Nick stumbled to his feet, groaning and rubbing his hip.
“Now it’s your turn to line up,” Father Roolik said. He inspected them one by one at gunpoint. When he reached Hali his little hole of a mouth made gulping motions, a sign of excitement in Rooliks.
“My, my, my, what have we here? A wavishing alien cweature. What planet do you call home, my dear?”
“That, sir,” Hali replied, “is none of your damn business.”
The Roolik stepped back and considered her, rubbing his chin with a free tentacle.
“I’ve seen your face,” he said thoughtfully. “But of course! You’re the Alta-Tybewian. You’re the one who helped her escape, the senator’s son. And you must be the police chief’s daughter. I’ve seen tapes of you on the holovision. You must have wanted my camper for your getaway—am I wight?”
“Brilliant,” Nick said.
“Isn’t this exciting?” the Roolik said to his wife. “We’re involved with despewate cwiminals! Get the camewa.”
Obediently she disappeared into the saucer and returned a few seconds later with a split-beam holosnapper. Father Roolik made a series of what Nick imagined were considered ferocious faces while Mother Roolik snapped picture after picture. Then Father Roolik posed the children with carefully coached looks of terror.
“What about me?” Grandma cackled. “I’m the one who knocked him down, why don’t I get in any of the pictures?”
“How many times do I have to explain to you?” Father Roolik said, exasperated. “You’re dead and dead people don’t photograph well.”
But she kept complaining and finally Father Roolik allowed Mother Roolik to snap Grandma posing with the three captives.
“Look,” Nick said wearily, when Mother Roolik started on her second role of film, “why don’t you just give us to the police and get it over with? The press will take plenty of pictures of you.”
“Because,” the Roolik said, “I’m not so sure that’s what I want to do. Mow’d you like to make a deal?”
How’d you like to make a deal? Impossible to talk to a Roolik for more than five minutes without that phrase coming up.
“We don't have any money,” Nick said.
“I don’t want money,” the Roolik said. He snaked a tentacle in Hali’s direction. “I want her.”
“Out of the question,” Nick said.
“Why don’t you let the lady make up her own mind? One night together—and in the morning I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Furthermowe, I pwomise not to say a word to the authowities.” The Roolik turned to Hali and continued, “Ever make it with a Woolik? We can be a lot of fun. Of course I'll want my wife to holotape the whole expewience. It might be vewy educational for the kids too.”
“I’ll break your fucking neck,” Nick said.
Hali restrained him. “Nicholas, simply because we are lovers, this does not mean you own me. It is my body and my property to do with as I see fit. I believe this would be a very small sacrifice for a very great reward.”
“She’s a wise one,” the Roolik said.
“I won’t let you do it,” Nick said.
“It's my decision,” Hali insisted, ‘ and I’ve decided that . . .” “Yes?”
“That I must think it over.”
“You may have until midnight,” Father Roolik said. “Wap on the saucer door and give me your decision. In the meantime you may do as you like. I'll take care of this.” This was the nerve gun, which he stuck into the elastic waistband of his tights.
The Roolik family climbed into the saucer, father bringing up the rear. “I'll be counting the hours till midnight,” he called, before closing the hatch.
“Fucking Rooliks,” Nick muttered. He kicked a stone with his toe. “He’s not going to lay a tentacle on you.”
“Nicholas! It is my decision.”
Discussion was suspended while they gathered Brinko fruit and empty shells filled with rainwater. Then they sat under the palm tree which was “home” for them on the island, to eat and to listen to Nick’s description of his adventures behind the transdimensional window. As he talked, Nick couldn’t help but wonder at the change which had come over Althea since her failed escape. No longer was she the vain, conceited little girl who could not pass a mirror without lingering to regard herself from every different angle, who would not raise a finger to help another without some tangible, immediate reward in the offing.
When he came to the part of the story about Johnny Quog declaring himself emperor, Althea was deeply upset; her father, Chief Clinger, was one of Quog’s staunchest supporters. Most teenage girls would sooner die than admit their fathers to be capable of wrongdoing. Nick made it easier by suggesting that Chief Clinger probably had no idea what Quog was planning; perhaps Quog himself had not yet thought of it. After all, they were dealing with a future which did not yet exist.
At twenty-three hours by Nick’s wristwatch, Althea yawned and excused herself. She had been sleeping beneath a second palm grove, near enough to scream for help if need be, far enough away to assure Nick and Hali their privacy.
Now that they were alone, and with only one hour until midnight, Nick began to argue. He pleaded with her not to meet the Roolik, then he forbade it. He said that if she wanted to go then she couldn’t really love him; silly, since obviously the opposite was the case. Finally at a loss for words, he put his arms around her and held her tight. For some time she struggled to get loose, banging his chest with her fists— rather gently it seemed—but then her blows turned to caresses.
After they had finished making love she asked, “Why is it that humans, who have nothing but contempt for every other alien species, bear such respect for the Rooliks? I find Rooliks to be mercenary, exploitive, materialistic and cruel.”
“We recognize in Rooliks,” Nick replied, “ourselves.”
III
Nick had been sitting outside the saucer for some time next morning before the landing ramp whirred softly to the ground. A moment later the Roolik appeared wearing a bathrobe, holding the nerve gun in one tentacle, a cup of stimu-caff in another and the best-selling microfiche (a scandalous novel about a Lifestyler with an insatiable appetite for young female Supplicants) in the third.
Nick met him at the foot of the ramp.
“Did you sleep well?” the Roolik said.
“Cut the crap and let’s get going. We’re ready.”
“What’s the huwwy? Have some bweakfast with us. After a night like last 1 need my pwotein.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was one of the finest nights of lovemaking I’ve ever ex-pewienced.” He looked dreamily off into space. “I can’t wait to watch the films of it.”
“What?” Nick said. He had been up nearly all night with Hali. Was it possible that at some point he had drifted off to sleep, that she had stolen from his side in the moonlight and gone to the Roolik's bed? He tried to remember.
“Good morning, Nicky.”
Althea was standing at the top of the ramp, wearing a matching bathrobe. Her hair was clean and lustrous; apparently she had showered.
“Ah, my little love nut,” the Roolik said, turning to face her. “You awe a late sleeper.”
The tentacle holding the stimu-caff put down its cup. The tip of it snaked once around her waist and probed the opening of her bathrobe.
“Stop it!” she shrieked, yanking the squirming thing away. Hurriedly she regained her composure and. shaping her mouth into a loving smile, murmured, “You tired me out, darling.”
Nick noticed the rings under her eyes.
“When she came to the saucer,” the Roolik continued, “in place of the Alta-Tybewian, I was dweadfully disappointed. I wanted to send her away and forget the whole thing, but she was persuasive. Now I’m glad I didn’t—awen’t you, my little love nut?”