t into it?"

"It wasn't hailing when we left," Bart said wearily. "The sun was as
nice and green as it could be." He bit the words off, realizing he had
made a slip, but the girl seemed not to hear, fastening a strip of
plastic over a cut. She picked up his wrist. Bart flinched in spite of
himself, and Meta nodded. "I was afraid of that; it may be broken.
Better let me X-ray it."

"No!" Bart said harshly. "It's all right, I just twisted it. Nothing's
broken. Just strap it up."

"It's pretty badly swollen," the girl said, moving it gently. "Does that
hurt? I thought so."

Bart set his teeth against a cry. "It's all right, I tell you. Just
because it's black and blue--"

He heard her breath jolt out, her fingers clenched painfully on his
wounded wrist. She did not hear his cry this time. "And the sun was nice
and _green_," she whispered. _"What are you?"_

Bart felt himself slip sidewise; he thought for a moment that he would
faint where he sat. Terrified, he looked up at Meta. Their eyes met, and
she said, hardly moving her pale lips, "Your eyes--they're like mine.
Your eyelashes--dark, not white. _You're not a Lhari!_"

The pain in his wrist suddenly blurred everything else, but Meta
suddenly realized she was gripping it; she gave a little, gentle cry,
and cradled the abused wrist in her palm.

"No wonder you didn't want it X-rayed," she whispered. Biting her lip,
she glanced, terrified, at Karol, unconscious in the bunk. "No, he can't
hear us; I gave him a heavy shot of hypnin, poor fellow."

"Go ahead," Bart said bitterly, "yell for your keepers."

Her gray eyes blazed at him for a moment; then, gently, she laid his
wrist on the table, went to the infirmary door and locked it on the
inside. She turned around, her face white; even her lips had lost their
color. "Who are you?" she whispered.

"Does it matter now?"

Shocked comprehension swept over her face. "You don't think I'd _tell_
them," she whispered. "I heard talk, in the Procyon port, of a spy that
had managed to get through on a Lhari ship." Her face twisted. "You--you
must know about the man on the _Multiphase_, you know they'll--make sure
I can't--hide anything dangerous to the Lhari at the end of the voyage."

"Meta--" concern for her swept over him--"what will they do to you when
they find out that you know and--didn't tell?"

Her gray eyes were wide as a kitten's. "Why, nothing. The Lhari would
never _hurt_ anyone, would they?"

Brainwash