"This is a simulation!" I cried. "Nothing more than a trick. You are transmitting sights and sounds to Starbiter, who is transmitting them to me; but I cannot feel anything, because the Zarett is unable to send me such sensations."

"Ooo, aren’t you the smarty-pants!" said the voice. "Except for the pants. Doesn’t your backside get breezy?"

I looked around. There was no sign of anyone else in the bubbly volcanic landscape — nothing but the garden and the lava, plus some peaky black mountains on the farthest horizon. The sky was empty too: an ashy maroon with no clouds or stars. "Are you hiding, Mr. Asshole?" I called. "Or are you preparing an extravagant entrance you think will impress me?"

"Bright girl," the voice chuckled. "You’re obviously miles ahead of my feeble brain."

With a surging explosion of smoke, something erupted from the depths of the closest lava pool. It was big and white, with fizzing droplets of molten rock running off its hide. Where the drips spilled onto the blood-red flowers, the plants sprouted brand-new blossoms that appeared with a soft screaming sound. The screams were an excellent touch — if one intends to simulate a volcanic garden, there is admirable showmanship in flowers that howl as they grow.

But the white thing continued to rise from the magma, as if it were standing on a submerged platform being lifted by an elevator mechanism. I could see now the beast was exceedingly leathery, the approximate size and pebbly texture of a rhinoceros.[4] It had four massive legs and even a fuzzy tail tucked between the armorlike slabs of hide covering its haunches… but unlike a rhinoceros, this creature had no horn. It had no nose at all, and no eyes or mouth either, because the animal completely lacked a head — its neck simply stopped at the throat, where an open hole led back into the chest cavity.

[4] — Although I had never seen a living rhinoceros, the teaching machines in my village had shown me many excellent pictures of them. Also elephants. And kangaroos. And many other creatures who did not make their homes in my part of the world but had endearing qualities such as being eaten by their mates or spitting lethal venoms.

As I watched, the headless creature leaned forward so the hole in its neck tilted downward. A thick gout of lava poured out of the gap, as if the beast were emptying unwanted fillage that had flowed into the opening while submerged. "God, that itches," the animal said in a gargly voice. It made a hawking sound in its throat the way a crude person does before spitting; then a wad of lava spurted out the neckhole and splashed back into the pool.

"That’s better," it said in a much clearer tone. "How ’bout you? Not too intimidated by seeing the real me?"

"Why should I believe I am seeing the real you? Since this is just a projected image, you may look nothing like a headless rhinoceros. You could be something small and squishy, attempting to make yourself look more impressive."

"If I wanted to make myself look impressive, I’d pick something better than a headless fucking rhino." The beast stepped from the surface of the lava onto the solid ground of the garden; the flowers he tread upon gave high-pitched squeals and dragged themselves out of the way, ripping their roots from the soil and replanting themselves at a safe distance. I stared at them… and the beast noticed me looking. He glanced at the fleeing plants, then up at me. "Too much?" "Yes, You are trying too hard to dazzle me."

"Fair enough," he said. "Screw the special effects." He slopped across the garden toward me, now moving through the flowers as if they were not even there. They did not screech or pull away; they did not even quiver as his body passed through leaves and blossoms that were no more solid than smoke. Or perhaps it was the beast himself who had become insubstantial — large and white and unnatural, coming toward me like a decapitated ghost.

As the creature drew nearer, I got an unobstructed view of the gaping hole where his head should have been. The sky’s dim red light did not pierce far into the beast’s inner blackness; yet down his open throat, as deep as his heart and lungs, two crimson orbs glowed like the dying coals of a campfire. I suspected these were Baleful Burning Eyes, buried in the recesses of the creature’s body… but if so, it was a most foolish place to locate one’s sight, because one’s view would be greatly restricted by the sides of one’s own neck.

I myself would not enjoy that type of tunnel vision; but then, we must not expect aliens to see things our way.

Introductions

"So," the beast said, "let’s deal with formalities." He took a deep breath, then rattled off quickly, "Greetings-I-am-asentient-citizen-of-the-League-of-Peoples-I-beg-your-Hospitality-what-a-load-of-hor seshit."

"Oh yes," I replied. "Me too. Except for the horseshit."

I was vexed I had not been the first to speak the required phrase. As official communications officer, I should have been faster, but this creature had deliberately distracted me with ostentatious spectacle, so that was my excuse.

"And it’s time to introduce myself," the creature said. "I’m called the Pollisand. Does that ring any bells?"

Searching my memory, I could not recall hearing the name; but suddenly I remembered my conversation with the woman in the Tower of Ancestors. She claimed I had been visited by a big white thing like some animal, except without a head. "Your name is unfamiliar," I said, "but you came to me on Melaquin, after I fell."

"Give the glass lady a transparent cigar!" the Pollisand cried. "I brought you back from the dead."

"You did not! I am not such a creature as can die."

"Oh, you can die, cheri," the Pollisand said. "You are more than capable of that little feat. The only reason your species doesn’t kick the bucket more often is because you’re a bunch of pre-industrial hayseeds — so damned Paleolithic, you’ve never invented weapons more lethal than pointy sticks. As if those could pierce your hard glass heinies!

"But," he went on, "you’ve left your world behind now, sweetums. You’ve entered the hostile high-tech universe, and there’s many a method to make you a corpse. Monofilament garrotes that can saw through your jugular. Hypersonic pistols to shatter your glass guts. Plain old dynamite or plastique. And that’s not to mention alien microbes or toxins — you may be immune to the diseases and poisons on Melaquin, but I guarantee you weren’t built to handle every damned biochemical compound in the galaxy. Bump against the wrong kind of leaf, and you might keel over like a poleaxed steer."

I looked down at the flowers brushing my legs. It would be most cowardly to back away from them, and anyhow they were unreal mental projections; so I stayed where I was. "Perhaps it is true I now have a heightened risk of decease," I said, "but it is most unlikely you came just to warn me of such dangers. What do you want?"

Before he could answer — or at least before he did answer — a patch of scarlet flowers rustled behind me. I turned quickly, expecting attack; all this time, the Pollisand might have been a devious villain whose only goal was to provide distraction while a confederate stole up on me from behind. After being forced to flee from the stick-ship and the human navy, it was pleasant to have the prospect of a solid enemy I could punch in the nose… but when a creature leapt from concealment, I was dismayed to see it had no nose.

It was a round gray ball the size of my own head; and as it sped toward me, I recognized its texture: gray strings on white goo. Furthermore, the creature was not attacking so much as bouncing — a small gray animal jumping up and down with excitement, scrambling around my ankles as it made happy little cheeps. It seemed to take pleasure from hopping against my calves, rebounding back, and skipping around to try the same thing at a new angle.