Joel shrugged, rose from the prisoner's chair. He looked big, burly beside the fragile guard. There was something appealing about his strong homely features—a quizzical directness, an honesty.
"Come along," said the guard.
Joel's nostrils flared as he caught the guard's scent for the first time. It was man-like and yet alien—a curious unrecognizable smell that raised the hair on the back of his neck!
The guard seemed unaware of Joel's scrutiny. He was a thin elderly man in the Republic's blue and yellow uniform. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.
"Come along," the guard repeated, and Joel permitted himself to be led into the corridor that ran back to the cells.
The door had scarcely closed on the courtroom, when the guard said in an altered tone, "Keep walking. And don't say a word once we reach the cells. Spy recorders have been installed in all of them!"
Joel came to a dead stop. "Who are you?"
"Keep walking!" The blue uniformed guard tugged in panic at Joel's elbow.
"One of our men'll contact you at the Experimental Station. Don't mention this to anyone!" He gulped slightly. "This is going to hurt some. Don't be startled; it's necessary."