e woke, acceleration had its crushing hand on his chest. He tried
to move, discovered that he was strapped hard into a bunk, and fainted
again.

Suddenly the pressure was gone and he was lying at ease on the smooth
sheets of a hospital bunk. His eyes were covered with a light bandage,
and there was a sharp pain in his left arm. He tried to move it and
found it was tied down.

"I think he's coming round," said Vorongil's voice.

"Yes, and a lot too soon for me," said a bitter voice which Bart
recognized as that of the ship's medic. "Freak!"

"Listen, Baldy," said Vorongil, "whoever he is, he could have been
blinded or killed. You wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for that
_freak_, as you call him. Bartol, can you hear me? How much light can
your eyes stand?"

"As much as any Mentorian." Bart found he could move his right arm, and
twitched the bandage away. Vorongil and the medic stood over him; in the
other infirmary bunk a form was lying, covered with a white sheet.
Sickly, Bart wondered if they had found Montano. Vorongil followed the
direction of his eyes.

"Yes," he said, and his voice held deep bitterness, "poor old Rugel is
dead. He didn't get much of the radiation, but his heart wouldn't stand
it, and gave out." He bowed his head. "He was bald in the service of the
ships when my crest was new-sprouted," he said in deep grief.

Bart felt the shock of that, even through his own fear. He looked down
at his left arm. It was strapped to a splint, and fluid was dripping
slowly into the vein there.

Vorongil nodded. "I expect you feel pretty sick. You got a good dose of
radiation yourself, but we've given you a couple of transfusions--one of
the Mentorians matched your blood type, fortunately. It was a close
call."

The medic was looking down in ill-disguised curiosity. "Fantastic," he
said. "I don't suppose you'd tell me who changed your looks. I admit I
wouldn't believe it until I had a look at your foot bones under the
fluoroscope."

Vorongil said quietly, "Bartol--I don't suppose that's your real
name--why did you do it?"

"I couldn't see you all die, sir," Bart said, not expecting them to
believe him. "No more than that."

The medic said roughly in Lhari, "It's a trick, sir, no more. A trick to
make us trust him!"

"Why would he risk his own life then?" Vorongil asked. "No, it's more
than that." He hesitated. "We checked the bunkers--in radiation
suits--before we took off. We found a man in one of