‘I’m not here because I think this is reasoningly or legally the right thing to do,” the young human said, “but morally I don’t see how I can do anything else. I believe that you are one of God’s creatures, that you have a soul, and that what they intend doing to you is wrong both in the eyes of man and of God. I don’t know if the term is one you’ve learned, but prior to my matriculation as a xenologist I was a theology student. I draw support for these actions tonight from the Bible, the Rig-Veda, and the teachings of Buddha. What I do here now is part of my journey down the noble Eightfold Path.”

“I do not understand all of what you say,” Ryo replied, “but I welcome the result of your reasoning. I believe you would consider me a Theravadist.”

“That is impossible to reconcile with belief in—”

Sanchez stepped between them, spoke to Bhadravati. “You can try converting him later. Our searches turned up no monitors, but sooner or later someone’s going to make a personal check of our guest’s condition.”

They hurried down the corridor. The station was big and the Seeker was docked a considerable distance away. It was general sleeptime for the humans.

I have done this before, on a more familiar world, Ryo mused suddenly. It seems I am destined forever to be escaping to someplace or from somewhere.

They were running down a narrow serviceway where the light was subdued and Ryo was grateful for the respite from the usual glare.

“That’s far enough!”

The humans running ahead of Ryo came to a halt. He peered around Sanchez. Blocking the corridor was a single human male. Ryo recognized the object he was holding as a weapon. After a moment Ryo recognized the figure. It was one of the Seeker’s crew. One of the two who’d sneaked hostile glances in Ryo’s direction when he thought no one else was looking.

“Hello, Weldon,” Sanchez said easily. “I had a hunch you might have suspected. You always were a sharp one.”

“Shove it, Captain.” Sweat was pouring down his cheeks and his thinning hair was in disarray. “It wasn’t hard to figure that you were planning something. So I listened.” He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I listen well.”

“Okay, so you listen well. What are you going to do, turn us in?”

“I don’t care what you do. I don’t have anything against you, Captain. Against any of you. You’ve been under a strain. We all have. It’s clouded your vision, but not mine. Not Renstaad’s, either, but she isn’t up to this. Someone’s got to do it”

“Do what?” Sanchez.