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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79243 ***
+
+
+
+
+                        Death Between the Stars
+
+                        by Marion Zimmer Bradley
+
+
+  _We’ve had many requests for a sequel to Marion Zimmer Bradley’s
+  warmly human, unforgettably appealing little story_ JACKIE SEES A
+  STAR. _We’ll have to admit that she is keeping us in a state of
+  bitter frustration in that respect. But as if to salve our hurt she
+  has come up with a story as appealing in a somewhat different vein,
+  and we’re delightfully convinced it will entrance you._
+
+  =Sympathy may or may not be an invention of the human mind. But in
+  the gulfs between the stars it is likely to work a miracle. =
+
+
+
+
+They asked me about it, of course, before I boarded the starship. All
+through the Western sector of the Galaxy, few rules are stricter than
+the one dividing human from nonhuman, and the little Captain of the
+_Vesta_--he was Terran, too, and proud in the black leather of the
+Empire’s merchantman forces--hemmed and hawed about it, as much as was
+consistent with a spaceman’s dignity.
+
+“You see, Miss Vargas,” he explained, not once but as often as I would
+listen to him, “this is not, strictly speaking, a passenger ship at
+all. Our charter is only to carry cargo. But, under the terms of our
+franchise, we are required to transport an occasional passenger, from
+the more isolated planets where there is no regular passenger service.
+Our rules simply don’t permit us to discriminate, and the Theradin
+reserved a place on this ship for our last voyage.”
+
+He paused, and re-emphasized, “We have only the one passenger cabin,
+you see. We’re a cargo ship and we are not allowed to make any
+discrimination between our passengers.”
+
+He looked angry about it. Unfortunately, I’d run up against that
+attitude before. Some Terrans won’t travel on the same ship with
+nonhumans even when they’re isolated in separate ends of the ship.
+
+I understood his predicament, better than he thought. The Theradin
+seldom travel in space. No one could have foreseen that Haalvordhen,
+the Theradin from Samarra, who had lived on the forsaken planet of
+Deneb for eighteen of its cycles, would have chosen this particular
+flight to go back to its own world.
+
+At the same time, I had no choice. I had to get back to an Empire
+planet--_any_ planet--where I could take a starship for Terra. With
+war about to explode in the Procyon sector, I had to get home before
+communications were knocked out altogether. Otherwise--well, a Galactic
+war can last up to eight hundred years. By the time regular transport
+service was re-established, I wouldn’t be worrying about getting home.
+
+The _Vesta_ could take me well out of the dangerous sector, and all
+the way to Samarra--Sirius Seven--which was, figuratively speaking,
+just across the street from the Solar System and Terra. Still, it was
+a questionable solution. The rules about segregation are strict, the
+anti-discriminatory laws are stricter, and the Theradin had made a
+prior reservation.
+
+The captain of the _Vesta_ couldn’t have refused him transportation,
+even if fifty human, Terran women had been left stranded on Deneb
+IV. And sharing a cabin with the Theradin was ethically, morally and
+socially out of the question. Haalvordhen was a nonhuman telepath; and
+no human in his right senses will get any closer than necessary even to
+a human telepath. As for a nonhuman one--
+
+And yet, what other way was there?
+
+The captain said tentatively, “We _might_ be able to squeeze you into
+the crewmen’s quarters--” he paused uneasily, and glanced up at me.
+
+I bit my lip, frowning. That was worse yet. “I understand,” I said
+slowly, “that this Theradin--Haalvordhen--has offered to allow me to
+share _its_ quarters.”
+
+“That’s right. But, Miss Vargas--”
+
+I made up my mind in a rush. “I’ll do it,” I said. “It’s the best way,
+all around.”
+
+At the sight of his scandalized face, I almost regretted my decision.
+It was going to cause an interplanetary scandal, I thought wryly. A
+human woman--and a Terran citizen--spending forty days in space and
+sharing a cabin with a nonhuman!
+
+The Theradin, although male in form, had no single attribute which one
+could remotely refer to as sex. But of course that wasn’t the problem.
+The nonhuman were specifically prohibited from mingling with the human
+races. Terran custom and taboo were binding, and I faced, resolutely,
+the knowledge that by the time I got to Terra, the planet might be made
+too hot to hold me.
+
+Still, I told myself defiantly, it was a big Galaxy. And conditions
+weren’t normal just now and that made a big difference. I signed a
+substantial check for my transportation, and made arrangements for the
+shipping and stowing of what few possessions I could safely trans-ship
+across space.
+
+But I still felt uneasy when I went aboard the next day--so uneasy
+that I tried to bolster up my flagging spirits with all sorts of
+minor comforts. Fortunately the Theradin were oxygen-breathers, so I
+knew there would be no trouble about atmosphere-mixtures, or the air
+pressure to be maintained in the cabin. And the Theradin were Type Two
+nonhumans, which meant that the acceleration of a hyperspeed ship would
+knock my shipmate into complete prostration without special drugs. In
+fact, he would probably stay drugged in his skyhook during most of the
+trip.
+
+The single cabin was far up toward the nose of the starship. It was a
+queer little spherical cubbyhole, a nest. The walls were foam-padded
+all around the sphere, for passengers never develop a spaceman’s skill
+at maneuvering their bodies in free-fall, and cabins had to be designed
+so that an occupant, moving unguardedly, would not dash out his or her
+brains against an unpadded surface. Spaced at random on the inside of
+the sphere were three skyhooks--nested cradles on swinging pivots--into
+which the passenger was snugged during blastoff in shock-absorbing foam
+and a complicated Garensen pressure-apparatus and was thus enabled to
+sleep secure without floating away.
+
+A few screw-down doors were marked LUGGAGE. I immediately unscrewed one
+door and stowed my personal belongings in the bin. Then I screwed the
+top down securely and carefully fastened the padding over it. Finally,
+I climbed around the small cubbyhole, seeking to familiarize myself
+with it before my unusual roommate arrived.
+
+It was about fourteen feet in diameter. A sphincter lock opened from
+the narrow corridor to cargo bays and crewmen’s quarters, while a
+second led into the cabin’s functional equivalent of a bathroom.
+Planetbound men and women are always surprised and a little shocked
+when they see the sanitary arrangements on a spaceship. But once
+they’ve tried to perform normal bodily functions in free-fall, they
+understand the peculiar equipment very well.
+
+I’ve made six trips across the Galaxy in as many cycles. I’m
+practically an old hand, and can even wash my face in free-fall without
+drowning. The trick is to use a sponge and suction. But, by and large,
+I understand perfectly why spacemen, between planets, usually look a
+bit unkempt.
+
+I stretched out on the padding of the main cabin, and waited with
+growing uneasiness for the nonhuman to show up. Fortunately, it wasn’t
+long before the diaphragm on the outer sphincter-lock expanded, and a
+curious, peaked face peered through.
+
+“Vargas Miss Hel-len?” said the Theradin in a sibilant whisper.
+
+“That’s my name,” I replied instantly. I pulled myself upward, and
+added, quite unnecessarily, “You are Haalvordhen, of course.”
+
+“Such is my identification,” confirmed the alien, and the long, lean,
+oddly-muscled body squirmed through after the peaked head. “It is kind,
+Vargas Miss, to share accom-modation under this necesssity.”
+
+“It’s kind of you,” I said vigorously. “We’ve all got to get home
+before this war breaks out!”
+
+“That war may be prevented, I have all hope,” the nonhuman said. He
+spoke comprehensibly in Galactic Standard, but expressionlessly, for
+the vocal chords of the Theradins are located in an auxiliary pair of
+inner lips, and their voices seem reedy and lacking in resonance to
+human ears.
+
+“Yet know you, Vargas Miss, they would have hurled me from this ship to
+make room for an Empire citizen, had you not been heart-kind to share.”
+
+“Good heavens!” I exclaimed, shocked, “I didn’t know that!”
+
+I stared at him, disbelieving. The captain couldn’t have legally done
+such a thing--or even seriously have entertained the thought. Had he
+been trying to intimidate the Theradin into giving up his reserved
+place?
+
+“I--I was meaning to thank _you_,” I said, to cover my confusion.
+
+“Let us thank we-other, then, and be in accord,” the reedy voice
+mouthed.
+
+I looked the nonhuman over, unable to hide completely my curiosity.
+In form the Theradin was vaguely humanoid--but only vaguely--for, the
+squat arms terminated in mittened “hands” and the long sharp face was
+elfin, and perpetually grimacing.
+
+The Theradin have no facial muscles to speak of, and no change of
+expression or of vocal inflection is possible to them. Of course, being
+telepathic, such subtleties of visible or auditory expression would be
+superfluous on the face of it.
+
+I felt--as yet--none of the revulsion which the mere presence of the
+Theradin was _supposed_ to inspire. It was not much different from
+being in the presence of a large humanoid animal. There was nothing
+inherently fearful about the alien. Yet he was a telepath--and of a
+nonhuman breed my species had feared for a thousand years.
+
+Could he read my mind?
+
+“Yes,” said the Theradin from across the cabin. “You must forgive me.
+I try to put up barrier, but it is hard. You broadcast your thought so
+strong it is impossible to shut it out.” The alien paused. “Try not to
+be embar-rass. It bother me too.”
+
+Before I could think of anything to say to that a crew member in black
+leather thrust his head, unannounced, through the sphincter, and said
+with an air of authority, “In skyhooks, please.” He moved confidently
+into the cabin. “Miss Vargas, can I help you strap down?” he asked.
+
+“Thanks, but I can manage,” I told him.
+
+Hastily I clambered into the skyhook, buckling the inner straps, and
+fastening the suction tubes of the complicated Garensen apparatus
+across my chest and stomach. The nonhuman was awkwardly drawing his
+hands from their protective mittens and struggling with the Garensens.
+
+Unhappily the Theradin have a double thumb, and handling the small-size
+Terran equipment is an almost impossibly delicate task. It is made more
+difficult by the fact that the flesh of their “hands” is mostly thin
+mucus membrane which tears easily on contact with leather and raw metal.
+
+“Give Haalvordhen a hand,” I urged the crewman. “I’ve done this dozens
+of times!”
+
+I might as well have saved my breath. The crewman came and assured
+himself that _my_ straps and tubes and cushions were meticulously
+tightened. He took what seemed to me a long time, and used his hands
+somewhat excessively. I lay under the heavy Garensen equipment, too
+inwardly furious to even give him the satisfaction of protest.
+
+It was far too long before he finally straightened and moved toward
+Haalvordhen’s skyhook. He gave the alien’s outer straps only a
+perfunctory tug or two, and then turned his head to grin at me with a
+totally uncalled-for familiarity.
+
+“Blastoff in ninety seconds,” he said, and wriggled himself rapidly out
+through the lock.
+
+Haalvordhen exploded in a flood of Samarran which I could not follow.
+The vehemence of his voice, however, was better than a dictionary. For
+some strange reason I found myself sharing his fury. The unfairness of
+the whole procedure was shameful. The Theradin had paid passage money,
+and deserved in any case the prescribed minimum of decent attention.
+
+I said forthrightly, “Never mind the fool, Haalvordhen. Are you
+strapped down all right?”
+
+“I don’t know,” he replied despairfully. “The equipment is unfamiliar--”
+
+“Look--” I hesitated, but in common decency I had to make the gesture.
+“If I examine carefully my own Garensens, can you read my mind and see
+how they should be adjusted?” He mouthed, “I’ll try,” and immediately
+I fixed my gaze steadily on the apparatus. After a moment, I felt a
+curious sensation. It was something like the faint, sickening feeling
+of being touched and pushed about, against my will, by a distasteful
+stranger.
+
+I tried to control the surge of almost physical revulsion. No wonder
+that humans kept as far as possible from the telepathic races....
+
+And then I saw--did I _see_, I wondered, or was it a direct telepathic
+interference with my perceptions?--a second image superimpose itself
+on the Garensens into which I was strapped. And the realization was
+so disturbing that I forgot the discomfort of the mental rapport
+completely. “You aren’t nearly fastened in,” I warned. “You haven’t
+begun to fasten the suction tubes--oh, _damn_ the man. He must have
+seen in common humanity--” I broke off abruptly, and fumbled in grim
+desperation with my own straps. “I think there’s just time--”
+
+But there wasn’t. With appalling suddenness a violent clamor--the final
+warning--hit my ears. I clenched my teeth and urged frantically: “Hang
+on! Here we go!”
+
+And then the blast hit us! Under the sudden sickening pressure I
+felt my lungs collapse, and struggled to remain upright, choking for
+breath. I heard a queer, gagging grunt from the alien, and it was far
+more disturbing than a human scream would have been. Then the second
+shockwave struck with such violence that I screamed aloud in completely
+human terror. Screamed--and blacked out.
+
+I wasn’t unconscious very long. I’d never collapsed during takeoff
+before, and my first fuzzy emotion when I felt the touch of familiar
+things around me again was one of embarrassment. What had happened?
+Then, almost simultaneously, I became reassuringly aware that we were
+in free fall and that the crewman who had warned us to alert ourselves
+was stretched out on the empty air near my skyhook. He looked worried.
+
+“Are you all right, Miss Vargas?” he asked, solicitously. “The blastoff
+wasn’t any rougher than usual.”
+
+“I’m all right,” I assured him woozily. My shoulders jerked and the
+Garensens shrieked as I pressed upward, undoing the apparatus with
+tremulous fingers. “What about the Theradin?” I asked urgently. “His
+Garensens weren’t fastened. You barely glanced at them.” The crewman
+spoke slowly and steadily, with a deliberation I could not mistake.
+“Just a minute, Miss Vargas,” he said. “Have you forgotten? I spent
+_every moment_ of the time I was in here fastening the Theradin’s belts
+and pressure equipment.”
+
+He gave me a hand to assist me up, but I shook it off so fiercely that
+I flung myself against the padding on the opposite side of the cabin. I
+caught apprehensively at a handhold, and looked down at the Theradin.
+
+Haalvordhen lay flattened beneath the complex apparatus. His peaked
+pixie face was shrunken and ghastly, and his mouth looked badly
+bruised. I bent closer, then jerked upright with a violence that sent
+me cascading back across the cabin, almost into the arms of the crewman.
+
+“You must have fixed those belts _just now_,” I said accusingly.
+“They _were not_ fastened before blastoff! It’s malicious criminal
+negligence, and if Haalvordhen dies--”
+
+The crewman gave me a slow, contemptuous smile. “It’s my word against
+yours, sister,” he reminded me.
+
+“In common decency, in common humanity--” I found that my voice was
+hoarse and shaking, and could not go on.
+
+The crewman said humorlessly, “I should think you’d be glad if the geek
+died in blastoff. You’re awfully concerned about the geek--and you
+know how _that_ sounds?” I caught the frame of the skyhook and anchored
+myself against it. I was almost too faint to speak. “What were you
+trying to do?” I brought out at last. “_Murder_ the Theradin?”
+
+The crewman’s baleful gaze did not shift from my face. “Suppose you
+close your mouth,” he said, without malice, but with an even inflection
+that was far more frightening. “If you don’t, we may have to close it
+for you. I don’t think much of humans who fraternize with geeks.”
+
+I opened and shut my mouth several times before I could force myself to
+reply. All I finally said was, “You know, of course, that I intend to
+speak to the captain?”
+
+“Suit yourself.” He turned and strode contemptuously toward the door.
+“We’d have been doing you a favor if the geek had died in blastoff.
+But, as I say, suit yourself. I think your geek’s alive, anyhow.
+They’re hard to kill.”
+
+I clutched the skyhook, unable to move, while he dragged his body
+through the sphincter lock and it contracted behind him.
+
+Well, I thought bleakly, I had known what I would be letting myself in
+for when I’d made the arrangement. And since I was already committed, I
+might as well see if Haalvordhen were alive or dead. Resolutely I bent
+over his skyhook, angling sharply to brace myself in free-fall.
+
+He wasn’t dead. While I looked I saw the bruised and bleeding “hands”
+flutter spasmodically. Then, abruptly, the alien made a queer, rasping
+noise. I felt helpless and for some reason I was stirred to compassion.
+
+I bent and laid a hesitant hand on the Garensen apparatus which was
+now neatly and expertly fastened. I was bitter about the fact that for
+the first time in my life I had lost consciousness! Had I not done so
+the crewman could not have so adroitly covered his negligence. But it
+was important to remember that the circumstance would not have helped
+Haalvordhen much either.
+
+“Your feelings do you nothing but credit!” The reedy flat voice was
+almost a whisper. “If I may trespass once more on your kindness--can
+you unfasten these instruments again?”
+
+I bent to comply, asking helplessly as I did so, “Are you sure you’re
+all right?”
+
+“Very far from all right,” the alien mouthed, slowly and without
+expression.
+
+I had the feeling that he resented being compelled to speak aloud, but
+I didn’t think I could stand that telepath touch again. The alien’s
+flat, slitted eyes watched me while I carefully unfastened the suction
+tubes and cushioning devices.
+
+At this distance I could see that the eyes had lost their color, and
+that the raw “hands” were flaccid and limp. There were also heavily
+discolored patches about the alien’s throat and head. He pronounced,
+with a terribly thick effort. “I should have--been drugged. Now it’s
+too late. _Argha maci_--” the words trailed off into blurred Samarran
+but the discolored patch in his neck still throbbed sharply, and the
+hands twitched in an agony which, being dumb, seemed the more fearful.
+
+I clung to the skyhook, dismayed at the intensity of my own emotion.
+I thought that Haalvordhen had spoken again when the sharp jolt of
+command sounded, clear and imperative, in my brain.
+
+“_Procalamine!_” For an instant the shock was all I could feel--the
+shock, and the overwhelming revulsion at the telepathic touch. There
+was no hesitation or apology in it now, for the Theradin was fighting
+for his life. Again the sharp, furious command came: “_Give me
+procalamine!_”
+
+And with a start of dismay I realized that most nonhumans needed the
+drug, which was kept on all spaceships to enable them to live in
+free-fall.
+
+Few nonhuman races have the stubbornly persistent heart of the Terrans,
+which beats by muscular contraction alone. The circulation of the
+Theradin, and similar races, is dependent on gravity to keep the vital
+fluid pulsing. Procalamine gives their main blood organ just enough
+artificial muscular spasm to keep the blood moving and working.
+
+Hastily I propelled myself into the “bathroom”--wriggled hastily
+through the diaphragm, and unscrewed the top of the bin marked FIRST
+AID. Neatly pigeonholed beneath transparent plastic were sterile
+bandages, antiseptics clearly marked HUMAN and--separately, for the
+three main types of nonhuman races, in one deep bin--the small plastic
+globules of vital stimulants.
+
+I sorted out two purple fluorescent ones--little globes marked
+_procalamine_--and looked at the warning, in raised characters on the
+globule. It read: FOR ADMINISTRATION BY QUALIFIED SPACE PERSONNEL ONLY.
+A touch of panic made my diaphragm catch. Should I call the _Vesta_’s
+captain, or one of the crew?
+
+Then a cold certainty grew in me. If I did, Haalvordhen wouldn’t get
+the stimulant he needed. I sorted out a fluorescent needle for nonhuman
+integument, pricked the globule and sucked the dose into the needle.
+Then, with its tip still enclosed in the plastic globe, I wriggled
+myself back to where the alien still lay loosely confined by one of the
+inner straps.
+
+Panic touched me again, with the almost humorous knowledge that I
+didn’t know where to inject the stimulant, and that a hypodermic
+injection, in space presents problems which only space-trained men
+are able to cope with. But I reached out notwithstanding and gingerly
+picked up one of the unmittened “hands.” I didn’t stop to think how
+I knew that this was the proper site for the injection. I was too
+overcome with strong physical loathing.
+
+Instinct from man’s remote past on Earth told me to drop the nonhuman
+flesh and cower, gibbering and howling as my simian antecedents would
+have done. The raw membrane was feverishly hot and unpleasantly slimy
+to touch. I fought rising queasiness as I tried to think how to steady
+him for the injection.
+
+In free-fall there is no steadiness, no direction. The hypodermic
+needle, of course, worked by suction, but piercing the skin would be
+the big problem. Also, I was myself succumbing to the dizziness of
+no-gravity flight, and realized coldly that if I couldn’t make the
+injection in the next few minutes I wouldn’t be able to accomplish it
+at all.
+
+For a minute I didn’t care, a primitive part of myself reminding me
+that if the alien died I’d be rid of a detestable cabinmate, and have a
+decent trip between planets.
+
+Then, stubbornly, I threw off the temptation. I steadied the needle in
+my hand, trying to conquer the disorientation which convinced me that I
+was looking both up and down at the Theradin.
+
+My own center of gravity seemed to be located in the pit of my stomach,
+and I fought the familiar space voyaging instinct to curl up in the
+foetal position and float. I moved slightly closer to the Theradin. I
+knew that if I could get close enough, our two masses would establish
+a common center of gravity, and I would have at least a temporary
+orientation while I made the injection.
+
+The maneuver was unpleasant, for the alien seemed unconscious, flaccid
+and still, and mere physical closeness to the creature was repellent.
+The feel of the thick wettish “hand” pulsing feebly in my own was
+almost sickeningly intimate. But at last I managed to maneuver myself
+close enough to establish a common center of gravity between us--an
+axis on which I seemed to hover briefly suspended.
+
+I pulled Haalvordhen’s “hand” into this weight-center in the bare
+inches of space between us, braced the needle, and resolutely stabbed
+with it.
+
+The movement disturbed the brief artificial gravity, and Haalvordhen
+floated and bounced a little weightlessly in his skyhook. The “hand”
+went sailing back, the needle recoiling harmlessly. I swore out loud,
+now quite foolishly angry, and my own jerky movement of annoyance flung
+me partially across the cabin.
+
+Inching slowly back, I tried to grit my teeth, but only succeeded with
+a snap that jarred my skull. In terse anger, I seized Haalvordhen’s
+“hand,” which had almost stopped its feverish pulsing, and with a
+painfully slow effort--any quick or sudden movement would have thrown
+me, in recoil, across the cabin again--I wedged Haalvordhen’s “hand”
+under the strap and anchored it there. It twitched faintly--the
+Theradin was apparently still sensible to pain--and my stomach rose
+at that sick pulsing. But I hooked my feet under the skyhook’s frame,
+and flung my free arm down and across the alien, holding tight to the
+straps that confined him. Still holding him thus wedged down securely,
+I jabbed again with the needle. It touched, pricked--and then, in
+despair, I realized it could not penetrate the Theradin integument
+without weight and pressure behind it.
+
+I was too absorbed now in what had to be done to care just how I did
+it. So I wrenched forward with a convulsive movement that threw me,
+full-length, across the alien’s body. Although I still had no weight,
+the momentum of the movement drove the hypodermic needle deeply into
+the flesh of the “hand.”
+
+I pressed the catch, then picked myself up slowly, and looked around to
+see the crewman who had jeered at me with his head thrust through the
+lock again, regarding me with the distaste he had displayed toward the
+Theradin from the first. To him I was lower than the Theradin, having
+degraded myself by close contact with a nonhuman.
+
+Under that frigid, contemptuous stare, I was unable to speak. I could
+only silently withdraw the needle and hold it up. The rigid look of
+condemnation altered just a little, but not much. He remained silent,
+looking at me with something halfway between horror and accusation.
+
+It seemed years, centuries, eternities that he clung there, just
+looking at me, his face an elongated ellipse above the tight collar of
+his black leathers. Then, without even speaking, he slowly withdrew
+his head and the lock contracted behind him, leaving me alone with my
+sickening feel of contamination and an almost hysterical guilt.
+
+I hung the needle up on the air, curled myself into a ball, and,
+entirely unstrung, started sobbing like a fool.
+
+It must have been a long time before I managed to pull myself
+together, because before I even looked to see whether Haalvordhen was
+still alive, I heard the slight buzzing noise which meant it was a
+meal-period and that food had been sent through the chute to our cabin.
+I pushed the padding listlessly aside, and withdrew the heatsealed
+containers--one set colorless, the other set nonhuman fluorescent.
+
+Tardily conscious of what a fool I’d been making of myself, I hauled
+my rations over to the skyhook, and tucked them into a special slot,
+so that they wouldn’t float away. Then, with a glance at the figure
+stretched out motionless beneath the safety-strap of the other skyhook,
+I shrugged, pushed myself across the cabin again, and brought the
+fluorescent containers to Haalvordhen.
+
+He made a weary, courteous noise which I took for acknowledgment. By
+now heartily sick of the whole business, I set them before him with a
+bare minimum of politeness and withdrew to my own skyhook, occupying
+myself with the always-ticklish problem of eating in free-fall.
+
+At last I drew myself up to return the containers to the chute,
+knowing we wouldn’t leave the cabin during the entire trip. Space, on
+a starship, is held to a rigid minimum. There is simply no room for
+untrained outsiders moving around in the cramped ship, perhaps getting
+dangerously close to critically delicate equipment, and the crew is far
+too busy to stop and keep an eye on rubbernecking tourists.
+
+In an emergency, passengers can summon a crewman by pressing a
+call-button. Otherwise, as far as the crew was concerned, we were in
+another world.
+
+I paused in midair next to Haalvordhen’s skyhook. His containers were
+untouched and I felt moved to say, “Shouldn’t you try to eat something?”
+
+The flat voice had become even weaker and more rasping now, and the
+nonhuman’s careful enunciation was slurred. Words of his native
+Samarran intermingled with queer turns of phrase which I expected were
+literally rendered from mental concepts. “Heart-kind of you, _thakkava_
+Vargas Miss, but late. Haalvordhen-I deep in grateful wishing--” A long
+spate of Samarran, thickly blurred followed, then as if to himself,
+“Theradin-we, die nowhere only on Samarra, and only a little time ago
+Haalvordhen-I knowing must die, and must returning to home planet.
+_Saata_. Knowing to return and die there where Theradin-we around
+dying--” The jumble of words blurred again, and the limp “hands”
+clutched spasmodically, in and out.
+
+Then, in a queer, careful tone, the nonhuman said, “But I am not living
+to return where I can stop-die. Not so long Haalvorden-I be lasting,
+although Vargas-you Miss be helping most like _real_ instead of alien.
+Sorry your people be most you unhelping--” he stopped again, and with
+a queer little grunting noise, continued, “Now Haalvordhen-I be giving
+Vargas-you stop-gift of heritage, be needful it is.”
+
+The flaccid form of the nonhuman suddenly stiffened, went rigid. The
+drooping lids over the Theradin’s eyes seemed to unhood themselves, and
+in a spasm of fright I tried to fling myself backward. But I did not
+succeed. I remained motionless, held in a dumb fascination.
+
+I felt a sudden, icy cold, and the sharp physical nausea crawled over
+me again at the harsh and sickening touch of the alien on my mind, not
+in words this time, but in a rapport even closer--a hateful touch so
+intimate that I felt my body go limp in helpless fits and spasms of
+convulsive shuddering under the deep, hypnotic contact.
+
+Then a wave of darkness almost palpable surged up in my brain. I tried
+to scream, “_Stop it, stop it!_” And a panicky terror flitted in my
+last conscious thought through my head. _This is why, this is the
+reason humans and telepaths don’t mix_--
+
+And then a great dark door opened under my senses and I plunged again
+into unconsciousness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was not more than a few seconds, I suppose, before the blackness
+swayed and lifted and I found myself floating, curled helplessly in
+midair, and seeing, with a curious detachment, the Theradin’s skyhook
+below me. Something in the horrid limpness of that form stirred me wide
+awake.
+
+With a tight band constricting my breathing, I arrowed downward. I had
+never seen a dead Theradin before, but I needed no one to tell me that
+I saw one now. The constricting band still squeezed my throat in dry
+gasps, and in a frenzy of hysteria I threw myself wildly across the
+cabin, beating and battering on the emergency button, shrieking and
+sobbing and screaming....
+
+They kept me drugged all the rest of the trip. Twice I remember waking
+and shrieking out things I did not understand myself, before the stab
+of needles in my arm sent me down into comforting dreams again. Near
+the end of the flight, while my brain was still fuzzy, they made me
+sign a paper, something to do with witnessing that the crew held no
+responsibility for the Theradin’s death.
+
+It didn’t matter. There was something clear and cold and shrewd in my
+mind, behind the surface fuzziness, which told me I must do exactly
+what they wanted, or I would find myself in serious trouble with the
+Terran authorities. At the time I didn’t even care about that, and
+supposed it was the drugs. Now, of course, I know the truth.
+
+When the ship made planetfall at Samarra, I had to leave the _Vesta_
+and trans-ship for Terra. The _Vesta_’s little captain shook me
+by the hand and carefully avoided my eyes, without mentioning the
+dead Theradin. I had the feeling--strange, how clear it was to my
+perceptions--that he regarded me in the same way he would regard a
+loaded time bomb that might explode at any moment.
+
+I knew he was anxious to hurry me aboard a ship for Terra. He offered
+me special reservations on a linocruiser at a nominal price, with the
+obvious lie that he owned a part interest in it. Detachedly I listened
+to his floundering lies, ignored the hand he offered again, and told a
+lie or two of my own. He was angry. I knew he didn’t want me to linger
+on Samarra.
+
+Even so, he was glad to be rid of me.
+
+Descending at last from the eternal formalities of the Terran landing
+zone, I struck out quickly across the port city and hailed a Theradin
+ground-car. The Theradin driving it looked at me curiously, and in a
+buzzing voice informed me that I could find a human conveyance at the
+opposite corner. Surprised at myself, I stopped to wonder what I was
+doing. And then--
+
+And then I identified myself in a way the Theradin could not mistake.
+He was nearly as surprised as I was. I clambered into the car, and he
+drove me to the queer, block-shaped building which my eyes had never
+seen before, but which I now knew as intimately as the blue sky of
+Terra.
+
+Twice, as I crossed the twisting ramp, I was challenged. Twice, with
+the same shock of internal surprise, I answered the challenge correctly.
+
+At last I came before a Theradin whose challenge crossed mine like
+a sure, sharp lance, and the result was startling. The Theradin
+Haalvamphrenan leaned backward twice in acknowledgment, and said not in
+words--“Haalvordhen!”
+
+I answered in the same fashion. “Yes. Due to certain blunders, I could
+not return to our home planet, and was forced to use the body of this
+alien. Having made the transfer unwillingly, under necessity, I now
+see certain advantages. Once within this body, it does not seem at all
+repulsive, and the host is highly intelligent and sympathetic.
+
+“I regret the feeling that I am distasteful to you, dear friend. But,
+consider. I can now contribute my services as messenger and courier,
+without discrimination by these mind-blind Terrans. The law which
+prevents Theradin from dying on any other planet should now be changed.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” the other acquiesced, quickly grasping my meaning.
+“But now to personal matters, my dear Haalvordhen. Of course your
+possessions are held intact for you.”
+
+I became aware that I possessed five fine residences upon the planet,
+a private lake, a grove of Theirry-trees, and four hattel-boats.
+Inheritance among the Theradin, of course, is dependent upon continuity
+of the mental personality, regardless of the source of the young. When
+any Theradin died, transferring his mind into a new and younger host,
+the new host at once possessed all of those things which had belonged
+to the former personality. Two Theradin, unsatisfied with their
+individual wealth, sometimes pooled their personalities into a single
+host-body, thus accumulating modest fortunes.
+
+Continuity of memory, of course, was perfect. As Helen Vargas, I had
+certain rights and privileges as a Terran citizen, certain possessions,
+certain family rights, certain Empire privileges. And as Haalvordhen, I
+was made free of Samarra as well.
+
+In a sense of strict justice, I “told” Haalvamphrenan how the
+original host had died. I gave him the captain’s name. I didn’t envy
+him, when the _Vesta_ docked again at Samarra. “On second thought,”
+Haalvamphrenan _said_ reflectively, “I shall merely commit suicide in
+his presence.”
+
+Evidently Helen-Haalvordhen-I had a very long and interesting life
+ahead of me.
+
+So did all the other Theradin.
+
+
+
+
+  Transcriber’s Note:
+
+
+  This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5,
+  No. 2). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+  copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+  Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, while
+  minor inconsistencies have been kept as is.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79243 ***
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+      Death Between the Stars | Project Gutenberg
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79243 ***</div>
+
+
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp53" id="cover" style="max-width: 114.875em;">
+  <img class="w20" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Transcribed from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5, No. 2).</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+<h1>
+Death Between the Stars
+</h1>
+
+
+<p class="f15 center">by <strong>Marion Zimmer Bradley</strong></p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><i>We’ve had many requests for a sequel to Marion Zimmer Bradley’s
+warmly human, unforgettably appealing little story</i> <span class="allsmcap">JACKIE SEES A
+STAR</span>. <i>We’ll have to admit that she is keeping us in a state of bitter
+frustration in that respect. But as if to salve our hurt she has come
+up with a story as appealing in a somewhat different vein, and we’re
+delightfully convinced it will entrance you.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2"><b>Sympathy may or may not be an invention of the human mind. But in
+the gulfs between the stars it is likely to work a miracle. </b></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+
+<p>They asked me about it, of course, before I boarded the starship.
+All through the Western sector of the Galaxy, few rules are stricter
+than the one dividing human from nonhuman, and the little Captain of
+the <i>Vesta</i>—he was Terran, too, and proud in the black leather of the
+Empire’s merchantman forces—hemmed and hawed about it, as much as
+was consistent with a spaceman’s dignity.</p>
+
+<p>“You see, Miss Vargas,” he
+explained, not once but as often as I would listen to him, “this is
+not, strictly speaking, a passenger ship at all. Our charter is only
+to carry cargo. But, under the terms of our franchise, we are required
+to transport an occasional passenger, from the more isolated planets
+where there is no regular passenger service. Our rules simply don’t
+permit us to discriminate, and the Theradin reserved a place on this
+ship for our last voyage.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and re-emphasized, “We have
+only the one passenger cabin, you see. We’re a cargo ship and we are
+not allowed to make any discrimination between our passengers.”</p>
+
+<p>He
+looked angry about it. Unfortunately, I’d run up against that attitude
+before. Some Terrans won’t travel on the same ship with nonhumans even
+when they’re isolated in separate ends of the ship.</p>
+
+<p>I understood his
+predicament, better than he thought. The Theradin seldom travel in
+space. No one could have foreseen that Haalvordhen, the Theradin from
+Samarra, who had lived on the forsaken planet of Deneb for eighteen
+of its cycles, would have chosen this particular flight to go back to
+its own world.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time, I had no choice. I had to get back to
+an Empire planet—<i>any</i> planet—where I could take a starship for Terra.
+With war about to explode in the Procyon sector, I had to get home
+before communications were knocked out altogether. Otherwise—well, a
+Galactic war can last up to eight hundred years. By the time regular
+transport service was re-established, I wouldn’t be worrying about
+getting home.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Vesta</i> could take me well out of the dangerous sector,
+and all the way to Samarra—Sirius Seven—which was, figuratively
+speaking, just across the street from the Solar System and Terra.
+Still, it was a questionable solution. The rules about segregation are
+strict, the anti-discriminatory laws are stricter, and the Theradin
+had made a prior reservation.</p>
+
+<p>The captain of the <i>Vesta</i> couldn’t have
+refused him transportation, even if fifty human, Terran women had
+been left stranded on Deneb IV. And sharing a cabin with the Theradin
+was ethically, morally and socially out of the question. Haalvordhen
+was a nonhuman telepath; and no human in his right senses will get
+any closer than necessary even to a human telepath. As for a nonhuman
+one—</p>
+
+<p>And yet, what other way was there?</p>
+
+<p>The captain said tentatively,
+“We <i>might</i> be able to squeeze you into the crewmen’s quarters—” he
+paused uneasily, and glanced up at me.</p>
+
+<p>I bit my lip, frowning. That was worse yet. “I understand,” I said slowly,
+“that this Theradin—Haalvordhen—has offered to allow me to share <i>its</i> quarters.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right. But, Miss Vargas—”</p>
+
+<p>I made up my mind in a rush. “I’ll do
+it,” I said. “It’s the best way, all around.”</p>
+
+<p>At the sight of his
+scandalized face, I almost regretted my decision. It was going to
+cause an interplanetary scandal, I thought wryly. A human woman—and a
+Terran citizen—spending forty days in space and sharing a cabin with a
+nonhuman!</p>
+
+<p>The Theradin, although male in form, had no single attribute
+which one could remotely refer to as sex. But of course that wasn’t
+the problem. The nonhuman were specifically prohibited from mingling
+with the human races. Terran custom and taboo
+were binding, and I faced, resolutely, the knowledge that by the time
+I got to Terra, the planet might be made too hot to hold me.</p>
+
+<p>Still,
+I told myself defiantly, it was a big Galaxy. And conditions weren’t
+normal just now and that made a big difference. I signed a substantial
+check for my transportation, and made arrangements for the shipping
+and stowing of what few possessions I could safely trans-ship across
+space.</p>
+
+<p>But I still felt uneasy when I went aboard the next day—so
+uneasy that I tried to bolster up my flagging spirits with all sorts
+of minor comforts. Fortunately the Theradin were oxygen-breathers, so
+I knew there would be no trouble about atmosphere-mixtures, or the air
+pressure to be maintained in the cabin. And the Theradin were Type
+Two nonhumans, which meant that the acceleration of a hyperspeed ship
+would knock my shipmate into complete prostration without special
+drugs. In fact, he would probably stay drugged in his skyhook during
+most of the trip.</p>
+
+<p>The single cabin was far up toward the nose of the
+starship. It was a queer little spherical cubbyhole, a nest. The walls
+were foam-padded all around the sphere, for passengers never develop a
+spaceman’s skill at maneuvering their bodies in free-fall, and cabins
+had to be designed so that an occupant, moving unguardedly, would not
+dash out his or her brains against an unpadded surface. Spaced at
+random on the inside of the sphere were three skyhooks—nested cradles
+on swinging pivots—into which the passenger was snugged during blastoff
+in shock-absorbing foam and a complicated Garensen pressure-apparatus
+and was thus enabled to sleep secure without floating away.</p>
+
+<p>A few
+screw-down doors were marked LUGGAGE. I immediately unscrewed one door
+and stowed my personal belongings in the bin. Then I screwed the top
+down securely and carefully fastened the padding over it. Finally,
+I climbed around the small cubbyhole, seeking to familiarize myself
+with it before my unusual roommate arrived.</p>
+
+<p>It was about fourteen
+feet in diameter. A sphincter lock opened from the narrow corridor
+to cargo bays and crewmen’s quarters, while a second led into the
+cabin’s functional equivalent of a bathroom. Planetbound men and women
+are always surprised and a little shocked when they see the sanitary
+arrangements on a spaceship. But once they’ve tried to perform normal
+bodily functions in free-fall, they understand the peculiar equipment
+very well.</p>
+
+<p>I’ve made six trips across the Galaxy in as many cycles.
+I’m practically an old hand, and can even wash my face in free-fall
+without drowning. The trick is to use a sponge and suction. But, by and
+large, I understand perfectly why spacemen,
+between planets, usually look a bit unkempt.</p>
+
+<p>I stretched out on the
+padding of the main cabin, and waited with growing uneasiness for the
+nonhuman to show up. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the diaphragm
+on the outer sphincter-lock expanded, and a curious, peaked face
+peered through.</p>
+
+<p>“Vargas Miss Hel-len?” said the Theradin in a sibilant
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my name,” I replied instantly. I pulled myself upward,
+and added, quite unnecessarily, “You are Haalvordhen, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Such is my identification,” confirmed the alien, and the long, lean,
+oddly-muscled body squirmed through after the peaked head. “It is kind,
+Vargas Miss, to share accom-modation under this necesssity.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s
+kind of you,” I said vigorously. “We’ve all got to get home before
+this war breaks out!”</p>
+
+<p>“That war may be prevented, I have all hope,”
+the nonhuman said. He spoke comprehensibly in Galactic Standard, but
+expressionlessly, for the vocal chords of the Theradins are located
+in an auxiliary pair of inner lips, and their voices seem reedy and
+lacking in resonance to human ears.</p>
+
+<p>“Yet know you, Vargas Miss, they
+would have hurled me from this ship to make room for an Empire citizen,
+had you not been heart-kind to share.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good heavens!” I exclaimed,
+shocked, “I didn’t know that!”</p>
+
+<p>I stared at him, disbelieving. The
+captain couldn’t have legally done such a thing—or even seriously have
+entertained the thought. Had he been trying to intimidate the Theradin
+into giving up his reserved place?</p>
+
+<p>“I—I was meaning to thank <i>you</i>,” I
+said, to cover my confusion.</p>
+
+<p>“Let us thank we-other, then, and be in
+accord,” the reedy voice mouthed.</p>
+
+<p>I looked the nonhuman over, unable
+to hide completely my curiosity. In form the Theradin was vaguely
+humanoid—but only vaguely—for, the squat arms terminated in mittened
+“hands” and the long sharp face was elfin, and perpetually grimacing.</p>
+
+<p>The Theradin have no facial muscles to speak of, and no change of
+expression or of vocal inflection is possible to them. Of course, being
+telepathic, such subtleties of visible or auditory expression would
+be superfluous on the face of it.</p>
+
+<p>I felt—as yet—none of the revulsion
+which the mere presence of the Theradin was <i>supposed</i> to inspire. It
+was not much different from being in the presence of a large humanoid
+animal. There was nothing inherently fearful about the alien. Yet he
+was a telepath—and of a nonhuman breed my species had feared for a
+thousand years.</p>
+
+<p>Could he read my mind?</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said the Theradin from
+across the cabin. “You must forgive me. I try to put up barrier, but
+it is hard. You broadcast your thought so strong
+it is impossible to shut it out.” The alien paused. “Try not to be
+embar-rass. It bother me too.”</p>
+
+<p>Before I could think of anything to say
+to that a crew member in black leather thrust his head, unannounced,
+through the sphincter, and said with an air of authority, “In skyhooks,
+please.” He moved confidently into the cabin. “Miss Vargas, can I
+help you strap down?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, but I can manage,” I told him.</p>
+
+<p>Hastily I clambered into the skyhook, buckling the inner straps,
+and fastening the suction tubes of the complicated Garensen apparatus
+across my chest and stomach. The nonhuman was awkwardly drawing his
+hands from their protective mittens and struggling with the Garensens.</p>
+
+<p>Unhappily the Theradin have a double thumb, and handling the small-size
+Terran equipment is an almost impossibly delicate task. It is made
+more difficult by the fact that the flesh of their “hands” is mostly
+thin mucus membrane which tears easily on contact with leather and raw
+metal.</p>
+
+<p>“Give Haalvordhen a hand,” I urged the crewman. “I’ve done this
+dozens of times!”</p>
+
+<p>I might as well have saved my breath. The crewman
+came and assured himself that <i>my</i> straps and tubes and cushions were
+meticulously tightened. He took what seemed to me a long time, and
+used his hands somewhat excessively. I lay under the heavy Garensen
+equipment, too inwardly furious to even give him the satisfaction of
+protest.</p>
+
+<p>It was far too long before he finally straightened and moved
+toward Haalvordhen’s skyhook. He gave the alien’s outer straps only
+a perfunctory tug or two, and then turned his head to grin at me with
+a totally uncalled-for familiarity.</p>
+
+<p>“Blastoff in ninety seconds,” he
+said, and wriggled himself rapidly out through the lock.</p>
+
+<p>Haalvordhen
+exploded in a flood of Samarran which I could not follow. The vehemence
+of his voice, however, was better than a dictionary. For some strange
+reason I found myself sharing his fury. The unfairness of the whole
+procedure was shameful. The Theradin had paid passage money, and
+deserved in any case the prescribed minimum of decent attention.</p>
+
+<p>I said
+forthrightly, “Never mind the fool, Haalvordhen. Are you strapped down
+all right?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” he replied despairfully. “The equipment is
+unfamiliar—”</p>
+
+<p>“Look—” I hesitated, but in common decency I had to make
+the gesture. “If I examine carefully my own Garensens, can you read
+my mind and see how they should be adjusted?” He mouthed, “I’ll try,”
+and immediately I fixed my gaze steadily on the apparatus. After a
+moment, I felt a curious sensation. It was something like the faint,
+sickening feeling of being touched and
+pushed about, against my will, by a distasteful stranger.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to
+control the surge of almost physical revulsion. No wonder that humans
+kept as far as possible from the telepathic races....</p>
+
+<p>And then I
+saw—did I <i>see</i>, I wondered, or was it a direct telepathic interference
+with my perceptions?—a second image superimpose itself on the Garensens
+into which I was strapped. And the realization was so disturbing that
+I forgot the discomfort of the mental rapport completely. “You aren’t
+nearly fastened in,” I warned. “You haven’t begun to fasten the suction
+tubes—oh, <i>damn</i> the man. He must have seen in common humanity—”
+I broke
+off abruptly, and fumbled in grim desperation with my own straps. “I
+think there’s just time—”</p>
+
+<p>But there wasn’t. With appalling suddenness
+a violent clamor—the final warning—hit my ears. I clenched my teeth
+and urged frantically: “Hang on! Here we go!”</p>
+
+<p>And then the blast hit
+us! Under the sudden sickening pressure I felt my lungs collapse, and
+struggled to remain upright, choking for breath. I heard a queer,
+gagging grunt from the alien, and it was far more disturbing than
+a human scream would have been. Then the second shockwave struck
+with such violence that I screamed aloud in completely human terror.
+Screamed—and blacked out.</p>
+
+<p>I wasn’t unconscious very long. I’d never
+collapsed during takeoff before, and my first fuzzy emotion when I felt
+the touch of familiar things around me again was one of embarrassment.
+What had happened? Then, almost simultaneously, I became reassuringly
+aware that we were in free fall and that the crewman who had warned
+us to alert ourselves was stretched out on the empty air near my
+skyhook. He looked worried.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you all right, Miss Vargas?” he asked,
+solicitously. “The blastoff wasn’t any rougher than usual.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m all
+right,” I assured him woozily. My shoulders jerked and the Garensens
+shrieked as I pressed upward, undoing the apparatus with tremulous
+fingers. “What about the Theradin?” I asked urgently. “His Garensens
+weren’t fastened. You barely glanced at them.” The crewman spoke slowly
+and steadily, with a deliberation I could not mistake. “Just a minute,
+Miss Vargas,” he said. “Have you forgotten? I spent <i>every moment</i> of
+the time I was in here fastening the Theradin’s belts and pressure
+equipment.”</p>
+
+<p>He gave me a hand to assist me up, but I shook it off
+so fiercely that I flung myself against the padding on the opposite
+side of the cabin. I caught apprehensively at a handhold, and looked
+down at the Theradin.</p>
+
+<p>Haalvordhen lay flattened beneath the complex
+apparatus. His peaked pixie face was shrunken
+and ghastly, and his mouth looked badly bruised. I bent closer, then
+jerked upright with a violence that sent me cascading back across the
+cabin, almost into the arms of the crewman.</p>
+
+<p>“You must have fixed those
+belts <i>just now</i>,” I said accusingly. “They <i>were not</i> fastened before
+blastoff! It’s malicious criminal negligence, and if Haalvordhen
+dies—”</p>
+
+<p>The crewman gave me a slow, contemptuous smile. “It’s my word
+against yours, sister,” he reminded me.</p>
+
+<p>“In common decency, in common
+humanity—” I found that my voice was hoarse and shaking, and could not
+go on.</p>
+
+<p>The crewman said humorlessly, “I should think you’d be glad if
+the geek died in blastoff. You’re awfully concerned about the geek—and
+you know how <i>that</i> sounds?” I caught the frame of the skyhook and
+anchored myself against it. I was almost too faint to speak. “What were
+you trying to do?” I brought out at last. “<i>Murder</i> the Theradin?”</p>
+
+<p>The
+crewman’s baleful gaze did not shift from my face. “Suppose you close
+your mouth,” he said, without malice, but with an even inflection that
+was far more frightening. “If you don’t, we may have to close it for
+you. I don’t think much of humans who fraternize with geeks.”</p>
+
+<p>I opened
+and shut my mouth several times before I could force myself to reply.
+All I finally said was, “You know, of course, that I intend to speak
+to the captain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Suit yourself.” He turned and strode contemptuously
+toward the door. “We’d have been doing you a favor if the geek had
+died in blastoff. But, as I say, suit yourself. I think your geek’s
+alive, anyhow. They’re hard to kill.”</p>
+
+<p>I clutched the skyhook, unable
+to move, while he dragged his body through the sphincter lock and it
+contracted behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Well, I thought bleakly, I had known what I
+would be letting myself in for when I’d made the arrangement. And
+since I was already committed, I might as well see if Haalvordhen were
+alive or dead. Resolutely I bent over his skyhook, angling sharply to
+brace myself in free-fall.</p>
+
+<p>He wasn’t dead. While I looked I saw the
+bruised and bleeding “hands” flutter spasmodically. Then, abruptly,
+the alien made a queer, rasping noise. I felt helpless and for some
+reason I was stirred to compassion.</p>
+
+<p>I bent and laid a hesitant hand
+on the Garensen apparatus which was now neatly and expertly fastened.
+I was bitter about the fact that for the first time in my life I had
+lost consciousness! Had I not done so the crewman could not have so
+adroitly covered his negligence. But it was important to remember
+that the circumstance would not have helped Haalvordhen much either.</p>
+
+<p>“Your feelings do you nothing but credit!”
+The reedy flat voice was almost a whisper. “If I may trespass once
+more on your kindness—can you unfasten these instruments again?”</p>
+
+<p>I
+bent to comply, asking helplessly as I did so, “Are you sure you’re
+all right?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very far from all right,” the alien mouthed, slowly and
+without expression.</p>
+
+<p>I had the feeling that he resented being compelled
+to speak aloud, but I didn’t think I could stand that telepath touch
+again. The alien’s flat, slitted eyes watched me while I carefully
+unfastened the suction tubes and cushioning devices.</p>
+
+<p>At this distance I
+could see that the eyes had lost their color, and that the raw “hands”
+were flaccid and limp. There were also heavily discolored patches
+about the alien’s throat and head. He pronounced, with a terribly
+thick effort. “I should have—been drugged. Now it’s too late. <i>Argha
+maci</i>—” the words trailed off into blurred Samarran but the discolored
+patch in his neck still throbbed sharply, and the hands twitched in
+an agony which, being dumb, seemed the more fearful.</p>
+
+<p>I clung to the
+skyhook, dismayed at the intensity of my own emotion. I thought that
+Haalvordhen had spoken again when the sharp jolt of command sounded,
+clear and imperative, in my brain.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Procalamine!</i>” For an instant the
+shock was all I could feel—the shock, and the overwhelming revulsion
+at the telepathic touch. There was no hesitation or apology in
+it now, for the Theradin was fighting for his life. Again the sharp,
+furious command came: “<i>Give me procalamine!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>And with a start of dismay
+I realized that most nonhumans needed the drug, which was kept on all
+spaceships to enable them to live in free-fall.</p>
+
+<p>Few nonhuman races have
+the stubbornly persistent heart of the Terrans, which beats by muscular
+contraction alone. The circulation of the Theradin, and similar races,
+is dependent on gravity to keep the vital fluid pulsing. Procalamine
+gives their main blood organ just enough artificial muscular spasm to
+keep the blood moving and working.</p>
+
+<p>Hastily I propelled myself into
+the “bathroom”—wriggled hastily through the diaphragm, and unscrewed
+the top of the bin marked FIRST AID. Neatly pigeonholed beneath
+transparent plastic were sterile bandages, antiseptics clearly marked
+HUMAN and—separately, for the three main types of nonhuman races, in
+one deep bin—the small plastic globules of vital stimulants.</p>
+
+<p>I sorted
+out two purple fluorescent ones—little globes marked <i>procalamine</i>—and
+looked at the warning, in raised characters on the globule. It read:
+FOR ADMINISTRATION BY QUALIFIED SPACE PERSONNEL ONLY. A touch of
+panic made my diaphragm catch. Should I call
+the <i>Vesta</i>’s captain, or one of the crew?</p>
+
+<p>Then a cold certainty grew
+in me. If I did, Haalvordhen wouldn’t get the stimulant he needed. I
+sorted out a fluorescent needle for nonhuman integument, pricked the
+globule and sucked the dose into the needle. Then, with its tip still
+enclosed in the plastic globe, I wriggled myself back to where the
+alien still lay loosely confined by one of the inner straps.</p>
+
+<p>Panic
+touched me again, with the almost humorous knowledge that I didn’t know
+where to inject the stimulant, and that a hypodermic injection, in
+space presents problems which only space-trained men are able to cope
+with. But I reached out notwithstanding and gingerly picked up one of
+the unmittened “hands.” I didn’t stop to think how I knew that this
+was the proper site for the injection. I was too overcome with strong
+physical loathing.</p>
+
+<p>Instinct from man’s remote past on Earth told me to
+drop the nonhuman flesh and cower, gibbering and howling as my simian
+antecedents would have done. The raw membrane was feverishly hot and
+unpleasantly slimy to touch. I fought rising queasiness as I tried to
+think how to steady him for the injection.</p>
+
+<p>In free-fall there is no
+steadiness, no direction. The hypodermic needle, of course, worked by
+suction, but piercing the skin would be the big problem. Also, I was
+myself succumbing to the dizziness of no-gravity flight, and realized
+coldly that if I couldn’t make the injection in the next few minutes I
+wouldn’t be able to accomplish it at all.</p>
+
+<p>For a minute I didn’t care,
+a primitive part of myself reminding me that if the alien died I’d be
+rid of a detestable cabinmate, and have a decent trip between planets.</p>
+
+<p>Then, stubbornly, I threw off the temptation. I steadied the needle
+in my hand, trying to conquer the disorientation which convinced me
+that I was looking both up and down at the Theradin.</p>
+
+<p>My own center of
+gravity seemed to be located in the pit of my stomach, and I fought
+the familiar space voyaging instinct to curl up in the foetal position
+and float. I moved slightly closer to the Theradin. I knew that if
+I could get close enough, our two masses would establish a common
+center of gravity, and I would have at least a temporary orientation
+while I made the injection.</p>
+
+<p>The maneuver was unpleasant, for the alien
+seemed unconscious, flaccid and still, and mere physical closeness
+to the creature was repellent. The feel of the thick wettish “hand”
+pulsing feebly in my own was almost sickeningly intimate. But at
+last I managed to maneuver myself close enough to establish a common
+center of gravity between us—an axis on which I seemed to hover
+briefly suspended.</p>
+
+<p>I pulled Haalvordhen’s “hand” into
+this weight-center in the bare inches of space between us, braced the
+needle, and resolutely stabbed with it.</p>
+
+<p>The movement disturbed the
+brief artificial gravity, and Haalvordhen floated and bounced a little
+weightlessly in his skyhook. The “hand” went sailing back, the needle
+recoiling harmlessly. I swore out loud, now quite foolishly angry, and
+my own jerky movement of annoyance flung me partially across the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Inching slowly back, I tried to grit my teeth, but only succeeded with
+a snap that jarred my skull. In terse anger, I seized Haalvordhen’s
+“hand,” which had almost stopped its feverish pulsing, and with a
+painfully slow effort—any quick or sudden movement would have thrown
+me, in recoil, across the cabin again—I wedged Haalvordhen’s “hand”
+under the strap and anchored it there. It twitched faintly—the Theradin
+was apparently still sensible to pain—and my stomach rose at that sick
+pulsing. But I hooked my feet under the skyhook’s frame, and flung
+my free arm down and across the alien, holding tight to the straps
+that confined him. Still holding him thus wedged down securely, I
+jabbed again with the needle. It touched, pricked—and then, in despair,
+I realized it could not penetrate the Theradin integument without
+weight and pressure behind it.</p>
+
+<p>I was too absorbed now in what had
+to be done to care just how I did it. So I wrenched forward with a
+convulsive movement that threw me, full-length, across the alien’s
+body. Although I still had no weight, the momentum of the movement
+drove the hypodermic needle deeply into the flesh of the “hand.”</p>
+
+<p>I
+pressed the catch, then picked myself up slowly, and looked around to
+see the crewman who had jeered at me with his head thrust through the
+lock again, regarding me with the distaste he had displayed toward the
+Theradin from the first. To him I was lower than the Theradin, having
+degraded myself by close contact with a nonhuman.</p>
+
+<p>Under that frigid,
+contemptuous stare, I was unable to speak. I could only silently
+withdraw the needle and hold it up. The rigid look of condemnation
+altered just a little, but not much. He remained silent, looking at me
+with something halfway between horror and accusation.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed years,
+centuries, eternities that he clung there, just looking at me, his face
+an elongated ellipse above the tight collar of his black leathers.
+Then, without even speaking, he slowly withdrew his head and the lock
+contracted behind him, leaving me alone with my sickening feel of
+contamination and an almost hysterical guilt.</p>
+
+<p>I hung the needle up on
+the air, curled myself into a ball, and, entirely unstrung, started
+sobbing like a fool.</p>
+
+<p>It must have been a long
+time before I managed to pull myself together, because before I even
+looked to see whether Haalvordhen was still alive, I heard the slight
+buzzing noise which meant it was a meal-period and that food had been
+sent through the chute to our cabin. I pushed the padding listlessly
+aside, and withdrew the heatsealed containers—one set colorless, the
+other set nonhuman fluorescent.</p>
+
+<p>Tardily conscious of what a fool I’d
+been making of myself, I hauled my rations over to the skyhook, and
+tucked them into a special slot, so that they wouldn’t float away.
+Then, with a glance at the figure stretched out motionless beneath the
+safety-strap of the other skyhook, I shrugged, pushed myself across the
+cabin again, and brought the fluorescent containers to Haalvordhen.</p>
+
+<p>He
+made a weary, courteous noise which I took for acknowledgment. By now
+heartily sick of the whole business, I set them before him with a bare
+minimum of politeness and withdrew to my own skyhook, occupying myself
+with the always-ticklish problem of eating in free-fall.</p>
+
+<p>At last I drew
+myself up to return the containers to the chute, knowing we wouldn’t
+leave the cabin during the entire trip. Space, on a starship, is held
+to a rigid minimum. There is simply no room for untrained outsiders
+moving around in the cramped ship, perhaps getting dangerously close
+to critically delicate equipment, and the crew is far too busy to stop
+and keep an eye on rubbernecking tourists.</p>
+
+<p>In an emergency, passengers
+can summon a crewman by pressing a call-button. Otherwise, as far as
+the crew was concerned, we were in another world.</p>
+
+<p>I paused in midair
+next to Haalvordhen’s skyhook. His containers were untouched and I felt
+moved to say, “Shouldn’t you try to eat something?”</p>
+
+<p>The flat voice had
+become even weaker and more rasping now, and the nonhuman’s careful
+enunciation was slurred. Words of his native Samarran intermingled with
+queer turns of phrase which I expected were literally rendered from
+mental concepts. “Heart-kind of you, <i>thakkava</i> Vargas Miss, but late.
+Haalvordhen-I deep in grateful wishing—” A long spate of Samarran, thickly
+blurred followed, then as if to himself, “Theradin-we, die nowhere
+only on Samarra, and only a little time ago Haalvordhen-I knowing must
+die, and must returning to home planet. <i>Saata</i>. Knowing to return and
+die there where Theradin-we around dying—” The jumble of words blurred
+again, and the limp “hands” clutched spasmodically, in and out.</p>
+
+<p>Then,
+in a queer, careful tone, the nonhuman said, “But I am not living
+to return where I can stop-die. Not so long Haalvorden-I be lasting,
+although Vargas-you Miss be helping most like <i>real</i> instead of
+alien. Sorry your people be most you unhelping—” he
+stopped again, and with a queer little grunting noise, continued, “Now
+Haalvordhen-I be giving Vargas-you stop-gift of heritage, be needful it
+is.”</p>
+
+<p>The flaccid form of the nonhuman suddenly stiffened, went rigid.
+The drooping lids over the Theradin’s eyes seemed to unhood themselves,
+and in a spasm of fright I tried to fling myself backward. But I did
+not succeed. I remained motionless, held in a dumb fascination.</p>
+
+<p>I felt
+a sudden, icy cold, and the sharp physical nausea crawled over me again
+at the harsh and sickening touch of the alien on my mind, not in words
+this time, but in a rapport even closer—a hateful touch so intimate
+that I felt my body go limp in helpless fits and spasms of convulsive
+shuddering under the deep, hypnotic contact.</p>
+
+<p>Then a wave of darkness
+almost palpable surged up in my brain. I tried to scream, “<i>Stop it,
+stop it!</i>” And a panicky terror flitted in my last conscious thought
+through my head. <i>This is why, this is the reason humans and telepaths
+don’t mix</i>—</p>
+
+<p>And then a great dark door opened under my senses and I
+plunged again into unconsciousness.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>It was not more than a few seconds,
+I suppose, before the blackness swayed and lifted and I found myself
+floating, curled helplessly in midair, and seeing, with a curious
+detachment, the Theradin’s skyhook below me. Something in the
+horrid limpness of that form stirred me wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>With a tight band
+constricting my breathing, I arrowed downward. I had never seen a dead
+Theradin before, but I needed no one to tell me that I saw one now.
+The constricting band still squeezed my throat in dry gasps, and in a
+frenzy of hysteria I threw myself wildly across the cabin, beating and
+battering on the emergency button, shrieking and sobbing and screaming....</p>
+
+<p>They kept me drugged all the rest of the trip. Twice I remember waking
+and shrieking out things I did not understand myself, before the stab
+of needles in my arm sent me down into comforting dreams again. Near
+the end of the flight, while my brain was still fuzzy, they made me
+sign a paper, something to do with witnessing that the crew held no
+responsibility for the Theradin’s death.</p>
+
+<p>It didn’t matter. There was
+something clear and cold and shrewd in my mind, behind the surface
+fuzziness, which told me I must do exactly what they wanted, or I
+would find myself in serious trouble with the Terran authorities.
+At the time I didn’t even care about that, and supposed it was the
+drugs. Now, of course, I know the truth.</p>
+
+<p>When the ship made planetfall
+at Samarra, I had to leave the <i>Vesta</i> and trans-ship for Terra. The
+<i>Vesta</i>’s little captain shook me by the hand and carefully avoided my
+eyes, without mentioning the dead Theradin. I
+had the feeling—strange, how clear it was to my perceptions—that he
+regarded me in the same way he would regard a loaded time bomb that
+might explode at any moment.</p>
+
+<p>I knew he was anxious to hurry me aboard
+a ship for Terra. He offered me special reservations on a linocruiser
+at a nominal price, with the obvious lie that he owned a part interest
+in it. Detachedly I listened to his floundering lies, ignored the hand
+he offered again, and told a lie or two of my own. He was angry. I knew
+he didn’t want me to linger on Samarra.</p>
+
+<p>Even so, he was glad to be rid of me.</p>
+
+<p>Descending at last from the eternal formalities of the Terran
+landing zone, I struck out quickly across the port city and hailed a
+Theradin ground-car. The Theradin driving it looked at me curiously,
+and in a buzzing voice informed me that I could find a human conveyance
+at the opposite corner. Surprised at myself, I stopped to wonder what I
+was doing. And then—</p>
+
+<p>And then I identified myself in a way the Theradin
+could not mistake. He was nearly as surprised as I was. I clambered
+into the car, and he drove me to the queer, block-shaped building which
+my eyes had never seen before, but which I now knew as intimately
+as the blue sky of Terra.</p>
+
+<p>Twice, as I crossed the twisting ramp, I
+was challenged. Twice, with the same shock of internal surprise, I
+answered the challenge correctly.</p>
+
+<p>At last I came before a Theradin
+whose challenge crossed mine like a sure, sharp lance, and the result
+was startling. The Theradin Haalvamphrenan leaned backward twice in
+acknowledgment, and said not in words—“Haalvordhen!”</p>
+
+<p>I answered in the same fashion. “Yes. Due to certain blunders, I could
+not return to
+our home planet, and was forced to use the body of this alien. Having
+made the transfer unwillingly, under necessity, I now see certain
+advantages. Once within this body, it does not seem at all repulsive,
+and the host is highly intelligent and sympathetic.</p>
+
+<p>“I regret the
+feeling that I am distasteful to you, dear friend. But, consider.
+I can now contribute my services as messenger and courier, without
+discrimination by these mind-blind Terrans. The law which prevents
+Theradin from dying on any other planet should now be changed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes,” the other acquiesced, quickly grasping my meaning. “But now
+to personal matters, my dear Haalvordhen. Of course your possessions
+are held intact for you.”</p>
+
+<p>I became aware that I possessed five fine
+residences upon the planet, a private lake, a grove of Theirry-trees,
+and four hattel-boats. Inheritance among the Theradin, of course, is
+dependent upon continuity of the mental personality, regardless of
+the source of the young. When any Theradin
+died, transferring his mind into a new and younger host, the new host
+at once possessed all of those things which had belonged to the former
+personality. Two Theradin, unsatisfied with their individual wealth,
+sometimes pooled their personalities into a single host-body, thus
+accumulating modest fortunes.</p>
+
+<p>Continuity of memory, of course, was
+perfect. As Helen Vargas, I had certain rights and privileges as a
+Terran citizen, certain possessions, certain family rights, certain
+Empire privileges. And as Haalvordhen, I was made free of Samarra as
+well.</p>
+
+<p>In a sense of strict justice, I “told” Haalvamphrenan how the
+original host had died. I gave him the captain’s name. I didn’t envy
+him, when the <i>Vesta</i> docked again at Samarra. “On second thought,”
+Haalvamphrenan <i>said</i> reflectively, “I shall merely commit suicide in
+his presence.”</p>
+
+<p>Evidently Helen-Haalvordhen-I had a very long and
+interesting life ahead of me.</p>
+
+<p>So did all the other Theradin.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter"></div><div class="transnote">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note">
+    Transcriber’s Note:
+  </h2>
+
+
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5,
+No. 2). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+<p>Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, while
+minor inconsistencies have been kept as is.</p>
+</blockquote>
+</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79243 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+
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+[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook [#79243](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79243)