"Drink this."
McCade opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the ugliest Il Ronnian he'd ever seen. He'd never seen a really good-looking Il Ronnian, of course, but even by their standards, this one put the ug in ugly. He had a bulging forehead and one eye that was slightly higher than the other.
But the Il Ronnian held a cup of water in one taloned hand and McCade was extremely thirsty. Thirsty enough to accept water from the devil himself.
McCade propped himself up on one elbow and drank greedily.
The Il Ronnian shook his head in mock dismay. "Teeb would have a heart attack if he saw you sucking H20 like an Ikk at a water hole. You must drink the holy fluid reverently like this."
The Il Ronnian used both hands to pick up a cup of water. Then he bowed his head over it, closed his eyes, and said, "Let life flow through me." Opening his eyes, he drank the water in a series of small sips.
McCade put his cup down and swung his feet over the side of his bunk. Cool air flowed around him. He was back aboard Pegasus.
"Take it easy," the Il Ronnian advised. "You're still suffering from the aftereffects of heat prostration. Since we're a bit short of human doctors, we asked your computer for a course of treatment."
McCade rubbed the back of his neck. "And?"
The alien grinned. "Your computer suggested we put a bullet between your eyes. Do all your computers joke around like that?"
"What makes you think it was joking?" McCade asked.
He got up, groped his way to the medicine cabinet, and fumbled two pain tabs into the palm of his hand. It seemed as if pain tabs were becoming a regular part of his diet. He dumped them into his mouth, squirted some water into a glass, and lifted it to his lips.
Finding the Il Ronnian's eyes on him, he dropped his head, mumbled "Let life flow through me," and gulped the water down.
The Il Ronnian shook his head sadly as he cranked up the gain on his heat cape. "Better . . . but still something short of civilized."
McCade padded down the corridor into the lounge and collapsed into a seat. The Il Ronnian did likewise, his red cape swirling around him.
McCade opened a humidor, took out a cigar, and puffed it into life. His throat felt raw, but he sucked the smoke into his lungs anyway, and blew it out in a long gray stream. He eyed his companion through the smoke. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but what the hell's going on, and who the hell are you?"
The Il Ronnian smiled. "I'll take your questions in reverse order if you don't mind. My name is Neem, I'm your nif, or tutor. You are an Ilwig, the first human to ever achieve that honor, and you're getting ready for phase two of your testing."
"I passed phase one then?"
Neem nodded. "With flying colors. You really shook 'em up. Up till now everyone had assumed that the bracelet spoke only to Il Ronnians. A bit ethnocentric . . . but understandable nonetheless."
McCade looked at his wrist. The bracelet was missing.
"It came off when you fell," Neem said in reply to his unasked question.
"That's strange," McCade said, rubbing his wrist. "The damned thing wouldn't budge when I tried to take it off."
"I had the same problem," Neem agreed. "But it came off quite easily once my testing was over. Our more rational theologians think the bracelet is some sort of artificial intelligence device that knows that it's become part of our religion and goes along with the gag."
Neem shrugged. "Nonetheless, we continue to take it quite seriously. In fact, if someone else heard you call the bracelet a 'damned thing,' they'd shove a stake up your anus and leave you in the desert to die."
"Sorry," McCade said humbly. "I didn't mean it that way. It's an amazing artifact. I wish my race had one."
Neem gave a very human shrug. "Why? In spite of the bracelet we killed our greatest teachers, including the great Ilwik, and continue to ignore most of his teachings. Wonderful though it is, the bracelet cannot bestow wisdom on those who haven't earned it."
McCade tapped some ash into an ashtray and regarded the Il Ronnian anew. There was something different about him. Where most Il Ronnians were rigidly formal, he was informal. Where most Il Ronnians were distant, he was friendly. And where most Il Ronnians were secretive, he was open. In fact, now that he thought about it, Neem seemed more human than Il Ronnian. Even his manner of speech was more human than Il Ronnian.
McCade pointed his cigar in Neem's direction. "No offense, but you strike me as different somehow, more like a member of my race than yours."
Neem smiled and revealed some razor sharp dentition in the process. "True. I wondered when you'd notice. As it happens, I'm an expert on human culture; in fact, I have the equivalent of a Doctorate in exoanthropology. Added to that is the fact that I'm not exactly normal."
"Not exactly normal?" McCade asked. "In what way?"
"Well," Neem replied, looking down at his lap. "I'm insane."
McCade choked on some cigar smoke. "Insane? They gave me an insane tutor?"
Neem held up both hands in protest. "It's not as bad as it sounds, Sam. I'm not psychotic or anything. It's just that I'm excessively individualistic. That coupled with an unhealthy interest in humans renders me clinically insane. That's why they made me your nif, because a computer search found that I'm one of the few Il Ronnians who like humans enough to tutor one. Have you noticed how ugly I am?"
McCade tried to look surprised. "Ugly? You look fine to me."
Neem shook his head. "Nice try, Sam, but among other things, I'm an expert at human facial expressions. The point is that I look like this because of a birth defect. Like the deformed members of most cultures, I was excluded by my peer group throughout childhood and left to my own devices. As a result I was poorly socialized, developed a rather rich fantasy life, and eventually went off the deep end. Or so my shrink says."
McCade raised an eyebrow. "And what do you say?"
Neem grinned. "I say exactly what any insane person would say. I'm fine . . . and everyone else is crazy." Then Neem leaned forward as if sharing a secret.
"Actually this could be my big break. Hanging out with a human is pretty weird, but it sure beats hell out of a rubber room, and if I do well, maybe they'll let me teach again."
McCade took a deep drag on his cigar and did his best to look sympathetic. Just his luck. An impossible mission, a bizarre initiation into an alien religion, and an insane tutor. What next?