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Updated: June 29, 2025
He dared not look away from that gathering to see how the fight at the other end of the camp was progressing. But he did see Tau's advance. The medic came into the light of the fire, not with his ordinary loose-limbed spaceman's stride, but mincingly, with a dancing step, and he was singing to the drum beat of "Terra Bound."
He said woozily, "How long was I out?" "The usual time," Ringg said briskly, "about three seconds just while we hit peak warp-drive. Feels longer, so they tell me, sometimes time's funny, beyond light-speeds. The medic says it's purely psychological. I'm not so sure. I itch, blast it!" He moved his shoulders in a squirming way, then bent over Rugel, who was moaning, half insensible.
But all three of the spacemen heard that sound, a far off throbbing rhythm which was a vibration as well. Jellico looked to Tau. "Drums?" "Could be." The medic screwed the cap back on his canteen. "I'd say we have company only I'd like to know what kind!"
"But he says you should not so deep have cut. The mixing of blood now only a symbol is." "I didn't go deep," Tarlac said. "Just enough to nick the vein. You can tell him I'll keep it in mind, though." He smiled at the medic, the only direct communication he could manage, while Hovan translated. When they left the medical center, Hovan looked thoughtfully at Steve.
Lumbrilo pattered forward, his bare feet making little sound on the stones of the terrace. Now he was only an arm's-length away from the medic. "You have challenged me, off-world man." Was that a question or a statement? Dane wondered. "Why should I challenge you, Lumbrilo? To each race its own magic. I come not to offer battle." His eyes held steady with the Khatkan's. "You have challenged me."
"I say, old man, are you hit bad?" Allison's voice came to Stan through the dizzy haze closing in around him. "Just nicked," Stan muttered and grinned. By some twist Allison and O'Malley had escaped. He felt much better, so much better that he laughed, or thought he did. Stan lay on his bunk with a medic giving him treatment before the ambulance boys packed him off.
As the outer port of the flitter berth closed Dane reached over and pulled loose the lashing which immobilized his companion. The Medic stood up, a little awkwardly as might any man who wore space armor the first time. The inner hatch now opened and Dane waved his captive into the small section which must serve them as a decontamination space.
But without the professional testimony of the Medic, the weight of an expert opinion on their side, they were licked. Well, sometimes luck did not ride a man's fins all the way in. But some stubborn core within Dane refused to let him believe that they had lost. He went over to the Medic huddled in a chair. To all appearances Hovan was deeply asleep, sunk in the semi-coma the sleep ray produced.
The medic produced a small camera and focused it on Alan. He pressed a button; a droning sort of hum came from the machine. Alan felt a curious glow of warmth. "Just a routine check," the medic apologized again. He flipped a lever in the back of the camera. Abruptly the droning stopped and a tape unravelled out of the side of the machine. The medic studied it. "Any trouble?" Alan asked anxiously.
All routine changes, and a matter of a few minutes, with the aid of the Liaison equipment. The medic was busy making connections, giving injections and setting dials. Thane looked up at the brightly lighted ceiling. With no perceptible lapse he was still staring at it when the medic began taking off the connections.
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