Titus puzzled over the words “teelee-odd” and “metajee”. Those were the only terms he could separate from the mass of the unfamiliar ones, and he realized that his own lack of a biological and biochemical vocabulary had left H’lim unable to think professionally in English. What other flaws had he left him with.“
What other communications problems lurked beneath the facade of normality?
Inea followed H’lim’s gaze and rose to fill a glass with the orl blood, returning with it cradled between her hands. H’lim tracked her movements with a quiet reverence then dragged his attention from the glass she held and asked Titus, “Did you tell her to do this?”
“No. It’s her own idea.” He wasn’t sure it was even a good idea, but he followed her reasoning and her heart, so he said nothing as H’lim savored the act of a sentient orl-a willing human. Ectoplasm carried a different texture when it was a deliberate, wholehearted gift.
He was curious to see how this would strike H’lim. But the luren didn’t reach for the proffered glass. He clasped trembling hands in his lap. “Titus, she wears your Mark.”
“Only to keep you or Abbot from taking what you will of her. She’s a human being, free to give what she chooses to whom she chooses. You’ve partaken of her gift before.”
“I don’t like being discussed in the third person.”
H’lim seemed perplexed, so Titus explained, “It’s impolite most places to ignore a person’s presence.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend-Inea, there’s no way I could ignore your pervasive presence. I would like very much to accept your gift.” He held his hands out just short of the glass waiting for her to place it in his grasp.
She breathed on it one last time, then put it in his hands, cupping hers about them. “This is so you’ll have the strength to find a way to feed Titus-and Abbot too. I just wish I could do more to help.”
Titus thought H’lim didn’t even hear her last words. His attention was riveted on the glass and he was shaking. When at last he drank the energized orl blood, the beatific expression on his face made Titus’s hunger surge like a trapped tiger. She is free
0 give as she chooses. Besides, damn it, she’s right!
Two weeks later, Titus was in the centrifuge with Abbot and H’lim. Colby had noted the drawn, haggard appearance both of them presented and had ordered them off duty to sleep, eat, and exercise. “I don’t care what the medical records show about you two, you’re both about to fall on your faces. You’ve each been doing the work of three men for months now. Nobody can sustain that kind of pace.”
She had gone on to warn them that a parts shipment for the probe vehicle would arrive soon, and then the pace would increase tenfold. “So I’m doubling your rations for a week, and taking you off the duty roster-except for escorting H’lim. If I catch either of you at work, I’ll commit you to the psych ward!”
Looking in the mirror, Titus couldn’t argue with her appraisal, only with her therapy regimen.
But he did need the time in the centrifuge, as did H’lim, who was willing to wear a special suit Abbot had made for him to attenuate the noise the centrifuge motors made. As uneasy as the centrifuge made Titus, especially the first time he’d gone in there after nearly being killed, it was worse for H’lim.
For the alien, they dimmed the lights, increased the gravity and adjusted the air mixture. Biomed invented half a dozen new telemetry sensors, and the physical therapists who ran the gym devised a new exercise machine to accommodate H’lim’s physique. When H’lim used the centrifuge, only Titus and Abbot stayed with him-and that was only after Abbot had reprogrammed the computers to show proper human stress patterns under the new conditions.
Actually, Titus enjoyed the changes. His body had to work harder, but afterwards he always felt better, especially when he spent some time sweating and straining on H’lim’s bicycle while H’lim jogged around the track.
The one great advantage about time spent in the centrifuge was that it was utterly private, so they could talk as they wished. The noise was great enough so that H’lim, working out on the opposite side of the drum, couldn’t hear Abbot and Titus, who were riding side by side on the ordinary bicycles, unless they shouted.
“Abbot, I’m sure of it,” Titus insisted in low, urgent tones. “He’s not telling all he knows. When you ask him anything truly important, he pours out data on other intriguing but irrelevant topics. He’s a master of the snow job.”
“Would have to be,” grunted Abbot, peddling hard, “to be a successful merchant in intragalactic trade.”
“Maybe,” conceded Titus. “Have you ever dealt with an Arab? They don’t cheat-not by their code-so they always come across as honest because they are satisfied that their honor is spotless. But there are certain things they don’t feel obligated to disclose, even if you ask. It’s your fault if you’re so naive as to believe what you want to believe.”
“H’lim is just protecting himself,” countered Abbot. “He explained that when he gets home, they’ll have ways of checking to see if he’s broken any laws. He’s not allowed to tell us everything. That’s for others, later.”
“Maybe, but I’m sure he’s withholding something crucial. If we knew it, we might not be so eager to send his message.”
“Oh, so that’s it. You’re still trying to convert me. Well, I might be willing to listen if you can show me another way for our people to survive. I don’t know why you keep losing sight of that single fact. We’re battling for our lives, and it’s now or never. Doesn’t the secession tell you anything about human attitudes?”
“What that message brings down on us may be worse than all the panicked humans on Earth. And I think H’lim knows it will be worse. Abbot, I like him, but I don’t trust him.”
Suddenly, his father turned to him with a most peculiar expression. After a bit, he observed, “That’s exactly how I felt about you a week after I revived you.”
Their eyes met. A momentary rapport flowed along Titus’s nerves like honey. He suddenly realized that part of his chronic hunger, the part Inea could never fulfill, was the deep need for his father’s approval. H’lim had said something about that, once. I’ve read that humans have no instincts. If this is true, it’s a point on which human and luren differ, for luren do have some important vestigial instincts. The parental power is one such. The gratification can sometimes be worth dying a final death.“
In that moment, Titus could believe it. When Abbot murmured, “I still like you, Titus,” he could see in his mind the contrast between this lined, haggard, and worn Abbot and the young, zestful, and immortal Abbot. It took all he had to dismount his bicycle and begin his job. He was able to regain his perspective only when he recalled, in gory detail, just how that young Abbot had taught him to feed. But the perspective decided to slip whenever his concentration did.
Five days later, Colby came to H’lim’s lab for the broadcast to Earth of a demonstration of his progress against Alzheimer’s Disease. The vaccine introduced decades ago on Earth had recently proven only partially effective, and now H’lim was close to being able to reverse the progress of the disease without wiping the patient’s brain clean of memory.
“Life in the galaxy,” lectured Dr. Sa’ar in a perfect Harvard accent, which he had not acquired from Titus, “has followed certain broad patterns. Earth belongs to one of those patterns, and so solving its problems does not require so very much original work as one might expect. This is one reason the Earth has nothing to fear from the infectious diseases of the galaxy. Most are analogous enough that your existing defenses are sufficient. The rest, you would encounter only if you travel widely, and in that case you will be properly immunized first.”