closed slowly on Hishtoo. The readouts varied; some in- dicated that the Demu would be overtaken in space;

others showed him grounding with impunity.

"He does not keep constant deceleration," Abdul said.

"He may be changing it, cut-and-try as you say, as his own computers show his course overrunning or falling short."

"Maybe that's where he's weak," said Barton. "If he's never had to make a speed run before, he's having to figure it out the hard way. That could help us."

When Barton told how it had gone between him and Alene, Limila looked thoughtful. "She knows, of course, that I would not begrudge. She was with you, once, when I could not be. So now that she has no other . . ."

Barton quoted Alene on the subject of lousy excuses.

"No, honey; it's nothing to do with restrictive morals or anything. This is strictly her own mind. Declaring in- dependence, I think."

He wasn't sure he'd made it clear, but Limila nodded.

"Then that is good." She went silent, and looked sidelong at him. "New subject, as you sometimes say. I have progress to show. Look and feet, both." One hand ex- tracted her Tilaran-styled dentures; she opened her mouth. Barton looked; sure enough, here and there, the tips of new teeth showed. And his hesitant finger traced the ridges of bumps that hadn't parted yet. Seemed straight enough, he thought, the whole set of alignments.

He nodded, and waited while she put her mouth back together. Then he said, "Any trouble yet, teeth interfering with the plates?"

She shook her head, "Oh, no-and not .for a time yet.

As I said, the flexible elastic lining-there will be, I was told, only a brief period of real inconvenience. And it is much too soon for that."

"Well, good. Glad to see that things are working so well." They better had, too-because Barton purely had no idea how to handle the problems of a teething adult.

He hoped he wouldn't have to.

On day-50, seventeen days after turnover and fourteen short of Sisshain, Barton took the last half of Myra Hake's watch. "I have stuff to run through Tinhead, so I may as well take the duty, too. Go get drunk, huh?"

She shook the bangs away from her eyes, and smiled.

281.

"Well, not exactly. But maybe Cheng and I will take a few practice swings." She left with a light step. Barton exchanged greetings with Abdut, who was holding down pilot watch, and set to work.

An hour later he had all the answers he was going to get, and turned to Abdul. "The beast still can't teH me whether we catch Hishtoo. Well, I'll try it again tomor- row."

Abdul's reply, he didn't expect. "It is good that you have solved the problem of Alene Grover."

Well, the serve's in your court, Barton. Return it.

"How's that?"

"As in the olden days, with my people. When the mate of friend or brother was quite naturally entitled to com- fort and support, approved by all. It is good to see the ways of my ancestors found worthy by others." Abdul cleared his throat. "Had it not been for my agreement with my wife, I myself would have been glad to cherish Alene.

For she is a splendid person, is she not?"

"Right," Barton growled. "But don't tell me; tell her."

"Did you not tell her for me? My regrets?"

Exasperated, Barton gave a snort. "Not the same thing.

Abdul, don't you have some common sense to go with your brains and good looks?"

After a pause, Abdul Muhammed smiled. "Your words are harsh, but your face is not- But very well. It will be difficult to speak so to Alene, but at the first opportunity I will do so."

"First opportunity in private. Tust the two of you."

"Oh? Very well; you know your own people best, I suppose."

Somehow the conversation had gotten totally off track. Barton thought, and said, "You've got one thing wrong, Abdul. All I did with Alene was talk. The rest of it, that she can get along without any of us, she figured out all by herself."

Down, down the galactic Arm. Barton felt a malaise of no apparent cause. He recognized it, though-it was the same unease that had plagued him throughout his years at the Demu research station. Then. he had thought it the natural result of being caged like an animal. Ap- parently, there was more to it, than that . , .

He spoke of it to Limila. "Oh, yes," she said. "It is known to us. You see. Barton ..."

282.

He understood most of what she said. He knew that spiral arms are spiral because in the nature of things, outer orbits are slower than inner orbits. So what she was telling him, he decided, was that he was uncomfortable, "down here," because with respect to angular momentum, his moment of inertia didn't feel at home.

That discussion sparked another. In her explanation, Limila quoted Tevana, and now Barton remembered the talk he had had with Tevann-how many days ago?

And how to ask-to change the subject? But she was his most needful person, and he wanted to know.

"Limila," he said, "I just recalled something Tevann told me."

"Yes, Barton?"

"About your children. You had never mentioned them. Why didn't we see them? Or did you?*'

"But no. They live far from where we were. One is on Chaleen, another of our worlds. All are grown-two have children of their own, Tevann tells me. But there was not time to arrange travel and visits. Barton-you must know that. Tevann promised to send messages, to tell them I am alive. More must wait for our return."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "But why. Barton, if you were puzzled, did you not ask before?"

He didn't answer; he was too busy thinking. She'd handed him more than he had asked for-that was for sure. Limila a grandmother? Well, what was wrong with that? He knew Earthwomen who'd achieved that status by the age of thirty-five, or less. But now he was curious about something else.

"Limila-how old are you?"

"In your years? Your numbers? I must think." She frowned. "Oh . . . not greatly more than eighty. I would guess."

"Eighty? But you're a young woman. With us, eighty is-old."

"With us, too, of nature. Barton. But with the treat- ments to stabilize metabolism, we live long and are young for long. It is strange we have not talked before of these things, but I thought-you do not have such treatments on Earth?"

"No." I will grow old, thought Barton-and she will not.

"When we return to Tilara," she said, "you must have the treatments."

283.

"Yes-maybe." If they worked, for Earthani. Barton blue-funked. He didn't know why Limila's revelations bothered him so much, but they sure as hell did. "*

Nearly a week it took him, to shake off the effects and regain-mostly-his normal spirits.

Down the Arm. Day-60-on the screen showed three dots of light. Two of them-close together and slowly closing-rapidly approached the more-distant third: