worked.

"Hi, Barton," he said. "Limila, we have a problem here. Either Hishtoo or Siewen, or both of them, may be getting cutesie with us. And the question is too important to take chances. Come on and we'll run them through it again."

"Maybe I could-" Barton began.

"You go see Fox; she's kicking up a storm," Tarleton said. Then, over his shoulder, "See you later," as he escorted Limila into the building.

"Yen," Barton said to nobody, "ol' Indispensable Barton. They Just couldn't get along without me." The funny thing was that the incident truly depressed him;

he hadn't thought he was quite so touchy.

Well, he might as well go see Fox. It was starting out to be a lousy day; why spoil it? Moodily he drove off in

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the jeep, kicking up great bursts of dust by gunning it through the more powdery parts of the bumpy road.

Home again, he decided he needed a shower to cool off. He changed into fresh clothes to replace those he'd dusted up so thoroughly, horsing around with the jeep on the way in. He tried to call Dr. Fox and let her know he was on his way. He couldn't get through; the local phone exchange was having one of its own bad days, which were frequent lately. So he set out, unannounced and unenthusiastic.

Barton found himself driving jerkily, and knew the tension was getting to him. He was so close to his goal-so close. He felt as though the raw ends of his nerves had grown out through bis skin. Normal sensations became almpsL-pain. Everything jarred. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to relax, as he parked the jeep and walked to Dr. Fox's office.

Arieta Fox greeted him pleasantly enough. "Do stt down, Mr. Barton. This is Dr. Schermerhom, our new intern.** She gestured toward a bullet-headed young man with a short, scraggly beard. He and Barton shook hands, mumbled greetings, sat

"111 be with you in a moment; let me refresh my mem- ory first This is the latest computer read-out on your overall test series. A quick skim, only, if you don't mind."

And what. Barton wondered, if he did mind? He rec- ognized the thought as pointless.

Covertly, he appraised Schermerhorn. Intern? He looked more like muscle to Barton; he had the size and weight Well, we'll see, thought Barton. He hoped he was wrong.

Sooner than he would have preferred, Dr. Fox got around to him. "Mr. Barton," she began, "I'd like to ask your cooperation in a few more experiments. Brief ones, I assure you." Barton saw her seeing his face freeze, but she smiled and waved a hand as if to mitigate something.

"You must understand," she said, "that our basic purpose is to gain some comprehension of the Demu mind, so as to know what our race faces in the future."

"How does my head help you with that? You have two for-real Demu, and three people who were bent pretty far in that direction. Plus the ship."

"The study of the ship is in good hands. It is not my province; I deal with living minds. In this case I have very few to deal with, and some are of little use.

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"You know as well as I that Siewen is reduced to something of a pushbutton mechanism. His data and logic are intact, but^in a sense there is no one home to operate them. He answers questions literal-mindedly, ignoring connotations.

"Heimbach is so disoriented as to be useless not only to me but to himself. Having no access to his earlier rec- ords, I cannot tell whether his condition is a result of his treatment at the hands of the Demu, or whether he has always been an incapable personality."

Well, she had those two pegged right. Barton thought.

And himself?

"I have bad no opportunity to study the woman Umila. I do not like to begrudge you your vacation tour, but I'm afraid I do. Because it eliminated my only opportunity to learn about the mind of the Tilari race.

There is no point in trying to perform such a study in only a day or two, I'm sure you'll agree.

"Of the two Demu, we can get only the grossest of behavioral data from the adult. The younger one, on the other hand, is so eager to learn that she is rapidly be- coming more like one of us than one of her own race, which we need so desperately to understand."

"Yeah, the kid has come a long way in a hurry," Bar- ton said. "I noticed that."

"So that leaves you. Barton." Well, at long last, she had dropped that goddam phony "Mister." "You see why you're so important to us? You're the only one who went through the entire ordeal and came out fully human."

(Want to bet?) "They didn't cut you up physically or break your spirit. You are the one who escaped and brought us back the whole package. And I think perhaps you may be the most important part of that package.'*

"I think you're reading too much into the fact that once in a while somebody does luck out. You already have my head on your computer tapes, along with the story and all my knee-jerk reflexes. What more can you get from me that you don't already have? In my honest opinion, I think you're looking for something that isn't there." He wished with all his heart that he could afford to have an honest opinion.

She looked at him, long and hard. "Damn you, Bar- toni I've analyzed the tapes from that simpleminded computer, and I don't believe the *freeze trauma' theory any more than you do. I wish you would allow question-

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ing under hypnotics. Oh, you needn't worry; I promised not to use them without your consent, and I won't. But you're keeping things back. Not on purpose, probably.

But you have valuable data that you won't give me.

You can't, because you won't look at it yourself!"

Entirely too close for comfort, lady. Oddly, as Arleta Fox became a greater and greater threat to him, his reluctant liking for her increased. Of course, it was not as though he could let his feelings make any difference to anything.

"I don't know about all that," he stalled. "You could be right; how would I know?" With an effort, he smiled at her. "All right; you must have something you want to try, to get at whatever you think I know that you don't.

Or you wouldn't be bothering now, would you? So what's the pitch, Doc?"

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Barton.'* OA-oh! Back to the phony deal; watch out. "A few further nonverbal experiments. That is, not written tests; I may ask some questions, of course. May we have your cooperation, Mr. Barton?"

Well, what could he say? He nodded.

"Dr. Schermerhom," she said, "would you show Mr.

Barton to Lab B? I'll be along in a minute, as soon as I abstract the notes I'll need, from the file here."

Schermerhom, doctor or muscle, whichever, politely showed Barton through a maze of corridors to a door marked "Laboratory B." He rumbled a key ring out of his pocket and found the key that fit. Out of the corner of his eye. Barton noticed Arleta Pox briskly rounding a hall comer to join them.

Schermerhom opened the door, and gestured for Bar- ton to precede him. Barton moved, still watching Dr. Fox over his shoulder. Then he looked at the room he was entering,

The ceiling was low and gray. The room was empty, barren, about ten feet square with no other visible open- ings. The opposite wall lighted; he saw the outline of a robed, hooded figure.

Eight years hit Barton like a maul. Adrenalin shock staggered him; he lurched, recovered. Almost in one mo- tion he turned and grabbed the doorframe, kicked at the door Schermerhom was closing. The door swung back.

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Barton was on his way out. On his way out of the Demu research station and stopping for nothing.

Scbermerhorn was too big, .too strong to mess around with; Barton braced a foot against the edge of the door- frame and launched himself. His head caught Schermer- hom square in the face. Barton landed in the middle of the corridor, on all fours; Schermerhom sprawled on his back against the opposite wall, blood spurting between the fingers held to his face. Instant nose job, thought Barton, getting up. Well, things were tough all over. And the ceil- ing back there was low and gray.

Schermerborn tried to sit up. Barton kicked him under the ear; he fell back again. Behind him. Barton heard a noise. He looked around, and suddenly was back oa Earth. It wasn't much of an improvement.

Incredibly, Arleta Fox was still coming toward him.

"Wait, Bartoni" He shook his bead impatiently; there was no time to waste, talking with a dead woman. He moved toward her, flexing the hand on which he'd landed much too bard.

Finally she had the sense to back away. "No, Bartoni It's all rightl That was the testi" Yes. I know. Doctor, and now here come the results. Sorry. But you could be worse off. You could be in a gray cage.

She had stopped backing now. but was still talking.

Never shut off a source of information while it might still be of use. There wasn't that much hurry.