"Well, do something!" he cried. "You're a medical man, aren't you? Don't just stand there; do something!"
The Daan savant shook his head slowly.
"There is little we can do. Her flesh is charred to a crisp. Had we time—" He frowned—"we could graft new flesh to her burns, perhaps save her life. But the operation would take hours. She cannot live so long. She would die under the knife."
Duane cried, "But you've got to try something!"
And again Loala's eyes opened for a moment. He had to bend to hear her words.
"It does not matter, Steve of Emmeity. It would never have worked anyway, my plan. Though science altered your brain, no instrument could erase the scorings on your heart.
"In a month, a year—who knows?—one day at sight of that Earth woman an ancient memory would have wakened within you, and I would have lost you again. It is better this way. But—" She smiled feebly—"you did, just now, call me ... your princess. Did you not, Steve of Emmeity?"
A warmth misted Duane's eyes, and he whispered hoarsely, "I did, O Mistress of Every Delight."
"And this time," smiled Loala wanly, "you meant it, human Steve. It is enough. But—" A slight shudder stirred through her—"what is that I hear? A voice speaks madness. Someone cries your name!"
And Steve, stunned, looked up. In this moment of true sorrow he had not realized his name was roaring through the audio unit. Now he heard it again, clarion-clear, in the voice of Chuck Lafferty.