I have to check my old tapes to
make sure. But it's gonna be worth a raid, I can feel that in my
bones. Let's unload your corpse." He helped Brion with the clumsy,
wrapped bundle, then slipped into the driver's seat.

"Hold it," Brion said. "Do you have anything in the med box I can
use for Lea? She seems to have cracked. Not hysterical, but
withdrawn. Won't listen to reason, won't do anything but lie there
and ask to go home."

"Got the potion here," Telt said, cracking the med box.
"Slaughter-syndrome is what our medic calls it. Hit a lot of our
boys. Grow up all your life hating the idea of violence, and it goes
rough when you have to start killing people. Guys break up, break
down, go to pieces lots of different ways. The medic mixed up this
stuff. Don't know how it works, probably tranquilizers and some of
the cortex drugs. But it peels off recent memories. Maybe for the
last ten, twelve hours. You can't get upset about what you don't
remember." He pulled out a sealed package. "Directions on the box.
Good luck."

"Luck," Brion said, and shook the technician's calloused hand.
"Let me know if the traces are strong enough to be bombs." He checked
the street to make sure it was clear, then pressed the door button.
The sand car churned out into the brilliant sunshine and was gone,
the throb of its motor dying in the distance. Brion closed the door
and went back to Lea. Ulv was still crouched against the wall.

There was a one-shot disposable hypodermic in the box. Lea made
no protest when he broke the seal and pressed the needle against
her arm. She sighed and her eyes closed again.

When he saw she was resting easily, he dragged in the
tarpaulin-wrapped body of the magter. A work-bench ran along one
wall and he struggled the corpse up onto it. He unwrapped the
tarpaulin and the sightless eyes stared accusingly up into his.

Using his knife, Brion cut away the loose, blood-soaked clothing.
Strapped under the clothes, around the man's waist, was the familiar
collection of Disan artifacts. This could have significance either
way. Human or humanoid, the creature would still have to live on
Dis. Brion threw it aside, along with the clothing. Nude, pierced,
bloody, the corpse lay before him.

In every external physical detail the man was human.

Brion's theory was becoming more preposterous with each discovery.
If the magter weren't alien, how could he explain their complete lack
of emotions? A mutation of some k