Harry glanced at Arthur. "All right," Harry said, putting down his notes. "What is your interior state?"

"Disorganized."

"You're confused?" Harry asked.

"Not at ease. Mission is completed. We will not survive this incident."

"You won't ..." Arthur searched for clear words. "When the ship leaves, you won't be aboard?"

"You are not asking proper questions."

"What questions should we ask?" Harry tapped his pencil on a chair arm. The Guest appeared to focus its three sherry-colored eyes on this gesture. "What questions should we ask?" he repeated.

"Process of destruction. Past deaths of worlds. How you fit into the scheme."

"Yes, you're right," Arthur said quickly. "We haven't been asking those questions. We experience fear, a negative emotional state, and we do not really want to know. This may be irrational—"

The Guest lifted its "chin" high, revealing the two slits and a shadowed, two-inch-wide depression on the underside of the miter. "Negative emotions," it repeated. "When will you ask these questions?"

"Some of our leaders, including our President, will be joining us tomorrow. That might be a good time," Harry said.

"I think we'd better hear it now, first." Arthur was uneasy at the thought of blindly springing information on Crockerman. He had no idea how the man would react.

"Yes," the Guest said.

"First question, then," Arthur began. "What happened to your world?" The Guest began its story.

OFFERTORIUM

OFFERTORIUM

9

"You're privileged, folks," the new duty officer, a young, slender black woman in gray blouse and slacks, told her four isolated charges.

Ed Shaw sat up on his bunk and blinked.

"The President's coming here this evening. He wants to talk with you and commend you all."

"How long until we get out of here?" Stella Morgan asked, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and repeated her question.

"I have no idea, Miss Morgan. We have a message from your mother. It's in your food drawer. We can relay any message from you to her that does not carry information as to your whereabouts or why you are here."

"She's putting on the pressure, isn't she?" Minelli said. They had been discussing Stella's mother, Bernice Morgan, a few hours earlier. By now, Stella was convinced, Mrs. Morgan would have marshaled half the lawyers in the state.

"She is indeed," the duty officer said. "You've got quite a mother, Miss Morgan. We hope to get this all straightened out quickly. Labs are running tests around the clock. So far, we haven't found any foreign biologicals on you or the Guest."

Edward lay back on his bunk. "What's the President going to do here?" he asked.

"He wants to talk to the four of you. That's ail we've been told."

"And see the alien," Minelli said. "Right?"

The duty officer smiled.

"When are you going to tell the press?" Reslaw asked.