Trehearne looked up from the bunk and asked, “How long have I slept?”
“Nearly twenty-four hours by Earth reckoning,” Edri answered. “You needed it.” He leaned over and offered Trehearne a prosaic pack of American cigarettes. “Smoke?”
Trehearne took one and sat up. He smoked for some time in silence, remembering. Finally he said, “It all happened, didn’t it?”
Edri nodded.
“I know it must have, but I don’t believe it.” Trehearne shook his head. “Of all the incredible…. What were you doing there, Edri? How can you come and go on Earth without anyone knowing? What are the Vardda, besides—well, mutants?”
“Traders. Merchants. The most commercial race in the galaxy.” Edri lifted the cover off a tray on a small table by the bunk. “I brought your breakfast. Go ahead and eat while I gabble. How
