IN THE PHOSPHORESCENT dimness, I dropped beside the girl. She was panting with terror, shuddering, with her hands before her face.
“It’s all right,” I murmured. “Or at least, maybe it isn’t all right with you, but he’s dead, anyway.”
Utterly incongruous, the delicately formed bronze-white girl—and that hulking, grotesque, clumsy savage.
“Oh—yes,” she murmured. “Dear—yes—”
“You speak English—strange, here on Vulcan—”
“But from your Captain Roberts—he was the fren’ of mine—of all the Senzas—”
“He’s dead. An arrow in him—lying over there by his wrecked ship—the rest of them, dead inside—”
“Yes. I know it. That was these Orgs. I was caught—just the last time of sleep. Tahg—surely it seems it must be Tahg who sent this Org to take me from my father’s home—”
A captive! And she had fought
