But Pola whispered in horror, "You'll take him to the Ancients."
"What for? He's no good to them, and he's worth a hundred credits to me. If you wait for the Outsiders, they're liable to kill the fella before they find out he's fever-free. You know Outsiders-they don't care if they kill an Earthman or not. They'd rather, in fact."
Arvardan said, "Take the young lady with you."
But Natter's little eyes were very sharp and very sly. "Oh no. Not that guv'ner. I take what you call calculated risks. I can get by with one, maybe not with two. And if I only take one, I take the one what's worth more. Ain't that reasonable to you?"
"What," said Arvardan, "if I pick you up and pull your legs off? What'll happen then?"
Natter flinched, but found his voice, nevertheless, and managed a laugh. "Why, then, you're a dope. They'll get you anyway, and there'll be murder, too, on the list...All right, guv'ner. Keep your hands off."
"Please"-Pola was dragging at Arvardan's arm-"we must take a chance. Let him do as he says...You'll be honest with us, w-won't you, Mr. Natter?"
Natter's lips were curling. "Your big friend wrenched my arm. He had no call to do that, and I don't like nobody to push me around. I'll just take an extra hundred credits for that. Two hundred in all."
"My father'll pay you-"
"One hundred in advance," he replied obdurately.
"But I don't have a hundred credits," Pola wailed.
"That's all right, miss," said Arvardan stonily. "I can swing it."
He opened his wallet and plucked out several bills. He threw them at Natter. "Get going!"
"Go with him, Schwartz," whispered Pola.
Schwartz did, without comment, without caring. He would have gone to hell at that moment with as little emotion.
And they were alone, staring at each other blankly. It was perhaps the first time that Pola had actually looked at Arvardan, and she was amazed to find him tall and craggily handsome, calm and self -confident. She had accepted him till now as an inchoate, unmotivated helper, but now-She grew suddenly shy, and all the events of the last hour or two were enmeshed and lost in a scurry of heartbeating.
They didn't even know each other's name.
She smiled and said, "I'm Pola Shekt."
Arvardan had not seen her smile before, and found himself interested in the phenomenon. It was a glow that entered her face, a radiance. It made him feel-But he put that thought away roughly. An Earthgirl!
So he said, with perhaps less cordiality than he intended, "My name is Bel Arvardan." He held out a bronzed hand, into which her little one was swallowed up for a moment.
She said, "I must thank you for all your help."
Arvardan shrugged it away. "Shall we leave? I mean, now that your friend is gone; safely, I trust."
"I think we would have heard quite a noise if they had caught him, don't you think so?" Her eyes were pleading for confirmation of her hope, and he refused the temptation toward softness.
"Shall we go?"
She was somehow frozen. "Yes, why not?" sharply.
But there was a whining in the air, a shrill moan on the horizon, and the girl's eyes were wide and her outstretched hand suddenly withdrawn again,
"What's the matter now?" asked Arvardan.
"It's the Imperials."
"And are you frightened of them too?" It was the self-consciously non-Earthman Arvardan who spoke-the Sirian archaeologist. Prejudice or not, however the logic might be chopped and minced, the approach of Imperial soldiers meant a trace of sanity and humanity. There was room for condescension here, and he grew kind.
"Don't worry about the Outsiders," he said, even stooping to use their term for non-Earthmen. "I'll handle them, Miss Shekt."
She was suddenly concerned. "Oh no, don't try anything like that. Just don't talk to them at all. Do as they say, and don't even look at them."
Arvardan's smile broadened.
The guards saw them while they were still a distance from the main entrance and fell back. They emerged into a little space of emptiness and a strange hush. The whine of the army cars was almost upon them.
And then there were armored cars in the square and groups of glass-globe-headed soldiers springing out therefrom. The crowds scattered before them in panic, aided in their scramblings by clipped shouts and thrusts with the butt ends of the neuronic whips.
Lieutenant Claudy, in the lead, approached an Earthman guard at the main entrance. " All right, you, who's got the fever?"
His face was slightly distorted within the enclosing glass, with its content of pure air. His voice was slightly metallic as a result of radio amplification.
The guard bent his head in deep respect. "If it please your honor, we have isolated the patient within the store. The two who were with the patient are now standing in the doorway before you."
"They are, are they? Good! Let them stand there. Now in the first place, I want this mob out of here. Sergeant! Clear the square!"
There was a grim efficiency in the proceedings thereafter. The deepening twilight gloomed over Chica as the crowd melted into the darkening air. The streets were beginning to gleam in soft, artificial lighting.
Lieutenant Claudy tapped his heavy boots with the butt of his neuronic whip. "You're sure the sick Earthie is inside?"
"He has not left, your honor. He must be."
"Well, we'll assume he is and waste no time about it. Sergeant! Decontaminate the building!"
A contingent of soldiers, hermetically sealed away from all contact with Terrestrial environment, charged into the building. A slow quarter hour passed, while Arvardan watched all in absorbed fashion. It was a field experiment in intercultural relationships that he was professionally reluctant to disturb.