Neytiri was shouting into the communications grid.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcWsj8UWycI
"Spock---Spock---come in! We read you, Balus, come in!" Dead sound hummed back through the grid. She stepped back, her mind whirling. "Nothing. No, not quite nothing." She activated another switch and spoke again.
"Security Officer Palmer."
"Palmer speaking," came the prompt reply.
"Neytiri here, Palmer. I want four of your best women in the transporter room double-quick. Use the ones already there if you think they can handle it. Fully armed. Phaser rifles, if they know how to use them."
"Yes, ma'am!" Palmer replied enthusiastically.
Neytiri left a bemused Gordon---he was humming and bawling something in Old English now---and headed for the elevator. Thatcher went with her, aiming for a different level.
Moments later she reached the transporter room. Subengineer Wojo---Chief Transporter Engineer Santos being as incapacitated as any other man on board---was in charge.
Thatcher arrived shortly thereafter equipped with full med-kit and tricorder. The four security girls were equipped with somewhat less benign instruments. No phaser rifle, but Neytiri didn't complain. The four were loaded with enough hardware to make themselves sufficiently impolite.
"Transport stations, people. Let's go." She was the first one into the alcove.
Subengineer Wojo outdid herself. They materialized inside the temple, at the far end of the audience chamber. There was barely time to orient themselves. Eron and the other women were waiting at the other end.
The sumptuous settings of the temple interior and occasional strange alien artifacts didn't bother them. They'd all (especially Neytiri) ben on far more alien worlds, in far more upsetting surroundings. Fleet security personnel were trained to fight by battling their way through robotic recreations of their own worst nightmares.
What did surprise them was the size of Eron and the others. Women they'd expected, but not giants. Neytiri's right hand strayed toward her hip. One burst from the heavy duty phaser strapped there would cut the biggest of them down to size.
The giantesses were gathered around a large transparent cube set into one wall. Apparently the Esmeralda security team had arrived just in time to upset some kind of ceremony connected with the cube. Certainly the giant women must've been shocked at the sudden appearance of the landing party, but they covered themselves well.
"Greetings," said the largest of them finally, stepping forward. "I am Eron, supremess of this compound."
If this gesture was supposed to be conciliatory, it failed. Nor was it intimidating. Neytiri took a step toward the bigger woman.
"Lieutenant Neytiri of the starship Esmeralda, 'supremess' of this bunch of party crashers. We're here to find Captain Thomas Sawyer and three other fellow crewmen. I have reason to think they've been treated with something less than total hospitality by you and your friends."
Eron seemed ready with an answer, but seemed to decide that Neytiri wasn't about to be bluffed or stalled. "Return to your ship," she said coldly. "You are not wanted here."
"Not until we find Captain Sawyer and our friends." Neytiri motioned to the other women and they started advancing on the little knot of terran (except for Neytiri, that is) females.
"Phasers on stun!" Neytiri shouted. "Fire!"
To their credit, none of the women halted their charge. Their courage didn't do them any good. One by one, the stopped-down phaser beams hit them and they fell to the floor. One got close enough to grab Thatcher in a not-so-delicate hand and lift her off the floor before a guard's phaser brought the huge attacker down. Thatcher was more stunned than hurt.
They left the giantesses that way, their nervous systems temporarily shorted out. Neytiri moved toward Eron, prodded her firmly in the side with the end of her tail. She prodded a little harder.
Satisfied that the latter wasn't faking, and a little teed-off at herself for the pleasure she was deriving from jabbing the unconscious woman, she stepped back. Big they might be, but they possessed no supernormal resistive powers.
She gave orders to the waiting group. "Search this place---parties of two. Becky, you come with me." The security teams immediately split up, taking three corridors at a time.
In a little side chamber, Spock lay in darkness on a thin bench of unresilient stone. His hidden face was drawn, the lines in it deeper now. But his eyes were open and his breath was constant, if not steady.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLfjKv3uWOz
Voices? Were those voices? It took a herculean effort just to raise his head from the stone. Then...
"No sign of them anywhere. Keep looking!"
That was definitely Neytiri! And Nurse Thatcher was there, too!
He tried to yell, failed. His body had grown too weak. That left him with one final possibility. Lifting his head higher, his eyes narrowed with effort as he stared toward the door.
Neytiri and Thatcher found themselves moving down a high, featureless corridor when Thatcher suddenly paused. She looked like someone had just hit her in the face with a water balloon. There was a voice, Spock's voice! But it was---inside her head!
"....nurse thatcher....nurse....thatcher....?"
"What is it, Becky?" asked Neytiri. Thatcher looked bewildered.
"I thought---I heard Bal's voice. But I guess...."
"---BECKY---"
There was no mistaking that mental shout! She found her eyes turning frantically to a seemingly blank section of wall. "It is Bal! But how? Of course! Vulcan mind projection. It's got to be!"
She moved to stand close to a section of the wall. A fast inspection revealed no hint of a latch, knob, dial, or even a seam. She began running her fingers carefully along the dark metal.
"There must be a hidden catch here, somewhere...there must be!" Neytiri joined her in the hunt. Rapidly the two women went over the smooth surface. No, not totally smooth...
It was Thatcher who found the slight depression just above her head and pressed inward with her thumb. There was a slight click and a tall, narrow panel pivoted on its axis. They entered a dark room of indeterminate size. The only light came from the hallway they'd just left.
But there was sufficient illumination to show them the long table. Spock lifted his head once more to and tried to speak. As he did so, the light from the corridor struck his face.
Thatcher swayed. "Mr. Spock....!" Neytiri wanted to scream, but that would have been out of character for an acting commander. Still, the calculated suppositions of the medical computer hadn't prepared her for anything like this.
All she could do was ask inanely, "What happened?" Spock strained to reply but he couldn't. He'd been thoroughly drained. He leaned back and closed his eyes, passing slowly from consciousness. Involuntary Vulcan nerves had had enough. This body needed rest. The effort needed to general the successful mind link with Thatcher had worn him out.
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The urn stood silent in the darkening garden, unnoticed, uninspected. A strong breeze was now nudging branches and flowers with ungentle force. It seemed to lull for a minute, then come back suddenly as real wind, a lashing, tearing gale which bent all but the thickest trees.
Sculptured lightning etched copper trails in the gray sky, while alien thunder rolled and echoed back from distant unseen hills. Rain started to fall, slowly at first, fat drops spotting the ground in hesitant, exploring patterns.
Seconds later the storm turned into a raging downpour that would have shamed any tropical rainforest on Earth. Now the reason for the slight downward slant of the garden and temple grounds became obvious. Streams, rivers of runoff vanished down camouflaged, neatly screened holes and into a complex drainage system.
The wind leveled off and blew steadily from the north, but the rain increased, became a torrent, a cataract, falling in solid waves from the clouds. It was a typical Clooan storm, but it would have scared any terran weatherman to death.
Sawyer, Finn, and Ross had been lying weakly in the urn's bottom. Now they found themselves forced to stand as the downpour drenched them without mercy. The slick sides of the urn provided capricious support.
Each drop seemed to raise the water level in the urn by millimeters. It rose with shocking, alarming speed. And the storm showed no sign of letting up.
"We have to get out of this," Sawyer mumbled. The sound of his aged voice barely rose above the splash of accumulating water. Slowly, painfully. Ross struggled to lift Sawyer toward the urn's lid. But their faded strength proved unequal to the task. And the slippery convex walls were unclimbable. They tried again and again. Again and again Sawyer slipped back.
There was nothing to do but keep on trying, but it was to no avail. Ordinarily, their situation wouldn't have been so desperate. Even if they couldn't reach the top all they had to do was tread water until the rising level carried them up. But in their seriously weakened condition, such an effort might be beyond them.
Even if they did somehow manage to stay afloat all that time in the cramped quarters, it was doubtful that any of them would have the strength to slid aside the heavy metal grid covering the top. They might hold onto the grid, press their faces partway through to keep breathing---but eventually their grip would weaken, slip, and one by one they'd sink quietly beneath the surface.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhg0rILqTwJ
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Thatcher transported back to the ship with Spock and immediately moved the first officer down to Life Station. Thatcher hoped that just getting him off the planet might help. Initial sensor readings seemed to confirm her hopes, partially. His strength was coming back, but it was still the strength of an old man. His eyes stayed shut.
Thatcher had been fooling with the headband encircling the first officers forehead for what seemed like hours. Eventually she'd given up hope of finding a catch. Praying there was nothing automatic in it that would explode on release, she went to work with a surgical laser.
The carefully controlled light removed it neatly. Setting the metal circlet aside she prepared a measured injection. The aged body didn't reject the strong medication. She'd been very careful gauging the amount of stimulant. No one on the ship was used to programming dosages for an old person.
Removing the spray hypo from Spock's arm, she set it aside and sat back to watch him. After a few minutes the eyelids fluttered and opened.
"Mr. Spock...?" His head turned. He'd grown no younger, no more supple, but at least he could talk now."
"Instruct female engineer," he coughed, waiting till the fit had passed and started again, more confidently. "Instruct female engineer to divert ship's energy to block probe. Use electromagnetic deflectors. Computer will calibrate probe frequency....block..."
Thatcher slowly shook her head. "We tried that, Mr. Spock. It didn't work."
Spock shook his head violently, found the effort nearly blacked him out.
"Don't use normal deflector energies." HIs voice was growing stronger as the drug raced through his system. "Divert all ship's power into shield. Everything but minimum life-support." HIs eyes closed but he forced them back open and extended a shaky, withered hand.
"Hurry, Becky." She nodded obediently and turned toward the intercom.
"Get me engineer Gor…." She stopped in midphrase. Chief Engineer Gordon was in no shape to program a coffee pot, much less handle complete realignment of the Esmeralda's power energizers. "Get me Subengineer Nadine Jorkins."
She nodded with satisfaction. Jorkins would handle the complete readjustment of forces with ease---if in her eagerness to please everyone she didn't blow up the ship first.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ueNr1z4bO
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The women regained consciousness slowly. There was no moaning, no groans at the tingling aftereffects of the phasers.
Eron, the strongest of the group, was already on her feet. Her initial antagonism had gone. She showed no desire to challenge even a tickling phaser effect again.
Instead, she retreated against the central dais and watched Neytiri.
The object of her attention waited until enough of the other giantesses had recovered to make the demonstration worthwhile. She reset her phaser while searching around the room, settled on a good-sized, cube-shaped table, and fired.
The blinding phaser beam struck it with impressive force and the solid construct of stone and metal fused into a little lump of glowing slag. There was a concerted gasp of horror from Eron and the other women. Neytiri's voice had taken on a new intensity, too.
"Release Captain Sawyer, Dr. Finn, and Ensign Ross right now, or we'll melt your temple down into a pink puddle!" She raised the phaser slightly. "But first, maybe, we'll start with you---piece by piece."
Eron didn't reply---just stood and looked defiant. Trying to exhibit a casualness she didn't feel, Neytiri shrugged and raised her phaser the rest of the way, pointing it at a nearby, beautifully worked stone column. Eron wavered, and a restraining hand gestured hurriedly.
"Wait! No more destruction. I do not know where your people are..." Neytiri's finger tightened on the trigger, and Eron's tone grew frantic.
"It's true! They escaped, but wait and I shall find them for you. I was about to do so when you appeared."
She left the dais and once again approached the transparent shape of the Oxxa. The note was hummed and the machine came on.
"I will find your men for you. But first learn of us and the reasons for our actions."
"I could care le..." Neytiri began, but Eron was already speaking to the cub.
"Our history---reveal it."
Neytiri tried to appear unimpressed as a lifelike miniature of a handsome man appeared in the cube. The detail was unbelievable. The man's hair was short, green, and done up in ringlets. Standing beside him a second later was an equally attractive woman, also with hair of green.
"This is the race from whom we are descended," Eron informed Neytiri. "They came to this planet with you call Cloo when their home world began to die." She gestured around at the silent hall.
"They built this temple and all surrounding it....the automatic food machinery, the gardens, the underground recycling systems....everything." The image in the cube blurred, then slowly cleared again to reveal the man standing alone.
He was changed, shrunken now, old and white-haired and hunchbacked. Eron's voice became sad. "They did not know that radiations on this planet drain the life-energy from a body.
"But the women developed a glandular secretion which partly enabled them to withstand these debilitating effects. It also gave them the ability to manipulate, through special devices and a certain native mineral, the now weakened males---to draw life-energy from them to replace what the radiations stole.
"So in learning how to resist this planet's life-hunger, they acquired that same need. In drawing on the life-force of the men, they caused them to age and die. We are the daughters of those first women. They built the Lia'a-nag, which draws men to us, the Oxxa, and they designed the focusing headbands."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqDrbh06YAF
As Eron continued with her tragic history, rain continued to fall. Most particularly it continued to fall into a certain large lump of pottery, in which Sawyer and the others splashed weakly, half-floating now, their toes bouncing off the bottom. Neytiri, as she listened to Eron, had no way of knowing how close Sawyer, Finn, and Ross were to drowning.
"To maintain our long life," Eron was saying, "we must revive ourselves this way every 27 years of your time."
Phari broke in unhappily. "We are eternal prisoners of this need, which we did not ask for. We age very slowly. Our damning immortality has also cost us the ability to bear children. The necessary organs are still there, but they do not function. A by-product of our increased life."
Neytiri didn't have to ask how they knew this.
"Why don't you just live out your normal life spans?" asked one of the security guards.
"We have no weapons here, no way to destroy the Lia'a-nag. And when the men eventually arrive," she hesitated, "we are afraid. We have no wish to be killed as monsters. We have always feared this would happen were we to confess to what we have done."
"So we follow the plan, and the cycle goes on."
Neytiri muttered to herself. These poor creatures had never known any civilization but their own pitifully confined fragment of history. They'd never known any other way to react, never thought to take the chance of asking for help.
Sympathy later, she reminded herself. They were wasting time---time which might be precious to an aged Sawyer, Finn, and Ross. How precious, she didn't yet know.
"That's all very interesting," she replied honestly. "Now, what about Captain Sawyer and his companions? If your fancy crystal ball can find them, why haven't you done it already?"
"We were about to," Eron reminded, "but you came." She turned to face the cube.
"The men of the Esmeralda who remain on our world---reveal them."
An image began to form, screened by plants and vines.
"The garden outside the temple," Eron informed them. The image blurred again, then solidified. Then it was if they were peering at some impossible kind of moving cutaway drawing.
They were looking inside the urn. Sawyer, Finn and Ross were bobbing inside, pawing at the water which washed over and around them. Sawyer and Ross had unsteady grips on the grid covering the urn. Sawyer had a grip on Finn, and his fingers slipped. Finn slid below the surface as the captain made frantic flailing motions at the water, struggling to reach him.
"They're drowning!" Neytiri exclaimed. She turned to face Eron and her hand tightened on the trigger of the phaser. "Where are they? Take us there now, or...."
"The ceremonial urn in the far glade!" the giantess shouted.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOaqT0F6VTC
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Driving, unrelenting rain soaked everything, obscuring their sight for all but a few meters in any direction. The light was dim, except when an occasional streak of lightning shouldered its way between the clouds and threw trees and thick creepers into sharp relief.
Neytiri and the security party followed Eron through the nightmarish storm, phasers drawn. Neytiri kept hers focused squarely on the middle of the giantess's back and stayed close on the big woman's heels.
Back in the temple she'd seemed docile enough, but Neytiri was taking no chances on her vanishing suddenly in the darkness. Let her try something....
Without any warning from Eron they burst into the open glade. The urn looked innocent enough, standing firmly in the high wind. No sign that there were three men floating inside, their lives ebbing away with each passing minute.
"Phasers on setting 3!" Neytiri yelled over the drumming rain. "Aim for the base!" She was firing her own weapon as soon as she'd given the order.
The concerted low-powered energy from the five phasers struck the base of the ceramic container. Four broad cracks appeared instantly. Water gushed out of the urn as if from four spigots. The sudden release of internal pressure was too much. Cracks multiplied, and the urn broke apart.
Sawyer, Finn, and Ross were washed out like wet logs, tumbling and falling over pieces of broken pottery down the slanted muddy ground. Neytiri and the other women from the Esmeralda had shut off their phasers and were rushing toward them even before the blow of water had subsided.
Neytiri's face twisted in pain when she saw Sawyer. He'd aged even more than Mr. Spock. And Finn----
"Tslolam-tirea!" she muttered, flipping her communicator to open. "Neytiri to Esmeralda. Subengineer Yolo, transporter room." The voice of the technician acting for Chief Santos shot down through the gray clouds.
"Yolo here, Lieutenant."
"Four to beam up, Yolo--and gently, Yolo, gently. We've got some---injured people down here."
"Yes, Lieutenant, I've seen Mr. Spock."
Neytiri flipped the communicator closed. "Ensign Hammer, you're in charge. I'm going up with the captain and Finn. Jordan, you'll come with me. I'll send you back down for Ross."
"Excuse me, ma'am," interrupted Hammer, "but what about her---and the others?" She gestured at the silently watching Eron.
"If they don't give you any trouble, leave them alone. But if they go near anything more modern than a spoon, or get violent---shoot them."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVek6IzF7rq
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The medtables were waiting in the transporter room. Nurse Thatcher was somewhat ready for the experience of seeing Sawyer and Finn, but her assistants weren't. Nor was Gordon, who was assisting Yolo in the transporting.
"Mr. Spock's screen is working," he said in answer to Neytiri's unvoiced question. "The rest of the men are recovered, aside from some ghastly headaches. Most of us would rather not discuss the whole matter, Lieutenant Neytiri."
"Don't blame yourself, Mr. Gordon," she replied. "You were acting under an irresistible outside compulsion."
"I still feel like an idiot," the chief engineer grumbled.
"Far be it for me to deny you the pleasure of feeling like one," Neytiri admitted. Gordon grinned.
Thatcher was admonishing her shocked assistants.
"You've seen old men before," she said with an assurance that she didn't feel, "now get moving!"
Drugs and injections restored some strength to the four aged men, but they remained as "old" as before. Thatcher ran test after test on them, took reading after reading. It was a tossup as to which result was less depressing than the others.
"No joy, Captain," she finally had to admit. "The aging process seems to be the real thing, speeded up. I can't find any way to reverse it. I've---I've tried everything I can think of. Maybe Dr. Finn....?" Her tone was hopeful.
But Finn's wasn't. "I can't imagine anything you haven't already tried, Thatcher." Dismayed silence filled the exam room.
"I'm not ready to retire from the service," Sawyer mumbled. Nobody laughed.
Spock, who'd lain deep in thought ever since the first injections had refreshed his mind, broke in.
"The transporter is the key."
"Key to what?" snapped Finn testily.
"Our restoration. The transporter computer automatically records the molecular structure of everyone and everything it handles. Humanoid patterns are permanently recorded and shifted to a special section of the library. It's part of the ship's security systems.
"Think, gentlemen, the records of our original forms were re-recorded when we beamed down to the planet." Sawyer's face showed up.
"You think, Spock, that if we are transported back to the surface and then immediately brought back under the patterns recorded previously, our former bodies would be restored?"
"Possibly, Captain. It has never been attempted before. Theoretically, a man could be transported back into his child's body, if the pattern were available. The danger---mental as well as physical---has precluded experimentation in this area. There would not be a second chance."
"I'm not crazy about our chances right now," Sawyer replied. "If you think there's any chance at all, Spock."
"There is a chance, Captain."
Sawyer leaned back on the table and spoke to Neytiri. "Inform Engineer Gordon of our plans and tell him we'll be back in transporting as fast as," he grinned, "our wheels will carry us."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfVnsCURfH0
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"I don't think much of this idea, sir," Gordon said when the details had been explained to him.
"Look at me, Mr. Gordon," Sawyer ordered. "Every other attempt to restore our original bodies has failed. This may be our only chance. You're absolved of all responsibility for it. It's my decision---mine, Mr. Spock's, Ross's, and Huck's. We have to try it."
"I'll do my best, sir."
"You've got to do better, Tony."
With the aid of Thatcher's assistants the four men were helped into the transporter alcove. Finn was unable to stand and had to sit on the transporter disk.
"Go ahead, Mr. Gordon."
Gordon resisted the urge to draw a deep breath, drew down the levers. The men glittered, faded, and were gone.
There was a beep from the transporter console less than one minute later.
"We're on the surface, Mr. Gordon," came Spock's voice. "Reprogram the computer as indicated according to the previously recorded patterns."
Gordon delicately shifted four new settings into the transporter control. The settings were crucial and required matching the new patterns to the old with no room, absolutely no room, for error. He checked it once, could have checked it a dozen times more without being completely satisfied.
"All right, Mr. Spock. Here goes." He began adjusting the proper dials and switches, his eyes glued to one small unassuming gauge set in the console under his right arm.
"I heard them say this has never been done before, Mr. Gordon," Thatcher whispered. "What happens if this doesn't work, if things don't match up right?"
"If they're a little bit off, miss, just a little bit---then the atomic structure of Captain Sawyer, Mr. Spock, Dr. Finn, and Ross will break up, disperse---scatter to every corner of the universe. And not all the king's horses nor all the king's men will ever put the captain together again."
All talking ceased as Gordon, using more care than he ever had in a transport operation, slowly brought the necessary levers upward. The familiar hum of pattern integration increased. Transporter Chief Santos had arrived and now stood to Gordon's left, double-checking readouts.
"So far so good, Chief."
Four outlines began to shimmer into view and coalesce.
"Easy, easy..." Scott murmured to himself.
The outlines steadied, began to take on color--and suddenly began to oscillate violently.
"Tony, we're losing them!" yelled Neytiri helplessly.
Gordon didn't reply, his hands working faster on the controls. The four outlines seemed to separate into sixteen tiny sections, flutter still more wildly, and then reform into four shapes again.
The oscillation slowed, stopped. Now the humming steadied, and the four outlines started to fill in once more.
"Coming up on mark zero," noted Santos, just a slight tremor in his voice hinting at tenseness. "Two---one---mark!" Gordon slammed four levers down so hear it seemed sure he'd shove them right through the console and into the floor.
Sawyer blinked and looked around. Neytiri smiled in relief.
"You're more handsome than ever, all of you." They were themselves again!
Well, not exactly.
"That's very nice of you, Lieutenant," Finn replied, "but why is everyone staring at us?"
"Yes, Tony, aren't you going to beam us down? It's time we figured out what that probe...." He looked around and a puzzled expression came over his face. "Say, that's odd, Mr. Spock, have you noticed? The music's stopped."
"Indeed it has, Captain. Most odd."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpcOut1y2nT
Neytiri felt like the girl who'd just stepped through the looking glass. "What's going on here? Aren't you glad to be back in your own bodies again?"
Sawyer looked at her strangely. "Back? I don't remember having left mine anywhere, do you, Huck?" Finn shrugged, looked innocent.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTk1NDfXtBD
"I think I know what's happened, mused a thoughtful Gordon.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT5vO64DVav
"Well, I wish you'd tell me," pleaded a badly confused Neytiri.
Gordon turned to her. "Well, it's really very simple, miss. The captain, Mr. Spock, Dr. Finn, and Mr. Ross are once more as they were before they first beamed down to the planet. That not only includes their youthful looks, it includes their original brain patterns, which include memories. They've lost some time---and experiences."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFuepyrHZCB
"What's all this, Mr. Gordon?" queried Sawyer, stepping off the platform. "Why the delay?"576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD4hErTmz8g
"It's kinda complicated, Captain," started Gordon. "We have some tapes from Spock's tricorder, plus those from Dr. Finn's and Ensign Hammer's which should clear things up.....576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbzR8BhVM2O
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Neytiri hesitated, but the look in the giantess's eye seemed real, even anxious. She handed over the phaser.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmysbpbzUlq
Eron could only fit one fingernail over the trigger, but she managed the tiny weapon well enough. In a few moments the Lia'a-nag had been reduced to a gently hissing mound of molten plastic and metal. Eron turned and quietly handed the phaser back to the watching Neytiri.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiBGBV0Xj0k
"Tell Captain Sawyer we have kept our part of the agreement."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2lMnw1s5k1
Neytiri nodded approvingly. Despite herself, she was starting to feel sorry for these poor, bloated creatures.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWVC3yjpVsN
"There are major medical facilities on Tuccides. We'll take you there." She noticed that the other women had appeared in the doorway and were watching expectantly.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVL0MHpBVYW
"How soon can we become as other humanoid women?" asked Eron.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZZkI6Vp7SU
"Dr. Finn says it should only take a few months. The same modified estrogen that increases your life-spans abnormally is also responsible for your exceptional size, apparently. Certain surgeries are possible ... bone reduction, for example, to partially correct this. You'll still be unusually tall, but the differences will be more manageable."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvCyB34AO4h
"A new life - a normal life - perhaps love." She smiled down at Neytiri, who didn't know whether to cry or vomit. "There are many different kinds of immortality."576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh4379P0qv0
That expression, at least, Uhura could empathize with.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIyJSb9zI9K
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576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1NzJUjFGD1
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As expected, Finn's declaration that the Clooan women would be able to lead a normal life was somewhat optimistic. The arrival of the dozen spectacular beauties on Tuccides created something of a sensation. Their reception at the Space Federation Squadron Hospital was rather different from that normally reserved for sick aliens.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡREAeCZIYpP
The doctors professed that they were only interested in studying the endocrine irregularity that seemed to prolong life---but Sawyer suspected that more than scientific curiosity motivated the male portion of the staff. 576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSZFyH5Zw6m
In any case, it looked like the Clooans were going to have few troubles gaining acceptance as Space Federation citizens. They might be regarded as a challenge, it seemed, but not a threat.576Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY2XgPxbRBP
