She is of your kind, I think. I am not.'

Taking this in officiously, the man once more addressed him, offering his hand, which Kalus did not take. But he persisted. 'I'm Paul McIntyre, flight surgeon..... I'm a doctor, son. Won't you let me help your friend?'

But for all his relief and desire to yield, Kalus found it hard to let another man touch her, even in this simple way. Again the young woman interceded. She laid a soft and delicate hand on his, and looked him full in the face with brilliant, almond eyes, drawn to a gentle point at each corner.

'It's all right,' she said. 'You're among friends.

Won't you let us help you?' Her voice and manner were so alluring that for a moment he forgot all else. He looked down at Sylviana, half ashamed of what the Oriental had aroused in him, and said quietly.

'So long as you are gentle. I think she just needs rest.'

The doctor was already at work, lifting her off the hard roots to lean back against his thighs. Then reaching inside a black bag that he had brought, he broke open a pouch of smelling salts and moved it back and forth under her nose. Her head stirred, then turned away in distaste.

She regained full consciousness to find herself lying, literally, in the strange older man's lap. Forgetting that this was what her mind had sought, she cried out instinctively.

'Kalus!' And in a moment he was beside her. 'Kalus,' she pleaded. 'Is it all right? Are we safe here?' He looked hard at the doctor.

'Yes, my Sylviana. I think that we are.'

She studied the man once more. 'Is it true? Are you really with NASA? This isn't a dream?'

'Yes, I'm with NASA. Second manned expedition to Mars---we never made it. But there's time for all that later. Right now we're going to get some fluids into you, and give you something for the fever.

Then I'd prescribe bed rest, and a further examination. Young man, will you help me---'

But before he could finish the girl had turned her face into his stomach, and was crying like a child. He stroked her hair easily and naturally, speaking words of comfort and a.s.surance. As the man-child looked on and felt lost.

At length she grew quieter. Kalus lifted her in his willing arms, and despite all objections, carried her himself to a bed in the cool darkness of one of the huts.

Chapter 39

All that afternoon Sylviana remained in the hut, sleeping, drinking fruit juice, and luxuriating in the incredible comfort of a real bed.

Twice the doctor came in to check on her, and each time she made him sit down on the edge of the bed and talk to her, about what it didn't matter, just to hear his soothing voice that spoke of a world she knew and trusted, and to feel she was no longer alone: that it was all right to be a needing child. And after a time his words became like music, a lullaby, and she would slip back into untroubled sleep, her hand unconsciously resting on his. Then he would gently lift it and set it beside her, and smiling, rise to tell the others that she would be fine.

Kalus would have remained beside her door all day in silent watch, but they would not let him. Though all at the noon meal of the partly gathered colony were asked to let the newcomers be, by evening their curiosity could no longer be disciplined. He was asked to join them for supper, the first of the year to be eaten outdoors, and it was all but impossible to refuse.

So as the remaining men and women returned from their various labors---there were fourteen in all---Kalus took his place at the far end of the long table, not to distinguish himself, but because he did not wish to sit closely huddled among creatures he did not know. And though by all appearances they seemed the best that modern man had to offer (in fact they were), he could not help remembering the tales of human treachery that Sylviana had read to him; and half fearfully, half angrily, he kept waiting for some sign of it to surface.

But it never did. These people seemed to genuinely care about and support each other, and to respect his wish to be silent. And all would have gone well but for an incident which none could have foreseen, and for which Kalus himself could not be blamed.

Sylviana, hearing the sounds of conversation and real companionship, dressed herself quickly, and against doctor's orders, came out to join them. She was welcomed heartily, and given a place near the head of the table. And all seemed well enough.

But as the dishes were being cleared and those still seated began to push back their chairs and settle themselves more comfortably, Sylviana began to tell her story in abbreviated form. Then Kalus saw that the tall, straight man at the head of the table---their leader, he perceived---kept staring at her in growing agitation. In truth the look was not one of hunger, but of intense curiosity, and of a man racking his brains for some distant memory. But Kalus could not know this.

Finally the man interrupted her, saying plainly.

'Sylviana. What is your last name?'

To her amazement, she had to think for a moment. She hadn't used it for what seemed, and was, an eternity.

'Matheson.'

'And was your father Guy Matheson, the physiologist?'

'Yes! Did you know him?'

'Know him? Why girl, I even know YOU, though I'm sure you wouldn't remember. I worked with your father for the better part of a year, trying to smooth out some wrinkles in the cryogenics and life-support systems needed for longer, deep s.p.a.ce voyages. You were only eight or nine at the time, but I've thought of you at least a hundred times since, and wondered what became of you. There was such simple joy in everything you did.....'

And as a look of slow recognition and wonder came over the young woman's face, the normally reserved Mission Commander was overcome by emotion. He stood up, telling her to do the same. He moved closer, and embraced her heartily.

'Dear G.o.d, it's good to see you. To know that you're still alive.'

This was too much for Kalus. The chair on which he sat flew backward and the sword leapt from its sheath, in the upward swing knocking hard against the bottom of the table. Jolted, the company turned to face him, as to contain his animal pa.s.sion he took a step backward and breathed heavily. But the tip of his sword he pointed at the leader in a rage, saying with disciplined fire.

'LET HER GO.'

But none were more startled, or dismayed, than Sylviana. 'Kalus!'

she demanded, as if he were an errant child. 'Put the sword away.

Can't you see these people mean us no harm? This man was a friend of my father's. And of mine.'

He stood pale in the artificial light, his limbs trembling and his mind confused. He lowered the sword, and slowly realized that he had been a fool, and disgraced them both. He hung his head, and colored with shame.

'I'm sorry. I don't understand these things..... I am a wild, foolish man. But when you touched my woman---'

He looked up quickly, to find his worst fears confirmed. Sylviana had winced at being called his woman. He felt a part of himself dying.

Perhaps he overreacted, but it was what he truly felt.

'I am a fool. I will leave you.' But a firm voice broke him off, that of Kataya, the Oriental.

'NO,' she said. 'Don't ever apologize for who and what you are. Ever.' He looked up to see her standing. 'Commander Stenmark, and Sylviana, too, must share the blame for this.' There was a note of reproach in her voice, though she had not intended it.

'You reacted in the way your world has taught you, a world that none of us can know, and in which there is no shame. You are welcome among us, and you will stay.'

There was an awkward silence. Then the Commander, who was in fact their leader, remembered himself and spoke rea.s.suringly, voicing perhaps the sentiments of all.