would do as well as an armed guard.
Could this disease be financial in nature? Or (let's say it softly) is it political?
There was more, all in the same vein; Jill could see that Ben was deliberately baiting the administration, trying to force them to bring Smith out into the open. What that would accomplish she did not know, her own horizon not encompassing high politics and high finance. She felt, rather than knew, that Caxton was taking serious risk in challenging the established authorities, but she had no notion of the size of the danger, nor of what form it might take.
She thumbed through the rest of the paper. It was well loaded with follow-up stories on the return of the Champion. with pictures of Secretary General Douglas pinning medals on the crew, interviews with Captain van Tromp and other members of his brave company, pictures of Martians and Martian cities. There was very little about Smith, merely a medical bulletin that he was improving slowly but satisfactorily from the effects of his trip.
Ben came out and dropped some sheets of onion skin in her lap. 'Here's another newspaper you might like to see,' he remarked and left again.
Jill soon saw that the other 'newspaper' was a transcription of what her first wire had picked up. As typed out, it was marked 'First Voice,' 'Second Voice,' and so on, but Ben had gone back and written in names wherever he had been able to make attributions later. He had written across the top: 'All voices, identified or not, are masculine.'
Most of the items were of no interest. They simply showed that Smith had been fed, or washed, or massaged, and that each morning and afternoon he had been required to get up and exercise under the supervision of a voice identified as 'Doctor Nelson' and a second voice marked 'second doctor.' Jill decided that this must be Dr. Thaddeus.
But one longish passage had nothing to do with the physical care of the patient. Jill read it and reread it:
Doctor Nelson: How are you feeling, boy? Are you strong enough to talk for a while?
Smith: Yes.
Doctor Nelson: A man wants to talk to you.
Smith: (pause) Who? (Caxton had written in: All of Smith's speeches are preceded by long pauses, some longer than others.)
Nelson: This man is our great (untranscribable guttural word - Martian?). He is our oldest Old One. Will you talk with him?
Smith: (very long pause) I am great happy. The Old One will talk and I will listen and grow.
Nelson: No, no! He wants to ask you questions.
Smith: I cannot teach an Old One.
Nelson: The Old One wishes it. Will you let him ask you questions?
Smith: Yes.
(Background noises, short delay.)
Nelson: This way, sir. Uh, I have Doctor Mahmoud standing by, ready to translate for you.
Jill read 'New Voice.' Caxton had scratched this out and had written in: 'Secretary General Douglasilt'
Secretary General: I won't need him. You say Smith understands English.
Nelson: Well, yes and no, Your Excellency. He knows quite a number of words, but, as Mahmoud says, he doesn't have any cultural context to hang the words on. It can be rather confusing.
Secretary General: Oh, we'll get along all right, I'm sure. When I was a youngster I hitchhiked all through Brazil, without knowing a word of Portuguese when I started. Now, if you will just introduce us - then leave us alone.
Nelson: Sir? I think I had better stay with my patient.
Secretary General: Really, Doctor? I'm afraid I must insist. Sorry.
Nelson: And I am afraid that I must insist. Sorry, sir. Medical ethics-
Secretary General: (interrupting) As a lawyer, I know a little something of medical jurisprudence - so don't give me that 'medical ethics' mumbo-jumbo, really. Did this patient select you?
Nelson: Not exactly, but-
Secretary General: Just as I thought. Has he had any opportunity to make a choice of physicians? I doubt it. His present status is that of ward of the state. I am acting as his next of kin, defacto - and, you will find, de jure as well. I wish to interview him alone.
Nelson: (long pause, then very stiffly) If you put it that way, Your Excellency, I withdraw from the case.
Secretary General: Don't take it that way, Doctor; I didn't mean to get your back hair up. I'm not questioning your treatment. But you wouldn't try to keep a mother from seeing her son alone, now would you? Are you afraid that I might hurt him?
Nelson: No, but - Secretary General: Then what is your objection? Come now, introduce us and let's get on with it. This fussing may be upsetting your patient.
Nelson: Your Excellency, I will introduce you. Then you must select another doctor for your? ward.
Secretary General: I'm sorry, Doctor, I really am. I can't take that as final - we'll discuss it later. Now, if you please?
Nelson: Step over here, sir. Son, this is the man who wants to see you. Our great Old One.
Smith: (untranscribable)
Secretary General: What did he say?
Nelson: Sort of a respectful greeting. Mahmoud says it translates: 'I am only an egg.' More or less that, anyway. He used to use it on me. It's friendly. Son, talk man - talk.
Smith: Yes.
Nelson: And you had better use simple one-syllable words, if I may offer a last advice.
Secretary General: Oh, I will.
Nelson: Good-by, Your Excellency. Good-by, son.
Secretary General: Thanks, Doctor. See you later.
Secretary General: (continued) How do you feel?
Smith: Feel fine.
Secretary General: Good. Anything you want, just ask for it. We want you to be happy. Now I have something I want you to do for me. Can you write?
Smith: 'Write?' What is 'write?'
Secretary General: Well, your thumb print will do. I want to read a paper to you. This paper has a lot of lawyer talk, but stated simply it says that you agree that in leaving Mars you have abandoned - I mean, given up - any claims that you may have there. Understand me? You assign them in trust to the government.
Smith: (no answer)
Secretary General: Well, let's put it this way. You don't own Mars, do you?
Smith: (longish pause) I do not understand.
Secretary General: Mmm? let's try it this way. You want to stay here, don't you?
Smith: I do not know. I was sent by the Old Ones. (Long untranscribable speech, sounds like a bullfrog fighting a cat.)
Secretary General: Damn it, they should have taught him more English by now. See here, son, you don't have to worry about these things. Just let me have your thumb print here at the bottom of this page. Let me have your right hand. No, don't twist around that way. Hold still! I'm not going to hurt you? Doctor! Doctor Nelson!
Second Doctor: Yes, sir?
Secretary General: Get Doctor Nelson.
Second Doctor: Doctor Nelson? But he has left, sir. He said you took him off the case.
Secretary General: Nelson said that? Damn him! Well, do something. Give him artificial respiration. Give him a shot. Don't just stand there - can't you see the man is dying?
Second Doctor: I don't believe there is anything to be done, sir. Just let him alone until he comes out of it. That's what Doctor Nelson always did.
Secretary General: Blast Doctor Nelson!
The Secretary General's voice did not appear again, nor that of Doctor Nelson. Jill could guess, from gossip she had picked up around the hospital, that Smith had gone into one of his cataleptic withdrawals. There were only two
