means unpleasant, acid odour was new to him. He wondered how humans smelt to the Overlords, and hoped for the best. There was nothing really anthropomorphic about Rashaverak. George could understand the way in which, if seen from a distance by ignorant, terrified savages, the Overlords could be mistaken for winged men, and so could have given rise, to the conventional portrait of the Devil. From as close as this, however, some of the illusion vanished. The little horns (what function did they serve? wondered George) were as per specification, but the body was neither like that of a man nor of any animal Earth had ever known. Coming from a totally alien evolutionary tree, the Overlords were neither mammals, insects, nor reptiles. It was not even certain that they were vertebrates: their hard, external armour might well be their only supporting framework.
Rashaverak's wings were folded so that George could not see them clearly, but his tail, looking like a piece of armoured hose-pipe, lay neatly curled under him. The famous barb was not so much an arrowhead as a large, flat diamond. Its purpose, it was now generally accepted, was to give stability in flight, like the tail-feathers of a bird. From scanty facts and suppositions such as these, scientists had concluded that the Overlords came from a world of low gravity and very dense atmosphere.
Rupert's voice suddenly bellowed from a concealed speaker.
“Jean! George! Where the hell are you hiding? Come down and join the party. People are beginning to talk.”
“Perhaps I'd better go too,” said Rashaverak, putting his book back on the shelf. He did that quite easily, without moving from the floor, and George noticed for the first time that he had two opposed thumbs, with five fingers between them. I'd hate to do arithmetic, George thought to himself, in a system based on fourteen.
Rashaverak getting to his feet was an impressive sight, and as the Overlord bent to avoid the ceiling it became obvious that, even if they were anxious to mix with human beings, the practical difficulties would be considerable.
Several more cargoes of guests had arrived in the last half hour, and the room was now quite crowded. Rashaverak's arrival made matters a good deal worse, because everyone in the adjacent rooms came running in to see him. Rupert was obviously very pleased with the sensation. Jean and George were much less gratified, as no one took any notice of them. Indeed, few people could see them, because they were standing behind the Overlord.
“Come over here, Rashy, and meet some of the folks,” shouted Rupert. “Sit on the divan—then you can stop scraping the ceiling.”
Rashaverak, his tail draped over his shoulder, moved across the room like an icebreaker worrying its way through a pack. As he sat down beside Rupert, the room seemed to become much larger again and George let out a sigh of relief.
“It gave me claustrophobia when he was standing. I wonder how Rupert got hold of him—this looks like being an interesting party.”
“Fancy Rupert addressing him like that, in public too. But he didn't seem to mind. It's all very peculiar.”
“I bet you he did mind. The trouble with Rupert Is that he likes to show oft; and he's got no tact. And that reminds me—some of those questions you asked!”
“Such as?”
“Well—'How long have you been here? 'How do you get on with Supervisor Karellen? 'Do you like it on Earth? Really, darling! You just don't talk to Overlords that way!”
“I don't see why not. It is about time someone did.”
Before the discussion could get acrimonious, they were accosted by the Shoenbergers and fission rapidly occurred. The girls went off in one direction to discuss Mrs. Boyce; the men went in another and did exactly the same thing, though from a different viewpoint. Benny Shoenberger, who was one of George's oldest friends, had a good deal of information on the subject.
“For heaven's sake don't tell anyone,” he said. “Ruth doesn't know this, but I introduced her to Rupert.”
“I think,” George remarked enviously, “that she's much too good for Rupert. However, it can't possibly last. She'll soon get fed up with him.” This thought seemed to cheer him considerably.
“Don't you believe it! Besides being a beauty, she's a really nice person. It's high time someone took charge of Rupert, and she's just the girl to do it.” Both Rupert and Maia were now sitting beside Rashaverak, receiving their guests in state. Rupert's parties seldom had any focal point, but usually consisted of half a dozen independent groups intent on their own affairs. This time, however, the whole gathering was polarized towards a centre of attraction.
George felt rather sorry for Maia. This should have been her day, but Rashaverak had partially eclipsed her.
“Look,” said George, nibbling at a sandwich. “How the devil has Rupert got hold of an Overlord? I've never heard of such a thing—but he seems to take it for granted. He never even mentioned it when he invited us.” Benny chuckled.
“Just another of his little surprises. You'd better ask him about it. But this isn't the first time it's happened, after all. Karellen's been to parties at the White House and Buckingham Palace, and—”
“Heck, that's different! Rupert's a perfectly ordinary citizen.”
“And maybe Rashaverak's a very minor Overlord. But you'd better ask them.”
“I will,” said George, “just as soon as I can get Rupert by himself.”
“Then you'll have to wait a long time.”
Benny was right, but as the party was now warming up it was easy to be patient. The slight paralysis which the appearance of Rashaverak had cast over the assembly had now vanished. There was still a small group around the Overlord, but elsewhere the usual fragmentation had taken place and everyone was behaving quite naturally. Sullivan, for example, was describing his latest submarine research to an interested audience.
“We're not sure, yet,” he said, “just how big they grow.
There's a canyon not far from our base where a real giant lives. I've caught a glimpse of it once, and I'd say that its tentacle-spread is the best part of thirty metres. I'm going in after it next week. Anyone like something really novel in the way of pets?”
There was a squeal of horror from one of the women.
“Ugh! It gives me the creeps just to think about it! You must be terribly brave.”
Sullivan looked quite surprised.
“I'd never thought about that,” he said. “Of course, I take suitable precautions, but I've never been in any real danger. The squids know that they can't eat me, and as long as I don't go too close they never take the slightest notice. Most sea-creatures leave you alone unless you interfere with them.”
“But surely,” someone asked, “sooner or later you're bound to run up against one that thinks you're edible?”
“Oh,” replied Sullivan airily, “that happens now and then.
I try not to hurt them, because after all I'm anxious to make friends. So I just turn the jets full on and it usually takes only a minute or two to pull free. If I'm too busy to stop and play, I may tickle them up with a couple of hundred volts. That settles the matter and they never bother me again.”
You certainly met some interesting people at Rupert's parties, thought George as he moved on to the next group. Rupert's literary tastes might be specialized, but his friendships were wide-ranging. Without bothering to turn his head, George could see a famous film producer, a minor poet, a mathematician, two actors, an atomic power engineer, a game warden, the editor of a weekly news magazine, a statistician from the World Bank, a violin virtuoso, a professor of anthropology and an astrophysicist. There were no other representatives of George's own profession, television studio design—which was a good thing, as he wanted to get away from shop. He loved his work; indeed, in this age, for the first time in human history, no one worked at tasks they did not like. But George was content to mentally lock the studio doors behind him at the end of the day.
He finally trapped Rupert in the kitchen, experimenting with drinks. It seemed a pity to bring him back to earth when he had such a far-away look in his eye, but George could be ruthless when necessary.
“Look here, Rupert,” he began, perching himself on the nearest table. “I think you owe us all some explanation.”
“Um,” said Rupert thoughtfully, rolling his tongue round his mouth. “Just a teeny bit too much gin, I'm afraid.”
