unconsciousness during which they dream. Or have nightmares.”
“The trouble is,” MacEwan said, “they don’t share our particular nightmare.”
Grawlya-Ki was silent. Through the transparent outer wall of the lounge it was
watching the rapid approach of the ground transporter from the Illensan shuttle
The vehicle was^a great, multiwheeled silver bullet distinctively marked to show
that it was filled with chlorine, and tipped with a transparent control module
whose atmosphere was suited to its Nidian driver. MacEwan wondered why all of
the smaller intelligent life-forms, regardless of species, had a compulsion to
drive fast. Had he stumbled upon one of the great cosmic truths?
“Maybe we should try a different approach,” the Orligian said, still watching
the transporter. “Instead of trying to frighten them with nightmares, we should
find them a pleasant and inspiring dream to—What is that idiot doing?”
The vehicle was still approaching at speed, making no attempt to slow or turn
so as to present its transfer lock to the lounge’s exit port for breathers of
toxic atmospheres. All of the waiting travelers were watching it now, many of
them making noises which did not translate.
The driver is showing off, MacEwan thought. Reflected sunlight from the canopy
obscured the occupant. It was not until the transporter ran into the shadow of
the terminal building that MacEwan saw the figure of the driver slumped face
downward over its control console, but by then it was too late for anyone to do
anything.
Built as it was from tough, laminated plastic nearly a foot thick, the
transparent wall bulged inward but did not immediately shatter as the nose of
the vehicle struck. The control
module and its occupant were instantly flattened into a thin pancake of riven
metal, tangled wiring, and bloody Nidian fur. Then the transporter broke
through.
When the driver had collapsed and lost control, the automatic power cutoff and
emergency braking systems must have been triggered. But in spite of its locked
wheels the transporter skidded ponderously on, enlarging the original break in
the transparent wall and losing sections of its own external plating in the
process. It plowed through the neat rows of Tralthan, Melfan, Kelgian, and
Illensan furniture. The heavy, complex structures were ripped from their floor
mountings and hurled aside along with the beings unfortunate enough to still be
occupying them. Finally the transporter ground to a halt against one of the
building’s roof support pillars, which bent alarmingly but did not break. The
shock brought down most of the lounge’s ceiling panels and with them a choking,
blinding cloud of dust.
All around MacEwan extraterrestrials were coughing and floundering about and
making untranslatable noises indicative of pain and distress, Grawlya-Ki
included. He blinked dust out of his eyes and saw that the Orligian was
crouched, apparently uninjured, beside the transporter. Both of its enormous,
furry hands were covering its face and it looked as if it would shake itself
apart with the violence of its coughing. MacEwan kicked loose debris out of the
way and moved toward it. Then his eyes began to sting and, just in time, he
covered his mouth and nose to keep from inhaling the contaminated air.
Chlorine!
With his free hand he grasped the Orligian’s battle harness and began dragging
it away from the damaged vehicle, wondering angrily why he was wasting his
time. If the internal pressure hull had been ruptured, the whole lounge would be
rendered uninhabitable to oxygen breathers within a few minutes—the Ilknsans’
higher-pressure chlorine atmosphere would see to that. Then he stumbled against
a low, sprawling, membraneous body which was hissing and twitching amid the
debris and realized that it was not only the damaged vehicle which was
responsible for the contamination.
The Illensan must have been hit by the transporter and flung against a Kelgian
relaxer frame, which had collapsed. One of
the support struts had snagged the chlorine breather’s pressure* envelope,
ripping it open along the entire length of the body. The oxygen-rich atmosphere
was attacking the unprotected body, coating the skin with a powdery, sickly blue
organic corrosion which was thickest around the two breathing orifices. All body
movement ceased as MacEwan watched, but he could still hear a loud hissing