"Perhaps," he said, seating himself on the edge of her bed. "If the DYNAB means something to you, what are you doing here?"

She laughed as she moved to seat herself in a chair across from him.

"Tell me how to get back. Look at the only job I can have in this town. How long do you think it will take me to save the price of a ticket?"

"Are you indentured, or under any sort of contract?"

"No. Why?"

"I don't know much about the local laws. I was just considering whether I would have to get you out of here the hard way.

"Get me out of here? Back to the DYNAB?"

"Of course. That's what you want, isn't it?"

She turned away from him then and began to cry, silently. He did not move to interfere.

"Excuse me," she said, "I never-- I never expected anything like this to happen to me. Malacar to walk into my room and offer to take me away. It is something I have dreamed of ..."

"Then I take it your answer is 'yes'?"

"Thank you," she said. "Yes, yes it is! But there is something else ..."

He smiled.

"What? Perhaps a boy friend you want to take along? That can be arranged too."

She raised her head and her eyes flashed.

"No!" she said. "It is nothing like that! I would not have one of these men!"

"Sorry," he said.

She stared down at her sandals, her silvered toenails. He flicked his cigarette above a black metal ashtray on the table beside the bed.

When she spoke again, she spoke very slowly and did not look at him.

"I would like to do something for the DYNAB. I would like to help you with whatever you are about in Capeville."

He was silent for a time. Then, "How old are you, Jackara?" he asked.

"I am not certain. Around twenty-six, I think. At least, that is what I tell people. Perhaps twenty-eight. Maybe twenty-five. But just because I'm young--"

He raised a hand and silenced her.

"I am not trying to talk you out of anything. In fact, it is possible that you could be of some assistance to me. I asked your age for a reason. What do you know of _mwalakharan khurr_, which is generally called Deiban fever?"

She shifted her gaze to the ceiling.

"I know that it is not too common," she said. "I know that when it does hit you, there is a high fever and a darkening of the complexion. It is supposed to attack the central nervous system. After that, the breathing and the heartbeat are affected. And there is something about the liquids. The body does not exactly lose them, but cellular fluids go extracellular. That's right. And the cells do not reabsorb. That is why you get so thirsty but liquids do not help. You're a doctor, though. You know all that."

"What else do you know about the condition?"

"Well, there is no cure and it always kills you, if that is what you mean."

"Are you certain?" he asked. "Have you never heard of anyone living through it?"

She looked at him, puzzled.

"Nobody?" he said. "Nobody has ever lived through it?"

"Well, they said there was one man. But I was very young then, and it was right after the conflict. I do not remember very much."

"Tell me what you do remember. There must have been some talk about it later on."

"He was just a man who lived through it. They never even gave his name."

"Why not?"

"After he had been pronounced cured, they were afraid that he would still panic people if they knew who he was. So they withheld his name."

"H," he said. "Later on, they referred to him as H."

"Maybe," she said. "I do not know. That's about it, I guess."

"Where did they treat him? What hospital?"

"Here in town. But the place is gone now."

"Where did he come from?"

"The Mound. Everybody called him 'the man from the Mound' for a while."

"Was he a local man?"

"I do not know."

"What is the Mound?"

"It is sort of a plateau. You leave the peninsula and go about thirty miles inland, to the northwest. There is a ruined city there--Pei'an. Deiba used to be a part of the old Pei'an Empire. The city is all fallen down, and about the only people interested in it are archaeologists, geologists and visiting Pei'ans. They found him up there while they were deactivating part of the early warning equipment from the war, I guess. Anyhow, there was some sort of military installation set up there then, and when they went up to do something to it, they found this man. They brought him back in an isolation boat and he recovered."

"Thank you. You've been helpful."

She smiled, and he returned it.

"I have a gun," she said, "and I practice with it. I am very accurate, and fast."

"That is excellent."

"If there is anything dangerous that you want done--"

"Perhaps," he said. "You speak of this Mound as if you are familiar with the area. Can you get me a map, or draw me one?"

"There are no good maps," she said. "But I have been up there many times. I ride a lot too--the _kooryab_--and sometimes I ride inland. The Mound is a very good place for target practice. Nobody bothers you there."

"It is completely deserted?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then you will be able to show it to me."

"Yes, if you wish. There is not much to see, though. I had thought ..."

He mashed out his cigarette.

_She is clean, Shind?_

_Yes_.

"I am _really_ interested," he said, "and I know what you thought. You thought that I had come here for purposes of sabotage or revolution. This is more important, however. While a small act of violence may annoy the CL, they can live with it. But if the Mound can furnish me with the information that I want, I will have a clue as to the nature of the greatest terror weapon in the galaxy."

"What is it?"

"The identity of H."

"How could that help you?"

"I am keeping that to myself for now. I had better start by looking up there, though. If my man had a camp up there on the Mound, some traces might still remain, Of what sort, I do not know. But I'm sure that whoever brought him back would have left his gear alone or destroyed it--if they found it at all, that is. If it is still there, I want it."

"I will help," she said. "I want to help. But I do not get time off until--" and he rose to his feet, towered above her, leaned down, touched her shoulder.

She shuddered at the contact.

"You don't understand," he said. "This is your last day in this place. You're your own person now. In the morning I would like you to make arrangements for the purchase or rental of a couple or three of those _kooryabs_, and all the gear we will need to ride to the Mound and spend some time there--maybe a week or so. I don't want to lift ship and have any curious young port controllers track me. When we do ride out of here tomorrow, though, that will be the end of the story so far as you and this place are concerned. You do not have to concern yourself over 'time off' or 'time on.' You are quitting with minimum notice. That's legal here, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, sitting straight-backed and gripping the arms of the chair.

I did not want to, he thought. But she can help me in this respect. And she is a DYNAB girl the damned CL has driven half-nuts. She comes along.

"Then that is settled," he said, moving back to the bed and lighting another cigarette.

She seemed to relax.

"I believe that I will take a cigarette now--Malacar."

"Rory," he corrected.

"Rory," she agreed.

He rose again, gave her one, lit it for her, returned.

"I never heard anywhere about you being a telepath," she said, after a time.

"I'm not. It's sort of a trick. Tomorrow I might show you how I do it."

But not tonight, he thought. Gods! If it's taken this long to get you half-relaxed, I am not going to introduce you to a hairy Darvenian with eyes big as teacups. You would probably scream and they would bring on the bouncers.