The Totems of Abydos - By John Norman Page 0,36

Brenner waved to the crew member, that it might understand that all was well. It may have wondered what the point of Brenner’s floating about in the darkened lounge might have been but, tactfully, it did not approach the vicinity of the translation device and inquire. Besides, it was really none of its business. It was only a second-class crew member and Brenner was a passenger. Too, discovering Brenner in this unusual situation may have confirmed, or seemed to confirm, some preconception or other in its mind. It then loped to the exit with tiny clicks, where it turned, once again, to regard Brenner. It was difficult for Brenner to read expressions on that sort of face. The magnetic attachments at the rear claws were most often used when managing controls or monitoring panels, where one might wish to retain one’s exact position and orientation without reliance on secretions, which were occasionally unreliable, or, more mechanically, by webbing. Also, of course, these devices, when in contact with metal, provided immediate leverage for movement. Brenner waved again. He would turn off the lights. The crew member lifted a claw, opened its mouth, clapped its jaws twice, and then left. Brenner felt foolish, having been discovered in such an embarrassing state, so helpless, so disoriented. But his race, he knew, to many in the galaxy, counted as little more than amusing caricatures of rational life, nonentities, mediocrities, interesting perhaps as pets or clowns. Brenner, an arm anchored in the webbing, looked down at the plating where Rodriguez had directed him to imagine the directress, and in a certain sort of fashion. It was well thought Brenner, angrily, that she was not there, and in such a fashion, else she might have been, for no fault whatsoever of her own, whipped, and merely because he had been discovered in an embarrassing situation by another life form, merely because he felt foolish, merely because he was angry with himself. He supposed that such women were occasionally subjected to such attentions, and for no better reasons, that it was in effect a part of the hazards of their condition, or of their lot, that they were subject to such things, that they might be abused, or kicked, as might be any other form of animal, say, a dog.

Brenner looked about the lounge. Things were now in place. The lights were on. The webbing floated about, attached to its stanchions. He could see the door. He could see the controls for the lights, both at the port and near the door. By listening carefully he could detect the soft hum of the filtering system, regulating the gases in the room. He was still agitated by his conversation with Rodriguez, but now his blood had ceased to churn, no longer was he drenched with sweat, no longer was he afraid, or angry. He now, once again, had his values in order. How absurd for him to have let Rodriguez disturb him. Brenner’s tentative little odyssey of thought, stimulated by the hurricane of Rodriguez’ monstrousness, had subsided. To be sure, there was a lingering uneasiness in him. Rodriguez could have that effect on people. He did glance down once at a certain place on the plating but quickly glanced away. He must control his thoughts. He must not let them rise in him like a sun in the morning, or spring up like flowers, like grass or mountains. He must not attend to them. Who knew where such thoughts, such things, emerging as though from lairs concealed beneath distant horizons, asserting themselves imperiously, naturally, as though springing from forgotten seeds, as though growing from deep soils, might lead? Rodriguez is a monster, thought Brenner. Then he made his way to the exit, turned off the lights, left the lounge, and, amongst the pipes and girderwork, made his way to his cabin. Shortly thereafter, he had hooked himself in his rest webbing, and retired.

He did not go to sleep immediately.

He thought of a number of things, and, in particular, his assignment, and the world, Abydos.

As he grew drowsy, he found it more and more difficult to keep his mind from drifting back to his conversation with Rodriguez.

He is an unregenerate monster, thought Brenner.

And, too, as he grew more and more drowsy, it was difficult not to remember what the directress had looked like, as he had imagined her, with such specificity, on the plating, in that exact place. Even her expression recurred to him, and how she had lifted

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