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evenly over Albert's body in a thinlayer. The jelly shimmered, glowed, disappeared inward through Albert'sclothing and skin, diffusing through the subcutaneous tissues, sendinghair-like threads along nerve trunks and blood vessels until the threadsmet other threads and joined, and the Zark became a network ofprotoplasmic tendrils that ramified through Albert's body.

  Immediately the Zark turned its attention to the task of adapting itselfto its new host. Long ago it had learned that this had to be donequickly or the host did not survive. And since the tissues of this newhost were considerably different from those of the Bandersnatch, a greatnumber of structural and chemical changes had to be made quickly. Withsome dismay, the Zark realized that its own stores of energy would beinsufficient for the task. It would have to borrow energy from thehost--which was a poor way to start a symbiotic relationship.Ordinarily, one gave before taking.

  Fortunately, Albert possessed considerable excess fat, an excellentsource of energy whose removal would do no harm. There was plenty herefor both Albert and itself. The man's body twitched and jerked as theZark's protean cells passed through the adaptive process, and as thelast leukocyte recoiled from tissue that had suddenly become normal, hisconsciousness returned. Less than ten minutes had passed, but they wereenough. The Zark was safely in harmony with its new host.

  Albert opened his eyes and looked wildly around. The landscape was emptyof animate life except for the odorous carcass of the Bandersnatch lyingbeside him. Albert shivered, rose unsteadily to his feet and beganwalking toward Vaornia. That he didn't run was only because he couldn't.

  He found it hard to believe that he was still alive. Yet a hurriedinspection convinced him that there wasn't a tooth mark on him. It was amiracle that left him feeling vaguely uneasy. He wished he knew what hadkilled that grinning horror so opportunely. But then, on second thought,maybe it was better that he didn't know. There might be things in theDevan Forest worse than a Bandersnatch.

  * * * * *

  Inside the city walls, Vaornia struck a three-pronged blow at Albert'ssenses. Sight, hearing and smell were assaulted simultaneously. Nativesslithered past, garbed in long robes of garish color. Sibilant voicescut through the evening air like thin-edged knives clashing against thegrating screech of the ungreased wooden wheels of dak carts. Odors ofsmoke, cooking, spices, perfume and corruption mingled with theall-pervasive musky stench of unwashed Vaornese bodies.

  It was old to Albert, but new and exciting to the Zark. Its taps onAlbert's sense organs brought a flood of new sensation the Zark hadnever experienced. It marveled at the crowded buildings studded withjutting balconies and ornamental carvings. It stared at the dak caravansmaneuvering with ponderous delicacy through the swarming crowds. Itreveled in the colorful banners and awnings of the tiny shops lining thestreets, and the fluttering robes of the natives. Color was somethingnew to the Zark. Its previous hosts had been color blind, and thesymbiont wallowed in an orgy of bright sensation.

  If Albert could have tuned in on his fellow traveler's emotions, heprobably would have laughed. For the Zark was behaving precisely likethe rubbernecking tourist he himself was pretending to be. But Albertwasn't interested in the sights, sounds or smells, nor did the nativesintrigue him. There was only one of them he cared to meet--that slimydoublecrosser called Shifaz who had nearly conned him into a one-wayticket.

  Albert plowed heedlessly through the crowd, using his superior mass toremove natives from his path. By completely disregarding the code ofconduct outlined by the IC travel bureau, he managed to make respectableprogress toward the enormous covered area in the center of town thathoused the Kazlak, or native marketplace. Shifaz had a stand there wherehe was employed as a tourist guide.

  The Zark, meanwhile, was not idle despite the outside interests. Themajority of its structure was busily engaged in checking and cataloguingthe body of its host, an automatic process that didn't interfere withthe purely intellectual one of enjoying the new sensations. Albert'sbody wasn't in too bad shape. A certain amount of repair work would haveto be done, but despite the heavy padding of fat, the organs were ingood working condition.

  The Zark ruminated briefly over what actions it should take as itdissolved a milligram of cholesterol out of Albert's aorta andstrengthened the weak spot in the blood vessel with a few cells of itsown substance until Albert's tissues could fill the gap. Its knowledgeof human physiology was incomplete, but it instinctively recognizedabnormality. As a result, it could help the host's physical condition,which was a distinct satisfaction, for a Zark must be helpful.

  * * * * *

  Shifaz was at his regular stand, practicing his normal profession ofguide. As Albert approached, he was in the midst of describing theattractions of the number two tour to a small knot of fascinatedtourists.

  "And then, in the center of the Kazlak, we will come to the Hall of theBrides--Antar's greatest marriage market. It has been arranged for youto actually see a mating auction in progress, but we must hurry or--"Shifaz looked up to see Albert shouldering the tourists aside. Hisyellow eyes widened and his hand darted to his girdle and came up with aknife.

  The nearest tourists fell back in alarm as he hissed malevolently atAlbert, "Stand back, Earthman, or I'll let the life out of yourscaleless carcass!"

  "Doublecrosser," Albert said, moving in. One meaty hand closed over theknife hand and wrenched while the other caught Shifaz alongside the headwith a smack that sounded loud in the sudden quiet. Shifaz did a neatbackflip and lay prostrate, the tip of his tail twitching reflexively.

  One of the tourists screamed.

  "No show today, folks," Albert said. "Shifaz has another engagement." Hepicked the Antarian up by a fold of his robe and shook him like a dirtydustcloth. A number of items cascaded out of hidden pockets, among whichwas an oiled-silk pouch. Albert dropped the native and picked up thepouch, opened it, sniffed, and nodded.

  It fitted. Things were clearer now.

  He was still nodding when two Earthmen in IC uniform stepped out of thecrowd. "Sorry, sir," the bigger of the pair said, "but you have justcommitted a violation of the IC-Antar Compact. I'm afraid we'll have totake you in."

  "This lizard tried to have me killed," Albert protested.

  "I wouldn't know about that," the IC man said. "You've assaulted anative, and that's a crime. You'd better come peaceably with us--localjustice is rather primitive and unpleasant."

  "I'm an Earth citizen--" Albert began.

  "This world is on a commercial treaty." The guard produced a blackjackand tapped the shot-filled leather in his palm. "It's our business toprotect people like you from the natives, and if you insist, we'll useforce."

  "I don't insist, but I think you're being pretty high-handed."

  "Your objection has been noted," the IC man said, "and will be includedin the official report. Now come along or we'll be in the middle of ajurisdictional hassle when the native cops arrive. The corporationdoesn't like hassles. They're bad for business."

  * * * * *

  The two IC men herded him into a waiting ground car and drove away. Itwas all done very smoothly, quietly and efficiently. The guards weregood.

  And so was the local detention room. It was clean, modern and--Albertnoted wryly--virtually escape-proof. Albert was something of an experton jails, and the thick steel bars, the force lock, and the spy cell inthe ceiling won his grudging respect.

  He sighed and sat down on the cot which was the room's sole article offurniture. He had been a fool to let his anger get the better of him. ICwould probably use this brush with Shifaz as an excuse to send him backto Earth as an undesirable tourist--which would be the end of hismission here, and a black mark on a singularly unspotted record.

  Of course, they might not be so gentle with him if they knew that heknew they were growing tobacco. But he didn't think that they wouldknow--and if they had checked his background, they would find that hewas an investigator for the Revenue Service. Tech
nically, criminaloperations were not his affair. His field was tax evasion.

  He didn't worry too much about the fact that Shifaz had tried to killhim. On primitive worlds like this, that was a standard procedure--itwas less expensive to kill an agent than bribe him or pay honest taxes.He was angry with himself for allowing the native to trick him.

  He shrugged. By all rules of the game, IC would now admit about a twoper cent profit on their Antar operation rather than the four per centloss they had claimed, and pay up like gentlemen--and he would getskinned by the Chief back at Earth Central for allowing IC to unmaskhim. His report on tobacco growing would be investigated, but with thesketchy information he possessed, his charges would be impossible toprove--and IC would have plenty of time to bury