"Very well, sir. I'll stand guard outside."
The medicouncilor was silent until the door closed. "Sit down, Docchi," he said with unexpected solicitude, pausing to note the effect. "I can sympathize with you. Everything within your reach—and then to return here. Well, I can understand how you feel. But since you did come back I think we can arrange to do things for you."
Docchi stared at the screen. A spot of light pulsed in his cheek and then flared rapidly over his face. "You probably will," he said casually. "But what about theft charges? We stole a ship."
"A formality," declared the medicouncilor with earnest simplicity. "With a thing like the discovery, or rediscovery, of the gravity drive, no one's going to worry about an obsolete ship. How else could you test your theories except by trying them out in actual flight?"
The medicouncilor was dulcet, coaxing. "I don't want to mislead you. Medically we can't do any more for you than we have. However you'll find yourself the center of a more adequate social life. Friends, work, whatever you want. In return for this naturally we'll expect your cooperation."
"Wait," said Cameron, walking to the screen and standing squarely in front of it. "I don't think you realize Docchi's part——"
"Don't interrupt," glowered Thorton. "I want to reach an agreement at once. It will look very good for us if we can show these famous people how well we work with our patients. Now, Docchi, how much of the drive can you have on paper by the time we land?"
"He can't have anything," Cameron started shouting. "I tried to tell you—he doesn't know——"
"Look out," cried Thorton too late.
Cameron's knees buckled and he clutched his legs in pain. Again Docchi kicked out and the doctor fell down. Docchi aimed another savage blow with his foot that grazed the back of Cameron's head. Blood trickled from his mouth and he stopped trying to get up.