Elliot opened his eyes slowly. He was no longer in the Vestend, but in a large, well-decorated office. Behind a gleaming-surfaced desk sat a short, fat man with jowls that jiggled as he spoke, and standing to his left was a brawny, not-too-intelligent-looking man with a heavy spacetan.
"How do you feel, Mr. Elliot?" the fat man asked.
"All right, I guess." He rubbed the back of his head. "What happened?"
"You got in a fight. Fortunately Sam, here, got you out."
Elliot looked at his benefactor. "Thanks, pal."
Sam shrugged morosely.
The fat man steepled his fingers and leaned forward solicitously. "Tell me—aren't you the Daniel Elliot who cracked up a spaceship in the jungles five years ago?"
"That's me," Elliot said.
The fat man nodded. "Mr. Elliot, I understand that you were near the Venusian Temple of Light—that you actually saw the Dragonbird with your own eyes. Can you tell me if the thing is a robot or is it actually alive?"