"Now you've done it," said Dimanche. "She's out cold." There was no reason for remorse; it was strange that he felt it. His throat was dry. "So you, too, can communicate with me. Through Manche, of course. I built a wonderful instrument, didn't I?" "A fearful one," said Dimanche sternly. "She's unconscious." "I heard you the first time." Cassal hesitated. "Is she dead?" Dimanche investigated. "Of course not. A little thing like that wouldn't hurt her. Her nerve system is marvelous. I think it could carry current for a city. Beautiful!" "I'm aware of the beauty," said Cassal. * * * * * An awkward silence followed. Dimanche broke it. "Now that I know the facts, I'm proud to be her chosen instrument. Her need was greater than yours." Cassal growled, "As first counselor, she had access to every--" "Don't interrupt with your half truths," said Dimanche. "Huntners _are_ special; their brain structure, too. Not necessarily better, just different. Only the auditory and visual centers of their brains resemble that of man. You can guess the results of even superficial tampering with those parts of her mind. And stolen identification would involve lobotomy." He could imagine? Cassal shook his head. No, he couldn't. A blinded and deaf Murra Foray would not go back to the home of the Huntners. According to her racial conditioning, a sightless young tiger should creep away and die. Again there was silence. "No, she's not pretending unconsciousness," announced Dimanche. "For a moment I thought--but never mind." The conversation was lasting longer than he expected. The ship must be obsolete and slow. There were still a few things he wanted to find out, if there was time. "When are you going on Drive?" he asked. "We've been on it for some time," answered Dimanche. "Repeat that!" said Cassal, stunned. "I said that we've been on faster-than-light drive for some time. Is there anything wrong with that?" Nothing wrong with that at all. Theoretically, there was only one means of communicating with a ship hurtling along faster than light, and that way hadn't been invented. _Hadn't been until he had put together the instrument he called Manche._ Unwittingly, he had created far more than he intended. He ought to have felt elated. Dimanche interrupted his thoughts. "I suppose you know what she thinks of you." "She made it plain enough," said Cassal wearily. "A teddy bear. A brainless, childish toy." "Among the Huntners, women are vigorous and aggressive," said Dimanche. The voice grew weaker as the ship, already light-years away, slid into unfathomable distances. "Where words are concerned, morals are very strict. For instance, 'dear' is never used unless the person means it. Huntner men are weak and not over-burdened with intelligence." The voice was barely audible, but it continued: "The principal romantic figure in the dreams of women...." Dimanche failed altogether. "Manche!" cried Cassal.