Didn't finish step a); passed out head downwards.

Lucky this was emergency-last-resort routine. Stu LaJoie had been notified before we left; news services had been warned shortly before we landed. I woke up with people leaning over me, passed out again, woke up second time in hospital bed, flat on back with heavy feeling in chest--was heavy and weak all over--but not ill, just tired, bruised, hungry, thirsty, languid. Was a transparent plastic tent over bed which accounted for fact I was having no trouble breathing.

At once was closed in on from both sides, a tiny Hindu nurse with big eyes on one side, Stuart LaJoie on other. He grinned at me, "Hi, cobber! How do you feel?"

"Uh... I'm right. But oh bloody! What a way to travel!"

"Prof says it's the only way. What a tough old boy he is."

"Hold it. Prof said? Prof is dead."

"Not at all. Not in good shape--we've got him in a pneumatic bed with a round-the-clock watch and more instruments wired into him than you would believe. But he's alive and will be able to do his job. But, truly, he didn't mind the trip; he never knew about it, so he says. Went to sleep in one hospital, woke up in another. I thought he was wrong when he refused to let me wangle it to send a ship but he was not--the publicity has been tremendous!"

I said slowly, "You say Prof 'refused' to let you send a ship?"

"I should say 'Chairman Selene' refused. Didn't you see the dispatches, Mannie?"

"No." Too late to fight over it. "But last few days have been busy."

"A dinkum word! Here, too--don't recall when last I dossed."

"You sound like a Loonie."

"I am a Loonie, Mannie, don't ever doubt it. But the sister is looking daggers at me." Stu picked her up, turned her around. I decided he wasn't all Loonie yet. But nurse didn't resent. "Go play somewhere else, dear, and I'll give your patient back to you--still warm--in a few minutes." He shut a door on her and came back to bed. "But Adam was right; this way was not only wonderful publicity but safer."

"Publicity, I suppose. But 'safer'? Let's not talk about!"

"Safer, my old. You weren't shot at. Yet they had two hours in which they knew right where you were, a big fat target. They couldn't make up their minds what to do; they haven't formed a policy yet. They didn't even dare not bring you down on schedule; the news was full of it, I had stories slanted and waiting. Now they don't dare touch you, you're popular heroes. Whereas if I had waited to charter a ship and fetch you... Well, I don't know. We probably would have been ordered into parking orbit; then you two--and myself, perhaps-- would have been taken off under arrest. No skipper is going to risk missiles no matter how much he's paid. The proof of the pudding, cobber. But let me brief you. You're both citizens of The People's Directorate of Chad, best I could do on short notice. Also, Chad has recognized Luna. I had to buy one prime minister, two generals, some tribal chiefs and a minister of finance--cheap for such a hurry-up job. I haven't been able to get you diplomatic immunity but I hope to, before you leave hospital. At present they haven't even dared arrest you; they can't figure out what you've done. They have guards outside but simply for your 'protection'--and a good thing, or you would have reporters nine deep shoving microphones into your face."

"Just what have we done?--that they know about, I mean. Illegal immigration?"

"Not even that, Mannie. You never were a consignee and you have derivative PanAfrican citizenship through one of your grandfathers, no huhu. In Professor de la Paz's case we dug up proof that he had been granted naturalized Chad citizenship forty years back, waited for the ink to dry, and used it. You're not even illegally entered here in India. Not only did they bring you down themselves, knowing that you were in that barge, but also a control officer very kindly and fairly cheaply stamped your virgin passports. In addition to that, Prof's exile has no legal existence as the government that proscribed him no longer exists and a competent court has taken notice--that was more expensive."

Nurse came back in, indignant as a mother cat. "Lord Stuart you must let my patient rest!"

"At once, ma chere."

"You're 'Lord Stuart'?"

"Should be 'Comte.' Or I can lay a dubious claim to being the Macgregor. The blue-blood bit helps; these people haven't been happy since they took their royalty away from them."

As he left he patted her rump. Instead of screaming, she wiggled it. Was smiling as she came over to me. Stu was going to have to watch that stuff when he went back to Luna. If did.

She asked how I felt. Told her I was right, just hungry. "Sister, did you see some prosthetic arms in our luggage?"

She had and I felt better with number-six in place. Had selected it and number-two and social arm as enough for trip. Number-two was presumably still in Complex; I hoped somebody was taking care of it. But number-six is most all-around useful arm; with it and social one I'd be okay.

Two days later we left for Agra to present credentials to Federated Nations. I was in bad shape and not just high gee; could do well enough in a wheel chair and could even walk a little although did not in public. What I had was a sore throat that missed pneumonia only through drugs, traveler's trots, skin disease on hands and spreading to feet--just like my other trips to that disease-ridden hole, Terra. We Loonies don't know how lucky we are, living in a place that has tightest of quarantines, almost no vermin and what we have controlled by vacuum anytime necessary. Or unlucky, since we have almost no immunities if turns out we need them. Still, wouldn't swap; never heard word "venereal" until first went Earthside and had thought "common cold" was state of ice miner's feet.

And wasn't cheerful for other reason. Stu had fetched us a message from Adam Selene; buried in it, concealed even from Stir, was news that chances had dropped to worse than one in a hundred. Wondered what point in risking crazy trip if made odds worse? Did Mike really know what chances were? Couldn't see any way he could compute them no matter how many facts he had.

But Prof didn't seem worried. He talked to platoons of reporters, smiled at endless pictures, gave out statements, telling world he placed great confidence in Federated Nations and was sure our just claims would be recognized and that he wanted to thank "Friends of Free Luna" for wonderful help in bringing true story of our small but sturdy nation before good people of Terra--F. of F.L. being Stu, a professional public opinion firm, several thousand chronic petition signers, and a great stack of Hong Kong dollars.

I had picture taken, too, and tried to smile, but dodged questions by pointing to throat and croaking.

In Agra we were lodged in a lavish suite in hotel that had once been palace of a maharajah (and still belonged to him, even though India is supposed to be socialist) and interviews and picture-taking went on--hardly dared get out of wheel chair even to visit W.C. as was under orders from Prof never to be photographed vertically. He was always either in bed or in a stretcher--bed baths, bedpans, everything--not only because safer, considering age, and easier for any Loonie, but also for pictures. His dimples and wonderful, gentle, persuasive personality were displayed in hundreds of millions of video screens, endless news pictures.

But his personality did not get us anywhere in Agra. Prof was carried to office of President of Grand Assembly, me being pushed alongside, and there he attempted to present his credentials as Ambassador to F.N. and prospective Senator for Luna--was referred to Secretary General and at his offices we were granted ten minutes with assistant secretary who sucked teeth and said he could accept our credentials "without prejudice and without implied commitment." They were referred to Credentials Committee--who sat on them.