"It doesn't kill?" came the dazed repeat again.
"No. The vortex slows the life processes to almost zero, but not quite. Several, repeated exposures will kill, of course, but two or three aren't too dangerous to healthy people."
"What do they do to recover them?"
"Heat lamps, massage, and a shot of cuperenalin."
"I've got my army then," said Guy quietly. "I've got my army!" His voice repeated the phrase, and his tone crescendoed from stunned quietness to an exultant roar. "I've got my men!"
"I don't understand," said Charalas.
"I don't expect you to," smiled Guy. "Below here, in the ocean, is my spacecraft. I'm leaving Ertene—but I'll be back. Oh, will I be back! Terra needs some Ertinian love of leisure, and Ertene needs some of Terra's ambition. As a team, they should get on fine!"
"What are you going to do?" asked Charalas in alarm.
"Terra pushed me around for trying to protect Ertene. Ertene shoved me out for being Terran. They're both blindly unreasonable. I'm going to play Kilkenny cats, Charalas."
"Play what?"