He was in a bed. He grunted as he sat up. Ilse fought him, tried to force him down, saying, "The doctor said you had the constitution of a desert boar. What you went through would have killed ten ordinary men. But lie still, lie still. The wards are filled with the men you've wrecked--" She laughed and sobbed, fighting him. But Kortha put her aside easily, asking, "Where is he? Where is the smell?" "I am here, Kortha," said Guantra from the doorway where he stood, a gun steady in his hand. The gun was aimed at Ilse. Kortha was a little too far away to jump, but the muscles on his legs and arms writhed like snakes with the fury that pounded in his blood. Guantra was saying, "Stand away from him, Ilse. A bullet won't stop Kortha, but he won't risk your chances with hot lead." "What do you want of me?" snarled the giant, mastering his red rage, fingers opening and closing. "You will be my friend, Kortha. That is all I seek of you. Just your friendship." Ilse gasped in her throat and whirled around, blue eyes wide. She stood rigid, bent a little forward. She choked, "No, no. Guantra, you wouldn't--not to Kortha. Not that!" "Not what?" rasped Kortha, scowling in puzzlement. "The Blue Grotto! It changes men. It makes them different. They aren't the same after they come out of there." Kortha stared at Ilse, noting the wide ashen eyelashes, the red mouth twisted in pain, the white forehead riven with furrows. Torture! So. It was what he had expected of Guantra: to torture a man until he became a broken thing begging for friendship. Suddenly he looked at Guantra and found the man lost in admiration of Ilse's tanned loveliness. Kortha leaped like an uncoiling spring. He caught Guantra about the waist and flipped him across a thigh, sending him into a wall. The Premier thudded into the oak and steel, hitting hard. He crouched for long moments on hands and knees, shaking his head. Then he crawled to his feet and looked into his own gun held in Kortha's hand. "You'll let Ilse and Xax go, Guantra. I remain." Guantra rubbed his hip, smiling grimly. He nodded. "Gladly, Kortha. It will be guarantee of our future friendship." "No," sobbed Ilse, long fingernails biting into Kortha's hairy forearm. "He'll change you. He'll do to you what he did to those--others." Kortha shook her off. Torture he hated, but he could stand up to it. But if they did anything to Ilse--he wasn't that sure of himself. He had to get rid of her, send her away to Hurlgut. Maybe they could somehow contact Earth or Venus; get help. Ilse hit his furred chest with tiny fists, whimpering. "Idiot! Can't you see? Guantra will make you his friend. You'll do what he says. You'll be a figurehead. All the Confederacy will hail the union of Guantra and Kortha. It won't know that only Guantra gives the orders, that you're just a puppet." Kortha shoved her away. "Get moving," he snapped. "I'll hold off Guantra until you're safely gone."