'Oh, Hal, Hal! What have you done?'
Her pitiful face tore at him. Tears were falling; if ever a stone could weep, it was weeping now.
He turned and ran into the kitchen where he took out the sheath, removed the contents, and inserted the needle in the tube. He went back into the bedroom. She said nothing as he thrust the point into her vein. For a moment, he was afraid the needle would break. The skin was almost brittle.
'This stuff cures Earthpeople in a jiffy,' he said, with what he hoped was a cheery beside manner.
'Oh, Hal, come here. It's – it's too late now.'
He withdrew the needle, rubbed alcohol on the break, and put a pad on it. Then he dropped to his knees by the bed and kissed her. Her lips were leathery.
'Hal, do you love me?'
'Won't you ever believe me? How many times must I tell you?'
'No matter what you'll find out about me?' 'I know all about you.'
'No, you don't. You can't. Oh, Great Mother, if only I'd told you! Maybe you'd have loved me just as much, anyway. Maybe–'
'Jeannette! What's the matter?'
Her lids had closed. Her body shook in a spasm. When the violent trembling passed, she whispered with stiff lips. He bent his head to hear her.
'What did you say? Jeannette! Speak!'
He shook her. The fever must have died, for her shoulder was cold. And hard.
The words came low and slurring.
'Take me to my aunts and sisters. They'll know what to do. Not for me . . . but for the–'
'What do you mean?'
'Hal, will you always love–'
'Yes, yes. You know that! We've got more important things to do than talk about that.'
If she heard him, she gave no sign. Her head was tilted far back with her exquisite nose pointed at the ceiling. Her lids and mouth were closed, and her hands were her side, palms up. The breasts were motionless. Whatever breath she might have was too feeble to stir them.
Hal pounded on Fobo's door until it opened.
The empathist's wife said, 'Hal, you startled me!'
'Where's Fobo?'
'He's at a college board meeting.' 'I've got to see him at once.'
Abasa yelled after him, 'If it's important, go ahead! Those meetings bore him, anyway!'
By the time Yarrow had taken the steps three at a time and beelined across the nearby campus, his lungs were on fire. He didn't slacken his pace; he hurtled up the steps of the administration building and burst into the board room.
When he tried to speak, he had to stop and suck in deep breaths.
Fobo jumped out of his chair. 'What's up?'
'You – you've – got to come. Matter – life – death!'
'Excuse me, gentlemen,' Fobo said.
The ten wogs nodded their heads and resumed the conference. The empathist put on his cloak and skull-cap with its artificial antennae and led Hal out.
'Now, what is it?'
'Listen, I've got to trust you. I know you can't promise me anything. But I think you won't turn me in to my people. You're a real person, Fobo.'
'Get to the point, my friend.'
'Listen. You wogs are as advanced as we in endocrinology, even, if you lag way behind in other sciences. And you've got an advantage. You have made some medical examinations and tests on her. You should know something about her anatomy and physiology and metabolism. You–'
'Jeannette? Oh, Jeannette Rastignac! The lalitha!'
'Yes. I've been hiding her in my apartment.'
'I know.'
'You know? But how? I mean–'
The wog put his hand on Hal's shoulder.
'There's something you should know. I meant to tell you tonight after I got home. This morning a man named Art Hunah Pukui rented an apartment in a building across the street. He claimed he wanted to live among us so he could learn our language and our mores more swiftly.
'But he's spent most of his time in this building carrying around a case which I imagine contains various devices to enable him to hear from a distance the sounds in your apartment. However, the landlord kept an eye on him, so he wasn't able to plant any of his devices.'
'Pukui is an Uzzite.'
'If you say so. Bight now he's in his apartment watching this building through a powerful telescope.'
'And he could be listening to us right now, too,' Hal said. 'His instruments are extremely sensitive. Still, the walls are heavily soundproofed. Anyway, forget about him!'
Fobo followed him into his rooms. The wog felt Jeannette's forehead and tried to lift her lid to look at her eye. It would not bend.
'Hmm! Calcification of the outer skin layer is far advanced.'
With one hand he threw the sheet from her figure and with the other he grabbed her gown by the neckline and ripped the thin cloth down the middle. The two parts fell to either side. She lay nude, as silent and pale and beautiful as a sculptor's masterpiece.