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There were others of the more refined strain of gorilla men. Salsbury noticed, his head hanging down over his rescuer's shoulder, brilliant showers of fireflies exploding on the surface of his eyes, obscuring his view of the new men. He could see, however, that they were dressed, unlike the half-men who had been torturing him. They wore high skin boots that came to their square, chiseled knees, and tight short pants of coarse material. They carried bows, quivers of arrows, and a sheathed knife each. The one who was carrying Victor had entrusted his weapons to one of his comrades. The others, however, were prepared for combat and maintained a constant, tense vigil to all sides, their weapons armed, whether for vacii or for the more daring and surly half-men, he did not know.

Then they were moving. He couldn't see anything for the hobbling and swaying of his head. All he could make out was that they were leaving the naked half-men behind and were going down, down, farther down each minute.

There was another firefly eruption in his head. Hundreds and thousands of flickering green lights. This time, he settled back and allowed them to swarm in on him as if they were hungry, blood-seeking mosquitoes. They blotted everything out and dazzled him with their brilliance. Then, strangely, the lights disappeared, and there was only a soft, murmuring bandage of nothingness about him.

Later, he came awake to find his rescuer holding his head up and rubbing the crushed petals of a rich purple flower beneath his nose. The odor made him gag, but it did bring him awake as was planned. He shook his head to make the stranger take the smelling salts away, then leaned back and realized he was in a chair! It was a well made piece of furniture, comfortable with cushions of dark fabric, and seemed to be stuffed with feathers or fur of some sort. This was the first sign of the artifacts of moderately civilized people, aside from the weapons and clothes he had already noticed in his groggy state. These people were more than slightly advanced above the naked half-men who had been trying to kill him.

“Perhaps I should have let you sleep,” the rescuer said, looking down on Salsbury with concern. “But this is a very important thing. I think, perhaps, it is our chance. We must make use of it as swiftly as possible. But if you feel like you must rest-”

“I'm okay,” Salsbury said.

“Good.” The creature smiled at others nearby, giving Victor a moment to survey the room. It was still a cave. They were farther down in the earth than before, for the walls were more solid, more of a piece, and there were no loose rocks. Despite the fact it was a cave, it was a relactively pleasant place. It was kept scrupulously clean. One of the walls was decorated with a mural that showed that artistic concepts here were modern, enlightened, far beyond all other cave art. Another wall was carved with shelves which held other pieces of work, mostly stone and wood sculpture, though one held a thatched strawpiece resembling a kneeling woman. Salsbury saw at once that the women of these half-men-or nine-tenths men- were closer his own idea of femininity than those of the naked half-men had been. Finally, he took in the fact that there were three other creatures seated in the room, all on chairs, some drinking out of wooden tumblers, others just biding their time.

“I'm Moog,” his rescuer said, turning back to him. “You are?”

“Vic.”

“It is a new name for me.”

“Victor is the full name.”

“Oh, yes! Some of the creatures of other probability lines in this area do shorten their names for convenience. Though I never fully understood why they weren't given the short names to begin with.”

“Could I have some water?” Salsbury asked, his words like stones rolling up the incline of his throat.

“I have something better,” Moog said. He went off for a moment, returned with a wooden mug.

Salsbury remembered the half-men's gruel. “Water would be fine.”

“Just try this.”

“I-”

“Please.”

Salsbury took the mug and sipped the fluid gingerly. It was not repulsive as he had feared. It was cool, smooth, sweet, much like apple cider, tangy but not alcoholic. He downed it in a few gulps and asked Moog to bring him more. This he sipped while he tried to fathom the events of the last few hours.

“There are many things I have to ask,” Moog said. “Perhaps the best way would be for you to tell us your story. That would be quicker, and nothing would be missed.”

“I don't know,” Victor said guardedly.

“We only wish to help. I think you badly need assistance. Am I wrong?”

“You are not wrong.”

“Begin, then. We are listening.”

Victor wondered if he should tell them the whole thing. Indeed, he did need help, and he could hardly expect them to give it unless they knew the story. He perceived that they were as sharp as he was, with IQ's every bit as high, though their civilization had not progressed as far as that on the Earthline he had come from. If he tried to hold out on them, they would reciprocate when it was his turn to ask questions. And it would help a great deal to know how Moog came to speak English, how he knew of the probability lines, why he was risking vacii anger by hiding Salsbury from them. He decided to be open. He told them the entire story.

When he was finished, Moog turned to the others and recounted Salsbury's tale in their tongue. There were questions, some of them which Moog relayed to Victor, others which he answered himself. In the end, the others were satisfied, and there was an air of excitement that was almost tangible.

“Now your story,” he said to Moog.

“Not half so interesting as yours.”

“Tell it anyway.”

Moog nodded and began.

The vacii had begun their invasion of Earth over a hundred years ago. It had lasted less than six hours. Some half-men had attacked the first vacii party and were summarily destroyed. The vacii moved in, took over, and had been established ever since. Recently, within the last thirty years, the vacii had discovered the presence of the first whole men in the half-man society. These were creatures like Moog who were born with softer features, higher foreheads, and IQ's ranging from a hundred-and-ten to a hundred-and-forty. At first, the half-men destroyed these more human children at birth, for they regarded them as freaks or visitations of the demons. But the vacii had started attending every birth and studiously rescued those babies and took them away.

One of the first of such new creatures was Moog. The vacii raised him in a strictly controlled environment. Their actions were not so much generous as more in the line of scientific curiosity. They had not spared him death from any idealistic philosophy about the value of intelligent life. The vacii had no such philosophies. They had rescued Moog and others like him solely for experimental purposes.

They taught him as much as they could about his world, and found that his IQ was one of the higher ones. He became a challenge for them. By the time he had reached his late teens, they had introduced him to as much technical information as he could accept. He was taught about the vacii culture, and he recognized it for the cold, emotionless thing it was, and despised it; he was a creature of emotions himself. They moved on, introducing him to the theory of probability lines, taking him on tours of some of the other worlds, teaching him languages. (A vacii linguist requisitioned him for an experiment in determining the verbal abilities of the newly intelligent species he represented.) He had learned English in this manner.

When he reached the age of twenty-four, six years ago, Moog was privy to a great many facets of vacii life. Because of this, he learned the eventual fate of vacii experimental animals. Two things might happen. One: the vacii might allow the test animal to live a natural lifespan if only to determine exactly what it could accomplish in that time. Two: they might terminate the experiment and perform an autopsy. This was enough to decide Moog's future for him. He could not stay in the starship. In addition to the constant fear he might be slated for dissection, there was the increasingly harsh nature of the regular vacii tests. “Survival experiments,” the vacii called them. They consisted of placing Moog in a particularly hostile position and then observing him saving himself. Although the aliens were undoubtedly obtaining much valuable data on the survival abilities of his species, Moog decided the pain he was enduring wasn't worth it. Since no experimental animal had tried to escape before, his plans met with little hitch. He broke free, along with two cohorts, and had remained free ever since.