"Mad, all mad," Hicks said. "I'd like a hotel room for* the night, as well. Quiet. No gambling." It would be late afternoon by the time he arrived in Las Vegas, and he would not be able to make it to Death Valley before dark. Best to get a good night's sleep, he thought, and start out in the morning.

"Let me confirm your reservations, sir. I'll need your credit card number. You're a guest at the Inter-Continental?"

"I am. Trevor Hicks." He spelled the name and gave his American Express number.

"Mr. Trevor Hicks. The writer?" the agent asked.

"Yes, indeed, bless you," he said.

"I heard you on the radio yesterday."

He pictured the travel agent as a well-tanned blond beach bunny. Perhaps he had been unfair to KGB-FM. "Oh, indeed?"

"Yes. Very interesting. You said you'd take an alien home to meet your mum. Your mother. Even now?"

"Yes, even now," he said. "Feeling very friendly toward extraterrestrials, aren't we all?"

The agent laughed nervously. "Actually, it frightens me.

"Me, too, dear," Hicks said. Delicious, lovely fright.

Chapter 8

8

Harry stood before the glass, hands in his pockets, staring at the Guest. Arthur conferred with two officers at the rear of the room, discussing how the first physical examination was going to be conducted. "We won't be entering the room this time," he said. "We have your photographs and . . . tissue samples from the first day. They'll keep us busy."

Harry felt a small flush of anger. "Idiots," he said under his breath. The Guest, as usual, was curled beneath the blankets on the low platform, only a "foot" and "hand" sticking out from the covers.

"Beg pardon, sir?" asked the current duty officer, a tall, muscular Nordic-looking fellow of about thirty.

"I said 'idiots,' " Harry repeated. "Tissue samples."

"I wasn't there, sir, but we didn't know whether the Guest was alive or dead," the Nordic man said.

"Whatever," Arthur broke in, waving his hand at Harry: slack off. "They're useful, however they were taken. Today, I'm going to ask the Guest to stand up, allow us to photograph it . . . him—"

"It," Harry said. "Don't coddle our prejudices."

"It, then, from all sides, in all postures, while active. I'll also ask if it will submit to further examinations later—"

"Sir," the Nordic man said, "we've discussed this, and considering the warning the Guest has delivered, we believe absolute caution is called for."

"Yes?"

"We're revealing a great many things about ourselves. It could be an information conduit to the object in Death Valley, and how we carry out our examinations, X rays, whatever, could tell them a lot about how advanced we are and what our capabilities are."

"For God's sake," Harry said. He ignored Arthur's sharp glance. "They've been listening to our broadcasts for who knows how many decades. They know everything there is to know about us by now."