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the Tilari, have star travel. All they don't have is the shield against the sleep gun, or any idea how to find the Demu. We can give them both."

"Well, yes," said Tarleton. "I'll put through a memo upstairs in the Agency, on that idea. You give me the location of the Tilari planets and-"

"Limila will give you that stuff when the expedition is in space, no sooner. Christ on a crutch, you think I trust a bunch of Agency wheels to keep the faith for you? No sale. I'll go ahead with this training jazz, on your word to go to bat for me. But the Agency gets the scoop on the Tilari-and how to find the other races they know who'll want to get into the act and could help a lot-you get all that when we're on our way, not before." He wasnt bluffing. He'd talked the matter over with Limila; she was in full agreement with him.

"It might work. Barton." Tarleton spoke slowly. "But how do you know the Agency couldn't get the informa- tion directly from Hishtoo?"

"If Limila doesn't feel like interpreting for you? How much do you trust Siewen's abilities any more? Even if Hishtoo just happened to be feeling cooperative, which I doubt. Think about it."

Tarleton, from the looks of him, did think about it "I think you've got us boxed. Barton. And you know something? I'm glad of it. Because as you say, it is your fight." Barton looked at him and felt he could trust the big man. He purely hoped so.

The training went about as planned. On Barton's fourth day at Seattle, after seeing Tarleton off to New Mexico by SST, he was riding supercargo observing one of his first four students instructing a new batch of trainees. Three days later he decided the program had become self- sustaining as scheduled, and packed his suitcase. He had lunch with Claeburn and the four original trainees, enjoy- ing this goodbye scene a lot more than he had expected.

About an hour later he lifted the Demu ship off for New Mexico.

Just for the hell of it he got clearance to go by way of Luna. He cruised slowly back and forth above the surface at eyeball range, seeing the manmade installations and the undisturbed areas that had thrilled him on TV in his younger days, when the first landings had been made.

With a sigh for that younger self. Barton turned back to Earth.

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It took him a little time to locate New Mexico and get talked in, but eventually he found the proper spot and set the ship down. Tarleton had left the site for the day.

Barton got a ride to his quarters. He called Parr and got no answer, so he had a shower before preparing a pre- packaged dinner and eating it. The package was na- tionally advertised over tri-V and tasted like it, but Barton hardly noticed. He was too busy being lonesome.

He called Parr again; for a wonder be got him on the first try. He could. Parr told him, see Limila the next day.

In fact, the timing was good; the bandages were to be re- moved tomorrow. Maybe she could use Barton's presence in support. Barton tried to ask detailed questions but was brushed off. "Come see for yourself," was bow Parr put it. Barton growled his thanks and hung up.

He was still restless; tomorrow was a long time away.

There had been a day-old note in the mailbox: Arleta Fox was in urgent need of his company. Barton was in no hurry for that interview. He supposed he'd have to give the lady one more session of brainpicking at least, before he got the hell off Earth again. But the later the better.

He was too close to making it, to take any more chances than he could help.

Now in the early evening, he decided to walk off his tensions, out in the clear air. He thought to look in on Eeshta, realizing that he hadn't had a real visit with her since the time she'd given him^he clue to Limila's plight.

Limilal It was going to be a long night.

The guard was unfamiliar but recognized Barton's name. "Do you want to go in, sir?" he asked.

"See if she'd like to come out for a little walk," Barton said. "We'll be back before dark. It's OK with Tarleton."

The guard nodded and went inside.

Sooner than Barton expected, the guard came back with Eeshta. She was wearing a small cap and a short sleeveless robe, and sandals. Looking more acclimated all the time. Barton thought. He was surprised at the glow of real pleasure be felt at seeing her. "Hello, Eeshta," he said. "How's it going with you?"

She Demu-smiled at him. "I am happier now. Barton."

she said. They strolled westward into the after-sunset light.

**I learn much about your people. They are so different.

Not only from ours, but from each other. It is very new and very challenging, to try to understand. I try to tell Hishtoo, my egg-parent, but he does not want to hear. He

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says I am becoming an animal." She hissed-the equiva- lent, Barton knew, of a sigh. "Perhaps one day he will be wilting to team." Barton decided he wouldn't bet much of a bundle on that possibility.

"How's the Freak doing, these days?" he said.

"Heimbach? I do not know. They took him away sev- eral days ago. I have not seen him since." Barton was faintly surprised that Eeshta knew Whosits' real name.

"Who took him?" Not that Barton cared, particularly, but it was something to say, to keep her talking.

"Tie man Tarleton and others I do not know." Tarle- ton hadn't said anything . . . Well, what did it matter?

"What else are you learning, Eeshta? Anything you es- pecially enjoy?"

"Oh. yes. Barton! Your music. It is so different from ours. Some of it, I am told, is out of my range of hearing.

But it seems I hear parts you do not. I think if I stay here, music will be my study and work. I like it so very much."

Barton was no music buff himself, but he asked Eeshta about her favorite composers and performers. He didn't give a damn what they discussed; he simply wanted the young Demu to feel comfortable with him. He realized be might still be feeling guilt for having roughed her up so much at first acquaintance. But the way it fett to Barton, he liked the lad, was all.

As the conversation hit a lull, it struck him that Eeshta might not know what she and her little speech- prosthesis had done, inadvertently, for Limila. So, as best he could, he tried to explain what had happened, what was being done.

"They make her as she was? It seems not to be possi- ble. But so good, if true."

"Well, not exactly the way she was," Barton admitted, "but a lot closer. Some things, like the teeth, will be artifi- cial. But for the most part we hope she'U look pretty much like the original model, or at least a close relative.

"The doctor is doing some work on Siewen, too,"

he added. "What he can."

"Poor Siewen," Eeshta said. "Some things are not pos- sible for him, too late. And Heimbach?"

"The Freak wouldn't have any part of it, not even teeth. I guess he likes eating mush all the time."

"I feel badly. Barton. For Heimbach, for Siewen and Umila, for all the dead ones where we made worse mis-

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takes. But now for Limila, and some for Siewen, I can feel better. For helping, even not knowing I helped."

"Well, you know now. Eeshta. And we're grateful to you, believe me."

"Of that, I can be glad."

The short twilight was ending. Barton took Eeshta's hand; they jogged back toward her quarters, laughing as they ran out of breath from the unaccustomed exercise.

At least Barton was laughing; Eeshta's mouth was doing something he couldn't make out in the dim light, but he felt she shared his mood. Then they were home.