read Morris's mind. But Morris sat quietly drinking his tonic-and-tonics, waiting for something to happen. While I argued in whispers with the Monk.
"But the ship!" he whispered. "What of the ship?" His agony was mine; for the ship must be protected.
At one fifteen the Monk was halfway across the bottom row of bottles. He slid from the stool, paid for his drinks in one dollar bills, and drifted to the door and out.
All he needed was a scythe and hour glass, I thought, watching him go. And what I needed was a long morning's sleep. And I wasn't going to get it.
"Be sure nobody stops him," I told Morris.
"Nobody will. But he'll be followed."
"No point. The Garment to Wear Among Strangers is a lot of things. It's bracing; it helps the Monk hold human shape. It's a shield and an air filter. And it's a cloak of invisibility."
"Oh?"
"I'll tell you about it if I have time. That's how he got out here, probably. One of the crewmen divided, and then one stayed and one walked. He had two weeks."
Morris stood up and tore off his sport jacket. His shirt was wet through. He said, "What about a stomach pump for you?" "No good. Most of the RNA-enzyme must be in my blood by now. You'll be better off if you spend your time getting down everything I can remember about Monks, while I can remember anything at all. It'll be nine or ten hours before everything goes." Which was a flat-out lie, of course.
"Okay. Let me get the dictaphone going again?'
"It'll cost you money."
Morris suddenly had a hard look. "Oh? How much?" I'd thought about that most carefully. "One hundred thousand dollars. And if you're thinking of' arguing me down, remember whose time we're wasting."
"I wasn't." He was, but he'd changed his mind.
"Good. We'll transfer the money now, while I can still read your mind."
"All right."
He offered to make room for me in the booth, but I declined. The glass wouldn't stop me from reading Morris's soul.
He came out silent; for there was something he was afraid to know. Then: "What about the Monks? What about our sun?"
"I talked that one around. That's why I don't want him molested. He'll convince others."
"Talked him around? How?"
"It wasn't easy." And suddenly I would have given my soul to sleep. "The profession pill put it in his genes; he must protect the ship. It's in me too. I know how strong it is."
"Then-"
"Don't be an ass, Morris. The ship's perfectly safe where it is, in orbit around the Moon. A sailship's only in danger when it's between stars, far from help."
"Oh."
"Not that that convinced him. It only let him consider the ethics of the situation rationally."
"Suppose someone else unconvinces him?"
"It could happen. That's why we'd better build the launching laser."
Morris nodded unhappily.
The next twelve hours were rough.
In the first four hours I gave them everything I could remember about the Monk teleport system, Monk technology, Monk family life, Monk ethics, relations between Monks and aliens, details on aliens, directions of various inhabited and uninhabited worlds . . . everything. Morris and the Secret Service men who had been posing as customers sat around me like boys around a campfire, listening to stories. But Louise made us fresh coffee, then went to sleep in one of the booths.
Then I let myself slack off.
By nine in the morning I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, dictating a random useless bit of information every thirty seconds or so. By eleven there was a great black pool of lukewarm coffee inside me, my eyes ached marginally more than the rest of me, and I was producing nothing.
I was convincing, and I knew it.
But Morris wouldn't let it go at that. He believed me. I felt him believing me. But he was going through the routine anyway, because it couldn't hurt. If I was useless to him, if I knew nothing, there was no point in playing soft. What could he lose?
He accused me of making everything up. He accused me of faking the pills. He made me sit up, and damn near caught
"But the ship!" he whispered. "What of the ship?" His agony was mine; for the ship must be protected.
At one fifteen the Monk was halfway across the bottom row of bottles. He slid from the stool, paid for his drinks in one dollar bills, and drifted to the door and out.
All he needed was a scythe and hour glass, I thought, watching him go. And what I needed was a long morning's sleep. And I wasn't going to get it.
"Be sure nobody stops him," I told Morris.
"Nobody will. But he'll be followed."
"No point. The Garment to Wear Among Strangers is a lot of things. It's bracing; it helps the Monk hold human shape. It's a shield and an air filter. And it's a cloak of invisibility."
"Oh?"
"I'll tell you about it if I have time. That's how he got out here, probably. One of the crewmen divided, and then one stayed and one walked. He had two weeks."
Morris stood up and tore off his sport jacket. His shirt was wet through. He said, "What about a stomach pump for you?" "No good. Most of the RNA-enzyme must be in my blood by now. You'll be better off if you spend your time getting down everything I can remember about Monks, while I can remember anything at all. It'll be nine or ten hours before everything goes." Which was a flat-out lie, of course.
"Okay. Let me get the dictaphone going again?'
"It'll cost you money."
Morris suddenly had a hard look. "Oh? How much?" I'd thought about that most carefully. "One hundred thousand dollars. And if you're thinking of' arguing me down, remember whose time we're wasting."
"I wasn't." He was, but he'd changed his mind.
"Good. We'll transfer the money now, while I can still read your mind."
"All right."
He offered to make room for me in the booth, but I declined. The glass wouldn't stop me from reading Morris's soul.
He came out silent; for there was something he was afraid to know. Then: "What about the Monks? What about our sun?"
"I talked that one around. That's why I don't want him molested. He'll convince others."
"Talked him around? How?"
"It wasn't easy." And suddenly I would have given my soul to sleep. "The profession pill put it in his genes; he must protect the ship. It's in me too. I know how strong it is."
"Then-"
"Don't be an ass, Morris. The ship's perfectly safe where it is, in orbit around the Moon. A sailship's only in danger when it's between stars, far from help."
"Oh."
"Not that that convinced him. It only let him consider the ethics of the situation rationally."
"Suppose someone else unconvinces him?"
"It could happen. That's why we'd better build the launching laser."
Morris nodded unhappily.
The next twelve hours were rough.
In the first four hours I gave them everything I could remember about the Monk teleport system, Monk technology, Monk family life, Monk ethics, relations between Monks and aliens, details on aliens, directions of various inhabited and uninhabited worlds . . . everything. Morris and the Secret Service men who had been posing as customers sat around me like boys around a campfire, listening to stories. But Louise made us fresh coffee, then went to sleep in one of the booths.
Then I let myself slack off.
By nine in the morning I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, dictating a random useless bit of information every thirty seconds or so. By eleven there was a great black pool of lukewarm coffee inside me, my eyes ached marginally more than the rest of me, and I was producing nothing.
I was convincing, and I knew it.
But Morris wouldn't let it go at that. He believed me. I felt him believing me. But he was going through the routine anyway, because it couldn't hurt. If I was useless to him, if I knew nothing, there was no point in playing soft. What could he lose?
He accused me of making everything up. He accused me of faking the pills. He made me sit up, and damn near caught
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