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Table of contents
CONTENTS
LESSON-1-2
LESSON-3
LESSON-4.1
LESSON-4.2
LESSON-5.1
LESSON-5.2
LESSON-6.1
LESSON-6.2
LESSON-7.1
LESSON-7.2
LESSON-7.3
LESSON-8
LESSON-9
LESSON-10.1
LESSON-10.2
LESSON-11
LESSON-12
LESSON-13.1
LESSON-13.2
LESSON-14
LESSON-15.1
LESSON-15.2
Contraception
The Sex Life of the Gods. Michael Knerr. CHAPTER-1
CHAPTER-2-3
CHAPTER-4
CHAPTER-5-6
CHAPTER-7-8
CHAPTER-9-10
CHAPTER-11-12
CHAPTER-13-14
CHAPTER-15-16
CHAPTER-17-18-19

 

The young spacer flushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know who you were." 

He pointed to the door behind him. "You may go through there. Straight 

down the corridor until you reach the fourth ward." 

 

"Doctor Zuloe will be there?" 

 

"I think so." 

 

"Thank you." 

 

Lors shoved the door open and walked down the long hall toward the 

fourth ward, not quite sure in his mind how he could spring the Terran 

from the hospital and get him down to where the scout ships were 

hangared. But it had to be done. If he failed, and they all ended up 

dead, or thrown into the penal colonies on Thista, the trade program 

with Terra would be set back at least fifty years. All the ground they 

had gained, all the knowledge and plans they had formulated, would be 

useless. They would have to start from scratch. 

 

The wrecked scout ship could be covered up, but the loss of Detective 

Lieutenant Brice and Nicholas Danson would not go unnoticed, especially 

when Beth Danson spilled her story about the strange events that had 

gone on at the cabin. Of course, Terra would never be able to 

corroborate what she had experienced - yet they were on the verge of 

space travel, and they were a war-like race. They could cause all sorts 

of unnecessary trouble in space. 

 

It had to work. He had to get both of them back to the planet, even if 

it meant stopping a slug from an auto-rifle to do it. 

 

He reached the door to the fourth ward and went in to look for Doctor 

Zuloe. The man wasn't hard to find; he was the only person in the small 

anteroom. 

 

"What can I do for you, Firstspacer?" He asked. "I'm Doctor Zuloe." 

 

"I'm Lors." 

 

For a moment, they stared at each other. The doctor was a middle-aged 

man with a weathered skin stretched over a rather aquiline set of 

features. His small, bird-like eyes were piercing in their study of 

Lors' face. He smiled thinly and ran a hand through greying hair. 

 

"Lors, huh? You the one who went down there?" 

 

"I was in the accident. In a sense, I suppose I'm to blame for having 

brought Brice up here." 

 

"You know him?" Doctor Zuloe's eyes narrowed visibly. 

 

"Yes. At least, I think I know him better than you people do." 

 

"Then perhaps you can help us with him. When he arrived here, he was in 

a state of acute shock in which he was almost violent. He kept screaming 

about witchcraft and all sorts of Terran nonsense. We gave him as much 

treatment as we could, under the circumstances, and he stopped acting 

like a wildman." 

 

"How is he now?" 

 

"Numb. He's sitting on his bed, in a special room, and staring at the 


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