An elongated pencil-ray of a man bounced nervously out to her side. "Altha," he scolded, scrubbing at his reddened bald skull with a long-fingered hand, "why do you never listen to me? I promised your father I'd look after you." He hitched at his tattered skin robe.
The girl laughed, a low liquid sound that made Rolf's heart pump faster. "This Mark Tanner of mine," she explained to the patrolman, "is always afraid for me. He does not remember that I can see into the minds of others."
She smiled again as Rolf's face slowly reddened. "Do not be ashamed," she said. "I am not angry that you think I am—well, not too unattractive."
Rolf threw up the mental block that was the inheritance from his grueling years of training on Earth Base. His instructors there had known that a few gifted mortals possess the power of a limited telepathy, and the secrets of the Planet Patrol must be guarded.
"That is better, perhaps." The girl's face was demure. "And now perhaps you will visit us in the safety of the vaults of ancient Aryk."
"Sorry," said the tall man as Rolf sprang easily from the ground to their side. "I'm always forgetting the mind-reading abilities of the Hairy People."
"She one of them?" Rolf's voice was low, but he saw Altha's lip twitch.
"Mother was." Mark Tanner's voice was louder. "Father was Wayne Stark. Famous explorer you know. I was his assistant."
"Sure." Rolf nodded. "Lost in equatorial wastelands—uh, about twenty years ago—2053, I believe."
"Only we were not lost on the surface," explained Tanner, his booming voice much too powerful for his reedy body, "Wayne Stark was searching for the lost seas of Mars. Traced them underground. Found them too." He paused to look nervously out across the blasted wasteland.