It was the right answer, Rather thought, except for two things. The tree was in the wrong place; and if the Navy did find it, the citizens would have to hide the CARM every time the Navy came visiting.

So Rather only said, "That's good. I'd hate to be cut off from my family." (Booce had said, "They want your loyalty. They won't like it if you're loyal to your family, your tribe, me-")

"How often do you get these allergy attacks?" "Usually just when the air's too thin. I had them while we were moving the log; we were too far in. It's like knives in my eyes. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately. It happens then too."

"Would you describe yourself as sickly?" Rather told himself that nobody would come to a recruitment office if he considered himself sickly, and said, "No. It's just something that happens. A day later I'm fine. It's almost over now."

"I see. All right, Rather. Go ask Able Jacks to put you on the centrifuge. We'll get in touch with you through Booce Serjent."

Debby and the desk man were ignoring each other. Debby seemed nervous.

"Rather! How'd it go?"

"Fine. Are you Able Jacks?"

"That's right."

"You're to take me to the centrifuge. What's a centrifuge?"

"I'll show you."

The wicker structure resembled the treadmill that ran the elevator in Citizens Tree. It was wider: twenty meters across. Rather was instructed to cling to the rim and wait. Two ratings spun it up, timing it with a hand-held device. The wheel rolled eccentrically with his mass to throw it off. A rating measured the divergence of the hub. “Your mass is eighty-one kilgrams," he said.

They locked the centrifuge in place and made him run.

Pushing himself round the rim gave him the sensation of tide. They had him run as fast as he could. It made him dizzy; the tide became fiercely strong. Then they made him slow down and run at a measured rate, until his legs burned and his eyes blurred. He would have stopped then if he had not noticed Bosun Murphy watching him.

He waved. The motion almost sent him tumbling. She didn't respond. But she watched, and he ran.

... It came to him that he was rolling around the centrifuge. He'd blacked out.

A rating snatched at his ankle and pulled him out. "Take a rest. Here." He handed Rather a towel, and Rather, gasping for air, mopped a sheath of water from his body.

Murphy said, "That was quite a performance. I could win bets on you."

"I grew up in a tree."

"I know."

There was no animation in her voice, her face, her body language. Navy thinks they're superior, Carlot had said;

but that wasn't it. "Bosun, are you all right?"

"I'm a little down," she said. "Call me Sectry, Rather. I'm not on duty."