"And you don't know," said Cheng, "if it will extend your life?"

"They don't know," Barton said. "We can try it, they say, and either way I'll live, not lose anything. But it's a pisser."

"How so?" said Myra Hake.

"Whether it works or not, you suffer a lot, for a few weeks. Limila hadn't mentioned that part, before." He shrugged. "Well, no reason why she should. Nothing much comes for free." ^

"And when would you know,".said Abdul, "whether or not the treatment has been effective? In the sense of in- creased longevity?"

"If over the next ten years," Limila said, "Barton has not aged appreciably, then we might assume some benefit V from treatment."

Myra said, "Barton-are you going to try it? Be the guinea pig?"

He laughed, not for long. "Sure. Because guinea pig, that's exactly right. Somebody has to, regardless of how we work out the implications for Earth. And I seem to be the only one in the crowd whose most needful person is going to outlive him by maybe fifty years if he doesn't come up with some kind of miracle."

"And the rest of us wait ten years, still aging," said Cheng Ai, "until we see whether the gimmick works on you?"

Myra Hake reached an arm around Cheng's head and

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pulled him over to her. "Of course not, you dear idiot.

Three guinea pigs are better than one."

The waiting period. Barton thought, before learning whether Tilari techniques could extend Earthani Ufespan, took a lot of pressure off the worries about overpopulated Earth. "So long as we keep this whole bundle under Top Clam," he said. Nobody disagreed. Cheng and Myra went to the main port area and underwent the same discomforts Barton had endured. Myra brought back a supply of the depilatory stuff, for use in maintaining the Tilaran front hairline on herself and Barton and Cheng and Ahdul, just in case the disguise might really fool anybody. Barton was pleased; be was tired of trying to cover shaving stubble with makeup, even though sunlamp treatment had given the bared scalp areas about the same color as everybody's original foreheads. Barton still thought their attempts to fake Tilaran appearance looked pretty silly, but it was the only game in town, so why argue?

Anyway, his body gave evidence that the effect wasn't

permanent.

Vertan came once to visit, and reported that without

Tilaran permission, Karsen ap Fenn had put squads of armed Marines to patrolling the main port city. "They are likely of search for all of you," he said. "I am by no means of consent that he do these things, but as yet-"

"You don't want to start an open fight with the sbn-of- a-bitch," said Barton, and Vertan nodded. Barton thought a moment, and said, "Do you know what he's done about

our ship? If anything?"

Invested it with armed Marines, the answer came.

What else? Barton frowned. "But is he doing anything about the extra weapons?" Not a chance that ap Fenn's people on their own could replicate the twin-ion beam or the plasma gun or the high-drive torpedoes, but...

**He has not asked of our aid," said Vertan. "And should he, he will not be of receipt of it. Though to re- fuse him might be of awkwardness."

"Yeh,** Barton said. "Awkward. But just hang in aw^

ward, Vertan, if that's what it takes."

If Twieton would only get back here!

But Tarieton didn't, nor did any ships from the first fleet. Ap Fenn fumed, Barton was told, under the slow niggling process of refueling as set by Vertan. Tiring of

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secondhand reports. Barton once drove to the main port's city and prowled the port himself, feeling that his Tilaran disguise must stand out like a clown suit. But no one challenged him,,and indeed he saw Karsen ap Fenn him- self within quiet-hello range, and the man glanced briefly at him and turned away and walked on. For a moment Barton was insanely tempted to go after the admiral and do his Tilaran impersonation on some sort of interview format: "I am of the public bureau for information, of disseminating current facts, and I would like to ..." But then he shrugged and dropped the idea. Don't be stupid.

So he watched ap Fenn, well guarded by armed person- nel, move away.

At "home," at the residence of Tevann and sometimes of Uelein, Barton tried to relax and enjoy life. He wasn't good at waiting; he never had been, which was one reason the eight years in the Demu cage had made him a little hard to get along with, by the time he escaped. He knew all about that. Barton did. It didn't help much.

He had figured that Limila would spend some night- times with Tevann, her most needful person in the old days before her capture, and he was right Tilaran sexual protocol pretty well put it up to him and Uelein, to tidy up the edges; he knew that. But while he liked the woman well enough, and she also seemed friendly. Barton felt no urge or need for intimacy with her. Uelein was sure enough a nice lady, but they didn't know each other, any.

That lack hadn't always stopped Barton, though. One evening, left on his own again, he borrowed a car and drove down to the nearby auxiliary spaceport Where livajj and Gerain had been placed in jobs on a Tilaran starship. He found the ship, and found welcome.

They-Gerain and livajj and several crewmates-were eating. Barton was fed; he accepted klieta and some local booze that had good clout but no flavor pattern that quite fit what his tastebuds recognized. For now, though, it would do.

And then Evajj bade him rise and steered him to a quiet cabin, and made drinks for them both and sat facing him and took his hand.

"Barton-it has been a long time. I am now of glad- ness."

Suddenly it was the same as their first meeting. livajj still wore her dark red hair in a heavy curl that came

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forward over her left shoulder. Her lips still parted in a

smile of welcome. When in Rome-Barton sighed, and went to her without reserve, and found that .he hadn't forgotten one sweet thing about her, nor remembered anything incorrectly, either.

Afterward, before he drove home, they fed him well again, too.

Even with the flexible linings of the Tilaran dentures, Limila's new teeth were stretching her jaw muscles. But on their own, those teeth hadn't sprouted quite far enough to work with any real comfort. Put that annoyance to- gether with the developing pregnancy, and Barton could see why Limila was a little touchy, sometimes. So when she said she was heading in to the main port's medical center again, he felt relief and didn't ask questions.-

She came back with her head bandaged and no wig would have covered the bulk of it. "The scalp of that girl is implanted on me. Barton. I will again, as before the Demu, grow hair that I cannot wash and hang some- where, conveniently, until it dries."

First time, this was, that she hadn't asked him about making changes in the things the Demu had done to her.

So he grappled onto her with a hug, and said, "That's good. We'll see how it goes." Well, they each had their

vulnerable spots. Barton's could wait.

As before, with the breasts, Limila's bandages also held protruding bits of apparatus, dotted with small flashing indicator lights. The trick. Barton knew, was to filter the blood entering and leaving the transplant, removing the enzymic factors that would otherwise cause rejection, until Limila's blood shifted the balance and n& more filtering was necessary. The indicators had been designed to face forward, so she could use a mirror to check the state of affairs, and Barton was glad of that much, be- cause either he wasn't good at understanding the complex sequence and its changes, or 'else she was no great shakes at explaining it. At any rate, Limila seemed satisfie^i-^y the progress the lights showed.

The tests on Cheng and Myra gave i^e Tuaran medics enough info. Barton learned, to go ahead and develop longevity treatments for Earthani. With only Barton's samples to work from, there had been questions as to what differences were individual to him and which

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were inter-species constants. But three people gave the Tilarans a baseline, so to speak, a way to define the parameters of treated and untreated Tilarans and Earthani on a clear-cut basis of "A is to B as C is to D." Which meant. Barton decided, that at least they weren't flying as blind as they had been.

Again, enzymes were an important key. It wasn't enough to introduce modified ones into the body; the trick was to convince the body, from then on, to produce the modified variety. And the process. Barton heard with foreboding, could kick up all sorts of painful hell for the patient. Well, he'd try to be braced for it. Especially since the ecstasy drug would interact and foul up the results, maybe, so it couldn't be used.