But for all his relief and desire to yield, Kalus found it hard to let another man touch her, even in this simple way. Again the young woman interceded. She laid a soft and delicate hand on his, and looked him full in the face with brilliant, almond eyes, drawn to a gentle point at each corner. 'It's all right,' she said. 'You're among friends. Won't you let us help you?' Her voice and manner were so alluring that for a moment he forgot all else. He looked down at Sylviana, half ashamed of what the Oriental had aroused in him, and said quietly. 'So long as you are gentle. I think she just needs rest.' The doctor was already at work, lifting her off the hard roots to lean back against his thighs. Then reaching inside a black bag that he had brought, he broke open a pouch of smelling salts and moved it back and forth under her nose. Her head stirred, then turned away in distaste. She regained full consciousness to find herself lying, literally, in the strange older man's lap. Forgetting that this was what her mind had sought, she cried out instinctively. 'Kalus!' And in a moment he was beside her. 'Kalus,' she pleaded. 'Is it all right? Are we safe here?' He looked hard at the doctor. 'Yes, my Sylviana. I think that we are.' She studied the man once more. 'Is it true? Are you really with NASA? This isn't a dream?' 'Yes, I'm with NASA. Second manned expedition to Mars---we never made it. But there's time for all that later. Right now we're going to get some fluids into you, and give you something for the fever. Then I'd prescribe bed rest, and a further examination. Young man, will you help me---' But before he could finish the girl had turned her face into his stomach, and was crying like a child. He stroked her hair easily and naturally, speaking words of comfort and assurance. As the man-child looked on and felt lost. At length she grew quieter. Kalus lifted her in his willing arms, and despite all objections, carried her himself to a bed in the cool darkness of one of the huts. Chapter 39 All that afternoon Sylviana remained in the hut, sleeping, drinking fruit juice, and luxuriating in the incredible comfort of a real bed. Twice the doctor came in to check on her, and each time she made him sit down on the edge of the bed and talk to her, about what it didn't matter, just to hear his soothing voice that spoke of a world she knew and trusted, and to feel she was no longer alone: that it was all right to be a needing child. And after a time his words became like music, a lullaby, and she would slip back into untroubled sleep, her hand unconsciously resting on his. Then he would gently lift it and set it beside her, and smiling, rise to tell the others that she would be fine. *