When they had kissed long enough, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"I show.'* She opened the robe. Low on her ribcage, where once her wide-set breasts had been, were two palm-sized bandages. Barton's eyebrows asked his word- less question.

"It is cut to explore-to see what is there yet, of use to restore what the Demu took. As well as may be done."

She smiled. "Not a bad hurt, this, except when touched, pressed."

"That's good." Barton recalled that the Tilari had not developed anesthesia. "But there is a drug," Limila had told him-"pain turns to ecstasy." When the drug wore off, though, he supposed the situation would be a little rough.

"What-uh, what was found?"

"I am not yet told. Tomorrow I will learn. But, Bar- ton ..." Her expression became intense.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Teeth, Barton. Is it important to you, that sometimes I have Earth teeth?"

"I don't get it. What-?"

"There is a way now, a new way, that teeth might again grow of me." As she described what she bad been told. Barton recognized it. ". . . From another, a dead child, perhaps-that part from which grows a tooth, im- planted. . . ." Dentists on Earth had transplanted tooth- buds before Barton was born. He didn't know why the practice had never become widely spread-whether there were bugs in the process or if it was merely too expensive.

"And so I would have Tilaran teeth, in size and num- ber. Would that disturb you?"

He almost laughed-then he realized she was serious.

"Good Lord, no! Hell, get sixty, if you want" She hesi- tated, then smiled-

"For a time, while they grow, I will be with none.**

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True; dentures over sprouting tooth-buds would be not only painful but unusable. She shrugged. "But, so it was before."

Barton thought of another problem. Demu cosmetic surgery included shortening tongues to Demu standards

-in speech, the sounds "s" and "z" became "sh" and "zh." Limiia's denture bad a transverse ridge the short- ened tongue could reach, for better pronunciation. But when he asked, she had the answer.

"I thought to inquire. It is all right; surgery can pro- vide."

Careful to avoid the bandaged areas. Barton hugged her. "Anything-anything that helps you feel more like yourself-well, don't worry about me. Just go ahead.

Okay?" He wished she would not go to such lengths to defer to him, but he knew why she did it. He had taken her from the Demu, and on Earth-when it was alien to her, and she to other eyes only a mutilated monstrosity

-he had been her one anchor of stability. But Barton didn't want to be her lord-and-master. "Most need- ful person" suited him a lot better. . . .

They talked further; he brought her up to date on the latest conference results. Then they kissed again, and he left As he passed, the male Tilaran looked up and nodded.

Outside, car and driver waited as agreed. The end of twilight was near; the clea'r air bore pleasant, unfamiliar fragrances. Barton enjoyed t&e ride, and at the ship, bade the woman a cheerful good night.

It had been a long day. Although he knew there was much he and Tarleton could discuss profitably, he had a quick snack, retired to Compartment Two, and went to bed early, for a change.

For the next two days he did not see Limila-he was told that she was not to be disturbed, and that was that.

Knowing his own tendency to stubbornness. Barton sur- prised himself by accepting the restriction without pro- test.

Work kept him busy. The Job of fitting new weapons into the nose sections of the Earth ships turned into a real jigsaw puzzle. Many drawings and scale mockups were tried and discarded before the first sample nstalla- tion began. It worked, largely because Corwi, the Larka-Te, had a genius for spatial configurations and an

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unorthodox way of tackling them. Barton's admiration grew; he could appreciate the results but could not fol- low the process by which Corval reached them.

As soon as the prototype was complete, Tarleton put it to use in training his weapons personnel on their new equipment.

Fitting the alien ships with lasers was more difficult The Tilaran folded-path model could not handle the power required; effective range would be less than half that of the Earth version. Slobodna's outside-tube idea, though unwieldy, was adopted-except by Corval. On his own ship, the Larka-Te removed everything forward of the drive unit, along the central axis, relocating the uprooted items helter-skelter. To Barton, the result looked like Riot Night in the gasworks-but it worked.

The next time Barton saw Slobodna, he asked him about the hand weapons. ". . . And any luck on the per- sonal Shields?"

"The hand lasers and sleep-guns look good; Vertan's ready to start production. The Shields-well, they work fine, but the generator is too heavy to carry in combat.

We're trying a new approach, and, at the least, we can rig the present model on motorized carts, to cover men in small groups."

Barton frowned, then nodded. "Yeh, that's an idea.

Well, stay with it, huh, Slowboat?"

"Right. Hey, you know that one each Larka-Te and Filjar ship headed home this morning, to start things moving from that end?"

Barton had heard; he nodded. Moving on to his next job, he found himself wondering at everyone's calm as- surance that Larka-Te and Filjar fleets could and would be organized on such short notice. But then, he reflected, Earth had reacted in a hurry when he alone brought a Demu ship and news of the threat. And these races had known the Demu longer than Earth had ....

Inside the conference building, Barton poured him- self a mug of klieta and leafed through the latest planning sheets. Integration was setting in, he saw-Corval would leave his own redesigned ship to ride with Slobodoa when Squadron Two lifted for Larka; Kimchuk would accom- pany Tamirov to FUj.

Logically, he supposed, Vertan would have joined Tarleton on Ship One-but the presence of the two Demu left no vacant quarters, and Barton himself would have

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complained to high Heaven at the prospect of losing a trained crew member. So, instead, Vertan would join Estelle Cummings in the lead ship of Squadron Four.

Well, Barton told himself, nothing ever fits all the pigeon- holes.

He noted that there would be further interchange of personnel for liaison purposes. The details were still be- ing run through the conference mill. And he had read enough, for that day.

On Ship One, sitting at dinner with Tarleton, he real- ized that it had been two days since he had seen Limila.

All the days were long days now; Barton felt his age as he hadn't since he was eighteen and discovered the fine art of staying up all night. He said so.

"Well," said Tarleton, "tonight you'd better rest up a little extra. Another party tomorrow night-it's the week- end."

Barton had never figured out the Tilaran "week"- for one thing, it was not of fixed length. The weekend concept was simple enough, though-party time.

"Yeh, wow," he said. "Okay-I'll get braced for it."

"Get braced for more than that."

"Oh? What else?"

"Tomorrow I am allowed to meet the Ormthan."