When he awoke he was lying in a bunk in a small metal cabin. Close beside his head there swung a curious helmet-like device linked by cables to a squat cabinet.
Makvern was standing looking down at him. He looked alert and wary and his hand rested casually on his holstered side-arm.
"How are you feeling now?" said Makvern.
Wyatt started a sour reply, and then he froze in an incredulous astonishment.
Makvern had not spoken in English. He had spoken in a totally strange language—and yet he, Wyatt, had understood him!
"What—how—" Wyatt began.
Makvern smiled. "How do you know the language of Uryx, our language, all of a sudden? Simple. Learning-tapes."
He gestured toward the helmet and the cabinet. Wyatt gaped like a yokel. It was too uncanny. Hearing words he'd never consciously heard before, and yet understanding them—
He articulated with difficulty. "Learning-tapes?"
Makvern sat down. "You've been under a seda-ray for some days, Wyatt. In fact, we're nearly to our rendezvous with the fleet, off Alpha Centauri."