Hewlitt made a small, untranslatable sound which only the Padre heard. In a loud, reassuring whisper Lioren said, “Don’t distress yourself, friend. The major’s office has its own food dispenser, and if we aren’t allowed to eat then we won’t talk.”
“…and a Hudlar-guided litter will get you here sooner than traveling on foot,” O’Mara went on. “Is there anything else you need to tell me before then?”
Hewlitt was not sure whether the words were the result of fatigue, malnutrition, or sheer relief. He laughed and said, “Only that I have a psychological problem. I seem to have become an exhypochondriac with absolutely nothing wrong with me who wants to stay in hospital. I don’t want to go back to minding Earth sheep.”
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