make friends with 
them."
"Then jump," said Danalta.
Instead of jumping she made a long, shallow dive that took her about twenty 
meters from the ship's side before she had to surface. She heard the splash of 
Danalta's less graceful entry into the water, the excited chittering of spiders 
as more and more of them spotted her, followed by the hissing plop of crossbow 
bolts striking the water all around her. She took a deep breath and dived again, 
then wondered if a few feet of water would make any difference to the 
penetration power of the crossbow bolts when she could swim faster and maybe be 
more difficult to hit on the surface. But the next time she came up for breath 
and looked back, she was in time to hear the spider with the speaking
trumpet call out a few loud, sharp syllables after which the shooting stopped.
Relieved and grateful, she continued swimming. Then she wondered if her spider 
captain didn't want to hurt her, or if it believed that it would recapture her 
with the others at the station and simply wanted to save ammunition. A green, 
sharklike shape with a long, corrugated horn growing from the top of its head 
broke the surface beside her before she could make up her mind.
"Grasp the dorsal horn firmly in both hands," said Danalta, "and hold on tight."
She was glad of the extra grip afforded by the corrugations as the shape-changer 
picked up speed and its wide, triangular tail whipped rapidly from side to side, 
thrusting it faster and faster through the water. It was exhilarating and 
uncomfortable and a little like water-skiing without the skis. Danalta was 
cutting through rather than over the steep, breaking waves in the bay so that 
she had to twist her body and her head backwards every time she needed to 
breathe, but doing so showed that the distance between them and the pursuing 
ships was opening up. Laughing, she wondered what her spider captain would think 
about her moving so fast through the water that she was leaving a wake.
But she was beginning to feel very cold, and Danalta was moving even faster and 
the water was slapping and tugging and bursting in clouds of spray over her 
head, arms, and shoulders. In spite of the warm, morning sunshine reflecting off 
the waves and spray, her body temperature was dropping rapidly and the hands 
holding her to Danalta were losing feeling. She realized suddenly that while her 
equipment belt had stayed firmly in Place, the swimsuit hadn't.
The spider ships were disappearing behind the curve of the coastline, and the 
wreck of Terragar and the medical station were corning into sight. Within a few 
minutes they were in the shallows m front of the buildings and the shape-changer 
was already turning its fins into legs.
Murchison stamped about on the sand and swung her arms briefly to return some 
heat to her body, then, still shivering, she sprinted for the largest prefab 
structure that housed the recovery ward. It was occupied by Naydrad and the 
three Earth-human casualties. With her teeth chattering, she said, "Charge 
Nurse, please throw me a set of my whites and ..."
"You look fine the way you are, ma'am." said one of the Terragar officers, 
smiling broadly.
"The way I am," she said, beginning to pull on the tight, white coveralls, "is 
bad for your blood pressure. Naydrad, where's Prilicla?"
"In the comm room," said the Kelgian.
A faint tremor of pleasure and relief shook Prilicla as the pathologist joined 
him before the communicator screen where the face of the captain was staring out 
at them. He said, "Friend Murchison, I'm glad to have you back with us, and I 
feel that you are well but worried. Ease your mind. Friend Fletcher and Rhabwar 
will be with us several minutes before the spider fleet arrives, so that we are 
in no immediate danger from them."
"But, Doctor," said Murchison grimly, "they are in danger, deadly danger, from 
us."
"No, ma'am," the captain joined in. "I've never held with the adage that attack 
is the best form of defense. We will keep them away from the medical station 
until you people are ready to transfer to Rhabwar. Minimum force, if any, will 
be used."
Prilicla could feel the growing concern and impatience behind the words as 
Murchison went on. "Please listen, Captain. Unknown to me at the time, Danalta 
was making a record of my attempt at communication, but it didn't include the 
other things I saw the spiders do earlier, the way they have to live with and 
use their technology, or their behavior towards me and the, well, consideration 
one of them showed. They are intelligent, brave, and resourceful people, but 
terribly vulnerable."
"I understand," said the captain. "We'll try not to hurt them, but we do have to 
defend the station, remember?"
"You don't understand!" said Murchison. "The spiders use technology that is 
partially organic, something we've never met before. All of their fabricated 
structures large and small, their ships, gliders, tools, and, presumably, their 
living accommodations, are partly woven of web strands from their own bodies. I 
don't know how much they value this material, or how difficult or easy it would 
be to replace, but damaging anything they've made might mean damaging them, or a 
least a valuable piece of their personal property. You're on very sensitive 
ground here, Captain."
Before the other could reply, it went on quickly, "They use fire, but so far as 
I could see, only for heavily protected lighting, and they seem to be so afraid 
of it that their bodies as well as their structures must be highly flammable. 
And in spite of being sailors, they also have an intense aversion to contact 
with water. Their ships are designed so that the sails can be reconfigured to 
enclose the entire upperworks so as to shelter them from rain and spray.
"I'm sorry, Captain," it went on, and Prilicla could feel the apology backing up 
its words, "for adding these complications to whatever defensive strategy you've 
worked out. But if we are ever to establish friendly relations with these 
people, which from personal contact I consider to be a strong probability, you 
must not use any weapons against them that will generate heat. I'm thinking of 
signal flares, normally non-harmful pyrotechnics, or any form of radiant energy 
that would cause an electrical discharge. As well, you must not allow any of 
their sea or airborne Personnel to fall in the water."
The captain was silent for a moment and, thankfully, still well beyond 
Prilicla's empathic range. When it spoke, its features and voice were calm and 
reflected none of what it must have been feeling.
"Thank you for the additional information, Pathologist Murchison," it said, 
glancing aside at another screen. "We should be closing with the spider fleet 
approximately one hundred and fifty meters off your beach in seventeen minutes. 
In that time I shall try to modify my defensive strategy accordingly. However, 
you will understand that operationally I do not do my best work with both hands 
tied behind my back. Off."
Murchison shook its head at the blank screen and moved to the room's big 
direct-vision panel. Prilicla followed to hover above its shoulder as they 
watched the three spider vessels that had rounded the curve of the island and 
were beginning to foreshorten as they turned in to approach the station. All 
six of their gliders had been launched and were making slow, tight circles in 
the sky above them. Distance had reduced the chittering of their crews to a low, 
insect buzzing. The pathologist's emotional radiation, he noted with approval, 
reflected wariness, concern, growing excitement, but no fear.
"Friend Murchison," he said gently, indicating the big diagnostic screen on the 
other side of the room, "this is a good opportunity for us to review the latest 
clinical material on the two Trolanni. Patient Keet's condition was not 
life-threatening and its treatment is progressing satisfactorily, but not so 
Patient Jasam's."
The pathologist dipped its head in affirmation and moved to the screen which was 
already displaying enlargements of the two patients' scanner images. For several 
minutes it studied them, magnifying and changing the viewpoint several times, 
while in the direct-vision panel the spider ships drew closer. But unlike 
Prilicla, it had no attention to spare for them.
Finally it said, "Danalta told me there was a problem with Patient Jasam, and it 
was right. But Patient Keet's condition, while not giving cause for immediate 
concern, is not good. There is a general impairment of blood flow, and organic 
degeneration in several areas that is not, I think, due to any recent trauma, 
and the indications would support a diagnosis of sterility caused by a long-term 
dietary deficiency. But Patient Jasam is in serious trouble. I advocate 
immediate surgical intervention. Would you agree, sir?"
"Fully, friend Murchison," he replied, gesturing towards the screen. "But there 
are three main areas of trauma, deep puncture-wounding whose effect on nearby 
organs is unknown. We should go in at once, certainly, but how, where and in 
what order? This is an entirely new life-form to my experience."
The Earth-human's feelings were predominantly those of concern, apology, and, 
strangely, an underlying but slowly growing feeling of certainty.
"There is nothing entirely new," it said, "under this or any other sun. Our 
Trolanni friend's CHLI physiology has a similarity very slight I must admitin 
its lack of supporting skeletal structure and the fine network of blood vessels 
and nerve linkages supplying the peripheral limbs and visual and aural sensors, 
to those found in the Kelgian DBLF classification. There are also similarities 
in its two fast-beating hearts to those of the light-gravity, LSVO and MSVK 
life-forms. The digestive system is very strange, but the waste-elimination 
process could belong to a scaled-down Melfan. If you believe the risk to be 
acceptable, I think I know what is going on, or what should be going on in 
there, but..."
It held up its hands with the fingers loosely spread.
"... But I can't do it with clumsy digits like these," it went on. "It would 
need much more sensitive hands, yours, and the small, specialized members that 
the shape-changer can grow to get into and support the awkward corners. You and 
Danalta would perform the surgery. I could only assist and advise."
"Thank you, friend Murchison," said Prilicla, wishing that the other could feel 
its gratitude and relief. "We will prepare at once."
"Before we open Jasam up .. ." it began, and broke off because all around them 
the loose equipment in the room was vibrating to the increasing subsonic growl 
that indicated Rhabwar
was making its low-level approach. Irritably, and without even looking at the 
ships closing on the beach, it raised its voice.
"I would like to make a closer, hands-on examination of both patients," it went 
on, "for purposes of comparison and to obtain physical confirmation of the 
scanner findings."
"Of course," said Prilicla. "But first give me a few minutes so that Naydrad can 
render them unconscious."
"But why?" it asked. "We're very short of time."
"I'm sorry, friend Murchison," he replied, "but unlike the Terragar officers, 
the Trolanni would take no pleasure in the sight of your body."
CHAPTER 27
From the deeply upholstered comfort of his control couch, which felt about as 
soft as a wooden plank due to the body tension required to make him appear 
relaxed to his subordinates, Captain Fletcher watched the image of the ships and 
aircraft of the spider landing force as it expanded in his forward vision 
screen.
Rhabwar was not a large vessel by Monitor Corps standards, but it was a little 
longer and its delta wing configuration gave it more width than the big, 
flattened, turtlelike ships of the opposition. The approach he had originally 
planned would certainly have caused maximum non-offensive confusion, if not 
utter havoc and demoralization, to the opposition. But he had remembered the 
words of Pathologist Murchison as she had been telling him how he should do his 
job.
His idea had been to go in low and fast and drag a sonic Shockwave along the 
length of the beach. He didn't think that the ships would suffer orexcept 
psychologicallytheir crews, but the thought of what the air turbulence created 
by a supersonic fly-past would do to those ridiculously flimsy gliders made it a 
bad idea. It wouldn't be like shooting ducks, he thought, but more like blasting 
butterflies out of the sky.
"Decelerate," he said, "and bring us to a halt one hundred meters above the 
beach midway between the station and the water-line. Deploy three tractor beams 
in pressor mode at equal strength in stilt configuration and hold us there."
"Sir," said Haslam, "the slower approach is going to give them time to begin 
landing their people on the beach."
The captain didn't reply because he could see everything that was happening as 
well as the lieutenant could and had arrived at the same conclusion.
"Dodds," he said. "The opposition's ships are highly flammable. When we're in 
position, swing around so that our tail flare will be directed inland. Then put 
out one forward tractor to discourage the spider advance. Focus it to about ten 
meters' surface diameter and change the point of focus erratically for maximum 
turbulence as you play it back and forth along the beach across their path. The 
idea is to create a localized sandstorm down there."
"Understood, sir," said Dodds.
"Power room," he went on briskly. "We'll be supporting the ship's mass on 
pressor beams with no assist from the thrusters for a while. How long can you 
give us? A rough estimate will do."
"A moment, please," said the engineering officer; then, "Approximately 
seventy-three minutes on full power drain, reducing by one-point-three percent 
per minute until exhaustion and an enforced grounding seventeen-point-three 
minutes later."
"Thank you, Chen." said Fletcher, smiling to himself. The power-room lieutenant 
was a man who disliked giving rough approximations. "I'm putting this operation 
on your repeater screen. Enjoy the, ah, battle."
The misty-blue light given off by their three immaterial stilts as well as that 
of the forward tractor beam would be difficult for the spiders to see in the 
bright sunlight, so it would seem that the ship drifting to a stop above them 
was virtually weightless, or at least very lightly built like one of their own 
flying machines.
"A suggestion, sir," said Chen suddenly. "If your intention
 
is to make a blatant demonstration of power that will discourage, and probably 
scare hell out of the enemy without inflicting actual physical injury, this is 
the way to do it___"
"The spiders aren't our enemy, Lieutenant," said Fletcher dryly, "they just act 
that way. But go on."
"But if they don't discourage easily," the other continued, "we could be faced 
with a siege situation so that balancing ourselves up here on power-hungry 
stilts would be a short-term activity as well as running down our power 
reserves. My suggestion is that we land and modify the meteorite shield to 
provide hemispherical protection widely enough to cover the station and 
ourselves. That way we can maintain the shield for a much longer period. Once 
we've made the point, which we have, that we are large, dangerous, and, if 
necessary, can float motionless in the air, there's no reason to continue doing 
so. With respect, sir, I think we should land sooner rather than later."
Exactly the same thoughts had been going through Fletcher's mind, but saying so 
to Lieutenant Chen would have made the captain sound petty-minded in the 
extreme. But a development that the other had not foreseen, at least not yet, 
was that if a spider aircraft should fly into one of the pressor beams 
supporting Rhabwar's weight, it and its pilot would be smashed flat into the 
ground.
"Thank you, Chen," he said instead. "Your suggestion is approved. Haslam, take 
us down. Dodds, kill the pressors but maintain the forward tractor to keep that 
sandstorm going. Chen, how soon will the meteorite-shield modification be 
ready?"
"It's difficult to be precise," said Chen. "Fairly soon."
"Try to make it sooner than that," he said.
The gliders had sheared off at Rhabwar's approach but now they were circling 
back again, possibly thinking that the grounding of the ship was a sign of 
weakness. All three of the spider vessels had run their prows up onto the beach 
and the nearest one had its landing-ramp lowered. The first few spiders were 
already crawling ashore with crossbows held at the ready. Dodds
took a moment to check the focus of his tractor beam. The landing party now 
numbered close on twenty, with more of them coming down the ramps at intervals 
of a few seconds.
Directly in front of them a carpet of sand twenty meters in diameter and about 
three inches deep rose high into the air and exploded into a cloud as the 
tractor's point of focus was vibrated erratically in and out. A thick curtain of 
fine, powdery sand dropped in front of and a little on top of the spiders.
For a moment they milled about uncertainly. Then Fletcher saw a spider with a 
large speaking trumpet climb onto the superstructure of it ship to chitter 
loudly at them. At once they split into two groups that crawled rapidly along 
the beach in opposite directions. The sandstorm, its effect only slightly 
diminished by the fact that the line of targets was lengthening, followed them.
The other two ships were also disgorging spiders while the gliders were flying 
in tight circles above Rhabwar and the station, although fortunately not low 
enough for them to hit the meteorite shield when it came on.
"Sir," said Dodds worriedly, "the sand doesn't appear to bother them very much, 
especially now that all three landing parties are strung out along the beach. It 
looks as though they are trying move out of sight and circle round behind us. 
Shall I increase the power and area of focus, sir, to stir up more sand, or 
maybe try to box them in by"
"Deploying another tractor would help," Haslam broke in. "I'm not doing anything 
else at the moment."
"By pulling in some water instead of sand," Dodds continued, "and splashing it 
down in their path? That might stop them spreading out sideways. They'd be 
caught between the sea and a wet place."
Pleased with the lieutenant because this was an idea Fletcher had not already 
thought of himself, he said, "We're told that water has a very bad effect on 
them and we are, after all, trying to be friendly. Try it, but be very careful 
not to dowse them."
A few minutes later Dodds said jubilantly, "They certainly
.
are afraid of the water; they've stopped in their tracks. But now they're 
pushing inland again."
"Haslam," said the captain, "man another tractor beam unitDodds will give you 
the settingsand help him out. While he concentrates on the two farther parties, 
you take the nearest one. Keep moving up and down the line of spiders trying to 
advance on the station. Leave the waterplashing, if necessary, to Dodds. You 
shower them with sand only. Try to spoil their ability to see where they're 
going, and generally make them feel uncomfortable, but don't hurt them."
"Yes, sir," said Haslam.
More and more spiders were crawling down their ships' landing ramps, but not 
spreading out because of the threat from the containing splashes of water. If 
the positions were reversed, Fletcher thought, he would have been wondering why 
they were not being constantly drenched by water instead of dusted with harmless 
sand, but then, their minds might not share the same rules of logic.
Suddenly they were changing tactics.
"Look at this, sir," Dodds said urgently. "They're beginning to weave from side 
to side, then darting into the falling sand. And when I'm dealing with one flank 
the other one pushes forward and gains a meter or so of ground. I have to keep 
changing the point of focus, narrowing it or moving the tractor beam back to 
keep from hitting them. Chen, we're going to need that meteorite shield, like 
now."
"The same thing is happening here," Haslam said. "We'd need to drop a ton of 
sand on this lot to discourage them. They take turns at running in, zig-zagging 
at random, and . .. Hell, I hit one of them!"
It must have been the briefest of touches on one side of the spider's body, but 
the tractor beam lifted it two meters into the sand-filled air and flipped it 
onto it back. It lay with its six limbs waving. Haslam withdrew his beam without 
being told as a few of the others gathered round their injured companion to lift 
it back onto its feet. Through the air which was now free of sand, Fletcher had 
a clear view of the spiders further up and down the beach beginning to move 
purposefully towards the station again. Then high on the superstructure of the 
middle ship of the three, the spider with the speaking trumpet began chittering 
loudly at them. The advance hesitated and slowed to a dead stop. Within a few 
seconds all three spider landing parties had turned around and were hurrying 
back to their ships, the injured one being half carried by two of its 
companions. The gliders were already coming in to land close to their boarding 
ramps.
"I'm sorry about hitting that one, sir," said Haslam, "and I don't think it was 
badly hurt. But it looks as though we've taught them a lesson because they've 
decided to pull out."
"Don't bet on that, Lieutenant," said Fletcher dryly. He was raising his hand to 
point at the scene in the forward viewscreen when the communicator chimed and 
its screen lit with the image of Dr. Prilicla.
"Friend Fletcher," said the Cinrusskin. "The traces of emotional radiation 
emanating from your crew have been characteristic of excitement, tension and 
concern, all of which feelings have suddenly diminished in strength. A long and 
tricky surgical procedure is about to be attemptedonce, that is, we solve an 
associated non-medical problem. Can you tell me whether or not we can proceed 
without outside emotional interruptions or distractions?"
"Doctor," Fletcher said, laughing softly, "you will be free of distractions for 
the rest of the day. Judging by the look of that sky there is a heavy rainstorm, 
not just a squall, moving in. The spiders are returning to their ships as we 
speak."
They watched the dark grey clouds on the horizon expanding to fill the sky and 
the paler curtain of heavy rain rushing closer. The spiders and their aircraft 
were safely on board and the sail shields of the three ships were closed tight 
before the deluge arrived, but they could hear it rattling and bouncing off
the flattened dome-like hulls which, he realized suddenly, looked very much like 
umbrellas.
"This must be the first time," Haslam said, "that a battle was called off 
because of rain."
.
CHAPTER 28
The patient had been prepped for surgery, the operating team of Danalta, 
Naydrad, and himself had been standing by the table for more than twenty 
minutes, and friend Murchison was still trying to solve Prilicla's associated 
non-medical problem. It was trying with such intensity to be patient and 
reasonable that its emotional radiation was making him tremble.
"Keet," it was saying, "your life-mate Jasam is unconscious and will not feel 
pain, either during or while recovering from this procedure. You, however, are 
feeling the non-material pains of concern, uncertainty, and the continuing 
emotional trauma over what you think will be the loss of a loved one. To be 
brutally honest, we may lose Jasam, but we would have a better chance of saving 
it if you would cooperate by moving out of visual range. Untutored as you are in 
medical matters, not seeing every incision, resection, and repair as they take 
place would be easier on you, too. Besides, would Jasam want you to suffer 
needlessly like this?"
Keet lay watching the towel-draped form of its life-mate from its litter, which 
it had insisted be moved into the operating room. It made no reply.
"In all my nursing experience," said Naydrad, its fur ruffling in disapproval, 
"never has the next of kin, or any other nonmedically-oriented relative, been 
allowed to witness a procedure of this complexity. On all the civilized worlds I 
know of, it is just not done. If this is the custom on Trolann, I think it is a 
misguided, unnecessarily painful, completely wrong, and barbaric custom."
Prilicla was about to apologize for Naydrad's forthright speech, but stopped 
himself because the reasons for the Kelgian species' lack of tact had already 
been explained to it, but Keet didn't give him a chance to talk.
"It is not the custom on Trolann," it said, radiating anger at the insult. "But 
neither is it the custom to have a druul present in our operating theaters 
working on us. Ever."
He could feel the pathologist beginning to lose its temper, but not completely, 
because the words it used were intended to  achieve a precisely calculated 
effect.
Murchison said calmly, "The experiences you shared on your ship, your searchsuit 
as you call it, when Jasam was badly injured and you were unable to leave your 
control pod to help or comfort or even to be physically close to it, has made a 
deep impression on your mind. You don't want to be separated from 
Jasamespecially, as now, when you think that there is the danger of never 
seeing it alive again. I can understand and sympathize with that feeling.
"Perhaps this natural concern for your life-mate," it went on, "has temporarily 
clouded your intellect and memory, so I shall explain to you once again, that I, 
no matter how large or small my physical resemblance to one of them, am not a 
druul. Because of my greater knowledge in some areas I am here simply to advise 
on problems which may arise during this procedure. I shall not be working on 
Jasam directly or touching its body at any time. If you insist on being present 
during this operation, you have my permission to stay. However, seeing your 
life-mate under the knife will be distressing and psychologically damaging for 
you, so I suggest that you watch me closely rather than Jasam, just in case I 
should feel suddenly hungry and want to eat it."
"And they tell me Kelgians are without tact," said Danalta.
"Whatever that is," said Naydrad, its fur spiking in shock. "But the words were 
inappropriate."
Prilicla knew that Murchison was deliberately using shock tactics, and felt from 
Keet's emotional radiation that they were beginning to work.
"From your observation of Prilicla's work on your ship," the pathologist went 
on, "you know that it is capable of the most delicate and precise healing. You 
also know that it is hypersensitive to the emotions of those around it, and you 
must already have realized that your intense feelings of fear, concern, and 
other emotions can adversely affect its ability to perform the high level of 
surgery that is required here. For that reason you must at all times keep a 
tight control of your feelings, natural though they are, so as to avoid 
distracting Prilicla. Do you understand and agree?"
The Trolanni did not reply, but Prilicla could feel the intensity of Keet's 
emotional radiation begin to subside as it fought, successfully, to control its 
feelings and impose a measure of calm on itself. There was no need for it to 
speak to this frightful, druul-like creature because there was understanding and 
agreement and, he noted with pleasure, a feeling of apology.
"Thank you, friend Murchison," Prilicla said. "We will begin...."
The high concentration of light around the patient, Prilicla thought, during the 
few times he glanced up to rest his eyes, when contrasted with the grey overcast 
outside the direct-vision panel, made it seem almost as if night had fallen, and 
the final time he looked up, the panel was black and it had. At intervals the 
quiet voice of the captain had been reporting no visible activity from the 
spider ships, and with the fall of darkness the infrared sensors were confirming 
its theory that the spiders were not nocturnal creatures.
"Or at least," Naydrad added, much too loudly for the cap-
tain to miss hearing, "they don't go out on rainy nights. Dr. Prilicla, I think 
you are in need of sleep."
"And I feel sure that you are, Doctor," said Murchison. "The patient's condition 
is still critical, but stable enough for us to seal off the lower thoracic area 
and suspend operations for a few hours. After all, the damage to the lungs where 
the deep air lines were jerked out by the onboard explosion has been repaired, 
and it is breathing pure oxygen with no mechanical assistance, as well as being 
fed intravenously. Repairs to the lesions caused by the traumatic withdrawal of 
the external feeding and waste-extraction systems can surely wait a little 
longer for attention?"
"You are probably right, friend Murchison," Prilicla replied, using the form of 
words that was the closest he could come to telling anyone they were wrong. "But 
there are still small traces of toxic material adhering to the ruptured bowel 
walls, and I would like to remedy that before any cessation. Friend Naydrad, 
stand by and apply suction where I indicate. Friend Danalta, be ready to follow 
me in and support the area under the first lesion while I am suturing. Friend 
Murchison, ease your mind. I promise not to fall asleep on the patient for at 
least an hour. Now, let us resume."
Naydrad's equipment made a low, derisive sound and its fur rippled in concern as 
it said, "This is the strangest stomach-and-bowel arrangement I've ever 
encountered. Dr. Prilicla, in coloration and structure, it resembles spaghetti, 
that Earth-human food you like to eat. Is it strange to you, Pathologist?"
"In the light of my earlier and non-serious remark about eating," said Murchison 
sharply, radiating disapproval, "it is unseemly to mention food in the presence 
of the next of kin. And no, the Dwerlans use a similar gastrointestinal tract, 
although, I admit, not two of them working in tandem. There is nothing new in 
multispecies medicine, just new combinations of the old. But this one is 
particularly complex."
Keet moved restively on its litter and said, "I don't seriously believe that any 
of you would want to eat the offal of my life-mate. Even a druul would think 
twice about doing that. But I can't see what is happening. Murchison, you're 
blocking my view."
"That was and remains my intention," said Murchison. "It is kinder to tell you 
what is happening after it has happened."
With Naydrad keeping the operative field clear of unwanted fluid, and Danalta 
extruding the fine digits that could insinuate themselves into the awkward 
crevices where no inflexible surgical instrument could go so as to hold open the 
site of the damage, Prilicla was able to see his way to perform the extremely 
delicate work of repair that was necessary, As the procedure continued, Keet 
radiated intense butuncharacteristically for itsilent concern. Murchison was 
watchful but it did not have to speak at all, because the organic territory they 
were occupying was becoming increasingly familiar to them. But nearly half an 
hour later, it did speak.
"Keet," Murchison said, radiating an increasing level of pleasure and relief 
that the Trolanni could not feel, "this is going well."
"Thank you, Murchison," said Keet.
"You're welcome," said the pathologist. "But please remain quiet so as to avoid 
distracting the team. There is more to do."
Feeling happier than it had been since the start of the operation, Keet replied 
by not saying another word. But Murchison was radiating a growing level of 
concern that was being focused on Prilicla himself. Its words came as no 
surprise to him.
"You're tired, sir," it said, "and the way your legs are wobbling shows that 
you are badly in need of rest. The remaining work is simple tidying-up and can 
be completed by Danalta and Naydrad under my direction. But there is another 
complication which requires treatment. It isn't urgent or life-threatening, at 
least so far as the life of the patient itself is concerned, and it can wait, 
but I suggest we do it while we are in the area so as to avoid having to open up 
the patient at a later date."
"Do what, and why?" said Keet suddenly. "I don't want you cutting Jasam without 
a very good reason."
Murchison ignored the interruption but in its calm, lecturing voice managed to 
answer the questions anyway,
"The problem is principally medical and requires only minor surgery," it said, 
using its pencil light as a pointer, "involving as it does infusions into the 
patient's endocrine system, specifically the small gland in the areajust 
therewhich is partially atrophied and inactive due to a build-up of toxic 
material that has been assimilated by the body over many years. With the 
removal from its toxic home environment and the introduction of the indicated 
specifics, the chances are that the gland in question can be restimulated to 
optimum activity in a very short time, and certainly within the period of the 
patient's recuperation."
"What are you talking about?" said Keet.
"... Considering the fact that Trolann's population is dangerously close to the 
point of extinction," Murchison continued, "it would be advantageous after they 
are transferred to their new world for as many Trolanni couples as possible to 
be capable of reproducing their kind. With Patient Jasam's male reproductive 
system, the treatment is simple and straightforward with no complications 
foreseen. With Patient Keet, however, in common with the females of the other 
life-forms in my experience, the mechanism of reproduction and child-bearing is 
more complex. It would be better if you undertook that procedure yourself, after 
you have slept, of course. Do you agree?"
For a moment Prilicla was unable to speak. A sudden explosion of emotion from 
Keet, comprising as it did a mixture of excitement, relief, and pleasure that 
verged on the joyous, was sending a slow tremors along his body, wings and 
limbs. He was greatly pleased but not surprised at the way his assistant had 
handled the situation, and he knew for a fact that Murchison had made a Trolanni 
friend for life.
As the gale of pleasurable emotion diminished, he withdrew
from the table, stretched out his wings and limbs and refolded them tightly to 
his body before speaking.
"Well done, all of you," he said. "Friend Murchison, both of your suggestions 
are approved. Proceed at once with the work on Jasam, and explain to Keet that 
her life-mate will be rendered unconscious for a period of continuous sedation 
that will assist its healing, and that there will be nothing more constructive 
for it to do during that time than to undergo the procedure you suggested."
"Don't worry, all that will be explained to Keet," Murchison broke in. "But now, 
sir, will you please go to sleep?"
The figures of Murchison, Danalta, Naydrad, the two Trolanni, and the whole OR 
were beginning to fade around him.
Happily he murmured, "I am asleep."
CHAPTER 29
The bad weather continued with unbroken wind and heavy rain for the next six 
days, during which there was, as expected, no resumption of the spider attack. 
Keet had successfully undergone its minor surgery at Prilicla's hands and was 
waiting impatiently for Jasam to be released from its continuing sedation. In 
space, Courier One had returned with the latest news from the Federation, which 
consisted mainly of ranking Monitor Corps officers and senior administrators 
worrying aloud about what Rhabwars people were doing, or more accurately, what 
they were doing wrong regarding this unique double first contact situation. 
Courier Two was waiting impatiently to take back the latest situation report, 
and their excuses.
Captain Fletcher was trying to think of a few good ones, and asking for help.
"I've drafted a report on all this for the courier vessel," it said, radiating a 
mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty as a jerky gesture of its hand 
indicated the human and Trolanni casualties visible through the transparent 
wall of the communications room, "but I wanted to consult with you, Dr. 
Prilicla, with all of you, in fact, before sending it off. For reasons you will 
understand, and of which I am not very proud, I didn't want the discussion to be 
via communicator and be overheard by my officers. If this matter should come to 
an enquiry, or even a court martial, I'd prefer them not to know and so spare 
them the embarrassment of having to give evidence against me."
The captain had walked the distance from Rhabwar in the pouring rain to say 
these things. Prilicla used his projective empathy in an attempt to reassure 
the captain, but it wasn't working very well. Naydrad was the first to speak.
"I don't understand your problem, Captain," it said with a puzzled ruffle of 
fur. "With Kelgians this situation would not arise. We would either recount the 
facts accurately or, if we didn't want to disclose the information, not speak at 
all. Earth-humans!"
"Unlike the charge nurse whose species doesn't know how to lie," Danalta joined 
in, "I have a capability for verbal misdirection, diplomacy, politeness or 
therapeutic lying. But it is usually less complicated in the long run to tell 
the truth."
The captain radiated worry and impatience. It said, "But the truth is 
complicated, almost certainly too complicated for our superiors to believe. 
Courier One took back the news of the Trolanni first contact, which in the 
interim has gone fairly well, but the continued success of which may depend on 
whether or not they both survive the second contact with another intelligent 
species which includes Pathologist Murchison's capture by pirates ..."
"That had a happy ending," Murchison broke in, glancing out at the three 
rain-shrouded vessels drawn up along the beach, and added, "so far."
"... As a result of which," it continued, "the planet's indigenous species has 
virtually declared war on us. This is no way to conduct a first contact 
operation, and our temporal lords and masters will be gravely displeased with 
us, or with me, at least. Courier One's captain said that there was serious talk 
about sending one of the dedicated first contact ships, probably Descartes, to 
take over our contact with the second species while advising us on how to 
conduct the first. He also said that unique-science
investigation teams, which would, of course, take all the necessary precautions, 
were being assembled to unravel the Trolanni searchsuit technology and would be 
held back until an assessment could be made regarding the possibly harmful 
psychological effects of so much advanced space hardware appearing around the 
spiders' planet. But when Courier Two takes back my latest report, including the 
news thatdespite the fact that the spiders are nowhere near achieving space 
flight, they might not be given a terminal inferiority complex by seeing a few 
unexplained lights in their skywithin a week near-space is likely to be filled 
with Monitor Corps ships."
The captain stopped and breathed heavily. That was due, Prilicla thought, to the 
fact that it had been exhaling air at a controlled rate while speaking for 
several minutes without inhaling. For Prilicla's sake it was trying to control 
its emotional radiation, which was anything but pleasant.
"Friend Fletcher," he said gently, "our areas of authority in this situation are 
overlapping, so it follows that the responsibility, or the blame for it going 
wrong, is also divided. However, it began as a medical problem with the transfer 
of the casualties from Terragar, and later the two injured Trolanni from their 
vessel to this station where, in order to protect both sets of patients, I had 
to force you into taking military action in their defense. This being so, the 
greater proportion of the blame must fall on me ..."
The other's worry tensions were beginning to ease a little, but Prilicla could 
also feel an argument coming on. Unlike the Earth-human physiological 
classification, he could respirate and speak at the same time so he left no time 
for an interruption.
"... My advice would be to tell the truth," he went on, "but omit the incident 
of friend Murchison's capture and escape until a later time. Learning about it 
now would worry the pathologist's life-mate, and knowing Diagnostician Conway as 
I do, it would come out here and ..."
"He certainly would," said Murchison softly.
"... complicate matters," he went on. "While Conway has more than enough rank to 
take one of the hospital's vessels out here, my thought is that there will be 
enough ships in the area as it is without another worried life-mate joining us. 
Keet worrying about Jasam produces enough sex-based emotional drama to go on 
with. I feel your agreement, friend Murchison.
"As for the rest of the report," he went on, "be complete and factual. No doubt 
you will renew your warning regarding the danger of making direct ship-to-ship 
contact with the Trolanni searchsuit. But also warn your superiors, politely if 
your service career is to progress as it deserves, of the danger of 
well-intentioned interference by people who will have much less knowledge and 
appreciation of the problem than we have.
"You should also relate in detail your concerns regarding the third and much 
more dangerous first-contact operation that is coming up," he went on, "the one 
involving the druul. As well as the opposing species being physically separated 
and disarmed, which will require military intervention, the Trolanni must be 
evacuated as a disaster-relief emergency. At a later time a similar exercise 
will be required for the druul as well, who, because of the bad reputation they 
have with the Trolanni, must be assessed for possible reeducation as candidates 
for membership of the Federation. You could also suggest that the advice of 
patients Jasam and Keet on the Trolann situation would be invaluable, providing 
we are let alone to continue treating Jasam's very serious injuries and 
building up their trust in us."
"But the Trolanni-druul situation isn't the immediate problem . .." began the 
captain.
"Of course it isn't," said Prilicla. "But if you give the impression that it 
isthat you, personally, consider these future problems to be of more importance 
and difficulty than our present onethis should have a reassuring effect on 
your superiors. If you express deep concern for and an understanding of their 
future problems, they should feel that you are confident about solving this one 
and leave us alone to get on with it without interference. As well, if they try 
to help with our problem, I'm sure friend Keet will be able to furnish us with 
more information on the Trolann situation to worry them. They might decide that 
every time they try to help us with our troubles, you dump an even greater 
problem in their laps, and desist."
"And what do I tell them about the spider assault on the med station?" asked the 
captain. "Just how do I make that sound like a minor problem?"
"You tell the truth," Prilicla replied, "but not all of it. After an initial 
period of misunderstanding, tell them that the spider first contact is ongoing."
"Ongoing it is," said the captain, "but from bad to worse. Dr. Prilicla, for 
such a timid, inoffensive, and completely friendly entity, you have a nasty, 
devious, lying mind."
"Why, thank you, friend Fletcher," he replied, "for listing my most admirable 
personality characteristics."
Murchison and Danalta made amused sounds which did not translate while Naydrad 
ruffled its fur in puzzlement, but before any of them could speak, the 
communicator chimed and its screen lit with the features of Haslam.
"Sir," the lieutenant said briskly, "our weather sensors indicate that the 
present warm front will clear the island in five hours' timejust before 
nightfall, that isand it will be followed by an extensive high-pressure system 
that could remain for the ensuing twelve to fifteen days. As well, there is 
another spider fleet of three ships closing on us. Judging by their present 
heading and speed, I'd say that they intend to pass south of us before morning 
for a landing on the other side of the island. Would you like to return to the 
ship?"
The question was, of course, rhetorical because the captain was already halfway 
to the entrance.
It came as no surprise that the attack from inland did not develop until the 
afternoon of the following day. By then the hot, high sun had dried off the 
rain-soaked vegetation, and the moment-to-moment situation as it developed on 
Rhabwar's tactical screens was being relayed to the med station's communicator 
with a commentary by the captain.
Naydrad was with the Trolanni patients, talking to Keet. Jasam was still deeply 
sedated but giving no cause for concern while Danalta was doing tricks with 
itself in an attempt to amuse the Terragar casualties who were complaining 
because they were missing their daily dunk in the ocean. Only Murchison and 
himself were watching developments, and the pathologist was radiating a 
strange mixture of dissatisfaction and guilt.
The original three ships beached near them were showing a few ventilation 
openings but had not lowered their landing ramps. According to the captain this 
was an obvious attempt to lull them into a false sense of security while a 
surprise attack was made from the cover of the vegetation inland. The spider 
force could not knowbecause at their level of technology, the very idea of 
being able to see at a distance in darkness would not have occurred to themthat 
Rhabwar was fully aware of the arrival of the new fleet; or that a vessel that 
could detect life signs in space wreckage over thousands of miles' distance 
would have no trouble picking up the movements and body heat of beings crawling 
under a thin covering of overhanging branches.
"I hate it," said Murchison suddenly, "when I have to watch brave, intelligent, 
but undereducated people making fools of themselves like this. Are you feeling 
godlike, Captain Fletcher?"
They heard the captain inhale sharply and Prilicla felt the sudden surge of 
anger that was weakened only by distance. But its voice remained calm as it 
replied, "Yes, in a way. I see and know everything, and like a god I have to 
hide the truth from them for their own good. I'd rather we stopped them before 
they hit the meteorite shield. They've already seen us creating sand eddies and 
pulling water into their path, and gratuitous displays of superscience can have 
a bad effect on an emerging culture. Magic, apparent miracles, events which 
contravene natural law as they know it, can give rise to new religious or 
drastically change existing ones so that superstition can stultify scientific 
and technological progress. These people don't need that."
"Sorry, Captain," said Murchison, "I spoke without thinking."
The other nodded and went on. "The damage may already have been done. They've 
seen our ship fly, and the med-station buildings, and we checked their first 
attack by throwing sand at them and threatening to douse them with seawater, 
although neither stopped them trying to attack us because it was the rainstorm 
that did that. Maybe they think we were responsible for that, too. But allowing 
them to run into an invisible wall like the meteorite shield could be too much 
for a primitive species to take, brave and resourceful and adaptable though they 
are.
"The trouble is," it went on, "that we can't generate clouds of sand under the 
trees and neither can we drag water that far without it spilling on the way. We 
can use more power on the tractor to uproot trees and throw soil into the air, 
but not with enough accuracy to keep some of the spiders from getting squashed. 
Pathologist Murchison, didn't you mention earlier that they had a fear of fire 
as well as water?"
"I did," Murchison replied, "but I'd rather you didn't use it because I'm not 
sure whether the on-board fire precautions I saw were due to the material of 
their ships being flammable, or their bodies."
"My idea is to frighten them off without hurting them," said the captain. "Don't 
worry, I'll be careful. But I'd like them to come close enough for Dr. Prilicla 
to get an emotional reading from them. Specifically, why do they feel so 
strongly about us that they are willing to go up against a completely strange 
and obviously superior enemy?"
For nearly an hour they watched the enhanced images of the spider force as it 
moved slowly nearer, making use of all available cover and spreading out into 
line abreast formation as it came. The captain said complimentary things about 
the spider commander's tactical know-how as the center of the line held back to 
enable the formation to form a crescent that would enclose the station and the 
grounded Rhabwar. They had closed to just under one hundred meters before the 
captain spoke directly to the station.
"Dr. Prilicla, are they close enough to give you an emotional reading?"
"Yes, friend Fletcher," he replied, "a strong but imprecise one. The strength as 
well as the lack of precision is due to the large number of sources sharing the 
same feelings. There is uncertainty and apprehension characteristic of fear 
that is under control, and a general feeling of antipathy towards the enemy . 
.."
"Blind xenophobic hatred," the captain broke in. "I was afraid of that."
"As I've said, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "It is difficult to be precise, 
but my feeling is that they don't hate us so much as what we are doing."
"But we aren't doing anything wrong," the other protested, "at least that we 
know about. No matter, we have to stop them before they get any closer. Haslam, 
launch the chemical pyrotechnics. Spread them in front of their line at 
twenty-meter intervals. Dodds, use your tractor beam to pull off bunches of 
burning vegetation and drop them into any smoke-free gaps. I want our perimeter 
protected by a line of fire and smoke. Stand by to deploy the meteorite shield 
if that doesn't work."
Distress flares shot from Rhabwars launchers made low, fiery arcs in the sky 
before landing at the designated intervals among the trees.
"After three days' heavy rain," the captain added for Murchison's benefit, "the 
vegetation is still too damp for there to be any danger of us starting a 
conflagration. We will be producing mostly light, steam, and smoke."
The intense blue light and heat of the chemical flares, which had been designed 
to be seen across thousands of miles of space,
caused the damp surrounding vegetation to fairly explode into flame. Dodds 
picked at the hottest spots with his tractor beam, moving clumps of burning 
branches into the intervening areas where the vegetation had been unaffected. A 
dense pall of steam and smoke rose into the sky so that the sun became a dark 
orange shape that wavered in and out of visibility. A few minutes later they 
could see through the dissipating smoke that the secondary fires were dying 
down, and those where the flares had landed were not looking too healthy, but 
they had done their work.
"A wind off the sea is blowing the smoke inland," said the captain. "The spider 
force is withdrawing and heading back to their ships. So far as we can see, no 
injuries have been sustained."
"Their emotional radiation confirms," said Prilicla, "but they are badly 
frightened and their dislike of us has increased."
"Sir," Lieutenant Haslam reported before the captain could reply, "the ships on 
the other side of the island must have seen the smoke. A glider has been 
launched. It is slope-soaring over the high ground and heading this way, 
obviously to find out what has been happening. I think we won this one."
"We won this battle, Lieutenant," said the captain, "but not the war. If we win 
the war that means we lose, because the only way to win this war is to stop it 
before anyone gets hurt.
"I'm open to suggestions."
CHAPTER 30
For the remainder of the day, between breaks for meals, checks on the patients, 
and a period of rest for himself, they watched the glider overhead because there 
was nothing else of interest happening. The spider aircraft was doing some very 
interesting things, like signaling to its mother ship on the other side of the 
island and the three vessels drawn up along the beach.
A large, circular panel close to one wing-root had opened and begun spinning in 
the slipstream about its two diametrically opposed attachment points. One face 
of the panel was bright yellow while the other matched the overall 
brownish-green color of the glider. The rotating disk was within easy reach of 
the pilot who used one of its forelimbs to check the spin at irregular 
intervals to show either the light or dark face to watchers below and on its 
more distant mother ship.
"Ingenious," said the captain admiringly. "It's using the visual equivalent of 
Earth's old-time Morse code. The spiders might not have radio but they can 
communicate over short to medium distances. The rotating panel would have 
minimum effect on the glider's flight characteristics, and any information 
being transmitted would be passed slowly, although if necessary the message 
could last for as long the glider remained aloft. Judging by the pauses in 
signaling, which last for anything up to
fifteen minutes, I'd say that there is a similar device on the mother ship and 
they are talking about us."
"Sir," said Haslam. "It's not heading back to its ship. Why is it still 
climbing? I would have expected it to come down to take a closer look at us so 
that the pilot would have more to talk about."
The captain exercised the prerogative of a senior officer who did not know the 
answer by maintaining a commanding silence.
The litters bearing all of the patients were moved into the afternoon sunshine 
of the beach although, as it had been in the recovery ward, the druul-like 
Earth-human casualties and those from the Trolanni searchsuit were separated 
from visual contact by portable screens. There were a few spiders moving about 
the beach, but they stayed close to their ships and it was plain that another 
attack was not imminent. To conserve power the meteorite shield had not been 
deployed so that the patients could benefit from the sea breeze as well as the 
sunshine. They, too, lay watching and talking about the slowly ascending glider. 
It was still climbing late in the afternoon when the patients were moved indoors 
and when the sun began to sink behind the high ground inland. When dusk fell at 
ground level it was still climbing, tiny with distance but clearly visible in 
the bright, orange light of the sun which for it had not yet gone down. It 
began circling widely and performing slow, intricate aerobatics.
"Doctor," said the captain, "I'm beginning to worry about what our flyboy is 
doing up there. Its present altitude is close on five thousand meters and it 
must be cold up there. In the circumstances of the recent attack it doesn't 
seem appropriate for it to be showing off and selfishly enjoying itself like 
this. It's possible that it is performing some form of sunset religious ritual 
that the spiders, or maybe only their glider pilots, believe is important, but 
I don't think so."
"What do you think, friend Fletcher?" said Prilicla.
"The glider is far too high for its swiveling wing panel to be
readable without a telescope," the captain replied, "and I can't imagine a 
species so afraid of fire as are the spiders being able to use it to process 
sand into glass and cast lenses. My theory is that the aerobatics are another 
form of signaling,"
It paused for a moment as if expecting an objection, then went on, "Of necessity 
the vocabulary would have to be restricted because there are only so many ways 
that a glider can move in the air, so its report would have to be simplified, 
couched in stock phrases that would be much less detailed than the visual Morse, 
and yet it is trying to describe happenings unique in its species' experience. 
But that high-flying aircraft and its message will be visible over a much 
greater distance than the shorter-range but more fluent swiveling wing-panel 
arrangement."
"Is there any support for your theory, friend Fletcher?" asked Prilicla, feeling 
that he already knew the answer. "Are there any spider vessels within visual 
range of this hypothetical signal?"
"I'm afraid so, Doctor," the captain replied. "Our radar isn't too accurate 
because their aircraft and ships are made from organic rather than metallic, 
reflective material. But it showed a fleet of six vessels, five of which changed 
course towards us within half an hour of the glider rising above their horizon. 
The other vessel headed in the opposite direction towards another fleet that is 
still too distant for us to resolve the number of units. My guess is that the 
sixth ship will launch a high-flying glider at first light tomorrow to relay the 
signal.
"Very soon all of the spiders on the surrounding ocean or on the land adjoining 
it will know we're here," it added, "and a lot of them will come to do something 
about it."
"But what will they do, friend Fletcher?" said Prilicla, the sudden intensity of 
his own anxiety overwhelming that of the captain. "We have not committed any 
hostile acts towards them, we did nothing wrong, and when they attacked us we 
did everything possible to avoid hurting them. If they would only stop and 
think about what we did and, more importantly, from our ob-
vious position of strength what we did not do, this problem coul be solved by"
"We did nothing wrong that we know of," the other inte: rupted. "But don't 
forget that they're a new species. They me view our inaction as a sign of 
weakness or inability to hurt then or maybe they just hate us for being here."
"If we could find a way of talking to them," said Prilicla. " we could just tell 
them that we don't want to be here, either, they might help."
Fletcher shook its head. "Pathologist Murchison exchange a few words, nouns, 
personal names, or whatever with what sh called her spider captain, but not 
enough for the translation corr puter to do anything with them. And even if we 
were able to tal to them, that doesn't mean they would believe us.
"I can't help thinking about the bad old xenophobic da) on Earth," it went on, 
"and how we would have reacted towarc an apparent invasion from the stars. We 
would certainly not ha\> tried to talk, or even to think about talking. We would 
have gathered our forces, as these people seem to be doing, and have at the 
horrible alien invaders with everything we had."
Prilicla thought for a moment, then said, "The Trolanni began by hating us, 
especially you druul-like DBDGs, but the got over their phobia after you 
projected the shortened Federation history lesson into space outside their 
searchsuit. Tonight why not do the same? The spider ships are sure to have watch 
keepers on duty during the night to rouse their crews if anything happens. Make 
something happen, friend Fletcher."
The captain shook its head, in indecision rather than negation. It said, "The 
Trolanni had star travel and the advanced technology to support it and were half 
expecting to meet other star-traveling species. The spiders don't and weren't. 
They would not understand. We'd probably scare them even more, give then more 
cause to fear and hate us and, well, we could end up seriously damaging the 
future philosophical development of their whole culture. Unless you can get an 
emotional reading from them to the contrary, first-contact protocol forbids us 
doing anything like that."
"They are too distant," said Prilicla regretfully, "and there are too many of 
them emoting at once for that kind of reading. All I can feel from here is a 
flood of hatred and aversion. If we could entice one or even a few of them 
closer, their subtler feelings could be analyzed. They will continue to stay 
away from us until the next attack. During an attack they will not be emoting 
subtle feelings.
"The ideal solution would be to find a way to make them talk to us," he ended, 
"and not fight."
"Yes," said the captain, and broke contact.
He joined the rest of the medical team as they were moving the patients' litters 
onto the beach for their daily supportive medication of fresh air and sunshine. 
A few minutes he spent hovering above and exchanging a few words with them in 
turn, beginning with the Terragar DBDG amputees before moving to the Trolanni 
CHLIs to join the quiet conversation they were holding. Keet was well recovered 
and fully capable of moving around without a litter and meeting the others, but 
the knowledge that the druul-like healer and patients would not hurt either of 
them had not yet penetrated to the deeper, emotional levels of its mind, so that 
it preferred to stay on its litter behind the screens knowing that the other 
patients could not leave theirs. Jasam was no longer in danger, but it would not 
help its condition if it was forced into premature visual contact with the other 
DBDGs. In any case, talking to the patients was not his primary reason for 
coming outside.
The person who had already spoken with the spiders, he had decided, was the 
logical one to reopen the conversation.
An hour later, with Prilicla hovering at its shoulder, the pathologist was 
walking slowly in the direction of the sea and radiating feelings of mild 
disappointment because it was unable
for reasons of personal security to immerse itself. It was carrying a small 
sheet of plastic that had been rolled, speaking-trumpet-fashion, into a cone 
because they had agreed that using a mike and Rhabwar's thunderous external 
loudspeaker would have been unnecessary vocal overkill. He was towing a small 
float containing the translation-computer terminal.
"I know I exchanged words with that spider captain, if that is what it is," said 
Murchison as they crossed the line of disturbed sand where the meteorite screen 
had briefly been switched on, "but only a few nouns and a verb, maybe two, and 
stopping the others from shooting crossbow bolts at me might not have been an 
act of friendship. It may not have wanted to waste ammunition in the sea 
because it was expecting to capture all of us later."
For a moment it radiated minor embarrassment, associated no doubt with a minor 
infringement of its Earth-human nudity taboo, then went on, "When it saw me I 
was wearing the only swimsuit I had with me, and this underwear is, well, 
differently styled and colored. It might not recognize me again. I think you're 
expecting too much of me, sir."
"Perhaps," he replied, "I'm expecting a miracle. When you are ready, friend 
Murchison."
They walked and flew for about thirty meters beyond the mark in the sand left by 
the meteorite shield. If it had been switched on they would have moved freely 
through it, for it was designed to stop only incoming objects, but they would 
not have been able to go back again. A few spiders were moving about close to 
their ships, and two of them were moving back along a ramp they had built 
between the beach and the wreck of Terragar, although what people who knew 
nothing of metal would think of such a hard, nonorganic structure, was anyone's 
guess. Prilicla could feel Murchison's irritation at being ignored as it lifted 
the speaking trumpet to its mouth.
"Krisit," it said, pointing at the nearest spider vessel, then turning to 
indicate Rhabwar. "Preket krisit." It repeated the words several times before 
pointing at itself and saying several
times, "Hukmaki." Finally it pointed towards the spider vessel that had been 
first to arrive and so presumably contained her spider captain, and shouted, 
"Krititkukik."
There was no visible reaction, but he could feel the cloud of hostility that was 
emoting from the ships being laced with eddies of interest and curiosity. On the 
upperworks of the nearest vessel a spider appeared and began chittering loudly 
and continuously through its speaking trumpet, which was not directed at them. A 
party of five spiders assembled around the end of the boarding ramp. Suddenly 
they came scurrying towards them, unlimbering their crossbows as they came.
"Krititkukik," Murchison shouted again. "Humakik."
"They aren't coming to talk," said Prilicla.
"I don't have to be an empath to know that," Murchison said, radiating the anger 
of disappointment. "Captain, the shield!"
"Right," said Fletcher, "I'm powering it up for full repulsion in ten seconds 
from now. You've got that much time to get back across the line or you stay out 
there with your friends."
Prilicla banked sharply and flew back the way he had come, weaving from side to 
side as the crossbow bolts whispered past his slowly beating wings. Then he 
thought that evasive action might not be such a good idea because the spiders 
were shooting while on the move, which meant that their accuracy would suffer 
and he might dodge into one of the bolts. He decided to do as Murchison was 
doing and move straight and fast while giving them a steady target at which to 
aim and hopefully miss.
They crossed the disturbed line of sand with a full two seconds to spare before 
the meteorite shield stopped any more bolts from reaching them. The pathologist 
halted, turned, and for a moment watched the bolts that were heading straight at 
them bouncing off the shield and falling harmlessly onto the sand. The intensity 
of the spiders' emotional radiation was such that he was forced to land, shaking 
uncontrollably. The pathologist raised its speaking trumpet again.
"Don't waste your breath, friend Murchison," he said. "If you speak they will 
not listen. There are no calm, thinking minds among them. They feel only anger 
and disappointment, presumably at not being able to harm us, and an intensity 
of hatred and hostility so great that, that I haven't felt anything like it 
since the Trolanni reaction when they thought friend Fletcher was a druul. Let's 
return to our patients."
On their way back Prilicla was walking rather than flying beside Murchison. He 
saw it looking at his trembling limbs and felt its concern for the empathic pain 
he was feeling.
"Oh, well," it said, knowing that he knew its feelings and trying to move to a 
less painful subject, "at least we gave our bored, convalescent patients a 
little real-life drama to amuse them."
Before he could reply, Fletcher's voice sounded in their headsets.
"There'll be no shortage of drama around here," it said, in the calm voice it 
had been trained to use while reporting calamitous events. "The six spider 
vessels nearing the other side of the island will join the three already there 
within the next hour. An additional six units are hull-up on the horizon on this 
side, and there are two other three-unit fleets, which according to our 
wind-strength calculations, won't reach us until early tomorrow. All the 
indications are that the spiders are mounting a combined land, sea, and air 
assault. Your patients will have ringside seats."
CHAPTER 31
Neither the Earth-human DGDGs nor the Trolanni CHLIs were feeling worried by the 
impending attack because both species were star-travelers and were aware of the 
effectiveness of the meteorite shield. Terragars officers were feeling concern 
over the fact that the ongoing first contact with the spiders was not going 
well, but they were not deeply concerned because the ultimate responsibility 
for its mismanagement was not theirs and in the meantime they were willing to 
enjoy the spectacle. The feelings of Keet and Jasam were more selfish, radiating 
as they did intense relief that they were both alive and likely to remain that 
way, as well as general confusion at the strange things that were happening to 
and around them. Murchison, Danalta, and Naydrad had their feelings under 
control. It was the captain, whose voice was being relayed from Rhabwars control 
deck, who vocalized its worries by telling them not to worry.
"There is no immediate cause for concern," it said. "Our power pile will enable 
the life support and ship's thrusters to be operated indefinitely; but not so, 
the tractor-beam units and meteorite protection. In a planetary atmosphere they 
drain five times the power required for operation in a vacuum, and this ship was 
designed for speedy casualty retrieval rather than a duration flight."
 
"You mean," said Naydrad with an impatient ruffling of its fur, "that nobody 
expected us to be fighting an interspecies war with an ambulance ship. How long 
have we got?"
"Forty-six hours of full shield deployment," it replied, "after which we'll have 
to lift out of here, or remain unprotected until someone rescues us. I shall 
explain the tactical situation as it unfolds...."
But they didn't need the other's continuous evaluation and commentary because 
they could see everything that was happening for themselves.
The three ships from the other side of the island came into sight, hugging the 
shoreline and beaching themselves in the spaces between the first three. All six 
vessels dropped their landing ramps and opened the upper sail-shields where, 
Prilicla knew from previous observations, the gliders would be launched. There 
was no other visible activity and very little intership conversation. This was 
probably due, the captain thought, to all of the battle orders having already 
being issued so that they were awaiting only the signal to begin. The nearest 
six-unit fleet, all its sail-shields deployed to catch the wind off the sea, was 
approaching fast in line-abreast formation. Just above the horizon beyond them, 
at about fifty degrees lateral separation, two more highflying gliders were 
performing signal aerobatics for three more fleets which totaled fifteen units. 
They were still below the horizon and would not, the captain estimated, arrive 
until early the next day.
The six latest arrivals found gaps in which to come aground and they, too, 
closed their sail-shields apart from a few ventilation openings, and lowered 
their landing ramps. The beach was becoming really crowded, Prilicla thought, 
so that Terragar had disappeared from sight behind a line of giant, 
greenish-brown molluscs. There came the sound of the senior spiders on each ship 
using their speaking trumpets, followed by a lengthening silence.
"I don't think we'll see any action today," said the captain.
"Plainly they are waiting for the other fifteen ships to arrive before 
attacking us-----Oops, I stand corrected."
Spiders were crawling down the landing ramps of every ship to begin forming into 
lines on the dry sand above the water's edge. All of them were armed with 
crossbows and, in addition, eight of them carried between them what looked like 
two heavy battering rams with sharply tapering points. Simultaneously gliders 
were being launched on the seaward side, two from each ship.
They climbed slowly and heavily into the wind off the sea, and only when they 
made slow, banking turns towards the beach to take advantage of the thermals 
rising from the hot sand was it possible to see that the gliders carried 
passengers as well as pilots and that both were armed with crossbows.
The aircraft continued to gain height slowly and steadily while the ground 
forces deployed three-deep into a crescent formation, with the battering rams 
placed front and center, before advancing on the med station and watching 
patients.
The captain's voice returned, giving orders rather than a commentary.
"Dodds," it said briskly, "shoot a couple of flares inland and drag them along 
the perimeter. The vegetation has dried out since last time so be careful not to 
start a major fire, just give me a line of burning bushes and smoke. There's no 
sign of an attack developing from that quarter but I want to put them off the 
idea in case they burn themselves."
"Sir," said Haslam, "shall I whip up another sandstorm on the beach?"
"Negative," it replied, "there's no point in wasting the power. Last time we 
didn't want them to hit the meteorite shield, but they found out about it when 
they were shooting at Murchison and Prilicla. But have your tractors ready just 
in case. Dr. Prilicla."
"Yes, friend Fletcher," he said.
"There is no risk to your patients out there," it went on, "because there is no 
way that the spiders can get through our
shield, but I don't know what they might do to themselves while they're trying. 
It could be visually unpleasant, so I advise moving them indoors before..."
The captain's next few words were drowned by a wail of protest and accompanying 
emotional radiation.
"Thank you for the suggestion, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "but I am 
receiving strong vocal and emotional objections from my patients and staff, all 
of whom would prefer to see the action at first hand."
"Bloodthirsty savages," said the captain dryly, "and I'm not talking about the 
spiders."
There were twelve ships drawn up along the beach, each one carrying two gliders 
and a crew complement of anything up to two hundred. The bright yellow sand in 
front of the station was disappearing under the brownish-green bodies of over 
two thousand advancing spiders and, if it hadn't been for the knowledge that 
the meteorite shield made them invulnerable, it would have been a terrifying 
sight as the spiders halted about fifty meters from the shield and readied their 
crossbows. Apart from the faint whisper of glider slipstreams as they circled 
and climbed above the station, there was utter silence. Plainly, all the 
necessary orders had already been given and they were awaiting only the signal 
to attack.
"This is stupid," said Murchison from her position among the medical team 
grouped around and below him. "They aren't going to get anywhere with this 
attack so why don't they just forget it and go home? After all, we haven't hurt 
them in anyway and we're trying hard not to, but if this foolishness goes on, 
someone is sure to come to grief."
"We have hurt them, friend Murchison," said Prilicla, "but not physically or in 
any other way we can understand at present. Maybe we are horrible creatures from 
the sky, the forerunners of more to come, who are invading their land. That is 
reason enough, but I have the feeling there is another one. A large number of 
their people are close enough to give me an emotional
reading. For some reason they feel hatred, revulsion, and loathing for us. The 
feeling is intense and it is shared by all of them."
"I can't believe that, sir," Murchison protested. "When I was taken onto that 
ship there was physical contact with the spider captain who treated me well, 
considering the situation. It showed intelligence and intense curiosity. Maybe 
it was a scientist of some kind with its feelings under strict control. I don't 
have an empathic faculty like yours, but if it had been feeling hatred and 
revulsion as well as curiosity I'm sure I would have felt it. My feeling now is 
that since my escape, we may have done something to make them really hate us."
Before he could reply, Naydrad curved its body into a flat L so that its narrow 
head was pointing vertically upwards and said, "Even at the beginning of a 
battle their pilots like to show off. Look at that."
At an altitude of about three hundred meters the gliders that had been climbing 
singly or in small, random groups above the full width of the beach had come 
together into a wide, circular formation. For a few moments they circled 
nose-to-tail like the star performers in an aerial display, then they banked 
inwards in unison, tightening the circle until they were directly above the 
med-station buildings and the watchers. The captain's voice returned.
"Nice coordination," it said approvingly, "but I don't think they're showing 
off. The pilots and passengers are unlimbering their crossbows with the idea, 
I'd say, of shooting straight down at you. They probably figure that the bolts 
will have more penetration with the gravity assist of a three-hundred-meter 
fall. It's a sensible idea but, not knowing how our shield works, completely 
wrong. ... Now what the hell are they doing?"
One of the gliders had rolled into a near-vertical bank, tightening its circle 
and descending, sideslipping off height as it came. It was followed quickly by 
another three and then suddenly all of the aircraft were spiralling down towards 
them.
"Oh, no!" said the captain, answering its own question. "Be-
cause their crossbow bolts were stopped at ground level, they think the shield 
is a wall surrounding us instead of a protective hemisphere. They're going to 
crash into an invisible wall at full .. . Haslam, Dodds, deploy your tractors, 
wide focus and low power in pressor node. Try not to wreck their gliders, just 
fend them off before they hit it."
"Sir," Haslam protested, "I need a few seconds to focus on every target...."
"And there are too many targets," Dodds joined in.
"Do what you can" the captain had time to say before the first glider crashed 
into the curving invisible surface of the shield.
It looked as if the aircraft had broken up and collapsed into a loose ball of 
wreckage in midair without any apparent cause. Both occupants were entangled in 
the structure as it tumbled along the frictionless surface of the shield towards 
the ground. The second pilot, guessing that some strange weapon was being used 
against them, banked sharply in an attempt to climb up and away. But one wing 
struck the shield, crumpled, and its main spar penetrated the fuselage. The 
aircraft spun heavily into the frictionless surface and the passenger was thrown 
free before its pilot and the crippled glider began to slip groundwards at an 
accelerating rate.
"Haslam, Dodds, grab them," said the captain sharply. "Ease them down gently. 
Right, Doctor?"
"You're reading our minds, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla; then, "Friend 
Naydrad, instruct. .."
The fall of the first glider was checked about five meters from the ground and 
eased down so gently that it barely disturbed the sand, but the second one was 
caught two meters up so that its speed and impact were only slightly diminished.
"... Instruct the robots to return all patients to recovery at once," Prilicla 
went on. For a moment he stared at the semicircle of waiting spiders that had 
begun to edge closer while he tried to maintain stable hovering flight in spite 
of the almost physical
impact of their emotional hostility. He made a quick, mental calculation and 
spoke.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "will you please increase the ..."
"The diameter of the meteorite shield by, I would estimate, ten metres," the 
captain broke in. "Am I still reading your mind, Doctor?"
"You are, friend Fletcher," he replied, looking up.
The perfect, circular formation of the attacking gliders had broken up in 
disorder and the individual aircraft were scattering wildly and trying to regain 
height, all except two which had collided over an unshielded area of beach. 
They had each locked one of their wings together so that they were rotating 
around their common center of gravity and descending in an uncontrolled flat 
spin. Their rate of descent was fairly slow so that the spiders under them had 
time to scurry clear of the point of impact. They would hit too far away and 
there would be too many uninjured and angry spiders in the area between for him 
to risk extending the shield farther to try for a medical rescue. He hoped their 
friends would be able to take care of them and relieve his team of the 
responsibility.
"Prepare for incoming casualties," he said briskly. "Four patients, hostile and 
noncooperative requiring physical restraint. Physiological classification GKSD 
with no prior medical data on file. Impact trauma is expected with probable 
external and internal thoracic damage, extensive limb fracturing, and 
associated surface lesions. I will assess and assign the treatment priorities. 
Naydrad, send the antigravity litters and rescue equipment. The rest of you, 
let's go."
He flew towards the wreckage of the first glider but Murchison, sprinting across 
the sand on its long, shapely Earth-human legs, reached it seconds before he 
did. The litter with the rescue gear came a close third.
"Both casualties are deeply unconscious and pose no present danger," he said, 
"or future danger, provided you get rid of those weapons. Do you need Danalta to 
assist?"
Murchison shook its head. He could feel its concern for the casualties, its 
excitement at being presented with a new professional challenge and a flash of 
anger as it pulled the two crossbows and quivers from the wreckage and threw 
them with unnecessary force through the one-way protective shield at the 
surrounding spiders. It said angrily, "For you two bloody idiots the war is 
over. Sorry, sir, my mind was wandering. These two are badly entangled in 
wreckage with several limbs trapped, and one thorax has been transfixed by a 
wing spar. Rather than cut them free here and transfer them to litters, I feel 
sure that there would be less trauma involved if we lifted them, wreckage and 
all, with a tractor beam and placed them close to the treatment-bay entrance. 
That way we'll reduce the risk of compounding their injuries before treatment."
"Your feeling is correct, friend Murchison," he said, flying towards the second 
wreck. "Do that."
Only the pilot in the second wreck was unconscious while its passenger was 
radiating anger, fear, and hatred. Suddenly it burst out of the wreckage and 
aimed its crossbow at him while scurrying rapidly towards the station entrance. 
Prilicla flew high and took vigorous evasive action while Danalta interposed its 
virtually indestructible body to protect him, then extruded the limbs necessary 
to give chase and disarm the fast-moving spider. But even a shape-changer of 
Danalta's ability needed a few moments to change shape, and the spider was more 
than halfway to the open entrance of the treatment room where Murchison and 
Naydrad were attending to the casualties in the pile of wreckage that had been 
the first glider. Ignoring the DBDG and CHLI patients still waiting to be moved 
indoors, it was heading straight for the medical-team members, its crossbow 
cocked and aimed.
Suddenly it was rammed into the ground, skidding to a halt in the sand and lying 
motionless, as a tractor beam in pressor mode held it as if under a heavy glass 
plate to the ground.
"Sorry about that," said Haslam, "I had to be fast rather than gentle. Let me 
know when you want me to release it."
Murchison ran towards it and stopped just outside the pressor field and bent 
forward for a closer look as Danalta arrived.
"You damn near squashed it flat, Lieutenant," it said a moment later. "Release 
it now. There are no limb fractures that I can see, but there is evidence of 
overall pressure trauma, asphyxiation, and it may already be unconscious...."
"It is," said Prilicla as he flew closer, "but not deeply."
"Right," Murchison went on. "Danalta, lose its weapon and help me transfer it to 
a litter, under restraint. Naydrad, help me untangle the other two from this 
wreckage."
A few minutes later Danalta and himself were back at the other wreck. The 
thoracic injuries caused by the penetration of the wing spar appeared to be 
life-threatening but its emotional radiation was not characteristic of an 
imminent termination. With very little help from Prilicla's fragile limbs and 
pitifully weak muscles, the shape-changer extricated the pilot and transferred 
it, also under precautionary restraint, to the waiting litter. By that time all 
of the other patients had been moved indoors.
".. . Based on the actions of your lone hero," the captain was saying on the 
treatment-room communicator as they entered, "their attack strategy is plain. 
Deciding that they couldn't get through what they thought was a protective wall, 
and knowing from previous reconnaissance flights that there weren't many of us, 
they decided to go over the wall and land an airborne force to kill us before 
destroying the controls for the wall, except that it wasn't a wall. Considering 
their incomplete information, it was a neat plan...."
"Our hero is regaining consciousness," Murchison broke in. "Naydrad, hold its 
torso still so I can scan it."
Prilicla flew nearer and tried hard to project feelings of comfort and 
reassurance at the returning consciousness. But it was so terrified and confused 
by its surroundings, and emoting the dread characteristic of an entity expecting 
the worst of all possible fates, that he could not reach it.
He glanced back through one of the room's big windows at
the spider horde beyond the shield, then up at the circling gliders as he felt 
the waves of hatred beating in on him. If those feelings weren't rooted in pure 
xenophobia then something the med team was doing or perhaps not doing was being 
badly misunderstood because the spiders' hatred and loathing was mounting 
steadily in intensity. But how could he explain a misunderstanding in the middle 
of a battle when all he could do was feel but not speak? War, he thought sadly 
as he looked down at the terrified casualty, was composed mostly of hatred and 
heroism, both of them misplaced.
CHAPTER 32
Apart from the glider pilot pierced by the wing spar," Murchison dictated into 
the recorders as it worked, "the spiders taken from the two wrecks are 
presenting with multiple limb fractures but, according to my scanner, few of the 
expected internal injuries. This is due to the fact that their bodies are 
encased in a tough but flexible exoskeleton which bends rather than breaks. 
Three of them display physical damage which, in a previously known 
physiological type, is a condition which would be considered serious but not 
critical. One of these, the spider who tried to attack the station singlehanded, 
if that's the right word, got squashed by the pressor beam and sustained anoxia 
and minor limb deformation. Both of these conditions are treatable by temporary 
supportive splinting and a period of rest, so by rights it should go to the end 
of the line. But these are new life-forms to us and that is the reason why, with 
Dr. Prilicla's permission, I propose using the fourth and least damaged casualty 
as a medical benchmark for its more seriously injured colleagues."
It broke off to look searchingly at Prilicla before going on. "The mental 
condition of the fourth casualty must be causing severe emotional distress to 
Dr. Prilicla, perhaps of an intensity that could affect its work. For that 
reason I propose to render the fourth casualty unconscious before proceeding 
with ..."
"Can that be done safely?" Prilicla broke in.
"I believe so, sir," it replied. "We know from experience that the metabolism, 
brain structure, and associated nerve and sensory networks of insectoid 
life-forms have much in common, as has the painkilling and anesthetic medication 
used on them. Graduated and increasing doses will be administered to Spider 
Patient Four and the effects noted and calibrated for use on the others."
"Proceed, friend Murchison," he said, "and thank you."
Gradually the close-range source of hatred, fear, and revulsion that was Spider 
Patient Four died away to become the mild radiation signature characteristic of 
a mind that was no longer capable of a sentient or sapient response. Strangely, 
the emotional radiation emanating from the multitude of more distant sources was 
also diminishing. The voice of the captain on their communicator gave the 
reason.
"The sun is going down and the spider ground forces are withdrawing to their 
ships," it said, and Prilicla could feel its pleasure and relief, "as are all of 
the gliders. The attack is over for now. We'll remain alert for any hostile 
night activity and kill the meteorite shield to conserve power."
"Next," said Naydrad, ruffling its fur irritably, "it will want us to operate by 
candlelight."
"Spider Patient Four appears to be deeply unconscious," said Murchison, ignoring 
the remark, "and there are no indications suggesting a physiological rejection 
of the anesthetic. Do you detect any emotional radiation to the contrary, sir?"
"I do not, friend Murchison," said Prilicla. "Now let us proceed at once with 
the patient who is most grievously ill. Friend Naydrad, is Spider One ready for 
us?"
"As ready as it will ever be," the nurse replied with another impatient tufting 
of its fur. "I have immobilized the patient on its undamaged side but otherwise 
have done nothing. Carpentry was not included in my medical training."
Nor in mine, thought Prilicla. He led the way towards the glider pilot's 
operating frame and projected reassurance as he said "The accurate cutting, 
smoothing, and extraction of splintered wood from the deeply  perforated 
carapace of the patient and the rebuilding of the  damaged exoskeleton and limbs 
are, to my mind a form of carpentry in that initially we shall be cutting wood. 
Let us begin-"
The impact that had torn the wing spar loose at its fuselage attachment point 
had also driven it transversely into the pilot's underbelly and upwards  until 
it had penetrated the inner surface of the beings thick, leathery carapace, 
where it emerged for a few inches beyond it, that natural body-armor had 
resisted penetration to the extent that it had caused the structural member to 
bend and break in a classic  example of a greenstick fracture inside the 
abdominal contents, and removing the broken-but-still-joined spar, including the 
splinters and pieces of binding cord adhesive material, and  tattered wing 
fabric still attached to it could cause more damage than that inflicted by the 
original entry wound.
The few inches of spar  projecting through the hole it had made in the carapace 
they left until later. The earlier scanner examination had shown that the wooden 
member was pressed so tightly into surrounding tissues that it had sealed off 
most of the damaged blood vessels and reduced the bleeding in the area That 
section of spar could safely be left in place for the time being while the more 
urgent repair work in the abdominal area was attempted
Prilicla began by surgically enlarging the entry wound to give Danalta and 
himself more space to work, since speed rather than minimal surgery was required 
here. Carefully he slid a fine laser knife with an angled blade focus along the 
spar to the point where it had fractured and bent. There was a brief puff of 
vapor as he cut it in two and the small quantity of wood, spider blood,
and body fluid in the area dried up or boiled away
"Naydrad'" said Prilicla, "withdraw the spar smoothly along the original angle 
of entry and apply suction where I indicate. Danalta, be ready to help me 
control the bleeding and subsequent repairs. Murchison, remove foreign material 
from the lost blood and retain it for possible reuse...."
There were a large number of spiders around, he thought, but he was not in a 
position to ask for volunteer blood donors.
"... We will ignore any loose splinters for now," he went on, "and tidy up 
later. But Murchison, keep track of them in case they find a way into the 
circulatory system. Gently, Naydrad, begin the withdrawal."
Before the section of spar had been pulled free of the wound, Murchison's 
scanner was showing copious bleeding from two of the major blood vessels that it 
had been compressing.
He said quickly, "Naydrad, suction, let's see what we're doing. Danalta, clamp 
off the bleeders while I go after the the torn section of bowel. Murchison, 
enlarge the image of the operative field by four, and hold it as steady as you 
can."
Danalta was waiting with a blocky hand resting against one of the 
operating-frame supports to steady it, and with two long, pencil-thin fingers 
already extruded. When the digits reached the severed blood vessels they divided 
in half and each one grew two wide, wafer-thin spatulate tips which wrapped 
themselves gently around two veins above and below the tears and tightened until 
the blood diminished to a trickle and stopped. Prilicla inserted his own long, 
featherlike digits into the wound and isolated and tied off the torn length of 
bowel in a more orthodox fashion with running sutures.
"The tearing is too irregular and widespread for us to attempt a dependable, 
long-term repair," he said, "so we'll have to do a resection after completely 
removing the affected length. But not too much of it. The digestive and 
waste-elimination system in this species has a lesser redundancy of internal 
tubing than have our Earth-human and Kelgian friends. Naydrad, be ready with a 
sterile biodegradable sleeve with a fifty-day dissolution period. By that time, 
judging by our patient's basal metabolism, healing should be complete. Friend 
Murchison?"
"I agree," it said, radiating controlled concern. "But, sir, can I make a 
suggestion? Two, in fact. One is that we don't spend too much time on the 
tidiness of the work. The patient's vital signs, when compared with those of the 
spiders with minimal injures, are not good. Taking into consideration the severe 
trauma caused by it being transfixed by that wing spar, the other suggestion is 
that you do the remaining repair work from your present operating site rather 
than cutting open a flap of carapace, which would certainly increase the amount 
and duration of the trauma."
"Very well," he replied and felt her relief, "we'll do it that way."
Even though it was being performed for the first time on a member of a 
hitherto-unknown species, the procedure was in most respects routine. That was 
because the other-species Educator tapes that had been impressed on his 
Cinrusskin mind contained physiological and medical data as well as the 
surgical knowledge of five other intelligent life-formsKelgians, Melfans, 
Earth-humans, Tralthans, and the light-gravity Eurilsas well as his own. There 
were only so many ways, in spite of the wide variety of outward physical 
differences, that the internal plumbing of a warm-blooded oxygen breather could 
be put right, and he had good second-hand surgical knowledge of most of them. He 
was relieved to find that the spider physiology shared a few minor similarities 
with the Kelgian caterpillars and his own Cinrusskin species, but he had to 
keep searching for others.
Prilicla cringed mentally as he shuffled through the welter of other-species 
thoughts and impressions that filled his mind with apparently warring alien 
entities. Without the Educator tape system the practice of all but the simplest 
forms of other-species surgery and medicine would have been impossible, but the 
tapes had one serious, psychological disadvantage that barred their use to all 
but the most stable, adaptable, and, he suspected in his own case, the most 
cowardly and non-resistant of minds. That was because the tapes did not transfer 
only the clinical information
possessed by the donor minds but their entire personalities, which included all 
of their pet peeves, phobias, short tempers, and greater or lesser psychological 
faults as well.
Many times the hospital's diagnosticians as well as his fellow senior physicians 
had described the process as an experience of multiple schizophrenia viewed from 
the inside, as the donor entities apparently struggled with the tape recipient 
for possession of its mind. The effect was purely subjective, naturally, but 
where mental or physical discomfort was concerned there was no real difference 
so far as he was concerned. His own method of dealing with the problem, a 
solution which had sorely perplexed the hospital's department of other-species 
psychology because most intelligent beings were incapable of acting in such 
cowardly fashion, had been to offer no resistance at all to the donor mind and 
to use its information no matter which of them thought they were boss of their 
mental world.
But in the physical world, while an other-species entity was occupying most of 
his mind, he had to remember to behave like a weak and incredibly fragile 
Cinrusskin and, if his donor entity should be a heavy-gravity Hudlar or Tralthan 
with a body-weight measured in tons, not to throw his non-existent weight 
around.
Like himself the spiders possessed six legs, but they were much more heavily 
muscled and he doubted if "cowardice" was in common usage in their vocabularies.
Even with Naydrad pressing down on the remainder of the spar where it projected 
through the carapace while Danalta and himself drew it out from underneath, the 
second half of the procedure took longer because the repair work to the 
lacerated blood vessels in the area, while operationally similar, was both more 
delicate and more awkwardly situated. But finally it was done, the operative 
field was cleared of foreign debris and the abdominal wound sutured and a 
small, sterile plate placed over the exit wound in the carapace. The repair work 
that remained was urgent and necessary but not life-threatening.
The glider impact had broken three of the patient's limbs,
with one of them sustaining a double fracture that had come close to being a 
traumatic amputation.
"We have already ascertained," he said with a glance towards Murchison, "that 
the limbs on this species are exoskeletal and are composed of hardened, organic 
cylinders with no external sensors or muscle system apart from those serving 
the digits at the extremities. They use a proprioceptor system which enables the 
brain to know the exact, three-dimensional position of a limb with respect to 
the body at any given time, and movement is controlled hydraulically by the 
increase or reduction of internal fluid. Much of this fluid has been lost 
because of its injuries, but the supply should be replaced artificially with 
sterile fluid until it is replaced naturally in the manner of other species who 
automatically restore blood or other body fluids to the required volume.
"With this patient," he went on, "we will use the accepted procedure for joining 
exoskeletal fractures and encase them in a rigid collar of the required length. 
We will begin with the left forward member and ... I'm tired, Murchison, but 
still operational. Control your feelings, you are emoting like a nagging 
life-mate!"
The other was radiating concern rather than irritation but it did not reply.
"I'm sorry, friend Murchison," he apologized a moment later, "for my lack of 
concentration and mental confusion. Certain aspects of the procedure brought my 
Earth-human and Kel-gian tape-donor personalities to the forefront of my mind, 
and that is not a polite combination."
Murchison laughed quietly and said, "I guessed as much. But look out of the 
window, it's morning already. This has been a long op and you must be close to 
the limits of your endurance. With the experience we've already gained on this 
one, treating its limb fractures and the superficial injuries of the other 
spider casualties will be simple by comparison. The rest of the cases are 
non-urgent so that if we do encounter problems, they can wait until you waken. 
But I'm sure the rest of us can handle them."
"I'm sure you can," said Prilicla, looking at it through a thickening fog of 
fatigue that was becoming opaque to coherent thought. "But there is something 
about this one that concerns me, subtle differences in the external and internal 
body structure from that of your benchmark patient in recovery. This is a new 
species to us. The pilot may have sustained impact injuries that at first were 
not as obvious as physical trauma, deformation, and internal-organ displacement, 
perhaps, which ..."
He broke off as Murchison laughed, louder this time, and there was an explosion 
of amusement from it and the other members of the team that momentarily hid 
their feelings of concern for himself.
"Perhaps you were concentrating so much on the surgical details," Murchison 
said, "that you were too busy to notice or identify the differences you 
mentioned. They are due to the fact that our benchmark patient is a female and 
this one isn't."
"You are right, I must be tired," he said, joining and adding to their waves of 
amusement as he flew unsteadily to the large, flat top of an instrument cabinet 
in a corner of the room and settled onto it. "But I shall observe and try to 
stay awake until all of our spiders are treated."
He surprised himself by doing just that before his increasing physical and 
mental fatigue rendered sentience and sapience next to impossible. With all of 
the spider patients treated and transferred to the recovery room, his last 
conscious impression was of Murchison standing before the communicator and 
speaking to the captain.
"I've already tried to talk to one of them," it was saying, "and I'd like to try 
again using simplified first contact procedure. These people aren't 
space-travelers so I won't need the complicated Federation historical material 
used during the Trolanni contact. There's nothing else to do here at the moment 
except
brood about the nasty things that could happen to us. So I want to try talking 
to them again. What do you think?"
"I think yes, ma'am," Fletcher replied. "Give me half an hour to modify the 
program, then I'll stand by to advise on its usage. There are eight more spider 
ships hull-up on the horizon and another twenty on the radar screens but still 
no activity on the beach. That situation will certainly change before long and 
the result will be a lot of people, possibly including ourselves, being killed.
"Talking our way out of this trouble," it ended, "is the preferred option."
CHAPTER 34
Prilicla wakened suddenly with the feeling that he had been caught up in a riot. 
Many strident, other-species word sounds and waves of angry emotional radiation 
were beating into his mind. Suddenly terrified and still befuddled with sleep, 
he wondered if the meteorite shield had failed and the spiders were overrunning 
the station. But then his slowly clearing mind and empathic faculty made him 
aware that the loudest sounds and strongest feelings were emanating from two 
principle sources, one of which was long-familiar to him, and both of them were 
in the adjoining recovery ward.
Not trusting his trembling wings to fly, he walked unsteadily into the other 
room to find out what was happening.
With the exception of the recently treated and still-unconscious spider pilot 
and Captain Fletcher, who was staring at the proceedings from the ward 
communicator screen, everyone in the ward was trying to talk at the same time, 
so much so that parts of the conversations were lost in the derisive beeping of 
the ward translator going into overload. Farther down the ward the Terragar 
casualties and Keet were arguing, heatedly but in tones low enough for them to 
hear the quiet voice of Jasam, who was postoperatively debilitated but 
recovering well, making a contribution. But most of the vocal and emotional 
noise was coming from the argument between Murchison and the glider pilot's 
uninjured passenger.
The spider passenger was arguing... ?
Surprised but not yet knowing if he should be pleased, he turned up the output 
volume of his own translator unit and, borrowing a phrase from his Earth-human 
mind partner that seemed appropriate in the circumstances, said, "Will everyone 
please shut the hell up?" When the arguments tapered off into silence, he added, 
"Except you, friend Murchison. The spider passenger's words are being 
translated. We can talk to and understand each other now, and make peace before 
anyone else is hurt. This should be the best possible news, but instead it feels 
as if a war is starting. Explain."
The pathologist inhaled and exhaled slowly as it strove to regain its customary 
emotional equilibrium before speaking; then it said, "As you know, I'd already 
learned a few words of their language when I was captured, and with the help of 
the captain's first-contact material and a lot of sign language, we were able to 
make ourselves understood to the point where the translation computer could take 
over and finish the job. We can now talk to each other, and that includes 
talking with the other patients and staff, but we aren't communicating. It won't 
believe a damn thing I or anyone else says to it." Murchison spread her arms out 
horizontally to full extension with the palms of its hands facing each other. 
"There's a credibility gap this wide."
"I understand," said Prilicla. He began walking towards the disbelieving spider, 
slowly in case his appearance might frighten it, to stop beside its litter. It 
was capable of ambulation but was being firmly restrained by webbing for its own 
as well as for the other patients' protection. Then spreading his wings he took 
off to maintain a stable hover close to the ceiling where he was sure of getting 
everyone's attention.
"What the hell are you," said the spider, its chittering speech
serving as a background to the accurately translated words, "some kind of 
performing bloody pet?"
He ignored Naydrad's agitated fur and the choking sounds Murchison was making 
and replied, "No, I am the entity in charge of the people here." Because the 
members of his medical team already knew what was required, it was to the 
Trolanni and Earth-human patients that he went on. "Everyone, please be quiet 
and, so far as you are able, stop emoting for the next few minutes. I must be 
free of extraneous emotional interference if I am to obtain an accurate reading 
of this patient's feelings and the reasons for the hostility the spiders show 
towards us... ."
"I'm not a spider," the patient broke in, "I am Irisik, a Crextic, and a free 
and intelligent member of the floating clan Sitikis, who will shortly join the 
other clans in wiping you off the face of our world. And if you don't know the 
reason for our hostility, then in spite of the strange and wondrous magic you 
have used against us, you are very stupid."
"Not stupid, just ignorant," said Prilicla, trying to maintain his stable hover 
in spite of the gale of strong emotion blowing up at him; "but ignorance is a 
temporary condition that can be relieved by the acquisition of knowledge. You 
have feelings of fear, anger, intense hatred, and loathing towards us. If you 
will tell me why you feel this way, I will tell you why there is no reason for 
the Sitikis to have these feelings. A simple exchange of knowledge about 
ourselves will solve the problem."
"Your problem, not ours," said Irisik, looking towards the injured glider pilot. 
"You will satisfy your curiosity regarding your victims as well as your hunger. 
In the end we will be eaten with the rest of your catch."
"I've told it over and over again that we don't eat people. ..." Murchison 
began angrily, then stopped as Prilicla made the Cinrusskin gesture for silence.
"Please," he said. "I want to hear this patient speaking to me and no one else. 
Irisik, what makes you think that we eat people?"
Irisik inclined its head, the only part of its body free of the litter 
restraints, towards Murchison. "This other stupid one," it said, "has been 
telling me many things, including the lie that it wants us to go on living. 
That, a sane, adult, reasoning person cannot and will not believe. Don't waste 
time telling me new and even more fantastic lies. You know the answer to your 
question, so don't pretend that either one of us is stupid."
Prilicla was silent for a moment. Considering the other's emotional state, and 
in particular its behavior and verbal coherency in a situation that was unique 
in its experience and which it fully believed would have only a lethal outcome, 
he found Irisik's behavior admirable. But not the feelings of solid 
self-certainty and disbelief that surrounded the creature's mind like a stone 
wall.
Murchison, he knew, would already have given it a simplified version of the 
work of the Federation, the Monitor Corps, the hospital, and the special 
ambulance ship nearby and the duties its crew performed, clearly without 
success. He thought of explaining that he himself felt only sympathy for its 
fears which would in a short time be proved groundless. But he felt sure, and 
his feelings were rarely wrong, that the wall of certainty surrounding the 
other's beliefs and disbeliefs was impervious to anything he could do or say.
Perhaps the wall could only be demolished from within.
"To the contrary," he continued, "pretend that I and everyone else here is 
stupid. You are an intelligent, logical being who has good reasons for feeling 
and believing as you do, so share these reasons with us. Whether you believe 
what I am telling you now or not, we do not intend to do anything to anyone 
here, apart from feeding them, for the rest of the day. So if you were to talk 
about yourself, your world and your people and why you believe the things you 
do, the day or days will pass for us in an
interesting manner. If what you tell us is particularly interesting, it may be 
that so much time will pass that..."
"Shades of Scheherazade," said Murchison quietly.
No doubt it was an obscure reference from something in the pathologist's 
Earth-human past, but this was not the time to go off on historical tangents. He 
went on. "... that your friends will be able to find a way of rescuing you. 
There is a saying among our people, Irisik, that while there is life there is 
hope."
"We have a similar saying," the other said.
"Then talk to us, Irisik," said Prilicla. "Tell us the things you think we 
already know, and with them the many things that you know we don't know. Is 
there anything we can do to make you feel more comfortable, apart from letting 
you go free, before you begin?"
"No," said Irisik. "But how do you know I won't tell you lies, or exaggerate the 
truth?"
"We won't," Prilicla replied, settling to the ground beside the other's litter. 
"As strangers we might not be able to tell the difference, but the lies or 
exaggerated truth will be equally interesting to us. Please go on, and begin 
with the reason why you think we will eat you."
Irisik was radiating fear, anger, and impatience, but it spent a few moments 
getting these feelings under control before it spoke.
"You will eat us," it began, "because your actions from the start made it clear 
that that is why you are here. Piracy and food-gathering raids are well known to 
us, unfortunately, but they are by other sea clans who are too uncivilized, or 
too lazy, to fish or practice the arts of plant and animal husbandry and find it 
easier, like you, to steal rather than to cultivate. We don't know where you 
came from except that it was somewhere in the sky, but from the first time you 
were observed by the Crextic who walk the clouds, your intentions were clear. As 
a precaution they maintained a height too great for them to view your 
activities in detail, or to see you take our growing food into your great white 
ship. In fact, many of us could not believe that you could be so shortsighted, 
stupid, and criminal as to take immature livestock that would rob us not only of 
the animals, but of the many generations of food beasts that would have 
followed, but we were shown to be wrong... ."
... While the living food and fruit was still too immature and small to be seen 
by the cloud-walkers, Irisik went on to explain, the other strange animals that 
the strangers used for food had been clearly visible to them. They had observed 
how these creatures had been tethered to litters, how they had had their walking 
limbs removed to prevent them from escaping, how they had been exposed to 
sunlight and been periodically washed in the sea in order to remove wastes and 
harmful parasites and render them more fit for consumption.
While it had been speaking, Prilicla felt Murchison trying very hard to control 
its feelings of shock and abhorrence and its vain attempts to maintain silence. 
He didn't try to stop it speaking because it was wanting to ask the questions 
that he badly wanted answered himself.
"Some of these are members of our own species," Murchison said, gesturing 
towards the Terragar casualties. "Do you think we would eat them? Would KritikI 
mean Krititkukikhave eaten me?"
"Yes, to both questions," Irisik replied without hesitation. "It is stupid to 
waste a supply of edible food, regardless of the emotional connections, if any, 
that one may have with the source. It is not pleasant for the immediate family 
or friends of the deceased, and many choose to eat only the smallest of morsels 
and pass the remainder to hungry or needy strangers who have no memories of or 
emotional ties with the meal. But it must be done if the essence of a beloved 
parent or siblings is to continue into the future. Plainly it is the same with 
you people."
Murchison's emotional radiation was so confused that it was unable to speak. 
Irisik went on. "Knowing your intentions and reason for being here, we spread 
the word about you and set about assembling all of the sea clans in this ocean. 
Some of them are little more than pirates and food robbers like you, and 
normally we would prefer to shoot our crossbows at them as sky-talk to their 
ships to ask for their cooperation, but everyone agreed to forget our 
differences for the present in order to kill the strangers.
"You may think me guilty of exaggeration," it went on, "but I assure you that 
the Crextic ships already assembled around this island are only a small fraction 
of those which will arrive within the next few days. In spite of your fire 
throwers, your invisible weapons that hurl sand and water at us, and your magic 
shield, we will smother and crush you with our cloud-walkers and surface 
fighters. The cost to us will be extreme, but we must ensure that no more of 
your kind are tempted to raid our world.
"And I must correct your mistake," it continued into the shocked silence. 
"Krititkukik is not a name, it is the title of the leader of our sea clan. It 
would have eaten your most desirable parts, as is its right, before sharing you 
with the rest of the crew. Being a sensitive person as well as one who was 
filled with scientific curiosity, and knowing that you were a strange but 
intelligent source of food with feelings, it would have concealed from you as 
long as possible the fact that you were to be eaten. Sometimes I think the 
Krititkukik lacks the quality of ruthlessness necessary to a leader."
Prilicla caught a brief, complex burst of emotion whose meaning was 
unmistakable, composed as it was of the strange combination of yearning, 
tenderness, and a feeling of grief over the impending loss of someone with whom 
one was deeply and emotionally involved. They were the feelings, he felt sure, 
of and for a life-mate.
"Believe me," said Prilicla, "you will be together again soon."
"I don't believe you," said Irisik, "or anything else that you or the other meat 
gatherers say to me."
"I understand," said Prilicla, "so I shall instruct my meat gatherers, as you 
insist on calling them, not to speak to you at all. You and the other sources of 
meat may talk to each other if and when either of you wish. The charge nurse 
will continue to administer food, medication, and to periodically check on your 
condition and that of the others, but without speaking to you..."
"Good," said Naydrad, rippling its fur. "I hate being called a liar, especially 
when my people don't even know what a lie is."
"... until, that is," he ended, "you ask to speak to us. All other members of 
the medical staff including myself will leave you now."
Irisik was radiating surprise, confusion, and uncertainty. It said, "I know you 
aren't telling the truth, but your lies are interesting and I want to listen to 
more of them before I am killed. Please stay."
"No," said Prilicla firmly. "Until you believe that you are being told the 
truth, including the truth that we mean no harm to you, your people, or your 
world and the animal life here, we will not speak again. And remember, I know 
exactly how you are feeling about everything from moment to moment, and it is 
impossible to lie with the emotions. When I feel that you are ready to believe 
me, I shall speak with you again."
He led Murchison and Danalta into the communications room where Fletcher, 
displaying the symptoms of Earth-human elevated blood pressure, was glaring at 
them from the viewscreen. His two assistants were bursting to speak, but the 
captain got its question in first.
"Doctor," it said, "this is an unnecessary waste of time. I know the feelings of 
a person of your medical seniority and emotional sensitivity must be hurt at 
being treated as a liar. You wouldn't be humanI'm sorry, I mean Cinrusskinif 
you didn't feel angry about that six-legged doubting Thomas. But I'm
sure that with a little more patience and forbearance on your part you will be 
able to convince it that..."
"I know its present feelings, friend Fletcher," Prilicla broke in, "well enough 
to know that I won't be able to change them. It is a strong-minded, stubborn 
entity who considers itself to be one of the many victims around it who are 
shortly to be terminated and eaten. It won't believe us, but hopefully our 
other so-called victims will be able to disabuse it and the other spider 
patients of that idea."
"Very quickly, I hope," Fletcher said, its features losing some of their high 
color. "If there is a sustained attack lasting more than thirty-six hours, the 
screen will go down. Before then we will have to make a main-drive takeoff and 
crisp a few hundred spiders. That is not the Federation's idea of making 
friendly contact with another intelligent, if temporarily misguided, species. 
All our careers are on the line here, apart from the psychological trauma we'll 
suffer if things go that badly wrong."
"Yes, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, feeling the other's tortured, emotional 
radiation all the way from the ship and trying to do something about it. "But 
there is a precedent. This is on a smaller, less bloody scale, but remember what 
happened when Sector General was caught in the middle of the Federation-Etlan 
War. Due to massive overcrowding the casualties from both sides were treated in 
the same ward. There is a close similarity to our present situation."
"Is there," said the captain, its mind obviously contemplating a future where 
all was desolation. Irritably it added, "I wasn't there, Doctor, and it wasn't a 
war. It was a large-scale police action."
Prilicla well remembered that vicious and incredibly violent battle which had 
been waged around Sector General, when six of the Federation's sector subfleets 
including three of its capital ships had opposed a much heavier force from the 
Etlan Empire, whose ruler had fed his people totally wrong information about the 
other side. He didn't want to argue with the captain who, like the rest of its 
Monitor Corps colleagues, were touchy about the fact that their organization 
comprised the greatest assemblage of military might that the galaxy had ever 
known.
But Prilicla had been there and it had certainly felt like a war.
CHAPTER 35
The sun shone down on the golden beach, the white, lacy edge of the deep-blue 
sea, and on the many ships assembling around the island that were continually 
launching their gliders. Apart from a small working party of spiders who were 
engaged in transferring odd pieces of Terragars equipment to the beach, there 
was no ground activity visible, but the aerial bombardment was unceasing.
Instead of carrying an armed passenger as payload, the gliders were loading up 
with the equivalent weight in rocks, climbing to an altitude of about two 
thousand meters and dropping them on the med station. More often than not, their 
aim was wide of the mark, but on the off-chance that some of those ridiculously 
unsophisticated missiles would pierce the flimsy structures, injuring or 
killing the patients or team members inside, the meteorite shield had had to be 
deployed. Everyone was safe for the time being, but that time was limited.
Another battle, verbal rather than physical, was raging between the spider 
patients and the other occupants of the recovery ward. Apart from Naydrad, that 
was, who had turned off its translator and whose fur was moving in gentle, 
restful waves while it watched the medical monitors in case the various blood 
pressures rose above acceptable safety limits. And in the com-
munications room yet another and more polite war of words was raging between the 
other members of the medical team and Captain Fletcher and his crew.
"We can't understand why you're waiting, Doctor," the captain said as it 
restated the position in unnecessarily simple language for the recorders. 
"Plainly your idea isn't working. We now have shield power for less than 
twenty-one hours' duration. With no power to spare for pressor beams to lift us 
to an area of sea that is clear of ships, it will have to be an environmentally 
unfriendly takeoff on main thrusters. The vegetation on this half of the 
island, not to mention the spiders and their ships, will be toast. Go in and 
explain the scientific facts of life to Irisik and the spider pilot, now that it 
has regained consciousness. I know this is a hard decision for both of us to 
make, Doctor, but we can't sacrifice Rhabwars crew and the Trolanni patients by 
letting a bunch of misguided spiders overrun and kill us."
It softened its tone, and in spite of the distance separating them, Prilicla 
could feel the other's determination overriding its reluctance to cause 
emotional distress to an empathic friend as it went on. "You have the medical 
rank in the present situation, Doctor, but in this instance I am disputing it. 
So tell your spider patients, as gently but firmly as you can, that they are not 
to be eaten but they must leave us and return to their vessels at once before 
they, and the crews of the ships along the beach, die in the fires we will light 
during our takeoff. You can move the injured glider pilot in one of your 
litters, with the power unit and circuitry set for a non-catastrophic 
self-destruct shortly after they reach their ships. For a pre-space age species 
they've already been contaminated with too much advanced technology as it is."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla gently, "please don't be feeling so 
uncomfortable about your threat to depose the senior medical officer during a 
medical emergency, and do nothing hasty. Irisik is one cynical spider and I have 
a strong feeling, amounting to a virtual certainty that it wouldn't believe 
anything I told it, which is why I shall tell it nothing and allow what it 
thinks are the other sources of food to do the talking. Please wait, watch the 
ward vision pickup, and listen... ."
Naydrad had just finished its round of patient observations and had curled its 
caterpillar-like body into its relaxer frame in front of the monitor screens 
when the silence was broken by one of the Terragar casualties.
"Charge Nurse," it said, "I'm starving to death."
"Your self-diagnosis is not confirmed by the monitor readings," Naydrad 
replied. "Considering the fact that your lower ambulatory limbs are missing and 
your food requirements are proportionately reduced, terminal malnutrition would 
only occur if fluids as well as food were to be withheld for twenty-plus 
standard days. Lunch will be in three hours. Until then, compose yourself and 
try to think beautiful thoughts."
"He can't think beautiful thoughts," another one of the Terragar casualties 
joined in, "and neither can I, because Pathologist Murchison hasn't been in for 
nearly three days. I like her around even if the spiders are keeping her from 
dunking us in the ocean ..."
The other Earth-human patients radiated feelings of approval and minor 
disappointment while making whistling sounds that did not translate.
"... but why," it ended, "won't she come in and talk to us?"
Unable to lie, Naydrad elected to remain silent.
"Among my people," said Irisik, speaking for the first time that day, "it is 
considered socially indelicate, unless the entity concerned is a close family 
relation or a loved one, to hold a lengthy conversation with what is in effect 
one's next meal. To do such a thing would unsettle the emotions as well as the 
digestion, and this one is delicate in its handling of your feelings. After 
all, your two walking limbs are missing and yet you feel no hostility towards 
it, the person who ate them. Or is it a religious thing with you, and you know 
that the food you contribute in this way enables part of your being to survive 
into the indefinite future?"
"No!" said the Terragar casualty, radiating irritation and impatience. "It isn't 
religious. She doesn't eat intelligent entities. .. ."
"But all living creatures have intelligence," Irisik broke in. "Are you saying 
that it eats only vegetation?"
"No," said the other. "Meat is eaten, not frequently, and only when it 
originates from beings of very low intelligence."
"Like you?" asked Irisik in a disparaging voice. After a moment, it went on. 
"But who sets the level of intelligence for edibility? You yourself do not 
appear to be of very low intelligence, so I suspect that a process of mental 
persuasion, perhaps reinforced by the use of mind-altering poisons rather than 
a spiritual belief in survival after death, is used to hide from you your status 
as a food animal. The mental persuasion must be both subtle and strong if it can 
make you, an apparently young and healthy person whose body has already been 
partially eaten, argue on behalf of your eater.
"My own mind," it added, "would not be so easily influenced, especially by 
another member of my own species."
"But my legs weren't eaten, dammit," the other replied. "They were cooked, 
maybe, but definitely not eaten. I was there and remember exactly what happened 
to them."
"They might look like outsized druuls," said Keet, joining the conversation, 
"but we know that they don't eat people, they repair them."
"Or perhaps you only believe that you know what happened," Irisik went on, 
"because mental influence or chemicals have been used to influence you into 
thinking that way. It is natural among civilized beings to conceal the true 
facts from their prey so that they will not dwell unnecessarily on their fate, 
and remain content until the ultimate moment." It swiveled its head towards the 
Trolanni patient. "Food appearance and presentation are important. Repairing 
its wounds, so as to avoid the possibility of a premature death, is a sensible 
course if the food is to live and remain fresh until the time for consumption 
arrives.
There is no reason why living food should be made to suffer unnecessarily."
Prilicla felt a brief eruption of fear and uncertainty from the two Trolanni 
which they controlled and negated within a few seconds. From its litter, Jasam 
said weakly, "When a bunch of outsized druuls tried to tether and board our 
searchsuit, we had the same idea. But the others who came along later placed 
themselves in great personal danger while retrieving the first group and 
learning to communicate with us and repairing our injuries. Plainly they were 
taking far too much trouble, when we had time to think about it, for a very 
meager addition to their food supply. As a species we are deeply frightened 
about our future survival, and these druul-like creatures and the others from 
their two ships have promised to help us to solve your problems, but we have no 
fears regarding our survival as individuals. Neither should you."
Irisik paused before replying. "You say that you and your captors have walked 
the web between the stars, in ships with structures so hard that they have been 
neither woven nor grown, and that you have the knowledge to make and use many 
wondrous tools to build and repair these vessels and the sailors who fly in 
them. By your standards we Crextic are not educated. But I know the difference 
between education and intelligence and, with respect, an educated person can 
also be gullible."
Keet lost its patience. "I know that skepticism is supposed to be a sign of 
intelligence, but this is ridiculous. You are a seagoing spider who disbelieves 
people who have sailed among the stars. It's a waste of time trying to make you 
see sense because you probably haven't got any. Your mind is tightly closed."
The growing irritation and impatience from both Trolanni did not quite blot out 
the quieter, more complex emotional radiation coming from Irisik. The Crextic's 
mind was beginning to suffer from the first stirrings of self-doubt.
For an instant Prilicla wondered if he should go in and join the conversation, 
then decided against it. A phrase used by Chief
Dietitian Gurronsevas back at the hospital came to him, regarding the 
preparation of food. He would let Irisik stew in its own juices for a while. He 
could feel growing uncertainty and a need to ask questions, but decided to wait 
for Irisik to voice them.
Keet left its litter and and moved quickly to the row of the Terragar 
casualties.
"There is something that Jasam and I must say to you," it began. "It is an 
apology for the way that our searchsuit defense systems caused you to be burned 
and lose limbs. We could not believe that anyone who looked like a druul could 
want only to help us, but we were wrong. We ask your forgiveness and, if and 
when we return to Trolann, we offer help with the replacement of the burned 
limbs. Our technology on the interfacing of organic and inorganic materials is 
advanced. Your metal limbs would be linked to the relevant nerve connections to 
produce the sensations of pressure, touch, and temperature you knew in the 
past, although possibly not with the former degree of sensitivity, and be 
visually indistinguishable from the missing ones. Your fellow officers on 
Rhabwar, who have had firsthand experience of our searchsuit technology, will 
confirm this. Unless you have psychological or religious objections to ..."
"We haven't," said one of the casualties.
"Could they be made four or five inches longer than the old ones?" asked 
another, and explained, "I've always wanted to be tall as well as handsome."
The third made a derogatory sound that did not translate, and gradually the 
conversation became increasingly general, serious, and animated as Keet, Jasam, 
and the Terragar casualties talked about their respective futures.
When Irisik tried to join in, it was pointedly ignored. Its emotional radiation, 
Prilicla noted with satisfaction, was revealing a strange mixture of growing 
indecision and increasing certainty.
"... I know that the druul are not nice people," one of the Terragar casualties 
was saying, "but the Federation won't..."
"Not nice?" Keet broke in. "They are vicious, cunning, implacable, depraved 
vermin who want only to kill and, if possible, eat, everyone and everything who 
is not a druul. And they have been known to eat their own casualties rather than 
waste time and resources in treating them. They should be wiped out, 
exterminated down to the last member of their merciless and murderous 
species."
"... As I was saying," the Earth-human went on, "the Federation will not 
instruct its Monitor Corps to exterminate a whole species just on your say-so, 
and they know that we wouldn't do it if they did. That would make us as 
uncivilized and savage as you say they are. Instead they will investigate the 
druul and"
"Maybe you have sympathy, a fellow feeling towards them," Jasam broke in, 
radiating sudden suspicion, "because they look so very much like you. People can 
give sympathy, kindness, and even affection towards pets or dolls or smaller 
editions of themselves. Until they turn vicious which, believe me, they will."
"I do believe you," said the other, "but we're talking about an intelligent 
species here. We have no right to destroy them. The Federation will subject them 
to a covert sociological and psychological assessment. If they are as blindly 
antisocial as you say, they will almost certainly be isolated on their home 
planet to survive as best they can, fight each other to mutual extinction, or 
demonstrate to us over a lengthy period that they have learned sense and are on 
the way to true civilization, in which case we would help them as we are 
planning to help you."
The two Trolanni were silent, angry, and disappointed, but their more subtle 
feelings were rendered unreadable because of the buildup of emotional radiation 
coming from Irisik. But it, too, remained silent as the Monitor Corps officer 
continued speaking.
"Your people will also be assessed," it went on, "but as a technologically 
advanced star-traveling species, that will be a formality. Over the past 
century we have discovered several planets, as fresh and clean and unpolluted as 
this one and without indigenous intelligent life, that would suit your 
requirements. Considering the relatively few Trolanni remaining on your dying 
home world, transportation for yourselves, and your personal possessions and 
technical support hardware, would be no problem... ."
Feelings of pride and enthusiasm suffused the words like a bright, emotional fog 
as it went on. "... We have Emperor-class capital shipstechnically, vessels of 
war although they haven't been used as such since the Etlan police action. Their 
beam weapons will clear large areas of ground for building and cultivation, and 
colonization transports and specialist officers to advise on moving your 
population to a new, clean world. We will help you while you are getting 
established, but not too much because taking over the responsibility completely 
would be psychologically undesirable. You might become overly dependent on us 
rather than independent. That's an important part of the Federation's 
first-contact philosophy. And you can forget about the druul. Unless they begin 
to show evidence of civilized behavior they won't be going anywhere."
"But wait," said Jasam, radiating sudden worry. "You're talking about moving a 
planetary population. You will need very big ships."
"Don't worry," said the other, "we have big ships."
While they had been speaking, the pressure of Irisik's emotional radiation had 
been building up to the point where angry words would be its only release. 
Prilicla knew to the split second when it would speak.
"You are talking and behaving as if I am not here," it said furiously. "It is 
not easy for me to say this, for I am a person of rank and influence among my 
fishing clan, but there is a possibility that I have misunderstood the 
situation and I wish to speak to all of you about that."
"They may not wish to speak to you," said Naydrad, breaking its long silence, 
"or even listen to you."
The Crextic glider pilot, who was still post-operatively debilitated from its 
recent major surgery but was otherwise recovering well, spoke for the first 
time.
Slowly and weakly it said, "Irisik is the mate of our clan's Krititkukik, our 
senior captain and fleet commodore. As such she is rarely placed in a position 
where it is necessary for her to apologize for anything, but she is trying to do 
so now. She is an independent, strong-willed, intelligent, and abrasive person 
who must be finding the process of apologizing very difficult."
"Cloud-walker," said Irisik sharply, "your tone lacks respect. Be quiet or, or 
I'll bite your head off."
"Promises," said the pilot softly.
Prilicla concurred. Judging by Irisik's emotional radiation it was finding it 
very difficult to apologize, but not impossible. Now was the time for him to 
rejoin them and, so far as the Crextic patients were concerned, start laying 
down Federation law and telling them the unpleasant truthpossibly more 
unpleasant than their earlier personal fear of being eatenabout their present 
situation. But the spider had come to a crucial decision, and from the dialogue 
that was developing and the accompanying emotional radiation, Prilicla knew what 
it was. He was flying slowly and happily into the recovery ward when the captain 
spoke urgently from the communicator.
"Doctor," it said, "the heavies have arrived. Three Monitor Corps cruisers, the 
cultural contact vessel Descartes and Sector Marshal Dermod's flagship 
Vespasian, no less. He has been appraised of our situation but says, 
regrettable as it is, that we must not risk jeopardizing the successful Trolanni 
contact by allowing them and our other casualties to be killed due to our 
bungled contact with the Crextic. The sector marshal says we must on no account 
sacrifice our own people and two members of an intelligent, star-traveling 
species. It says that it was a difficult decision but he had to make it. We are 
ordered to move all casualties to Rhabwar, warn off the spiders, and take off 
forthwith."
Prilicla's flight path wavered for a moment, then steadied as
he said, "Right now that would be very inconvenient, friend Fletcher. Please 
tell the sector marshal that our second contact with the Crextic is ongoing and 
at a delicate stage which must not be interrupted by a hasty evacuation, and 
remind it that this is predominantly a medical emergency, with all that 
implies."
"But, but you can't say that, dammit," the captain burst out. "Not to a sector 
marshal!"
"Be diplomatic," said Prilicla, resuming his flight.
CHAPTER 35
Prilicla flew into the recovery ward and hovered above and between the lines of 
patients. He was noticed but ignored. Considering the conversation that was 
taking place between Irisik and Keet he could live with the delay, for a while.
". .. It seems that I have been completely wrong in my assessment of this 
situation," Irisik was saying, "and when they learn about it the Crextic will be 
grateful for the healing that was done for us here. But these healers are 
strange creatures, not unfriendly but still frightening. I don't know how long 
it would take, if ever, for us to come to like them...."
"Dr. Prilicla," the captain broke in. "The sector marshal rejects your 
suggestion and orders an immediate return of the medical team and casualties to 
Rhabwar. We can warn the Crextic to move clear before taking off, and hope they 
heed the warning. I'm sorry, Doctor. Start evacuating your casualties at once."
"Friend Fletcher," said Prilicla, "please ask the ..." At that point one of his 
Educator tape donors, a straight-talking Kelgian, slipped suddenly to the 
forefront of his mind and he ended, "We've begun to make good progress here, so 
tell Sector Marshal Dermod to stay the hell out of my fur!"
"... You've said that your home world is poisoned and dying and that there 
aren't many Trolanni left on it," Irisik was saying. "Here there are many 
islands, particularly those close to the polar continents where high seas and 
treacherous currents make them dangerous for plant and animal cultivation but 
which you, with your greater knowledge and machines, could use. So why go to 
another and perhaps less suitable world when you would be welcomed here?
"You bear a closer physical resemblance to the Crextic than these others," it 
went on, "so that even the most intellectually timid among us would have no 
difficulty in accepting you as strange but helpful neighbors. You Trolanni would 
be too few in numbers to threaten us and your knowledge is too valuable for us 
to waste it by hurting you...."
"That," said one of the Terragar casualties, using one of its obscure 
Earth-human sayings, "would be like killing the geese that lay golden eggs."
Prilicla was well pleased at the way things were going, but it was a time to be 
tough and, to use another Earth-human expression, tell the Crextic a few home 
truths.
".. . If you have an ethical problem with this," Irisik continued, "as we would 
have if the positions were reversed, think of it as paying ground rent, or a 
simple exchange of knowledge for a peaceful and pleasant living space. In time 
we would learn fully to understand and trust each other, and in more time you 
could show us how to harvest the metals that you have said lie deep beneath our 
surface, and work them into machines which will enable the Crextic one day, as 
these others do, to walk the web between the stars...."
"Doctor!" the captain's voice broke in urgently. "Look at your ward repeater 
screen. All the Crextic vessels are launching their gliders and ground forces. 
Get your med team and casualties back to to Rhabwar. Now, Doctor."
Prilicla looked at the repeater screen which showed spiders pouring out of the 
nearer ships and forming up on the beach while their gliders were moving in 
thermal-seeking circles above the hot sand as they strove for height. He felt 
sure, but not very
sure, that the Crextic would wait until more force arrived and that an attack 
wasn't imminent.
"Friend Fletcher," he said, "if you've been listening you'll know that we are 
making good progress ..."
"Not to all of it," the captain broke in. "We're too busy here readying the ship 
for a hot blastoff. But everything said was and is being relayed to Vespasian. 
We've no time to retrieve the buildings and non-portable equipment, so just get 
your people out of there."
".. . and it would be a major crime to throw it away," Prilicla continued, as 
if the other had not spoken. "Neither, I feel sure, would it favorably impress 
our Trolanni friends if we were to burn all the nearby Crextic ships and many 
hundreds of sailors just to save the lives of a few patients and medical staff."
"So we are to be killed" Irisik began, its anger and disappointment 
outweighing its personal fear. "You lied to us."
"... You will now have realized, friend Fletcher, that the ward translator is on 
and our conversation is open," he said, then continued briskly. "Naydrad, use 
the robots to help you move the Trolanni and Earth-human casualties to Rhabwar. 
Please link my translator to the ship's external speaker system. The Crextic 
patients and I are going out and will try to talk some sense into their 
Krititkukik. Murchison, Danalta, set the other Crextic litters and restraints 
for remote control and quick release on my command, then assist Naydrad with 
the other patient transfers."
"No, sir," said Murchison, radiating feelings that were a strange combination of 
affection, respect, and downright mutiny. It glanced towards the shape-changer 
who twitched its upper body in assent, and added, "We are staying with you."
"As will I," said Keet.
He knew from the intensity of their emotional radiation that he could not make 
them change their minds. There were occasions, he thought gratefully, when 
insubordination had its place. It was obvious that the captain thought otherwise 
and was voicing its feelings without the usual verbal niceties.
"Are you losing your mind entirely, Doctor?" it said angrily. "And have you no 
control at all over your medical staff? Explain our situation to your spider 
patients, urge them to pass it on to their friends, and tell them that they will 
all die if they don't move away fast. And don't dare go outside. The meteorite 
shield has been withdrawn to support the launch system...."
Prilicla turned down the volume on his headset and addressed the Crextics.
"We have no intention of eating or harming any of you," he said while the irate 
voice of the captain muttered in the background, "and you have a choice. You 
are free to go with the other casualties to the safety of our ship. Or leave 
here now with me, to rejoin your friends and help me convince them that I am 
telling the truth. If we can't do that, then we and many hundreds of them will 
be burned to death.
"The next attack is about to begin so there isn't much time to stop it," he went 
on as he took control of the spider pilot's litter. "I am asking for an 
immediate meeting with your Kritit-kukik and will explain the situation to you 
as we move outside. ..."
Although the preparations for the attack were continuing, the Krititkukik came 
out to meet them without hesitation. It was a responsible commander, Irisik 
insisted, who preferred to win a battle with the minimum possible butcher's 
bill. But it was still at a distance when the pathologist drew his attention to 
a difference in its appearance. A tubular collar into which variously-colored 
twigs and vegetation had been woven was encircling its long, thin neck.
"It wasn't wearing that when I met it on its ship," said Murchison. "Is it an 
insignia of rank?"
"No," said Irisik.
The spider's emotional radiation was far from unpleasant but it was so intense, 
poignant, and deeply personal that it made Prilicla waver in flight. Similar 
feelings were reaching him from
the approaching Krititkukik. Considering the intimate nature of those feelings, 
he did not expect Irisik to elaborate, but it did.
"It is the Collar of First Mating," it said through a surge of emotion, "worn by 
the male as self-protection and as a compliment to his partner's sexual ardor 
which could and might be aroused to the point where the female loses control and 
bites off her mate's head. There have been no cases reported for many centuries, 
and now it is worn only twice. On the night of first mating as a promise of the 
life of loving to come, and when the life of one aged partner or the other is 
about to end in gratitude for the life and loving that has gone before."
The effect of its words on the females Murchison and Keet, and on the male 
subject of the discussion, Krititkukik, forced Prilicla to drop to the sand 
before he was forced to make an undignified crash-landing. Again, as he had done 
in the ward, he allowed Irisik and Keet, with a little help from the 
recuperating glider pilot and the other two Crextic casualties, to make the 
conversation run while he monitored the emotional radiation of all concerned.
The Krititkukik was a highly intelligent being whose credence was not won 
easily, but when it was an equally intelligent and much-loved life-mate who was 
leading the attack on the basis of all its hard-held beliefs, the battle, 
although lengthy, was lost from the start.
Finally it said, "Suppose I believe you, Irisik, which is what I would like to 
do; the sailors of the other Krititkukikii assembled on and around this island 
may not. They want to kill the strangers, no matter what the cost, to keep more 
of them from coming and eating our people. . .."
"You saw what happened to me when I crashed into their invisible shield," the 
glider pilot broke in. "They don't eat people, they make them well again. Look 
at what they did for me."
"We made the same mistake at first," Keet joined in, "when the strangers tried 
to help rescue us from our wrecked ship. But they healed my life-mate, who was 
in a much worse condition than your glider pilot, and now both of them will 
live. And we certainly don't want to eat spiders. Irisik has invited the few of 
my species who are left to join you on your beautiful, unspoiled world, and in 
return we will teach you, in the years or the centuries to come, how to leave 
it and walk the star web that connects it to the other worlds, in peace and 
prosperity...."
"Yes, yes," said the Krititkukik, its level of resistance dropping but not 
quite to zero. "Irisik and you and the tall, soft, lumpy one who escaped from my 
ship have already told me all of this, many times. But it is like a story told 
to please young children, full of good things that are not real. And like 
children you have tried to frighten us with threats of a great fire when your 
ship lifts into the sky if we do not behave. Why should we believe you? You have 
helped a few of my people, including my life-mate, and promised great things for 
the future, and threatened much death and devastation now when your great ship 
with its invisible shields rises into the sky, but the strangers face no 
punishment for not telling us the truth and risk nothing and . .."
"We risk our lives," said Prilicla, breaking in gently. He indicated the 
disturbance in the sand that had shown the surface limits of the meteorite 
shield and went on, "We no longer have protection. You can kill us now and we 
could do nothing to stop you. But if you don't call off your attack we will be 
burned to death with all of your people on this beach. Think about that, 
Krititkukik, and about the reasons we have given you for this risk we are 
taking, and believe what we say."
Prilicla could feel the other's growing uncertainty, but there was no indication 
of immediate hostile action being planned. He went on. "Why don't you test the 
truth of what I'm saying with your weapon?"
"Doctor, this is madness!" Fletcher's broke in. The other must have been 
shouting for its voice to sound so loud, considering the reduced gain on 
Prilicla's headset. "I'm going to pull you in with tractor beams before you get 
everyone killed. I mean all of you, including the Crextic casualtiesthat way we 
can save a few of them though they probably won't love us for it... ." Its tone, 
although still loud, softened a little. ". . . The transfer will be sudden, and 
will be very rough on you physically, Doctor, but you are, after all, heading 
back to the best hospital in the galaxy for treatment. ..."
It broke off again as a more authoritative but quieter voice too quiet for 
Prilicla to distinguish the individual wordsbroke in, then the captain went on. 
"Sir? But, but you can see that an attack is developing as we speak. I 
understand, sir. No action on my part unless expressly ordered by you."
Prilicla didn't ask for clarification because the situation around him was at 
too delicate a stage. He felt the sudden agitation of Keet and the medical-team 
members as the Krititkukik unlimbered its crossbow and loosed a single bolt, 
which flew through the intervening space unhindered until it clattered against 
the wall of the med station and fell onto the sand. The crossbow was replaced 
and it raised its speaking trumpet. First it spoke to the gliders circling above 
them, then to the sailors assembling on the beach. But this time their 
translators were online so that they could understand as well as hear everything 
it was saying.
All of the Crextic ground forces and gliders were being ordered to cease 
offensive actions and return without delay to their ships, with the exception of 
one aircraft which was instructed to gain altitude so that it could perform the 
signal aerobatic that would transmit the same message to the more distant ships 
and aircraft. The relief of the people all around bathed Prilicla in a bonfire 
glow of friendship and warmth, but again there was one exception.
"There is disagreement," the Krititkukik said. "More than a quarter of the 
Crextic assembled here are little more than pirates, violent, unsubtle people 
with whom we normally would have no dealings. But they are influencing the 
others. In an effort to convince them of your good feelings for all of the 
Crextic, I told them that your ship was defenseless, but that if they attacked 
and forced it to leave, it would kill many hundreds of us as it went. The 
cloud-walkers' signals are of necessity short, simple, and incapable of carrying 
closely reasoned arguments. This uncivilized element disbelieves me and they 
intend to press home their attack, very soon."
With its words the bright, warm emotional cloud of pleasure and relief coming 
from the people surrounding him congealed suddenly into a dark, icy cloud of 
fear and angry disappointment. For the first time in his life, Prilicla could 
think of nothing that he could say that would help relieve their emotional 
distress. Even though it must have heard the Kritikukik's words on Rhabwar's 
aural sensors, friend Fletcher, too, was silent or at a loss for words.
But the silence was not complete. There was a faint growling sound, so deep that 
was felt in the bones as well as being heard through the ears, that seemed to be 
coming from everywhere and nowhere. From the top of its shapeless body Danalta 
extruded an ear that resembled a fleshy dish-antenna, and shortly afterwards 
grew a hand with one upwardly-pointing digit. They followed its direction and 
looked up.
Vespasian was making a slow and increasingly thunderous approach.
The Monitor Corps' Emperor-class battleships were unable to land on a planetary 
surface because of the complex antennae, weapon mounts, and other structural 
projections sprouting from a hull so vast that, even at an altitude of several 
miles it looked like another shining metal island, except this island was 
floating on its four ravening underlets. Looking tiny beside the vast capital 
ship, its escort of three cruisers traced wide, fiery circles around it, their 
thunder sounding falsetto by comparison.
Ponderously avoiding the spider ships in the area, Vespasian closed on the bay 
and dropped to less than one thousand meters' altitude, its underlets exploding 
the surface of the sea into dazzling white clouds of steam that boiled upwards 
to almost ob-
scure its vast underside and making it seem that it was riding on self-generated 
clouds.
For a few moments it hung there, the incredibly loud, hissing thunder making it 
impossible for anyone to hear themselves or anyone else speak. Then it withdrew, 
again avoiding the spider ships in the area as it began a rapid ascent 
spacewards, accompanied by its cruiser escorts. When the noise reduced to 
something less than deafening, a new voice sounded over Rhabwars external 
speakers.
It said, "Dr. Prilicla, Sector Marshal Dermod. I have found that a prior show of 
police force can often avert a riot by forcing the rioters to calm down and see 
sense. I am now returning my ships to orbit and withdrawing their sound 
pollution so as to give everyone down there a chance to talk together which, 
with your help and a little more of your creative insubordination, I'm sure they 
will.
"You have done very well, Dr. Prilicla," it ended. "Very well indeed."
CHAPTER 36
By the evening of the following day, the majority of the Crextic vessels had 
withdrawn from the island to return to their various homelands, the exceptions 
being the flagships of the Kri-titkukikii from every clan fleet, and their 
advisors. During the days and weeks that followed, many gliders were continually 
airborne, flying at the cold, upper limits of their operational capability as 
they signaled the results of the talks that were going on in what had been the 
medical station, to the other relay gliders farther afield.
There was plenty going on, although the negotiations between the Federation's 
cultural-contact specialists from Descartes and the Crextic representativesbut 
strangely, not with the Tro-lanni, whom the spiders considered their new 
friendsas often as not, resembled non-violent riots. But one of Sector Marshal 
Dermod's cruisers kept station on the island, maintaining a distance and 
altitude that would not inconvenience the signaling gliders.
Only once, when it seemed that the negotiations might degenerate into physical 
violence, did the sector marshal order it to make a low pass over the medical 
station, to remind anyone who might be thinking of using muscle instead of mind, 
where the real strength lay. Apart from the horrendous noise of its passage, no 
spider injuries were sustained, and the Monitor Corps negotiators pointedly 
ignored the incident, but thereafter the talking continued more peaceably.
For the ensuing three weeks Prilicla spent his every waking moment with them, 
including the times when he had to eat, a process which startled but did not 
disgust the spiders. When the cultural-contact specialists from Descartes 
expertly plied their tri-di projections to illustrate and explain in detail the 
organization and political ramifications of the Galactic Federation to the 
Crexticthe two Trolanni present had already seen most of itthe spiders' 
feelings reflected in turn incredulity, wonder, fear, and distrust. By 
pinpointing the individual emotional radiation of the person concerned, he was 
able to subtly guide the contact specialist into a conversational area that the 
other found more reassuring.
Captain Fletcher was also content because a cargo shuttle, too small to do more 
than scorch an insignificant area of sand on the beach, was plying between the 
orbiting Vespasian and Rhabwar, carrying with the relays of cultural-contact 
specialists the fuel cells and organic and engineering consumables that would 
shortly result in a virtual refit and resupply of its beloved ambulance ship so 
that it could again take off with a pressor-beam assist and not burn up half the 
island as it left.
Then the day came when Prilicla knew that their work on the spider planet was 
complete, because the supply shuttle touched down with no supplies on board 
since it carried instead no less a personage than Sector Marshal Dermod.
The dark green Monitor Corps uniform with its insignia of rank and quietly 
impressive ribbons meant nothing to the Trolanni and Crextic gathered in what 
had been the station's recovery ward, but the habit of command in its manner 
said all that was necessary about it as a persona person who meant exactly what 
it said.
"My warmest compliments to everyone here who has been involved in successfully 
concluding this epoch-making agreement between three different intelligent 
species," it said. "Not only has there been it a first contact between the 
Federation and the Trolanni, but a second contact with ourselves and the 
Crextic, and another possible future contact with the druul-----"
It looked along the line of joined litters which served as a conference table 
and raised a hand to quell an outburst from Keet and Jasam, then went on. "... I 
know that you have already discussed this matter with my subordinate officers 
and members of the medical team, but I am required to restate our position 
officially. Federation law forbids us to exterminate any intelligent species, 
regardless of the past and present evidence of their concerted violence and 
antisocial behavior towards others. Instead, a rigorous and lengthy 
psychological and sociological assessment will be conducted regarding the 
possibility of their reeducation. Should the findings go against them and, as 
our Trolanni friends have insisted, they turn out to be nothing but intelligent 
and amoral animals, they will not be exterminated. Instead their world will be 
placed under Federation Interdict until they either become civilized, which 
seems improbable, or they exterminate themselves.
"The Trolanni currently living among them," it went one, "will be evacuated and 
transferred, at the invitation of the Crextic, to this planet to share a part 
of it with them, and to cooperate in the future to the benefit of both species.
"Such an event as this has no precedent in the history of the Federation," 
Dermod continued, glancing up at the hovering Prilicla, "and we were worried in 
case it did not succeed and we had the druul-Trolanni conflict repeat itself 
here. But my em-pathic advisor assures me that the Crextic and Trolanni 
feelings, based as they are on mutual help and future scientific and commercial 
advantages, are honest and will be more long-lasting than any agreement based on 
empty diplomacies. As a precaution we will observe the situation from orbit. If 
the cultural contact fails, we will move the Trolanni to another planet which 
has no sapient life-forms to oppose their resettlement, but I do not foresee 
that
happening because this is a contact that the Crextic and the Trolanni both want 
and need. At no time will we interfere in disputes which you are plainly capable 
of solving yourselves, nor will we give unwanted technical help, because 
psychologically that would be bad for both species. In time, perhaps not too 
long a time as progressing cultures go, I can foresee the Trolanni and the 
Crextic being welcomed into the Galactic Federation.
"But our more immediate plan," it went on briskly, "is to take Jasam and its 
searchsuit back to Trolann to explain the situation to its people, advise them 
regarding the evacuation, and begin instructing our scientists regarding the 
organic-cybernetic interface and the lifesuit technology they use for 
self-defense. This will have important applications far beyond their use as 
fully-sensitive limbs for amputees. Meanwhile Keet has elected to remain here 
with Irisik to prepare everyone concerned for the arrival of the first Trolanni 
evacuees. The medical station will be left here for their use as will the 
remains of Terragar. Both will be a constant reminder of the future that lies 
ahead for both species.
"Rhabwar," it added, looking at Prilicla and then Captain Fletcher, "will return 
to Sector General when convenient."
"Thank you, friend Dermod," said Prilicla.
"Doctor!" the captain said, its face deepening in color and its emotional 
radiation reflecting shock and embarrassment. "You don't talk that way to a, to 
a sector marshal!" To its superior officer, it went on quickly, "Please excuse 
Dr. Prilicla, sir, it sometimes takes friendly informality to excess. And yes, 
sir, we can leave within the hour."
"A degree of informality is acceptable," said the sector marshal, its eyes 
turning towards Prilicla, "especially from someone who has achieved so much 
here. I feel no insult at your mode of address, little friend, and your empathic 
faculty is already telling you that, among other things...."
There was an unusual feeling of warmth and expectancy emanating from the sector 
marshal that was characteristic of a
pleasure soon to be shared. It showed its teeth in the grimace Earth-humans 
called a smile.
". . . Besides," it went on, "just before leaving for this meeting I received a 
signal from Administrator Braithwaite at the hospital to say that you have been 
appointed, or, more precisely, you have been elected unanimously to the rank of 
Diagnostician. My warmest congratulations, friend Prilicla."
To Captain Fletcher it added dryly, "As I recall them, my words were 'when 
convenient,' not 'as soon as possible.' One does not give orders to a Sector 
General Diagnostician."
 
 
      The Classification System
      by Gary Louie
       
      James White's Sector General stories used a unique four letter 
      classification system that helped describe the species quickly and 
      effectivly, as one would require when the hospitol is a multi species 
      enviroment. 
      Gary Louie was working on a James White concordance. As part of that he 
      completed a classification system, for the sector general series which 
      covers all characters up to Final Diagnosis. 
      This article appeared in the White Papers. Unfortunatly Gary Louie passed 
      away, before the concordance was completed.
       
            Classification:AACL
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Crepellian Pet No Individual Names Known
            A non-intelligent pet kept by AMSOs. It has six python-like ten-tacles which poke though seals in the cloudy plastic of its suit. The tentacles are each at least twenty feet long and tipped with a horny substance which must be steel-hard.
             
            Classification:AACP 
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown No Individual Names Known
            A race whose remote ancestors were a species of mobile vegetable. They are slow moving, but the carbon dioxide tanks which they wear seem to be the only protection they need. AACPs do not eat in the normal manner but plant themselves in specially prepared soil during their sleep period, and absorb nutriment in that way.
             
            Classification:AMSL
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Creppelian, Crepellian
            Individuals:Nurse Towan, Diagnostician Vosan
            A species of water breathing octopoids.
             
            Classification:AMSO
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            A larger life-form, in the habit of keeping non-intelligent AACL-type creatures as pets.
             
            Classification:AUGL
            Planet:Chalderescol IT
            Species:Chaldor, Chalder
            Individuals:Patient AUGL-1 13, Patient AUGL-1 16, Patient AUGL-122, Patient AUGL-126, Patient AUGL-187, Patient AUGL-193, Patient AUGL-211, Patient AUGL-218, Patient AUGL-22 1, Patient AUGL-233, 
            Muromeshomon
            The denizens of Chalderescol, an armored fish-like species are water-breathers who can not live in any other medium for more than a few seconds. A heavily plated and scaled being, slightly re-sembling a forty-foot long armour-plated crocodile, except that instead of legs there is an apparently haphazard arrangement of stubby fins, and a heavy knife-edged tail. A fringe of ribbon-like tentacles encircles its middle, projecting through some of the only openings visible in its organic armor. Chaldors have six rows of teeth in an over-large mouth. The Chalders are one of the frw in-telligent species whose personal names are used only between mates, members of the immediate family, or very special friends.
             
            Classification:BLSU
            Planet:Groalter
            Species:Groalterri
            Individual:Hellishomar the Cutter
            The Groalterri overall body configuration is that of a squat octopoid with short, thick tentacular limbs. Its central torso and head seem disproportionately large. The eight limbs terminate alternately in four sets of claws (that will with maturity evolve into manipula-tory digits) and four flat, sharp-edged, osseous blades. The organ of speech and hearing is centered above the four heavily lidded eye that are equally spaced around the cranium. A macrospecies, there is an element of risk involved to any life-form of more or less nor-mal body mass which approaches it too closely.
             
            Classification:BRLH
            Planet:Tarla
            Species:Tarlan
            Individuals:Surgeon-Captain/Trainee/Padre Lioren, Sedith and 
            Wrethrin the Healers
            Tarlans are an erect quadrupedal life-form with its for short-legs supporting a tapering, cone-shaped body. Four long, multi-jointed, medial arms for heavy lifting and handling sprout from waist-level. Another four that are suited for more delicate work encircle the base of the neck. Equally spaced around the head are four eyes whose stalks are capable of independent motion. Tarlans have very large teeth. An adult Tarlan stands eight feet tall.
             
            Classification:CLCH
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            Apparent typographical error for Classification CLHG.
             
            Classification:CLHG
            Planet:Drambo
            Species:Roller
            Individuals:Camsaug, Surreshun
            The Rollers resemble animated donuts rolling on their outer edge, with manipulatory appendages in the form of a fringe ofshort ten-tacles sprouting from the inner circumference between the series of gill mouths and eyes. Its visual equipment must operate like a coeleostat since the contents of its field of vision are constantly rotating. The Rollers must roll to stay alive-there is an ingenious method of shifting its center of gravity while keeping itself upright by partially inflating the section of its body which is on top at any given moment. The continual rolling causes blood to circulate-it uses a form of gravity feed system instead of a muscular pump. The species reproduce hermaphroditically. Each parent after mating grows twin offspring, one on each side of its bodies like continu-ous blisters encircling the side walls of a tire. Injury, disease or the mental confusion immediately following birth could cause the parent to lose balance, roll on to its side, stop and die. The points where the children eventually detach themselves from their par-ents remain very sensitive areas to both generations and their posi-tions are governed by hereditary factors. The result is that any close blood relation trying to make mating contact causes itself and the other being considerable pain. The rollers really do hate their fathers and every other relative. The species is water-breathing with a warm-blooded oxygen-based metabolism. The lifesupport mechanism for the species is physically complicated, to allow the occupant to roll naturally within it. The concept of modesty is com-pletely alien to this race. This species does not know the meaning of sleep. There is no such thing as sleeping, pretending to be dead or unconsciousness. A Roller is either moving and alive or still and dead.
             
            Classification:CLSR
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            Apparent typographical error for Classification CPSD.
             
            Classification:CPSD
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:The Blind Ones
            No Individual Names Known
            These beings are roughly circular, just over a meter in diameter and, in cross section, a slim oval flattened slightly on the under-side. In shape they very much resemble their ship, except that the ship does not have a long, thin horn or sting projecting aft or a wide, narrow slit on the opposite side which is obviously a mouth. The upper lip of the mouth is wider and thicker than the lower, and can be curled over the lower lip, apparently sealing the mout shut. The beings are covered, on their upper and lower surfaces and around the rim, by some kind of organic stubble which varies in thickness from pin-size to the width of a small finger. The stubble on the underside is much coarser than that on the upper surface, and it is plain that parts of it are designed for ambulation. The Blind Ones evolved underground, and have no organs for sight. They formed an alliance with the Protectors of the Unborn, each species providing something that other lacked.
             
            Classification:CRLT
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            Senior Physician Conway was unable to classi~ this life-form with complete certainty. The initial analysis was performed on a cadaver, an independent portion of a larger composite being. The compos-ite is a warm-blooded oxygen breather with the type of basic me-tabolism associated with the physiological grouping CRLT. Even a segment is massive, measuring approximately twenty meters in length and three meters in diameter, excluding projecting append-ages. Physically it resembles the DBLF Kelgian life-form, but it is many times larger and possesses a leathery tegument rather than the silver fur of the Kelgians. Like the DBLF's it is multipedal, but the manipulatory appendages are positioned in a single row along the back. There are twenty-one of these dorsal limbs, all showing evidence of early evolutionary specialization. Six of them are long, heavy, and claw-tipped and are obviously evolved for defense since the being is a herbivore. The other fifteen are in five groups of three, spaced between the six heavier tentacles, which terminate in four digits, two of which are opposable. These thinner limbs are manipulatory appendages originally evolved for gathering and trans-ferring food \to the mouths-three on each flank opening into three stomachs. Two additional orifices on each side open into a very large and complex lung. The structure inside these breathing ori-fices suggests that expelled air could be interrupted and modulated to produce intelligence-bearing sounds. On the underside are three openings used for the elimination of wastes. The mechanism of reproduction is unclear and the specimen shows evidence of p05-sessing both male and female genitalia on the forward and rear extremities respectively The brain, if it is a brain, takes the form of a cable of nerve ganglia with localized swellings in three places, running longitudinally through the cadaver like a central core. There is another and much thinner nerve cable running parallel to the thicker core, but below it and about twenty-five centimeters from the underside. Positioned close to each extremity are two sets of three eyes. Two are mounted dorsally and two on each of the forward and rear flanks. They are recessed but capable of limited extension; together they give the being complete and continuous vision vertically and horizontally. The type and positioning of the visual equipment and appendages suggest that it evolved on a very unfriendly world. The tentative Classification is an incomplete CRLT
             
            Classification:DBDG
            Planets:Earth, Gregory (Colony)
            Species:Earth-human, Gregorian
            Individuals:Theologian Augustine, Lieutenant Braithwaite, 
            Sur-geon-Lieutenant Brenner, Corpsman Briggs, Lieutenant Briggs, Captain Chaplain Bryson, Lieutenant Carrington, Lieutenant Chen, Major Chiang, Clarke, Lieutenant Clifton, Junior Intern/Senior PhysicianlDiagnostician-in-Charge of Surgery Peter Conway, Sergeant Davis, Major/Colonel Jonathan Dermod, Fleet Commander Dermod, Lieutenant Dodds, Lieutenant Dowling, Major-Captain Fletcher, Fox, Trainee Hadley, Harmon, Lieuten-ant Haslam, Patient Hewlitt, Tailor George L Hewlitt, Mrs. George L Hewlitt, Captain Hokasuri, Major Holyrod, OR Nurse Hudson, Lieutenant-General Lister, MacEwan, Major Madden, Captain Mallon, Senior Physician/Diagnostician/Patient Mannen/Man non, Nurse/Pathologist Murchison, Major Nelson, Mister/Major/Chief Psychologist O'Mara, Captain Sigvard Nyberg, Doctor Pelling, General Prentiss, Reviora, Lieutenant-Colonel Simmons, Colonel Skempton, Surgeon-Lieutenant/Major Stillman, Lieutenant-Sur-geon Sutherland, Corpsman Timmins, Lieutenant Wainright, Waring, Corpsman/Colonel-Captain Williamson
            Probable Individuals:Lieutenant Carmody, Lieutenant Carson, Section Chief Caxton, Major Colinson, Major Craythorne, Major Edwards, Doctor Hamilton, Dietician-in-ChiefKW Hardin, Lieu-tenant Harrison, Lieutenant Hendricks, Kellerman, Colonel Okaussie, Captain Stillson, Captain Summerfield, TrooperTeirnan, Surgeon-Captain Telford
            This species shows their teeth in a silent snarl when displaying amusement or friendship and make an unpleasant barking sound that denotes amusement. The sound, called laughing, in most cases a psychophysical mechanism for the release of minor degrees of tension. An Earth-human laughs because of sudden relief from worry or fear, or to express scorn or disbelief or sarcasm, or in response to words or a situation that is ridiculous, illogical or funny, or out of politeness when the situation or words are not funny but the person responsible is of high rank. The Earth-human voice is reputed to be one of the most versatile instruments in the Galaxy. The Earth-human DBDGs are the only race in the Galactic Federation with a nudity taboo, and one of the very few member species with an aversion to making love in public. The Earth-human DBDGs make up the majority of the Monitor Corps forces.
             
            Classification:DBDG
            Planets:Etlan Empire, Central World (Capital), Imperial Etla 
            (Capital), Etla, Etla the Sick (Colony)
            Species:Etlan, Imperial
            Individuals:Heraltnor, Imperial Representative Teltrenn
            The physiology of the citizens of the Empire is the same as the population of their colony Etla. The physiological resemblance is so close to Earth-human DBDGs that no other disguise other than native language and dress is needed. There are theories about a prehistoric colonization program by common, star-travelling an-cestors. Attempts at procreation between Earth-human DBDGs and Etlans have been unsuccessful.
             
            Classification:DBDG
            Planet:Nidia
            Species:Nidian
            Individuals:Chief of Procurement Creon-Emesh, Senior Physi-cian and Tutor Cresk-Sar, Surgeon-Lieutenant Dracht-Yur, Lieu-tenant-Colonel Dragh-Nin, Senior Physician Lesk-Murog, Senior Food Technician Sarnyagh-Sa, Yoragh-Kar
            Probable Individual:Surgeon-Lieutenant Krack-Yar
            The Nidians have seven-fingered hands, stand only four feet tall. They have a thick red fur coat, and look like a very cuddly teddy-bear.
             
            Classification:DBDG
            Planet:Orligia
            Species:Orlig, Orligian
            Individuals:Grawlya-Ki/Grulyaw~Ki, Surgeon-Lieutenant Krach-Yul, 
            Major Sachan-Li, Colonel Shech-Rar, Surgeon-Lieutenant Turragh-Mar
            Like the neighboring Nidians, Orligians resemble an Earth-human child's first non-adult friend's teddy bear.
             
            Classification:DBLF
            Planet:Ia
            Species:Ian (pre-adolescent)
            No Individual Narnes Known
            The being appears ring-shaped, rather like a large balloon tire. Overall diameter of the ring is about nine feet, with the thickness between two and three feet. The tegument is smooth, shiny and grey in color where it is not covered with a thick, brownish incrustation. The brown stuff, which covers more than half of the total skin area, looks cancerous, but may be some type of natural camouflage. There are five pairs of limbs, and no evidence ofspecial-ization. No visual organs or means of ingestion can be seen. The being isn't a doughnut, but possesses a fairly normal anatomy of the DBLF type~a cylindrical, lightly-boned body with heavy musculature. The being is not ring-shaped, but gives that impression because for some reason, known best to itself, it has been trying to swallow its tail. Senior Physician Conway, convinced all along that the patient is undergoing a natural metamorphosis, observes that the new patient, after the process is complete, is of classification GKNM.
             
            Classification:DBLF
            Planet:Kelgia
            Species:Kelgian
            Individuals:Patient Henredth, Senior Physician Karthad, Charge Nurse Kursedd, Diagnostician Kursedth, Patient Morredeth, Charge Nurse Naydrad, Fleet Commander Roonardth, Charge Nurse Segroth, Diagnostician Suggrod, Student Nurse Tarsedth, Diagnostician Towan, Senior Physician Yarrence
            Probable Individual:Charge Nurse Kursenneth
            Kelgians are warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing, multipedal, and with a long, flexible cylindrical body covered overall by highly mobile, silvery fur. The Kelgian forelimbs have three digits. There are twenty sets of short, thin, and not heavily muscled walking limbs. The feet, which have no toenails or other terminations, are like small, hard sponges.The fur moves continually in slow ripples from the conical head right down to the tail. These are completely involuntary movements triggered by its emotional reactions to outside stimuli. The evolutionary reasons for this mechanism are not clearly understood, not even by the Kelgians themselves, but it is generally believed that the emotionally expressive fur complements the Kelgian vocal equipment, which lacks emotional flex-ibility of tone.The movements of the fur make it absolutely clear to another Kelgian-what a Kelgian feels about the subject under discussion. As a result they always say exactly what they mean because what they think is plainly obvious-at least to another Kelgian.They can not do otherwise. Kelgians have an intense aver-sion towards any surgical procedure which would damage or disfigure its most treasured possession, its furs. To a Kelgian the removal of a strip or patch of fur, which in their species represents a means of communication equal to the spoken word, is a personal tragedy which all too often results in permanent psychological damage. A Kelgian's fur does not grow again and one whose pelt is damaged can rarely find a mate because it is unable to fully display its feelings. Kelgians are very close to Earth-humans in both basic metabolism and temperament. Except for the thinwalled, narrow casing which houses the brain, the DBLF species has no boney structure. Their bodies are composed of an outer cylinder of mus-culature which, in addition to be being its primary means of loco-motion, serves to protect the vital organs within it. To the mind of a being more generously reinforced with bones, this protection is far from adequate. Another severe disadvantage in the event of in-jury is its complex and extremely vulnerable circulation system; the blood-supply network which has to feed the tremendous bands of muscle encircling its body runs close under the skin, as does the nerve network that controls the mobile fur. The thick fur of the pelt gives some protection here, but not against chunks of jagged-edged, flying metal. An injury which many other species would consider superficial could cause a DBLF to bleed to death in minutes. Kelgians are herbivorous.
             
            Classification:DBPK
            Planet:Dwerla
            Species:Dwerlan
            No Individual Names Known
            A warm-blooded oxygen-breathing herbivore that does not walk upright. Judging by the shape of the spacesuits, the beings are flattened cylinders about six feet long with four sets of manipulatory appendages behind a conical section which is probably the head, and another four locomotor appendages. Apart from the smaller size and number of appendages, the beings physically resemble the Kelgian race. The pointed, fox-like head and the thick, broad-striped coat make it look like a furry, short-legged zebra with an enormous tail. These beings seem not to possess natural weapons of offrnce or defense, or any signs of having had any in the past. Even their limbs are not built for speed, so they can not run from danger. The set used for walking are too short and are padded, while the fotward set are more slender, less well-muscled and end in four highly flexible digits which don't possess so much as a fingernail among them. There are the fur markings, of course, but it is rare that a life-form rises to the top of its evolutionary tree by camouflage alone, or by being nice and cuddly. The species has two sexes, male and female, and the reproductive system seems relatively normal. Both sexes use a water soluble dye to enhance artificially the bands of color on their body fur clearly the dyes are for cosmetic reasons. The immature do not use dyes, but use a brownish pigment on a bare patch above the tail.
             
            Classification:DCNF
            Planet:Sommaradva
            Species:Sommaradvan
            Individual:Trainee Cha Th rat
            Four Ambulatory limbs; Four waist-level heavy manipulators; and a set of manipulators for food provisions and fine work encircling the neck. This being has two stomachs. Sommaradvan society is stratified into three levels~serviles, warriors, and rulers~which strictly govern how an individual acts within the society.
             
            Classification:DCSL
            Planet:Cromsag
            Species:Cromsaggar
            No Individual Names Known
            This species has three sets of limbs: two ambulators, two medial heavy manipulators, and two more at neck level for eating and to perform more delicate work. It has a cranium covered by thick, blue fur that continues in a narrow strip along the spine to the vestigial tail.
             
            Classification:DHCG
            Planet:Wemar
            Species:Wem
            Individuals:First Hunter Creethar, Hunter Druuth, Youth Evemth, 
            First Cook Remrath, First Teacher Tawsar
            The Wem life-form is a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species with an adult body mass just under three times that of an Earth-human and, since Wermar's surface gravity is one point three eight standard G's, a healthy specimen is proportionately well-muscled. It resembles the rare Earth beast called a kangaroo. The differences are that the head is larger and fitted with a really ferocious set of teeth; each of the two short forelimbs terminate in six-fingered hands possessing two opposable thumbs, and the tail is more massive and tapered to a wide, flat triangular tip composed of immobile osseous material enclosed by a thick, muscular sheath. The flattening at the end of tail serves a threefold purpose: as its principal natural weapon, as an emergency method of fast locomotion while hunting or being hunted, and as a means of transporting infant Wem who are too small to walk. The Wem hunt by adopting an awkward, almost ridiculous stance with their forelimbs tightly folded, their chins touching the ground, and their long legs spread so as to allow the tail to curve sharply downwards and forwards between the limbs so that the flat tip is at their center of balance. When the tail is straightened suddenly to full extension, it acts as a powerful third leg ca-pable of hurling the Wem forward for a distance of five or six body lengths. If the hunter does not land on top of its prey, kicking the creature senseless with the feet before disabling it with a deep bite through the cervical vertebrae and underlying nerve trunks, it pivots rapidly on one leg so that the flattened edge of the tail strikes its victim like a blunt, organic axe. While the tail is highly flexible where downward and forward movement is concerned, it cannot be elevated above the horizontal line of the spinal column.The back and upper flanks are, therefore, the Wem's only body areas that are vulnerable to attack by natural enemies, who must also possess the element of surprise if they are not to become the victim.
             
            Classification:DRVJ
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:Doctor Yeppha
            Planet:Unknown
            A small, tripedal, fragile being. From the furry dome of its head there sprout singly and in small clusters, at least twenty eyes.
             
            Classification:DTRC
            Species:Rhum
            Planet:Unknown
            Individual:Crelyarrel
            Flat, roughly circular beings, dark gray and wrinkled on one surface, and with a paler, mottled appearance on the other, smooth, surface. The beings attach to their FGHJ hosts with thick tendrils growing from the edge of the disk. The tendrils penetrate into their FGHJ hosts' spinal columns and rear craniums. The DTRCs have their own special needs that in no way resemble those of their hosts, whose animal habits and undirected behavior are highly repugnant to them. It is vital to the DTRCs continued mental well-being that the masters escape periodically from their hosts to lead their own lives~usually during the hours of darkness when the tools are no longer in use and can be quartered where they can not harm themselves.
             
            Classification:DTSB
            Planet:Traltha
            Species:Tralthan
            No Individual Names Known
            Apparent typographical error for Classification OTSB.
             
            Classification:EGCL
            Planet:Duwetz
            Species:Dewatti
            No Individual Names Known
            A warm-blooded, oyxgen-breathing lifeform of approximately twice the body weight of an adult Earth-human. Visually it resembles an outsize snail with a high, conical shell which is pierced around the tip where its four extensible eyes are located. Equally spaced around the base of the shell are eight triangular slots from which project the manipulatory appendages. The carapace rests on a thick, circular pad of muscle which is the locomotor system. Around the circumference of the pad are a number of fleshy projections, hollows and slits associated with its systems of ingestion, respiration, elimination, reproduction, and nonvisual sensors. The EGCLs are organic empaths. They are organic transmitters, reflectors and focusers and magnifiers of their own feelings and those of the beings around them. The faculty has evolved to the stage where they have no conscious control over the process.
             
            Classification:ELNT
            Planet:Melf Four
            Species:Melfan
            Individuals:Maintenance Technician Dremon, Senior Physician Edanelt, Diagnostician Ergandhir, Patient Kennonalt, Patient KIetilt, Maintenance Technician Kiedath, Nurse Lontallet, Senior Physician Medalont, Senreth
            Melfans are large, low slung crab-like crustaceans. The six thin, bony, tubular, multi-jointed legs project from slits where the bony carapace and underside join. The legs and all of the body are exoskeletal. The head has large, protruding, vertically-lidded eyes, enormous mandibles, and pincers projecting forward from the place where ears should be. Two long, thin and fragile feelers grow from the sides of the mouth. The species is amphibious.
             
            Classification:EPLA
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:Lonvellin
            Apparent typographical error for Classification EPLH.
             
            Classification:EPLH
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:Lonvellin
            The being is large, about one thousand pounds mass, and resembles a giant, upright pear. Five thick, tentacular appendages grow from the narrow head section and a heavy apron of muscle at its base gives evidence of a snaillike, although not necessarily slow, method of locomotion. The being is warm-blooded and has fairly normal gravity requirements. Five large mouths are situated below the root of each tentacle, four being plentifully supplied with teeth and the fifth housing the vocal apparatus. The tentacles themselves show a high degree of specialization at their extremities: three of them are plainly manipulatory, one bears the patient's visual equipment, and the remaining member terminates in a horn-tipped, boney mace. The head is featureless, being simply an osseous dome housing the brain. The cranium is pierced at regular intervals for visual, aural and olfactory sensors. Their life-span, lengthy to begin with, is artificially extended. Because they have tremendous minds, they have plenty of time, but they constantly have to fight against boredom. Because part of the price of such longevity is an evergrowing fear of death, they need to have their own personal physicians no doubt the most efficient practitioners of medicine known to them-constantly in attendance.
             
            Classification:FGHJ
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            The being has six limbs, four legs and two arms, all very heavily muscled, and is hairless except for a narrow band of stiff bristles running from the top of the head along the spine to the tail, which seems to have been surgically shortened at an early age. The body configuration is a thick cylinder of uniform girth between the fore and rear legs, but the forward torso narrows towards the shoulders and is carried erect. The neck is very thick and the head small. There are two eyes, recessed and looking forward, a mouth with very large teeth, and other openings that are probably aural or olfactory sense organs. The legs terminate in large, reddish-brown hooves. Each hoof has four digits and does not appear particularly dexterous. This creature serves as a host to beings of Classification DTRC.
             
            Classification:FGLI
            Planet:Traltha
            Species:Tralthan
            Individuals:Patient Cossunallen, Crajarron, Chief Dietitian Gurronsevas, Patient Horrantor, Senior Physician Hossantir, Surriltor, Senior Diagnostician-in-Charge of Pathology Thorn-nastor
            A massive entity with an osseous dome housing its brain, six elephantine feet connected to its triple massive shoulders, and four extensible eyes on an immobile head. Its six stubby legs normally give the Tralthan species such a stable base they frequently go to sleep standing up. Even healthy Tralthans have great difficulty getting up again if they fall onto their sides. Tralthans must not be rolled onto their backs under normal gravity conditions since this causes organic displacement which would increase their respira-tory difficulties. Standard gravity at Sector General is just over half Tralthan normal. Tralthans are vegetarians.
             
            Classification:FOKT
            Planet:Goglesk
            Species:Gogleskan
            Individuals:Healer '(hone and child
            The Gogleskan FOKT resembles a large, dumpy cactuslike plant whose spikes and hair are richly colored in a pattern which seems less random the more you look at it. A faint smell comes from the entity, a combination of musk and peppermint. The mass of un-ruly hair and spikes covering its erect, ovoid body are less irregular in their size and placing than is at first apparent. The body hair has mobility, though not the high degree of flexibility and rapid mobility of the Kelgian fur, and the spikes, some of which are extremely flexible and grouped together to form a digital cluster, give evidence of specialization. The other spikes are longer and stiffer, and some of them seem to be partially atrophied, as if they were evolved for natural defense, but the reason for their presence has long since gone. There are also a number of long, pale tendrils lying amid the multicolored hair covering the cranial area, used for contact telepathy. Its voice seems to come from a number of small, vertical breathing orifices which encircles its waist. The being sits on a flat, muscular pad, and it has legs as well. These members are stubby and concertina-like, and when the four of them are in use they increase the height of the being by several inches. The being al50 has two additional eyes at the back of its head~obviously this species has had to be very watchful in prehistoric times.
             
            Classification:FROB
            Planet:Hudlar
            Species:Hudlar, Hudlarian
            Individuals:Patient FROB-3, Patient FROB-lO, Patient FROB-18, Patient FROB-43, Patient FROB-1 132, Trainee FROB-61, Trainee FROB-73, Senior Physician Garoth, Infant Patient Metiglesh
            Hudlars are blocky, pear-shaped beings whose home planet pulls four Earth gravities and has a high-density atmosphere so rich in suspended animal and vegetable nutrients that it resembles thick soup. Although the FROB lifeform is warm-blooded and techni-cally an oxygen-breather, it can go for long periods without air if its food supply, which it absorbs directly through its thick but highly porous tegument, is adequate. Hudlars are massive six legged beings. Each leg is an immensely strong tapering tentacle, which terminates in a cluster of flexible digits, curled inward so that the weight is born on heavy knuckles and the fingers remain clear of the floor. The two lidless, recessed eyes are protected by hard, transparent and featureless casings. Hudlars communicate using a speaking membrane, which grows like a cock's comb from the top of the head. The speaking membrane also serves as a sound sensor. The skin resembles a seamless covering of flexible armor in appearance and texture. Food is ingested through organs of absorption that cover both flanks and the wastes are eliminated by a similar mechanism on the underside. Both systems are under voluntary control. Because of the physiological necessity for avoiding further sexual contact with its life-mate, a gravid Hudlar female changes gradually into male mode and, concurrently, its life-mate slowly becomes female. A Hudlar year after partuition the changes to both are complete.The Hudlar FROBs are acknowledged to be, physically, strongest life-forms of the Galactic Federation and to have the least-pervious body tegument. Contact with chlorine is instantly lethal to them. Hudlar blood is yellow and circulates under great pressure and pulse rate. Hudlars consider their names to be their most private and personal possession, and do not give or use their names in the presence of anyone who is not a member of the family or a close friend.
             
            Classification:FSOJ 
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Protectors of the Unborn
            No Individual Names Known
            The Protector of the Unborn is a large, immensely strong lifeform that resembles aTralthan, but is less massive with stubbier legs projecting from a hemispherical carapace flared out slightly around the lower edges. The deployment of the legs and tentacles is similar to the Hudlar FROB life-form, but the carapace is a thicker ELNT Melfan shell without markings, and the FSOJ is plainly not herbivorous. From openings high on the carapace sprout four tentacles. Two different types of tentacles have been observed on different beings: long and particularly thin tentacles which terminate in flat, spear-like tips with serrated boney edges, and thick tentacles terminating in a cluster ofsharp, bony projections which make them resemble spiked clubs. The four stubby legs also have osseous pro-jections which enable them to be used as weapons as well. Midway between two of the tentacle openings there is a larger gap in the carapace from which protrudes a head, all mouth and teeth. The large upper and lower mandibles are capable of deforming all but the strongest metal alloys. A little space is reserved for two well-protected eyes at the bottom of deep, boney craters. A serrated tail also protrudes from the heavily slitted carapace. While the under-side is not armored, as is the carapace, this area is rarely open to attack, and it is covered by a thick tegument which apparently gives sufficient protection. In the center of this area is a thin, longitudinal fissure which opens into the birth canal. It will not open, however, until a few minutes before giving birth. The FSOJ brain is not in its skull, but deep inside the torso with the rest of the other vital organs. It is positioned just under the womb and surrounding the beginning of the birth canal. As a result, the brain is compressed as the embryo grows. If it is a difficult birth, the parent's brain is destroyed and junior comes out fighting, with a convenient food supply available until it can kill something for itself Senior Physicians Conway's first impression was that the entity was little more than an organic killing machine. Considering the fact that it is warm-blooded and oxygen-breathing, and its appendages show no evidence of the ability to manipulate tools or materials, Patholo-gist Murchison tentatively classified it as FSOJ and probably nonintelligent. The Unborn young of the bisexual FSOJ is retained in the womb until it is well-grown and fully equipped to survive. The Unborn is an intelligent and telepathic being, but loses these faculties at birth.
             
            Classification:GKNM
            Planet:Ia
            Species:Ian (adult)
            Individual:Patient Makolli
            The metamorphosed form of the adolescent DBLF lifeform. The species created a colony in this galaxy, coming from an adjoining one. The race is oxygen-breathing and oviparous, having a long, rodlike but flexible body, and possessing four insectile legs, ma-nipulators, the usual sense organs, and three tremendous sets of wings. The lifeform looks something like a large dragonfly.
             
            Classification:GLNO
            Planet:Cinruss
            Species:Cinrusskin
            Individual:Senior Physician Prilicla
            Cinrusskins are enormous, incredibly fragile flying insects, with a tubular exoskeletal body. Six sucker-tipped pencil-thin legs, four even more delicately fashioned, tiny, precise manipulators, and four sets ofwide, iridescent, and almost transparent wings project form the body. The head is a convoluted eggshell, so finely structured that the sensory and manipulatory organs that it supports seem ready to fall off at the first sudden movement. The eyes are large and triple-lidded. The Cinrusskin are the Federation's only empathic race. Cinruss has a dense atmosphere and one-eighth gravity. Cinrusskins are sexless.
             
            Classification:LSVO
            Planet:Nallaji
            Species:Nallajim
            Individuals:Kytili, Senior Physician Seldal
            The species has a birdlike, fragile, low-gravity physiology, with three legs, two not-quite-atrophied wings, and no hands at all. When LSVOs eat, they are sickened by anything which doesn't look like bird seed.
             
            Classification:MSVK
            Planet:Euril
            Species:Eurils
            No Individual Names Known
            Fragile, bipedal, stork-like beings from a low gravity world. The MSVK environment has dim lighting and a opaque fog for an atmosphere. The race is driven by an intense curiosity and hampered by extreme caution. They are the galaxy's prime observers, and are content to look and learn and record through their long-probes and sensors without making their presence known. MSVKs have a low tolerance to radiation.
             
            Classification:OTSB
            Planet:Traltha
            Species:Tralthan
            No Individual Names Known
            Tralthan Surgeons are really two beings instead of one, a combination of FGLI and OTSB.The OTSB is a nearly mindless symbiont which lives with its FGLI host. At first glance the OTSB looks like a furry ball sprouting a long ponytail, but a closer look shows that the ponytail is composed of scores of fine manipulators, most of which incorporate sensitive visual organs. A cluster of wire-thin, eye and sucker tipped tentacles sends infinitely detailed visual information to its giant host and receives instructions from the host. The Tralthan combinations are the best surgeons the Galaxy has ever known. Not all Tralthans choose to link up with a symbiote, but FGLI medics wear them like a badge of office.
             
            Classification:PVGJ
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:Doctor Fremvessith
            Apparent typographical error for Classification PVSJ.
             
            Classification:PVSJ
            Planet:Illensa
            Species:Illensan
            Individuals:Senior Physician Gilvesh, Charge Nurse Hredlichi, Diagnostician Lachlichi, Charge Nurse Leethveeschi
            Probable Individual:Charge Nurse Lentilatsar
            Illensans are chlorine breathers with shapeless spiny bodies and dry, rustling membranes joining the upper and lower appendages. The body resembles a haphazard collection of oily, yellow-green, unhealthy vegetation. The two stubby legs are covered by what look like oily blisters. Their loose protective suits are transparent except for the faint yellow fog of chlorine contained within. The Illensans are generally held to be the most visually repulsive beings in the Federation, as well as the most vain regarding their own physical appearance. Illensans suffer digestive upsets if they exercise after meals. Contact with water is instantly lethal to chlorine-breathers. PVSJs are not physiologically suited to the use of stairs and have very sensitive hearing.
             
            Classification:QCQL 
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            Apparent typographical error for Classification QLCL. Senior Physician Mannen did not know there was any such beastie, but Major O'Mara had a tape. There were two casualties of this classification at Sector General. The operations were suit jobs, since the gunk that the QCQLs breath would kill anything that walks, crawls or flies, excluding them.
             
            Classification:QLCL 
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            Recent, and very enthusiastic, members of the Federation, this species had never been to Sector General until the war with the Empire. Then a small ward was prepared to receive possible QLCL casualties. The ward was filled with the horribly corrosive fog the QLCLs used for an atmosphere, and the lighting was stepped up to the harsh, actinic blue which the they consider restful.
             
            Classification:SNLU 
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name: Vosan
            Individual:Diagnostician Semlic
            The SNLU life form requires a refrigerated life-support system for its ultra-low-temperature environment while on the Chlorine and Oxygen levels. A frigid-blooded methane-breather, it is most comfortable in an environment only a few degrees above absolute zero. The SNLUs have a complex mineral and liquid crystalline structure. The species evolved on the perpetually dark worlds which detached from their original solar systems and now drift through the interstellar spaces. Physically they are quite small, averaging one-third the body mass of a being like a Kelgian. In order to allow contact with other, warmer, species, the SN LUs are required to wear a large, complex, highly refrigerated life-support and sensor translation system, which requires frequent power recharge. The scales covering the SNLU's eight-limbed, starfish-shaped body shine coldly through the methane mist like multihued diamonds, mak-ing it resemble some wondrous, heraldic beast. The SNLUs live and work in the almost total silence of beings with a hypersensitivity to audible vibrations. These fragile, crystalline, methane-based lifeforms would decompose at temperatures in excess of eighteen degrees above absolute zero and be instantly cremated if the temperature rose above minus one-twenty on the temperature scale in use in the Federation.
             
            Classification:SRJH
            Planet:Drambo
            Species:Healers or Physicians or Protectors
            No Individual Names Known
            The Drambon Physicians are glorified leucocytes to the Drambon Strata Creatures, treating the many independent organisms living in and around those immense living carpets. The stupid, slow moving Drambon Physicians stay close to the most active and dan-gerous stretches of the Drambon shoreline. They resemble jelly-fish, so transparent that only their internal organs are visible. A leech-like form of life, the SRJHs seem comfortable in either air or water. Their reactions in the presence of severe illness or injury are instinctive. Using their spines or stings, they practice their profession by withdrawing the blood of their patients and pun fying it of any infection or toxic substances before returning it to the patients' bodies. (The process repairs simple physical damage as well.) However, not all the withdrawn blood is returned. It has not been established whether it is physiologically impossible for the SRJH to return it all or whether the Physician retains a few ounces as payment for services rendered. A Physicians can kill as well as cure. It can barely touch a beast, causing a predator to go into a muscular spasm so violent that parts of its skeleton pop through the skin. There is no evidence that they communicate verbally, visually, tactually, telepathically, by smell or by any other system known to Sector General. The quality of their emotional radiation suggests that they do not communicate at all in the accepted sense. The Physicians are simply aware ofother beings and objects around them and, by using their eyes and a mechanism similar to the empathic faculty, they are able to identi~ friend and foe.
             
            Classification:SRTT
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            This physiological type is amoebic, possessing the ability to extrude any limbs, sensory organs or protective tegument necessary to the environment in which it finds itself. It is so fantastically adaptable that it is difficult to imagine how one of these beings could ever fall sick in the first place.
             
            Classification:TLTU
            Planet:Threcald 5
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:TLTU Diagnostician
            A TLTU doctor breathes superheated steam and has pressure and gravity requirements three times greater than the environment of the oxygen levels. The local protection needed by a TLTU doctor is a great, clanking juggernaut which hisses continually as if it is about to spring a leak. The large protective suit resembles a spherical pressure boiler bristling with remote handling devices and mounted on caterpillar treads, and has to be avoided at all costs. The large size is needed to allow for heaters to render the occupant comfortable, and surface insulation and refrigerators to keep the vicinity habitable by other life-forms. The small TLTU lifeform inhabits a heavy-gravity, watery planet with edible minerals, which circles very close to its parent sun. The TLTU's blood consists of superheated liquid metal. TLTU patients are transported in their protective spheres anchored to stretcher carriers. These spheres emit a high-pitched, shuddering whine as their generators labor to main-tain the internal temperature at a comfortable, for their occupants, five hundred degrees.
             
            Classification:TOBS
            Planet:Fotawn
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:Trainee/Doctor Danalta
            This being can extrude any limbs, sense organs, or protective tegument necessary to the environment or situation in which it finds itself. It evolved on a planet with a highly eccentric orbit, and with climatic changes so severe that an incredible degree of physical adapt-ability was necessary for survival. It became dominant on its world, and developed intelligence and a civilization, not by competing in the matter of natural weapons but by refining and perfecting its adaptive capability. When it is faced by natural enemies, the options are flight, protective mimicry, or the assumption of a shape frightening to the attacker. The speed and accuracy of the mimicry, particularly in the almost perfect reproduction ofbehavior patterns, suggests that the entity may be a receptive empath. The empathic faculty is under voluntary control, so that the level of emotional radiation reaching its receptors can be reduced, or even cut off at will, should it become too distressing. With such effective means of self-protection available, the species is impervious to physical damage other than by complete annihilation or application of ultrahigh temperatures.The concept of curative surgery would be a strange one indeed to members of that race. They do not require mechanisms for self-protection, so they are likely to be advanced in the philosophical sciences but back-ward in developing technology. When not trying to look like something else, TOBSs take the configuration of a large, dark-green, uneven ball.
             
            Classification:TRLH
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            No Individual Names Known
            The TRLH casualty was an ally of the Empire during that war. Classification was aided by the fact that the patient's spacesuit was transparent as well as flexible. The atmosphere the being breathes is as exotic as that of the QCQLs, but can be reproduced. The TRLH has a thin carapace which covers its back and curves down and inwards to protect the central area of its underside. Four thick, single-jointed legs project from the uncovered sections. It has a large but lightly boned head, four manipulatory appendages, two recessed but extensible eyes, and two mouths.
             
            Classification:VTXM
            Planet:Telf
            Species:Telfi, Telphi
            Individual:Astrogator-part Cheixic
            A group-mind species whose small beetle-like bodies live by the direct conversion of various combinations and intensities of hard radiation. Mthough individually the beings are quite stupid, the gestalt entities are highly intelligent. The Telfi operate in groups as contact telepaths to pool their mental and physical abilities. The Telfi have a spoken language as well as the telepathic faculty used between individuals, especially members of a family gestalt. Another variant of the species resembles a large, terrestrial lizard, just under five feet long from the bulbous head to vestigial tail, with an extra set of forelimbs growing from the base of the neck. The only visible features are two tiny, lidless eyes and the mouth. The four stubby walking limbs can be bent double to lie flat against the body while the two, longer forward manipulators can stretch forward and cross so as to allow the chin to rest on the crossover point. The skin of a dead Telfi is pale gray with a mottled and veined effect that resembles unpolished marble. The color is a symptom of advanced radiation starvation and a lethal failure of the absorption mechanism. A healthy Telfi reflects no light at all, looking like liz-ard-shaped black holes. A healthyTelfi's temperature is below room temperature. Investigating their ultra-hot metabolism closely is to risk radiation poisoning. There is a fallacy among non-medics that the Telfi cannot be closely approached or touched without the use of remotely controlled manipulators. To live they must absorb the radiation normally provided by their natural environment but when, for clinical reasons, the radiation is withdrawn for several days and they are week from their equivalent of hunger, their radioactive emissions drop to a harmless level.
             
            Classification:VUXG 
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Name Unknown
            Individual:Dr. Arretapec
            The VUXG resembles nothing so much as a withered prune float-mg in a spherical gob of syrup. The species has telepathic, teleportive, and~sort of precognitive abilities. The precognitive ability does not appear to be of much use because it does not work with individuals but only with populations, and so far in the future and in such a haphazard manner that it is practically useless.
             
            Classification:Unknown
            Planet:Drambo
            Species:Farmer Fish
            No Individual Names Known
            The large-headed Farmer Fish are responsible for cultivating and protecting benign growth and destroying all other growth in the Drambon Strata Creature. Farmer Fish have stubby arms sprout-ing from the base of their enlarged heads.
             
            Classification:Unknown
            Planet:Drambo
            Species:Strata Creatures
            No Individual Names Known
            The largest creature on the planet Drambo~so large that at a scoutship's suborbital velocity of six thousand plus miles per hour it takes just over nine minutes to travel from one side of the patient to the other. The creature is so vast that it has many independent parts performing specialized functions, such as the eye plants, air renewal plants, Farmer Fish, Thought Controlled Tools, and vegetable teeth. The parts can communicate via a mineral-rich sap. The creature uses water instead of blood as its working fluid. It is not clear if the entire creature is an animal or a plant, there being components of both in its immense expanse. There is only one intelligent Strata Creature on Drambo, and it is being treated for radiation poisoning.
             
            Classification:Unknown
            Planet:Drambo
            Species:Thought Controlled Tools
            No Individual Names Known
            Under the mental control of its user, a "tool" can assume any useful shape imagined. At Sector General, one appeared as a Hudlar type six scalpel, a medium-sized box spanner, a metallic sphere, a miniature bust of Beethoven, a set of Tralthan dentures, and a Hudlar food sprayer, among other things. The tools belong to the only sentient Strata Creature on Drambo, and were used to attack the medical and military forces attempting to treat the Strata Crea-ture for radiation poisoning.
             
            Classification:Unknown
            Planet:Dutha
            Species:Duthan
            Individuals:Patient Bowab, His Excellency the Lord Scrennagle of 
            Dutha
            Duthans have a centaur-like body. The torso from the waist up resembles that of an Earth-human, but the musculature of the arms, shoulders and chest are subtly different. The hands are five-digited, each comprised of three fingers and two opposable thumbs. The head is carried erect above a very thick neck, which seems disproportionately small.The face is dominated by two large, soft, brown eyes that somehow make the slits, pro tuberan ces, and fleshy petals which comprise the other features visually acceptable.
             
            Classification:Unknowm
            Planet:Keran
            Species:Keranni
            No Individual Names Known
            No description given.
             
            Classification:Unknown
            Planet:Unknown
            Species:Kreglinni
            No Individual Names Known
            No description given.
             
            Classification:Various
            Planet:Meatball
            Species:CLCH/CLHG Drambon Rollers, Drambon Farmer Fish, Drambon Strata Creatures, Drambon Thought Controlled Tools, SRJH Drambon Healers or Physicians or Protectors
            The planet was originally named by the crew of Descartes, but the name was considered derogatory by one of the native intelligent species. The planet is now referred to as Drambo.

       

