Alsint's tongue was fuzzy. "Outside the window behind you is a little
red bird," he said, speaking distinctly to overcome the side-effects of
the anesthesia.
Franklan went on swabbing, not bothering to glance behind him. "You're
tired," he said. "And look again at that bird outside the window. For
my sake, tell it to put on a spacesuit. If it doesn't, it will die in a
matter of seconds."
Startled, Alsint looked around. He was mixed up in his directions. He
was facing the visionport, plain empty space, not the corridor.
He blinked his eyes frantically, but the bird wouldn't go away and it
didn't die. There was no air out there, millions of miles from the
nearest planet. The bird flapped its wings in the airless space and
went through the motions of singing.
* * * * *
It was ridiculous. There was nothing to carry the sound. But he
could imagine hearing it anyway, through the thick armorglass of the
visionport--a bird singing in space.
Resolutely he closed his eyes and kept them closed. He had enough
trouble without taking on hallucinations.
Franklan finished the new bandage and tapped his shoulder. "You can
come out of it now."
Alsint tried not to, but he couldn't resist. He stared past Franklan
toward the visionport.
"Is it gone?" asked Franklan. His voice was quiet.
"It's gone," Alsint said in relief.
"Good. These things happen occasionally. As long as you can adjust back
to reality, you have nothing to worry about." Franklan rummaged through
the medical supplies. "Take these. They may help you."
Wordlessly, Alsint took the packet and went back to his room. He was
sweating and shaken.
Franklan hadn't seen it because he hadn't looked, but there had been a
bird out there, or there hadn't. If not, Alsint's contact with reality
was precarious and he'd have to watch himself. Franklan had hinted at
that. Maybe he wanted Alsint to believe it.
But it didn't mean there hadn't been an actual bird. It could be put
there in a plastic bubble that wasn't visible against the blackness of
space. If so, it was an ingenious way of harassing him.
He relaxed at that formulation. It hadn't been worth the effort,
but it did prove one thing--his unknown antagonist had an excellent
imagination.
* * * * *
Time passed--days, perhaps, though that unit had little meaning on the
ship. It was the work period which counted and nobody had bothered to
tell him how long that was. The last planet of the system was analyzed
and the permanent markers sent down. The star was tagged and the ship
proceeded on its way.
What the destination was, Alsint didn't know and didn't inquire. They
were going somewhere, to uncatalogued stars, and that was enough to
know.
His hands healed and the bandages were removed. Larienne was reassigned
to help him. The rest of the crew, whatever they guessed, or sensed,
said nothing and the normal pattern of life on the tag ship seemed
re-established.
His anxiety faded. It was not, he was sure, the end of the attempts to
remove him, but he had time to think, to plan countermeasures.
He was not wholly prepared. He and Larienne were approaching the plant.
The door was open and he could see inside. He glanced casually at the
row on row of mechanism, and stopped.
"What's the matter?" asked Larienne.
He moistened his lips. "Go around to the other side and close the door.
Be quiet about it, but close the door quickly."
She stared at him curiously and started to go inside.