Chapter IV: Part 4

The cosmetechnicians were busy and they couldn't stop. But there was one who looked up. "Get off?" she asked. "Why?"

He thought he'd told everyone. She must have arrived late. It was satisfying to repeat it. "Handicap Haven is leaving the solar system," he said.

Her fingers flew, molding the beautiful curve of a jaw where there had been none. Next, plastic lips were applied that were more lifelike than any this woman had ever created.

Soon Nona was hiding in half a hundred places.

And one more.

* * * * *

The orbit of Neptune was behind them, far behind, and still the asteroid accelerated. Two giant gravity generators strained at the crust and core of the asteroid. The third clamped an abnormally heavy gravity field around the fragment of an isolated world. Prolonged physical exertion was awkward and doubly exhausting. It tied right in; the guards were not and couldn't be very active. Hours turned into a day and the day passed too--and the generators never faltered. It seemed they never would.

"Have you figured it out precisely? It's your responsibility, you know," said Docchi ironically. "You share our velocity away from the sun. You'll have to overcome it before you start going back. If you wait too long you might not be able to reach Earth."

Superficially the general seemed to ignore him but the muscles in his jaw twitched. "If we could only turn off that damned drive."

"That's what we're trying to do," said Vogel placatingly.

"I know. But if we could do it without finding her."

The resident engineer shrugged sickly. "Go ahead. Try it. I don't want to be around when you do. I know, it sounds easy, just a couple of gravity generators. But remember there's also a good sized nuclear pile involved."

"I know, I know," muttered the general morosely. "Damned atomics not worth inventing. Nothing you can do with them, always too touchy." He glowered at the darkness overhead. "On the other hand we can take off and blow this rock apart from a safe distance."

"And lose all hope of finding her?" taunted Docchi.

"We're losing her anyway," commented Vogel sourly.

"You're getting way from the perspective. It's not as bad as that," counselled Docchi. "Now that you know where the difficulty is you can always build other computers and this time furnish them with auxiliary senses. Or maybe give them the facts of elementary astronomy."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" said Vogel disgustedly. "You don't need me here, do you, General? If not I'd like to go back to my ship." The general grunted consent and the engineer left, lurching under the massive gravity.

"There's even another solution though it may not appeal to you," said Docchi cautiously. "I can't believe Nona is altogether unique. There must be others like her, so-called 'born mechanics' whose understanding of machinery is a form of intelligence we haven't suspected. Look hard and you may find them, perhaps in the most unlikely or unlovely bodies." It didn't show but inwardly he was smiling. He was harassing them effectively from this end. Hope was sometimes the most demoralizing agent.

General Judd growled wearily. "If I thought you knew where she is----"

Docchi stiffened, glowing involuntarily.

"Forget the dramatics, General," said Cameron with distaste. "Resistance we'd have had in any event. He's responsible merely for making it more effective."

He frowned heavily, continuing. "At the moment what he's trying to do is obvious. He needn't bother tearing down our morale though--it's already collapsed. I can't think of a thing we can do that will help us." He wished the medicouncilor had been able to land; he needed further instructions. His own role wasn't clear and he kept thinking, thinking.... He should stop thinking. Of course the ship that carried the medicouncilor couldn't actually touch on the asteroid--there were too many important people aboard and they couldn't risk being taken out of the system. Still, the medicouncilor _might_ have spared a few minutes to discuss things with him. He knew what he ought to do.

The sun was high in the center of the dome. Sun? It was much more like a very bright star. It cast no shadows; it was the lights in the dome that did. They flickered and with monotonous regularity went out again. Each time the general swore constantly and emotionlessly until service was restored.

A guard approached, walking warily behind his captive. He saluted negligently. "I think I've found her, sir."

Cameron looked at the girl. "I don't think you have. And it seems to me you were unnecessarily rough."

The guard smirked with bland insolence. "Orders, sir."

"Whose orders?"

"Yours, sir. You said she couldn't talk or make any kind of a sound. It was the easiest way to make sure. She didn't say a thing."

Cameron turned to the general but saw he'd get no support there. Judd was scowling, completely indifferent to the guard's behavior.

The doctor snapped open the sharp scalpel and thrust it savagely deep in the girl's thigh. She looked at him with a tear-stained face but didn't complain or move a muscle.

"Plastic tissue as any fool can plainly see," said Cameron dourly. His rage was growing.

The guard stared, twisting his lips. "Let her go," snapped the doctor.

The girl darted away. The guard saluted stiffly and left, rubbing his hands against his uniform. He'll go and scrub his hands, because he touched her, Cameron thought wearily.

"I have a request to make," said Docchi.

"Sure, sure," said the general cholerically. "We're apt to give you what you want. If you don't see it, just ask. We'll send out and get it."

"You might at that." Docchi was smiling openly. "You're going to leave without Nona, and very soon. When you go, don't take all the ships. You won't need them but we will, when we get to another system."

The general started to reply but his anger was greater than his epithets. There was nothing left to use, and so he remained silent.

"Don't say anything you'll regret," cautioned Docchi. "When you get back, what will you report? Can you tell your superiors that you left in good order, while there was still time to continue the search? Or will they like it better if they know you stayed until the last minute--so late that you had to transfer your men and abandon some ships? Think it over. I have your interests at heart."

The general swallowed with difficulty, his face reddening at first and then becoming quite white. Wordlessly he stamped away. Cameron looked after the retreating officer and in a few minutes followed. But he walked slower and the distance between doctor and officer grew greater. Docchi was beginning to relax at the nearness of victory and didn't notice where either of them went.

* * * * *

The last rocket disappeared, leaving a trail behind that overwhelming darkness soon extinguished. The sun was now one bright star among many, which one was sometimes difficult to say. And the asteroid itself seemed subtly to have been transformed, more spacious than it had been and not so dingy--and it was not hard to find a reason--it had become a miniature world, a tiny system complete in itself.

"I think we can survive," said Docchi. "We've got power and we can replenish the oxygen. We'll have to grow or synthesize our food but actually the place was set up originally to do just that. It will take work to make everything serviceable again--but we've always wanted something more than meaningless routine."

They were sitting beside the tank, which had been returned to the usual place. A tree rustled in the artificial breeze and the grass around them had been torn and trampled by the guards. It seemed more peaceful because of the violence which had lately swept over them. Now it had ebbed and it would never come back.

Jordan teetered beside the tree. "We'll find some way to get Anti out of the tank," he said. "When Nona comes back maybe we can rig up a null gravity place--something to make Anti more comfortable. And of course we've got to continue the cold treatment."

"I can wait," said Anti, "I've already waited a long time."

Docchi glanced around; his eyes were following his mind, which was wandering and searching.

"Now there's no need to worry," said Anti. "The guards were rough with some of the women but plastic tissue doesn't feel pain and so they escaped with fewer injuries than you'd believe. As for Nona, well, she can look out not only for herself but the rest of us as well."

It was almost true; she seemed fragile, ethereal even, but she wasn't. And her awareness began where that of normal humans left off. And where her perceptions ended no one knew, least of all herself. Right there was a source of trouble. "I think we should start looking," said Docchi. "At the last moment, upset at leaving and not knowing or caring who she was, one of the guards might have----" The enormity of the thought was too great to complete.

"Listen," said Anti. The ground vibrated, felt rather than heard. "As long as the gravity is functioning can there be any doubt?"

In his mind there could be. Nona had started it but once the gravity computer was informed of the nature of the universe there was no reason to suppose that it wouldn't keep running indefinitely. It existed to perform such tasks. It didn't actually have volition--but that applied to stopping as well.

"I think I can convince you," said Jordan. "First you'll have to turn around."

Docchi scrambled to his feet and there she was coming toward them, fresh and rested. There was a smudge on her cheek but she might have got that from some machine she'd stopped to investigate on the way here. Her curiosity was not limited and there was nothing mechanically so insignificant that it escaped her attention.

"Where were you?" asked Docchi, expecting no reply. She smiled and for a moment he thought she knew what he asked. He was relieved that she was safe--and that was all. Something was missing in the reactions he expected from himself but he couldn't say where. At one time he had thought--and now he no longer did. Perhaps it was an expression of the new freedom they had all achieved.

Jordan looked at him quizzically, half penetrating the screen he'd thrown over his lack of emotions. "It's not as bad as you think. She understands some things. Machines."

And a machine he was not. He wasn't even a complete human. Perhaps that was where the difference was.

"She's a born mechanic, such as never existed. It's about time one appeared in the human race. We've worked with machines long enough to evolve someone who understands them without having to study and learn. I'm that way myself, a little. Nothing like her."

They all knew that. Even on Earth they were probably busy revising their intelligence ratings. "That doesn't change our problem--her problem."

Jordan hesitated. "The idea's pretty vague but we've made one advance: we know she can think."

"We always did," said Anti.

"Sure, we did. But doctors and psychologists weren't convinced and they were the ones who were studying her. Now it's up to us."

There was a difference. No matter what they'd thought, previously they'd been patients, and it was axiomatic that the patient's ideas were largely ignored. Now they had stepped into a dual role, patient and doctor, subject and experimenter, the eye at the microscope and the object on the slide.

They all had second-hand medical training--with long association some of it had rubbed off on them. There wasn't one of them who didn't know his own body far better than the average man. That knowledge, subjective though it was, could be pooled. Fortunately they had a well equipped hospital to work with.

"We'll have to get busy on Nona," continued Jordan. "Where are we going? She knows but we don't. There's got to be some way to find out."

It hadn't mattered before--it was enough that they were leaving. But once they had achieved that, new problems were thrusting up every direction they looked. "What do you suggest?" asked Docchi.

"An oscillograph," said Jordan triumphantly.

Docchi shook his head. "No good. She's been around them often enough to show an interest if she really feels any."

"Maybe she could learn to write, actually, on the screen."

"She hasn't changed and I doubt if her interests have. From what we know she doesn't use words; she thinks directly in terms of mechanical function. The gravity computer was the first thing she found complex enough to arouse her interest."

"But she's always been near the computer."

"That's not so. She came here years ago and though there was a computer in the ship that brought her she wasn't mature enough to use it. Since then she's been kept away from the main computers the same as the rest of us have been."

Jordan leaned on his hands and rocked thoughtfully. "She learned all that during the few hours we were on the ship?"

"It was days," said Docchi. "Yes, she did. It was the only opportunity she had." It was a strange language she'd learned, the code a complex computer used inside itself, the stop, go; current and no current; the electron stream; the mechanical memory rocked back and forth magnetically--and all the while the whisper of a steel tape as it coiled and uncoiled. It was possible that only a computer would ever be able to understand the girl. And yet she was a creature of flesh, bones, glands, nerves, and blood flowing through her veins in response to the intangible demands of life.

Anti stirred restlessly. Waves of acid spilled over the sides and where the fluid touched, grass curled and blackened. "I said I'd wait but I didn't say I liked waiting. Why don't you two get busy?"

"I was thinking where to begin," said Jordan. He hoisted himself onto a repair robot he'd taken for himself. It was an uncomfortable vehicle for anyone else but it seemed just right for him.

Docchi got up; there was no question where to start. Anything they considered needed something done. In the struggle for freedom, in their resistance to the guards, they'd overlooked it. They'd have to reorient their outlook. Perhaps that was the biggest thing that confronted them.

"Goodbye," Anti called out as they left. The picture Docchi looked back to was unforgettable--the tank and Anti in it, Nona sitting in blank pensiveness under the tree. One was capable of near miracles with seemingly little effort, but at times she seemed inert. The other was raw vitality with an urge to live--but there was hardly any time she could stand upright.

Docchi hurried along, trying to keep up with Jordan. He lengthened his pace but still the gap grew. After a while he slowed down, attempting to assess the damage the guards had done as he passed by evidence of their destructiveness.

Visibly they seemed to have torn everything apart but actually not much had been destroyed. Mostly the repairs would consist in reassembling machines and structures that had been dismantled. This wasn't the result of consideration. Until the last moment the general had been certain he'd find Nona and hence retain possession of the asteroid. If he had, the unnecessary violence would have been hard to explain. Lucky--because the guards _could_ have wrecked the place.

They'd still have difficulty; even able-bodied men would, and they were far from that. They were not equipped for an expedition of this nature and somehow they'd have to build what they lacked. Light and heat, the function of power, was automatic, and the oxygen supply was nearly so. It was with the lesser things they'd have trouble. Some food had always been brought in, and now that supply was gone. It would have to be replaced. They could do without other luxuries now that they had the biggest one--freedom to do what they wanted.

Docchi himself was a good engineer and Nona couldn't be too highly evaluated. Between them they could convert unnecessary equipment into something they needed. Two geepees and a repair robot taken apart and properly reassembled might equal some inconceivable machine that would go a long way toward solving problems of food, air, meteor detection or what have you. It was a thought.

Jordan clung perilously to the robot as it rumbled along. "Where is everyone?" he called back.

"Asleep, I guess," said Docchi.

"Sleeping, when there's so much to be done?"

Habit had taken over. The mechanisms of the asteroid were still operating as they were set to function. The lighting in the dome indicated it was time and so they slept. But there were no hours, days, weeks, and moments any more, nothing but necessity to guide them.

"We'll change this," said Docchi. "Most of us have been treated as invalids so long we believe it. We'll divide up in groups and from now on somebody will always be awake, working or watching, or both."

It was obvious what the watch would be for. Empty space--but how empty? The region near Sol had been explored but what lay beyond? Between the sun and Alpha Centauri there might be many interstellar masses large enough to smash the asteroid. They'd have to take precautions.

Jordan sent the machine along faster as if to compensate for others' inactivity. Presently he stopped abruptly, waiting for Docchi to catch up. He glanced down in front of his machine. "Here's one of them who was very sleepy," he said. "Unless----"

Docchi looked at her. It was one of the Nonas who hadn't yet removed the disguise. The cosmetechnicians had done their work well and it was difficult to say who she was. There was a startling resemblance to the girl they'd just left with Anti. She was curled up in an uncomfortable position and it was obvious she wasn't there by choice.

Jordan swung off the machine and felt her pulse. "There is one," he muttered, carefully looking her over. "Can't see anything," he said at last. "At first I thought the guards had done it but there's no broken bones nor, as far as I can tell, internal injuries. She ought to have a medical examination."

Startled, Docchi glittered. Medical care was one of the luxuries they'd have to do without. They needn't fear epidemics; they were isolated and their bodies were phenomenally resistant to disease and anyway the antibiotics they had would quell any known infections. But here was something they hadn't accounted for. "There are a few people around who used to be nurses," said Docchi. "We'd better get them."

"Where?" grunted Jordan. "She needs attention now."

Jordan was right; the girl couldn't wait. Part of the difficulty was that there were so many accidentals with peculiarities. What was safe for one accidental might be deadly to another. They had to know who the girl was before they could decide whether to do anything. The disguise had helped them get away but it was hurting them now. "Can you pry off the makeup?" he asked.

"Without the goop they carry in the cosmetic kit? Hardly. I'd tear her own face off."

It could mean her death to move her before something was done--but what was that something? She would know; everyone did. They were all experts on their own ailments and could give down to the last item on their prescription, diet or exercise, a concise analysis of what they had to do to maintain their health.

Jordan shook her gently, harder when that failed. Presently she stirred, her eyes fluttered and she whispered something.

"Ask her who she is," said Docchi, but that was impossible. It had taken strength to respond at all and after she'd used it the girl had lapsed back in the coma.

"She didn't say," said Jordan helplessly. "She whispered one word--food. That was all."

Food. Docchi knelt beside her to check his conclusions. Now that he was close he could see that her skin was extraordinarily smooth and lustrous. Her face, arms, legs, even her hands, and if they removed her clothing the rest of her body would be the same. Her skin and the mention of food told him what he needed to know. It was Jeriann, the first volunteer Nona--and the first real casualty.

He could reconstruct with some accuracy what had happened. After Cameron discovered who she was she'd been kept in custody and given medical care. As the search wore on and more guards were sent out to search she had managed to escape, hiding from the guards. But she had remained hidden too long and had collapsed trying to get to the hospital.

Hunger shock, simply that, but with her hunger was a traumatic experience. Having no digestive system at all she was always close to starvation. "Pick her up. It won't hurt her," said Docchi. "Let's rush her to the dispensary."

Jordan hoisted the limp girl to the top of the repair robot, wrapping extensibles around her, adjusting them so they held her. He got on beside her, reaching into the controls and squeezing extra speed out of the makeshift ambulance.

Docchi was not far behind, arriving at the hospital not long after Jordan and his passenger did. The dispensary was on the first floor and so Jordan wheeled the robot directly to the door. He dismounted and lifted Jeriann off.

Inside the dispensary there was little that had actually been broken. This was remarkable considering how thoroughly the guards had ransacked the hospital. But someone with a grim sense of humor had seen to it that the medical preparations were hopelessly intermixed, scattered over the floor in complete confusion. For the present emergency it couldn't have been worse if everything _had_ been broken.

Docchi stared down at the litter, his face twitching as he glanced back at Jeriann.

"It's in here somewhere," said Jordan. "How do we find it in a hurry?"

"See if there are names or symbols on them."

Jordan was close to the floor anyway; he leaned down and began pawing hastily but with extreme care through the confusion of medicals. Every bit of it was precious even though they didn't know what it was. Someone could use it, had to have it, and eventually they'd be able to place whom it was intended for. "No names," said Jordan as he continued to look.

Docchi was afraid of that, but it was a thought for the future. Hereafter there _would_ be names on everything so that even if it got displaced they'd be able to identify it. The medical administration must have been exceedingly lax. "What about symbols?" he said quickly.

"There seem to be some. Don't know what they mean." Jordan brightened. "We can look in the files."

Docchi bent his body. He'd observed that when he entered. "Won't do any good. The files are scattered too." And that was an act of wanton hatred. It hadn't helped the guards find Nona.

Jordan stopped scrabbling through the piles of miscellaneous bottles, capsules, and vials. "Then we've got to go for help," he said slowly. "There's got to be somebody who knows what she takes looks like."

He couldn't condemn her so easily and that's what it would mean if she wasn't attended to in the next few minutes. There was a line beyond which the body couldn't pass without extreme damage, perhaps death. And she'd been close to it when they found her. Docchi began to review desperately what he knew of Jeriann. It wasn't much. There were too many accidentals for him to know all of them.

First, she never ate or drank. Her needs in this respect were supplied medically. That was why her skin was so soft and evenly beautiful. It was not a reflection of inner health. If anything it was due to the method of intake. _And that told him what he had to know._

Another accidental might have guessed it instantly, but there were various kinds of accidentals, groups within groups, and their peculiarities varied so widely that few knew what all of them were. In one sense Jeriann was a deficient.

"I think we can find it. Look for the largest capsule," said Docchi.

"I know what you're thinking, but it won't work," said Jordan, sweeping his arm around to indicate how impossible the request was. "She gets all her food and water that way so it has to be the largest. But which one? Some of the preparations are supposed to last for weeks. They might be bigger than hers."

"It's simpler than you suppose. I don't know what her schedule is but it must be at least five times daily, and massive at that. It would be exceedingly painful, not to say inconvenient, if she got all her food and fluid needs by injection."

"Absorption capsules," exclaimed Jordan. "Why didn't I think of that? That makes it easy."

"Don't be so sure. There are other deficients," cautioned Docchi.

Jordan had cleared a space around him and was already separating the preparations. At first glimpse the absorption capsules were like any other container--and then they weren't. The shape was not quite regular and the outside was soft to the touch, almost like human flesh. That's what it was, almost. And in time, when properly applied, that's what it did become.

Further, there was a thin film on one side. When this was peeled off and the exposed surface was pressed against the body, only surgery could remove it.

Jordan gazed in indecision at the absorption capsules he'd assembled in the cleared space near Jordan. "Which one is hers?" he said doubtfully. "They're all alike."

Actually they weren't. There were subtle differences in size and shape that would enable anyone who was familiar with it to distinguish his preparation from any other. Another deficient might say which was Jeriann's since generally they'd be more observant of these matters. But it did no good to wish that the girl's friends were here. "We'll have to keep looking," said Jordan, hitching himself over to the heap of medicals he'd just gone through.

It hadn't worked out as well as he'd expected. Reflection should have shown it wouldn't. The capsules were expensive and difficult to make and so they wouldn't be used except where the sheer volume and the repetitive nature of the injection required it. There was probably no case on the asteroid as extreme as Jeriann's, but once a day instead of five was still repetition. "There's nothing in that pile," said Docchi harshly. "You've gone through it and I watched."

Jordan paused; he knew it too. "What'll we do?"

"Simplify it. Toss out the smaller ones until only fifteen are left." There was no real reason for selecting that figure, none but this: in her dazed condition she'd have time for one glance. If it wasn't there, it just wasn't.

Jordan complied, exceedingly dextrous when he had to be, though more than dexterity was involved. Visual comparison had to suffice and it was never harder to make. "That look about right?" asked Jordan when he finished.

"It should be one of them," said Docchi. He was guessing. They both knew they were. The capsules were set near Jeriann, about the size of a man's fist. One of them, the one for Jeriann, was remarkably small considering it had to supply the total needs of a human body. For a fraction of a day only, a fourth or a sixth, but even so it was little. She must be always hungry. It would never do to mention food to her.

Jordan raised her up gently, tilting her limp body so she could see what she had to choose from. He glanced at Docchi for confirmation and then began to slap her. Still the consciousness was buried deep. He hit her harder until breath ran shudderingly into her lungs. "Which one?" he asked quickly, as soon as her eyes flickered open, running over the array of capsules.

He grabbed the one she seemed to indicate, holding it closer. "Is this it?" Her eyes dropped shut and she couldn't answer. Jordan laid her down. He wiped his hands on the sacklike garment. "She recognized this one," he said, not looking at Docchi.

So she had, but was it recognition of something that was _hers_? "I could see that. We'll give it to her."

"Should I sterilize it or something?"

Jordan wanted to delay because he wasn't sure. And they couldn't delay, even if it was the wrong thing. It might be like giving sugar to a person in a diabetic coma, the certain way of finishing him off faster. And yet with Jeriann it had to be done. Actually very little time had elapsed since they found her, five or ten minutes. What they didn't know was how long she'd lain there.

Docchi shook his head. "The absorption capsule was meant to be administered under any condition. Outside of puncturing it and squirting in a virus culture there's no way to harm it. It's self-sterilizing."

"I forgot," said Jordan. "Where'll I give it to her?"

"Anywhere. Oh, I guess maybe her thigh. It may sink in faster since she's gone so long without."

Jordan brushed her skirt up and carefully peeled off the film on one side, making certain the exposed surface didn't come in contact with his hand. The capsule contracted as the film came off, rhythmically writhing. The shape changed too; it was like nothing so much as a giant amoeba. Quickly Jordan thrust the raw surface of the squirming thing on Jeriann's thigh. It was not alive but it was capable of motion and it moved a quarter of an inch before it adhered.

It stuck there. It was one with the girl, it _was_ her; and the correct injection or not it couldn't be removed. The fluid in that pseudobody was being injected into Jeriann through the countless pores it covered--through her skin without a puncture. It was no wonder her skin was radiantly beautiful--five times a day an area of ten to fifteen square inches. In a short time her body would be covered, and she never could use the same place on successive days. She achieved clarity and flawlessness of complexion, but at a price. At a price.

Jordan wiped his forehead. "Shouldn't we be seeing some results?" he said anxiously.

"It has a long way to go," Docchi assured him. "Into her bloodstream and to her muscles and glands, to her brain. In a minute now if we don't see some results we'll know we've failed."

They waited.

8

Docchi slumped in the chair, looking the place over with some satisfaction. The medical inventory was proceeding quite well; one by one each preparation was being identified and the local source checked. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had assumed at first; they were nearly self-sufficient.

One of the checkers came in. Docchi recognized her vaguely; he'd seen her around but that was all. He didn't know who she was nor what she did. Unless he was mistaken her arms and legs were her own, a trifle heavy but shapely enough. If there was anything about her that was camouflaged with plastic tissue it was her face--the sullen glamour was an exaggeration of nature and moreover her expression didn't change at all as she came nearer. There must be something with her face that couldn't be corrected surgically and so she'd overcompensated.

"We've got it all done," she said in a flat throaty voice. Glamour there too, in about the same degree.

"What?" he said. "Oh yes, the check of the biologicals. All identified?" He recalled her name, Maureen something or other.

"Everything that people claimed. There was some that no one knew what it was. Useless I suppose, or worse. It ought to be destroyed."

That was a logical assumption any time save now. Medicine was precious and had to be hoarded even if they didn't know what it was. "Save it, Maureen. Sooner or later someone will be in for it."

"They've all been in. You don't know how they rushed here when they learned the dispensary had been ransacked by the guards." She smiled with faint disdain.

He was beginning to doubt whether her expression came out of the cosmetic kit; it was applied with extraordinary skill if it had, flexible enough to allow her to smile without seeming strained. But if it actually was her face it was monotonous. How long could she keep up the glamour? "Don't be condescending, Maureen. Of course they were concerned. There are people who need those preparations to live comfortably, some in order to live at all."

"I know," she said. "I've personally contacted all the regular deficients."

She seemed to know more about it than he did. There was a fraternity of the ailing and degrees of confraternity. Within the accidentals there were special groups, allied by the common nature of their infirmity. It was possible she belonged to some such group or knew someone who did. The latter probably; there seemed to be nothing seriously wrong with her. "What do you suppose happened? Why is there some left?" said Docchi. "If everyone's been here all of it ought to be accounted for."

"They're always experimenting," said Maureen.

"Who?"

"Doctors," she said. "They try the latest ideas out on us and if we survive they use it on normal people."

There was some truth in it--not much, but the bitterness was there though Earth and all it stood for was far behind. "Don't blame them. They've got to make improvements," he said in mild reproof.

"You don't know," said Maureen. "Anyway, what I was saying is that there is some stuff we can't place. In each case it substitutes for one or more substances that have been in use up to now. We don't know who it's for."

It was more serious than he thought, if only in a negative sense. He straightened up. "How many are missing biologicals?"

"I didn't keep track accurately. Thirty or forty."

A small number compared to the total. _But thirty or forty invalids?_ And some would be affected seriously, depending on the nature of the preparation that couldn't be traced to the person who should have it. The man whose unaided body couldn't utilize calcium would certainly be in for trouble but not as soon as he who couldn't make use of, say, iron. "We'll find out," he said with a confidence he didn't altogether feel. "There are records around and we'll look into them." There were records but it was uncertain how complete they were after the guards had scattered them. "Do you know where they're kept?"

She shook her head, the sullen glamorous smile transfixing her face. "I wish I did," she said.

He was struck by the intensity. "Why?" he asked. He wanted to know too but it wasn't an emotional thing.

"Don't you know? I'm one of them."

One of what, he was about to ask before he realized she meant she was a deficient whose salvaged body lacked certain physiological elements. More, she was one whose preparation couldn't be identified. "Don't worry. It'll take us a little while to trace everything but we'll have it straightened out in a matter of days."

"You'd better," she said, and it was not exactly a threat. There were overtones he couldn't account for.

Before he could stop her she began loosening her dress and for the first time he saw that she wasn't breathing, that she never did. Her dress fluttered as the air went in and out, sleeping or waking, without volition, responding mechanically to the needs of her bloodstream. The breathing mechanism was hidden in her body, replacing her lungs. Moreover it was probably connected to her speech centers in such a way to release a certain amount to her throat when the nervous system demanded. Perhaps it accounted for the peculiar vibrant quality of her voice.

She pointed to the tube that was showing. "It's not just lungs I lack," she said. "Everyone, man or woman, manufactures both male and female hormones, in different proportions of course. Except me. I don't produce a single male hormone." She stared at him intently.

"Do you know what that means?" Her voice was rising, terror mingled with something else. "Without injections in a few months I'll be completely female. One hundred per cent woman and nothing else."

He thought he saw her grow more feminine before his eyes; reluctantly he turned away. Theoretically the completely female person should be repulsive, yet she wasn't. If anything, pathetic features dominated.

Pure feminity could destroy her, but how long would it take? He could discount her own estimate as arbitrary. She had decided on it in an attempt at self dramatization.

"You're fortunate," he said, and he couldn't keep his eyes from straying back to her. "There are plenty of people around, both men and women, who can be donors. There must be some way to extract the hormones you need from the bloodstream. Our medical techniques may be crude but we'll manage. Keep that in mind."

"I will--will you?" she asked, her lips parted, and it wasn't to breathe because she couldn't.

He had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly what she meant and it didn't have anything to do with what he'd said. Had she even been listening? Probably she hadn't. A pure male or female creature didn't exist but if one should come into being it would scarcely be human. To a human life mattered or death did but to the pure abstract creature there was only one thing of importance.

He looked up to see her coming toward him. "I'm afraid," she said, clasping him to her, carefully keeping the tube free and open. And she was afraid--it was not dramatization. The studied glamour slipped from her face. "I don't want to be like this," she whispered. "But if it happens--help me, please." Her nearness was overpowering, and deadly.

At length she drew away. Terror left her eyes--and it had been there, real though with other factors. Even in fear, and he was conscious of that and her deeper design, she had planned ahead against the time she might not be wholely human. It was something like to death to change drastically from a thinking reasoning person to someone who could react only to one stimulus.

"We'll see that nothing happens to you," he said with weak assurance. "There may be a delay but it won't be long. We'll work it out."

She was regarding him fixedly and he could see she was reverting. What he said wasn't penetrating. He cleared his throat. "You're as familiar with the place as any of us. Look around and see if you can find duplicate records. There may be a clue in them as to what the new preparations are for." Clarity returned to her face as he spoke. It would leave again and come back at decreasing intervals unless or until the hormone deficiency was corrected. How far she could descend and remain mentally unscathed he didn't know, nor did he want to find out. "Don't leave until I come back. Do you understand?"

She smiled invitingly to show that perhaps she did understand what he said. He knew now that the sullen glamour was real, and terrifying. She couldn't help any of her responses. Docchi hurried out; so little time had elapsed she must be nearly normal.

He thought of locking the door but there was no way to do that. The essence of a hospital was free access at all times, and so it was built. Besides, it wasn't a good idea to try to keep her in. Constraint might produce violent reaction.

Docchi slanted the louvers so that the place looked vacant and let it go at that. The best he could hope for was that Maureen wouldn't think of leaving.

He walked away. There were villages. Planned or otherwise, over the years dwellings and dormitories had gradually grown around three main centers. Externally there was not much to distinguish one village from the other except the distance from the hospital. The buildings nearest were little more than very large machines which fed, bathed, and tried to anticipate the intellectual stimulation of the almost helpless tenants. The houses in the farthest village, except for certain peculiarities, were much like any comfortable dwelling on Earth.

At the third village he found the house, glancing at the tiny light on the door. It was glowing; the occupant was at home. The numbered positions flashed on, indicating further that the person was awake and in bed. This information was necessary on the asteroid where many people suffered from some disability which might strike suddenly, leaving them helpless and unattended. Docchi leaned against the button and the light blinked him in.

Jeriann was sitting up in the middle of the bed; she seemed healthy and alert. "How do you feel?" he asked as he caught a chair with his foot and slid it near her.

She made a wry face and smiled. "Fine."

"No polite answers, please. Do you feel like work?"

"Now that you're here, no." She laughed outright at his discomfiture. "Maybe now you'll believe me when I say I'm all right. Do you?"

She didn't wait for his answer but smoothed the covers around her. "You're the one who found me, aren't you?"

"Jordan really. I was there."

She didn't attempt to thank him; help was expected. No one knew when his turn would come. "I guess you're wondering what I was doing there without my capsules."

He wasn't but he'd listen if she felt she had to talk. "It seemed strange you'd forget something like that. But everyone was confused then."

"Not me. I knew exactly what I was doing. I was running from some big lunk who kept chasing me all over the dome. He knew I wasn't Nona because I yelled for him to leave me alone. He didn't pay any attention and I guess I lost the absorbics just before he caught me."

"You don't have to talk about it if it's painful," he said impassively.

"What do you think?" she said scornfully. "You think I'd let _him_ bother me? I told him to go away or I'd slip my face off. He got sick right there and let go."

He smiled at her vigor. "It's a good thing he didn't take you at your word and let you remove the disguise."

"Thank you, kind sir. Now I know I'm pretty too." Her manner overcame the apparent sharpness. "Anyway there I was. I'd used up more energy than usual and I had nothing to take. I didn't make it to the hospital."

"I didn't know the details but I imagined something like that. You're lucky we found you and even more so that we were able to discover your particular absorbics in the dispensary mess."

"Right both times--but you didn't find my absorption capsules. They weren't there. Never are. I have to go directly to the lab to get them. Of course I couldn't expect you to know that."

"Then what are you doing here, alive?" he asked, frowning. "The wrong thing should have killed you."

"I'm not a true deficient, you know. It's not that my body fails to produce glandular substances. What I lack is food and water and anything that's composed mostly of that will do, providing it's in a form I can assimilate. When you slapped me and held me up I saw someone else's capsule but I knew it would do. That person has trouble with a number of blood sugars and several fluids--not what I require for a complete diet--but it brought me out of the hunger shock."

It was not ordinary hunger which had caused her to stumble and be unable to get up; this was acute, a trauma which affected her whole organism. And because it was such a constant threat, unconsciously or not, she had prepared for it. Deficients knew each other better than any other group. They were aware which prescription could in an emergency be substituted for their own. It was unlikely to be used--but that knowledge had paid off for Jeriann.

The house ticked on as he sat watching her. That was another peculiarity of the place, aside from the lack of kitchen or any room wherein she could eat. She didn't need it and so it hadn't been built. She didn't feel hunger except negatively; it would be easy to die if she should decide to do so. And so, to reinforce her will to live, a comprehensive schedule had been imposed from above. But the most rigid personal schedule meant nothing without time. Time took the place of hunger, of the need for food, of all the savour in it.

There were clocks on the wall, inconspicuous dials or larger ones, integrated in pictures and summed up in designs. There was a huge circular chronograph on the ceiling; hourglasses and sundials were contrived in the motif on the floor--and they all seemed actually to function. And when she slept or whether she didn't, there were arrangements for that too. The house vibrated, ever so softly, but the attuned senses could hear it, feel it, in sickness and in health.

"Damn," muttered Jeriann as the vibration momentarily grew louder. She tried to say something to Docchi but her thoughts were confused and she couldn't concentrate. "Don't mind me," she said, smiling ruefully. "I was conditioned to this sort of thing. They seem to think I've got to be ready on the dot."

She could see that it wasn't very clear. "There's a clock in my head too. Everybody has one naturally but mine has been trained. Any natural beat will regulate the self alarm, even the pounding of my heart, even if I don't think about it--but the house is more effective. _They_ said I had to have it if I expected to live."

It was obvious who _they_ were, the psychotechnicians who had attended her after her original accident. They were right but Docchi could see that it might become annoying.

The ticking grew in volume and the house shook and though Jeriann tried to ignore it, it would not let her be. "Time," tolled the house, though the word was unspoken, "time time time." To Docchi it was subdued and soft but it had a different effect on Jeriann.

"All right," she shouted to the tormenter, scrambling out of bed. She dashed into the next room, scooping up hurriedly an absorbic capsule that lay unnoticed on a shelf near the door. She was gone for some time, so long that Docchi was beginning to worry before she came out.

In the interim, she had changed into street clothing and the tension that had marked her departure was gone. "I feel better," she said cheerfully. "Breakfast, such as it was, and a shower."

She sat opposite him. "I can see you're trying to figure out how I took a shower when you couldn't hear water running. Special shower. Don't ask about it."

Docchi had no intention, though he was wondering. He had his own gadgets to help him get dressed and no one was curious about them.

"You came here for something," said Jeriann. "Thanks for being polite and talking to the patient but now you can tell me what it is."

He was considering whether he should ask someone else. It was complex, too difficult to explain to Nona. Anti, who would have been best, was confined to the tank. And Jordan wouldn't do at all. That left only Jeriann, who was capable enough, _if_ she was fully recovered. "Do you know Maureen?" he asked.

"I do. Can I guess what she's done now?" said Jeriann dryly.

"Your guess is probably right, except that she hasn't done it yet. I want to make certain she doesn't." He thought over Jeriann's reply. "This isn't the first time this has happened to her?"

"Of course it isn't. She's always looking for excuses. Long ago, before you came, I think, she managed to throw the stuff away and pretend she'd taken it. She concealed what she'd done for three weeks, until the doctor discovered it."

He hadn't heard this, even as a whispered legend. He'd been too busy trying to achieve new status for the accidentals to bother with gossip. He didn't know the people here as well as Jeriann did; he'd have to draw on her for detailed information. "This time it's not an excuse. The deficiency prescription isn't there for her to take."

"Nonsense," said Jeriann sharply. "I remember thinking in that split second in the dispensary: If I were only Maureen now, the worst that could happen to me is that I'd attract attention."

He glanced at her. She hadn't thought that at all, though it was a reflection of another sort of bitterness. The girl didn't know how lucky she was in comparison to others who were seriously handicapped. "Could you go and take a look?" he asked. "Maureen said it isn't there. I understand that they do experiment occasionally. The new consignment might have got shoved aside in the excitement we had a while back--or it might be there under a different formula that Maureen can't identify." If what Jeriann said was correct, Maureen liked the idea of becoming an all female woman. To her it might seem an anodyne, surcease from disappointment and things that hadn't gone right.

"Sure, I'll go," said Jeriann. Her cheerfulness had diminished while he spoke. Until now she hadn't actually realized there was no longer Earth to signal to in event of an emergency. "It's true they experiment. And maybe they _didn't_ send the last shipment during our mixup." She tossed her head, recovering her buoyancy rapidly. "Oh well, I'll go and take a look. I know the hospital pretty well."

"Good." Docchi got up.

"Wait for me," said Jeriann, going to a drawer and taking things out. She slipped a watch on her arm; there was another in the rather wide belt she wore. She selected a series of absorption capsules and dropped them into pouches on the belt that appeared to be merely ornamental until he saw what went into it. "Lunch, a drink, and an extra one for emergency," she explained laconically.

"I should think you'd require more fluid."

She looked at him disturbingly. "I would, if I had normal metabolism. But remember I don't need fluid for the digestive process. And then to further reduce the intake they've included an antiperspirant in what I do get."

He followed her to the door, where she turned around and looked back at the place she lived in. It was a small, curious house, completely arranged for the kind of person she was.

"Are you going to the hospital with me?" she asked.

"No, there's some work I've got to do near here."

"Well, then, thanks for saving my life." She slipped her arms around him and kissed him, quickly but satisfactorily. Her lips were cool and dry. Very smooth but dry; her touch was like silk. That was because of her skin.

She smiled and opened the door. "See you," she said as they parted. She never once looked back though he did. He was glad, because she might have waved and it would have been impossible to return it.

Twice, now, within an hour, he thought as he went along. Maureen of course he could dismiss since she would respond to anything that was remotely male. It was not at all the same reaction from Jeriann, and it pleased him that it wasn't.

Their environment had changed. Life on the asteroid had undergone a not so subtle transformation now that there were no longer any normals around to be compared with, to make the disastrous self-comparison to. They could begin to behave healthily and sensibly. It was nice that Jeriann had kissed him and liked it. It was the first installment of freedom.

The second installment was going to be harder--to keep that freedom at a level that meant something. He frowned heavily as he thought of what had to be done.

He was late. Except for Anti, who was absent and always would be, everyone he knew was there. In addition there were many others who hardly ever attended. It was a good sign that they were coming out and mingling; before they had seldom left their houses. Docchi spotted Jeriann but there wasn't a vacant seat near her. He sat down toward the rear.

Jordan rapped for silence. "Are there any questions?"

At the front a man stood up. Docchi remembered him from months ago, a Jack or Jed Webber. Jed it was, a quiet fellow with pale blue eyes and almost colorless blond hair. Docchi had never heard him say anything but he was speaking now, emerging from his self-imposed shell. "Yes," said Webber. "I want to know where we're going."

Jordan rapped again. "Out of order. Not on the subject. Anyway the question's not important."