The wrecked scout ship could be covered up, but the loss of Detective Lieutenant Brice and Nicholas Danson would not go unnoticed, especially when Beth Danson spilled her story about the strange events that had gone on at the cabin. Of course, Terra would never be able to corroborate what she had experienced - yet they were on the verge of space travel, and they were a war-like race. They could cause all sorts of unnecessary trouble in space. It had to work. He had to get both of them back to the planet, even if it meant stopping a slug from an auto-rifle to do it. He reached the door to the fourth ward and went in to look for Doctor Zuloe. The man wasn't hard to find; he was the only person in the small anteroom. "What can I do for you, Firstspacer?" He asked. "I'm Doctor Zuloe." "I'm Lors." For a moment, they stared at each other. The doctor was a middle-aged man with a weathered skin stretched over a rather aquiline set of features. His small, bird-like eyes were piercing in their study of Lors' face. He smiled thinly and ran a hand through greying hair. "Lors, huh? You the one who went down there?" "I was in the accident. In a sense, I suppose I'm to blame for having brought Brice up here." "You know him?" Doctor Zuloe's eyes narrowed visibly. "Yes. At least, I think I know him better than you people do." "Then perhaps you can help us with him. When he arrived here, he was in a state of acute shock in which he was almost violent. He kept screaming about witchcraft and all sorts of Terran nonsense. We gave him as much treatment as we could, under the circumstances, and he stopped acting like a wildman." "How is he now?" "Numb. He's sitting on his bed, in a special room, and staring at the wall." "He isn't out of his mind, is he?" "I don't think so, but he has had a tremendous strain and shock. It'll take awhile. He isn't of the same structure as the other one." Lors sighed wearily. "I'll see what I can do with him. Commander Zark has plans for him." "Another switch?" The doctor made no attempt to cover his disgust over the idea. "An accident, I believe." "From bad to worse, huh?" Lors didn't answer him. He merely made a motion with his hand for the doctor to show him where the Terran was being kept. Doctor Zuloe nodded and pointed toward a door at the far end of the ward. A blue uniformed spacer stood guard before the door. He clicked his heels as Lors approached. "I want to see the Terran, spacer," Lors said briskly. The spacer nodded and opened the door. Lors stepped inside and listened to the lock click into place behind him. Nolan Brice was seated on the edge of the bed staring at the wall, but Lors did not believe that he was in a state of shock. He had the knotted jaws of a man who is firmly determined to betray nothing to his captors. He sat there with his fingers laced together, hanging between his knees, his clothing rumpled and hanging loose from his broad frame. "Nolan?"