[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, May 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Sandra Drake sat in her perfect apartment on Telfu, and cursed in an
unladylike manner. She was plying a needle with some difficulty, and
the results of her work were decidedly amateurish. But her clothing
was slowly going to pieces, and there was not a good tailor in nine
light-years of Sandra Drake.
The Telfan tailors didn't understand Solarian tailoring; Sandra was
forced to admit that they were good--for Telfans. But for Solarians,
they didn't come up to the accepted standards.
They had tried, she gave them credit for that. But the Telfan figure
did not match the Solarian, especially the four-breasted female Telfan
woman did not match Sandra's thin-waisted, high breasted figure. Her
total lack of the Telfan skin; part feathers, part hair, but actually
classifiable as neither, caused a different "hang" to the clothing.
Telfans wore practically nothing because of the pelt and though
Sandra's figure was one of those that should have been adorned in
practically nothing, Telfu was not sufficiently warm to go running
around in a sunsuit.
And making over Telfan clothing to fit her was out of the question. She
stood half a head above their tallest women, and the only clothing that
would have fit was clothing made in outsizes for extremely huge Telfan
women. Needless to say this size of garment was shapeless.
Sandra finished her mending, tried on the garment and made a wry face.
"I used to curse the lack of humans here," she told her image in the
mirror, "but now I'm glad I'm the only one. I'd sure hate to have any
of my old friends see me looking like this."
The image that repeated silently was not too far a cry from the Sandra
Drake that had called the _Haywire Queen_ in for a landing on Telfu
some months ago. But they hadn't waited, and she now knew why. Well,
she was forced to admit that her try at either trapping them here or
getting off with them had failed, and therefore she had been outguessed.
That made her burn. Being outguessed by a man was something that Sandra
didn't care to have happen. She could live through it; but it was the
aftermath that really hurt. The Telfans came to understand her too well
after that incident. They no longer looked upon her as a leading figure
in her system. They knew that her knowledge of Solarian science was
sketchy and incomplete. Therefore she had lost her hold upon Telfu,
and was now forced to do her own mending.
On the other hand, Sandra Drake was an intelligent woman. Her contempt
for the Telfan language was gone. It went on that memorable day when
she discovered that everyone who understood any Terran had gone to
greet the landing _Haywire Queen_ and had left her unable to convey her
desires. From that time on, Sandra plied herself and was quite capable
of conversing in Telfan, and fluently.
So Sandra Drake had been living with the Telfans for several months.
She had been forced to live with her wits and her mind and she found
it interesting. Telfans were quite cold to her charms, which made her
angry at times; on Terra she was used to admiration from anything
masculine from fourteen to ninety-eight. Below fourteen they didn't
know any better and over ninety-eight they didn't care, but the years
between were aware of Sandra Drake. On Telfu, posturing, posing, and
offering had no effect. They looked upon her as an encyclopedia; an
animate phonograph, which, upon proper stimulation, could be made to
sound interesting.
They had their machinery of action, too. Either Sandra assisted
them--or she did not find things easy. It was adjustable, too, and the
better assistance she gave, the better she found things.