Stranger in a Strange Land

still! I'm not going to hurt you . . . Doctor! Doctor Nelson!
                Second Doctor: Yes, sir?
                Secretary General: Get Doctor Nelson.
                Second Doctor: Doctor Nelson? But he has left, sir. He said you took him off the case.
                Secretary General: Nelson said that? Damn him! Well, do something. Give him artificial respiration. Give him a shot. Don't just stand there- can't you see the man is dying?
                Second Doctor: I don't believe there is anything to be done, sir. Just let him alone until he comes out of it. That's what Doctor Nelson always did.
                Secretary General: Blast Doctor Nelson!

                The Secretary General's voice did not appear again, nor that of Doctor Nelson. Jill could guess, from gossip she had picked up around the hospital, that Smith had gone into one of his cataleptic withdrawals. There were only two more entries, neither of them attributed. One read: No need to whisper. He Can't hear you. The other read: Take that tray away. We'll feed him when he comes out of it.
                Jill was giving the transcription a third reading when Ben reappeared. He was carrying more onionskin sheets but he did not offer them to her; instead he said, "Hungry?"
                She glanced inquiringly at the papers in his hand but answered, "Starved."
                "Let's get out of here and shoot a cow."
                He said nothing more while they went to the roof and took a taxi, and he still kept quiet during a flight to the Alexandria platform, where they switched to another cab. Ben selected one with a Baltimore serial number. Once in the air he set it for Hagerstown, Maryland, then settled back and relaxed. "Now we can talk."
                "Ben, why all the mystery?"
                "Sorry, pretty foots. Probably just nerves and my bad conscience. I don't know that there is a bug in my apartment-but if I can do it to them, they can do it to me . . . and I've been showing an unhealthy interest in things the administration wants kept doggo. Likewise, while it isn't likely that a cab signaled from my flat would have a recorder hidden in the cushions, still it might have; the Special Service squads are thorough. But this cab-" He patted its seat cushions. "They can't gimmick thousands of cabs. One picked at random should be safe."
                Jill shivered. "Ben, you don't really think they would..." She let it trail off.
                "Don't I, now! You saw my column. I filed that copy nine hours ago. Do you think the administration will let me kick it in the stomach without doing something about it?"
                "But you have always opposed this administration."
                "That's okay. The duty of His Majesty's Loyal Opposition is to oppose. They expect that. But this is different; I have practically accused them of holding a political prisoner . . . one the public is very much interested in. Jill, a government is a living organism. Like every living thing its prime characteristic is a blind, unreasoned instinct to survive. You hit it, it will fight back. This time I've really hit it." He gave her a sidelong look. "I shouldn't have involved you in this."
                "Me? I'm not afraid. At least not since I turned that gadget back over to you."
                "You're associated with me. If things get rough, that could be enough."
                Jill shut up. She had never in her life experienced the giant ruthlessness of giant power. Outside of her knowledge of nursing and of the joyous guerilla warfare between the sexes, Jill was almost as innocent as the Man from Mars. The notion that she, Jill Ooardman, who had never experienced anything worse than a spanking as a child and an occasional harsh word as an adult, could be in physical danger was almost impossible for her to believe. As a nurse, she had seen the consequences of ruthlessness, violence, brutality-but it could not happen to her.
                Their cab was circling for a landing in Hagerstown before she broke the moody silence. "Ben? Suppose this patient does die. What happens?"
                "Huh?" He frowned. "That's a good question, a very good question. I'm glad you asked it; it shows you are taking an interest in the work. Now if there are no other