She looked at t.i.tus without any of the flirtation she had always shown him. "Would you like me to go with you to H'lim's apartment?"

She seemed wholly disinterested. Overwhelmed with pity, t.i.tus said, "No, no. I know where it is."

"All right." It took a moment for her to gather strength, then's bid them au revoir and slipped out the door just as a man and a woman were preparing to jockey a long workbench into the room. Seeing t.i.tus and H'lim, the man knocked and called out, "Ready for this yet?"

All yours," said t.i.tus. "We were just leaving."

They squeezed past the obstruction and the guards fell in jd them leaving them no privacy to talk until they reached le apartment. t.i.tus didn't want to risk cloaking their words for r someone might discover how the guards, walking close, ""dn't remember anything that had been said.

Wh they opened the door, they found an apartment much like t.i.tus's, but done in stark black and white, with a gray carpet. The kitchenette had black marble and gold fixtures, and there were some African paintings on the walls. H'lim winced at his first sight of the place.

"Is black and white offensive to you?" asked t.i.tus.

"No. Oh no, it's fine." He moved his hand across the threshold barrier as if pushing through mola.s.ses. "I will work to make a home of it. Meanwhile, won't you please come in?" He uttered the polite phrase with stiff but proper intonation, so proper that t.i.tus almost laughed when H'lim peeked at him to see if he'd done it right.

"Thank you very much," intoned t.i.tus with a bow and crossed the threshold, closing the door on the guards.

The few personal possessions H'lim had acquired were piled on the bed beside folded sheets and blankets. The wires from the field generator Abbot had built were tangled but unbroken.

As they untangled the mess, made the bed, and t.i.tus showed H'lim how everything worked, t.i.tus asked, "Do you think your people would give me as much as Colby has given you? I mean, positions reversed."

"Possibly. Colby is an unusually courageous individual. I'm awed by her boldness."

"I think she's hoping that if you do get home, you'll remember how you were accepted here and say a few good words for Earth's humans."

"Of course. Positions reversed, there would be no compelling reason for those in authority to seek your good opinion. So the situation wouldn't be the same."

t.i.tus seized on that new datum. "Why wouldn't luren out there value our good opinion of them?"

"I thought that was obvious. You have only one little planet, and so far I've seen nothing much worth trading for except art curios. Should Earth decide not to trade, it would be little loss. However, we have many planets full of things you could use and a wealth of technology you don't have yet. In that situation, how would humans behave? Wouldn't one group be more eager than the other?"

"Well, if we have nothing the galaxy would want, why should we bother trying to communicate?"

"I'm only one person and I've seen little of this world. Perhaps your world has commercial potential it would take experts to discover. Where there's a chance of profit, such experts will come and search hard to open a new market. But there are strict laws to protect newly contacted cultures. Mirelle has told me your world has already doc.u.mented the vulnerability of cultures in a mismatched relationship. Surely you can understand-"

t.i.tus interrupted, suddenly realizing how smoothly he'd been led away from his question. "Of course I do, but you're not being totally honest, H'lim. You're intent on going home, but you don't want to be a.s.sociated with us-with Earth's lurena" after that. And I want to know why."

"Don't be too hasty," cautioned H'lim as he surveyed the bathroom. "Earth's luren could be a market for my orl."

"Not big enough to matter."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I tell you one thing that makes me uncomfortable. Mirelle. She wears an orl-mark and acts like a teacher. She's Dr. de Lisle sent to teach me of human communication and she wears an orl-mark which isn't mine."

"Does that make you hungry?"

"Hungry? I'm always hungry. But not for humans. I've traveled widely, t.i.tus, but I've never run into anything that discomforted me so. I think I would sell you orl at a loss, just so I could feel good about myself again."

He did it again, thought t.i.tus as he wanted to ask what H'lim would accept in payment-art curios? "Selling us orl wouldn't compromise your position in the galaxy?"

"What?" H'lim seemed genuinely confused, and not just because he'd turned his attention to his new console.

"You are reluctant to be a.s.sociated with us, yet you'd sell us orl?"

"Hypothetically, t.i.tus, hypothetically. In reality, Earth's trade status will be decided by law as will the status of Earth's luren. It's a complex matter, and I'm not qualified to try to explain it. Those whose profession it is to integrate new worlds into galactic trade have equations to calculate how much contact a culture can stand, how quickly, what products, what sequences. As a merchant, I look up what I may sell and what I may buy with it on any given world. I don't always try to understand why this and not that. But I do understand my own field and how to introduce it to new cultures. I make good money as a consultant in such matters, and we're usually first on the scene."

And again! marveled t.i.tus and retreated, knowing when he'd been bested. "We should go back and see how the lab's coming."

"Wait," said H'lim. "What's this?" He bent over his vidcom. The screen showed a tricolor graphic of a stomping bull against the stars.

t.i.tus leaned over his shoulder. "Inea's playing games." He told of her demonstration program, then made some suggestions. Inea got the signal and responded. They spent a few hours troubleshooting connections and teaching H'lim the remote commands he had available. In the course of this, they discovered the central files Colby had a.s.signed for H'lim's use, and t.i.tus began showing him what records a department head was responsible for keeping.

"I think Dr. Colby was right. I need a secretary."

Using the link, t.i.tus found out that Abbot was almost through supervising the setup of the lab, and told Inea to go get some dinner and meet him at his apartment to discuss the reports Colby wanted tomorrow. Then he escorted H'lim back to his lab and left him with Abbot, not without some trepidation. But Mihelich was also there, along with an ever-changing mob of technicians. Can't be with him every minute, he told himself and bid them good evening.

He stopped by the refectory nearest home and picked up a dinner tray, one much lighter than usual. Already the rationing program was cutting allotments.

When he arrived at his own apartment, he found Inea swabbing out the microwave, her own refectory tray on the table.

"Ought to do this more often," she said, pushing a wisp of hair back with her wrist.

He took the towel and pushed a chair behind her knees. "You're exhausted. I'll do that. It's my stinking mess after all. You're right. Shouldn't let it get this bad."

She dropped into the chair, yielding the ch.o.r.e to him but saying, "I'm not as tired as Mirelle. That woman's out on her feet. And it's not just from following H'lim around."

t.i.tus whipped his head around. Her eyes were closed. She didn't see his reaction. He stuck his head into the microwave looking for a way to pull the roof of the cavity out for cleaning. "I didn't know you realized H'lim is drawing ectoplasm from everyone around him."

"You as much as told me so. Besides, he's draining to be with. Not like you. You're stimulating."

"I keep telling you. You can't just feed me. You must accept my gift in return. H'lim can't offer, but he's starving."

"But Abbot's not starving, and he has s.e.x with Mirelle. Why's she looking like a corpse?"

He got the top loose and stuck it in the sink with the other parts that needed soaking, resolving never to try reheating blood again. Concentrating, t.i.tus rinsed and replaced the parts. At least rationing hadn't tightened the water allowance. The recyclers were efficient enough.

"t.i.tus, you're not answering me."

"He's taking too much of her blood. He doesn't have enough stringers, and apparently he likes Mirelle."

"That's how he treats people he likes?"

"Yes. It is."

After a long silence during which t.i.tus heated himself some water, she said, "That's why you left him."

"Yes."

He heard the tone of his voice and wasn't surprised when she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, Inea. But nothing's-simple-anymore."

"I know what you mean."

"No you don't. Inea, you came to me because I convinced you of my loyalties. I'm not so sure they're so solid as I thought. Maybe-maybe I'm not human. Maybe you have been sleeping with an alien from outer s.p.a.ce after all and not the boy next door you were about to marry. I just don't know!"

Her mouth fell open.

The microwave bleeped. The painful silence held t.i.tus rigid until the echo died away. Feeling as if his body would shatter, he forced himself to extract the pitcher of water, dump in half a packet of crystals and stack both plates of food in the microwave. Punching up a reheat, he said, "From now on, you'll eat my rations so I don't have to discard scarce food." What does a microwave sound like to H'lim?

She still hadn't breathed a word, and he felt as if her eyes were boring holes in his back. He fled into the bathroom to hunt for the supply of supplements he'd brought in case he needed stringers for blood. Connie had insisted. He had to ransack the medicine chest because he'd forgotten what they were disguised as. Some secret agent!

When he returned, Inea was clutching the pitcher to her breast, bent over it protectively. It took a moment for him to realize that she was crying. Eyes closed, wooden-faced, almost not breathing, she sat with tears dripping from her chin into the pitcher.

He felt more helpless than he ever had before in his life. Me and my big mouth.

He brought his gla.s.s over to the table and took the pitcher from her hands, pressing the bottle of pills into her palm as she raised streaming eyes to him. "These are for Mirelle, if you can get her to take them without anyone else knowing-not even Abbot. Especially not Abbot."

She swallowed hard, blinking at the bottle dazedly.

"Ignore the label. It's a supplement specially designed to replenish blood. Just vitamins, nothing like what H'lim's been talking about."

Unaccountably embarra.s.sed by her silence, he poured blood into his gla.s.s and drank it down, praying for the microwave to bleep. He could taste her tears in the diluted blood and the acrid tang of her pain. Almost gagging, he poured another gla.s.s before it got cold.

Tear-choked, she rasped, "Why?" and shook the bottle.

Why? Because he couldn't stand to see Inea suffer? Because he'd wanted Mirelle himself? Because he hated Abbot? Or because of the inexorable physical bond to his father that made him unable to stand to see Abbot starving?

He turned to inspect the microwave timer. "Because I trust you with my life, with the lives of all Earth's luren. Because I'm confused. I don't know whether H'lim is lying about everything or only some things. Because I don't know whether I really ought to stop Abbot's message. Will Earth's luren be more likely to survive if Abbot's message is sent, or not sent? Should we survive at all? It used to be such a simple issue! Now, I just don't know. Only one thing is certain. Whether Earth's luren live or die should be decided by Earth's humans-victims and volunteers alike. Have we taken more than we've given Earth? Or have we given more than we've taken? Considering what we take and how we take it, does it even matter whether we pay our way or not?"

He faced her. "Inea, if anyone discovers what's in that bottle and that you're feeding it to Mirelle, they'll find out why she needs it, which will expose Abbot's use of her. Abbot's right. Now that humans know about H'lim's physiology, the smallest clue will reveal our existence."

"Then why's he still using her like that?"

"He has no other choice. He's probably able to fake her tests so they can't trace his Influence, but he couldn't fake them for his whole string, so he's leaning on her too hard. He probably thinks he can complete his mission before he's discovered and before Mirelle collapses."

She shook the bottle. "This would give him more time. It would help him. t.i.tus, I don't want to help him."

The accusation that he did was etched in the air between hem. The microwave finally bleeped. t.i.tus ignored it. "I don't know whether I do or not."

You're copping out. You're leaving it up to me."

That stung. But it was true.

"Your mind isn't working because you've been starving yourself, living on half rations to feed H'lim." She shook the bottle. "If this would work for Mirelle, it would work for me, too. With some real blood in you, you could figure out which way was up. After all, you're a brilliant astrophysicist. This isn't such a difficult problem."

"I'd rather write a whole new cosmogony. It'd be simpler to decide that stars are born under cabbage plants."

She burst out laughing, a free, musical sound that delighted the ears. t.i.tus hadn't meant it as a joke, but all at once it seemed very funny.

Their voices harmonized, and he reveled in the purely physical sensation until silence wrapped them together. After a moment, Inea took the pitcher from the table and came to refill his gla.s.s. "I meant it. You'll never beat Abbot when he's fed and you're half starved. Until Andre comes across with that orl blood, take some of mine. I haven't given to the blood bank in weeks. I can afford it."

"I can't. It's addictive."

"You broke it when you left Abbot. You can do it again. Right now, you and I have to best Abbot or die trying. That's what I know and that's all I know."

"It's not enough. You heard H'lim. He intends to go home, no matter what. And I think he knows what damage he'll be doing to us. He doesn't care, though. That makes him not a whole lot better than Abbot. Which means that besting Abbot won't help unless we also best World Sovereignties. Should we join the secessionists?"

"t.i.tus! That's treason! And we're at war."

He held the gla.s.s up between them. "Treason? What's drinking human blood, then? Loyalty? Respect?"

"Do you hate yourself?"

"Sometimes. When I'm tempted." He drained the gla.s.s.

Very quietly, she said, "You know, it really isn't up to us alone to make a judgment like this. Who are we to decide the fates of species and worlds?"

"Who is anybody to make decisions that affect others?"

She frowned. "Are you drunk? Maudlin drunk?"

"Maybe a little." He stared at the gla.s.s. A victim's blood alcohol had never made him drunk. Now, the bitter dregs of Inea's tears were affecting him. Like alcohol on an empty stomach. He set the gla.s.s aside. "The moment I suspected what Abbot would try next, I ran to stop him. And I don't know why. If I was merely following orders, then I'm no better than the worst humanity has ever produced. I don't feel good about myself for following orders blindly. I don't feel good about myself for opposing my father and my son. What luren could? Inea, let me feel good at least for helping Mirelle in what way I can, and for trusting at least one person, loving one person. I think I need that more than blood. It may be a pathetic gesture in the face of the real problems, but it's all I've got in me at the moment."

She studied his face. "It's physical, isn't it?"

"What?"

"This business of opposing your father. There's some kind of a real physical link between you that makes it impossible for you to fight him. It's not just law or custom or emotion-it's a profound physiological response."

"I think I explained that long ago."

"I didn't understand you meant it literally. You're like this now because a couple hours ago you threw yourself against him, and now you're somehow depleted inside. Your central nervous system's in shock and you can't think. Your self-esteem and sense of ident.i.ty have been almost extinguished. Abbot did that to you, didn't he?"

"Don't judge him too harshly. He could have killed me. Quite legally, too. Maybe exposure to H'lim is showing him that the Tourists' att.i.tudes aren't so honorable after all. Inea, just a few weeks ago, Abbot would have killed me instantly for such defiance. All through this, he's helped me out of tight spots. Maybe he's changing."

"Maybe it just wasn't politically expedient to kill you in front H'lim-who, after all, ended up defending you as well as defying you. If it comes to a choice between Abbot or H'lim, I'll Pick H'lim. He's a better man than Abbot, even though he may not have a human cell in his body. So just because you have luren in you, that doesn't mean you're worthless as a person." "And what if everything H'lim has told us is a lie?"

"In his place, would you tell the truth and die for it?"

"More likely I'd edit heavily and grit my teeth."

"H'lim, unlike Abbot, has a conscience, and his teeth are gritted to nubbins. If I have to choose, I pick H'lim."

"So you'll let Colby send H'lim's message." "

"Yes, but not Abbot. You were right. He'd cheat." "And what of Mirelle?"

"I'll slip her as many of these as I can-tell her they're for headaches. She's always cadging headache pills."