In the heavy silence that followed, the two men stared at one another.

Lors regarded his friend with matter-of-fact calmness, but Narvi's mouth was open in astonishment. The situation wasn't covered in the manual.

"Love," Narvi choked finally. "With an alien? You must be joking."

"I'm serious."

"That blow on the head must have been solid as a rock."

Thesa just stared, without speaking.

"Beth is a wonderful woman and I'm in love with her. If the blow on the head did that ... well then, I'm glad the ship cracked up."

"But, Lors! She's an alien! It's like a farmer, falling in love with his stock! It's crazy! You couldn't live on this planet the rest of your life, and she couldn't live with you!"

Lors shrugged.

"What about Jela," Narvi demanded swiftly.

He didn't answer him. Memories of the blond woman with the trim ankles, the slim waist and the large b.r.e.a.s.t.s floated back to him; memories of the many evenings they'd shared walking along the sand under the stars.

He sat there fingering the thoughts as they rolled past, without feeling anything. He was aware, finally, that Narvi was speaking to him.

"... know how you feel, Lors, but forget it. You could never work anything out. Go on back to Jela and forget about this alien. It doesn't matter how wonderful she is; probably nothing short of killing her husband would gain her for you."

Lors smiled thinly. "We can do that, too." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment "What did Imry do with Danson?"

"Nothing. He lives better than most s.p.a.cers. Since we are minus prisons on starships, Imry installed him in your quarters, under guard, of course. Commander Zark hasn't been able to figure out what to do with him, yet. That's what he wants to talk to you about."

"Have you a scout ship here?" Lors asked.

"Certainly. We use them to make reports. The Terrans would pick up the radio waves otherwise."

"How about a uniform?"

"You can borrow one of Thesa's. You'd never get into one of mine."

"Fine. As soon as I'm properly attired, we'll go see Zark." Grinning at Narvi, Lors followed Thesa into the bedroom for the uniform.

Later, dressed in the uniform of a Firsts.p.a.cer, Lors checked himself in the mirror of the bedroom making certain that he was properly dressed.

Trousers bloused neatly into the black, half boots, the yellow stripes perfectly aligned, the cuffs of the tunic fastened at his wrists and throat, the emblems of the 8th. Terran Command on the collar, the patch of rank on his left shoulder sleeve. Yes, he was all set. Precise.

He grinned at Thesa. "Feels good," he said.

The sandy haired s.p.a.cer handed him the black leather belt containing the auto-pistol and the cartridge belt. He buckled it on, feeling the familiar weight drag at his right hip.

"Okay?" Thesa asked.

Lors nodded. "Thanks for the loan," he said and went out to where Narvi, already dressed, awaited him.

"How's your head?" Narvi asked.

"Fine."

"Let's go, then."

They walked, wordlessly, out to the barn. The blond snapped on a small light near the scout ship and Lors went up close to examine it.

"Climb in," Narvi invited. "I have to scan the area and make sure no one will see the take-off."

Lors leaped to the c.o.c.kpit and opened the plastic-dome; he dropped lithely into the seat, his feet moving automatically to the rudder pedals, his hands impatiently fingering the controls. So much was coming back. So many remembrances with each second of time. He was _not_ Nicholas Howard Danson, and he had never been! He was Firsts.p.a.cer Lors of the 8th. Terran Command, and he felt his heart thrill to the knowledge of who he was and where he was. It was slow, this strange process of regaining his mind, but it was coming along. He would soon be whole again, no longer some freak caught in the vortex between two worlds.

"Ready?" Narvi asked, slipping into the seat beside him and pulling the c.o.c.kpit shield into place.

"Ready. Where's the starship?"

"Bearing 204.5, off-planet. We'll be there in no time."

The barn door swung open as Narvi started the scout ship and they moved out into the night, hovering a foot off the barn floor until they were outside.

Narvi conned the ship, working the verti-control expertly and the little craft whistled upward at a gentle speed. The radar screen before them disclosed no aircraft in the area. Narvi grinned at Lors and shoved the speed control forward, working the elevators with his other hand and the scout ship streaked into the night sky.

Home.

Lors, watching the screen, saw the oblong shape of the mother ship blurp into view and called out its position to his friend. At once, Narvi altered the course, whipping the scout ship onto a collision bearing.

When they were close enough, they used their signal and heard it answered.

The ship slipped in easily as the port opened in the starship's side.

Narvi guided the craft in with tender hands and settled it gently on the floor. A positioner hooked a line to the ship and pulled it quickly into the repair bins. A light winked in the wall. The area was again pressurized.

They climbed out and dropped to the floor as a crew of repair men went to work on the ship. Narvi slapped Lors on the arm.

"I'm going below for a drink. Join Me?"

Lors shook his head. "No, thanks. I might be down a bit later, but right now I'd best talk to the Commander."

"Right. Just don't tell him that you're thinking of jilting his only daughter for an alien, or he'll turn four different shades of purple."

Lors grinned and watched the big blond stride away to the elevator that would take him down to the bar on the first level. Then he walked off in the opposite direction, heading toward the forward end of the ship where he would find his "future" father-in-law, Commander Zark. s.p.a.cers, in the gleaming halls, saluted him in the traditional manner - a hand clasped to the hip that held their holstered auto-pistol - and it was a good feeling. He had almost forgotten.

The Commander's guards stopped him outside the door, but when he explained who he was and what he wanted, they nodded in unison. One of them pressed a b.u.t.ton which opened the door to the vestibule outside the Commander's office.

Lors stepped inside and the door hummed shut behind him. The vestibule was little more than a box-like room, containing a small visi-screen. He pressed the small, black b.u.t.ton at the base of the dark screen and kept his finger on it while the lines waved.

"Firsts.p.a.cer Lors to see the Commander," he said, as the rotund face of his future father-in-law waved and blurred into focus.

"Come in, Lors! Come in!" Zark's voice was a bellow of pleasure.

The heavy door swung open and Lors stepped into the room to click his heels and slap his right hand against the black holster before the Commander's desk.