Well, he thought, at least he'd given the old man his name on the star maps until Earthmen stopped roving.
At least he'd given him that.
Mead was looking at him. "I don't suppose we've got time to let him die in peace, have we?" he asked.
Marlowe shook his head.
"I suppose we'll have to start breaking him immediately, won't we?"
Marlowe nodded.
"I'll get at it right away, sir."
Dave! Does everyone have to hate me? Can't anyone understand? Even you, uh—Creed. Even you, Mead?
IX.
Dalish ud Klavan, stooped and withered, sat hopelessly, opposite Marlowe, who sat behind his desk like a grizzled polar bear, his thinning mane of white hair unkempt and straggling.