Maggie's trembling hands reached for a cigarette. "I—I guess I didn't think, Ben. Venusians can't really read your mind, but they see your feelings, your emotions. It's a logical evolutionary development, I suppose. Auditory and visual communication are difficult here, so evolution turned to empathy. And that's why Jacob keeps a few Venusians in our group. They can detect any feeling of disloyalty before it becomes serious."
Ben remembered Simple Simon's icy gaze and the way his rough hand had gripped his heat pistol. "They could be dangerous."
"Not really. They're as loyal as Earth dogs to their masters. I mean they wouldn't be dangerous to anyone who's loyal to us."
Silently, she helped him back to his bed.
"I'm sorry, Maggie—sorry I haven't decided yet."
She neither answered nor looked at him.
Grimly, he realized that his status had changed. He was no longer a patient; he was a prisoner.
A Venusian day passed, and a Venusian night. The dust swirled and wind blew, as constant as the whirl of indecision in Ben's mind.
Maggie was patient. Once, when she caught him gazing at Jacob's photo, she asked, "Not yet?"
He looked away. "Not yet."