"Look at it this way," Cameron continued almost desperately. "The Centauri group contains quite a few planets. From what we know of cosmology, intelligent life probably exists there to a greater or lesser extent. You will be our representatives to them. What _they_ look like isn't important; it's their concern. But our ambassadors have to meet certain minimum standards. They at least--damn it, don't you see that they at least have to _look_ like human beings?" "I know you feel that way," said Jordan, rigid with contempt. "I'm not talking for myself," Cameron said. "I'm a doctor. The medicouncilors are doctors. We graft on or regenerate legs and arms and eyes. We work with blood and bones and intestines. We know what a thin borderline separates normal people from--from you. "Don't you understand? They're perfect, perhaps too much so. They can't tolerate even small blemishes. They rush to us with things like hangnails, pimples, simple dandruff. Health--or rather the appearance of it--has become a fetish. They may think they're sympathetic to you, but what they actually feel is something else." "What are you driving at?" whispered Docchi. "Just this: if it were up to the Medicouncil, you would be on your way to the Centauri group. But it isn't. The decision always had to be referred back to the Solar System as a whole. And the Medicouncil can't go counter to the mass of public opinion." Docchi turned away in loathing. "Don't believe me," said Cameron. "You're not too far from Earth. Pick up the reaction to your broadcast." Worriedly, Jordan looked at Docchi. "We may as well find out," said Docchi. "It's settled now, one way or the other." They searched band after band. The reaction was always the same. Obscure private citizen or prominent one, man or woman, they all told how sorry they were for the accidentals, but-- "Turn it off," said Docchi at last. "Now what?" Jordan asked numbly. "You have no choice," said the doctor. "No choice," repeated Docchi dully. "No choice but to give up. We misjudged who our allies were." "We knew you had," said Cameron. "It seemed better to let you go on thinking that way while you were on the asteroid. It gave you something to hope for. It made you feel you weren't alone. The trouble was that you got farther than we thought you would ever be able to." "So we did," Docchi said. His lethargy seemed to lift a little. "And there's no reason to stop now. Jordan, pick up the ships behind us. Tell them we've got Cameron on board. A hostage. Play him up as a hero. Basically, he's not with those who are against us." Anti came into the control compartment. Cheerfulness faded from her face. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Jordan will explain to you. I've got to think." Docchi closed his eyes. The ship lurched slightly, though the vibration from the rockets did not change. There was no reason for alarm; the flight of a ship was never completely steady. Docchi paid no attention.