"This one," said Hackett, "seems to have a rabbit's foot in wonderful working order! But I think he's dangerous."
"But why," insisted Lucy, "would Aldarians have ears if they can't hear? How could a bodily structure develop if it didn't work? How could a creature develop ears if it made no use of sounds?"
"I don't know," said Hackett. "The question's been raised before, privately, but not in public that I know of."
There was a little group of people beside the road. Others came running to join them from the town the highway now skirted. When the white convertible with the Aldarian driver went past, the people waved wildly. They cheered. Those who ran to join them waved and shouted too. It was easy to guess that the Aldarian was driving to rejoin his ship before it lifted off. And Aldarians were infinitely popular.
Through them—the Greks stayed in their ship, mostly—everybody in the world would presently be a millionaire. Food would be so plentiful that even the lavish living standard of America would be raised. Everybody would have everything he'd ever envied the rich for having. The Greks were providing this good fortune, but the Aldarians were its distributors. People liked them! Women said gushingly that they were cute, and men felt comfortably superior because they were deaf and had to communicate by writing. And they were friendly, and helpful, and they liked humans, whereas the Greks were merely distantly polite. And they made people feel creepy.
Half a mile on, another group of people waited. They waved and cheered as the Aldarian drove unskillfully past them. They laughed tolerantly at his incompetence. They liked him for trying to drive a human car. They applauded. Evidently one of the turned-off cars had telephoned ahead that an Aldarian was driving by, and people had come out to wave or shout warm and friendly greetings which the Aldarian could not hear.
But driving behind him was dangerous.
"It's practically a miracle," Hackett said coldly, as the divergations of the car ahead seemed to grow wilder, "that he hasn't crashed into something yet. But miracles don't go on forever, Lucy. He's going to be in the middle of a pile-up of cars presently, and I don't want you in it. So I'm turning off at the next side road."
"We may not be able to get back on the highway," she said, "but if you think we'd better—"
That was the instant it happened. An oil truck (lashed past on the other lane. It made the loudest of possible roarings. The Aldarian's car flinched away from it. It straightened out. Then three enormous trucks-and-trailers went bellowing by, tailgate to bumper. At each flashing appearance, the Aldarian flinched again. After the last, his right-hand wheels were off the concrete. He jerked the car crazily back on the road and went partly into the other lane. Something monstrous and howling plunged toward him. All his partly acquired responses went into action together. He swerved frantically to the right, jammed down the accelerator—
His car leaped crosswise off the road. It went into a ditch, careened and came out of it, and then, in the act of overturning, crashed violently into a tree.
Hackett had already reacted when the crash came. For a long while he'd been expecting some accident. Now he followed the white car instantly off the highway, steering with inspired accuracy. He hit the same ditch at the exactly right angle and bounced out of it with a monstrous crashing of springs. He had all four wheels in the air for part of a second, but then his car came to a grinding, locked-wheel stop not more than five feet from where the Aldarian had been thrown partly clear.
He was out in an instant. There was the smell of gasoline. A flame licked up. He scooped up the Aldarian in his arms. Lucy opened the rear-seat door. Hackett put the Aldarian on the cushions, snapped orders to Lucy—later he didn't remember what they'd been—and she jumped in beside the curiously crumpled figure. Hackett shot his car fiercely ahead just as the white car started really to burn.
Lucy said evenly, as the car lurched and swayed on the uneven ground, "He's not bleeding that I can see, but that's all I can see."
"You're a doctor, and it's not likely any other human doctor can do more. We'll have to get him to a hospital, fast! They may have equipment that'll do some good."
He drove on, on the shoulder of the road. He could see a fence ahead which might mark a feeder road joining the highway. He made for it as swiftly as he could.
Behind him there arose a wild, sky-shattering wail. The car that had followed him blew its horn violently to warn other cars behind it that something drastic had happened. Those other cars sounded their horns, and others behind them, to the horizon, set up a dismal din. But the traffic didn't stop. Moving cars near the now fiercely burning wreck only tried to speed up to get past it. Others speeded up as space opened before them. Perhaps fewer than a dozen cars actually knew what had happened. The rest only knew that a toppled white convertible blazed on its side by the highway.
Hackett braked and stopped at a house a quarter mile from the road. He banged on a door until it opened. He snapped explanations before it was fully ajar, demanding a telephone and the nearest hospital in one breath. He got the hospital on the phone, while all the occupants of the house ran to see an actual Aldarian at close quarters. While Hackett telephoned, Lucy made careful, tentative efforts to make the injured alien more comfortable.
Hackett came out. "There'll be motor cops coming to meet us," he said. "They're getting X-rays ready at the hospital, and they're getting in touch with the Grek ship, asking what to do first. There'll probably be a helicopter coming to take him to the ship for proper care."
He was in the car seat before he'd finished speaking. He eased the car into motion again, parting the small and sympathetic crowd, and headed away on the course he'd been given.
Once in motion he said, "How's he doing?"
"He's conscious," said Lucy, "and he has a heartbeat. But I don't know whether it's right or not. I can't know what it ought to be!"
"One good thing," said Hackett. "He's getting quick action! It'll be only minutes between the crash and the hospital."
He speeded up, easing the accelerator on curves and making the best possible time without shaking his passenger. It occurred to him that he and Lucy might have done some injury in moving the alien. But he'd had to be moved away. His car had begun to burn. There'd really been no choice.
Behind them, black smoke rose skyward. The traffic went on. Hackett's car raced on its way.
Motorcycle cops did meet them. And an ambulance. But Lucy pulled her professional status and insisted that the patient not be moved until he got to the hospital. He seemed as comfortable now as his situation permitted.
So Hackett followed a motorcycle cop, with other cops and the empty ambulance trailing him. He heard Lucy talking, in the back seat. The rear-view mirror showed her leaning over the Aldarian, speaking soothingly and reassuringly, even though he could not hear her. Once she gasped.
"What's up?" demanded Hackett, not slackening speed.
"He—spoke!" said Lucy. "He said—words! Words, Jim! I don't know what they meant, but—he said words!"
They came to a town. The motorbike sirens howled.
The small fleet of cars rushed through streets. They turned into a hospital's grounds. Hackett slowed smoothly and came to a jarless stop, and then there were agitated doctors and, it seemed, crowds of nurses.