White, James – Sector General 05 – Sector General

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