“No! Who in hell are you?” Nick struggled to get out of the chair he’d been dumped in, but was pushed back firmly.
“When you didn’t report, we went out to find you. The old guy at the gas station covered up for you, so we had to watch Beth’s house. Used all kinds of tricks, Lors. Why in the blue heaven didn’t you make contact?”
“You’re Narvi!” Nick stared with wide eyes. “You’re the man in the dream!”
“Dream? Say, what’s wrong with you, Lors? You refuse to report, you take pot shots at us... That crash was a bad thing; don’t tell me your head...”
“Narvi,” Thesa put in quickly. “The crash! He was lucky to get out of it alive. Maybe he can’t remember what went on. That right, Lors?”
Nick stared at them and foggy pictures swung vaguely into his mind. Galaxies of stars whirled [p99] about, silver ships streaking in the sky and tiny points of light whipping across ochre deserts. Men in blue uniforms drilling beneath a violet sky in the heat of a solar wafer splotched above them. It was real! The fears he had had, the crazy alternative that the dreams presented to him ... it was all real.
“It wasn’t a dream,” Nick muttered, shaking his head like a punch-drunk fighter. “I really am Firstspacer Lors! And I know you! I know you!”
“Take it easy, boy,” Narvi said softly. “You’ve had a bad time. I might have known you couldn’t report to us. Thesa, get some water! He looks as though he’s going to pass out!”
“I’m all right, I’m all right.” He looked at Narvi and the memories, at least a few of them, came fluttering into place. The temporary amnesia slipped aside and the veil began to rise.
“You’re sure you’re all right, Lors?”