Somewhere a drum took up a steady monotonous beat.
He fell into a deep black quiet and all the sights and sounds grew smaller and fainter and disappeared entirely.
He awoke in a Porcyn hospital. Kielgaard was there, wearing a broad grin and brilliant Porcyn clothes and promising Dan a huge bonus. But it was all like a dream.
Kielgaard said the Porcyns were as mad as hornets. They had raised a battle fleet and it had taken a corps of diplomats and the Combined Intergalactic Space Fleet to argue them out of personally chopping Trans-Space into fine bits. No one knew what would finally happen, but meanwhile Galactic had its contract and everyone was tentatively happy.
His account finished, Kielgaard grinned more broadly yet and switched on a bedside televiewer.
Dan lifted his head off the pillow and looked at the screen. Then he stared.
It was the statue, solid once more on its base, the ring grasped firmly in one hand and a big wrench in the other. But something seemed different.
Dan at last saw what it was.
It was the face. It wasn't a bad face, if one expected to see strong cheekbones, copper skin and a high-arched nose.