He stopped the first man he met and asked directions to the hospital. When he tried the second major language of the planet, he received an answer rather than a shrug. Ten blocks. No trouble.

As he neared the eight-story building, he withdrew a narrow sliver of crystal from a case he carried. Fed into their med-bank, it would tell the doctors all they needed to know about Heidel von Hymack.

However, when he entered the smoky, periodical-strewn lobby, he found that he did not need to present immediate identification. The receptionist, a middle-aged brunette in a silver, sleeveless thing, belted at the waist, was on her feet and moving toward him. She wore an exotic native amulet on a chain about her neck.

"Mr. H!" she said. "We've been so worried! There were reports--"

He leaned his staff against the coat rack.

"The little girl ... ?"

"Luci's still holding on, thank the gods. We heard that you were flying up here, and then they lost radio contact; and--"

"Take me to see her doctor at once."

The three other inhabitants of the lobby--two men and a woman--stared at him.

"Just a moment."

She returned to her desk, touched controls behind it and spoke into a communications unit.

"Please send someone to the front desk to fetch Mr. H," she said; and to him, "Won't you be seated while you wait?"

"I'll stand, thank you."

Then she regarded him again, through blue eyes which for some reason made him feel uncomfortable.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Power failure in several systems," he said, looking away. "I had to belly-land it and walk."

"How far?"

"Quite a distance."