Soon the surrounding air cars grouped to his right and departed. The twitchy lobster who had been Doktor Siewen came back to the screen. Barton spoke first.

"Now I want information. Lots of it. How much fuel time do I have in this kite? And look, Siewen, or whatever you are by now-tell him, don't anybody try to shit me about anything. Because, anybody gets tricky, nobody can stop me from using this bucket to kill myself. They know damn well I've been trying to do that for a long time. And there goes the Director's egg-child, whatever that means, right down the spout along with me. You got that straight?"

Siewen nodded, scuttled back to exchange shrill com- munications with the Director.

You may be the King of the Lobsters, thought Barton,

33.

but to me you're just one damned big overgrown craw- dad!

Siewen came back to face Barton. "It is not fuel, your problem," he saidL "Thirst and hunger, yes. You have no food or water. Barton. You must come in; I give you di- rections. Yes?"

Barton looked at the small comatose lobster beside him, and snorted. After all this time, these creatures still didnt realize what they had on their hands, what they had made of him.

For one thing, they were still trying to lie. Rummaging under his seat, he had found a container of liquid: about two quarts and nearly fulL It smelled as if it could be lobster piss and maybe it was, but probably it wouldn't kill him. No point in telling everything he knew, though, Barton thought.

"Where are you, Siewen? I don't mean me location, but what kind of place?"

"It is Director's office, of the research station. Also con- trol area for spaceship landing place just alongside. You can get here easily. Location device, bottom left switch, homes on signal beacon here. Small instrument." Siewen pointed; the thing looked like a portable radio. "Just watch on screen."

"Sure. Are there spaceships there?"

"Yes, several. Different sizes."

Barton told himself to be very, very cautious.^'Siewen.

has the Director ever been to Earth? Our Earth?"

"Oh yes," Siewen responded. "He was in charge of navigation on expedition picking ourselves up. But first time he or this group ever see humans or TUari, any of our type faumanoid. Some mistakes they made." You can say that again. Barton thought. But now he needed more facts, in a hurry.

"What's the smallest ship available that could get from here to Earth? How many does it take to handle such a ship? TELL THEM NOT TO LIE TO ME1"

'There is no cause to lie," Siewen said calmly. "A ship to carry eight is here; it could go twice to Earth and back;

one can control it But you are not to go to Earth, Barton.

You are to come here and become a citizen of the Demu.

Out of the mercy of the Director and his concern for his egg-child."

Deep in his throat Barton growled, not quite audibly.

"We'll see," be said. "Take that robe off, Siewen."

34.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it."

He had known all along. Barton thought wearily. He glanced perfunctorily at the feet, long enough to confirm that the little toes had been cut away back through the metatarsals to the heels, and that the toenails were miss- ing. The obliteration of body hair and nipples and navel was no shock, nor was the Demu pattern of abdominal dots. And of course the crotch was like that of a tree, or a lobster.

Siewen must have noticed Barton's gaze; one hand ten- tatively reached for that juncture, then drew back. "You don't understand," Siewen said. "They didn't know. I said, it was first time this group had to do with humans.

Only with other races, not like us. They didn't know."

"Sure not," said Barton.

"I don't really mind so, any more," Siewen said hur- riedly, "and they don't do that way now. They learned, some from observing you. Barton. Now they retain func- tion and only minimize protrusion. There is one here*

done so. I must show."

"Later!" Barton ground out. He didn't want to see any more examples of Demu surgical artistry for a while;

his will to live was shaken enough, as it was. "Just tell me one thing, will you? Why do they do these things?"

"Hard to understand, for us. But Demu are old race, very old. And for long long time they know of no others, intelligent. They have deep belief^ almost instinct, that 'Demu are the only true people. That all others are only animals."

"Well, haven't they learned better than that by now?

And what does that have to do with-your facelift, and everything?"

"When they meet long ago a race, animals they think, who leam Demu language, it is great shock. Animals be- ing people when only Demu are people. Demu cannot ac- cept- So they-this is only guess by me, you understand, but I think it is very good guess-so they when any animal learns-Demu language, make it Demu, best they can. As with me and others. They make mistakes; many die. I am lucky." Barton thought that was a matter of opinion. He didn't bother to say so.

He was still digesting what he had heard when Siewen's voice reminded him that this was no time for philosophiz- ing. He had things to do, fast, before the opposition

35.

caught its balance. He couldn*t afford to get off the main point.

"Barton!" Siewen began. "You must-"

"LATER1 Siewen, get your Director up front with you and translate for us. I'm in a hurry; tell him that;

don't either of you try to mess around with me. Now MOVE1".

Barton told them exactly what he wanted. They didn't believe him at first, and he supposed they would have laughed if a lobster knew how to laugh. But he persisted, figuring that he had an ace in the hole.

"Barton," said Siewen, "you are speaking useless. The Director will not give you a spaceship to go to Earth. No one can command the Demu."

"Does the Director want his egg-child back alive, or doesn't he?"

"Wants back, yes," Siewen acknowledged. "But at your price, no, Demu have died before and will die again." Ill drink to that, thought Barton. "Safe return of egg-child buys you life and citizenship among the Demu.

No more. I do not want to tell what will be done if you are taken alive and egg-child dead. Now see reason, Barton. You have tried well. You are admired for it, even. But now it is finish. You must come here and accept Director's terms."

"Want to bet?" thought Barton. But he said, 'Tell me one more thing, Siewen. Can the Demu regrow lost limbs? Like the lobsters back home?"

"No," said Siewen. "Why ask that?"