The computer man was looking closely at Brion, head tilted sideways to see his face. “You need transportation offworld?” he asked. “We’re the last ship at the port, and we’re going to boil out of here as soon as the rest of our cargo is aboard. We’ll give you a lift if you need it.”
Only by a tremendous effort at control did Brion conceal the destroying sorrow that overwhelmed him when he looked at that shattered wasteland, the graveyard of so many. “No,” he said. “That won’t be necessary. I’m in touch with the blockading fleet and they’ll pick me up before midnight.”
“You from Nyjord?” the purser growled.
“No,” Brion said, still only half aware of the men. “But there is trouble with my own ship.” He realized that they were looking intently at him, that he owed them some kind of explanation. “I thought I could find a way to stop the war. Now … I’m not so sure.” He hadn’t intended to be so frank with the spacemen, but the words had been uppermost in his thoughts and had simply slipped out.
The computer man started to say something, but his shipmate speared him in the side with his elbow. “We blast soon—and I don’t like the way these Disans are looking at us. The captain said to find out what caused the fire, then get the hell back. So let’s go.”
“Don’t miss your ship,” the computer man said to Brion, and he started for the pinnace. Then he hesitated and turned. “Sure there’s nothing we can do for you?”
Sorrow would accomplish nothing. Brion fought to sweep the dregs of emotion from his mind and to think clearly. “You can help me,” he said. “I could use a scalpel or any other surgical instrument you might have.” Lea would need those. Then he remembered Telt’s undelivered message. “Do you have a portable radio transceiver? I can pay you for it.”
The computer man vanished inside the rocket and reappeared a minute later with a small package. “There’s a scalpel and a magnetized tweezers in here—all I could find in the med kit. Hope they’ll do.” He reached inside and swung out the metal case of a self-contained transceiver. “Take this, it’s got plenty of range, even on the longer frequencies.”
He raised his hand at Brion’s offer to pay. “My donation,” he said. “If you can save this planet I’ll give you the whole pinnace as well. We’ll tell the captain we lost the radio in some trouble with the natives. Isn’t that right, Moneybags?” He prodded the purser in the chest with a finger that would have punched a hole through a weaker man.
“I read you loud and clear,” the purser said. “I’ll make out an invoice so stating, back in the ship.” They were both in the pinnace then, and Brion had to move fast to get clear of the takeoff blast.
A sense of obligation—the spacemen had felt it too. The realization of this raised Brion’s spirits a bit as he searched through the rubble for anything useful. He recognized part of a wall still standing as a corner of the laboratory. Poking through the ruins, he unearthed broken instruments and a single, battered case that had barely missed destruction. Inside was the binocular microscope, the right tube bent, its lenses cracked and obscured. The left eyepiece still seemed to be functioning. Brion carefully put it back in the case.
He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. These few pieces of equipment would have to do for the dissection. Watched suspiciously by the onlooking Disans, he started back to the warehouse. It was a long, circuitous walk, since he didn’t dare give any clues to his destination. Only when he was positive he had not been observed or followed did he slip through the building’s entrance, locking the door behind him.
Lea’s frightened eyes met his when he went into the office. “A friendly smile here among the cannibals,” she called. Her strained expression gave the lie to the cheeriness of her words. “What has happened? Since I woke up, the great stone face over there”—she pointed to Ulv—“has been telling me exactly nothing.”
“What’s the last thing you can remember?” Brion asked carefully. He didn’t want to tell her too much, lest this bring on the shock again. Ulv had shown great presence of mind in not talking to her.
“If you must know,” Lea said, “I remember quite a lot, Brion Brandd. I shan’t go into details, since this sort of thing is best kept from the natives. For the record then, I can recall going to sleep after you left. And nothing since then. It’s weird. I went to sleep in that lumpy hospital bed and woke up on this couch, feeling simply terrible. With him just sitting there and scowling at me. Won’t you please tell me what is going on?”
A partial truth was best, saving all of the details that he could for later. “The magter attacked the Foundation building,” he said. “They are getting angry at all offworlders now. You were still knocked out by a sleeping drug, so Ulv helped bring you here. It’s afternoon now—”
“Of the last day?” She sounded horrified. “While I’m playing Sleeping Beauty the world is coming to an end! Was anyone hurt in the attack? Or killed?”
“There were a number of casualties—and plenty of trouble,” Brion said. He had to get her off the subject. Walking over to the corpse, he threw back the cover from its face. “But this is more
