CHAPTER XIV

Pink woke from a sweating nightmare. He rolled over and his bandaged
ribs creaked with a twinge. He had slept nearly a round of the clock;
the other ships must be nearing the asteroids. He got up and dressed
quickly, wondering who was watching Circe now, holding the revolver on
her, praying that if she should change form, the old-fashioned gun
would paralyze her as it had the giant.

The giant. He had to check on that devil immediately. He called his
quarters on the intercom, and Lieutenant Daley's image waved at him
reassuringly. The monstrous entity had not moved; its eyes still gleamed
with malevolence.

"Your hours are numbered on one hand," said Pinkham to himself. "How
many fingers on that mitt, I wonder?"

And even yet he did not believe the thing had been bluffing.

He ate a brisk breakfast in the mess hall, then stalked off to his own
room, trying to analyze what he now knew of the giants' nature; but
Circe's face intruded in his mind. He was in love with her. If she were
an alien, then he was in love with the remarkable illusion she had
created, of beauty and something more: of a deep integrity of soul that
shone in her eyes and touched every word she uttered. And if that _were_
an illusion, then he was a cynic and quite likely a positive misanthrope
from this day forward.

"Get a slug of coffee," he told Daley. "Then hare back and we'll have
some brandy. It looks like a busy day." Daley went out, giving him the
Colt as he left.

Sparks reported the _Cottabus_ and _Diogenes_ had joined their routes
and would be alongside within half an hour. Pink sat down and looked at
Circe, asleep on the couch. He switched his gaze after a while to the
enemy, who watched him steadily. It said, "A favor, Captain."

"No," he told it.

"Only a sip, a drop of brandy to wet these cold lips!"

"Cold lips, cold heart: old proverb." For the first time in his life,
Pinkham wanted to torture someone. "You bastard," he said grimly, "you
murdered eleven men, eleven good officers, and spoiled Kinkare's face
for him. And you want a drink of brandy."

"Rubbing alcohol, then. Only a touch on my mouth. Drop it in my eye if
you wish," said the thing pitifully.

"No--hey, wait a second. You told me your breed doesn't eat or drink.
You don't need any outside element. Why the alcohol?"

It heaved what was possibly a sigh. "I can absorb certain portions of
the carbon atoms of _al-kuhl_," it said. "It is the