******************************************************

Author:                                  Alan Dean Foster

Title:                                       Bloodhype

Original copyright year:                 1973

Genre:                                     Science Fiction


******************************************************

By Alan Dean Foster : Published by Ballantine Books:

The Icenggger Trilogy

               ICERIGGER

               MISSION TO MOULOKIN

               THE DELUGE DRIVERS

The Adventures of Flinx of the Commonwealth

               FOR LOVE OF MOTHER?NOT

               THE TAR?AIYM KRANG

               ORPHAN STAR

               THE END OF THE MATTER

               FLINX IN FLUX

               MID?FLINX

               BLOODHYPE

               THE HOWLING STONES

The Damned

                Book One: A CALL TO ARMS

                Book Two: THE FALSE MIRROR

                Book Three: THE SPOILS OF WAR

THE BLACK HOLE                                CACHALOT

DARK STAR                                THE METROGNOME and Other Stories

MIDWORLD                                NOR CRYSTALTEARS

SENTENCED TO PRISM                                SPLINTER OF THE MIND'S
EYE

STAR TREK@ LOGS ONE?TEN                                VOYAGE TO THE CITY
OF THE DEAD

WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . .                                ... WHO NEEDS
ENEMIES?

MAD AMOS                                PARALLELITIES*



'forthcoming

Books published by The Ballantine Publishing Group are available at
quantity discounts on bulk purchases for premium, educational,
fund?raising, and special sales use. For details, please call
1?500?733?3000.

******************************************************

A Del Rey Book

Published by Ballantine Books



Copyright  1973 by Alan Dean Foster



All rights reserved under International and Pan?American Copyright
Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division
of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random
House of Canada, Limited, Toronto, Canada.



ISBN 0?345?31021?7



Manufactured in the United States of America



First Edition: March 1973

Eighth Printing: May 1984



Cover art by Darrell K. Sweet

******************************************************

                                    For

                             Lynette Harrington

                        who lives around the corner

******************************************************

I eat, therefore I am.

Such was the extent of the Vom's consciousness.

This had not always been so, but at the moment there was no way the Vom
could become aware of it. The mechanical process of remembering required
energy the Vent did not have to spare. All of the tiny amount of radiant
energy from the system's sun that the Vom could convert was needed to
preserve the life?sense.

To do this the Vom had assumed a special configuration. At present it
varied in thickness from a few millimeters to several microns. It had done
this out of necessity, millennia ago. How many millennia? The Vom did not
know or remember.

It couldn't spare the energy.

The system hadn't always been dead. At one time this planet had harbored a
modestly successful ecosystem: plants and animals from the one?celled to
the very complex; vertebrates, invertebrates, things warm? and coldblooded,
gymnosperms, fungi, lichens, fliers, burrowers, crawlers, runners and
swimmers. It was ruled by an undistinguished if moderately intelligent
race. It had begun to die when the Vom arrived.

As to the method of arrival, the Vom could recall neither when nor how.
Dimly it could remember a state of former greatness, of which its present
self was less than a shadow. In that state it had dominated a thousand
systems.

Arriving in this one, it had toyed with the local dominants. Its persistent
and strenuous attempts at achieving mental assimilation with another
life?form failed, as it had failed a hundred thousand times before. That
didn't keep the Vom from trying.

The race resisted with violence. It was consumed. The planet was rich in
life?force of more primitive kind. Having absorbed that of the most
intelligent beings, the Vom began on those less so. It worked its voracious
way slowly through the ecosystem, down through the simple plants and fungi
and even to the bacteria and viroids. The Vom was frighteningly efficient.
It ate until the globe was scoured clean, clean. Then nothing moved on its
surface or in its seas except wind, water, and the Vom.

Sated, the Vom rested for a long time. Then, using its always successful
ploy of contacting another intelligent race and taking control of the
curious vessels that would come to investigate, it broadcast into the space
around it. Once carried by unwilling servitors to a new planet, it would
begin the cycle of feeding anew.

But this time the Vom had waited too long. The race it contacted came, but
they were strong?stronger than any the Vom had ever encountered. Its mental
control wavered. For the first time in its well?ordered existence, the Vom
panicked. It destroyed all aboard the approaching ships. A fatal error. The
race was made aware of the true nature of the horror that had contacted it.
The next time, it sent robot warships with a single prepared Guardian. One
of their most powerful and capable minds, the Guardian was not understood
even by its own kind. The Vom now tried to attract the ships of another
species, but space?going races were scarce in this section of the galaxy.
Those few who did send ships were warned away or destroyed by the robot
watchers. As its stored energy was drained by these efforts the Vom grew
progressively weaker, shrinking in power and ability. No longer necessary,
many of the robot warships were recalled by their builders. There was a
great war with another race tormenting the center of the galaxy.

Almost, the Vom escaped. A wild photonic storm tore through that section of
space. The few remaining robot controls were incapacitated. Even the
Guardian itself was weakened. The Vom drew some strength from the strange
life?forms that rode the storm, but .... not enough. In utter terror the
Vom discovered that every space?going race within its reduced sphere of
influence had died off or perished in the storm. Its mental collapse was
hastened by hopelessness.

Now the Vom had plenty of time to reflect on its mistakes. It had used the
planet too thoroughly, scoured it too clean of life. The system had been
over employed. Enough should have been left to reproduce and maintain a
reasonable ecosystem, for just such an emergency. But the Vom had glutted
itself thoroughly. Not a living cell had existed on the planet for a
thousand years. Great as it was, it could not create life.

So, one by one, the higher functions were shut down, lost, as the great
organic factory that was the Vom ran down, until only the barest flicker of
life remained.

One day?the Vom knew it was day because of the presence of solar energy?a
ship came down. It was not a large ship, being midway between courier and
destroyer classification. But it was quite well armed and very functional,
as were all the ships of the AAnn.

By rights the reptiles had no business in this part of space, on the
fringes of the Humanx Commonwealth. The immensity of nothingness, however,
made an excellent hiding place. Occasionally, daring scouts penetrated the
humanx patrol cordon in search of unexplored systems possessed of
exploitable resources?and sometimes on even less savory missions.

They nosed around, nowtimes finding something, nowtimes running afoul of a
Church patrol (and then there would be empty places in many nests), rarely
discovering something. All traveled without Empire sanction. Since by
treaty with the Commonwealth this was prohibited, all such activities were
of course quite illegal. However, since goods not traded for on a legal
footing were exempt from taxation, the rewards for the AAnn businessman who
backed a successful incursion were often enormous. In this respect the
Emperor indirectly condoned such actions.

Rockets flared at the base of the small vessel. Being a scout, it was
expected to have to land on planets not equipped with shuttle facilities.
This was as expensive as it was necessary. Naturally, it could not land on
interstellar drive (the AAnn equivalent of the advanced humanx KK drive
propulsive system). The gigantic artificial mass generated by a KK or
similar drive system could not impinge on the real mass of a planetary
surface without something giving. Matter caught in such a manner invariably
reacted. Violently. So ships used advanced shuttle?vessels to transfer
passengers and goods from the surface to orbiting ships. A scout could, in
effect, become its own shuttle.

The vessel set down close by the southern edge of the Vom. That section of
the creature reveled in the sudden, unexpected surge of radiant energy.
Within the metal capsule that rode the column of energy it sensed far
stronger forces in the form of clean life?force. Almost, it reached out for
them. Then a feeble spark of thought overrode primal instincts.

Not yet! Not yet! Patience! Besides, there was a more urgent need for the
surprise gift of energy.

The Vom began to wake itself up.



Navigator?First Paayton RPHGLM was chewing reflectively on his tail,
staring out the port of the captain's cabin. He spoke without turning.

"Well, Exalted Captain, I have surely never seen anything like it!" The
bright red pupils were unblinking.

Exalted Captain Laccota SIFD scratched his belly where two of his ventral
plates joined and turned to his principal scientific advisor. "Well,
Carmot, this is where you start earning the credits Lord Ilogia? his scales
be thrice-blessed! ?has been paying you. You've sat on your tail for four
time?lengths while we've sweated dodging humanx sting?ships."

Cannot MMYM was shorter than the other two. In fact, he was the shortest
lizard on the ship. Externally he was rather a foppish specimen, addicted
to brightly colored body harness and (to the captain's mind) the decadent
habit of dyeing his incisors pink. A million years ago he would have been a
quick meal for an attacking tribe. Today, however, intelligence counted for
more than fang and claw. He possessed a sharp mind, excellent recall, and
was as devious as anyone else on board. Personally, Exalted Captain Laccota
disliked him. Professionally, he held him in high esteem.

"I don't like it," said the Observer?First finally.

"You are not paid to like or dislike anything," offered Laccota patiently.
"With the best will in the world, I remind you that you are paid only to
estimate any potential profit in whatever we may turn up. We have
definitely turned up something, here in this egg?forsaken system."

"I reiterate; I don't like it! I don't understand this at all, and I don't
like what I can't understand."

"An attitude shared by many," said Laccota. "Tell us what we have here,
Observer?most?competent?and?overpaid, and I will like it or dislike it for
you."

"Very well, Exalted?flier?of?ships?by?the-tip-of?his?tail." Carmot nibbled
idly on a claw. "When Observer?Fifth Plowlok first brought it to my
attention, as we proceeded with our standard survey orbit, my initial
reaction was the mental composition of a severe reprimand. Being young,
Observer?Fifth Plowlok SFDVIUTVB has the usual tendency of young explorers
to draw fanciful rather than objective readings from strictly prosaic
instrumentation. This time, however, he was full accurate."

Cannot stopped chewing and waved in the direction of the glassalloy port.
"We have out there, gentlesirs, an organic impossibility. An area of total
living blackness that follows the contours of the land, every dip and rise,
at a paper?thinness for several thousand square cluvits. Absurd, of cause.
There is nothing else like it anywhere on the planet. Nor, I venture to
hypothesize, in this system. It is unique. It is utterly remarkable. It is
impossible ...

"Properties, geatlesirs, properties! It is not harmed or visibly affected
by any kind of radiation we can generate. possibly more sophisticated
devices will be able to?I don't know. Nor is the energy so directed
reflected. It simply disappears, as measurements of the underlying basalt
seem to indicate. Somehow, in the space of a mere section or two of itself,
it absorbs all radiation or otherwise removes it from the understandable
physical universe . . .

"Two days ago First?Geologist Onidd CRCRS and I left the ship to perform
what we innocently believed would be the simple task of removing a few
samples of tire thing for analytical purposes."

"Didn't have much luck, did you?" murmured Navigator Paayton still chewing
on his tail and staring out the port.

"Hardly," said Carmot drily. "When I first attempted to touch it, it drew
away from my fingers. I believe my sense of surprise was rather
peremptorily expressed over the communit."

"Your command of the invective was something of a surprise," admitted
Laccota.

"Um. Yes. After several similar attempts at different spots along its
border failed, I walked off and took a long run at the thing. The lower
gravity made such an idea seem feasible. It retreated completely, with
incredible swiftness, just before my boots made contact with its surface...

"Geologist Onidd observed that it was noticeably thicker around its new
edge. Therefore we established that it was folding back on itself and not
perfuming some mystifying vanishing act. Onidd then removed his beamer and
attempted to cut a piece from the main body. The results were
enlightening..

"While it had retreated precipitately from physical contact, it made no
effort to dodge the lethal beamer. Onidd concentrated his beam on one thin
spot for several time. parts. No effect was observed. The thing did not
cut, bum, smoke, or otherwise take notice of a sharp?focus beamer that can
cut through most metals and heat armor?plate red?hot. I then joined the
efforts of my own beamer to Onidd's. We might as well have been beaming at
the sun...

"Now, as to the problem of its aliveness, about which there has been some
question. If it is alive, it is a totally alien sort of aliveness that
permits itself to be energy beamed at close range yet refuses to allow a
mere touch from a living being."

"Your conclusions," prompted Laccota impatiently.

"Even so, I believe it lives. It may draw sustenance from the sun, although
I find no evidence of a photosynthesis?type reaction, and certainly no sign
of chlorophyll. I do not see how else it can draw food. The basalt revealed
when it drew back from us has been minutely examined. It exhibits no
abnormalities and is in no way different from untouched samples taken
elsewhere. I still will not attempt to say whether it is more animal than
vegetable. It may, indeed, be neither."

"And your recommendations?" Laccota asked.

Carmod stood quietly for a long moment. "Raise ship and traverse parsecs as
fast as this antiquated tub will go.

The captain's transparent nictitating eye membranes flickered. Even Paayton
was sufficiently stimulated to turn from his extended contemplation of the
outside.

"Indeed," murmured the captain. "And your reasoning?"

Cannot said simply, "I have a feeling."

"Really! You have a feeling. My, my. Shell of females, an interesting entry
to make in the log. Lord Ilogia will be most understanding and sympathetic.
You `have a feeling.' Rejected. First alternate proposal"

Carmot sighed?along, hissing sound, like a steam engine running down. "Tie
into the nearest intersystem relay. Use long band. Break in if you have to.
Contact the nearest planet where we have landing privileges?it will be
humanx controlled, of course...

Laccota looked to the navigator. "Is there an appropriate place?"

Paayton's computer?trap mind turned businesslike. "Umm. The humanx Outpost
colony world of Repler might be . . . yes, I foresee no problems. A
sparsely populated world, much of it still in the wild state, with a
largely urban population and a considerable tourist trade. The largest
shuttle station is very modern, but not equipped to handle much in the way
of a naval force. No orbiting naval station. We have a fair?sized
diplomatic mission there, with plenty of privacy and room. 'The weather is
miserable, but most of the station is underground, naturally. It should be
adequate."

"Contact them," continued Carmot. "Tell them we want the biggest freighter
in the sector, along with five or six of the largest shuttles, two of which
must be max?class, and about twenty miles of flexible harmony plating, with
plenty of tow cable. Operators for all, of course. Also, at least one
large, high?intensity beamer?it needn't be military; industrial strength
should do fine. One that can provide a steady output without burning out
every other time?length. Tell them to bring replacement parts, just in
case."

"You plan to transport the thing, then?"

"If we can induce it to assume manageable proportions, yes. Prom
hindsight?clever Paayton's description of the station we have at this
Repler place, we should have facilities which can at least be expanded to
provide a place where this thing can be properly handled and analyzed."

"Won't that be rather risky?" put in Paayton "Attempting to work in secret
right under the sensors of the humans and thranx?

"Quite likely," replied Carmot. "However, until we know a great deal more
about it, I do not wish this thing trans?shipped to a nesting planet It is
an unknown quantity of awesome possibilities."

"Another feeling?" said Laccata.

"That as well. I am suspicious of anything that can survive on several
thousand cluvits of bare rock, on a planet on which nothing else lives, yet
clearly could support other life. I'm suspicious of anything organic that's
thinner in places than my claw?tips, yet can take the continuous
application of high?intensity beaming. Yes, another feeling,"

"Your imaginings begin to approach those you ascribe to your fifth?grade
assistants, Observer. Still, I see no reason to deny any of your requests.
I'll leave that to higher authority."

"I think that's very just of you, Exalted Captain. And very wise."



The Vom had restored facilities sufficient to assess the beings who had
happened upon it. The minds were simple, yet far from primitive. In its
weakened state the Vom doubted its ability to control even a single one of
the species, let alone the shipful. Now was the time to move, oh, so very
carefully!

P?a?t?i?e?n?c?e. It had waited half a million years now, give of take a few
millennia. It was aware of itself, and that gave it strength.

It could wait a few days more.



Russ Kingsley was in the mood for it.

And when Russ Kingsley was in the mood for it, he usually made out quite
well. First oft he was almost classically handsome. He knew he was. It said
so on his guarantee from the cosmeticians. They'd done an excellent job. It
was one that few folk could afford. Kingsley's father, who was one of the
five richest men on Repler, had given Russ the new face for his eighteenth
birthday.

He was satisfied with his present 180 cms, although he wished the surgeons
could have added another 10 or so. Still, no need to be greedy. The face
was perfectly proportioned?inclined plane of a jaw, no?nonsense nose
sensuous thin lips, red hair with just the right amount of casual wave. He
cut an exotic figure in sea?green foxfire fur vest over matching turquoise
silks. His appearance was as good as money could buy. As good, he
reflected, as any tridee star.

Honed in Repler's most exclusive gyms the body was muscular without running
to extremes. Though his appetite for gourmet meals kept the physiological
techs at constant war with an incipient pot.

A pity they hadn't been able to do anything with his personality.

At the moment he was lolling in the main debarkation lounge of Replerport,
eyeing the recent off?planet arrivals. A ventilator pulled the smoke from
the Jimson Kelp in his pipe roofward.

Kingsley was a chap who liked variety. He'd already gone through most of
the country beauties in Repler City. Some willingly, when his looks and
money served; some unwillingly, where his father's name served.

The back?country types held little attraction for him. Too much trouble
attendant to bouncing from small town to small town. And the food! Ghastly!
Besides, the backwoodsmen were too remote to be impressed by the Kingsley
name. They were apt to shoot despite thundering threats of retribution.

The passengers off the first ship had been disappointing. Thus far, the
second hadn't provided anything better, with the possible exception of that
blonde stew. Well, better than nothing. He felt in his jacket pocket to
make sure the slip of paper with the number on it was still there.

A flash of color near the end of the first?class line caught his eye. He
straightened, smiling. Well now, this was more like it!

The girl had paused at the gate to talk to the debarkation officer. That's
why he hadn't spotted her till now. An off?planet citizen, obviously. Even
better.

She was dressed in a bright yellow jumpsuit that clung to her like lemon
icing. A simple band of some silvery metal on one wrist was the only
jewelry. Not that a ring would have made a difference to Kingsley, but he
preferred things simple to complex. A dun?colored bag was fabricatched to
her right thigh. Jet?black hair was gathered together by a yellow band. It
fell in a single thick braid to just above her waist where it was held in
place by another band and knotted. Kingsley pursed his lips disapprovingly.
Minoan had gone out months ago.

Eyes deep blue complexion deep tan, little makeup. The eyes were sharply
slanted, cheekbones high and prominent. At lease half chinee or mongolian
ancestry, he thought. What he could see of the body was exquisitely
proportioned, if not voluptuous. It deviated from the perpendicular in all
the appropriate places.

The only thing that made him a little uncomfortable was that she appeared
to stand a good five centimeters taller than he. He left the counter and
moved to intercept her as she headed for the public transport park.

Subtlety was not Kingsley's forte. He grinned his best grin, every bicuspid
and molar perfect (he had guarantees for that, too), and said, "Hello,
stranger!"

The gaze she offered in return was faintly amused, otherwise noncommittal.

"Hello yourself, native." The voice was a husky soprano, with just a trace
of terran accent.

Better and better! Everyone knew about terran girls, didn't they?

"Russell Kingsley, but you can call me Russ. Can I give you a lift? My
rates are reasonable."

"Kitten Kai?sung. Sure. Are you passing anywhere near the ..." she paused,
"the Green Island Hostelry?"

"Green Island." (Not filthy rich, but well?off?not that it mattered much.)
"I am now. Got any luggage?"

"It's being delivered."

"Well, then. Come along!" He tried to put an arm across her shoulders. She
shrugged it off.

Uppity bitch, he thought. He'd change that quickly enough, as soon as he
got her back to the Tower.

His hoveraft was a Phaeton Mark IV, the latest. He was just a bit put off
when she didn't acknowledge the gleaming hunk of machinery. Not even a
little oooh! or mad Let her play it cool, then. He'd change that, too.

As soon as he was sure all doors were secure, he grinned the powerful
engine and blasted away from the station, scattering grit and sand over
several pedestrians.

The cloud cover was still fairly heavy, the air typically warm and damp.
Now and then a light mist would not so much fall as simply appear in the
air. Wood was utilized to a great extent on Repler, not only because the
planet was blessed with tremendous softwood jungles, but because wood had a
natural advantage over many metals. It wouldn't rust.

"You plan to be with us long?"

"Depends. My time is flexible."

"Business?"

"Very little. Vacation, mostly."

"Wise decision. Pleasure before business, I always say:" He made a hard
left and swung out of the downtown section, heading towards the harbor.

She didn't say anything for several minutes, hot did take a long look out
the back of the plastic bubble cabin. Getting a little worried, luv?

"The Tower's only an hour off," he said easily. "We've got our own island.
Not so extraordinary when you consider that Replay is mostly islands, with
very few open oceans; but Wetplace is unusual."

"Tower? Wetplace? We're supposed to be going to the Green Island Hostelry."

"Only theoretically, luv. Take my word for it, you'll prefer the Tower.
It's got some interesting extras that would startle the management of a
common tourist trap like the Green Island. Magnificent view from the top,
and the privacy can't be beat. Can't even be broken, in fact" He giggled
(that was one thing the cosmeticians hadn't been able to correct). "Oh,
everyone who visits the Tower enjoys it!"

"I'm sure," she said drily.

"Especially some of the interesting devices I've had installed in my own
quarters. Many of them custombuilt, you know."

"I can imagine." There was a pause. "You don't intend to turn around, I
take it?" she said finally.

He sniggered. "Not while I'm still vertical, sister!" He kicked over the
autopilot and reached out. Not voluptuous, no, but the breast that Oiled
his left hand was more than satisfying. Expecting at least a mild protest,
he was surprised (and a bit disappointed) when she continued to allow him
to fondle her.

"All right. That little island coming up on our left ... the one with the
climax vegetation."

"Clever, too," he grinned. Inwardly he was upset Sine needles and bugs! Oh
well, if she wanted to start that way...

"Your wish is my command." He drew away and swung the hovercraft in a tight
arc, slowing.

"Your snappy repartee stuns me," she said, but he chose to ignore the
sarcasm. Plenty of time to wipe that out.

He pulled into a small cove, dodging one floating log, and cut the engine
at the proper moment. The phaeton sank gently into the sand. lie released
the doors, letting her exit first no he could watch the tight suit tauten
over bar perfect backside as she stepped out. He followed.

Passing her, he unlocked a side storage compartment in the lee of the ship,
started to pull out a large package.

"I think you'll find that for an inflatable setup this is rather exotic,
including as it does a 

"Don't bother."

He paused in his unwrapping, looked up at her. She was grinning right back.

"I hope you'll understand, but while you're not bad looking, something
about obvious cosmetic jobs puts me off my tick. More importantly, initial
psycho?emotional analysis indicates mental discrepancies confluent with
your successive immature oeillades."

Huh?"

"To summarize, you don't turn me on, buster. And besides," she said as she
turned to re?enter the cab of the raft, "it's way past my check?in time."

"Just a second, pretty bitch. You know what this is?" All pretense at
politeness had been dropped. A small object sat in his palm. She glanced
down at it.

"It appears to be a Secun vibraknife, battery powered. Very efficient. It
will cut many metals, most plastics, but not ceramic alloy and ?a few other
things. Do I pass?" She was facing him now, hands on hips.

"Oh you are funny. But we'll change that. Since your face is not composed
of ceramic alloy, or `a few other things,' this toy is sufficient to make a
very unpretty mess of it. I'd rather do this nicely, but if you'd rather be
persuaded?

"Okay, okay. I was only kidding, luv! I'm convinced." She came towards him,
biting her lower lip uncertainly, and put both hands around his neck.
Trembling, her lips moved towards his.

Kingsley was puzzled. He couldn't remember lying down. That blueness above
him was unquestionably the sky, so he knew he was lying down. Yes, it was
very blue and had fluffy white clouds in it.

The back of his neck hurt.

He sat up and rubbed it. The Phaeton floated a few meters offshore. The
tall girl was leaning out of the cabin, staring back at him.

"Sorry, Mr. Kingsley! The tag next to the ignition here lists several
private comm numbers. I'll see that someone comes out to pick you up before
it gets too cold!"

Maybe he could make it to the craft before she could swing away. He got to
his feet and started a mad dash for the beach. He got four steps before an
excruciating twinge at the back of his neck crumpled him to the sand.

"Goddamn you!" he moaned. "What did you do to me?"

"Cooled your ardor!" she yelled back over the dull whine of the idling
fans. "Nothing permanent. Ask next time before you reach!" She closed the
door and pivoted the ship expertly, flinging small wavelets onto the beach.

He sat staring after her long after the hovercraft Led disappeared over the
horizon. Curses did equal time with moans.

His sea?green foxfire vest was full of sand.



"Miss Kitten Kai?sung?" The clerk tried hard to keep from goggling at her.
She nodded. The gangling adolescent was trying to shift his eyes from the
computerized registry to her face without lingering on any of the
intervening territory. He was failing miserably. Eighteen, maybe nineteen.
Only a few years younger than she. But the way he was staring at her you'd
drink he'd never seen .!

She sighed. She ought to be used to this by now. The smile she gave him was
seductive.

"And you say the room has a nice view?"

"Oh yes, ma'm! Best in the hotel! You can see most of the harbor. It's nice
here. You're away from the noise of the shuttleport and docks." He
hesitated, stared statue?like at the register. "Uh, if there's anything,
uh, you need, Miss Kai-sung ... ask for Roy. That's I. Me." He didn't have
enough room in the tiny clerk's cubby for an honest swagger, but he tried.

She reached out and touched the tip of his nose with a finger, dropping
list voice another octave.

"I shall keep that in mind ... Roy." She turned to leave.

"Oh, Miss Kai-sung!"

"Call me Kitten, Roy."

The youth grew ten centimeters. Hate yourself, hussy, half of her thought!
Love it. came the other half's reply!

"There's someone been waiting up for you in your room. He has diplomatic
credentials, so I couldn't keep him out. Says he's an old friend. He's not
human."

"That's all right. I'm expecting him. His name's Porsupah, isn't it?"

"Yes," the boy said in surprise. "You know him, then?" "I've been his
mistress for five years. Those Tolians ... She rolled her eyes as the door
to the lift closed, leaving a fish?eyed clerk below. Somehow she contained
her laughter. By eventide 90 percent of the hotel staff would know about
the "stranger" in room 36.

Her apartments were at the end of the hallway. She inserted her right thumb
into the small recess at the left of the room number. The door registered
her with the central computer and it slid back with the slightest hiss from
the pneumatic guide rail.

She had a small suite. It was tastefully decorated, just extravagant enough
to be in keeping with bar supposed income. A well?stuffed conversation
round was at one end of the greeting room, facing a broad ocean?view
window. The being perched on it was the only thing out of place in the
room.

That worthy stared back at her evenly. It ... he ... was just over a meter
and a third in height. He looked remarkably like an oversized, portly
raccoon. The major differences from the tiny tartan mammal consisted of six
long, dexterous fingers, more massive forearms, and a high, intelligent
brow. There was no mask, the ears were sharply pointed and proportionately
larger than the terran look?alike, and the rear feet were webbed.

It also possessed a biting tenor voice. This it used at her entrance, with
practiced effect.

"Where the conceptualized clam excretement have you BEEN?"

Kitten tossed her thighbag on a small table holding local magazines and a
vase of dampish green flowers.

"Conceptualized clam excretement ... I like that one, Pors. Your knowledge
of arcane invective is always stimulating." She walked across the room to
the bedroom portal and pecked in. "I see, wonder of wonders, that my
luggage arrived reasonably intact and together. Did you over tip the
bellhop again?"

"I was not here at the time they were deposited. Doubtless they were
transported by a mechanism."

"On this planet, in this metropolis? Don't bet on it" She began undoing the
long braid. "This place has all the feel of a world that could still make a
profit on slave labor. Oh, stop trying to burn holes in me! I was late
because one of the local playboys, convinced of his masculine
irresistibility, attempted to abduct me. He bad visions of performing odd
things on my precious body" The last gold band slid off and she shook her
head, generating an obsidian waterfall at her back.

Porsupah said nothing, continued to stare at her. She reached over suddenly
and tickled his nose. "Now, wouldn't that have upset you?"

Porsupah sneezed, attempted to slap her hand, but she drew back too
quickly. "I begin to think not." She moved close again and tried to cuddle,
stroking the far on his spill.

Lieutenant Porsupah was tolerant, but being regarded as cuddlesome was one
thing he couldn't quite put up with

"Have you no shame, woman! We're not even of the same species!"

She rallied his fur again. "You'd have a hard time, by now, convincing the
hotel staff of that. Besides, you're as mammalian as I "

Ho couldn't help a slight smile. "Not by several points."

"Anyhow," she whispered huskily, "we could manage a little something, you
know . .

Porsupah gave a loud screech and scrambled behind the circular couch.
"Kai?sung, you are irrevocably, utterly, spiritually indecent!"

"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in four days."

The Tolian recited several rapid and extremely potent native curses under
his breath before he tried again.

"Major Orvenalix had to cancel a scheduled meeting between the three of us
and Governor Washburn. At last word he was waiting in his office, steaming
at the joints. I strongly suggest haste to arrange yourself properly so
that we may be off before he sends the local constabulary to fetch us!"

"Oh, pooh!" She tumbled off the couch, thumbed a drink from the portabar.
"I can handle the Major. Want something?"

"As you are well aware, none of the effects alcohol has on the Tolian
system are in the least pleasurable. Fermented Ropus lymph, now?"

"Okay, have some of that, disgusting as it sounds."

"I will not imbibe when late for assignment"

"Foe. You're worse than impossible. And stop worrying about Orvy?Dorvy.
Wore old friends."

"That may well be. The Major has an eye for a well turned ovipositor.
However, if I may so delicately point out, you are decidedly deficient in
that area, however well compensated you may be in others. And I want to
hear you call hum `Orvy?Dorvy'."

"Thanks ... I think" She sipped the pink and yellow liquid the machine had
prepared. "Still, there's a way of caressing the soft spot where thorax and
b?thorax meet that?

"Aghhhh!" The Tolian covered his eyes. "Disgusting, obscene, profane! No
morals. No morality at all! If it were possible you would consider
intercourse with a rock!"

"All right, all right, calm down! Listen, Pots, I've seen you with a few
under your pouch, you sly tail?tickler, and you?"

"No more! Desist! Cease!" '

"And stop throwing your fuzzy carcass all over the furniture or you'll
build up a charge that'll shock the first diplomat you shake hands with two
meters sunward! If you insist on throwing a fit, throw a stationary one."

Porsupah tried a new tack. He ignored her while he rehearsed the
explanation he would have to present to the Major. Ideas did not come
rapidly to mind.

He was finally making some progress when his thoughts were scattered by a
shrill, protesting voice from the nether depths of tire bathroom.

"And I do so have morals!"



Outwardly a quiet, intense person, Major Orvenalix, the commander of
Repler's tiny military force, was capable of violent displays, of emotion.
These he kept private. It wouldn't do for the members of Repler's governing
council to know to what extremes their stubbornness could push him. They
also did not know that the peaceful commandant held an equal and much more
impressive rank in tire intelligence arm of the United Church.

Repler warranted an intelligence operative of Orvenalix's stature because
of the AAnn Imperial Enclave, several hundred kilometers to the south
across open seas. The Enclave was the vestigial remnant of early
altercations between the Commonwealth and the Empire over planetary claims.
The AAnn hadn't really wanted Repler, but it was a matter of self?respect
that they dispute all territorial claims by other races.

Johaun Repler's claim eventually proved the strongest. The AAnn demanded,
however; and were granted sovereignty over, a small area south of the
eventual capital. This was done to speed colonization and to promote a
harmonious settlement. Actually, the Commonwealth had argued against the
idea, the Church had been noncommittal, and the humans and thranx already
settled positively blase. After all, the great majority of the planet was
unexplored, and the AAnn could probably have established a secret station
anyway. Why not be generous and give them one?

When the AAnn found out that they wouldn't be allowed to use the interspace
facilities at Repler City and that the largest island in their Enclave was
insufficiently bedrocked to support a shuttle station of any size, they
almost gave up the Enclave idea in disgust. But to refuse after having won
the concession would have been twice as bad. It would have made the AAnn
diplomats who had arranged tire treaty look ridiculous. This would be fatal
to certain parties. Those same parties made sure that an elaborate facility
was constructed on the main land mass. At least the oceanologists, a group
that most AAnn considered congenital idiots, were happy. The AAnn home
world and most of its colonies were desert?type planets. Those assigned to
the Realer station were, with tire exception of the scientists, very
unhappy reptiles.

Major Orvenalix sat in his thimble?shaped chair and stared across at Kitten
and Porsupah. At the moment the Major was employing his mid?pair of limbs
as a second set of hands. In imitation of a human habit, the thranx was
tapping all four sets of claws on the table in front of him. The twelve
digits made a considerable racket.

The Major was about average height for a mature male threes, standing about
midway between Kitten's and Porsupah's. His thorax was unusually broad and
powerful. The black and silver harness reflected his occupation rather than
personal tastes, which were less conservative. Also the result of his
occupation was a premature purpling of the chiton, although his antennae
were straight and strong. And the great compound eyes sparkled as brightly
as those of any youth.

The tapping stopped. The resultant silence was louder. Orvenalix spoke
quietly.

"Well! The magnificent, munificent Lieutenant Kai?sung has deigned to grace
Operations with her presence!" The Major bowed ironically. That is, he
inclined his head and b?thorax. Encased in bodies of unyielding armor, no
thranx could manage a really smooth bow.

"Bum it, Orvy!"

"You will address me as becomes my rank, Lieutenant!" he roared, smacking
the table hard with one truhand.

"Yes sir," she replied in mock?military tones. "Major ... Orvy.

YOU WILL !" Orvenalix sighed and relaxed in his seat. "Never mind. I can
see you haven't changed one micron."

"You're the second person today who's said that. Seriously, sir, what
exactly is the situation? I haven't seen you in over a year, but when you
were lecturing at the Academy you were nowhere near this tense. You can't
tell me a year's hitch on a backwater planet has gotten to you that much!"

"You leave out many ramifications of which you remain uninformed, Kitten.
However, before we go into my problems, consider this. You were ordered
here for an assignment which required that you remain mildly active and
controversial. Mildly. A moderately wealthy young lady, independent,
spoiled, and apt to stick her nose into anything hinting of new thrills.
Here to enjoy the delightful sun, fun, boating, fishing, and cheap
souvenirs of exotic Repler."

"You sound like a travel brochure, Major."

"In my public capacity such banalities are occasionally called for. My
nest?mother would be ashamed, but fortunately Eurmet is many parsecs away
.. .

"Instead of making a nice, smooth arrival, you forthwith take off, in full
sight of a busy shuttleport crowd, with the most notorious, spoiled young
human this backwater capital has to offer. He may not be in the same class
with his counterparts on Armela, Trix, or Perth, but around here he is
noticed. You next turn tip at the family estate?lodge in the most exclusive
section of the capital and turn over the keys of this young man's expensive
hovercaft to the chap's valet? his talkative valet. You order a public
transule and take leave of this bemused servitor, off?handedly mentioning
that his master may be found languishing by his lonesome on an island at
such and such coordinates. Whereupon you return to the city and breeze into
your hotel, blissfully certain, I suppose, that you have performed all this
while leaving the general population in total ignorance."

Kitten appeared genuinely contrite. "I apologize, sir. How would I know the
valet would spread it alt over town? I didn't even realize who he was until
the conversation had passed the point of no return. I'd planned to slip the
keys under the door with a note explaining that .

Site broke off. Orvenalix shook his head in disgust. "It all would have
been so much simpler? not to mention better for your cover? if you'd merely
gone along with the gentleman, performed the simple act of non-reproductive
copulation with him, and allowed him to escort you back to the hotel."

"It is stated categorically," said Kitten, "that the Egg which gorges
itself too early will deny its offspring."

"You are being impertinent, but if he was that bad ... You always were up
on your Saduriquil, soft?angles."

"Why Orvy! You still remember my pet name! Now that you've gotten all that
off your thorax, why not relax and tell us why we've been pulled off our
post?graduate work and plunked down here in the midst of savage Pisces and
piscean savages?"

"The good Governor would net care?for?that?tone," Orvenalix grinned.

"Say, how did you know I was doing post?grad work?" yelped Porsupah.

"I picked your pocket back at the hotel. Before I went in to change. Your
school relief notice was in there, along with relevant material. Hardly
consistent with your cover, Pots! Tch!"

"Not only morals!" said the seething Tolian. "No scruples, either!"

"That's an insult! I put the wallet back, didn't I?"

There was a long silence. Finally, unable, to stand the suspense, Porsupah
put a paw into the pouch under his belt to make sure ....

Otvenalix put a truhand over his mouth to cover the slight fluttering of
mandibles that signified laughter among the thranx.

"All right," The intelligence officer said. "let us ob serve. Repler is
backward in many ways, sure. It has a limited population, true. Hut its
shuttle and spacecom facilities are modern and well?manned ?very true.
Major industries are tourism and exotic woods, but the main income is
derived from Repler City's use as a busy transfer point for interstellar
shipping. It's the only habitable planet between Fluva and Praxiteles as
you drive down the Arm. And it's still fairly dose to the center-ward
systems.

A good place to trade around," agreed Porsupah.

'While also avoiding major tariffs on planets of destination. True. Nothing
like the business Terra, Hivehom, or Drallar do, of course. But the
merchants here make a good living, and business is growing steadily if not
spectacularly."

"I've read the manual," Kitten said drily.

"Fine! Good!" Orvenalix reached into a drawer and removed a small vial of
glass ... no, quartz ... with a pressure lock twice as big as the
container, and a small bit of black board. Kitten and Porsupah slid their
chairs closer.

Orvenalix keyed the lock and sprinkled, very carefully, a few grains of
white crystal onto the board.

"Since you've both, presumably, `read the manual,' perhaps you can tell me
what this is?" Both junior officers leaned forward.

The Tolian sniffed once, gently. "Odorless. Clear, rhombehedric crystals
with a glassy luster." The Tolian crushed one of the largest pieces to
powder in a sharp, trimmed claw. He sniffed again, careful not to inhale
the dust. "Concoidal fracture, no odor released on pulverizing ... yes, I
think I know what it is, Major." He turned and looked at Kitten. "The lines
of fracture turn blue, they turn blue."

Her eyes widened, and she couldn't help but whisper when she spoke to
Orvenalix. "Bloodhype. Very high grade, too, if the fracture line turns
that dark."

The antennae dipped slightly. "Almost pure. Also known as faster, brain?up,
phinto, silly?salt, and many other names the mere mention of which are
sufficient to inspire thoughts of regurgitation among intelligent, feeling
beings."

"I thought I read that the Hyperion forests on Annubis were sterilized and
wiped out ten years ago," Kitten said.

"As indeed they were," the intelligence officer continued. "Naturally, that
was the first place the Service checked. We found nothing to indicate that
any of the plants had survived the holocaust. At that time it was believed
that the Hyperion plant could grow only on Arbutus. Transplanting was
attempted for scientific purposes, but the seedlings and mature plants died
rapidly as soon as they were removed from the planet. Fertilized seeds
likewise transshipped did not sprout. In wiping out the supply it turned
out that the species had been effectively exterminated for all purposes!"

"I wouldn't imagine anyone raising a fuss over that," said Porsupah.

"Other than a few masochistic botanists, no one did."

"It seems, though, that someone, somewhere, has gotten hold of some seeds
and found a way to make them sprout, and worse, reproduce."

"What sort of ... of creature, would want to restart the traffic in
bloodhype?" said Kitten, shuddering.

"Soft?angles, I remember you to be a brilliant student. Someday I hope you
will make an even better agent, but in many ways you are still an immature
grub. The galaxy contains a high volume of pure loathsomeness. Of which I
have seen far more than is good for one's sleep. There are plenty of beings
nominally labeled 'intelligent' who would sell their own eggs, and worse,
for a few credits. The thing here that makes me marvel is not the
perpetrators, but their science.

"I don't have to tell you what bloodhype addiction does. These new users
display the same symptoms and reactions as those of over a decade ago.
Which means that this new strain is at (cast as powerful as the original.
It affects any living creature with a complex neural system and circulating
liquid in its body. 'This includes every known intelligence, with the
exception of a few silicon based primitives on restricted planets. Direct
injection is the most common method of application, but inhaling the drug
in sufficient quantities is also effective.

"Concentrating on the neurons, the drug produces an extremely pleasurable
sensation. The thing about bloodhype is that most drugs work only on the
mind, by distorting and affecting the images it creates and the information
it receives. Bloodhype, on the other hand, is more in the nature of direct
neural stimulation. In other words, instead of producing distortions in the
information? interpreter (the brain), the original information is distorted
right at the beginning, at the original nerve pickups in hands, feet,
liver? everywhere the blood can carry it. The effect has been described
many ways. One addict said it was like being the highest?pitched wire on a
stringed instrument. It's many, many times more powerful than anything that
works just on the mind acting as it does directly on the nerve cells rather
than the brain. A moderate dose produces a 'fire?fit', an intense burning
sensation that seems to add to the overall pleasure.

"Withdrawal symptoms commence anywhere from 60hh or 72 t?standard hours
after the last injection. Coordination begins to go, accompanied by a
speed?up in involuntary muscular reactions. Breathing can speed up or slow,
as can the heart and other self?regulating muscles. The senses are badly
confused and feed false reports to the brain, which is itself undergoing
severe emotional changes, from depression to exaltation and so forth. The
body goes downhill like an unhatched egg with in sufficient yolk. It's
possible to be in excellent physical shape and be dying?until the final
moment, when every thing seems to jump on you at once.

"You go slowly insane, aware of what's taking place all the time. 'Dying by
inches,' I believe a terran author called something far less extreme. The
only way an addict can survive, once hooked, is if the medics can get to
him fast. A lot of very complicated and expensive equipment supports the
being's nervous system until the drug has burned itself out. Very painful
and not always successful. If the brain itself has been too badly damaged,
nothing can be done. In such cases, mercy killings are not unknown.

"If 120hh or 144 t?standard hours have passed, there is a ninety?eight and
something percent chance of an excruciatingly painful death occurring. In
such cases even the best of medical treatment is useless. There is, of
course, nothing like a simple antidote."

"And the shipments are coming through Repler?" said Kitten.

"It is thought to be so. We intercepted one, just one, by accident. No
persons were taken. The best evidence we have is that every planet where
new addicts have appeared was visited shortly before by a vessel that
stopped to change or exchange cargo on Repler. There ate a few suspects
here, whom we're being very careful not to warn?off. And this is not the
only planet that's being carefully checked cut. But at this stage it seems
like Repler is the best of several thin possibilities?Everything about the
operation suggests professional planning with plenty of brains behind it.
There's a lot of experience behind this setup."

"I don't wish to minimize out abilities, sir" interrupted Kitten, "but if
all this is true, wiry send for two fairly inexperienced agent?students
instead of a hundred pros?"

"One, your very inexperience is your best asset. You will be equally
unknown to the runners. The one thing we fear more than anything else is
that they might become aware that we suspect their operations here. And
with something of this magnitude running smoothly, it's a likely bet that
the pros handling things would stay quiet and shut down until they could
shift their base elsewhere. We don't want to start over again somewhere a
hundred parsecs down the Arm. We might not be fortunate enough to intercept
another shipment. Arid the traffic hasn't assumed the proportions ... yet
... where an investment of that kind would justify the risk. A large sweep
would be likely to catch up a lot of the small fry. The moguls usually
manage to slip away and start raising hell somewhere else. You two stand a
chance of cutting through a lot of opaque membrane and latching onto them
before they have a chance to get suspicious. At least, that's the theory.
If you're caught, the worst that can happen is we lose two agents."

"You frame things so delicately," murmured Porsupah.

"The covers we've prepared for you don't require a lot of effort to
maintain. Barring," he said, staring hard at Kitten, "unforseen
complications! Lieutenant Porsupah is listed as a wealthy tree?farmer's
nephew from Tolus Prime. Your covers provide you with a number of common
interests. A shared interest in mildly dangerous sports, for one thing. It
means you have reasons for wanting to jet all over the place? and
incidentally, for carrying sidearms. Sport pistols. Licenses will be issued
to the both of you on your way out. Your `sporting weapons' each pack a
much greater wallop than their appearance will suggest. So for Hive's sake,
be circumspect with them? Look around, take your time, and honestly try to
have fun. I don't believe is miracles, but `erecting the proper
superstructure facilitates acquiring interior trappings.' "

"Mathewson, twenty?third edict, section four," said Kitten.

"`Accidents and miracles will happen if you can find the proper place in
space'; yes, you're right, my door," replied Orvenalix. "I never knew
theology interested you."

"Only the juicy parts. For example ..."

Porsupah elected to chew the upholstery.



Malcolm Hammurabi was counting his money. The awkward fact drat he didn't
have it yet failed to interrupt fire pleasure he took in the mathematics.

It had been the kind of trip that ship?masters drink over: no muss, no
fuss, and plenty of profits. Even tire drive bad bees trouble?free. Who'd
have thought that those attenuated seals on Largess would be crazy for
imported alva? let alone Replerian alva. Granted, though, the stuff was
tasty enough. Even if Rodriguez wouldn't program the stuff for the galley.
Mals share of the profits would be, well, healthy. Might even be enough to
refinish that verdammt upper right quarter of the Umbra's KK drive
projector screen. Not that it was an essential job ... not yet. But it
would boost her favorable energy conversion ratio by a good thirty percent.
That would convert to a savings of, oh, so and so much in ignition
radioactives. Not to mention reducing wear and increasing efficiency in the
engine systems.

He'd been told, often, that his habit of making a personal, solitary survey
of ship's cargo the night after it had been shuttled down was just a little
peculiar. The excuse be offered in return was that he wanted to be certain
of the cargo's proper alignment for redistribution, atc., etc., right up to
the moment of transfer.

In actuality, the fascination of standing alone with tons and tons of goods
from tire far roaches of the galaxy, piled high in rainbow?hued plastic and
metal containers, was one he had carried from childhood. Then he used to
wander through similar warehouses (which towered so much greater in his
childhood memories) and dream of the days he might visit planets with magic
names like Terra, Hivehom, Almaggee, Long Tunnel, Horseye and Entebbe.

He'd had little idea that one day he'd be transporting similar goods
himself. Too often the planets had proven dull and unattractive. But there
was enough spice in the life to make things interesting. (Besides, you
crazy hypocrite, you hated pro ball. Being the best goalie who ever
maintained parallax with a ball was hardly fit epitaph for a man.)

Anyhow, it was important that the luxury goods be easily accessible for
tomorrow, in case that old pirate Chatham and the others wanted an early
look.

A good percentage of the cases were emblazoned with the CK crest of arms,
customs stamps, impression of destination and planet of origin. A few were
consigned to small dealers on Rapier, some to members of the crew, and a
number were sealed in the crimson of the Commonwealth. There was even one
small aquamarine case of holy goods for the Church. Mostly biochemical and
oceanographic instrument parts, plus a few specimens of Largessian life.

Another section of the gigantic warehouse was filled with a massive
shipment headed of?planet. Idly, he wondered whod pulled off that job.

Old Chatham's success had been due in large part to his policy of hiring
free?lance cargo vessels or those of small companies to transport his
goods, rather than acquiring his own fleet. It was a risky way to do
business, circa be was entirely dependent on the will of men who were not
beholden to anyone. Cargos could disappear with sobering swiftness an short
or nonexistent notice. And a merchant or trader who operated in such
fashion built nothing in the way of transportation equity.

At the same time, the system offered unequaled flexibility without fear of
loss in manpower or chips. Some few men could make a success of the
arrangement, while those with a huge investment in ships and men might go
broke in spectacularly short periods of time. Chatham was one who'd spent a
lifetime mastering the first system.

The huge outgoing shipment sat there, its noble immobility staring back at
him. Maybe Scottsdale had landed the job. Or crazy Alapka N'jema. He'd
heard tumors that AI's ship, the Simba, had been operating this far out.
Although the last he'd seen of her she'd beau headed Centerward. There was
always the possibility that the merchant or merchants involved hadn't
contracted with anyone yet.

And the possibility that they had their own ship, idiot.

Still, it was an appealing thought. If the cargo were available and he
could sign it, maybe they'd give film an advance on estimated profit. That,
coupled with what he would make off the Largess expedition, eight to
provide enough to refinish the entire screen. Plus getting an ultrawave
booster for Hen, the Umbra's comm operator. Ben would give his left arm and
part of his soul for even a pre?war booster. For a new one from, say, GC,
his shouts of pleasure would be heard all the way to Alpha C.

The silver plastic of an especially bright casing caught his eye. He saw
himself reflected in the moulding and smiled, running the revised balance
for the ship over again ' in his mind.

Reflected in the plastic, Mal Hammurabi was a big man. Not particularly
tall, he was structured much like a number twelve symbo?speech printed
dictionary?unabridged. Or a collection of children's blocks, tossed
together in a haphazard rectangular shape and dipped in half?wet glue.
Sandy?brown hair was cut square in back and receded slightly from the high
forehead, which overshadowed deep?set amber eyes. The remainder of that
face was an insane collection of rough angles, juts and points. The only
honest curve in the whole assemblage was the thick walrus mustache which
drooped from beneath the nose. Combined with a rather remarkable build, the
ship?master looked like a surreal cross between a land?tank and a basset
bound.

Equally incongruous was the group of peppermint sticks which protruded from
the left pocket of his leather jacket. Hammurabi neither smoked nor
flashed. His I vices were confined to milder liquors such as ale, fine ones
like brandy, and sweets  not all of them peppermint, nor in stick form.

There was a lot of cargo; the lanes of crates and casings were long, high,
and shadowed. So he didn't notice the thieves until he was right on top of
them.

There were two, totally absorbed in rifling the contents of a yellow?orange
plastic case bound with metal strips. The container was the size and shape
of a coffin, which it wasn't. Mal would remember loading a stiff. Melted
plastic showed at one end where the seal had been burnt away.

Mal could have done several things. He might have taken another two steps
forward and inquired in his most sepulchral ship?master's tones as to the
object of the gentlemen's intrusion. He could have walked over and offered
casual, even flippant commentary. He could have slipped quietly away and
buzzed for the port police.

However, men who spend their lives riding the saddle of an artificial field
with the mass of a sun (a) know when men will and when they will not react
favorably to orders, (b) are aware that the derring?do of tri-dee heroes,
when attempted in real life, seduces suicide, and (c) do not ran for help.

So what Hammrlrabi did was gut his hundred and twenty?five kilos under a
crate not quite as big as himself and heave it in the direction of the two
preoccupied paracreds. Thin by way of vetting them off?balance.

Unfortunately, the ship?master once again misjudged his own strength. The
crate was intercepted by the skull of the nearest man, who had chosen that
moment to sense Hammurabi's presence and whirl, gun in hand. It was an
unequal contest, which the man lost. Bout crashed to the floor.

The other intruder made a dive for the dropped laser and reached it jest as
Mal landed on his bat's. The thief gained the weapon and lost his breath
simultaneously. He squirmed.

Mal got the arm with the vicious?looking little gun in a modified arm?bar,
one knee planted firmly at the shoulder joint. He raised the arm a little,
up and back. The man screamed shrilly and dropped the pistol.

Leaning carefully forward, Mal reached down and gathered in the gun. The
stock was still warm. Obviously it had been used recently. He hoped it had
only been used on the crate.

The thief was fifteen cms shorter and a good sixty kilos lighter than the
ship?master. He looked around wildly, as much as his awkward position
permitted, and moaned. Apparently he'd caught sight of his companion.
Mercifully, the box hid moat of the other, bur it didn't hide the large
pool of red that stained the ferroconcrete to one side. Mal noticed the
small man's glance.

"I didn't mean to be so messy with your friend. Nor fatal. But there ware
two of you and I like odds in my favor. Don't worry, I'll be much neater
with you." He placed the muzzle of the pistol behind the man's right ear.

"Now, you've got just thirty seconds to come up with a real good reason why
I shouldn't send you bustling after your partner ... spiritually speaking,
of course."

The man moaned again, his voice tight from the pain in his arm. "Go ahead!
You're going to kill me anyway!"

"Nonsense! Don't be any dumber than you are. If I wanted you dead I'd have
killed you, oh, minutes ago. I'd just as soon see you alive. I didn't mean
to pass your friend on to the supervision of the Church, either, but I'm
not fond of thieves. See, I was stolen myself once. No... tell you what.
You cheerfully tell me what you were hunting for?and don't tell me this was
a general expedition; you pulled that crate out of a hundred tons of
similar ones?that, and who sent you for it, and maybe I'll let you depart
rare instead of well?done." He pressed the pistol a little harder into the
man's neck. "I suspect you'll have enough trouble avoiding the attentions
of your employer, who will doubtless send you greetings when he finds out
how sadly you've bungled."

The thief said nothing.

"Or," Mal continued conversationally, increasing his pressure on the
spindly arm, "we could make this even more interesting and do it by pieces.
I think this arm would be a good place to start. Then, if I lower the power
on this toy and turn it in a little instead of down (he did so), I can
start on one side of your head and fry you slowly to the other, maybe
spiraling around. Sort of artistic like, you know?"

"All right!" the man screamed. "All right!" Mal let up slightly on the arm.
"Rose."

"What? Stop whimpering, man and speak up."

"Rose. He's the one sent me and Wladislaw."

"Dominic Rose? The dragger?"

The man nodded, slightly.

"How very interesting. You're working for an especially disgusting
employer, did you know that? What did the dyspeptic slug want with my
cargo?"

The man was gasping painfully. Mal let the arm drop and the thief
immediately clutched it protectively.

"There was something about a mixup in ship transfer. That's all I know,
God's truth!"

"Your piety rings as truthful as your kind intentions. This supposedly
misshipped shipment originated on Largess?"

"Yes. No. Maybe, I don't know. Believe me, I don't!"

"Stop whining. I'm not going to hit you. Yes. No. Maybe. I believe you. You
don't strike me as a policy maker."

"Let me go," the man begged. "Resell have me killed if I'm caught in the
capitol."

"Patience. I'm here and he's not. And if you don't stop stalling and tell
me what you were sent for, I will kill you!"

"We were supposed to find a small blue container, uncrested and umarked.
That's all the information I was given, I swear!"

Mal got off the thief's back. He moved back slowly, keeping the gun traaned
on the back of the man's neck.

"Okay, you've got thirty minutes to get wherever it is you'd best like to
get to. After that I give your description and my charges to Port
Authority. I'm finished with you. You'd better start thinking about Rose
and his delightful associates. But Repler's a pretty empty planet. With
luck you might..."

       But the man was already running full speed for the main entrance,
apparently uncaring of being seen by Port guards. His right arm swayed
limply at his side. Damn, Hammurabi, when will you learn to watch yourself!
If you'd broken the arm any worse the man might have fainted on you. Then
you'd be stuck trying to revive him before a patrol arrived.

He turned back to the vandalized crate. Except for the unpleasant problem
of disposing of the remaining body, things had been pretty much cleared up.
He was curious to know what a slimeworm like Rose might have transshipped
from a place as dull and straitlaced as Largess. Dull enough, obviously, to
cause him to send two mm to break into a government?owned warehouse and
crack a private shipment to find.

He had an uncomfortable moment as he bent to look into the opened casing.
Suppose the small puttered had pulled one on him and the crate was full of
nothing but small blue boxes? He could have saved the worry. There was only
one blue container in sight. As the man had described, it was unmarked and
small. About 10 cms by 20 by 20, with a slightly concave top. It was packed
solidly among other containers of myriad shapes, sizes, and colors. He
vaguely remembered the crate as being full of class?C luxury goods. A
diverse collection.

The small case was half out of its assigned spot, indicating that the
would?be thieves had discovered it just as he'd arrived. He entertained
brief thoughts of leaving it untouched. Mal had had occasional dealings
with Rose in the past. The old man had accrued a certain amount of power.
Although on a major planet he would have to strive to be noticed, on Repler
he could wield a definite amount of heft. He stayed just the right side of
legal, meaning he paid taxes.

Mal was a little surprised when the small box opened with the merest touch
of the laser. It might be a trick. One device many people used to protect
valuables was not to protect them at all but to give the impression of
their not being valuable. Once the initial cut was made, the plastic rolled
back easily enough. A sturdy case of some silvery metal was revealed
beneath. He lifted it out of its plastic casing and held it up to the dim
warehouse lighting. It was attractively engraved, although clearly
machine?cut. The decorative etchings cut into the metal were recognizably
Largessian. A modest thing, certainly. Hardly worth the expensive and
highly illegal efforts of two men to recover secretly.

There was a simple combination lock and snaplatch on the box. He could have
used the laser, but if it proved necessary to repair the box a simple break
would be easier to explain than a weltcm. The latch snapped on the third
tug, just as he was beginning to fear that it was stronger than it looked
and that he might have to use the pistol after all. The cover sprang back
to reveal ten bottles of a slightly greenish cast. Each bottle of cut
crystal was filled with a different colored powder. On the inside of the
box cover was a printed key, It located the bottles below and gave their
contents in thranx, terranglo, symbospeech, and formal largo:

These special spices have been carefully selected by the professional staff
of Sirial Foods, Inc., Lo add exotic and tasteful seasoning to any organic
vegetable dish with o cellulose content al at least 90%. Exceptions and/or
maximum recommended servings for .. .

There followed a comprehensive list of races and species, with specialized
information for each spice printed inside a small booklet resting on top of
the bottles. This went into detail on which being could consume what spice
and in what quantity, with effects varying from unappetizing and mildly
corrosive at worst to aphrodisiacal at best. The mufti?lingual instructions
indicated that the contents were marketed over a wide section of the
Commonwealth and perhaps even outside it. If the machined box was any
indication, the spices were a high volume item. But that didn't jibe with
its being shipped as a luxury good. Still, maybe the old man was primates
fat Largessian spices and wanted to insure their arrival.

He tasted the contents of the fist jar, after first consulting the book to
make sure it conceited nothing likely to take his feet off. The dark?maroon
granules had a sweet?sharp tang, an intriguing cross between ground black
pepper and white mint.

Mat considered what to do. Obviously be could sit and taste spice all
night. That led nowhere. One fling he was still curtain of: Neither of the
two men he'd surprised was a mad gourmet chef out for condiments, which
would be the case ff the green bottles contained nothing but apices. While
attractive, the metal case was clearly in no way valuable?although alloys
could be deceiving. Still, it was likely that whatever Rose was so
desperately concerned with was tied in with those spices. If there were
drugs present, he'd do well to atop tasting.

There was another possibility. The "key" might contain some sort of coded
message. Well, Rose could cry for that. Mat tucked the box under his arm.
He'd give the stuff to Japurovac and see what she could come up with.

He took a step to his left and several square meters of floor nearby
exploded in haze and superheated dust. He dove behind the nearest stack of
containers, rolled, and came up running. He dodged down canyons of mining
machinery, around monoliths of fresh fruit ziggurats of preserved fish. He
knew what had happened. Clearly, the two thieves hadn't been alone. The
sore?armed escapee had returned with friends. No wonder he'd been willing
to talk! Now he was out to see that his garrulity was rectified. Mal didn't
think he'd find the little man especially forgiving.

Pity you're such a peaceable chap, old man, or you'd be carrying a decent
gun of your own. Still, the laser he'd borrowed was nasty enough at close
range. He paused abruptly behind a far corner and waited. A dim figure came
tearing blindly around the bulky equipment, gun at the ready. Mal hastily
remembered to readjust the pistol for a killing beam, took careful aim, and
fired. The red light cut through the man at waist level as though he was a
cartoon drawing and continued past to sear a black spot on the plastic
cases behind him. The figure looked down at itself for several seconds,
dumbfounded, and pitched forward onto the ferroconcrete floor. Mal looked
at the tool in his hand with more respect. It was a good deal more powerful
than its size hinted at.

Two more figures poured around the corner. They spotted the body and
reversed their direction with admirable rapidity. They would move after him
much more cautiously now.

He ran again. Another pile of crates went up in crackling smoke far to his
left. He had them shooting at shadows now. Sooner or later, however,
someone would slip behind turn and fire at a shadow that wouldn't be so
insubstantial It was up to him to put that meeting off permanently, if
possible.

His knowledge of the floor plan of the great building was superficial at
best. Ship?masters didn't stoop to supervising storing procedure first hand
He knew that there should be several small personnel entrances spotted
around the enormous expanse of metal and plastic, however. Warehousing
permitted little flexibility in construction; they rarely varied except in
size from port to port. The same lack of variance also told him that none
of the personnel entrances would be left unlocked at night unless
operations were proceeding. It happened that tonight the nearest new cargo
was light?minutes off. He doubted that his pursuers would be so stupid as
to permit him to slip unnoticed out the main entrance.

Zig?zagging constantly, laser at the ready, he made his way unevenly to the
closest section of walk There was a door there, ell right. It was locked,
all tight.

He turned the laser to pencil thinness and began cutting around the
circular automatic lock. If nothing else, that ought to alert the port
police to the presence of intruders. Obviously the watchman had been taken
cafe of. There was the chance that this alarm was tied in to the one at the
main entrance, in which case it would have been rendered useless when the
thieves cut the main one. Not that the police would arrive in time to save
his own skin, whatever the sass.

It was slow work, damnably slow! The high?intensity pistol was built to cut
packing plastic and maybe people, both of which wets considerably softer
than bomb?proof plating. The metal glowed, began to drip lazily down the
side of the door. Much too slow. Tridee skate smashed in such doors with
the same ease that they dispatched assassins via clever verbiage. Hammurabi
was considerably stronger than any tridee star and valued the bones in his
shoulder. Doors were usually as unyielding as curtain women.

He wasn't going to cut through in time.

As a last resort, he would put the Pistol to the open case and threaten to
melt its inexplicably valuable contents to an aromatic puddle.

They continued to fire wildly and often, behind him. Maybe he'd gotten them
so confused that they thought he'd slipped behind them and had started
shooting at each other. That thought gave him enough respite to relax
slightly.

Three men appeared in the shadow of a towering processing tank, newly
arrived from Wolophon III. The lock was barely a quarter brunt through. He
pressed his back to the door and shoved the muzzle of the warm pistol into
the case, thumbing the beam to wide fan. The gun was hot from continuous
use.

The men came closer, stopped. One detached himself from the group and
walked up to Hammurabi.

"The locals won't like it if you go around burning holes in their
government?issue buildings, Cap'n, you shouldn't mind my saying so."

Hammurabi flicked the pistol to Safety, stuck it in his pants pocket.

"You're a fine First Mate, Maijib Takaharu, but how tire Devil did you
happen to come looking for me?"

Takaharu made a gesture to his two companions. They moved off silently
among tire stacked crates, presumably to insure that if any of the
intruders remained, they would not be in shape to offer argument.

The First Mate looked up from his full meter and No thirds. He carried a
slim Hornet?VI needle thrower.

"Why, don't you remember, Cap'n? Since that night four months ago on Form
III, when you put six of the local finest into the native version of a
hospital with assorted contusions, broken limbs and other souvenirs,
defamed the statue of a local hero, and otherwise did not endear yourself
to the local populace, you gave me a standard order to follow. The local
magistrate fined you?

"Don't remind me." Hammurabi winced. His rare drunks were difficult times
for him. He couldn't understand why the crew persisted in bragging about
them at every planetfall. It was getting so he couldn't walk into a bar
before the owner or tender called frantically for the cops. Doc Japurovac,
with fine insect logic (also, she was a little romantic), labeled them
heroic. Mal thought they were merely embarrassing.

"You told me that if you didn't check in with Ben or myself by midnight
local time, I was to grab a few of the boys and come hunting for you.
Knowing your habits, it wasn't hard to trace you, sir. Also, strangers find
you easy to remember. A number of them recalled seeing you enter the port
grounds."

"I think I'd have preferred to have gone bar?hopping, this time. One more
question, First."

"Sir?"

Hammurabi rubbed the side of his jaw where a flying splinter of molten
plastic had struck him. He held out the open spice case.

"What do you know about cooking, Maijib?"



Circuits were enclosed in metal which was embedded in ceramic which was
enclosed by the metal?that?was?not-cold which floated near something at the
edge of emptiness.

The Machine was old, but purpose was retained. For the first time in cons
it had cause to shift electrons with reason. The computer, which was so fat
in advance of what then were called computers that it deserved another name
(but we will call it computer), began making decisions as though today were
yesterday's yesterday. It was designed and equipped to handle only one
Problem. To that end it was capable of making several billions of
individual decisions in order to arrive at one solution.

None of them covered the present difficulties.

The Machine finally was able to revolve the multitude into Two Actions.
First, it began to follow the Problem, which was moving away, and it began
to search out a way to awaken the Guardian,

It was all a question of stimuli.



"Well, little Japurovac, what do you find?" Hammurabi asked the ship's
Pram; physician.

The diminutive female incectoid looked up at the Captain, her usually
pretty face a red moon nightmare. The ferocious aspect was caused by the
special goggles she wore. They included built?in analytical equipment and
sensors, not to mention special magnifying lenses for compound eyes. Japur
cocked her head to one side, curious.

"Tell me, dear Captain. If you are so keen to have these substances
analyzed, why do you not convey their to the customs offices in Rapier
City? The facilities there me far in advance of what I have to work with
here."

"I hope the answers you give rue show more insight than that question,
Doctor. You're too shrewd a got to miss something so obvious."

"I did talk to Takaharu, in fact, but I wanted some confirmation from you.
Keep your carapace on! I've done what you requested. Not at all surprised
someone tried to kill you for these bottles."

"Several someones. At least one man has died because of them already. Have
you really turned something up? Or are you just putting me off because you
couldn't find anything?"

Japurovac drew herself up to her full meter and a third, truhands and
hand?feet assuming a posture of mild outrage. Whether insult or flattery,
Japan was more susceptible than most to either.

"I shall choose to ignore that. Of course, if you don't wish the efforts of
my poor labor..."

"Okay, I give up. Don't get your ovipositors in an uproar. You know the
entire ship would go to pieces with out you."

She relaxed somewhat. "That's better. And watch the dirty language. I am a
lady, you know! Now, the analysis of the materials in question was simple
enough. The process of gravity separation was purely mechanical. To be
certain I reran the time?consuming procedure several times. I wanted to be
sure all questionable particles had been separated out. The reason for this
will be self defining when you see the results. Even so, I doubt that you
will honestly appreciate my efforts, but no matter."

Hammurabi looked ceilingward for solace. Why, Malcolm, do you inflict a
petulant, spoiled female physician on yourself and your ship? Why?

Because she's too damn good to get rid of, that's why.

The doctor continued. "There are measurable quantities of the drugs tween,
mithrah, pollus, felturney and felturney?B mixed in with the spices. Some
of the latter are quite tasty, I might add."

"I'm sure. What else?"

"There are also considerable amounts of two more potent narcotics, aelo and
mak, each in its own spice jar. On the current market they ought to bring
about 5000 credits."

"Those are both artificially produced drugs, aren't they?"

"Just so. To produce either in quantities pure enough to be useful or
deadly, depending an which end of the injector you're on, considerable
production facilities are required. Also a good deal of chemical know?how.
Why? What difference does it make which Hell they originate from?"

"It's just that I rather liked our seal friends on Largess. Honest,
friendly businessbeings, they seemed to me. They're not noted for their
skill as chemists. Of course, that doesn't rule out any of a hundred other
possibilities. They might have hired off?worlders to produce the stuff
locally, or may, just be serving as transfer agents. Go on."

"A jar full of very high grade heroin?for traditionalists, I suppose. And
scattered throughout several jars, I am mottled and shattered to say, a
probably priceless quantity of a foul substance that cannot be anything but
bloodhype."

That set Hammurabi back a bit. They'd all heard rumors that the jaster
traffic had been resumed. But to be confronted with the stuff in person! He
thought again of his friends among the seal?beings. They'd be equally
susceptible to the stuff. The fact that the drug operated on such a
tremendous range of sentients greatly enhanced its value, since it could be
marketed practically any place.

And he'd been selected to play delivery boy! He thought of The fellow who
would be expected to find the blue box err another ship and his frantic
efforts to locate it when he found it had been shipped to the wrong
freighter.

"You separated all of it out, then, Doc?"

Japurovac gave the thranx equivalent of a mild shrug. "As I said and with
extreme care. Lucky you didnt taste one of those bottles. And I wish you
would address me as `Ship?healer,' as is my right, and not as a `Doc'

"Sorry, D... Ship?healer. Didn't you know when you signed on that humans
are notorious for an addiction to nicknames and abbreviations?"

"Please, Captain. No talk of `addictions' now. My insides are queased
enough from handling this stuff, it is dangerously potent if taken orally,
and since my olfactory organs are located on any hand?feet extreme delicacy
in handling was required to insure safety. Injection works a lot faster,
but is no more deadly."

She turned and grasped a labeled, covered vial with a trounce, switched it
to the less delicate but stronger grip of a hand?foot. It contained a small
quantity of a plain white powder. A thousand kilos of poisonous projector
polish was less dangerous.

""That is all of it'?"

"Well, perhaps I have been too positive. However, after separating cut all
I could. I placed the metal box and the twelve crystal jars in the
sterilizer. The resultant slag was reduced to powder, remelted, and ejected
out of the gravitational field of the planet via courier drone. After which
I let the sterilizer bake itself for several hours, then sprayed the entire
dispensary with a disinfectant designed to break down any unsealed
organics. Cost me a good leather ncek?strap I forgot to seal too."

Hammurabi took the vial gingerly. I'll buy you a new one Japur. With
perfume striping."

The vial, Mal noticed, was quartzine, thick and solid. He held it up to the
brilliant surgical lighting and the creamy crystals within sparkled. If a
gram of the stuff was powdered and released into the ship's ventilating
system, everyone on board would be dead in a week. The unbreakable
permalloy silicon dioxide via'. was pressure sealed. it would take an
hour's soaking in strong acid to dissolve the bonding resins.

"You seem to be up on the value of these goodies Jaspur. What do you
!,press the value of this little jar at?"

"It's the business of a healer to know the cost of his tools and related
materials;" she said. She was intent on the interior of a half?filled
beaker. An aelo?vyacine combination, for example? can slow a thranx
heartbeat to near nothing without ill effects, and without the use of a
Dancer, or any other drugs. It makes open surgery practical to us, with our
open circulatory systems. Otherwise many would bleed to death rapidly. I
mention this by way of indicating relativity."

She looked back at him. "To me, that vial is worth nothing. To you,
nothing. To an addict anything short of his life. Any sentient in the
galaxy `took' on bloodhype would gladly trade you all his worldly
possessions, his offspring, his mate, parents, and all his limbs save the
minimum needed to inject the drug, in return for the hollow splinter of
glass you hold in your hand. `Ex pui restactt al phempt,"' she added in
pure High thranx.

"Pardon?" Hammurabi asked. His schooling had neglected the formal dialects
in favor of practical semantics.

"I couldst in my shell?of?shells vomit," the dainty healer replied. She
turned back to her examination of the beaker, added something from another.

The ship?master considered the vial a moment longer, then laid it gently on
the workbench. "I think maybe you ought to take charge of this, Japur.
Myself, I'm going to try and arrange a chat with a certain old man."



The AAna soldier approached the small group. It sheathed its claws and
bowed slightly in salute, tanning slightly to expose the jugular as a sign
of ?aspect.

Most Exalted Commander, the place for the monster is completed."

"Thank you, Engineer," the tallest of the three intoned.

Parquit RAM, Supreme Commander of His Imperial Majesty's Grand Territory
and Colony Station on Rooter, turned from his two Companions and made a
gesture of politeness in the direction the engineer had come from.

"My compliments, Engineer Sixth ... Waya SCXNMSS, I believe ...

"My ancestors arc honored at your remembrance, Excellency!"

"Convey to Engineer First Vynaar my personal congratulations on a complex
task efficiently done. The same to your associates. Even though," the
Commander spared a glance for his thumb chronometer, "they pared things
very close to our deadlines. Your speed will be mentioned in my official
log of this project I should hope to obtain more suitable compensation for
the entire engineering staff from Inperial Sector Headquarters."

"A thousand thousand days of sun on all your progeny, Excellence!" said the
engineer, bowing and turning every few steps.

Parquit gestured irritably at the younger nee. "And stop bowing so much!
You'll acquire a crick in your neck."

The junior engineer turned hurriedly and scooted out of sight.

"Now then, gentlemen my apologies for the interruption. Cannot MMYM be
known to Arris CDC, senior Xenobiologist First. Arris has been elevated to
the position of nominal head of our scientific station here, for the
duration of the project. We didn't bother with such plebeian formalities
before?on a world like this, the nye will barely tolerate normal
routine?but ever since Sectoreav have gotten their official tails in a
frenzy on this thing...

"Our First Psychostamin, Beirje, would have been a more appropriate
choice," said Arris jovially. "All that fresh meat strolling around in the
person of solitary hunters and tourists that the nye aren't allowed to
touch that inhibiting of their natural instincts, plus the amount of
sickening free water present on this planet?"

"Please, interrupted Carmot. "I know. One look from the shuttle coming in
was sufficient. I am not a strong nye. I confess to having become ill. I
extend sympathy to my colleague."

"A more apropos greeting you couldn't give," replied the xenobiologist. The
two scientists performed the AAnn ritual greeting, clasping each other's
throat with claws retracted.

"I know your reputation, CDC. I am honored to meet so venerable a
superior."

"What compliments you to me even more than your judicious and professional
flattery, Observer First, is the relief from boredom that your discovery
has brought to this Sector. I have never seen requests for supplies and
scientific personnel filled so rapidly! While I dislike being exiled to
this hell, I confess I'm enjoying the unusual cooperation from those
pause?thinkers at headquarters."

"Again, sympathy. How do you stand the dampness?"

"The machinery does its best. But you should sec some of the nye who are
forced to run outside patrol." Arris shuddered.

"It's a choice slice of purgatory, Observer," Arris added. "Yet I believe,
too, that your discovery may prove justification for the Corps false pride
in maintaining this station."

"Your pardon, gentlenye," Commander Parquit interrupted. "Since Engineering
has completed the last of the facilities, should we not hasten to observe
the transfer of the thing? It is due shortly."

"Surely, surely!" said the xenobiologist. He led the way down the half.

I might hope even that the efforts expended in this project might yield,
yea a small advantage to the Empire for the next conflict with the humans
underbeings."

"You anticipate war, then, Commander?" asked Carmot.

"One can anticipate without predicting. When the predictors feel it
worthwhile, we will engage again. Meanwhile we must curb ourselves. Each
must make his sacrifice. When I am required in the City, for example, I
find myself considering the well?fleshed human governor from a culinary
rather than diplomatic stance. Restraint is the marker of confidence."

"Well said," buffed Arils as they turned yet another corner.



For a time now the Vom had perceived atmosphere around itself. At least its
senses had improved to that point, however little. Otherwise it was aware
only of being suspended in a strong metallic container between two pulsing
energy sources. These it correctly interpreted as sources of motive power
for its "cage." The gravity field of tire planet beneath had been felt long
ago. The Vom was still terribly, terribly weak. Its awareness of that
weakness made it cautious.

For example, even though it had now regained enough strength to break free,
it did not long consider fire idea. It knew that it could spread its
organic envelope thin enough to float gently to the surface below, or
compact itself and drop to safety deep in rock.

Wait and observe, counseled one neural nexus. Pause and see, concurred a
thousand others.



Commander Parquit and the two scientists entered the hastily constructed
central control area. All observation and experiments to be performed on
the creature would be supervised from this room. The center was buried even
deeper than most of the AAnn station. A good nine or so fathoms beneath the
low?tide point, it rested in water a deep blue. Tridee after tridee gave
views of the interior of the special holding room, the halcyon surface, and
a respectable portion of gray sky. Just now the center was a hive of
frenzied activity. Technicians and mechanics predominated, making
last?minute inspections, wirings, installation, and equipment checks.
Engineers and an occasional scientist argued quietly over the performance
or placement of various bits of exposed instrumentation.

The xenobiologist gestured towards one of the larger screens. It displayed
a view of what seemed to be a large rectangular hole in the sea, surrounded
by pecces, the Replerian coral?equivalent. Most of the small reef was the
metal and plastic product of AAnn camouflage experts.

"The cage is located at the bottom of that shaft," Arris informed Correct.
"It rests at the same level as this control center and is actually only
verrs away, beyond this very wall. The paneling is undergoing final wiring,
so I can't pull them off the glass yet. When that is done we shall be able
to observe directly everything the creature does. Or that we do to the
creature. There will be no temperature or pressure difficulties, I am
assured. The sides of that `hole' are quite strong. They arc also easily
removed, as is the `reef.' The walls of the shaft will be towed away as
soon as the creature is safely ensconced in its new home. If the thing
accepts water as a barrier, it will be barred from the surface by a good
forty teverrs of ocean. And the restraining walls, of course.

"The most difficult problem was one that you and the spatial corps solved
for us. Whether or not we would be forced to maintain an artificial
atmosphere similar to the one of the planet from which the creature was
removed. Fortunately, the thing appears extremely adaptable;"

"Insofar as our very cursory testings indicated," Carmot reminded.

"True. A fortunate bit of luck for us, since our experimenters and handlers
will be able to operate without the bother of special equipment and
protective suits. Its sole requirement seems to be a certain minimal amount
of oxygen. From tests it appears that the creature can break down any of a
great number of substances and remove the required element. If nothing
else, it proves itself a remarkably efficient combustion engine."

"Perhaps a noteworthy fact already," said Parquit. "Ali, here they come
now." He indicated a smaller console screen, and the two scientists moved
closer for a better look.

Three rapidly moving blips, set close together, showed on the screen. As
they descended further, they gradually resolved into two Aphon shuttles
sandwiched around a massive, featureless ellipsoid.

Compliments to the Emperor's pilots, Commander," said Carmot honestly.
"Some remarkable maneuvering, there.

"Proper balancing of forces for such a task, on descent ... yes very well
managed," said Parquit, adding, "I'm certain Sectorcav supplied the best
nye available."

"I can guess the need for such a complex arrangement," said Cannot.

Parquit spoke without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Yes. There are no shuttles this side of the Homeworld capable of handling
that much bulk. Not only would it take too long to transfer one, but the
hum... would be certain to inquire into the need for shuttles of that size.
Aphon?class occasionally operate out of the capitol. We manage things too
openly for my taste as it is."

The two shuttles slowed and maneuvered from side to side; a little lower
and they were positioned directly over the shaft. A lift pressor at the
bottom of the shaft gently locked in and the two shuttles released their
hold. A tricky operation. The idea was that the two shuttles would release
their hold at the same moment the main pressor took over. Unless timing and
power were precisely matched, a catastrophic misalignment of forces could
occur.

The two shuttles pulled away, one to the left, one right, and boosted
heavenward to rejoin the mother ship somewhere in orbit. If the timing had
been exact all around, none of the operation should have been observable
from Repler City's beacons hundreds of kilometers to the north.

Not that the humanx could do anything about it even if they were to detect
the movements. The AAnn rights were unassailable where practically
everything was concerned. But it was better not to have nosy bureaucrats
poking around until many answers had been obtained. So the only humans
within detector range were a Few improperly equipped hunters and fishers.

Gently, Engineering lowered the massive container to the bottom of the
shaft. A basso grinding from the big room heralded touchdown. Relays
snapped and sliding panels formed a new, permanent roof to the great cage.
Outside, automatic work?tugs set about the task of dismantling the
camouflaged shaft. Parquit did not permit himself to relax until all four
panels of the structure and the accompanying artificial reef had been
removed and stored. An unbroken sea flowed over the now?sealed subterranean
structure. He smoothed his tail absently.

"Over and done and buried. So. Now the besotten freefliers may flit
overhead to their heart's content!"

"The structure, then, is completely invisible from the air?" asked Carmot.

"Like the rest of our undersea facilities, tire containment area appears as
normal seabottom when viewed from a height, complete with Pecces and an
artificial piscean breeding ground." The Commander leaned over the railing
of the upper observation ramp and yelled into the big room.
"Communications!"

From within a maze of screens and dials a slim technic looked up alertly.

"Radar and major report all negative, Commander."

"Good!" He fumed back to the two scientists. ' It only remains to release
the creature from its life?support container. Then, Arris, you and your
eager subordinates may proceed with the first of your experiments.' He
tamed to Currant and began easily. "As a military man, I am of course
particularly interested to see far myself proof of your claims as to the
thing's ability to resist powerful laser and other heat . . .



Within the shell the Vom tested quietly. It allowed its perceptions to roam
freely through the thick metal and plastine and ferroconcrete walls. Still
unbearably weak, it could nonetheless differentiate between the atmosphere
within rte container and that outside a yet larger cell. There the
atmosphere became liquid. It was pleasingly high in oxygen content and
well?mixed with hydrogen. A short distance above this area the atmosphere
turned gaseous once again. An ocean of sea, then.

The Vom detected a host of small intelligences performing typical
heat?generating tasks in the liquid around it. Others lay dormant and
unmoving. Extending further, it made a tremendous discovery. This liquid
atmosphere was violently alive with organisms! The sheer bulk staggered the
Vom. It had been so long since lifeforce had been present nearby in any
quantity that the Vom was stunned by the sheer fertility. True, the
intelligence of all was low, low, carrying a proportionately smaller amount
of life?energy. The volume, however, would come near to making up for that.
There was no question as to pure numbers.

For one moment the Vom bravely extended its perceptions to the utmost. At
the furthest limit of its terribly fatigued senses was at least one,
possibly two large concentrations of high?quality life?force.

The Vom debated. It was stiff difficult to think clearly. How much longer
could it wait before a real feeding was necessary to insure expansion? In
order to energize the higher functions, it was life?energy and sot bulk
protein that was needed. Especially intelligent life?energy.

A small number of AAnn technicians Boated in little work?care above the
metal ellipsoid, equipped with strip saws. They positioned themselves
preparatory to cutting the shell from the creature. From there it was
presumed tire being would move about on its own to relax an the cell. There
was no reason to think it would behave otherwise.

The Vom considered.

It was hungry now.

Tortured metal screamed. The ellipsoid tore like paper in halt a dozen, two
dozen places. Long pseudopods black as the Pit extended from fire cracks
and snatched the scooter?mounted techs like a frog catching flies. A few
barely had enough time to scream. Metal and me alike were absorbed into
that black ichor. The Vom flowed out rapidly in all directions, examining
every section of the vault.

Two biologists who had been taking notes nearby the single massive door
turned and ran far their souls. They barely beat that flowing black hell.
It slammed up against the water?tight barrier like a wave of ink seconds
after they'd slipped through to safety. Sensing intelligent construct, the
Vom began to analyze the barrier separating it from its food. A moderately
complex duralloy construct, the metals yielded to rapid identification.
Their tolerances were judged, gauged. A small section of the Vom began to
produce heat, focused it on the door.

The duralloy tamed red?hot, then white?hot. It began to flow like soapy
water.

Parquit reacted first. The mental blast that had been the Voms first
free?emoting thought?that of a cosmic hunger?bad momentarily paralyzed
everyone. "Close all doors in that tubeway access! Also all doors in
sections six, seven and nine!"

Suddenly the room was a frenzy of activity. Parquit's commands galvanized
the technicians into action.

The first doorway melted through, giving access to the first section of
tubeway. The ravenous intelligence consumed the envelopes and life?energy
of two more nye. The two scientists had narrowly made, the tube before the
first door slammed shut behind them. They hadn't made the second ahead of
Parquit's orders. The life energy the Vom received, however, was less than
it might have been, since the minute the monster had breached the first
door and flowed for them, one biologist shot his companion and then turned
the little needle?ray on himself. They perished differently from the
scooter?techs in that they didn't have time to scream.

Parquit strode up and down the railing, bawling orders at every section.

"Power nexus!" he roared.

Engineer?Physicist Pyorn looked up helplessly from his control desk.
"Commander! Consider, the final linkage has never been tested! The possible
effects remain theoretical at this point and?"

Parquit looked hard at the Engineer. "To the Dead Star with your linkages,
nye! A good time to test them, vya?nar? And if your effects prove
theoretical, our deaths will not. Full power! And hold!"

"Exalted commands," Pyorn muttered faintly. He broke back two plated
switches, one yellow, the other brown. Pressing both in sequence, he
uttered a quiet prayer to the dust demons to hold the newly installed
systematization together.

The Vom recoiled in terrible pain. The entire vault, excepting a large
section of the center flooring, had suddenly and unexpectedly come alive
with several million volts. The access tunnel was similarly charged. In its
weakened condition, the powerful overload was more than its unprepared
cells could distribute. It shrank back on itself towards the one section of
the vault that was uncharged. All movement was agony. Misjudged,
misjudgment! it cried. One by one centers shut down to avoid being burned
out forever. Those which tried to distribute the charge had some success
before failing. Those on the organic periphery went first.

Unfortunately, very unfortunately, it did not quite die.



"Full off, back down slowly," Parquit ordered after several minutes had
elapsed. The Vain had long since ceased all movement of any kind, but the
Commander was not about to be undercautious. Obediently, Pyorn closed down
the system. The Engineer examined dials and meters intently.`

"All sections holding, Commander." There was a hint of pride in the voice,
which Parquit, under the circumstances, did not reprimand.

"Compliments, he said curtly. To the two scientists, "Follow me, please,
sanderings." They descended to the floor of the great control center.
Parquit singled out an elderly AAnn seated alone amid thousands of tiny
glass cages with captive dials.

"Well, Amostom, is it ruled a final dueling?"

"I cannot say yet, Commander. According to life?support monitor ..." he
gestured at the meters and such, " ... the thing still lives.

"Impossible," Arris said quietly.

"Strange words to come from a xenobiologist," replied the Commander.

"Exalted, there isn't a living creature that can take half the voltage that
was poured into that vault for more than a few milliseconds. Even then, the
aquatic being in question has all its higher neurological functions
crisped. The thing must at least be paralyzed beyond possibility of
recovery, a point where `death' becomes an exercise in convenient
semantics."

"Well," Parquit said grimly, "you may be right, there. If not, your scheme
of tolerance will be forced to revise itself to include a variable." He
turned to stare at the monitors which relayed images from the vault.

"If it is still alive, it shows no sign of it. All visible motion has
halted."

"I beg to question, Commander, but there is no `if' involved," interrupted
Amostom from his seat. The elderly nye made a sweeping motion with hands
and tail. "The readings are plain for those who have the openness to read
them. The thing lives. Weakened, granted, but it lives."

"How `weakened'?" asked Parquit.

Amostom performed the AAnn shrug?equivalent. "By any reasonable standards,
I should guess near to death. Indeed, it may, as the good Arris observes,
never recover. But then, little of it observes normal or reasonable
standards. By its own? who knows?"

The Commander grunted and turned back to the largest tridee monitor. It
remained focused on the quiescent black mass.

"Well, we shall have to find out. A good external stimulus ought to be the
best way. And we have one that has proven itself effective." He gestured to
Carmot and Arris to follow.

"Your pardon, Commander," said the Observer?First, "but where are we
going?"

Parquit looked back over a mailed shoulder. "Inside the vault, of course.
What kind of stimuli did you think I had in mind?"

Carmot had not moved. "I hardly think that is wise, Commander."

"Perhaps. But useful certainly." Parquit looked the small scientist over
carefully. "Is it possible the rye have a coward in their midst?"

Carmot flushed. "A heightened instinct for preservation in the face of
death is not cowardice."

"Very facile. I will not force you."

"Then of course I must come," said Carmot.



The clumsy armored suits held their speed to a crawl. Designed for use in
the weightless vacuum of space, they were terribly awkward on land. In
ordering the use of the bulky suits, Parquit privately doubted that they
would afford much in the way of protection should the creature decide to go
on another rampage. If it was capable of further rampaging, he reminded
himself. Amostom's analysis left an uncomfortably large amount of room for
disarming speculation.

Psychologically, however, the armor was valuable for such as the
Observer?First. For a race of reptiles equipped with their own body armor
by nature, armor of all types exerted an almost religious appeal.

Within the vault, the restored lighting (cut out when the emergency power
was cut on) was sharp. Colors, shadows, even the walls showed grayish in
the even lighting. The jagged debris of the creature's interspace ellipsoid
lay strewn about the room, twisted and torn like so much parchment.

The enigma to vivo rested in the center of the room.             A huge,
silent mountain of ebony opalescence and awesome power. It represented a
universe of unanswered questions.

Together with a heavily armed escort, which was present primarily for
psychological effect, a small group of volunteer scientists accompanied the
three.

A single soldier preceded the small party. He walked slowly up to the
unmoving hulk. A few nye held their breath. The soldier walked slowly
around the base of the creature, tapping it at various points with the
stock of his powerifle. After several minutes of this he flicked his tail
at the waiting party.

A low sussuration, part relief and part burgeoning curiosity, began to
emanate from the group of scientists as             they spread through the
vault. The atmosphere seemed to grow ten degrees warmer. Two were already
deep in a heated discussion by the base of the melted watertight door.

Others were soon plying about the edge of the monster. Still others were
pouring over the shredded remnants of the transportation ellipsoid that lay
scattered about the vault.

Parquit still found it difficult to think of the mountain quiet mass as
alive in any sense of the word. Its one brief display of insensate violence
and explosive motion had taken on the aspect of a bad dream, was receding
into memory.

He passed one elderly observer calmly dictating notes into his belt
recorder. The oldster was examining a fused lump of metal which lay close
to the base of the creature. It was easy enough to identify?a partially
digested arm and part of a shoulder protruded from the metal.
The            lump was the remains of one of the little inspection?repair
scooters that had carried the nye who were to release the creature from its
metal shell?and the remains of the scooter operator.

The Commander spotted Arris studying the point where the black hill touched
the floor. He strolled over and the xenobiologist waved in greeting.

"Initial deductions?" Parquit asked smoothly.

"I am still trying to adjust to the fact that this is indeed a living thing
and not a mountain of inorganic sludge, Commander." The scientist tapped
the black substance with a clawed foot. "I find it difficult to relate to
something so enormous on any kind of personal level."

"A feeling we all share. Still, I could do with some first impressions."

"Well, if Amostom's instruments are correct, then we can assume the thing
capable of unknown actions at any time. Yet I would tend to believe we may
have pulled its spines. Its intelligence remains an unknown?the most
important one, I should think."

"You believe it is of a high enough order to learn from its experience,
then?"

"Its present lack of action might be read as such. But I hesitate to
ascribe intelligence to an action which may be dictated solely by bodily
demands and be thereby entirely involuntary. I don't think in any case that
it will risk another encounter with Pyorn's electric charges. Not when it
has been so obviously damaged by the first." The xenobiologist scratched
his leathery hide with one claw. "With your permission, Commander, I'd like
to be about our schedule of experimentation. Suitable precautions will be
observed."

"I should expect so. Yes, certainly. Begin at once." Parquit caught sight
of Cannot standing off to one side and walked over. The Observer was
careful to avoid contact with the monster.

"You've been very quiet, Observer. What do you observe?"

Cannot turned a drawn face to the Commander. "I observe that an appalling
display of force resulting in destruction and fatalities is insufficient to
install suspicion in the nye. We all underestimate this unspeakable mass of
alien obscenity."

He returned his gaze to the thing in question. "The display of electronic
destruction put on by our engineers was quite impressive. It is possible
that we may have exhausted the thing's resources, that its moment of terror
was a last desperate attempt to avoid imprisonment and perhaps dissection."
He looked at Parquit evenly. "But I would not bet a southing on it."

Carmot's pessimism did not overly bother Parquit. Rather, it was the
Observer's unflattering intimations of ignorance on the part of the AAnn.
Not fitting for one in the service of the Emperor.

"You would have us attempt to destroy it now, after the nye it has cost?"
Parquit said sharply.

"Yes!" the Observer replied, with more violence than the Commander had ever
seen him express. "Now, immediately! Before it regains the strength it
showed. And for the very reason you yourself just said!"

Parquit was taken aback. "I said?"

"Truly! `Attempt to destroy it,' you said. You cannot even conceal your own
uncertainties, Commander."

"That may be," replied Parquit quietly. "But it is also for that very
reason that we must continue to study it. Its ability to survive
extraordinary assaults demands that we try to learn how this is
accomplished. It promises us secrets to be learned nowhere else. I will not
surrender these prospects to insubstantialities and personal fears."

Cannot sighed. "Let us hope they remain only that." The diminutive Observer
turned back to his inspection of the dull hulk. Instinct betrays one, he
thought perversely as he wildly wondered what the thing's flesh would taste
like. The oddest thoughts occurred to one at the oddest times.

His nursery was light?years and weal years away. He wished be were in it.



The Vom rested quietly. It was aware of the small army of intelligences
poking and prodding at it. It was aware of instruments sending questing
energies throughout its structure and it did not resist, although certain
information was allowed to be picked up subtly changed, carefully mottled.
It did not even resist when one cluster of figures set about removing a
small section of physical self, an unforgivable insult. In time past the
very thought would have meant slow death for the thinker. Now, the Vom did
not react. It could do penance.

The mistake it had just made required a good deal of it.

Very well, it would continue to present an aspect of docility that bordered
on death. Also, it had much thinking to do.

So, and so. It had underjudged its captors. It reminded itself that under
certain conditions a large number of small intelligences could act as
efficiently as a single great one. Demonstrably, they could sometimes
surpass it. It had relied too much on its unmatched body to carry the
attack through. In forgetting to reason it had forgotten everything. It had
been fortunate, yes, fortunate to have survived. After retaining life for
millennia of near?starvation, it bad nearly invited extinction by a single
rash act.

It perceived that a group of the small intelligences bad been gathering
large groups of lower beings to one side, outside its first retainer. The
Vom could not read minds now, but it was an astute interpreter of emotions
and actions. It detected the long tubes leading into the vault from outside
and the devices whose function would be to remove much of the tame water.
So its captors were going to supply it with organics. It contented itself
and calculated the time needed to regain its former plateau the various
sections reported: surprisingly little. In addition to many other things,
the Vom had forgotten its own recuperative powers.

The next time it took action it would be much stronger. A properly planned
course would be pursued. The thought of having to endure captivity by
another kind of intelligences was strange and repugnant. In fact, it was
harder to bear the thoughts in the minds of its captors, which pictured the
Vom as a prisoner, than it was the reality. The Vom firmed its resolution
and counted this another form of penance for its errors. Soon it would be
strong. Not as strong as it bad once been (it had energy to spare now for
remembering) but, yes, strong enough. Time brought power.



The little girl couldn't have been more than nine or ten. She crouched
fearfully behind a moss?covered rock in the dense rain?forest. Warm water
dripped off the trees all around. It was the only movement in the dead,
humid air; the sound the only sound. Drops fell heavily from branch to
branch in the riot of silent greenery. Filicales and bryopsids dominated
the scene.

Clasped tightly in her right hand was a small blaster. Cautiously, she
raised herself enough to peer over the rock. The forestscape showed nothing
unusual. Nothing to see but the delicate trees, mistiphytes, and an
occasional patch of chromatic fungi.

A dull maroon something moved between two mushroom things on her left. The
gun twisted around and fired and the maroon thing exploded in steam and
green blood. Bits and pieces continued to hump around in a horrible
travesty of retained life.

The girl stepped around the boulder, keeping the blaster focused on the
area of destruction. When the remnants of the still unidentifiable thing
had ceased their life-burlesque, she lowered the weapon and moved forward.

She wasn't looking up, so she didn't see the fire?constrictor as it dropped
silently from its branch. Just as she didn't see the double rows of tiny
scimitar teeth which sank inches into the muscle at the back of her neck
with the force of a hammer.



Kitten blinked as she exited the booth, rubbing a spot above her left ear
where the head contacts had chafed slightly.

"Well," asked a foppishly clad Porsupah. He was sitting on a bench gayly
lit from within, chewing a stick of arromesh. "How was it?"

She replied in a broadly accented, aristocratic tone. This, lace Porsupah's
suit, was for the benefit of the many who strolled the noisy, glittering
pathways of the amusement arcade.

"Rather dull, I'm afraid. Oh, of itself, it doesn't fail. And the
killer?illusion choice was somewhat different slinkering is something I
haven't done more than once or twost before. But compared to the simies of
Terra or even Myra Ian, it's not much. The cortex of a fire?constrictor
doesn't permit much of the real pleasure of the kill to seep through, if
you know what I mean."

"I told you we should have gone fishing!" Porsupah put on a petulant look.
"How anyone can compare the thrill of hooking a parapike with the sterility
of the imitation stimuli of a simie booth?it's all just so, so gauche!"

He handled the role of a spoiled merchant's nephew with a skill and verve
Kitten couldn't hope to match.

"Fishing, fishing! Honestly, Niki, sometimes I swear you'd be happier a
fish yourself. And I never compared the two." She flicked ashes idly from
the long stick of Terran tobacco. "Even if some of the fish are bigger than
your hoveraft, I can't see much of a challenge to someone using a powerhook
and reel."

"The thrill's in the play and the landing, not the size of the fish. At
least I don't use an explosive hook, like some. And it's a more honest form
of fun than plugging yourself into one of those infantile joyboxes!" He
waved contemptuously at the row of simies. A few had lights on over the
doors, indicating they were in use. Each one they passed had a more garish
sign than the next, promoting this or that forbidden thrill in safety and
perfect simulation.

"Meretricious mental masturbation!" the Tolian concluded grandiosely. He
rose and started to walk down another arcade way. Kitten followed,
strolling on his left.

"And furthermore," he continued as they passed a stall where a tall alien
was vending home?cooked pastries, just like Emethra used to make, "there's
nothing stopping you from trolling for giant groupert or malrake with plain
old hook and line, you know."

She drew herself up haughtily. "I may enjoy taking risks now and then, it's
true, but I'm not crazy, Niki."

"Does my lady seek something a bit more intense yet sure and private,
then?" came a voice from one side.

They turned together. A portly human was seated in a wicker chair at one
side of the still walkaway. In an age of multiple diet chemical controls
and adequate cosmetic surgery, the man was a living fossil. He was fat.

It was moderately aesthetic fat, however, Perhaps the effect wasn't
entirely unintentional. Rather than sagging, it ballooned tautly against
his cheekbones and forearms. There is a great deal of difference
appearance?wise between a fat man who looks like Santa Claus and one who
seems composed of wet rags. This one was a Santa.

The blue eyes, set like lapis?lazuli on either side of the marquise?cut
probosis, did not twinkle, however. They stared unwaveringly back into
one's own.

The portatables surrounded the man like metallic pygmies attending an idol
of gluttony. They were piled with tridee cubes of planetary scenery,
hand?carvings of Replerian ivory and fine woods, and an occasional bit of
good jewelry. The stock was a little better than the average of the type
but displayed nothing extraordinary.

"Well now," Kitten began, "we're not averse to suggestions from even the
most unlikely quarters, my pudgy purveyor."

"A lady who follows her soul, I see. Better than calling me plain fat,'
which is what I be."

Kitten gestured with the tobacco stick at a rack of cubes depicting
fishermen in time?honored poses with victims of the sport a Terran
counterpart would scoff at as trick photography.

"Your miserable attempts at flattery do me no honor. Unless you've more for
sale than pretty pictures favoring the local cretinisms, I fear you waste
our time."

The man sneezed. "The administration really ought to do something about
covering over these seaside amusement ways. At least the walkaways could be
subheated." He wiped his nose with a big multicolored hanky and heaved
himself forward in the chair, wheezing.

"If you've the inclination," he continued much more softly, "and the
money?yes the money?for something most definitely different, I think we
might do business."

Kitten moved closer and leaned over part of the tables. She pretended to
examine a carved walrus?like creature with thin silver whiskers and
rose?crystal tusks.

"The desire is always there, merchant. And I have enough credits for
anything in the way of entertainment this damp sod?ball could possibly
offer. Endeavor to provide specifics, please."

"Bloodhype," the man whispered evenly. "A narcotic, if you haven't heard of
it. The finest, rarest, and most pleasureful drug this end of the opposite
Arm. If you've the mind and guts to try it, that is."

Kitten drew back, sighing. "Oh my. And I really hoped you might have
something worthwhile, too." She took in the whole City in a contemptuous
jerk of her head. "Your market for such a product is everywhere evident. No
doubt the sophisticated populace makes heavy demands on your thin stock.
The woods must be aswarm with beboggled loggers and trappers!"

She handed the man the figurine and her credit slip. He went through the
motions of recording the purchase. He pursed his lips in surprise as her
credit rating flashed on his doublecheck screen.

"You do have the money, lovely lady?lady. Yes you do. As for your sarcasm,
I am not offended. People migrate, .'lady, and so do many products. A
number of such pause here on their way to other, more lucrative markets.
But some is always available at points of transfer. That smokestick off
yours, for example, is Terran tobacco, is it not?" Kitten nodded. "There,
you see? For someone with the proper attitude and resources, anything is
avail. able anyplace." He was very jolly about it all.

"Then you're serious? It's really available in this backwater?" She put
just enough disbelief and suppressed excitement into her voice.

He continued to wrap the little carving in decorative foil. "As serious and
real as your beauty, lass."

"And you've samples with you?"

He chuckled lightly. "My ancient human history is not the best, but from
the tapes I can recall, I believe the court fools were traditionally on the
slim side. No, lady. The equal of Hivehom the local constabulary may not
be, but their machinery is as good as that on many of the more metropolitan
worlds. I trust that you would not be averse to a short sea journey?"

"Well ... how long?"

"Less than a day."

"And we could leave ... when?" she asked breathlessly.

"Immediately, if you wish."

She turned to Porsupah. "Niki?"

"These whims of yours, Pilar. Oh well, if you think you know what you're
getting us into. Jaster is supposed to be 100 percent addictive, d recall."

"Oh, pool Scare rumors the Church manufactures to frighten children!" The
fat man was watching her closely. "Besides, if it's the real stuff, think
what a coup I will have on the Marchioness ... the bitchy little snippet!"

"This absurd vendetta you carry with your cousin ... all right. But only if
it all takes less than a day. I still have that flyer reserved to take us
north day after tomorrow following?"

"Bother your fishing!" She turned back to the merchant.

"We accept."

"Excellent! Then if you will permit me a few moments to pack up my simple
shop, we can be off."

"I hope your mysterious rendezvous isn't terribly inaccessible. This outfit
wasn't made for roughing it." She indicated the skintight black?spotted
orange fur jumpsuit she was wearing, with open circlets on each leg
revealing patches of skin up to her arms.

The man was folding the portatables?or rather, directing them to fold
themselves. The stock automatically twisted and turned until it was
contained in several odd-sized crates and rectangles. These quickly
maneuvered themselves into a single featureless black block, like an
automated jigsaw puzzle. He locked it, put a single CLOSED sign on the
front, and started off in the direction of the sea breeze, Porsupah and
Kitten following.

"Kind of chilly," said Pors.

"As can be seen?and smelled?this amusement area is quite close to the
docks," their guide informed. Already they had left behind the hard lights
and perpetual people-hum of the walkaways. Moving under their own power,
they strolled along dimly lit seaside byways, kept clear of fog by City
weather machinery.

Commercial craft mingled here with private vessels, each sidled close, by
its protective pier or slideway. They ranged from popcorn clusters of tiny
one?seat water-skippers to huge bulk?fishers and transports hundreds of
meters long. The farraginous flotilla threw alien city-shadows against the
night sky. Phosphorescent foam the color of old newsprint lapped onto
plastic hoveraft beaches.

When Repler's two moons were in the sky, as they were now, they threw a
fair amount of light. Massed together, they would have made a body a little
larger than Terra's Luna. September was nearly overhead, while August had
just cleared the horizon. It would get lighter before it got darker, and
the shadow of the old tom mewing on a broken piling would split.

The man led them down a long, telescoping dock. Hard by the dark water at
its end rested a narrow, racy looking hoveraft. Light showed in the open
doorway and above the forecabin windows, illuminating the pebbled
artificial beach. Despite its fine fines, the vessel was clearly more metal
than plastine. That argued for a craft in tended to transport cargo more
than people. Quickly, too.

"We're expected?" said Porsupah on catching sight of the lights. Kitten
knew that he'd probably spotted them as soon as they'd turned down the
quay. No point in letting their friendly pusher onto any Tolian abilities
he might not be aware of.

"Hardly. No, I suspect the two pilots are up. The ship is normally engaged
in transporting supplies to our host's place of business. Sedda and Franz
are perfectly trustworthy. You needn't worry on that account."

"Let's hurry it up then," said Kitten. "We do have other engagements, you
know."

The fat man slowed his pace slightly. "Someone is expecting you then?"

"No no! I just get impatient at times, merchant. I am ... high?strung, you
might say. Besides," she added hastily, "hoveraft night?rides aren't
exactly the most luxurious form of transportation, you know."

"'The best at my disposal, I fear. Again may I say we will not be overlong.
Our destination is but ... but why should that concern you, eh?" He herded
them on board.

Two men looked up from a game of femin?de?fer as the three entered the
cabin. Both were simply attired in plaid work?pants and light
water?repellent jackets. They looked very competent.

The one called Franz gave Kitten at least as thorough a look?over as he
gave his cargo. He spoke to the fat man, who was peeling off his own
jacket. The thick arms thus revealed showed a surprising amount of muscle.

"Well! York, your taste in merchandise is improving!"

"Watch your tongue, Franz. The lady and her friend are to be our guests.
Class A?1, you understand?"

The burly pilot looked startled, then pleased. "Your pardon, m'lady. No
offense meant."

"None taken," said Kitten, smiling archly and lighting up another
smokestick.

The other pilot, Sedda, was already warming up the raft's engines. A
shudder went through the vessel as the big rotors began to turn over.

"Have a seat back among the cargo, then," said Franz. He turned to the fat
man. "I take it his Lordship's approval will be forthcoming ffor this.
unscheduled journey, York?"

"No doubt on it," the big man replied, making himself comfortable for the
trip.

"That's enough for me, then." The pilot turned back to his position
forward.

"If you'd give me a hand here first, Franz?" said York.

"My pleasure, enormous one."

York had rummaged through a side compartment and come up with two
blindfolds. "I say now," began Porsupah uncertainly. "Are those things
entirely necessary?"

"I fear that they are," York apologized. "You understand, where merchandise
of so, ah, controversial a nature is involved, extreme precautions are the
norm." He reached out and gently removed the stub of the smokestick from
Kitten's lips, deposited it carefully to one side.

Kitten squirmed slightly as dark cloth took away her sight. "Surely you
can't believe that, even if I were so inclined, which I am not, I could
possibly retrace the route to your patron's hideaway from what I might see
while racing through the night over the waters of an utterly strange
planet?"

"No, I do not. But I do not share similar feelings with respect to your
furry friend here. Where unknown ,qualities are concerned, it is best to be
careful. And while potential customers you may be, you two do constitute
rather an unknown."

"Really?" 'said Kitten. "I'd think we were pretty transparent. Certainly
our purpose is clear. Why the `potential' customer? Are you entertaining
second thoughts about my credit rating?" She began to get a sinking feeling
in her stomach that somewhere someone had made a ghastly blunder. This
occurred whenever things refused to run in synch with her ideas of the
cosmos.

"Not your credit rating, no," York replied conversationally. He finished
knotting the blindfold. Hard. "But  thoughts, yes. I'm especially curious
about one thing. A triviality, really, but it bothers me. While you were
conversing with me at my pitiable stand, several blatantly plainclothes
lawfolk passed by and did not see fit to interrupt us."

"And why should they have?" she replied, tensing.

"Because," interrupted the voice of Franz, "as friend York's pickup relayed
to us, your smokesticks are Terran tobacco. Ever since an early colonist
discovered that the fumes were fatal to the young shoots of an especially
rare and valuable wood, Terran tobacco has been a forbidden import on
Repler."

Kitten made a half?hearted shrug. "Am I expected to know that?" She
gathered her feet under her and began edging a hand up towards the
blindfold.

"Possibly not," said York. "But those two officers should have, even if you
slipped it by the oh?so?careful customs inspectors at the Port?"

She ripped off the blindfold and in one motion slammed a heel into Franz'
knee, feeling the patella snap. The big pilot doubled over in pained
surprise. She saw Sedda set the raft on auto and turn back towards her just
as something very heavy descended on her head from behind. Darkness and
silence descended with it.



When she regained consciousness she found that her position in the world
had been altered. She was now horizontal. She tried to move her arms, then
her legs. Results were not encouraging. Her limbs had been effectively
immobilized. The bench she was securely tied to was hard, flat, and (she
wiggled awkwardly) damn cold. The coldness was magnified by the fact that
she had no clothes on. The bonds at her wrists waist, and ankles disturbed
her far more than her nakedness. Her clothing she missed mostly for the
several miniature weapons sewn into the waistband.

Turning as far as possible to the left and leaning with all her ?weight,
she tugged hard at the smooth bond on her right wrist. This accomplished
nothing beyond bringing on a sudden onslaught of dizziness. Her body was
weak from inactivity. The more?than?leather strap wasn't leather. And there
was a lump at the back of her head that wasn't caused by her hairdo.

A familiar voice called softly from somewhere to her right.

"Sssst! Pilar!"

That was her cover name. Despite another restraining strap across her neck,
she was able to turn enough to see Porsupah encased in a rough mold of
polypane foam. He was packaged as neatly as the polished figurine York had
sold her. Her bead bad cleared and she strained to see as much as possible.
Because of the neck strap she could raise her head only a little, but could
turn it all the way to left or right. Despite its strength, the strap still
felt like fine leather and didn't chafe. Even so, she had doubts that they
were so constructed because their owner wished to seem solicitous of her
health.

When she looked up she saw an old man. He was seated in a raised chair at
the foot of the bench. His clothes were garish, loud, and clashed badly.
Gray?white hair was parted down the middle and combed off to both sides,
tied at the back in a pigtail. She found the air of polite concern he
affected while staring down at her positively revolting. She would have
preferred some honest drooling.

He was an ugly old man. Not that his features were particularly repulsive;
they weren't. But the aura of evil he carried about him was as perceptible
as rotting wet vegetation. Some folk felt nice, some felt ugly. This one
felt ugly.

"Hello, my dear," he said. The voice was high, almost girlish, but there
was little hint of age in it?no quaver, and certainly no weakness. It
wasn't even a tiny bit grandfatherly, although that was apparently the
impression the man was trying to give. "Glad to see you're awake. Permit me
to introduce myself."

"Not until you release me and my friend from these ludicrous contraptions!"
she said, putting as much ice info her words as possible. The oldster
didn't appear chilled. "And until you explain yourself. Then perhaps I may
forgive you enough to make your acquaintance. This is a strange way you
have of doing business."

"I suspect, my dear, that your concern with my business is not from the
point of view of a purchaser. Meanwhile you should know?whether you
`forgive' or not?that my name is Dominic Rose, my title Lord, and that you
are presently ensconced, however indelicately,  in my own residence some
several hundreds off kilometers from Repler City. As for releasing you, I
have two pilots currently undergoing treatment in my private dispensary.
One has a broken kneecap, the other six parallel wounds in his belly that
your not?so?stuffy companion put there."

"I do apologize for that," broke in Porsupah. "I was aiming for his eyes,
but he slipped. I will have the peasant's head and my Uncle his ears whey
word of this outrage is revealed!"

"You will have nothing but a short existence if you persist in upsetting my
liver, Tolian. Your `Uncle's' reality is suspect. Now then," he continued,
turning back to Kitten, "if you will simply tell me who you and your friend
are, we might avoid any messy unpleasantness. I should also like to know
which of several governments or competitors of mine you are working for."

"I don't see that my identity should be in question," she replied
venomously. "Surely you've gone through our private effects by now!" Inside
she was beginning to shake a little. This fellow was too direct. Such men
survived by a habit of discarding semantic chaff and going straight to the
point. Cold men disdained word?play.

"Oh yes," Rose said. "They declare you, quite thoroughly, to be one Pilar
van Heublen. A young lady of respectable means and impeccable pedigree here
on a pleasure trip from Myla IV. Should I request confirming detail, I am
sure you could embroider these facile evasions elegantly."

"Why should you doubt them?"

"There are several reasons, my dear," he sighed. "At least one of which, I
am informed, you are already aware of. I wish you wouldn't try to bandy
words with me. You openly brandish a forbidden import Terran tobacco, in
full view of several police. Not only do they not take you into custody,
they studiously ignore you! This brands you as something other than what
you claim to be. You might still be the same person your Ident claims, but
I doubt it. In any case, I doubt your avowed purpose in coming here
completely, wholly, instinctively.

"A false identity, influence of a high order with the police, coupled with
interest in a truly rare drug only recently available again on the market,
add up to more than a wealthy flit out for a new thrill. Your Ident and
credit slip appear to be perfectly legitimate, and I assure you they have
been gone over by experts. This makes you doubly suspect; such things are
obscenely difficult to forge. Work of such a high order few organizations
can afford. Governments are among these. A very few of my competitors too.
But they are not usually so subtle in their method. When they seek
information they are more apt to send a dozen inquirers with persuasions of
explosive mien. This leaves us where? Back with governments again. Now, I
dislike bureaucrats on principle. If so, I dislike you. Anyone who
interferes in the business affairs of ,a simple old man I dislike!

"I especially dislike pretty tourists who can throw a side?kick capable of
breaking a man's leg, from a sitting position, no less. I think if you
weren't tied down you might even try to break mine. Being an old man, I'd
crack very easily. My bones are brittle, I'm afraid. Everywhere but my
head. Perhaps you represent even more than our local police, umm? The
Commonwealth, mayhap? Or even the Church?"

Kitten feigned a long sigh. "Old man, you have a maniac imagination. Or
possibly it's simple senility."

Rose's expression did not change. "You're as feisty as you are lovely. I'd
rather not ruin one to modify the other. And you may be right about my
imagination. I'm using it right now. I'll keep on using it until you tell
me what I have to know. The same will apply to your short friend." He
gestured in Porsupah's direction.

"Perhaps you, Tolian, are more inclined to answer a few questions?"

"I vow vengeance!" Porsupah shouted. "Vengeance, when my family learns of
this!? You will wish we were merely government puppets! My great Uncle is
the second most powerful metals manufacturer on?!"

Rose was shaking his head slowly. "Such fine acting! Still, there is always
the long, long chance that you are who you claim to be. That your ease with
tobacco was due merely to ignorance all around, or some fantastic bribes in
the proper places. In that case, I will later apologize profusely for what
I am about to have done. For now, I would rather proceed."

He pressed a button or switch below Kitten's line of sight. There was the
sound of a door opening. Kitten looked up and to the left to see an opening
appear in the side of the room. A tall male figure entered. It was well
muscled and nude to the waist. A black hood pierced with three slots for
eyes and mouth covered the man's head down to the shoulders.

Kitten laughed?not easy, under the circumstances. "Oh ... oh now, really!
How terribly, terribly melodramatic!"

"Isn't it?" said Rose rather fondly. "Please forgive me, my dear. I'm
something of a traditionalist."

The figure walked to a small wheeled cart and pushed it over next to
Kitten's bench. He stopped it close by her head. A large metal case sat on
the cart. The man uncoupled four metallic latches and swung the two halves
of the case open. The contents gleamed in the soft fluorescent light like
faceted gems. They comprised a complete portable surgery.

"Physical torture!" she said contemptuously. "How unutterably crude! If you
would persist in this idiocy, I would at least expect a modicum of
sophistication!"

Rose smiled for the first time. There was no humor in it.

"The allegation has been made before, my dear. As Ive indicated, I'm
pretty nostalgic about some things. Despite the great advances in human
technology, certain basics remain essentially unchanged. Only the
methodology is improved. Also, I confess cheerfully that my motives are not
wholly practical. The procedure involved provides me with a certain amount
of pleasure. I like hearing pretty girls scream. We all have our little
affectations. Mine is neither new nor unique. It's a time?honored human
pastime. At least you must give me credit for my choice of tools. You're
looking at a complete portable laboratory for organic repair?a very
expensive toy, I assure you. Not the slightest danger of infection."

"How considerate you are!" Kitten rasped. She tried the bonds at one ankle
this time, puling upwards as well as back.

"You won't break those strappings, my dear. Now, this particular surgery
was made by the best thranx technicians on Humus. For different purposes,
of course. Cost me a pretty credit, not to mention faking hospital
credentials for the purchaser and a host of other details! But I have few
hobbies and can indulge. If you look closely, you can make out the imprint
of the noted Elvor laboratories on each instrument. See how they catch the
light!"

Kitten was trying to look anywhere but at the objects of Rose's adoration.
One glance had been more than sufficient. Where Rose saw beauty, she saw
only a nightmare of piercing points and fine?honed edges. Things for
gripping, things for slicing, things for scraping.

She shuddered for the first time. Even the most experienced operatives had
only so much control.

"I understand," she continued drily, "that the sublimation of normal
desires through the use of such devices is positive proof of the wielder's
impotence."

"Such well?honed insults! Such delicately practiced invective!" Rose
clapped his hands boyishly. "I've read formal psychology, my dear. That is
true in a few cases. Only a few. Anyway, as you can see, I've turned the
actual operation ?pardon the pun? over to this fine young friend of mine.
It is him you should he trying to dissuade. He requested most firmly that
he be permitted to perform as my surrogate. I agreed, because of my
persistent problem in such things. I have a regrettable lack of patience
and tend to get carried away early. That spoils things much too soon. Very
unprofessional, too. My youthful compatriot, however, brings not only the
necessary patience to the task, but also a certain young enthusiasm. And
he's received expert instruction, even if he remains less skillful than I"

The mention of the semi?naked young man reminded Kitten of his unspeaking
presence. She turned, with difficulty, to stare curiously at him. On
impulse, she gave him her best helpless?young?maiden look. It must have had
some effect, because the young man finally spoke.

"I've always had a suppressed desire to play at lower abdominal surgery
without bothersome encumbrances like anesthetics," he said smoothly. He was
toying with a long thin pair of finely?crafted forceps with razor?sharp
tips. They made a squeaky sound whenever the two blades snicked together. A
hand came up and lifted back the black hood.

It was Russell Kingsley.



"Relax, Maijib," Hammurabi said to his First Mate. The hoveraft sped over
the slick waters. "Rose won't try anything silly or unprofitable. He's old,
but he's not stupid. Our best insurance is thousands of kilometers skyward.
There's no way he can get to the dust aboard the Umbra."

"Even so," said the diminutive Takaharu, "I'd feel a lot better about the
whole business if you'd talk with him via comm and forget this needless
appearance in person."

"No good Maj. He wouldn't believe a word I said from the comfort of the
Umbra's forecabin. He might consent to come aboard, but he's a tricky old
devil. I'd rather not let him on ship. He needs something in the way of
concrete proof of my seriousness. I'm it."

The hoveraft slowed as Takaharu slid the rented craft slowly around the
rocky circumference of the island, searching for the landing. Hammurabi
noted idly that the large quasi?evergreens grew down almost to the water's
edge, where the green stalks of water plants took over from the
land?dwellers. It had been the same on all the islands they'd passed thus
far. It was the same on Will's Landing, the island on which Repler City was
located. It was more intense at the equator and less so nearer the poles.

The docking area sat at the head of a natural inlet. Several other vessels,
one a transport of fair size, were tied up or beached at the landing. As
they rounded the last point the comet buzzed and Takaharu leaned to flip
the channel open. The small vidscreen lit but no picture appeared.

"You in the blue raft?identify yourself and state your business."

Mal leaned forward into the pickup eye of the raft's vidcast unit and spoke
towards the omni?directional mike.

"Malcolm Hammurabi, Captain?Owner of the free freighter Umbra. To see Lord
Dominic Rose. Business. As was earlier agreed, my pilot and I are unarmed."

They sat quietly while someone on shore dutifully relayed this information
to someone equipped to deal with it. The raft's fans droned like an idle
beehive beneath the floor.

The screen flickered briefly, then cleared. An unremarkable middle?aged man
appeared on the screen glass. He was trying hard not to look bored.

"You're early, Captain. His Lordship has just entered conference. I am
instructed to direct you to land. His Lordship cannot meet you there, but
there will be someone suitable to greet you dockside and conduct you to the
residence. Take the third slip, please."

The light faded, taking the face with it.

"Efficient S.O.B.," Takaharu said mildly. "A lot like his boss, I suspect."

"You're familiar with Rose's reputation?" Mal said, slightly surprised.
"You didn't mention it before."

"Before what? I didn't expect you'd have personal dealing with him. No,
friend of mine once bought an impale off thryacin from one of `his
Lordship's' dealers. For a pet doggish that had the gout. Turned out to be
colored ink. The mate revved the engine, coasted around a small moored
boat. "The doggish died," he added.

"Um." Mal flipped off their own tridee. "Haven't seen him myself in some
time. Doubt if he's changed much. He's a funny character. As they get
older, most crooks become more fearful of death. Not Rose. He just becomes
a little less moral, if that's possible."

Takaharu turned a sardonic face to his captain. I wouldn't think so,
judging from all I've heard of him."

"All things are possible. But if he's still degenerating he must be down to
fractions by now. Your question would amuse him."

"And you think you can deal with a thing like that?"

Mal shrugged. "For what I want to do, I'll have to. According to the Holy
Books, to quote, `the percentage of master in the universe that is composed
of intelligent organic matter is comparable to a typical human's casual
expectoration in any two of Terra's oceans.' It's not too difficult to put
such people in proper perspective, depersonalize them. Try to think of a
rock with rabies. Here's the slip."

Throwing more power to the rear?right fan Takaharu eased the raft around
and edged up onto the dull plastic mat tacked down over the sand. A tall
young man waited by the side of a telescoping ramp. Although far slimmer,
almost gaunt, he was taller than Mal. Nearly two meters, he would have
towered over the Mate. Dark complexion, red hair, and boyishly
good?looking, Mal noticed. The youth extended a long arm to help Mal up
from the cabin port, realized his error and flushed.

"Apologies, sir. I'm afraid I'm not used to this."

"Skip it, kid."

"I am to conduct you to his Lordship's residence."

"Fine. As agreed, my pilot will remain on board until my return." He waved
back to a watching Takaharu, who promptly cut the engines on the raft. The
craft settled gently to the landing mat as air was expelled from its
cushion.

Mal turned back to his guide and with a start noticed that the ornament
curled about the lad's right shoulder was more than simply well?crafted. It
was alive.

Pleated wings unfolded to reveal a long neck topped by a flat triangular
head. Wide yellow eyes stared down at him quizzically. The Captain took a
step backwards and groped for the blaster that wasn't there. The youth
noticed the flinching movement and hastened to explain.

"It's all right, sir. He won't harm you. He's harmless. Well, tame,
anyway." He reached up and began scratching the reptile on the back of the
slightly ridged neck. The snake closed its eyes and relaxed, the wings
refolding. "He's just wary of strangers, that's all." The youngster
gestured up a slight incline. "The residence is just ahead. If you'll
come

Mal matched strides with his guide?carefully staying on his left. He
continued to keep a wary eye on the somnolent minidrag.

"That is a flying snake, isn't it? From Alaspin?"

"Yes sir. I'm surprised you recognized him. They're not often found off
their native world, I understand."

"First time I've ever seen one off it. Gave me quite a turn. I believe the
poison they throw is almost always fatal."

"Yes," replied the youth without breaking stride. "If the poison hits an
open wound or the eyes, death usually occurs within a minute or so. If it
hits bare skin or organic clothing it takes longer. It's highly corrosive,
too. There is an antidote, but the chances of a victim receiving it before
death occurs is slight. The speed it kills with doesn't permit much time
for turning some up."

"Not hardly," Mal replied. "I've never heard tell of a tame one."

"A fact which has been pointed out to me often, sir. It's a childhood pet.
I can't remember a time when it wasn't close by me."

They were walking among a scattered complex of structures. Done in
neo?landscape style, they provided excellent dispersal and natural
air?cover, making good use of island vegetation. The irregular shapes were
all brown and green, blending easily into the forest. Few windows could be
seen. The only well?exposed structure was a single, needle?thin observation
tower which poked its disc shaped crown above the top of the tallest tree.
The upper surface of the disc exploded in all directions in a wild
electronic hairdo. No question but that their approaching hoveraft had been
visually spotted long before commtact had been made.

"For a quiet, peaceable trader his Lordship takes rather extreme
precautions," Mal ventured, hoping to draw some useful information from the
lad.

"I cannot judge such things, sir. I have been in his Lordship's employ for
yet a very brief time. By the way, my name is Philip. I am aware that his
Lordship has many acquaintances who would not be displeased to see him
expire in violence. So he takes care. An interesting personage."

Mal peered more closely at the youth's bland expression. "You're a
perceptive young man. Yet you don't strike me as the type Rose would hire.
What is your job? I might add that your off?planet accent sticks out like a
solar flare."

"As to that, sir, I know it well. I've been on Repler the same short time
..."

"Damned if I can place your accent. Yet. ..."

"... but one seeks employment where one can. I did not know for whom I was
to work when I took the job. One of his Lordship's subalterns hired me. I
am good at my work."

"Which is?" Mal prompted.

"Well ... watch out for that branch, sir ... currently my title is
`apprentice sanitation engineer.' I work with the less popular by?products
of existence. Keep finer sensibilities from contact with them. At least,
that's what it says in the manual." He grinned, added by way of apology,
"I'm afraid his Lordship's selecting me to greet you was a calculated
offense."

Mal grinned back. "Don't let it bother you. Seeing that damned thing play
arm?jewel on your shoulder makes up for it, plus some." He gestured at the
deadly reptile.

They arrived by a building so well camouflaged it seemed a part of the
hillside. Not the largest of the complex, it was clearly designed even from
the outside as a place for living rather than for business.

The guide pressed a palm to one side of the green brown wall. A wide double
panel separated with a slight hiss, offering entrance. A long alcove was
revealed within. It was completely walled with bronze?inlay mirrors and
carpeted in synthetic furs. They entered.

The corridor made several sharp, twisting turns,, and they descended at
least one, possibly two, levels. Several doorways and electronic portals
were met and passed. Some appeared without warning in the mirrored sides.
If the setup had been designed to confuse, it succeeded.

After several minutes of casual if complicated strolling, they came to a
moderate?sized room. It was furnished magnificently in antique Terran. The
furnishings looked like the real thing, not reproductions or fakes. But
then, old Rose was probably doing well these days and wanted to show it.
Mal's eye was quickly drawn to an elegant old television set. It had to be
non?functional. Just the chassis was worth a small fortune. Ancient
precursor of the tridee, it sat alone on its own pedestal.

At the same time that he was estimating the thing's worth in antique shops
on half a dozen planets, he wondered crazily if maybe it could still be
functional. A familiar young voice interrupted his musings.

"You're to wait here, sir. His Lordship will join you shortly."

Mal shook hands with the likable youngster as the other turned to depart.

"Pleasure meeting you, friend. If you've ever a mind to learn spacing, my
ship, the Umbra, is listed in all the registries."

"It's always been a wish of mine, sir." For a moment the youngster's face
acquired the shadow of someone -oddly? much older. It passed and he looked
down at the Captain. "But now that I might make use o such an offer, Pm
too busy with other things. Still, one never knows. Perhaps some day, when
I've settled one or two personal things ..:' He smiled easily and left Mal
alone in the room.

After contemplating the portal by which the youth had departed, Mal turned
and walked over to the incredibly archaic video see. He began examining it
in some detail, wishing at the same time that he was more familiar with
such profitable trade items as luxury antiques and similar oddities. He was
in the process of trying to open the hinged back to see how much of the
innards were original when Rose entered via another of the ubiquitous
paneled doorways.

"Good day, good day to you, Captain Hammurabi! I've heard tell of you in
shipping circles. They speak well of you there." The old man extended a
hand.

Mal took it and immediately felt dirtier than when he'd entered the room.
Without waiting for an invitation be sat himself down on a
comfortable?looking old easy chair. It was covered in hand?stitched
upholstery and was worth a few thousand credits at the least.

"Can I order something for you, Captain? Liquid refreshment, mayhap? The
congenial companionship of a nubile young lady? Well?trained, I assure
you."

"A fast shot of bloodhype, perhaps?" said Mal evenly. He'd taken the
offensive since sitting himself down and intended to maintain it until he
left the island kilometers behind. "Don't try and look startled. You knew I
had it and you knew I knew what it was, or I wouldn't be here now. No, skip
the oh?so?coy verbal byplay, too. I don't appreciate it and I've no time
for it."

Rose sighed with great care. "So few of the accepted verities remain these
days. You youngsters ignore the pleasures of a game you don't even
understand. Such hurry, such rush, such haste to make money! But as you
will. How much?"

"It's not for sale."

"Oh come now, Captain!" chuckled the old merchant. "Everything is for sale!
I know. I've bought it. Your very livelihood depends on how astutely you
hire your body and the bodies of your crew out to the highest bidder. And
you profess to know what is and what is not available for sale!" The last
words dripped contempt.

"I won't shoot words with you, Rose. You've more experience at it than I,
for one thing. For another, long dialogues full of double?entendres and
metaphors bore the crap out of me. Also, you might just trick me into
saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and I'd feel bound by it. Now,
this is what I want:

"I want you to halt all traffic in bloodhype. I want you to destroy any not
yet shipped. I want you to supply a list of known addicts?addicts, Rose;
not pushers, not dealers, addicts?to Church authorities so that those few
cases which haven't passed the point of no return can be treated. I want
you to make a respectable effort?if you have enough control, which I
suspect you do?to shut off all production of the drug and to destroy
whatever growths or synthetics that furnish the raw stuff for the refined
product."

"That's interesting," Rose said, helping himself to a transparent chocolate
from a silver dish nearby. "One thing for you, Captain. Your threats are
specific. I like that."

"Shipwaste!" Hammurabi said in disgust. "I said I wouldn't bandy words." He
slammed a fist the size of a small ham onto an ancient coffee table. The
old wood groaned alarmingly.

Rose swallowed the last of the chocolate, licked two fingers daintily.

"Pardon, Captain, but somehow you did not impress me as the altruistic
type."

"Any maws nature contains a certain number of variables, Rose. On rare
occasions it behooves some of us to do a decent thing."

"Never suffered the urge," replied the dragger.

"Some variables are all at the same end of the psychological spectrum. In
return for cutting off future profits, which are always speculative
anyway," Mal continued, "I'll return all the other drugs to you. You can
have back your aelo, mak, heroin?B, and all the rest. I'll mention nothing
of any of this to the authorities and post a personal bondship to an
independent broker to guarantee it. Only one other being on the Umbra knows
what your little case of spice contains, and she won't talk without my
say?so. Records of the initial chemical analysis of the contents of the
spice jars will be wiped by my own hand from the ship's memory core."

"How good you are! And if I do not care for your terms?"

"Then I go straight to the padre in Repler City with the drugs and every
scrap of knowledge I can gather concerning their origin, destination, and
method of shipping. Not to mention a' certain old man whose business it is
to speed such filth on its merry way."

Rose sat quietly, smiling, thinking. The thoughts and quiet Mal could
understand. The smile could be forced, or it could be genuine. A genuine
smile would mean unforeseen and unplanned?for factors?to wit, an aces
equivalent in the deck, Wait and see.

Rose appeared to be fascinated by the fingers of his left hand. He turned
his attention to the right, as though to assure himself that it did,
indeed, match its mate.

"Now I'll introduce a little something extra into the universe, Captain.
Since you insist on playing the role of the gallant, honest, good?Samaritan
type ?ergo, civilized..."

"Words again? Hammurabi said irritably.

"... I believe I shall try you on damsels?in?distress. It should prove
instructive. When I entered you were absorbed in an inspection of that
lovely 20th?century video set?a genuine Victor, I might add. Like myself,
the insides had long since reached an advanced state of decomposition. They
have been replaced with especially adapted modern equivalents. Watch it.
You'll see something."

Rose removed 'a pencil that wasn't from a breast pocket. He fiddled with it
for a moment. A picture in full tridee appeared instantly. It displayed an
exquisitely attractive young girl strapped naked to a low wooden table. Off
to one side an alien being struggled futilely in a cocoon of surfoam. Mars
trader encyclopedia identified it as a native of the planetary system
Tolus. A fairly handsome young man, nude to the waist, held some
unidentifiable metallic instrument over the girl's body.

"Sorry to have to leave you, Russell," Rose said into one end of the
pencil. "Have you begun yet?"

The young man looked up into the screen and grinned.

"I was just about to, Uncle Rose. We've been having a chat."

"Commendable," replied Rose. "But while I don't wish to spoil your esthetic
conception?I'm sure you've the whole afternoon's work well choreographed?I
fear I must ask you to modify things somewhat. We've a slight change in
plans. A guest, you see."

Kingsley leaned forward. "Oh, I see. A fellow aficionado? Big chap, isn't
he?"

"Not a fellow connoisseur, no. Now then, if you would be good enough to do
something interesting to the young lady? Elicit a dramatic response, if you
will. That's a good lad!"

The young man bent over and did something with the silvery instrument. His
upper torso obscured most of the motion. A long, high?pitched scream came
through the receiver. It held for several seconds, then broke into a series
of uneven choking coughs. Surprisingly, this was followed by a heated
series of strong, unfeminine curses worthy of any dock?loader. The
instrument moved again. Another scream, a little weaker this time.

"Stop that," said Mal.

Rose spoke into the pencil. "All right, Russell, that's enough. Don't
damage her." The screaming stopped. There were no curses this time. Just
silence.

"Use that thing in your hand, old man. Turn it off."

Rose smiled, did something to the pencil and slipped it back into his
pocket. After a second's thought, he removed it again but did not activate
the picture.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to postpone your fun for now, Russell. But
I promise you an equally interesting toy later tonight. Sorry to disappoint
you, lad. I know how you were looking forward to this."

"Aw, Uncle Rose... "

Rose tut?tutted into the mike. "Business, my young friend, business." Once
again the device was returned to the oldster's coat.

"We are about to make an exchange, then? Don't you even want to know who
she is?"

"No. I may trouble to find out later; I don't now." The shipmaster
obviously did not wish to talk.

"I'd think you might." His Lordship's leer invited a helping of knuckles.
Mal had practiced controlling himself too long to let it lapse now.

"As to the protocol of exchange," began Rose briskly, "I'm a reasonable
man. Things will be kept simple. Oh, you might promise me the young lady's
silence in this matter. She is a government operative and will be difficult
to convince. Likewise her furry friend. But I have confidence something
workable can be arranged. It's a little thing now, anyway."

"Yeah," said Mal. He was staring at the converted video.

"So." Rose moved to a complex?looking desk and produced a small book with a
pressure seal. He activated it with a twist, began riffling pages. "I don't
expect you to have someone deliver the stuff to my front door, as one would
receive dinner at his home in the city. I'll supply you the address of an
operative of mine near the main Port, in Repler City. As soon as the case
is delivered intact into his possession and he considers himself safe you
may keep the spices if you prefer, they're quite good- you, the young lady,
and her friend will be permitted to board your craft. You will call your
pilot and explain the delay. My men will do nothing to make him believe
things are other than normal. You may consider escape, if you wish. Quite
impossible.

"You will be released, as stated, when my operative cannot be touched by
the weaponry of the City. At that point he will be here before you can
reach safety and/or notify patrol craft to try and intercept him. My word
on this. I've never broken it where business is concerned. You may think me
a nasty fellow, but I'm an honest nasty fellow. I won't shoot you in the
back?for at least a day. Then I will do my level best to see you
exterminated."

"How kind you are," Mal muttered. He stood. "You're really going to let the
girl and her friend go? I can't guarantee her silence."

"About that, now. Just keep her from contacting her superiors for, oh,
three days local time. Then I'll consider that part of the agreement
fulfilled. At that point she can babble her pretty head off. The Church
will understand. No court would prosecute you. You see, I will have
relocated myself by that time. The mere fact that an operative of her age
was able to penetrate this far indicates that my business position here has
become untenable. Apparently the local intelligence?damn that bug!?knew
quite a lot, but weren't sure what lot was what."

"If you'll supply me with a caster, Rose, I'll notify my Mate and inform
him of procedure. He'll listen."

"How will he know you're not saying anything under the muzzle of a
blaster?" Pose asked, curious.

Mal stared down at the aged drugger. "Because he knows I wouldn't be in
that situation, mister. Either the blaster?pointer or I would be dead, so
it couldn't arise. I don't trust people with guns. They're apt to act
rashly. I'm glad you didn't opt to employ one. I want to see that girl as
soon as possible."

"Oh, she's all right. Kingsley's young, but talented. He'd barely begun.
I'll see that you and she are put in the same room. In fact, I insist on
it. You may find this arrangement more to your profit in the end. I would.
Although I don't believe the pretty?pretty will be in the mood for idle
conversation for a while. Or anything else." He gestured at the video. "As
I said, my young friend is talented. Still, he hasn't yet acquired the
delicacy off touch long practice brings."

Mal held up a massive fist, held it out where hose could get a good look at
it. "Let's skip the morbid dialogue, shall we? In the interests of logic.
Otherwise you may push me to the point of breaking your scrawny neck. That
might throw a crimp on the whole elaborate deal, mightn't it?" He took a
step towards the dragger.

Instinctively, Rose stepped back. "Um, yes, it could complicate things if I
were to prematurely pass on. This way, if you will."



Mal sat in a chair in the single room to which they'd all been confined.
Dressed now, the tall girl lay sleeping on the couch across from him. She'd
been treated and given a mild sedative. He didn't look at her. Porsupah,
the Tolian, was busy at a single cabinet. He was mixing something liquid
that had a faint aroma of sage. He walked over to the girl and gently shook
her. Instead of talking he handed her the glass. Taking it without a
question, she sipped, glanced up at the smiling Tolian, and downed the rest
in a series of long swallows.

"Whew! What was in that, you offspring of a cometcat?"

"Sorry, culinary secrets are reserved. Clan oaths, you know."

"Clan oaths, my sweet Aunt's grape guise!" She blinked several times.
"Whoo!"

"What a quaint remarking!" said Porsupah. "That is a bit of terranglish
slang that's completely new to me."

"It's not really accepted slang, Pors. My Aunt ... Jo, on my father's side
... was really sweet. She also drew produce from grapes. Only it wasn't
exactly ... well, the vines wouldn't have recognized the results of their
efforts by the time she was finished with them. My father used to swear by
it."

She swung her long legs off the couch, wincing slightly. She breathed long
and evenly. At this point she seemed to notice Hammurabi for the first
time.

"Thanks ... whoever you are." Her gaze was direct, the feeling of
thankfulness clear as quartz. It made him acutely uncomfortable. He
squirmed. He'd hoped that when she sat up her evening outfit would show a
little less flesh. No such luck. Gravity and the manufacturer conspired
against it. Not that he'd mind, ordinarily. But whatever their situation
was, it was not ordinary. He didn't need anything taking his mind off the
business at hand. Speaking of business and hands . . . there, see?

Despite the ordeal she'd just undergone, the girl was reacting calmly. This
also was not ordinary. He couldn't rationalize it. This also made him
nervous.

She was staring at him. "Well, telepathize my thighs if you must, but say
something! I'm not asking for a biography, you know."

"Qua? Oh name's Hammurabi. Malco ... Mal Hammurabi. I'm captain and owner
of the free?freighter Umbra. Puts you one up on me."

"Kitten Kai?sung. And scrunching your eyebrows down like that doesn't hide
your line of sight at all."

"Sun?father!" Mal sighed in frustration. He continued, a mite
belligerently. "Does my staring at your legs make you so full?fission
nervous?"

"No. Does it make you nervous?"

"Yes, goddammit, and we're not in a position where I can spare time to do
proper appreciation to them, and that makes me a deal more upset!"

Kitten rubbed the edge of her right index finger slowly over her lower lip.

"What sort of alternate position did you have in mind?"

"Give it up, Captain," advised Porsupah, drink comfortably in hand. "She'll
drive you to null?hike."

"Meaning I'm not free?floating already?" Mal responded. The pseudo?pserious
atmosphere broke like a light fog, dissolving into laughter. No one minded
that it tended a little too much to the hysterical.

"Okay," Kitten said finally, gasping. "Truce declared. Lieutenant Porsupah
here and I are both in the Intelligence Arm of the United Church. If that
old bugger has this place wired he's welcome to the information, since your
presence has apparently persuaded him to let us live.". She glanced at her
partner, then back at Mal. "Might as well tell you that our purpose was to
try and tie this creature Rose to renewed traffic in bloodhype, an
especially vile drug."

"We were discovered through one of those careless little slips that always
happen to other operatives," Porsupah continued philosophically. "It's
always the little slips. Of the myriad jukill ways to ruin an assignment!
And we as much as had sealed proof that he was running the stuff through
Repler! I don't mind telling you, friend, you pulled us out of a
whisker?thin spot." The appendages in question gave a humorous twitch.

"Now, don't get me started again," said Mal, grinning. "If it's any
consolation, you were lined out the right way. I've seen a shipment.
Several grams worth."

"You have?" Kitten shouted excitedly. She shot to her feet, then bunched
over suddenly. She sat down slowly, muttering. After an uncomfortable
silence she looked up and continued as though nothing had happened.

"There are several things I must do when we get out of here, Captain. One
of the first is to shut off?as slowly as possible?a narcissistic amalgam of
fermented proteins named Russell Kingsley."

Mal perked up more, interested. "So that was old man Kingsley's boy? I'd
heard about him. Appears they weren't all rumors. Only the good things. You
work for a man and you really only know him professionally."

Now it was Porsupah's turn to express interest. "You are friends of the
family, then?"

"Only as far as the bank. I'm on Repler now because the Umbra's making
delivery on a major shipment for Chatham Kingsley Fisheries and Goods, Ltd.
The old man's a bit of a decadent type himself, but only healthy stuff. I
really don't think he's aware that his itty?bitty baby boy's a romping
sadist. Mother died when the boy was a kid. I'd assume Russell's been left
to develop his own life?style since then."

"I'm touched," said Kitten in a voice that would chill molten copper.

"He does dote on the kid," Mal added.

"I am sorry for that," she continued in the same tones. "I had hoped his
imminent extinction wouldn't inconvenience anyone else. I still can't
really believe it would. Still," she continued a little easier, "to know
that you've actually seen the stuff ... "

"About that. Appears that Rose's latest shipment accidentally got mixed in
with Kingsley's cargo. Mixup was discovered accidentally by Rose,
intentionally by two of his operatives, and accidentally by me. I came here
with the idea of striking a bargain: In return for him halting traffic in
the jaster, I wouldn't go to the authorities with enough warrant for a
mindwipe. Don't get me wrong. Most drugs I could care less about?let the
idiots who need them have 'em. May they kill themselves off quickly and
quietly. Bloodhype is something else. It sheds filth on everyone who's seen
what it does. I've seen ... but instead, I had to use it to bargain you two
out. He fully intended to kill you, you know."

"You still shouldn't have agreed to it," Kitten said.

"You had no say in the matter," replied Mal.

"Suppose I kill myself now and Porsupah does likewise?"

"Fine. Then he threatens to kill me unless I have the drug turned over to
him. If you take away his major bargaining point he'll forget niceties and
try something like that. And I'd give him the drug to save myself, selfish
fella that I am."

"I see." She sighed deeply. "I apologize for the difficulty we've caused
you, Captain Hammurabi."

"Mal," he said.

"All right ... Captain Mal." She grinned, frowned, got confused. "I can't
let you do it. Do you really know what that stuff does to people?"

"A good deal better than you, I suspect, infant."

"Call me that again and I'll break your arm."

Mal smiled. "Might be you could at that. Point remains, however, that I've
already made arrangements for the exchange to be carried out."

"There's no way to cancel it?" Porsupah interrupted.

"Oh, if I could get to a transceiver?say, the one on the raft that brought
me?before Rose's contact receives the drugs, it could be done. I'd consider
that a very unlikely possibility, however?even if I wanted to do it, which
I don't. See, I intend not only to save my own life but yours too. Even if
you don't appear to value it too highly."

"It remains a question of proportion, Captain," began the Tolian
philosophically. "The number of lives at stake here far exceeds three. And
despite what you may think, I happen to have become quite attached to
mine."

"Right on both counts," Kitten added.

Mal was getting a bit exasperated. This damsel?in?distress was not reacting
properly at the prospect of salvation.

"Listen, you altruistic femin ...!" he began heatedly.

She glared back at him, and seemed quite willing to shift the argument to a
physical level.

Auspiciously, the door chimed. Porsupah threw them both a look that was
more wilting than any words could have been, and they relaxed?somewhat. The
Tolian spoke towards the door pickup.

"We can't lock ourselves in, you know."

The panel slid back to reveal the tall figure of Mal's young guide. The
youth carried a tray filled with a multitude of small dishes: white?brown
shellfish, bread, several kinds of butter and other condiments, cinnamon
bark, steamed tubers, smoked snails ...

"They called me to the kitchen," he said as he set down the tray, "and
ordered me to bring this to you."

Porsupah and Kitten saw the flying snake at the same time. They froze.

"Don't worry," said Mal easily. "It seems pretty tame."

"I know what one of those things can do," replied Kitten as she edged over
towards Mal. "Victims don't die easily." He resisted an impulse to put an
arm around her. She might decide to break it.

The youth straightened and turned to leave, then paused and looked back at
Mal.

"You're being restrained against your will, aren't you?"

"I'd sort of think it was obvious," said Kitten.

"Not necessarily. His Lordship often has guests whose status is not what it
seems." He rubbed the scales at the back of his pet's head. The snake
looked up, then relaxed on the lanky shoulder.

"I might say that I know about the drug, sir." Three faces looked up in
surprise. "Your arrival has made it easier for me to find out some things
I'd been curious about for a long time. It's not very pretty." There was a
long pause, then the youngster stared sharply at Mal. "If I help you
escape, will you promise to see that something's done about it? The drug, I
mean."

Kitten leaned forward eagerly. "You really think you can get us out of
here?"

Philip smiled at her most unyouthfully. "If you don't fear a fair chance of
getting shot, electrocuted, or drowned, yes."

"You know a way out of this maze, we'll try it," Mal replied.

"Not only wilt we see about the drug," added Kitten coaxingly, "but I'm
sure the government will arrange something material ha the way of
gratitude."

"And protection from whatever is left of Rose's petty empire when the
Church finishes with it," added Porsupah.

The youngster looked over at the much smaller alien. When he spoke again,
his voice was a good octave higher and the words momentarily
unrecognizable. Mal knew a little Tolian, as he did about half a hundred
languages. Only enough to trade by, though. The musical syllables rolled
off the youth's palate fluidly and without hesitation.

Philip broke off in what seemed an abrupt manner but probably wasn't. He
left, the panel sliding shut quietly behind him.

"Well," said Kitten, "what was that all about?"

"His High Tolite is excellent, really remarkable. He even has the
diphthongs down, the epiglottal stops, everything."

"I'm sure he can rattle off the local equivalents of c?a?t and d?o?g
without a second breath," said Kitten, "but what did he say?"

Mal was looking at the closed portal. "Rather surprising talent to find in
an apprentice sanitation engineer, wouldn't you say?"

"Is that what he is?" asked Porsupah. "'Well, besides exchanging a regional
prayer with me?nice to hear the amenities again?he just asked us to wait.
Said he'd return soon and to be ready. He reiterated his feelings about the
drug traffic and disclaimed any need for protection. Said he would take
care of himself."

"Also pretty cocky for an apprentice sanitation engineer," Kitten said. "No
matter, if he can slip us out."

"He added that he hoped both of you were strong swimmers." Porsupah sat
down and began to remove his flexible mukluks. He wiggled each webbed bind
foot as it appeared. "The question, of course, did not arise in respect to
myself."

"Really think he can get us out?" Mal queried. He was interested in the
little alien's opinion of their youthful benefactor.

"Why ask me?" Naked, the furry Tolian walked over to the table where the
tray of delicacies had been set. He commenced a serious study of the smoked
escargot.

"I can say with assurance, however, that I intend to do nothing for the
next several minutes, barring earthquake or Redemption, but eat. I've had
nothing in my belly since we arrived here save memories."

"Just don't overdo it," said Kitten, moving to join him. "It seems we're in
for an extensive journey by water. And if you get a cramp out there, I'm
sure as hell not towing you."



They were down to the last pair of hors d' oeuvres and Mal was dreaming of
distant steaks when the youngster returned. His clothes were dirty, with
patches of grime and oil staining the coveralls. The flying snake was
perched on its same shoulder. It was coiled tight, the triangular head
holding steady and unwinking a foot in the air. The pleated wings were only
half furled, ready for instant flight. The snake gave them a soulless once
over, decided that no one in the room was a candidate for instant
destruction, and relaxed somewhat.

Philip's voice was low and he was panting hard but evenly.

"After me now, quickly!" Without looking back he turned and left.

They followed. In the lead, Mal saw that the youth was already at the end
of one hallway, waiting where it intersected another. As soon as he spotted
Mal, the youngster disappeared around the corner. He reappeared a moment
later and beckoned urgently. They ran to join him.

"Stay low and quiet, and along the far side," he whispered. "And watch out
for the bodies."

He turned and led them up a corridor.

They passed several doors, all unopened. Once their guide gestured for a
halt and they all froze while voices got louder somewhere up ahead, then
faded. They continued forward. The only sound was of controlled breathing.
They came to a door set in a low recess, which was slightly ajar. Philip
disappeared inside, returned almost immediately. Kitten and Mal both had to
stoop to get through the sub?two?meter overhead. Mal noticed the metal
engraving in the door.

                       BIOENGINEERING PERSONNEL ONLY

                           ADMITTANCE RESTRICTED

Besides bending, Mal and Kitten had to step high to avoid stumbling over
the two corpses that lay crumpled just inside the entrance. Even in the dim
light Mal could tell how one had died, from the unnatural angle at which
his head rested. Dressed in mechanic's overalls, the other lay prone with
an unfired sonic pistol in one hand. His other hand covered most of his
face. Which was just as well, if the long grooves seared into the revealed
cheek were any indication of what lay beneath. Milk?white bone gleamed at
the bottom of one groove. The muscles in the man's face and arm were frozen
at full contraction. What the hand covered would not be pretty, no. The
flying snake had been at work here.

Kitten was busy examining the numerous long tunnels which led from the
small room. Clearly they were in the maintenance arteries of the island.
Water trickled along the floor of several dark corridors, disappeared into
unseen drains. The natural stone walls were damp at the entrances to some,
hot and dry at others. None rose higher than the cramping height of the
room they were in. Philip turned without speaking and plunged down the one
closest on their left. At least it was a little wider, if not really
spacious.

There was barely enough light from the widely spaced red fluorescents to
make out the form of the lanky youth moving ahead of them. The otherworldly
figure moved with a slightly bloody tinge to it from the safety lights. It
was leading them who knew where? Maybe it was all a stunt of then captor's.
Kitten had experienced his sense of humor. Maybe he'd decided on some
especially gruesome way of disposing of them, decided it would be safer to
write off the fabulously profitable shipment?unlikely as it seemed. At any
moment their guide could disappear around a turn, leaving them to wander in
a maze of filthy underground passages among unseen terrors while Rose's
whining laugh echoed from hidden speakers.

She found herself dripping inside the fancy evening dress. It had not been
designed for running over slippery floors in a hunched over position.

"Too frigging humid!" she muttered.

"Nonsense!" replied the disgustingly cheery voice of the Tolian. Excepting
its lack of large land masses, Repler was much like his home world. Like
many races, however, the Tolians did not go in for colonization on any
significant scale.

"If it bothers you, just think bow nice and dry you were a short while
ago?on his Lordship's playtable."

"You're not being funny," Kitten replied, panting heavily now. No doubt the
damn tunnel ran out under the ocean and they'd run like this all the way to
Repler City. "How'd you like me to tie knots in your whiskers?"

"Have to catch me first." The little alien was the only one whom the low
ceiling didn't inconvenience. He had plenty of room. His webbed feet made
loud slapping sounds, like sponges, wherever they hit the trickle of water
which flowed along the center of the floor.

"Where does this highway lead, anyway?" asked Mal. Kitten stared at him
enviously. Despite his huge bulk, he didn't even appear to be breathing
hard "And where does this water come from?"

The youngster's voice drifted back from close ahead. "Condensation. The
tunnel?this one, anyway?is a service access to the sewage plant. Both the
intake for fresh water and the outlets for treated sewage are monitored
from there. Each has an electrified gate at the end which is controlled by
the master island defense computer. But they can both be shut down from the
plant for up to an hour. If I can cut the power to the gates from the plant
console, I can probably also power down the alarms without alerting anyone.
That way, if someone comes in and inspects the system after we've started
out, nothing will seem amiss. Unless he thinks to check the gate power
lights, in which case we'd be finished. But since the entire system is
automatic, that's not likely. We shouldn't have any trouble."

"He says," added Mal sardonically. Even he was beginning to pant a little
now. "Assuming all this works, how do we get from the plant to the
hoveraft?"

"One outtake tunnel comes out at the mouth of the harbor inlet. The gates
at the end of each are designed more to keep out undesirable marine fauna
than intelligent beings. It's an efficient design but not very
sophisticated. From the gate it's a chart swim to the landings. While
powerful, the real island defenses are located further out. And don't worry
about the water. Compared to the seas of most worlds, the salt content here
is very low. Of course, the treated sewage, while thoroughly sanitized and
thinned, wouldn't taste particularly good."

"Oh thanks," said Kitten drily. "I'll keep that in mind."

The tunnel made another sharp bend. Abruptly they found themselves in a
small, well?lit room full of banks of automated machinery. Mal and Kitten
stretched luxuriously.

Down a short, broad rampway to their right were two wide channels of water,
one slightly greener than the other. Clear plastic domed above both. One
end disappeared into the floor, while the other flowed off into a black
hole in the stone wall. Philip noticed Mal's stare.

"The one on the left carries out the treated sewage. The other draws in
seawater for purification."

"Surely the two don't open to the ocean next to each other," asked
Porsupah.

"No. The intake channel leads out almost at a right angle from here. It
opens on an untouched section of coast. The sewage channel exits near the
inlet. The current is strongest there and aids in carrying the mixture out
to sea. We'll be hugging the shore there, so the current shouldn't bother
us. And swimming out with a current will help considerably. I don't know if
we could make it against the intake pumps ... The roof of both tunnels is
uneven, but air shouldn't be a problem."

"What do you mean, `shouldn't be'?" Kitten asked.

"Well," Philip glanced at his wrist chronometer, "it ought to be getting
dark out by now. I didn't get a chance to look at any tide tables, and to
ask would have been awkward, let alone suspicious. Sometimes when both
moons are in the sky and Aug. is at its highest, the water level rises all
the way to the roof of the channel.

"Not a drawback," said Porsupah to Kitten. "It'll do you well to hold your
breath for a while."

She looked at him appraisingly. "I don't know whether to start with the
whiskers on the left or the right. What do you think, Captain?"

But Mal was watching Philip. The youth had already removed the metal panel
that protected one heavily intrumented locker. He'd magically produced
several complex but tiny tools, including one intricate?looking screwdriver
affair with a head that was geometrically insane.

Philip put the tools neatly aside, looked up. "Captain, I think you ought
to station yourself by that door over there." He added apologetically,
"It's the only entrance from the complex proper. Miss Kai?sung,
Porsupah?al, if you could remove a section of that plastic doming large
enough for us to slip through, it would save a little time. The left?hand
channel?there are transparent pressure sensitive bolts on each side. It
takes four, two to a side, to release one section."

Mal was sure the minutes were not being split into 60 equal parts. He found
himself glancing anxiously from the access tunnel they'd used to the single
doorway, then back to Porsupah and Kitten, who were working feverishly on
their second bolt. Not having been removed for some time, the bolts were
proving stubborn.

After a while, he found himself watching their guide intently. The
youngster was working quickly and steadily. The long fingers moved
spiderlike over the web off wiring, impulsistors, solid and fluid state
components.

"Think we've been missed?" he asked.

"There's no way of knowing whether anyone's been ordered to visit you after
I delivered the food," said Philip without looking up from his work. "I do
know that there wasn't any tridee pickup in your, suite. It doesn't make
any difference now. I don't advise going back to check on it."

Mal wasn't surprised to see that the youth was sweating heavily. Whether
from the concentration he was applying to his work or from nervousness, he
couldn't tell.

The young engineer worked carefully now. "I just negated the alarm system.
It should only take a minute now to cut power to the sewage gate?damn
obsolete solid switches..."

"Isn't there an override on the computer for emergencies?like an
unauthorized interruption in the power flow?" Kitten asked.

"This is where it would be managed. I'm handling that, too. It's tricky ...
I'm more worried about someone coming in while we're trying to swim the
gate and switching power back on. We'd still get out ... well done."

"Hey, what ... ?"

Mal didn't think, didn't look. He whirled and chopped bard, using his
weight. The man never finished the sentence. Mal had become so absorbed
with Philip's manipulations of computer innards he'd completely forgotten
he was supposed to be watching the door. The man had entered unseen and
uttered the single exclamation of surprise. Now he was lying motionless
against the half open portal.

Mal carefully closed the door, repressing an almost overpowering desire to
look out and see if anyone else was beyond. He turned and bent over the
fallen figure in the green biotech uniform.

"I didn't mean to hit him so hard," he said quietly. "He startled me."

"Yes," said Philip. He craned his neck for a better look, turned back to
the console. "I believe you've broken his neck. Remind me to announce
myself in advance if we're ever to meet on a dark street." He carefully
replaced the exopanel and stood up, brushing his hands. "No sense letting
them know what sections have beefs toyed with." He looked over at Kitten
and Porsupah. "How are you coming with that doming?"

"A second," said Kitten, struggling on the last bolt. It came loose with a
soft pop as the vacuum was broken. Together they lifted the released
section and slid it over the doming in front. The revealed space left
plenty of room for even Hammurabi to slip through with centimeters to
spare.

Mal took a step towards the channel, then paused and looked at Philip.

"Yes, I concur, Captain." Mal nodded and went back for the body of the dead
technician.

"Even if they've discovered our absence, they'll have no reason to suspect
you've come this way," the youngster continued. "There are dozens of
branches leading from the maintenance pod we entered."

"Let's discuss it later, over a mug of hot ceebeetea at some suitable city
saloon," Mal said, hefting the corpse over his shoulders. Porsupah and
Kitten had already slipped into the greenish liquid. They waded easily into
the deep channel, holding onto projections from the sides to prevent the
light current from pulling them down the dark cave.

"What do I do with the body? Like you say, the current carries sewage away.
But this island isn't big. I wouldn't want some detection device to
discover it floating about Rose's defense perimeter white we're trying to
reach the raft."

"When we leave the gate, I'll hold it up while you center it underneath,"
said Philip. "The grating will pin it on the bottom securely enough." He
put a hand on either side of the opening, slipped into the gentle flow.
"I'm going to replace the panel from underneath. Since the bolts are clear
plasticine, too, it won't show tampering unless someone looks hard right at
the seals."

"You're awfully proficient at escapes for ..."

"... an apprentice sanitation engineer?" The youngster grinned. He helped
Mal lower the limp body into the water. "I read a lot of cheap adventure
stories." He reached up. Despite his height, he had to jump to grab hold of
the edge of the removed section of doming. Successive jerks and tugs, with
Mal holding him around the hips, slid it neatly back in place over their
heads.

"What about this `gate' you keep talking about?" asked Kitten. "With the
power turned off, will it open?"

"Oh, it can be raised manually, all right. The positive charge it normally
carries is considered sufficient to discourage nosy visitors, intelligent
or otherwise. Nothing so crude as a manual lock on it." He turned and let
himself drift into the brackish flow, moving easily with an occasional
long, sinuous stroke. The others followed.

The water in the channel was comfortably warm, a carry?over from the sewage
sterilization procedure. Still, Kitten found herself shivering slightly.
There were no lights in the long cave and darkness was total. She swam with
slow strokes, letting the current do most of the work. Now and then her
hand would give notice of a slight bend in the channel. The youth hadn't
mentioned anything about side tunnels, so she wasn't afraid of fumbling off
into some fish?trap or heat chamber?much. She could sense pressure waves
from a large mass moving parallel on her right. The faintly neanderthalic
ship?captain, no doubt. She recalled how easily, accidentally, the big man
had snapped the technician's neck, and mentally resolved to put a
moratorium on all threats of arm?breaking.

Porsupah was somewhere behind. Being capable of swimming circles around any
of them, it was decided that he should follow at a distance. This would
enable him to give them a little time if any pursuit should develop. That
beggared the fact that there wasn't a thing they could do about such
pursuit, but it seemed too reasonable an idea to ignore.

Somewhere up ahead their youthful guide felt for a gate that might or might
not be charged with lethal current. She took another breath. He'd been
right about the tides. In some places there wasn't enough room to get one's
head above water. In such spots she had to turn on her back. Then she would
drift with only the upper part of her face above water, sometimes scraping
the cold stone of the roof as she drew in long draughts of moist, stale
air. Then it was turn, dive, and swim, heading for the next air pocket,
pushing off the wall for a little extra distance and hoping she wouldn't
miss it.

That happened only once. She surfaced and the air pocket was a blob of
water?weed. She had to swim frantically ahead until a small pocket
appeared. Panic would have used too much air, so she stayed ever so calm.

It was indeed totally black?cave?black, coal?sack black?in that tunnel.
Blacker than the inside of your eyelids when closed. The only light in that
mile?long, days long swim was the glow from her own wrist chronometer. A
numerical firefly, it followed obediently, seeming a separate existence and
not a part of her arm.

A few eons later, her outstretched right hand encountered something hard
and cold. There was enough clearance so that her shoulders could rise out
of the water. She held onto the grating for several seconds. Then she
remembered that if certain circuits were reconnected, thousands of volts
could shoot through the damp steel. She let go hurriedly. A voice sounded
on her right.

"Hinges are a little stiff, Miss Kai?sung." It was Philip. "Ah, there!"

A moment later something broke the surface on her left with a loud whoosh.
It was Hammurabi. He was followed seconds later by a thin whistle:
Porsupah. Even the Tolian was panting. Not because of fatigue, but because
the air here was anything but fresh.

"Everyone okay? All right, I'm going down to lift the gate," said the
youngster. "Miss Kai?sung, you and Porsupah?al wait ten seconds and come
after me. This tunnel descends slightly and then opens into the sea. It's
not a long drop, just deep enough to ensure that the outlet opening is
always hidden from surface view. The shore here is pretty rocky. Find a
spot shielded from land. Captain, after they've slipped out I'll resurface
inside. Then you follow me down. I'll be holding the grating open from the
sea side. When you feel the bottom of the grate, tap it with your watch and
trail the body just behind you. I'll hear it and let the gate drop. It
ought to hold the corpse to the seafloor solidly."

Without waiting for comment the youth hyperventilated, then ducked under.
Porsupah and Kitten counted off the seconds together and followed. Water
splashed the perpetually moist walls and Mal's face. Several millennia
later Mal heard the youngster break surface.

"Ready, Captain?"

Mal took an unbreakable grip on the corpse's neck with his right hand. "One
question. I'm no herpetologist, but I don't recall noticing any gills on
your scaly companion."

"Oh, Pip? I discovered?quite by accident?that he can go without oxygen for
a surprising amount of time. Some day I'll run across a xenoherpetologist
who can explain it to me. I'm going now." Deep breathing, an echoing splash
in the confining air bubble. Mal followed shortly, the tech's body a
tugging, naggingly buoyant parasite. Fortunately, as Philip had said, the
gate didn't go deep. He felt for and encountered the prongs at the bottom
of the grating. Carefully, he eased the body bellyup against them, then
tapped one?two?three times with his wristband. The grating immediately
dropped with surprising speed, pinning the unlucky, unnamed man to the
muddy channel bottom.

Immediately Mal turned and swam, away and downward. He could feel pressure
waves from another body swimming alongside. The shipmaster had a moment of
worry. When the power to the gate was switched back on, the body jamming it
open ought to trigger every alarm on the island.

But by that time they'd be long gone.

They'd better be. The two men broke the surface together. Only one moon was
still in the sky, but there was enough light to make out two dim figures on
shore, huddled close by an overhanging block of gneiss. Two shadowed faces,
one human and the other not, stared back. Mal and Philip swam over and
hugged the boulder, catching their breath.

"Nice to breathe fresh air again," said Mal,

"Yeah. I'd like to rest too, but in the city. I'll feel a lot better when
were on board that hoveraft of yours."

"Which direction is the inlet?" Kitten whispered. "My Sense of direction is
scrambled:"

"Just around that point," the youngster replied, pointing ahead. "The
island's not very big, but parts of the complex go quite deep. Miss
Kai?sung, you and Porsupah] don't know where the Captain's raft is beached,
so be sure and stay close. The harbor is crowded enough to be confusing."

"Don't lecture me, my skinny samaritan. I'm a big girl now."

"What about harbor patrols and interior alarms?" Mal asked, to change the
subject.

"Aren't many this close in. There is a transceiving shield, quite
illegal?and efficient. Our best bet, therefore, is to get out of the
landing proper and skim like hell until we pass the defense perimeter. Then
we can cast unblocked to the Rectory in the city. Once they pick us up, his
Lordship should be too busy packing to worry about us."

"You hope," said Kitten.

"The best of all possibilities," he replied. He began paddling towards the
point of land he'd indicated.

"Any other vessels expected tonight?" Mal asked, swimming close behind.

"I don't know for sure, but I don't believe so. Why?"

"Going by your description of Rose's setup and what I know of similar ones,
this defensive situation is designed primarily for detecting boats trying
to get in. It just might ignore any going out. With luck it will be quite a
while before anyone notices our disappearance."

As they moved up the inlet, hugging the shoreline, Kitten couldn't escape
the feeling that Rose was watching from somewhere in the trees. At any
moment a light would lance out from the shadows and spear them with its
unblinking glare. But they reached the raft landing without anything other
than a few disturbed mollusks detecting their passage.

There were few lights on at the artificial beach. Nothing moved. Philip led
the way up the pebbled plastic sand cover. No one stopped him to ask what a
sanitation engineer was doing out for a late?night swim?in full workwear. A
gesture brought the others out of the water. Slick and hard, the plastic
gave excellent purchase to hover vehicles. The little group had no trouble
making their way towards the beached rafts, although there were places
where some frantic scrambling was necessary. They huddled next to the
deflated sac of one raft.

"I can make out one guard at the head of the loading pier," Philip
whispered. "We ought to be able to slip inside your craft without his
noticing us."

"I'd rather make sure he doesn't," said Mal. He disappeared quietly under
the metal piering. Several minutes passed while the others waited and the
moonlight grew dimmer. The dot that represented the guard abruptly doubled
in size, then disappeared completely. After a short pause, Mal's voice
floated across from the rampway of his raft.

"All clear now. Philip, you boost Miss Kai?sung and Porsupah up, then I'll
pull you in."

It was a short dash to the side of the raft. Kitten felt two massive hands
envelop her wrists. Suddenly she was standing on the ramp alongside the
Captain. A second later Porsupah, then Philip, appeared.

"What about the guard?" Philip asked.

Mal was opening the lock. "Under the pier, in a clump of bushes. He
shouldn't be spotted. Still, he might be required to report in on who knows
what schedule? We'd better move." He noticed the young man's gaze still on
him. "No, I didn't kill him."

The door swung back to reveal bright light and the muzzle of a small gun.
It was wielded, fortunately, by a familiar small man.

"You gave me a start, Captain," said First Mate Takaharu. "I wish you'd
apprise me in advance of these middle?of?the?night parties."

Mal moved past him to the center control console. He flipped switches,
began warming the drive fans as gradually and quietly as possible. "Wasn't
practical this time, either, Maijib. Neighbors would have resented not
being invited. Lieutenants Kitten Kai?sung and Porsupah, Philip?my First
Mate, Maijib Takaharu. You should all exchange greetings later, but just
now let's get the shining hell out of here ...." He gunned the engines all
at once, throwing everyone for the nearest support.

The raft backed at high speed into the water, sending a shower of spray
across the inlet. Gears whining in protest, the little craft spun 360.
Skimming the surface at 200 kph, it kicked up a wall of faintly
phosphorescent spray as it shot out of the harbor. A few night?prowling
mudducks saw it go.



"I don't recall sending for you, technician."

The man in the blue serge uniform was obviously badly frightened. Also out
of breath. "Your pardon, Lord. The two suspected Church agents and the
freighter Captain you ordered held with them have disappeared."

Two birds sang in a cage to one side of the room. Rose turned and stared at
them. One was bright blue, slightly milky like chalcedony. The other was a
mottled yellow. He watched them for a while before pivoting back to face
the tech.

"They've left the island." It was not a question.

"It must be so, Lord. The hoveraft the freighter Captain arrived in is
missing from its landing. The guard assigned to watch was found under the
piering nearby. He was paralyzed, but the meditech believes he will
recover."

"How awkward all around," Rose replied evenly. He had given no evidence of
upset, evinced no loss of control. He was too old for that now. "Is it
known how this was done?"

"Two men stationed near the confining suite were found dead in a service
alcove. A check of the central recorder indicates that a portion of the
immediate island restricted perimeter, specifically the gates protecting
the water intake and sewage outlet channels, were powered down for some
thirty minutes earlier this morning. A subsequent check of personnel
revealed that two men, an apprentice sanitation engineer and a senior
biotech, were missing. The body of the latter was discovered jamming open
the gate guarding the sewage outflow channel. Also, one of the first two
fatalities displayed clear evidence of both acid attack and nerve poison.
The engineer was known to keep a poisonous reptile with him at all times."

"Quite ingenious,". Rose murmured. He turned and depressed one of many
switches set inconspicuously in the arm of a luxuriously upholstered couch.
The ceiling of the exquisitely wrought bird cage began to move gently
downwards.

Rose spoke without turning. "Any indication of how long ago the craft left
the harbor?"

"Computing from the time of the power lapse and that of the pier guard's
last report, Lord, it is estimated they have been gone now for about an
hour."

"Far too long for any of our exterior defenses to be in range. Hmmm." The
space inside the cage had been reduced by about half. The faint hum of a
small electric motor could be heard. The song of the blue bird had grown
uneven.

"This has been checked, of course?"

"Immediately, your Lordship. They are nowhere within the perimeter."

There was barely enough room now in the cage for the birds to stand
upright. The mottled yellow was bouncing frantically between the unmoving
floor and the descending roof. The blue's song had risen to a series of
hysterical chirps and squeaks.

"I will be forced to run off?planet."

"An attempt to slip you into the Port could be best made now, Lord. Or
arrangements might be made for a daring shuttle pilot to try and pick you
up from one of the larger uninhabited islands."

Rose shook his head sadly.

"As soon as Major Orvenalix receives the report of those two agents, the
first thing he will do is relay a full order to the customs' frigate. If he
hasn't done so already. They'll relay his request to the nearest Navy port
for a cruiser and a flock of stingships. Shuttles that don't land at Repler
Port or Masonville are rare to nonexistent under any conditions. With the
word out on myself, anything large enough to produce detectable atmospheric
friction, down to a smallish meteorite, will be tracked to point of landing
from point of tangency with every scope available."

A singularly penetrating chirp emanated from somewhere between the two
layers of cage. They came together. A few barely discernable popping sounds
resulted. From between the two metal plates oozed a tiny trickle of red.
Two drops of crimson fell to the shining carpet, staining it.

Rose sighed deeply, turned back once more to the technician. "I'll want a
single?seat raft, the fastest available. There is only one way for me to
get safely off?planet in one piece. If it works, the authorities can fume
till they obscure vision. I'll be completely untouchable. Not safe,
necessarily, but untouchable. If it doesn't work out, why, my problems will
be solved and an old man will finally get some rest. For now, though, I'm
not sleepy." ?

"Will you require a driver, Lord?"

"No. I have to do this myself. You can't tell where I'm going if you don't
know. Same goes for a driver."

The man turned to leave, paused. "Luggage, your Lordship?"

"A small packing case," said Rose thoughtfully. "Change of clothing in a
collapsible packet. My credit slip, no gun. That's all."

The man paused once more by the door; "Good?bye, your Lordship."

"Good?bye, Masters. I'll be in touch?maybe."

"Sir." The blue?clad Masters closed the door quietly.



Vibrations stronger getting getting. The Vom had departed from its resting
place of centuries so precipitously that the Machine, even with its
tremendous speed, had not been able to analyze the results and react
properly with sufficient speed. However, it still retained suitable thread
of Vom?consciousness to follow it through the plenum. By the Machine's
standards, the length of the Vom's travels was not far.

The basic problem remained unsolved. The Vom had escaped its ancient
prison. The ring of monitoring stations were unpowered and sealed in fixed
orbits around the dead planet. They could not be moved. Therefore a
different solution was called for. The Guardian would have to be awakened
from his long sleep. Without that, the Machine could only analyze and
observe. It could not take action.

Not only was the situation unprecedented, there also remained the
additional problem of obtaining sufficient stimuli to activate the
Guardian. This required the mental presence of another conscious mind of an
ability that at least approached that of the Guardian himself.
Surprisingly, there was such a mentality somewhere ahead. It existed on the
very planet to which the Vom had traveled. The Machine could no more
analyze the moods and substance of that mind, however, than it could that
of the Guardian or the Vom. That was not one of its functions.

The Machine Considered. It was dealing with a quantity as vital as it was
unfamiliar and unpredictable. It would be best to bring the Guardian into
activation proximity in such a way as to make it appear natural to the
activating mind. All evidence of manipulation must be avoided. The key mind
was clearly still in a state of stabilization. If handled improperly, it
could be permanently damaged. This would be fatal.

The utilization of a number of smaller minds was implied. Fortunately,
there were a multitude of suitable ones present on and about the planet.
Operating in this fashion would also prevent tile Vom from becoming
alarmed.

A point: It would be vital not to stimulate any belligerence on the part of
the small intelligences. This could produce a crucial delay which could not
be afforded.

All in all, it seemed a feasible plan.



"Hey Ed, come 'ere, will ya?"

M'wali tossed in his suspension cradle. There wasn't another freighter
loading or unloading due for another three hundred years yet. Well, three
hours, anyway. They'd just completed an unloading about an hour ago.
Therefore his shuttle partner, Myke Reinke, should not have been calling
out to him. He should most definitely not have awakened Edward from his
sound and beautiful sleep. Edward M'wali was upset as well as up.

"Friend Reinke, do I maliciously pull you from the soothing balm of
Morpheus? Is your sleep so uneasy you must take from mine? Be your watch so
dullish that you fracture courtesy to serve your simple brain some
interest?"

A short shudder traveled the length of the ship. M'wali sensed a shift in
position and forward motion. His partner's sanity was abruptly suspect.
Moving the ship required reaction mass, ergo credits. There was no reason
to be moving the ship. The equation was simple but infuriating.

"Offspring of sand?hogs, what are you about!?"

"If you'll move your pseudo?poetic ass out of that bunk, Ed, and take a
look through the NV scope, you might see something."

M'wali considered a last possibility, discarded it. Reinke did foolish
things, but he did not, ever, drink while on duty, Still, there was a first
time for ... He floated out of the bunk and over to the control console.
When he saw what the natural vision telescope was holding in automatic
focus, all thoughts of sleep vanished.

"Oooeee! Munguenma na juaekundu! Great God and Red Sun, what is that?"

"Never seen anything like it, eh?" said Reinke evenly. His hands were
playing lightly over the controls. "Me neither. Looks like the Yellow
Giants' jackstraws as arranged by the March Hare."

"March Hare?" said M'wali, not taking his eyes off the fantastic object.

"Skip it," replied Reinke.

"Just what are you thinking of doing, anyway, partner? We might get the
shuttle inside that thing. We'd never get half of it inside the shuttle."

"Look a tittle lower. Down where those three long spines just about
intersect."

M'wali took another look at the scope. The object now took up most of the
field of vision, even though the tracker was automatically reducing
magnification as they slipped closer. Yes, there was definitely a smaller,
slightly saner looking bit of machinery floating slightly detached from the
main body, near its south pole. It would fit maybe?into the shuttle's cargo
bay.

They sat unspeaking for several minutes, staring at the approaching
object?which was actually retreating from them.

Closer inspection did not breed, familiarity. The impossible merely took on
greater detail.

"We do have a loading job in three hours. Think it's all right to shift
station to fool with this thing?"

Reinke's reply was muted. He was busy maneuvering the shuttle closer. "I
can recognize a rhetorical question when I hear one. When the boss sees
what we done gonna bring him, he'll supply us with another ship?apiece."

"I'm not picky, myself. I wish only a very small space yacht?KK drive
equipped, of course?with a platinum head."

"Kind of cold, hmmm?"

"Just to look at, idiot."

"Mighty strange taste you've developed in art."

"A direct return to the seat of human thought, you might say. Besides, all
geniuses cannot expect proper appreciation from the lower depths of the
herd."

"All right, genius," Reinke smiled. "Suppose you suit up and lay some
cables on that carp. When we've first got the thing secured we can arrange
surface transportation. Meanwhile, I'll register salvage in case any of the
other hock jockeys come nosing around. Take out a buoy first. As soon as
it's positioned I'll transceive its frequency to Port Control. Then we can
play with this thing at our leisure."

Which occasioned a brief, horrible thought. Turning to the transceiver, he
rapidly scanned normal salvage frequencies. The computer noted nothing not
previously listed in the book.

They had moved hard by the gleaming central object. It floated just above
them, relatively speaking. A gold, be?spiked, glassblower's nightmare. The
smaller body held sharp and clear out the fore port. M'wali had left to
suit up, so Reinke occupied time in studying the immediate object of their
attentions.

Interestingly, it appeared to float at the focal point of the three large,
spiky projections of the central bulk. The pylons, or whatever they were,
were a milky white, with faint shades of rose and light blue flowing across
their surfaces every now and then. Glass or ceramic, looked like.

The detached spheroid had a few knobs and projections of its own, but
nothing like the crazy?quilt above. It was pyramid?shaped. The base of the
pyramid faced the larger object.

A body composed of more familiar curves and angles entered Reinke's view
from the right. M'wali trailed vacuum cables and powerful pulse?jets behind
him. The readyspark strapped to his partner's back sparkled in the glare
from Repler's sun.

No conversation passed between the two men. None was needed. Both had
performed similar operations dozens of times. The subject was new, but the
procedure wasn't. Besides, M'wali liked quiet while he worked. He busied
about the smaller object, setting himself for the routine task of arranging
cables and jets on the alien construct.

Several moments passed. Reinke noticed that a single rectangular block,
four times the height of a man and equally deep, had separated from the
base of the pyramid. A single vacuum cable trailed from it. He perked up a
bit, flipped open the ship?to?suit comm.

"Hey Ed, what's up? Is that thing going to come apart like a jigsaw
puzzle?"

"Damnifino." M'wali's voice was sharp and clear across the intervening
vacuum. "I? got close to the thing and this thick lid or whatever
retracted. Nothing else happened, so I decided to go ahead and hook up the
first cable. When I activated it, this big hunk detached itself and pulled
right out, like a plug."

"What's it made of? Any indication of origin?"

The space?suited figure was down on the surface of the block. "Doesn't look
any more familiar close up than it did from a hundred kilometers away,
Myke. Damndest looking stuff you ever saw, though ... **fssst ... sput**
... corrugated in places, like carved fluting ... almost has a greasy look
... seems to be a port or something a little higher up ... whole thing
isn't very big ... yes, there is a transparent section ... got a reddish
tinge to it ... I can see inside, I think ... OH SWEET JESUS..."

"For summasake, man!" Reinke fairly pounded the console in frustration.
"Open up?" Heavy breathing came back over the comm. "You sonuvabitch, if
you don't say something fast?quick I'm coming out there and?"

"Easy, Myke, easy. I'm fine. Just a little shocked. Calm down. You'll need
all your expletives later."

"Okay, I'm calm. See? Now, what is it?" Reinke had to resist an urge to
stomp on the floor. Breaking boot connection would send him floating
helplessly about the cabin.

"It's small enough to bring back on the one cable.You'll see it soon
enough." M'wali's voice was unnaturally subdued. "And brother, don't eat
anything until you do:'



"If we weren't in such an awful hurry, I could almost enjoy the ride," Mal
said. "Despite the crowding."

The five of them cramped the small forecabin of the hoveraft badly. Mal, in
the only other seat, was trying to relax. Takaharu was handling the
driving.

There was a slightly larger space for luggage and such located behind the
forecabin, but it was completely enclosed. No one felt like sitting in the
dark just now.

"I'll be pleased to clear all this up and get back to work, Captain," said
the First Mate. "Devious intrigue isn't my line. I'm not mentally
constructed for subtlety and evasion."

"We concur," Mal replied. "Not only don't I care for it, I'm not very good
at it, either. But this young man, here . . ." he indicated the lanky form
of Philip, draped angularly over an empty packing crate.

"What will you do now, Philip?al?" asked Porsupah.

"Well, I hadn't given it much thought. I could look for another job, but I
think maybe I'll just kick around for a while. I can always get work.
Something more interesting might turn up."

"Well; you shouldn't have to worry about credit for. a time," broke in
Kitten cheerfully. "We promised you a reward in the name of the Church.
They've a special fund for such situations. Even if they disagree with our
recommendations, which they won't, they can't violate a promise made by one
of their field operatives. Let alone two." She looked over at Porsupah and
he nodded affirmatively.

"You're authorized to make that kind of decision?" asked Mal, a little
skeptically.

"Ordinarily, no. But this isn't the sort of assignment we'd ordinarily
draw."

"I'd guessed that."

"Now look," she said heatedly. "I admit Porsupah and I might not always
have been right on top of the situation . . . what are you laughing at?"

Mal had doubled over. Long, basso peals of amusement filled the cabin.

"Listen to me, he?who?struts?like?an?ape!" she yelled.

"About that reward. I'm not much in need of credit yet," Philip interrupted
hurriedly. "There wasn't much to spend on here. I've enough put away to
keep me floating for a while."

"It needn't be in the form of credit, if you wish," said Kitten, calming
slightly but still keeping a jaundiced eye on the snorting ship?Captain. He
was trying unsuccessfully to muffle his laughter. "Something equitable can
always be worked out."

"Okay, then. I want you."

Mal stopped chuckling. Porsupah only twitched his first pair of whiskers.

"I beg your pardon?" said Kitten.

The voice of the young engineer had changed slightly. It was no longer
distant, half?subservient. Not that it had deepened or changed physically.
But the inflections were different, assured, more confident.

"I said I want you. The government owes me a reward promised, in your
name."

"Well, sure, but ... hey, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Look, lad," began Mal.

"My name is Philip, Captain." He looked evenly at Mal. In certain
situations I respond to lad, kid, youngster, young fella, and many
analogous appellations. This isn't one of them. The young lady can be no
more than a year or two older than I? if that. It's rare enough that one
chances across someone so attractive, intelligent, and, yes of a compatible
size. I want to take advantage of it."

"Now just a minute, Philip?"

"Just a minute yourself, Captain," interrupted Kitten, a trifle upset. "I
don't need you or anyone else to bargain or moralize for me." She turned
and looked over at Philip. He stared back unflinchingly. "It's up to me to
decide whether I want to reject the proposal or not. Under the
circumstances, I think it carries the flavor of an almost forgotten
gallantry. Not to mention compliment. I accept your offer, Philip."

"Thank you, Miss Kai?sung," he replied gravely, executing an awkward
half?bow.

"Under the circumstances, don't you think you ought to," she glanced archly
at Mal, "call me by my first name?"

"Agreed ... Kitten." He smiled broadly.

"You're quite right," Mal said evenly. "It's none of my business. Go and
fantasize, if you will."

Kitten stood up and stretched ... lazily, languorously. Mal gazed
unswervingly at the ocean, which gazed back.

"There's room in the storage area, wouldn't you say, Philip?"

"I believe so, Kitten." He unfolded himself, extended a hand. She took it.

"See you shortly, gentlemen. This won't take long." She pulled the sliding
panel closed behind them.

Takaham hadn't budged throughout the entire exchange. Mal continued an
unprecedented fascination with the sea. Porsupah stifled a laugh.

"You'd best get used to this if you expect to be around sweet Kitten
awhile, Captain," the Tolian offered. His whiskers twitched. "I don't doubt
that she agreed partially to enjoy your anticipated reaction. You came
through in marvelous style."

"Thanks," Hammurabi said drily.

"Which brings me to another point, Captain." The alien took another glance
at the ocean, then the console panel. "It occurs to me that we are not
headed northward any longer."

"Right. However, that's the way we shall go."

"Yet that is not the way to Will's Landing."

"Two straight Lieutenant. Very good."

Porsupah pondered a moment longer before replying.

"Forgive me, Captain. I had believed my terranglo beyond reproach. Yet
there seems to be a nuance here that I fail to grasp."

"Apologies are mine, Pors." Mal sat back, rubbed a hand across his eyes.
"I'm irritable. When I get irritable, I grow unnecessarily obtuse." He
smiled easily.

"You see, one other question needs immediate answering. I intend getting it
where we will arrive."

"Keep going," said Porsupah interestedly.

"I've performed a good deal of work in the past, as well as quite recently,
for a merchant?trader name of Chatham Kingsley. Always played square with
me; paid me well if not generously."

"Kingsley? Then that-'

Mal nodded. "The old man's favorite? and only son. Why he bothers about him
is beyond me. Even adopted blood is thicker than water, I suppose."

"Depends on the race. Here now! If the father is anything like the son?"

"No, no. I don't think the old man is even aware of his offspring's
hobbies. I suspect the kid's managed on his own ever since he was big
enough to order the help around. Chatham's a bastard, true, but he's a sane
bastard. He only enjoys cutting people up economically.

"See, the shipment that the bloodhype and other drugs tamed up in were all
consigned to Kingsley's agents. I met Rose's by accident. It's a possible
tie?up there that I'm concerned about. Before I run any more of Kingsley's
goods around the Arm, I've got to know if they're going to be full of silly
spice."

"I appreciate your problem, Captain. Yet we are expected, especially after
transceiving that report on Rose, to file reports in person to our
superior."

"Look, Pors. Everything we could do about Rose has been done over the
transceiver already. If this Major Orvenalix is but half up to his
reputation. . : '

"...He is...

... then there's no need for you to show up immediate?like, right nowish."
"Regulations ..."

"Will be adjusted for a few hours," Mal replied gruffly. "The drug shipment
is safe, you are safe, I am safe, and our good and kind acquaintance his
Lordship might as well be pinned under the grating with his technician back
at the island, for all the chance he has. When a few of the good Fathers
finish with him, he'll wish he was ... And while I'd normally not bother to
even mention it, you and your effervescent associate owe me nothing if not
a little time. Seeing as how I'm in large part responsible for returning to
you the balance of yours."

Porsupah didn't reply.



An hour or so later, the panel separating the forecabin and the storage
compartment slid back. A clearly tired Kitten Kai?sung, Lieutenant in the
service of the United Church, temporarily attached to Intelligence Branch,
stepped into the cabin. Her dress, which had never been designed by its
manufacturer with the contortions of the past twenty?four hours in mind,
looked as worn as its wearer. The long black hair fell haphazardly in
directions not always directed by gravity. The face was drawn.

There was also an unevenness to her gait, which was not caused by the
slight sway of the hoveraft.

"Nice to see you again," said Mal. He found himself smiling in spite of
himself. "Glad you could make it back shortly."

Kitten flopped down in a corner. She brushed an errant strand of hair from
her face and glared at him. The youthful apprentice sanitation engineer
redraped himself over his packing crate without a word. His expression,
revealing absolutely nothing, was significant for that. He folded his arms
across his chest and fell promptly asleep.

"Get a little more than you bargained for, rewardwise?" Mal prodded.

"Let's just say, Captain, he's been amply repaid for his help. Also for any
help he may render in the next, oh, ten years or so. But to satisfy your
morbid interest, there was one thing that did get to me a mite."

"Oh?" said Porsupah, giving every evidence of surprise. "I must know of
this wonder!"

She pointed. "Well, bristle?fur, it was that damned thing. It stared at me
the whole time."

She was pointing to the recumbent form of the flying snake, which lay,
blue?black and shiny, curled about its master's left shoulder.

It was either a glance at the instruments or else maybe the angle of the
sun, rising over the horizon slightly behind them, that told her.

" Hey, whither the hell goest we?"

"It seems," said Porsupah, "that the good Captain feels strongly the need
of an immediate confrontation with his employer. To determine if same is in
any way implicated in the drug traffic. I informed him that it was
necessary for us to return to central control, but he was adamant."

"Yeah," said Mal, looking straight at her. "That's me. Adamant."

"Investigation of all suspects in this matter is the government's
business," she said.

"Later, maybe. Your Major can have proper seconds. I do my own dirty work."

"I will not stand for it!"

"Then sit down!" he shouted angrily. "Patrick O' Morion, I've never come
'cross such an obstinate woman!" He made a heretical gesture heavenward.
"First I rescue you from a proverbial fate worse than death. Then I rescue
you from death! Then I save your assignment. I even; Kelvin knows why, try
to protect your virtue. How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty?four T-years. Why?"

Porsupah interrupted sarcastically. "See, Captain, you're about
twenty?three point nine years too late for that." The Tolian then found
much of interest in the workings of his seat.

"Black holes have both of you!" she yelled. "I'll treat with you later,
water?rat." She turned back to Mal. "And you,
baboon?that?walks?with?fundament?forward, just because your grotesque
carcass isn't up to the performance of our resident sewage?dabbler ... !"

"Watch it, little girl, I !"

First mate Takaharu swiveled half?way round in his chair. He actually
raised his voice slightly, a thing reserved for extraordinary occasions.

"I am known as a patient man," he murmured in a steadily rising voice, "but
if there is not some silence about this cabin immediately. I shall direct
this craft onto the nearest reef and allow your souls to drift in violent
converse for eternity! Please all to shut up?"

Glaring across the tiny cabin at each other, the Lieutenant and the
freighter?Captain sat.

Philip chose that moment to fill the air with a stentorian snore.



The Vom was aware of the Machine, orbiting directly above it. It had been
aware thus for some time now. Yet it recognized that the intelligence
needed to transform the Machine into a potential threat was not present. As
long as this remained so the Vom had nothing to fear. The Machine could not
act without the direction of the Guardian, and there was nothing to wake
the Guardian.

Yet clearly the Machine was aware of this too. Then why would it trouble to
track the Vom across parsecs? Obviously it hoped somehow to activate the
Guardian. The Vom sensed lack of key knowledge and this troubled it.

However, its strength was multiplying rapidly. It was a geometrical
process. Each new, reactivated facet aided in unlocking or strengthening
others. Since the Vom was maturing only internally, it aroused no suspicion
in its former captors. Former, because for some time now the Vom had
remained in place merely as a matter of convenience.

Regrettably, the Vom could not read thoughts. It never did have this
ability. But it was regaining another talent, the ability to pick up and
interpret the emotional discharges of other minds. It could sense no
threats around it. A real threat would have had unshakable confidence
behind it. The confidence here was purely superficial. The only ones the
Vom was at all concerned with were those few who projected utter fear.
Under unfavorable circumstances, these might conceivably panic the others.
That would be inconvenient now.

Soon, however, it wouldn't matter. The Vom would act as it pleased. It had
already passed the point where its peculiar composition could be threatened
by sudden discharges of energy. Even the arrival of the Machine did not
upset it. Not with the Guardian inert, inoperative. In fact, only one thing
bothered it at all.

Was there something it had not discovered on this small planet that might
conceivably activate the Guardian?



"A thousand moltings, your Excellency."

"What is it, sergeant?," said Parquit RAM irritably. They had finally
managed to detach a section of the creature. Arris bad just brought him
initial analyses, spectrographic readings, and such?and now interruptions.
He'd prepared his mind for revelations, for some practical return on an
already enormous investment in time, credit, and nye?power, and this
under?officer had shattered the mood.

"Ten thousand days of precipitation on my ancestor's graves if I have
disturbed you, Excellence, but='

"Oh, get on with it, nye!" That was the trouble with military protocol.
Took up too much military time.

"Excellence, a small hoveraft was just detected within the concession
perimeter. It appears to be piloted by a single human."

"Is that worthy of an interruption? Human and thranx fishermen and fortune
hunters occasionally stray within our boundaries. Hold the man for half a
day?just long enough for him to flow from the apoplectic to the
apologetic?inform him we do not regard his person as sacrosanct, issue the
standard missive of protest to the governor, and then let the fellow go."

"Well," he said when the sergeant did not absent himself. "Do you then find
my physiognomy so fascinating? Why do you still inflict your presence on
us?"

"Commander, Excellence, your indulgence. I do not make a standard
intrusion. I would never bother you with such trivia. It is that the human
... sir, he desires diplomatic sanctuary ... with us!"

Parquit pushed the folder of spectrographs aside. "That is truly different,
sergeant. I applaud your evaluation of the situation. My curiosity is
piqued. Does the creature appear sane?"

"He does, sir."

"What sort of man is he? No, bring him here. I want to see this for
myself."

The sergeant bowed, clasped his throat in salute, and left.

"Shall I go too, Commander?" said Arris, moving to gather up his papers.

"No. Stay, xenobiologist. This should amuse and possibly interest you."

The sergeant returned, along with two other soldiers. A single human walked
between them. He clearly came under his own will, walking as briskly as his
evident age permitted. Parquit raised a clawed hand and the sergeant
returned the salute. He left, taking the escort with him. The human was
left standing alone before the Commander's desk.

He wasn't a particularly impressive specimen, as humans went. Clearly of
advanced age, if Parquit's eye was any judge. Yet the body appeared fairly
healthy. The man was dressed well if not luxuriously. He carried a single
small metal case, half a meter square and thin. He was unarmed, of course.

After a cursory examination of the room, the mammal stared back at the
Commander. If he was nervous, he concealed it with the poise of one used to
such elementary psychological ploys. A bold type, certainly. He'd have to
be, to come here seeking asylum. Parquit could conceive of only one reason
for a human or thranx to do such. He must be desired by his
authorities?strongly enough to throw himself on the mercy of those
controlling the only autonomous bit of surface on the planet. As mercy was
not a trait the AAnn were famed for, the human would have to be desperate
indeed.

"I believe I have you evaluated sufficient for my needs," Parquit began.
"In any case, I most surely will not waste you by returning you to the
authorities who doubtless are seeking you. That need not concern you. I
will at least have the pleasure of denying them that. In this way you will
perform some small service for me. If you can somehow convince me that you
may be useful in ways other than by denying your person to the government,
d may consider not turning you over to the officer's chef for this
evening's sun?down meal. Scrawny as you are. As you no doubt well know, we
regard human flesh as something of a delicacy, the more so because of its
unavailability. Admittedly a sore point between our races. Your
justification for continued existence on a plane other than as dinner
better be substantial."

The human made a recognizable gesture of affirmation: He nodded his head.
"That's about the kind of greeting I expected. Now I will tell you who I
am. I am Lord Dominic Estes Rose."

"A natural or acquired title?"

"I bought it, if that's what you mean."

Parquit did not congratulate himself for this bit of insight. The creature
had neither the bearing nor appearance of the nobIeborn. Not that this
bothered him. Even today among the AAnn there were those ?who had purchased
their nest in the aristocracy. It was necessary to adapt to change, needed
to preserve the monarchy and the succession. Parquit himself had a
near?nest relative who...

"Your business, man?"

"I am a simple merchant."

"No merchant is simple who remains one. For that you find reason to flee to
us?" Parquit added sarcastically.

"I also run illegal drugs."

"Ah! That explains a good deal. Do you specialize?

"I'm what you might call a high?class general retailer." The human
chuckled. "I'm not particularly particular. If it'll bring a profit, I'll
broker anything. What I want, Commander ... um. ..."

"Commander is proper."

The man shrugged. "If you want it that way. What I want is help in getting
off?planet. I'll handle the reopening of my lines of supply myself. In
return for this I can be of some help to you. I have contacts all over the
Commonwealth."

"You'd .sell yourself away from your own race?" Arris spoke for the first
time.

Rose responded. He laughed.

"Do you believe in souls, friend?"

"Naturally," said Arris.

"Well, as far as forty Terran years ago, mine had been mortgaged several
times over. Many races own a piece of me. A number have been trying to
collect for years. I always stay one jump ahead of my un?friends. And my
credit is excellent, which helps. I'm for bartering with anything that
holds a convertible credit slip. That's the only race I owe allegiance to,
the race of figures in my account with the Bank of ... but that needn't
concern you."

"I believe it all, man. Suppose, though, that I still decide you are more
valuable to me as this evening's entree than a man of business?"

"For a lizard, your symbospeech ain't bad. I might choose to blackmail you
into a formal promise. How sounds that?"

"Illogical. To blackmail one must be able to threaten. Prospective dinners
rarely possess anything to threaten the diner with."

"Well, I have what's in this case." Rose shifted the container in front of
him.

Parquit sighed. This man was going to turn out to be a disappointment after
all.

"Man, that case contains nothing of metal other than what is embodied in
its basic construction. Nor anything of plastic, glass, wood, ceramic, nor
any object of artificial construct greater than a few millimeters of your
measurement. If it had, you'd never have been permitted past the landing
point. Let alone into my personal presence. All you might do is throw it in
my direction. You would be incinerated along with it before you could half
complete the motion."

"Don't doubt it. See Commander, what this case contains is a number of
kuysters ?your measurement? of the pure drug bloodhype, in powder form and
under pressure. If I let go of this handle, this case will fairly explode
from internal pressure. I think I'm too close to you for any destructive
beam to be certain of destroying all the powder without killing you too. If
the least of it, however tiny an amount, reaches you, you'll be as hooked
as the worst addict in the filthiest dive on Terra or Dust Dune. Since I
currently control the only supply in the known galaxy, you'll die later
than I will, but a good deal more uncomfortably. As will your companion,"
Arris stiffened, "and anyone else who breathes it... I presume your air
circulating system is efficient. You might consider your men. I might also
remind you that if my intentions had been basically antagonistic, I could
have safely released the dust at any time, if my object in coming here was
to do you harm."

"You are bluffing. You are not the type to welcome suicide."

"Commander, I invited it by comming here! If you want other proof, you can
find out real quick."

Parquit did not make Commander by hesitating in awkward situations. "All
right. I grant your sanctuary."

"Swear by your Shell and The?Sand?That?Shelters?Life."

Parquit made the AAnn equivalent of a smile. Naturally he did not bare his
teeth. "You are a knowledgeable rogue, soulless Lord." The Commander
lowered his voice, rumbled through the archaic hisses and croaks of the
ancient oath.

"There. Are you satisfied?"

"You forgot the sealing of the membrane and the last three wind atonings."

"A simple test, man. Compliments." This time Par. quit did it properly. It
was impressive.

Rose nodded when the AAnn had finished. He turned, set the case down on the
floor. Arris winced involuntarily when the man took his hand from the
handle. Rose turned back to face them.

"You were bluffing, of course," said Parquit.

"Don't let the either?or keep you awake nights, Commander." Rose looked
around, helped himself to an awkwardly shaped chair.

"I might say that any being who deals in bloodhype is a living scab to all
AAnn as well as to your own race."

"Insults are a sad way to begin a long relationship, Commander. Besides,
I've heard them all already."



Chatham Kingsley's island?home, Wetplace, reflected wealth?new wealth, as
opposed to traditional inherited types. Kingsley could have built an
old?Terra type baronial mansion (they were currently in style). But he
eschewed the false reproduction and opted instead for the maximum in modern
convenience. This left a good portion of the island's interior for a
wilderness garden. Most of the necessary business edifices, such as
warehousing, were built offshore on a complex of struts, pylons, and
floating platforms.

The central residence consisted of a single tower, which rose some 50
meters into the air while plunging an equal distance into sea and bedrock,
on the side where the island fell off steeply into the shallow sea.

The island thus remained almost entirely in a virgin state. The natural
profusion of greenery was encouraged by judicious additions of organic
fertilizers, powerful plant foods, and professional verdurement. Thick
cycads, ferns, sporophytes and horsetails grew to the waterline, dipping
graceful fronds into the slightly salty tideflow. In some places they even
mingled with the sea?plants which grew sunwards from the seabottom, forming
an unbroken wall of green against which water lapped viscously.

The Tower itself was constructed of parallel vertical bands of a coppery
bronze alloy and panes of opaque black glass.

Takaharu guided the raft among the few small commercial craft which plied
the artificial harbor. They beaded towards a single long, floating dock. An
anchored walkway led towards the Tower.

Mal glanced at the console. "All right, Maijib. You can acknowledge their
calls now." Since Kingsley was overtly legitimate, they could expect to
approach his property closely without fearing the gift of a missile or
mine. But now at least a cursory greeting was in order.

The first mate flipped on the comm. Immediately a harried voice filled the
cabin. It was also officious and slightly bellicose.

"... a private residence! Identify yourselves, pleasel This area is defined
as ..."

Hammurabi leaned over the mike for the second time in two days. "Malcolm
Hammurabi, Captain?owner of the free freighter Umbra, and First Mate, along
with Lieutenants United Church Kitten Kai?sung and Porsupah, and engineer
Philip ... Philip ..." Mal glanced back at the lanky youngster. In all this
time he hadn't thought to ask the fellow's last name.

"Lynx," the engineer replied.

. Philip Lynx to see merchant?trader Chatham Kingsley, and is the old
S.O.B. at home or not?"

"I beg your modification, Captain! I might inform you that...

"Never mind, Hulen," a cultured, even voice broke in.

"Yes sir," the unlucky Hulen replied. He sounded subdued. The voice
returned.

"Is that you, Hammurabi? This is the old S.O.B. himself. What brings you
down from orbit? I thought you hated anything over half a gee. Your credit,
in full, has already been transceived to your ship's account on Terra. I'd
have thought you'd have checked on that long ago."

"I did. That's not why I'm here."

"Well, then?"

"I'm peeved, Kingsley, peeved."

"And presumably I'm the one who's peeved you, eh? All right, come on up. Or
down, rather. And bring your friends with you. We'll see if we can't
unpeeve you."

Firm as ,its footing in the sloping Pecces was, the wide delivery?way
shifted slightly under their feet with the action of the tide. A human
butler met them at the entrance to the black and gold structure.

"The master awaits you in the viewing room, sirs and lady. The sixteenth
level." The elegantly appointed servant directed them to a room?sized
elevator. It was more than,. large enough to hold them all comfortably.
Kitten depressed the stud marked 16 and the lift started to move.

"Feels like we're moving downwards," said Porsupah.

"I sense so too," Philip added.

"The building is half below sea level," Mal informed them. "I've never been
here myself, but I'm acquainted with the schematics for storage reasons."
He indicated the lights over the front door. Number 18 had just winked out
and 17 on.

"We entered at midpoint?about the 20th floor." The door slid back silently.
He stepped out into an enormous, unfamiliar room. It had a concave ceiling
and was crescent shaped. The elevator shaft formed its apex.

The far wall was entirely glass. It revealed a breathtaking panorama of the
sea floor that disappeared in a turquoise haze. Fish and sea mammals swam
lazily back and forth in front of the glass, catching the sunlight which
filtered down through the clear water. Some clustered around feeding
platforms. A number differed sufficiently from the familiar vertebrates to
be classed as eye?catching, if not exotic.

No, it was the room's decor that deserved the latter label. There was no
individual furniture. Seats, fables and chairs were formed by rises and
depressions in the floor of the room. The entire compartment was covered in
a rich, reddish?brown fur. Artificial, but still exorbitantly expensive.
The hairs tan as long as five centimeters. The lining?it couldn't be called
a carpet?covered every space: floor, ceiling, walls, everything but that
single panoramic window. Like the skin of some misshapen behemoth turned
inside out. They were in the belly of a dream.

"Fascinating concept," Kitten whispered. "Kind of like being inside a
marsupial's pouch."

"A fine analogy, Miss Kai?sung," boomed a voice from near the window.

Chatham Kingsley reclined on a low, fur?covered platform. He was shorter
than any of them, with the exception, of course, of Porsupah. A good three
centimeters shorter than Mal or Kitten. He affected a blond crewcut, a
short, thick brush mustache, and a gold and topaz ring in one ear. Angular
cheekbones, a pointed chin, Roman nose, and falsely innocent china?blue
eyes completed the face. A curious mixture of putty and flint. The mind
behind the baby?eyes was at least that hard?a fact which Kingsley's
ever?polite chatter strove to obscure.

"Well Malcolm, you arrived in time for lunch, anyway. Sit yourselves down,
all of you. I've instructed the cook appropriately."

"I'm afraid, Chatham, that there are a few things that ate more important
than?"

"Hold on," said Kitten. "Porsupah and I haven't had anything but a few
scraggly canapes and fish sandwiches in the past 36 hours. At the moment;
nothing is more important than lunch."

"I myself have no intention," added Porsupah, his eyes glued to the
subterranean scene, "of staring at all those delightful and no doubt edible
swimmers without taking a bite of something. Your obviously well?nourished
bulk not excepted, Captain."

"So we accept your invitation," finished Kitten firmly. She stared
challengingly at Mal, who sighed deeply and chose not to fight back.

"Marvelous! Bless you, my dear. Miss Kai?sung, wasn't it?"

"Call me Kitten"

"And you must call me Chatham, yes. Are you and your friend? Porsupah is a
Tolian calling, I believe?are you really. ?ranked officers in the Church
forces? I've riot seen you around. city before."

"Really and truly we are, Chatham. We're only temporarily attached to the
Rectory in Repler City."

"A shame. But old Orvenalix's taste is improving." The merchant stared at
her approvingly.

Kitten turned to Mal. "That settles your question. He's innocent!" The
freighter?captain groaned.

"Innocent?" said Kingsley uncertainly. "Then I am presumed guilty of some?
wrongdoing?" He shifted to a sitting position on the lounge, looked
questioningly at Mal.

"Okay, okay. Let's eat first, as voted. I confess Ive been overruled by my
innards, also. I'm famished."



The others were playing with dessert. Mal was cleaning off his fourth leg
of Garvual, a large, carnivorous wading bird, when their host cocked an
inquiring eye at him. Mal had long since decided that subtlety would be as
useful with Kingsley as it had been with Rose. For different reasons. He
wiped his hands and mouth with a hot towel, stifled most of a gargantuan
belch, and began.

"Chatham, I found a consignment of drugs mixed in with the Umbra's last
cargo. That shipment was 92% yours. We completely deshipped at Largess, so
I know it came aboard there. It included a significant milling of refined
bloodhype. Yes, bloodhype. Nearly pure, I'm told. Also a number of other
nasty types, but nothing in jaster's class. Don't try and play coy with me.
I know you'd be aware of the stuff's reintroduction onto the market."

Kingsley tapped delicately about the corners of his mouth with a towel. "It
is true I am not entirely uninformed where information concerning trade in
this section of the Arm is concerned." He sat back and folded his hands
contentedly over an emerging pot?belly. "Cordials will be forthcoming. Your
implication, then, is that I arty somehow involved in this traffic?"

Are you?

"No."

"Why wouldn't you be? You live conveniently close to Dominic Rose, who we
know is responsible for distributing the stuff."

"We live on the same planet, that's true."

"This is too serious for sarcasm, Chatham."

"Pomposity invites sarcasm."

"Okay. Look, modern transport reduces a planet to nothing, distancewise.
Your contacts are broader than his, better established, legitimate across
the lanes, and have strong financial? support. With his illegal
connections, the two of you are logical partners in an enterprise capable
of pulling astronomical profits."

"I'd heard rumors that it was that old reprobate who'd been transshipping
the stuff, but there was no way to confirm any of them. He covers himself
too well. Or did, apparently. You're wrong on several counts.

"For openers, much as I respect Rose's business sense and his ability to
handle complex transactions across parsecs with a maximum of secrecy, I
personally bate his guts. That would put a crimp in any relationship of
needs founded on complete trust. Second, I'm doing quite well, thank you,
trading in legitimate goods. Too well to risk jeopardizing everything for a
single line. However profitable. And don't think I don't envy him the
margin of that trade. I do. Not That I'm averse to handling something a
little off?grain, understand. I'm no saint. A respectable stimulant like
Kepong, now. The authorities frown on it, but it is not, strictly speaking,
under edict."

"According to whose lawyers," said Kitten.

"Yes, a point of contention. But while the powers that be debate, I see no
harm in making hay while the sun shines, as the saying goes. Wonder what
`hay' is? But bloodhype? That's a little too filthy. A decent gun will kill
a man honestly. That stuff eats as it kills. The thing that finally dies
isn't a man anymore. Or whatever race. No, no. Absolutely not."

"What about your son?" broke in Philip. He'd finally turned away from a
close inspection of the window view.

Kingsley swiveled in surprise. "Russell? My son, I fear, is not interested
in anything remotely indicative of work. He is averse to business in all
its manifestations, excepting his allowance." The merchant sighed. "A
deficiency which I fear I encourage overmuch."

"Among other things," Kitten said flatly.

"You've met him then, Kitten?"

"Briefly. Twice."

"I'm not surprised." The trader helped himself to a flagon of imported
honey?pollen brandy from Calm Nursery. A second human servant had arrived
with a rolling cart of drinkables. Clearly, people were still regarded as a
status symbol on Repler. Porsupah opted for a tall bottle of Bitterind, a
common mixer, and poured himself a straight glass.

"Yes, Russell would hardly miss a new arrival arranged like yourself,
Kitten." The trader chuckled. "The lad's a terror with the ladies, I'm
told."

"Chatham," began Kitten, "you don't know the half of it. Matter of fact?"

Mal interrupted hastily. "It's not that I don't believe you, Chatham ...

Porsupah put a restraining paw on Kitten's arm, felt the tensed muscles
relax. "Softly treading now, smoothskin. The other is clearly not present.
It is bad manners to think of killing the son of one's host. Especially
while drinking with him."

"Relax, Pors. Obviously if he was around the old boy would have presented
him. As for manners, I'm not going to consult a book of etiquette the next
time I meet that chap. I'll be very polite at his funeral."

"Sssss! Listen, for a change."

"I've as much as given my word on this drug thing," said Kingsley amiably.
"However, if you like, I'll provide the strongest proof. I will post a bond
with an intermediary to the effect that, should I ever be implicated of
trafficing bloodhype or any of the commonly fatal drugs, you will receive
thrice your payment for this last shipment from my estate, if need be."

"A grand gesture, Chatham. You almost convince me. I'll take that offer.
You'd better hope no one tries to frame you."

Kingsley chuckled. "On the day someone manages that, I will hire in with an
AAnn consortium as kitchen inspector. The bond will be drawn up tonight. By
tomorrow morning it will be posted with the central exchange computer here
and at annexes on Terra and Hivehom."

"Fine." Mal downed a straight glass of orange Couperanian brandy. He could
trace its tactile path down his throat and into his stomach. It formed a
pool of glowing warmth there, a small non?nuclear furnace.

"There now," said Kingsley expansively, polishing off the remainder of his
own drink. "If everyone is suitably fueled, I'll give evidence of my
openness in another manner. To all of you." A conspiratorial tone had
entered the trader's voice. "I confess the action will not be entirely
unselfish. I need some fresh, outside opinions. Surely you can't do any
worse than my own technicians."

"Is it interesting or just profitable, your proof?" Kitten inquired.

"A deal of both, my dear. Come and decide for yourself."

Leaving their silverware and glasses and such behind, awkward alien shapes
in the smooth furry sea, they followed the merchant to the central
elevator. Kitten noticed he limped slightly. The conveyance dropped them
another ten levels but did not stop there. Instead, a series of lights
running horizontally across the control panel blinked on. Apparently they
were traveling parallel to the surface, deep into island bedrock.

Kitten estimated that they had traveled roughly twothirds of the way into
the island and slightly downward, when the doors finally slid back. The
trader led them out.

Two men stood ready to greet them. They both relaxed at the sight of the
merchant.

"Good evening, sir," offered the one on their left.

"Evening Willus, Rave. Taking some guests to see the salvage." Both guards
hefted heavy, no?nonsense weapons: Paxton Five's. The thick?bodied guns
launched tiny self?propelled missiles with explosive warheads. They were
clumsy and awkward at close range, but reflective laser armor would be
useless against them.

There were guards at two more checkpoints, located at sharp turns in the
tunnel.

"Never been through here before," Mal said staring at the smooth, machined
walls. "Quite a hidey?hole. What do you keep down here, your trousseau?"

"Abandoned any need for that when my credit account first passed six
figures. There are several storage chambers of varying size cut into the
rock. We're headed for the biggest."

Mal nodded. "I noticed several other passageways branching off when we left
the elevator."

"This one is particularly well fortified. I use it to store the more
expensive imports and exports. Also goods which require controlled
atmosphere, peace and quiet. Delicate scientific apparatus, for example.
Just now it happens to house a very intriguing hunk of cosmic jetsam a pair
of shuttle?pilots?semi?regular employees of mine ?found drifting in
indifferent orbit. They had the good sense to plant a salvage beacon on it
and contact me right away ... The thing they hauled down is interesting
more than as a mere representative of alien manufacture. You'll see why."

They turned another corner abruptly and stood in the described room. There
was a thick door, retracted into the ceiling. Several other men and thranx
were already there.

"Engineers and technical consultants from my staff in Repler City," said
Kingsley at an inquiring glance from Kitten. "Brought away from their
regular jobs to work on this thing. Expensive." He pointed. "That's it."

He indicated a huge rectangular block of metal standing slightly apart near
the back of the chamber. At first glance it was not particularly
impressive. It stood near a host of other carefully stacked crates. One of
these stood unpackaged. Mal recognized the device as a commercial class
Seatoler. This was a thranx?developed instrument which could accurately
predict changes in ocean currents, water temperature at various depths, and
even track and predict fluctuations in the height of the thermocline. In
other words, a very valuable and exclusive hunk of fishing equipment. No
doubt consigned to one of the larger fishing concerns on Repler.

One of the engineers noticed their arrival, walked slowly over to greet
them. Skinny afterthought arms dangled from a short?sleeved workshirt. The
man had a hooked nose and artificial corneas that gave his gaze an
unnatural sparkle. Kitten could make out the silvery threads that ran
around the edge of the implants.

"Sir, we still cannot locate any kind of button, switch, lever, or even a
sign that this thing is meant to be opened. It took us four hours just to
find a seam, you know."

"I know, Martinez. I'm paying for it. Keep at it. I'm not ready to resort
to slicing it open. Not yet. Haven't you been able to learn anything about
its insides?"

"Well, the metal?we're pretty sure now that it is metal, by the way?resists
normal xerographic and skeletonay probing. But one of the guys got the idea
of trying a moliflow scan at very low power. We got some interior pickup
that way, enough to take rough measurements of the body inside  The man
wiped sweat from his brow.

"There's a creature in that thing?" asked Kitten.

"A genuine, certified new?to?science, bonafide alien. Yes my dear."

"About three meters tall," the engineer continued. "Pickup was faint, and
it's hard to hold focus at such low power. We couldn't get much more than
that. It seems to be in an excellent state of preservation. I didn't want
to take a chance on harming the tissues by using the scanner at a stronger
level. As far as direct visual observation goes, we've only found the one
transparent section that the pilot marked. The red tinting of the glass, or
whatever, is heavy enough to render it opaque in spots. Even so, you can
make out more than is pleasant. It's not pretty, Kingsley."

"I've seen the frozepix, Martinez, I know. As I said, keep 'em at it. This
amounts to a paid holiday for some, and I won't tolerate loafing."

"Yes sir."

The group moved to the base of the metal ziggurat. It was mostly gray,
shading to a bleached?bone white in places. Tiny pits were visible over
most of the surface, scars from micrometeorites and null?flies.

"Another point, Hammurabi." The trader was examining a particularly large
pitting. "Analysis of a scraping from this thing?and you've no idea what we
had to go through to get it?places it between five and six hundred thousand
years of age. Now me, I'm fond of antiques, but this gives me the shivers."

"And it's been floating around in your backyard for that long?"

"No one knows for certain. According to what the smart boys tell me, that's
not likely. It would have been noticed before now. Still, Repler hasn't
been inhabited that long and large?scale commerce is pretty recent. More
likely, though, it was floating free and happened to be captured by the
planet's gravity. There's certainly nothing to indicate it was built around
here. It doesn't correspond to anything built by other known space?going
races."

"It might have been built on Repler," Mal persisted. "Lots of things could
disappear in that span of time."

Kingsley shook his head. "Doesn't add. If the builders of this and the
battleship?size sphere that accompanied it could make things last this
long, we'd find similar constructs on the ground. In an advanced state of
decay, sure, but at least a foundation here and there. While it's true much
of Repler is still unexplored, enough survey has been carried out to
indicate that not even a primitive sapient race once lived here. This is
what the brain?boys tell me, anyway. You ought to see that mother object,
by the way. Haven't even scratched that, yet. Looks like one of Mother
Nature's more grandiose invertebrates, blown up to gigasize."

"Mister Kingsley!" The shout came from behind the massive relic. The
merchant looked up.

An engineer peered around the edge and down from his precarious perch atop
the makeshift scaffolding.

"There's some paneling back here, sir." The man expressed confusion and
puzzlement. "I could swear I've been over this spot a hundred times
already. Anyhow, it just slid back under my band."

"How big an opening?" yelled Martinez. Then, lowering his voice, "Anything
visible?"

"Damn right there is! There's a light underneath that's flickering like it
can't make up its mind whether to stay on or off. It doesn't appear to be
blinking in any kind of recognizable series. Now it's staying lit. I can't
make out a bulb or filament of any kind."

"You can come down now, engineer," said Kingsley quietly. He started to
back away. "In fact, I suggest everyone move back."

"A commendable suggestion," Kitten added.

"Martinez," the trader whispered. The room had grown suddenly silent. The
engineer tore his eyes away from the relic.

"Go back through the main access and send all six guards in. Then contact
stores and get Cady. Tell him I want a small cannon and crew down here. As
of two minutes ago."

"Yes sir." Martinez departed on the run, glancing back often over his
shoulder.

Oblivious to human concern, the front of the ancient relic continued to
open.

No one breathed. The slowly opening panel was similarly noiseless. People
avoided bumping into things.

The cover of the capsule, or whatever it was, finally stopped. It had swung
out and back about 120 degrees, revealing a padded interior. A rainbow of
wires, pads, and things with unknown and unimaginable functions enclosed
and criss?crossed the inert body of the alien. When nothing else happened,
a small cluster of engineers and technicians, men who had been halfway out
the tunnel at the first movement, began to edge back for a closer look.

The first two guards arrived, panting heavily. They took one look at what
was taking place and immediately ran around the perimeter to the right.
That way t?hey would have a clearer line of fire into the capsule.

First sight suggested a mating between a crab and a Kodiak bear. The being
was clearly constructed along lines with .power commensurate to size. The
trunk was broad and deep. Lines of muscle showed clearly under the skin at
the bare spots. Most of, it was covered by a bristly silver?white fur
centimeters in length, fading here and there to a light brown. Plastrons of
some shelllike substance, mottled white, covered the chest area. The fur
there was sparse and stunted around the edges.

Four thick, jointed legs, bare of fur and armored like a battleraft,
trailed from the limp torso. A thick tentacle at each shoulder point
divided almost immediately, splitting four?fifths of the way down into four
smaller, finger?like branchings. There were sixteen manipulative members,
then. The branching limbs descended to a point just above where the legs
began.

There were four eyes, two on either side of the curved white beak. Two
large ones close to the center, with a smaller to the far left and right.
Furred lids shut tight over all four. The beak was closed, but four short,
pointed canines projected outside the mouth, two up and two down. There was
no external evidence of ears or nostrils.

Six guards now focused their weapons on the thing. Mal, Kitten, Philip,
Kingsley, and a batch of fascinated technicians and engineers stared
open?mouthed in its direction.

"Ugly thing, isn't it?" said Porsupah into the silence. The engineers
immediately started to buzz among themselves, a dozen conversations
suddenly going at once.

"I'm not in love with its features either, Pors," Kitten replied. "Anyone
recognize the species?"

"I don't want to interrupt any fascinating dialogue on alien cosmetology,."
said Philip quietly, "but I believe I just saw an eyelid flicker. Yes,
there it is again."

Kitten backed away, moaning. "Oh god, I think I may suffer a lapse of
training. I'm going to scream."

She didn't, although funny sounds came from her throat. One of the
technicians wasn't so bashful and, did scream. Another fainted. All four
eyes did open, slowly, all at once. The pupils, Mal noted as he took four
large steps backwards, were slitted like a cat's in the two, big ones but
were round in the small peripheral ones. He drew his own pistol. If the
thing decided to charge he had more confidence in running than in the gun's
stopping power. The alien looked frighteningly efficient, was clearly
carnivorous (that hooked beak, never mind the teeth) and powerful enough to
shred armor?plate.

"Hey, I can't scream. I'm too. scared,"

"Scared Lieutenant?" said Mal, immediately regretting the unkind dig.

"Fang you, ape. This isn't in the manual."

They all heard the voice at the same time.

It was similar to the voices one hears in dreams. Precise, sharp, but very
far away.

"Do not be scared, female?image?of?small?furred?animal?with?long?claws.
After such Time, it is sad to be awakened to thoughts dissonant and
unfriendly."

"Interesting," she said, recovering rapidly. Whatever else could be said
about the voice, it was completely devoid of any hint of malice. She was
instantly, perhaps unreasonably, reassured. "Telepathy."

"A serviceable label, given lack of proper referents," the creature
murmured. The eyes shifted slowly, slightly. "Also for want of a better
term, you may address me as `Peot.' I am quite immobile. I can, however,
detect a number of your species pointing what I ascertain to be lethal
devices in my direction. While I do not believe they could do me harm, I
would prefer to avoid the possibility that one may stumble accidentally,
thus forcing me to find out. I assure you I mean you no evil."

One of the guards, an older man with some gray in his sideburns, turned his
head to face Kingsley. His weapon did not move.

"Sir?"

Kingsley had not become wealthy by hesitating. "Take the rest of the boys
and resume your normal stations. Stay there unless you're sent for."

"As you wish, sir. I protest, though." He gestured to the other five and,
without taking their weapons off the alien, they began to edge out of the
chamber.

"Oh, and Haddad?"

"Sir?"

"Call Martinez at stores and tell him it seems we won't be needing that
cannon after all. Tell him just to get back here himself."

Aye, sir."

The engineers had edged back and were slowly resuming their multiple
conversations?quietly, this time.

"I've a million questions and no place marked `begin the game here,' "
began Chatham, "so ...

"A moment," said Peot solemnly. The eyes closed and the alien went
incommunicado for several minutes while the humans shifted about
restlessly. They reopened.

"There were a number of things I had to determine. It is difficult also for
me to adjust to the span of time that has passed."

"No more so than it is for us to adjust to your presence," said Kitten.

"Perhaps not, small female. My Machine tells that I am the last of my race.
This fact is not entirely unexpected, yet it is heavy on me."

"Characteristic number one," Porsupah whispered to Kitten.. "Facility for
understatement."

"You might say that, and there's no point in you whispering, Pors."

The Tolian did a blush?equivalent.

"I am here now because the Machine felt it needful for the continuance of
my work."

"Your work. What is your work?" Kingsley asked.

"I am a Guardian ... the Guardian."

"And what must you still guard ... after half a million years?" The small
attempt. at levity fell fiat. The alien's visage did not encourage humor.

"The Vom."

"I see. The Vom. Pray tell,. what is the Vom? Or Voms, as the case may be."

"Long ago, my race encountered a being ... if `being` is indeed the proper
term ... so alien that we suspected it must have traveled here from another
galaxy. Although the concept of crossing the intergalactic abyss was one
before which even our finest minds shrank it always seemed the only
rational explanation of the creature's origins. It was discovered that the
creature was powerful beyond imagining, sometimes in ways difficult to
understand. Also, it did not invite close study...

"Attempts at contact proved fruitless. The thing destroyed whatever life it
encountered. It began with the higher forms on a planet and moved to the
lower; until it had eliminated even the miscroscopic existences. A planet
stripped by the Vom was as thoroughly sterilized as if it had passed
through a sun. Conventional weaponry proved useless against it. New
machines were tried and offered some hope, but the thing was too clever to
be trapped. Several times we appeared to have destroyed it. Always it
escaped by avoiding rather than inviting a fight until it had discovered a
method of combating each new development we threw at it. Its caution
convinced us of its mortality, so we at least knew it could be
destroyed....

"Always it grew stronger. At the cost of a great many planes?of?existence,
time, and effort, a way was found to contain it on a single planet. The
life on that planet was forfeited so that we might protect ourselves."

Peot did not comment on the thoughts that passed through the chamber
following that remark.

"This new device prevented it from leaving the planet by its familiar
method. We believe it could at one time travel through space on its own,
but had clearly forgotten or lost this ability eons ago. After consuming
all life on the planet, it shrank rapidly in size and power."

Kitten discovered that her palms were damp. She glanced over at Mal and was
mildly surprised to see the freighter?captain rubbing his own against the
legs of his coveralls.

"I don't think I like the way your thoughts are leading," said Kingsley.

"It is ,really weakened. So much so that it may now be possible to destroy
it forever. To have survived to realize that end would make even the sleep
of millennia worthwhile."

"The thing is here, now, on Repler," said Philip. It wasn't a question.

The eyes swiveled to rest on the young engineer. "Yes, that is so."
(Something/there/veiling/physical youth/ hiding??/determine/what?/not
now/standoff?/more than/ less than/query?query?/silence/silence/ *?*/.)

Those present got only the confirmation.

"Well for Solsake, where? Let's be about rooting out this archaic bugaboo
or whatever! The military base at the capitol can?!"

"I have evaluated your thoughts on the matter and those of the two military
attaches present," came the thoughts firmly. Both Kitten and Porsupah
started. So much for classified information. "The Vom is weakened, true.
Enormously so, yet it is still powerful enough so that simple energy
devices will not harm it."

"Simple, hell!" snorted Kingsley. "The rectory there mounts energy rifles
on an anchor core that?"

"All is relative, my young friend. I know wherewith I say." Kingsley
subsided. Maybe, Kitten figured, the certainty in that voice got to the
trader. r maybe it was the "young friend."

"I should, however, be glad of some help," Peot continued, perhaps with an
eye towards assuaging any feelings of racial impotence. "Yet I fear that
such an attempt would but provoke a devastating response on the part of the
thing, which I am currently powerless to prevent. Something simple, on the
nature of gleaning the central city of all intelligent life. No, it is best
to try none such ... yet."

"You did say it might be killed," reminded Mal.

Kitten reflected while observing this by?play that the adaptability of the
human wasn't bad by half. Here they were standing and chatting amiably via
telepathy with a completely improbable alien, only recently resurrected,
about some other unknown and equally outrageous creature from another
universe as though everything had been politely arranged by faxpax and when
will tea be served, thank you?

"Although immensely powerful by your standards 

"Look, how do you so all of a sudden know so much about our standards and
such?" said Kingsley, a trifle belligerently. He was doubtless a bit put
out that his prize possession had taken over its own introduction.

Peot, however, had no time for idle converse. He began again, patiently.

"Although immensely powerful by your standards, it has degenerated
considerably from what it once was. The major portion of the Machine is in
synchronous orbit directly above !he Vom's current location. It will stay
that way regardless of how tee creature moves. The Machine is directed and
operated from this capsule. Certain repairs to critical functions must be
made before any attempt to attack the Vom can be made. As a matter of
self?protection and your own safety . . . the Vom grows stronger each day
it is unopposed ... these things must be done as soon as possible. Some of
the required elements are' rare. Others have deteriorated, I fear, because
their life has been reduced to a point where they will no longer activate
the instrumentation they affect. These must be replaced."

"All well and good," said Kingsley, argumentative to the last. "But what
guarantee have I that you'll use these no doubt expensive supplies as you
say, for the purpose you ,claim? In fact, what guarantee have I that you're
even ?telling the truth about this fantastic, impregnable boojum of yours?
Maybe you're really preparing for some large?scale nastiness of your own,
hmmm?"

"So. In the first place," Peat reached out suddenly with a long tentacle
and swept up the nearest technician, "I am also not convinced of your
intentions towards me. These are immaterial. As stated, I have no wish to
harm you. No, do not send for your weapons, Chatham Kingsley. I wish simply
to demonstrate that I could have killed everyone here quite easily. War and
its arts were the. reason for life among my folk. I knew the location,
abilities, and. probable fighting ?capability of everyone in this chamber
before I opened my eyes. So, a demonstration of good faith on my part."

"Well, that's certainly reassuring," said Kingsley, not at. all reassured.
His voice wavered uneasily as the giant stepped easily from its padded
capsule, stretched. "My apologies. As many as you want. I accept your
story, whole, complete, in tote. Now if you'd be good enough to put my
technician down? I think he's fainted."

"I did not mean to harm!" came the alarmed voice.

"No, no, he's fine; it's nowhere near a lethal condition. Just put him
down, please. Gently. Yes, that's fine." The towering alien backed away a
couple of steps as two of the man's companions bent over him, dividing
their attentions between the unconscious tech and the all?too close Pent.

Sensing their discomfort, the alien moved to examine the interior of his
capsule.

"Planning any more surprises like that?" asked Kingsley uncomfortably.

"I am not such a poor bargainer myself, that I would tell you everything at
once," the alien thought. An unmistakable undercurrent of humor came with
it, then faded. The voice turned somber again. "I shall endeavor to work as
rapidly as possible. So much to be done!" A mental sigh accompanied the
last. "I have a professional concern only in this. But I also cannot stand
by and loose the thing again on an unprepared galaxy. Not while I have such
a fine chance to destroy it once and for all."

Kitten, seeing that no one else was about to moved close to the alien. She
reached out and touched the thick pelt that encircled the alien's waist.

"You speak of war as your race's favorite and foremost activity. Yet your
actions indicate noble and altruistic motives. I don't understand."

"Noble? Yes, we were noble. Altruistic? On the contrary. 3f this were my
race's time and not yours, you would unquestionably be an enslaved folk.
War was not merely an activity with us. It was, as said, everything. Your
enslavement would seem as natural to us as the freedom of others might to
you. And there would be neither malice nor hate involved in the action."

"That's ghastly!"

Mental shrug. "All things in the universe are relative."

"But you're still helping us. And I don't believe that `sacred duty' wave
of yours, either. Not after millennia. And you put that engineer down
carefully, as carefully as I'd handle a kitten. Why?"

"I happen to be a gentle person," came the soft reply. "I prefer life to
death, peace to war, tranquility, order, plants that blossom, small beings
that produce pleasant sounds, the feeling wind gives, all such things."

"More contradictions and none of the originals resolved," said Kitten.

The alien turned from its inspection and stared down at her with all four
eyes. Involuntarily she took a step back, then angrily moved forward.

"Small female, what sort of being would your kind place in such a position
as mine, to float in confined aloneness, aloneness, for eternity? What sort
of .specimen, whose mind only is needed?the neural network, the
electro?organic nexi? With only occasional voices of your own kind, in
passing, for companionship. To be brother to a machine. To drift only, in
ignorance of time and motion. Yet an important task now and then to be
trusted to such ... A voluntary position, also, for such we were. One that
had to be taken of choice and not order. Love, comfort, ease, rest;
kindliness, smoothness, stroking, friendship, so pleasant ... Oh yes, I was
quite insane...

"And you, rabbit?with?fangs." Kingsley started. "If you still need further
proof of my words, I fear you will have it sooner than you wish." The alien
turned back to face the interior of its capsule.

"Umm.. Well, for now, I'll see to it that you're supplied with what you
need," the trader said evenly. "Inform me, and I'll?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. A negative. I shall relay my needs and requests through another ...
that one, I think."

An image formed alongside the wordpicture. Or maybe it supplanted them. It
was difficult to tell. But it was not ambiguous. The others turned to stare
at the subject of the thought.

Philip shook himself as though returning from a sleep. He looked very young
again, suddenly. "Well, gee," he said.

"Now listen," began Kingsley. Mal put an arm on the merchant's shoulder.

"When a being confesses to insanity; even if he's sane by our standards, it
might be in everyone's best interests to humor him, Chatham."

"All right. All right. I just don't like the feeling that things are
slipping out of my hands right in front of my face. I just don't like it."

"Rabbit?with?fangs," came the voice, "things were getting out of your hands
before your ancestors were conceived."

Pent connected a circuit unused for millennia. And thought.



A thousand kilometers away, the Vom jerked. Mentally. Outwardly it had not
changed. Inside, it seethed. Somehow the Guardian had successfully been
activated. Despite constant monitoring, the actual stimuli had completely
escaped the Vom's scrutiny. Even now the ancient nemesis was preparing
itself.

The Vom was not ready to act. Not yet. It was torn between two
possibilities: to attempt an immediate, allout attack in hopes of
destroying or crippling the Guardian, or waiting until it had reached the
next level. The decision properly involved a million considerations, a
hundred thousand details, a millimultiplex of calculation. Yet the great
mind did not deliberate long.

It would wait.



Midmeal time. Sun directly overhead. On the Replerian AAnn chronometer,
half past M. Relaxation and off?duty. Freetime.

Well, not for all. But the three on?duty AAnn technicians took a vote. It
went unanimously for participating with most of the base. One, Cropih
LHNMPGT, was thirteen point eight credits ahead. His two companions were
not about to halt the Jinx game at that point.

So no one observed a certain gauge (measuring mental output of the thing
below via bioelectrochemical scanners) jump from a fraction of ONE to over
a HUNDRED. Jump once again, only this time off the gauge before settling
back, the thin metal off the arrow?indicator bent at an angle from being
slammed over so hard.

Nor did they notice the several sections of burnt?out wiring and melted
insulation. They might have noticed the trickle of green liquid from a
shattered fluid valve, but it evaporated while Cropih called six?twelve on
an angle roll and it came up. No one turned until the liquid was but an
insignificant stain on the sandy floor.



"It's a beautiful idea, isn't it, Malcolm?" Kitten murmured.

"Just Mal, if you please." The freighter?captain sounded pained.

Along with Porsupah, they were seated in the undersea view room. The
magnificent sub?surface panorama shifted continually in front of them.
They'd been given the run of the place "for the duration," as Kingsley had
put it. He'd installed them in guest quarters on the eighteenth floor. Mal
and Porsupah shared only one fear: that Kingsley's son Russell might put in
an appearance when Kitten was around. That happenstance would assure a
variety of mayhem, none of which could be beneficial to anyone. So far,
however, the young bastard hadn't put in an appearance, nor even a
transceiver call for all they knew.

Philip was off performing some errand for the alien. Pent never seemed to
rest?not that he hadn't had his fill of it, Kitten reflected.

They remained, enjoying the view, relaxing a bit. Kitten had said nothing
for some time, her mind obviously elsewhere. She abruptly informed them
where it had been.

"So I say again, I feet like a fool just sitting here? We can do something.
Besides relaying information to Orvy ... the Major. If Peat is right?well,
I think it ought to be checked out."

"I might have guessed," said Porsupah. "You want a look at this entity for
yourself."

"Well, Pent could be mistaken. If he's not, visual observation still ought
to be useful. Maybe he won't attack the thing now because he can't get near
it yet, for some reason. Perhaps it can sense his presence the way he
senses it. Maybe he's holding off for other reasons. But we ought to be
able to get near it."

"Oh great," groaned Porsupah. "Here we have a creature that's survived half
a million t?years plus. It supposedly has crossed intergalactic space,
destroyed civilizations, and you want to hop on a raft and go sightsee it.
Do I make arrangements to pack a lunch?"

"Don't be snide. Poet as much as said that it wouldn't do any harm yet. All
the more reason for gathering what first?hand information we can, while it
remains inactive. Are you saying that you're not curious and don't want to
go?"

Porsupah sighed through his whiskers. "You always tie things together. I'm
curious as hell. Of course I'm going."

"Me, I want to get back to my ship and forget this entire abomination,"
said Hammurabi. "But ff you think you can manage it, I'm damned if I'll
pass a chance to get a look 'at this thing. Might be some money in it, if
Kingsley hasn't got this end sewn up too tight. Just one thing, though."

"What?" said Kitten.

"How do you propose to find it? I doubt Peot would tell you. He seems to
feel strongly that humans should stay far away from it."

"But I don't think he'll stop us. You know how his `voice' fades as you
leave the chamber. His telepathic range, on our level, anyway, can't be
that great. Even if he can detect the Vom at a distance ...

"As for locating the creature," she continued brightly, "that's simple.
Poor said that the main body of his `Machine' is always positioned directly
above it. I can get the beacon's location from salvage authority without
Kingsley or anyone else knowing about it. Drop a line downwards; plot map,
find creature."

"You make it sound so easy," sighed Porsupah again.



The borrowed raft sped rapidly over the calm sea. They reached Repler City
ten minutes earlier than Mal had estimated. This was due at least in part
to Kitten's habit of making turns around intervening islands and reefs that
threatened to overturn the craft. Fortunately the hoverafts were
practically incapable of capsizing.

She almost managed it. Twice.

Instead of docking at the City harbor, they headed straight for the
auxiliary landing nearest the shuttleport itself.

The Port was located on a long peninsula. The surface had been planed off,
smoothed over, and pitted with sheds, warehouses, coking areas, launch
pits, hangers, fuel balloons, and a small but growing atmosphere dock. It
could handle shuttlecraft of all but the largest classes. The fine?grained
paving ran a running battle with the profuse island vegetation. The flora
took advantage of every crack and bare spot to press a vigorous, verdurous
counterattack.

The Port harbor area, for ships and hovercraft, wasn't designed to handle
much in the way of cargo. Those activities were carried on mostly at the
central city landings. But there was plenty of room for small commercial
and pleasure craft. Some of the island's wealthier inhabitants had yachts
and personal submarine vehicles moored there. The landing was located in a
small manmade cove at the U where the peninsula met the mainland:
Commercial buildings rose to the right, with private homes and hotels
behind and to the left, hidden behind carefully controlled vegetation.

There was a muted thrumming. Mal glanced briefly upwards. To their right a
shuttle of medium class was descending on a tail of fire. He'd watched
thousands of similar landings and equally conventional liftoffs. There'd
been a time when such displays filled him with wonder. Now only a few
figures passed through his mind. He could estimate the amount of thrust the
shuttle was putting out, its probable mass, even the position of its mother
ship. All in an unfamiliar atmosphere?. Given a visual check of the mother
vessel, he could probably gauge its home port and basal cargo.

There was a single check at the cove entrance. Kitten and Porsupah's
military credentials eased them past that. Kitten docked the raft with a
flair that displayed either tremendous skill or fantastic luck, sliding in
and spinning between two larger craft. They were so close their cushions
brushed.

A fast walkaway brought them to the Port Control buildings. They were a
humorous parody of the giant complexes maintained on major trading worlds.
As was typical of such smaller ports, certain offices were often combined.
This proved true of salvage and registry. The office itself was no
different from dozens of others they'd passed. Once inside, they were
greeted by a thirty-ish gentleman of nondescript physiognomy and few words.
He was casually attired in mesh and tropical lederhosen.

"Sit yourselves down. Be with you in a sec."

The slightly pallid official escorted them into an even tinier inner office
cluttered with charts and microfiles. A plethora of pins, tacks and
variegated markers swarmed over the maps and diagrams cluttering the walls.

"What'll I have for you, then?" he sighed, propping his feet up on the
desk. On a major planet the official would have crossed his hands, not his
ankles.

"Well..." began Mal.

"We'd like to confirm," interrupted Kitten, "the validity of a recently
reported salvage claim."

"You got the beacon number?"

Kitten prepared to consult her vocorder. She didn't even get a chance to
activate it.

"Never mind," the man said. "It's sixty?two."

"Yes. How the hell did you know?" asked Mal.

The official smiled slightly. "Wasn't hard. You're all clearly
extra?Replerian visitors. This is die first registry we've had reported in
several years. It seemed logical enough you wouldn't be interested in any
several years old ... I can tell you everything's in order. It's quite
legal. Fees were paid almost immediately after the beacon was registered.
Registration and claim are already recorded on Terra."

"Still, we want to make absolutely sure it's valid," persisted Kitten. "Not
that we've any thoughts of claim jumping, or anything along those lines."

"Perish forbid," the man grinned. "Wouldn't be my business if you did."

"In order to be valid," she continued doggedly, "all details on the
registration regarding location must coincide with the beacon's actual
positioning in space, right?"

"Naturally."

"Well, I'd like to have a check made on it. It's pretty important to us."
She purred, a semi?vocalization she was astonishingly good at, having
perfected it after considerable use: "We'd be ever so grateful."

"I'm sure you would, but I'm afraid I'm not permitted to pass around that
sort of information, m'lady."

Kitten breathed deeply and dropped her voice an octave. "Not even for
special requests from special friends?"

The official leaned close and breathed deeply. He lowered his voice an
octave.

"No."

Mal couldn't help grinning. If Mitten was fazed, she didn't show it.
Instead, she removed the vulcanite band from inside her left sleeve. On it
was the embossed symbol of the United Church: an hourglass enclosed by a
circle, with her name, number, and rank imprinted beneath it.

"Of course, if you put it that way, your command is my wish." He pulled a
bit of paper from a pad, swiveled, and began punching buttons on a computer
console.

"Isn't that saying the other way 'round?" queried Mal.

"I'm inherently masochistic." The official pulled a card from the printout
slot, viewed it on a small gray screen, then handed it to Mal. The
freighter?captain gave it a brief glance, nodded to the man.

"Thanks, old boy. You've been a help," said Kitten. They rose and turned to
leave.

"Curiously speaking," said the official hurriedly, "why didn't you just
tell me you were Church authority in the first place?"

"April Fool," said Kitten.

"But it's August."

"See?" She shut the door gently.



It was raining out, a warm, humid drizzle. They tools a private transit car
to the Port Library. Mal had informed them that it would do as well and be
quicker than returning to the Umbra. He checked charts and figures while
Porsupah and Kitten amused themselves by thumbing through samples of the
local literature?bad shorts, mediocre novels, some good poetry and fair
dream schemes.

Mal shifted his notes to a time?renting station and did some fast figuring
with the aid of the computer. After a bit he sat back, staring at the
readout screen. He was still staring some time after the green light on
top, indicating time?stop, had gone out.

"Well," said Kitten finally.

"Well, hell."

"I'm already aware of the proverbial location for the traditional one.
We're supposed to be looking for one a bit more localized."

He looked over at her, past the anxious Porsupah. "Guess where our
intergalactic boojum has chosen to hole up?"

"The governor's mansion," offered Porsupah, almost hopefully.

"Funny. Here." He pointed to a chart covered with rough lines and
scribbling, half in and half out of the printout slot. "Somewhere right
offshore the AAnn Concession."

"So?" she said.

"So? So?" He rose suddenly and stood glaring eye to eye with her. Hands
tightly clenched on hips, he controlled his anger with an effort. "Do you
have any idea what can happen to you if our peace?loving neighbor lizards
acquire even temporary possession of you?"

"Captain," she said boredly, turning her head away slightly, "kindly keep
in mind that I am an officer in the armed forces of the United Church. I am
fully aware of the consequences of being discovered without permission
within a diplomatic sanctuary. I am also more conversant than most with the
oh?so?delightful hobbies and habits of our reptilian friends. Including
their less savory ones. We shall avoid all potential unpleasantness through
a simple expediency."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"We shall endeavor not to get caught."

"Oh lovely! Universal beauty and logic! Kurita smite me if I've ever heard
such lucidity in the midst of storm. We will avoid being shot by dodging
the nerve?beams. I rhapsodize!" He was so upset he spoke in pidgin
Centaurian, a tongue especially suited to flights of sarcasm.

"A poor analogy," said Kitten.

"A poorer idea," Mal replied.

"Well, we're going anyway. Aren't we, Pots?"

The Tolian sighed. "I suppose so, soft?and?warm. I know that tone too we'll
to try mere reason on you."

"Marvelous, fine, delightful. I hope you have a charming tour, and that
when the AAnn prepare you. they use plenty of hot pepper!" He turned away
from them and began refiling the charts and maps.

Kitten turned as if to leave, stopped short, and turned again, smiling. She
performed one of the many small things she was adept at, that of relaxing
her body in certain specific places.

"Mal? Mister Hammu?rabi? I ... I'd really feel better if you'd come along.
Even if only as a gesture. To sort of, well, stay on top of things, you
know."

"That won't work with me," he mumbled. "And stop blowing in my ear. It only
gives me a headache."

"Oh, I don't really believe that. Besides, if you don't come ...' she did
something educated with her tongue, "... I'll inform the Major that you're
withholding information and material evidence concerning the transfer of
bloodhype. Specifically, the drug itself."

"That's my word against yours. And the stuff can, and will, be obliterated
if anyone, anyone at all, tries to grab it."

"Of course you can do that," she whispered, "but the charges and resultant
official actions during investigation would tie you up in orbit for the
longest time. Wouldn't that be awkward? You wouldn't be able to perform
your primary function, that of moving things from here to there in a
reasonable amount of time, like. your customers like you to."

The freighter?captain wheeled slowly, like a tank, to face her.

"All right. Have done, then." To her surprise, he smiled back. "You've
acquired a companion candidate for suicide, I promise. And I'll add another
promise. If we get out of this with neural networks intact, I shall,
despite whatever obstacles, writs, legislation, weaponry and so forth you
try to put in my path, despite arguments, questionings, philosophy and
couth, whale the tar out of yon."

"I knew you'd agree with me," she said briskly. "Most people do, sooner or
later. And I might add that my body contains no petroleum extracts. or
by?products of any kind. Nor am I affected by archaic threats which invoke
the cetacea as a verb." She stared hard.

"That's good," he said, deactivating the computer terminal. "You keep
telling yourself that."



It had been a difficult day, but the AAnn officer was too tired to be more
than moderately upset. First, an unchecked circuit had accidentally
tripped, setting off the alarm at one of the new, hastily installed
subsurface warning points scattered about the island. This automatically
activated two remote underwater defense stations and a whole subsection of
personnel directly attached to his command. The result being that a large
school of corvat, a medium?sized skate?like fish, had been incinerated
before he could bring things under control.

But Tivven hadn't been punished. He hadn't even received a dressing down.
His superior, with unusual restraint, recognized that the result was
entirely due to the haste with which the alarm unit bad been installed. And
he'd shared Tivven's disgust at the hysteria which attended the absurdly
complex system's installation, secret project or no.

Besides, his superior had problems of his own, equally upsetting to the
liver.

And now this.

He stared again at the assemblage before him, debating again whether or not
to trouble the base commander with it. According to Colonel Korpt's
dictates, it shouldn't be necessary. Tivven saw no real reason to argue
with an easy way out.

True, two violations of the Concession boundary in as many days was
unusual. Still, there was nothing to distinguish the antics of this
particular group from any other, nor to ascribe hidden purposes to their
arrival. They were nothing as extraordinary as the single crazy human who'd
sauntered in deliberately the other day, as though he owned the place. What
Tivven and the others couldn't understand was why the Commander hadn't
ordered the arrogant primate dressed and potted immediately.

So here he was, stuck with an obnoxious Terran female, an impatient,
gaudily dressed Tolian, and a stolid Terran male of dull aspect and rather
formidable size and strength.

The Terran female had been, rambling non?stop for a good twenty time?parts
now .

. . . and rest assured that once the governor hears my complaint, this is
going to be brought to the attention of the highest authorities ... !"

"Madame, silence!" Tivven tried to substitute belligerence for boredom,
partially succeeded. "I shall explain one more time. You are guilty of
territorial incursion into a restricted area. As such, by law you are now
in Imperial Territory. This places you under my jurisdiction: not that of
this planet, not that of the Commonwealth. Whatsoever I decide should be
done with you, will be done."

The female threw him a sharp expression. Tivven was good at primate
expressions. He could recognize a sneer. It suggested several things, among
them that his threats had been somewhat less than intimidating.

"Confine them to their vessel and secure them for the usual day?period."
Those were the suggestions of Colonel Korpt. "And issue the standard
protest to the governor win our representative in the capitol. Yolk, it's
damp in here! Now get out."

A check with Commander Parquit had produced similar action. Do whatever
Korpt says. I'll sign the orders later? whenever. I'm busy now. Oh, and
make certain, Lieutenant, that they stay on board their caft ... I assume
they came by hoveraft?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"I don't want them wandering around, They sound like a typical tourist
hunch, and so I don't expect?otherwise from them. But if one is found
strolling about loose, front canines will be lost. Understand?"

Tivven understood.

He looked up at the group, tired, .

"You are hereby confined to your ship until further notice'

"Just who do you think you are, ordering us around, mister luggage?covers?"
piped the Tolian. His whiskers bristled angrily. "Such an insulting
attitude is here perpetrated! By a scaly underling, no less, who ... !"

" ... where you will be placed under guard. You are not to leave the vessel
under any circumstances under penalty of. a swift death," Tivven concluded
doggedly. He gestured to the guard at the door.

"Escort them back to their vessel, sergeant, and post guard on it. They are
not to depart until ordered. If ordered:"

The sergeant, who had played this game before, saluted snappily?he was a
fifteen?year veteran of this egg?forsaken post. He gestured towards the
door with his stungun.

Tivven could hear the shrill voice of the Terran female echoing back up the
corridor long after the three had departed. Swiveling in his chair, he
activated the autolog and commenced dictating the ponderous official
report. He wondered if anyone ever read the things. He doubted it. This
particular time he would be right. But not for the reasons he suspected.

The guard, like all guards since the beginning of time assigned to boring,
monotonous, unrelieved, insipid night duty when most sensible beings were
asleep, was wishing he was. Perhaps the wishes were effective. More likely
it was just coincidence. Certainly, if he'd been questioned about it later,
it wasn't likely he'd recall the small sting at the back of his neck
immediately prior to his lapsing into a period of extended sleep.

He probably would have wished to observe the being responsible for inviting
Morpheus. Likely, though, he would have argued the method.

Kitten approached quietly after spotting the all?well Signal from Porsupah.
The Tolian stood by the body, searching the surrounding darkness. She ran
lightly over to him. Her goggles picked up and intensified the starlight to
the point where it seemed bright as day. Porsupah didn't wear them. He
didn't need any.

She joined him in scanning the grounds, paying special attention to the
three big crates stacked on the pier. That was one of their prearranged
ambush points. She bent over the inert reptile, felt for its pulse. The
tiny puncture made by the drug?carrying dart had already closed. There was
practically no blood. After a moment's consideration she put a second dart
next to the first, just to the left of the armored spine.

A larger, blocky figure joined the two.

"Other one's taken care of," Mal murmured. "No sign of activity from the
building we were herded out of. I'm a bit surprised its been so easy."

"They weren't exactly expecting it," she replied.

"Witherest fly we now; and how, princess?"

"If thats poetry, it's execrable."

"No, as a matter of fact, it's Whalen."

"Buffon. I thought you were the one afraid of being soup."

"I still am," he whispered tightly. "So I make jokes. So get your ass
moving and I'll follow quietly."

"I could use a little more information first."

"Why don't you ask our somnolent companion here." Mal nudged the sleeping
guard, who didn't stir.

"You're the one who did the map plotting on the creature. Didn't you
pinpoint it?"

"At that range? With a library 'puter?"

The first moon was climbing rapidly. In a while the second would be in the
sky, brightening the island considerably. Kitten turned and scanned the
area again. A few lights glimmered in buildings half?glimpsed through thick
vegetation. Nothing moved but branches.

"I wouldn't bet it was close inshore. It can't be all that enormous?the
island certainly isn't. I'd think the AAnn would have noticed it if it were
close in."

"Maybe we're not on top of it, but it is close to shore. Could be the AAnn
are myopic from so much moisture. My calculations weren't that far off."

"Still, if we can spot it," added Porsupah, "you'd think the AAnn would
have."

"Yes, you would," said Kitten thoughtfully. "Still, they've no reason to
suspect its presence, as we have."

"Could be it has a way of evading alarms similar to the one we tripped
coming in," said Mal. "Why it would want to hang around a populated, armed
area like this one beats me, though."

"Maybe to study," replied Kitten, shuddering slightly.

"Too many imponderables," chipped in Porsupah. "Let's circle the island. We
might not spot the thing itself, but we'll be looking for signs of its
presence, whereas the AAnn wouldn't be. If you two just want to argue about
it, go back to the raft."

The two humans said nothing. They followed the small alien at a comfortable
trot up the pebbled beach. Neither of the two humans could still believe
that the AAnn hadn't spotted the creature. But then it was hard to believe
the creature, too.

They'd been jogging along the curving shoreline for perhaps five minutes
when Porsupah halted them. He was staring out to sea.

"Well, what have you spotted? At this point I'm not too choosy," Mal said.
They'd already had to put out two more AAnn and avoid or inconvenience
several elaborate alarm systems. At this rate they'd never cover a tenth of
the island's perimeter. Assuming they weren't shot or blown ship?high
first. But Kitten and Porsupah seemed to recognize the concealed triggers
as though they'd set them themselves. Mal hadn't noticed a one.

The question of what such an extensive network of alarms was doing in a
supposedly innocuous area was another problem that defied logic.

What they needed, dammit, was a few answers!

Porsupah had knelt and was examining the sand. He took up a small pawful,
rubbed the grains between his fingers, sniffed at it. Abruptly he turned
and walked back about ten meters along their route. He performed a similar
ritual there, then returned. To their questioning stares he replied, "This
section of beach and forest wasn't arranged by nature. Not only is the sand
different taken up from a respectable depth, I think?but the rocks and
overall landscape have an unnatural feel to them that I can't explain in
terranglo or symbospeech. Everything is just a little bit cockeyed."

Mal took a long look at the sloping beach, the thick semi?jungle. "I can't
detect anything out of the ordinary."

"Nor I," said Kitten, the landscape glowing eerily in her goggles. "But I
believe you, Pors."

"There is only one structure visible, too." The Tolian pointed.

A long, low building, set back in the trees. It ran perpendicular to the
beach and was a little over a story high. As they walked towards the
windowless structure, Mal noticed that an occasional tree ?not all, by any
means? was tilted at an angle that deviated sufficiently from the norm to
be noticeable. If you happened to be looking for such things. There was no
question about it now. This section of Replerian real estate had been
rebuilt, delicately rebuilt, to suit some specific purpose. Moreover, it
had been done recently, according to Pors. This suggested hurry, which in
turn suggested a need for secrecy. And it had been rearranged to look like
it hadn't been rearranged, which hinted at a deal more.

The building proved to be unguarded. It was painted, almost enameled, a
dark gray?green. A dull roaring sound emanated from somewhere inside.
Kitten put a hand against the wall. It vibrated slightly.

"Look for a door," Porsupah suggested. "I'm going to check something else."

The Tolian disappeared into the jungled darkness. The door turned up almost
immediately, recessed in the side they were on.

Interesting," murmured Mal. He was staring at the AAnn lettering on the
airlock?type portal. "It says?"

"I can read AAnnish," said Kitten.

Porsupah returned a moment later, puffing out short, whistling breaths.

"Where've you been?" asked Kitten.

"Up a tree. Whoof! I wanted a quick look at the top of this thing, and we
didn't truck along a ladder."

"See anything?" asked Mal.

"The building runs I couldn't say how far back into these trees. Top of it
is all ventilators. Big ones. You can see the fans from high enough.
They're well screened and you'd never notice them from the air, but this
close? no mistaking them."

"Well now, this is interesting," said Kitten, staring at the door. "This
inscription here declares solemnly that anyone who enters without six kinds
of ultra?top?high security passes is assured ail sorts of lengthy and
painful deaths."

"Ultra?secret ventilator complex pulling lots of air someplace, combined
with a thoroughly dug up and replanted section of beach and forest. Need
one say more?" the Tolian announced.

Kitten was already examining the lock.



"It doesn't take an expert to tell this whole setup was put together
recently," said Mal. He ran a hand over the gleaming guard rail.
"Practically factory fresh."

They'd been descending helical steps for what seemed a small part of a
year. They'd found an elevator inside but after some discussion had passed
it up for fear of not pushing the proper button and setting off hidden
alarms. Not to mention the possibility of meeting someone unpleasant at the
end of the shaft. The stairwell seemed a better bet. The only place it
registered a power drain was in the back of Kitten's legs.

"The construction is solid, but still far from well integrated," Mal
continued. "Place was built in a hurry, for sure."

With Porsupah in the lead, they reached the end of the stairway. It
terminated in a small room filled with tools and boxes of unknown content.
The Tolian started off down a long, dimly lit tunnel. Their goggles made it
as bright as the main terminus in Terraport. The direction led out under
the sea.

The tunnel opened abruptly onto a brightly lit corridor lined with doors
and hastily thrown?together decorative tiles. A surprised shout in a
guttural voice sounded just ahead.

Kitten pulled her tiny pistol, dropped to her right knee and fired, all in
one motion. The AAnn technic crumpled after taking two steps away from
them.

They dragged the still body a few meters into the dark of the tunnel,
reemerged cautiously into the light of the corridor.

"We can't keep this up indefinitely, you know," said Mal, trying to look
fourteen ways at once. "They're going to start finding these bodies
eventually."

"Eventually is not immediately," whispered Kitten, panting slightly. The
technic had been heavy for an AAnn. "It will be assumed for some time yet
that those we put under are asleep or elsewhere. Hopefully, even if one or
two are discovered by accident, no one will think to connect them up until
we've departed. Anyway, the AAnn hate to be out at night and do so only
when ordered. They certainly need their beauty sleep."

"It won't be assumed they fell asleep if some casual passerby spots a
couple of those darts sticking out of his friend's neck."

Kitten answered between breaths as they jogged around another corner. "The
darts themselves are made from a specially constituted gelatin. It
dissolves untraceably into, the bloodstream. It also contains a coagulating
agent to halt bleeding around the wound. Thirty seconds after impact, it
would take careful chemical analysis of the blood to tell that a target's
been drugged, much less shot."

Mal examined his own pistol with renewed interest as they swung to their
left. A trade item with excellent possibilities. True, it might not be for
sale by the Church, but still ...

"Here's one that says `Life?Systems Monitoring,"' said Kitten. "It's the
first one I've seen with that blue danger seal on it. Let's try it."

The latch lifted easily to Porsupah's soft touch and he slipped inside,
Kitten following close behind and Mal covering.

There were three AAnn in the room. All wore similar expressions of surprise
and bewilderment at the nocturnal alien invasion. One soldier and two
scientist?types, judging by the toga?chainmail of the intellectual elite
the others wore.

The soldier's hand got about halfway to the ugly pistol strapped to his
haunch before he collapsed on his snout, unconscious. The younger of the
two scientists continued to stare in disbelief until he was sent sleepward.
The oldster, however, made a dive for something at the far end of the big
central console. He didn't reach it. Singeing Porsupah's left shoulder,
Kitten caught the scientist in the midsection. He doubled up in midair and
she shot him again, to make sure.

Mal took a fast glance up and down the, corridor, then closed the door.
Kitten was replacing the gas cartridge and dart cluster in her pistol. At
the same time she was examining the section of console the scientist had
been trying to reach. Mal looked at her questioningly and she indicated a
clearly marked azure button.

"General alarm. Close."

Porsupah was rubbing his shoulder where the hot gas from her pistol had
singed him. "Good! If it were anything less, soft?and?round, I'd mark you."

"They're all quite alive, if not kicking," she said, turning over the last
of the three. Mal and Porsupah had moved to a wide glassite panel and were
staring unmoving into it. She put hands on hips. "Well, aren't you even
interested?"

"Come and take a look at this," whispered Porsupah without turning from the
glass.

"What could fascinate you cretins so ..." She caught sight of what lay
beyond the panel and stopped talking'.

A Brobdinguagian chamber showed on the other side. If was brightly, almost
painfully, illuminated. Small silver?suited figures of what were clearly
AAnn technics clustered in groups about the wall to their left. Most of the
chamber was filled with a gigantic spheroid of nightmare black. It quivered
slightly here and there, like jelly. The fur at the back of Porsupah's neck
stood on end.

There was a sharp crackling sound, audible through a speaker set above one
cabinet of instruments. A small bolt of electricity jumped from a far
device to the ebony mountain. Ponderously, the massive bulk shifted away
from the generator. It flowed/crawled towards them. Another crackling
followed and the second bolt drove the thing back to the center of the
chamber. It halted just short of three silver?suited figures.

"Well, that explains a lot,' Kitten murmured. "The AAnn have some peculiar
tastes, all right. Can't say I care for their style in pets."

"That winds down the `invincible alien' theory of our resurrected friend,"
said Mal grimly. "Our bescaled neighbors seem to have managed to keep it in
hand."

"Directing it, too," put in Porsupab thoughtfully. "Moving it from place to
place via electrical stimulation. Conditioning."

"Could be Peot overestimated its powers. Just sizewise, though, it's plenty
big enough to do a lot of damage, improperly directed," said Kitten.

"Direction depends on your point of view," said Mal.

"You're always looking for an angle, aren't you, throwback? That's the sort
of evaluation I'd expect from one of them." She pointed at a cluster of
techs.

"Listen, I've had just about?"

"Surely," Porsupah put in hastily, "it is of sufficient mass to destroy a
good?sized village. And it may be an especially tough organism. Such a
creature could indeed prove a formidable threat on a world as undeveloped
as Repler."

"We've no assurance they plan anything along those lines," said Kitten. Mal
snorted. "Still, I think it's time we concluded our temporary circumvention
of the official policy on non?intrusion into Concession territory. Let's
get back to the raft." She headed for the door, Mal and Porsupah following.

"Do I detect the advocation of violence in your words?" asked Porsupah. "It
would amount to an act of war."

"You think the AAnn would risk a full?scale confrontation over violation of
territory on this tiny base?"

"Of course not," the Tolian continued. "But if they feel this project of
theirs could develop into something significant..:'

"I see. Well, I wasn't considering it seriously, anyway. Fortunately, it's
not our decision to make. I have a hunch that if the Major calls the AAnn
Commander for a friendly chat and just casually mentions that he's fully
aware of what's going on here, the AAnn won't be as inclined to try
anything drastic. Not if they know they'll be held accountable."

"By the time the Commander here figures out how to proceed," she continued,
"something appropriate will have been worked out in the way of restraints
at the ambassadorial level. Which is all that needs to be done, I think.
Obviously Peot has grossly overestimated this thing's abilities. Or else
it's been dormant so long it's lost whatever it once might have had in the
way of strange powers."

"One thing," said Mal. "If they follow what I understand is their usual
procedure in cases like ours, we ought to be let go some time tomorrow.
Next day at the' latest. With a verbal reprimand. But there :s always the
chance something might hold up our leave?taking."

"Oh, I didn't intend to wait until they let us go," said Kitten, jogging
easily on the sandy flooring. "We'll broadcast from the raft first thing in
the morning. Their own transceivers ought to be busy then."

"They're certain, to be monitoring us as a matter of course," he replied.
"You know they'll pick up any broadcasting you do."

"I expect them to. But all they'll hear is a typical screeching performance
via my alias to Church authorities. That alone ought to be enough to make
any listeners switch off. The real message won't be transmitted in words."

"Phycode," said Mal, pursing his lips. "You can do that?" He sounded
surprised.

"Of course, silly!" Unexpectedly, she giggled, green glass chimes. For a
battle?rated officer, it was indecently infectious. A corner of her mouth
went up; then a cheek, the left one, twitched twice. An ear wiggled.

"I just made a long, involved comment about your probable ancestry. An AAnn
wouldn't have detected a thing. To a perceptive human I'd appear to be
afflicted with a slight case of the fidgits. But to someone versed in the
code... "

" ... I'd have seemed properly insulted, I know," Mal said. "I've heard
about it, but never seen it?or have I?

"That's what I mean," she grinned. "I'm very good at it." They'd reached
the bottom of the stairwell. Porsupah started up.

"You're sure that when all these lizards come around, they won't remember
what happened to them? Those three in the monitoring section, for example."

Her voice drifted back from just ahead. "They'll be out for at least
another hour yet. No, they won't. In addition to being a strong soporific,
the drug conveniently wipes out memory just prior to being administered. An
intentional side effect. But if we'd taken a minute or two longer with
those three, they'd remember enough to make things awkward."

The sun and the first guard were just coming up as they reentered the sleek
sportsraft. Kitten was the first to her own cabin. She changed from the
skin?tight, light?bending black crawfit to something suitably grotesque and
flamboyant for a young lady of her assumed station. It wouldn't do for an
AAnn vidcast scanner to pick her up transceiving in a one?piece suit
designed to create an effect of semi?invisibility.

Mal and Porsupah changed a bit faster, not having to be concerned with such
details as, for example, coiffure. Kitten essayed a few eloquent twitches,
paraphrastically speaking, and felt up to the task. She'd have to trust to
memory and improvisation to handle the verbal park of the act.

Porsupah waved as she entered the plush control lounge. He was adjusting
the transceiver. The AAnn would almost surely pick up the cast, but it
didn't hurt to try for as tight a beam as possible, anyway.



"The arrival of your friend with the shipment you requested is due shortly,
I am told," said Commander Parquit. Rose walked comfortably at his side.

"A few necessities and items of nostalgic value."

"I'm sure," Parquit replied drily. "If the shipment is as small as you
claim, then both you and your materials will be removed to orbit, there to
await an appropriate transport as rapidly as can be managed, as per our
agreement. An event which I look forward to with more than a modicum of
pleasure." The Commander was making no effort to hide his dislike.

"You don't seem to care for me especially," offered Rose.

"I am not fond of your race, as few of my kind are. You strike me
additionally as a particularly loathsome example. We can bargain without
friendship. It is not required I kiss you."

"Not sure I'd care for that myself."

"I advise you not to have worries on that account. Must you carry that
thing everywhere?" He indicated the metal case with its explosive, deadly
contents. One breath of the powder could kill any of his command slowly and
painfully.

"Oh, it's not activated just now for my, ah, bargaining purposes. Sorry if
it makes you nervous. It's just that I've gotten in the habit of not
letting it out of my sight. Not that I'd expect you ever goin' back on your
word, you understand."

Parquit made an A?Ann expression indicative of nausea, coupled with
unconcern.

"Just that I feel more secure with it near me, see?"

"I neither pretend nor care to," the Commander replied.

"Incidentally, where are we headed?"

"Harbor Control." They halted outside a door. Sensing their body heat, the
semi?transparent portal slid back.

They entered a wide room that was completely transparent from walls to
ceiling. Only the floor was opaque. They were not terribly high. Still,
there was no sense in subjecting some timorous controller to vertigo. It
wasn't necessary to see beneath one's feet. They were in the approximate
center of the island, just above the tallest trees of the forest.

"As your companion is due with your possessions soon, I would prefer you to
be here. There ?should be no confusion if the agreed?upon coding is
properly utilized. A proper visual identification, however, is far
preferable. I have reasons for such precautions. Someone else could have
intercepted the coding. This way we will be certain."

"Afraid of something, old skin?"

"No more so than normal. Besides, anything that will aid in expediting your
removal gives me enjoyment. Other matters press heavily on my time. Rest
assured, however, that getting rid of you is foremost in my mind."

"Flattery'll get you nowhere."

The Commander was already talking to a detec operator. "Communication from
the anticipated arrival yet?"

"No, your Excellency. The channel is held open, though."

"Good. Notify if?"

"Excellency?" Parquit turned.

"What is it, Harbormaster Third?"

"Pardon, your Excellency, for disturbing. The Terran female is
broadcasting. Directionally, it appears, to somewhere within the central
city."

"A logical place." Parquit was only mildly interested. "I did not know that
a raft of that class could beam so far directionally."

"Some have the capability, Excellence. Boostering and expensive
modifications."

Parquit grunted. "Nothing of interest, presumably?"

"No, Excellency. Nothing unique. It appears to be a series of complaints
distinguished only by their vituperativeness. Should I try to damp her
out?"

"No, let her rave. Hopefully she will annoy the humanx authorities as she
has us. I would not personally inflict such a female on the most desperate
mate?seeker. Such selfrighteousness! I understand this grouping has been an
abnormally difficult one."

"Abnormally vocal, anyway, Excellence," smirked the Harbormaster.

"You're holding a group of people?" Rose inquired. He'd understood enough
of the preceding conversation.

"No, not people. Humans, and one other. Tourists. Along with an occasional
commercial fisher, who hopes to find an unfinshed area close to the center
of population, they sometimes stray within Concession boundaries. Most such
are the result of honest errors of navigation. Others do so, I suspect in
the hopes of achieving a small thrill. Unfortunately, I cannot react as I
would prefer. This would entail frying the lot of them. We are `at peace,'
you see. So such actions are proscribed by treaty. I believe some would
actually enjoy the threat. Most merely express outrage that we constrain
their sacrosanct person. You are the first, I regret, to arrive here with
purpose."

"What do you do with them?"

"Hold them over for a day, make brief suggestions of bodily dismemberment,
lodge a protest with the authorities, who, I understand, sometimes even
actually levy a fine on the offenders."

"You said humans and `one other."'

"A Tolian. Petty aristocrat. These small mammals ..." Parquit paused. Rose
bad turned away and was trying hard to control himself. "Does it shame you
so much?"

"It's laughter I'm trying to hold back, not shame, your scaliness! Two
humans and a Tolian. One large male and one exceptionally attractive
female?"

"By your standards, as I vaguely comprehend them, yes. How do you know?"

"And you don't want visitors. Oh, Luna! ... Listen, brighteyes. The female
and the furry posturer are Church undercover agents, both officers. The
male is an independent freighter?captain with more connections than an
all?purpose 'puter linkup. In the words of ancient hue, me boyoh, you've
been took!" The drugger burst into laughter, causing heads to turn in the
control room.

Parquit did not betray any emotion beyond a slight tightening of horny
lips.

"Harbormaster Third, damp that broadcast!"

"Excellency!" The reptile jumped at the sting in the command.

"Controller! Kindly inform the sergeant in charge of that landing section
to conduct our visitors to my rooms. Under guard. Put their raft under
cross?coverage from harbor turrets. If they make the slightest move to
depart, destroy them."

"It is done, Excellence."

"Hey, no reason to jump on them like that! They're probably lookin' for
me," said Rose.

Parquit turned and gave the drug?runner such an intense stare that the
normally stolid Rose looked away.

"You flatter yourself, human. As you said, it gets one nowhere. I have
reason to believe they are here for reasons and purposes other. I am
admittedly curious as to how you know them."

"They're the ones?the two agents, anyway?who've forced my reluctant and
hasty departure from these parts."

"I see. Reason enough to condemn them, for inflicting you on me. I
sometimes wish for more primitive days, when decisions were a simple
question of sharper teeth and stronger claw. Yet I endeavor to cope with
civilization. Come along. You may be of some use, Sand knows."

Parquit headed for? the door, paused at a word from the Harbormaster.

"What is it, Third?"

"Excellence, the human's expected shipment has contacted us."

"Monitor it closely." He turned back to Rose. "You will remain to make
visual identification. Following that, direct yourself to my rooms."



The series of rapid, ultra?high?frequency numbers was picked up, recorded
and transcribed by the Rectory 'puters. Coupled with the phycoded
information just received, they were sufficient to send the padre in charge
scurrying for the Major's office.



"You realize your confession of your profession is a mere formality now,"
said Parquit. "I am as certain of it as of my own ancestral tree. It is
your purpose that concerns me more. You no more landed here by accident
than I did by desire. Why not observe courtesy, be polite, and tell me
freely? I shall be courteous in turn. I will not have you shot out of hand
... No, please, young female. Subside. No more imagined insults. Surely the
maintenance of this act is as wearisome to you as it is to me. I could
search your vessel. Interesting things would no doubt turn up. But should
they, I would be impelled by precedent to have you exterminated. I would
far rather have answers to some questions? before."

"Poo! Commander, this has now become exasperating. The sheer size of this
illusion you have drawn for yourself makes me fear for you."

"Your sudden solicitation for my good health is out of character, female."

"You are perfectly welcome to search our ship, if it will cure you."

"Those who have no options are generous ..." began the commander.

"You won't find anything more espionage?oriented than a few typical, if
expensive, cameras. The tapes in them contain only shots of water and
island scenery?not this island, nor its surrounding water. Where your
suspicions arise from escape me."

"They arose from me," came a voice from the doorway. "Dear me, a pun." The
drugger strode past the startled group. "I'm surprised, yes, and
disappointed, to see you still tied up with these two, Hammurabi. No profit
in it, no profit at all." He shook his head slowly, mournfully.

"I think I see your point now," began Mal reasonably. "It sure looks like
you've been right all along. Maybe we ought to reconsider..."

The drugger lit one of his few remaining dopesticks, ignoring Parquit's
expression of disgust. "Uh?uh. Too much hate in your eyes. Angle of lips,
position of head ... no, you'd strangle me first chance you got, on general
principles alone. Besides, judging just from your plain stupid relationship
with these two," he gestured at Kitten and Pors, "you'd be a poor risk."

"You find some funny holes to crawl into, drugger," said Kitten.

He smiled. "I only go where I'm wanted. Commander, here, is a spiritual
relative."

"Hold your insults, yon push me too far!" said Parquit.

"Easy, Commander, easy." Rose hefted the ever?present metal ease, shook it
gently. "I've still my little surprise box."

"If you coerce me to the edge," the Commander said tightly, "a momentary
insanity on my part could destroy us all. Your package of. supposed drug
concerns me less and less."

"Okay, okay. Forget it."

"No wonder the local police couldn't find you," broke in Porsupah.

"You contacted your supplier?" asked Parquit.

"Yep.

"You have now that which you require for departure?"

"Pretty much. Can't be as picky as I'd like at this stage. At least
everything got here intact. I was worried about him having to dodge huananx
patrols. Young for the job, but he managed. If they bothered to plot his
course, it would provide another reason for not troubling him. Your
reputation for hospitality isn't supposed to encourage visitors."

A young man appeared in the portal. He was tall and good?looking.

"Everything you wanted's been transferred off the raft, Dom, so?

"You!" The scream of recognition was only half feminine. Kitten threw
herself at the figure. A guard, energy rifle at the ready, interposed
himself. She stared at the weapon for a long moment as though debating
whether to try passing the guard anyway, hands at her sides, breathing
heavily.

"You appear to be acquainted with this slug's associate," said Parquit in
lucid understatement. He'd been surprised himself by the violence of her
reaction.

"We've met," said Russell Kingsley. He eyed her warily across the room.



Peot was alone. In a universe of a trillion souls, he was, would always be,
had been, alone. He'd lived non?life too long and now must live an unwanted
real?life a while longer. Hurry. Hurry hurry hurry.

After several eternities, it was not easy to move with concern.



Orvenalix deliberated about two minutes before flipping a switch on his
desk com.

"Get me the governor's residence, operator."

"Processing, sir."

After a few seconds the haze on the screen cleared to reveal a
spectacularly pneumatic human female. She was seated behind a small
mahogany and brass desk. Her tone was lazy.

"I am sorry, Major Orvenalix, but the governor left explicit instructions
that he was not to be disturbed until further notice."

"I see. Well. Fine. You give the good governor this message for me, then.
Tell him that as of," he glanced at the wrist chronometer set into the
chiton of his left truarm "three minutes ago, three especially equipped
patrol submersibles of the Replerian Domestic Commerce and Customs
Protection Association were dispatched by me at maximum cruising speed for
the Imperial AAnn Enclave, where they will attempt to carry out the release
of two human and one Tolian prisoner. Should the AAnn Commander refuse to
comply with this request, the commander of the three vessels has been
empowered to secure their release by force ... Tell him this straight and
tell him this now, or you'll find yourself tomorrow in the awkward and much
less relaxing position of scraping willoweed off the hulls of shrimp
trawlers over in Faertown."

To her credit, the professional smile remained frozen on the girl's face.
The difference now was that the ice showed.

"I will give him the message, Major." She stood. .

"And I might suggest a more regulated intake of oxygen. Your present rate
of consumption intrigues me only as a xenobiological curiosity. Save it for
those it may affect."

She fled from range of the pickup.

You deserve to have your antennae knotted, you old reprobate! That was
unnecessary.

The message was designed to produce results. It did. Governor Washburn was
on the screen almost immediately, fumbling with the clasps of his blouse.
His appearance was generally rumpled and unkempt. Well, that was too bad.
This was one siesta the planetary major?domo would have to forego.

Now, however, he was wide awake?and angry.

"Deity, Major! Primal urges. Obscenity! What is all this about? If you
wished to begin an interstellar war in my jurisdiction, you might at least
inform me in advance."

"I think you can discount the possibility of any extra-Replerian conflict,
Governor."

"You bet your mandibles we can!" the executive roared. "I'm countermanding
those orders now! I want those subs back in port and docked quietly by
sundown! I want their captains and crews restricted to quarters until they
can be properly instructed about keeping their mouths shut concerning this
whole fiasco. There may still be time to keep this out of the faxpax."

"I'm afraid I'll be compelled to neglect those instructions, Governor. But
this will be kept as quiet as possible. The three submersibles are under
order to observe strict cast silence until something has been resolved?one
way or the other."

"I see." Washburn did. He could recognize a fact when it crawled all over
his face. This ability put him a cut above politicians on more "civilized"
worlds, who'd lost the talent. "Perhaps some good will come of this,
anyhow. Running a backwards, nowhere world like Repler is thankless enough.
At least I'll have the pleasure?if we survive ?of seeing you demoted to the
point where you'll no longer be an irritation to me."

"All things are possible, Governor," Orvenalix said soothingly. "But for
now, I suggest you compose yourself as well as you're able. It's not
unlikely that we'll be hearing from the Commander of the AAnn base. When he
does contact you, I'd suggest moving away from the speaker and lowering the
volume somewhat. He will likely not be inclined to sweet reasonableness. I
have the utmost confidence in your ability to handle the conversation which
will ensue."

Later, neither could remember who cut the other off first.



"Move away, female!" hissed Parquit. "I'll have no blood spilled here
without consent." Reluctantly, Kitten backed up to stand between Mal and
Porsupah.

The guard returned silently to his station. Kingsley walked over to Rose,
grinning. "Looking feisty as ever,, isn't she, Dom?"

Rose whispered. "Be quiet, you fool. There's trouble for you here."

"Nonsense! She's the prisoner. Wasn't she put off to see me, though?" He
chuckled.

"You have a grudge against this male?" asked Parquit. The question was
purely rhetorical.

Her voice was even, without a hint of the emotion boiling beneath it. "He
spent a small time, recently, doing unwanted, ungentlemanly things to me,
Excellency. But I endeavor to always remain ladylike. I promise to make his
death as quick as possible."

"Did you do as she claims?" said Parquit interestedly. He turned to face
Kingsley. "Is that essentially true?"

Kingsley was no interpreter of AAnn intonation, but he was suddenly on
guard. "Not exactly, I ... "

"... lie a lot," the Commander added. He examined the youngster closely.
Kingsley shifted uncertainly under the close observation.

"You don't appear to be armed."

"I'm not. Your people took my weapons as soon as I landed."

"As was only appropriate. It would be required now anyway. Such things
would impair the engagement."

"Engagement? What engagement?"

"Well, it seems the young lady made a vow. Under AAnn social convention, I
should not attempt to prevent her fulfilling it. As my having her for
dinner would certainly do. And despite your species' noted predilection for
personal combat, one which I am told approaches our own, I have never had
the opportunity to observe such an action. I've seen transceived casts of
simulations, but never one in person. It should prove entertaining. I am in
dire need of such, these days."

"Now look here, Excellency, I'm a guest. Surely?"

"Death?vows take precedence over common, let alone forced, hospitality."

"But I'm not an AAnn! I'm not subject to your social conventions."

"Then why do you and your superior claim sanctuary? For yourself? you do
not even understand your own reasoning. Pagh!"

"Excellence," Rose began. The Commander turned sharply, as if anticipating
the sentence to follow. He gestured at Kingsley.

"This one means so much to you?" Parquit was watching the drugger closely.

"It's not that, really, but?"

"You bastard!" Kingsley shouted. "You rotten, putrid ... !" He took a step
towards the older man, halted when the guard's rifle came up menacingly.

"My, everyone wishes to kill everyone else," Parquit mused. "I'm not
unfamiliar with humanx history. If you humans hadn't encountered the thranx
when you did, it's conceivable you would have both been sufficiently weak
for us to defeat you. A black day when that meeting first took place.
Otherwise we would now be in a position to pursue our natural destiny of
galaxy?wide domination at a more natural pace."

"Don't hold your breath," said Mal.

Parquit turned to face the freighter?captain. "Periodic minor conflict is
necessary in order to correctly ascertain an opponent's strength before
waging war, man. We made an improper evaluation last time. We will not make
the same error again."

"Okay, I retract the request. Hold your breath."

The Commander ignored him, turned to Kitten. "So, young female. Is the
center of my office agreeable to you?..

"Just give me an arm's length." She smiled ferociously.

Rose made a last try. "This does violate accepted standards of politeness,
Excellence."

When Parquit had concluded the AAnn laughterequivalent, he spoke again.
"See? A good idea! I am amused already. To hear you complain of a violation
of politeness. To hear you cite accepted standards. How many standards of
civilization have you violated? How many beings owe the visit of the
Thiever?of?Thoughts to you? The Mindburner? Or He?Who?Walks?Blacksand? Do
not speak to me of politeness! ... You! Are you afraid of this female? You
substantially outmass her."

"No, your Excellency. Save your insults for this ... this maggot. I'll
fight her."

"Then be to it! I give you," he checked his own timepiece, "ten time?parts.
No one will interfere."

Kitten shrugged out of the elaborate confection of crepe and silk. She
crumpled the delicate material into a wad, handed it to Porsupah. Moving
away to one side of her companions, she stood in very unregulation
undergarments.

"Must you fight indecently, too?" said Porsupah.

"That's funny coming from you, you lecherous muskrat! This isn't going to
be pretty, and I could barely walk in that thing. Give me a kiss for luck.
And stop playing with your whiskers. It makes me nervous to see you
nervous." Porsupah dropped both hands awkwardly to his sides.

Mal knelt until his head was on a level with the smaller Tolian's. "He
outweighs her by a good 30 kilos and he doesn't look slow. You think she
can handle him?"

"I don't know. She does."

Kingsley found Rose and the AAnn Commander staring at him interestedly.
After all the talk, the silence in the under?room weighed heavily on him.

He took a step towards Kitten. Another. "Listen," he said, smiling
nervously. "If you want an apology or whatever, I'm willing to go through
the whole bit. We all seem to be in the same ship here." He held out a
hand.

"You really feel that way?" She relaxed. "Well, I suppose I'd gain merit by
forgiving. Once, anyway. As you say, we do seem to have the same
unpromising future."

Kingsley let out a deep breath. "I was hoping you'd feel that way." He
stepped forward abruptly, his left leg coming up in a vicious hsi kick,
using the tibia like a knife?edge, aiming for her temple.

Her right arm shot up as she dropped, deflecting the kick over her head. At
the same time, her left arm drove forward from her hip, knuckles first. Her
awkward position caused her to miss the solar plexus, hitting him slightly
low.

Kingsley whoofed loudly and stumbled backwards, one hand going to his
stomach.

Porsupah whispered to Mal, "Kitten comes out ahead on the first exchange of
greetings."

Kingsley moved forward, trying an unsubtle right chop. She didn't even
bother to block it, but spun to her left, jumping and twisting in one
motion. Her heel hit him on the side of the jaw, He crumpled to the stone
flooring, scattering sand, and had enough left to roll to his feet. He came
up spitting blood and white splinters and there was nothing civilized left
in his expression.

His rush was completely unchecked, animal?like. She hit him sharply on the
side of the neck. It slowed but didn't stop him. His head hit her hard in
the midsection and they tumbled into a complex, flowerlike table
arrangement to her right. Rose had to scramble to get out of the way.

Despite the destruction, Parquit was enjoying himself hugely. Personal
combat was one of the highest arts of the AAnn. This exotic spectacle was
one few among even the highest nobles could afford to have staged.

Kingsley staggered dazedly to his feet, trying to clear his head. Kitten
lay stunned do the sandy floor. Mal took a step forward but had to halt
when the guard's rifle came up.

Staggering drunkenly, Kingsley stumbled over to the inert body and raised a
heel over her groin. At the same time both long legs locked at different
angles around Kingsley's free leg and pressured. Flailing his arms, he
crashed to the hard floor, landing heavily on his side. He rolled to his
knees, attempting to rise, just in time to meet a flying kick that made
pulp of the left side of his face, the cheekbone giving way completely.

Kitten stood, holding her midsection, which throbbed painfully from the
solid butt it had taken. She'd had her satisfaction. But Kingsley, somehow,
got to his feet. He feigned collapse, then charged furiously?not at her,
but at the guard, trying for the gun.

This guard was one of the Commander's personal attendants. He was neither
lazy, slow, nor overly involved in the proceedings.

Kingsley rested a good two strides from the guard, who hadn't moved. There
were two small black holes in his perfect skull, one in front, a slightly
larger one directly in the back, where the energy bolt had sprayed out.

A strange drumming sound caused Kitten to turn, panting, from the ugly
corpse. Parquit was thumping his. tail on the floor behind him.

"Well executed, female, very well indeed! And with little damage to
yourself. You are formidable, yes, formidable."

"My tummy's killing me, but if you'd like to have a goround yourself,
Excellency...

"I am honored, but I fear my time for personal combat is past its prime.
Nor do I feel the need of putting myself in jeopardy, even from a small
female."

"I offer protest," said Rose. He was watching two attendants remove the
body. "I have few enough friends left on this planet." Actually, he was
more worried about ,word of the circumstances surrounding Kingsley's death
getting back to his father. He had enough who were sworn to kill him.

"Why bother, since you will be leaving so soon?" said Parquit.

"I'm aware you bear no love for me, Commander. Must they be informed of
such things?" He indicated the little group.

"I reiterate, why bother? They are not going to contact anyone anyplace for
some time, if ever. I no longer intend to act in a manner merely pleasing
to you."

"Going to risk an interstellar incident over us?" said Porsupah. "Strange
priorities you have, Commander."

"I hardly think your disappearance would engender more than sincere regret
among your friends and associates, since you are here quite illegally. And
perhaps some mild anger on the part of the being who'll be responsible for
replacing you in the ranks of the Church."

"I seem to have heard something similar somewhere before," Mal whispered to
Kitten.

"Oh, shut up, ox!" She winced. "Nova, that abomination had a hard head!"

Chimes rang somewhere from within the Commander's spacious desk. He pulled
out an earphone?speaker setup, appeared to listen intently for several
minutes.

"I hear. Yes. For how long? Have you transcribed it? Good. I want it on
record. Send it out to the transport as soon as it comes round in orbit
again." He replaced the apparatus in the desk.

"It would seem, beings, that someone else is not concerned about off?planet
ramifications."

"What do you mean?" asked Porsupah.

"There are three vessels of the local constabulary lying close offshore my
harbor. They are very much aware of your presence here and appear quite
insistent about having you back. Their attitude is decidedly unfriendly.
I've never known the Major to act so belligerently. You must mean a lot to
him. Or the information you've obtained."

"What do you propose to do about it?" said Kitten.

"Orvenalix is no fool. He must be conversant with the kind of defensive
popgun I am permitted here. No doubt those ships axe equipped with that in
mind. However, we have a few surprises not included in the agreements. I
should prefer to avoid a running battle where some of the installation may
be damaged and my personnel subjected to an inglorious death ....
Therefore, in the interests of preserving peace and avoiding unnecessary
destruction, I'll offer your would?be saviors a chance to back off and
motor away to wherever they came from."

"Why should they do that?" asked Kitten. Suspicions were congealing in her
mind that were not attractive.

Parquit stared at her shrewdly. "I believe you have some idea. Your
gladiatorial talents, if nothing else, have identified you as what this
disreputable specimen insists you to be. Namely, trained agents in the
service of the Emperor's enemies. I suspect you have some idea of what is
taking place here. You've been here for over a day now, operating
unsuspected. I have great respect for your abilities. I don't know
precisely how much you've learned, because we've no way as yet of
deciphering the vidcast you sent out this morning. That's one thing I hope
to persuade you to reveal, later, at my leisure. I am not confident that it
was damped out sufficiently early. The presence of those three vessels is
partial proof of that."

"I wouldn't attempt to deny that," said Kitten.

"That is a beginning." Parquit showed teeth. "The fact that they were able
to slip inside our defenses without triggering any alarm shows they are
either far better equipped than that type of vessel normally is, or that
our defensive preparations here have been woefully inadequate."

"Probably both," offered Mal. "If you're referring to that animated blob of
caulking putty?yeah, we've seen it" Porsupah tried to restrain Mal but the
captain shook him off. "No, I'm tired of games. It hasn't done me any too
good so far. Let's be direct for a change."

"You two will be the death of me yet!" the Tolian exclaimed.

If Parquit was surprised by Mal's disclosure, he didn't show it.

"it is more likely that I will be. Come with me, then. I had not planned to
attempt this at this time, nor have my technicians. There are last?minute
preparations to supervise. You will be able to observe from the top of the
Harbor Tower. Watch closely and take note of what transpires. Possibly you
may be able to convince your Major that further attempts to save you will
prove unefficacious. A simple demonstration should suffice."

The Commander came around from behind his desk. "You see, we have delved
deeply into the creature, its physiology, its motivations and response. It
has been on an extensive training program for some time now. The results
have been mostly positive. This will hurry but not disrupt things. It is a
dumb animal, true, but it has proven capable of responding to training, to
command."

"We watched some of your 'training,"' said Kitten.

"Really?" This time Parquit showed some surprise. "You will tell me how
that was managed some time." Clearly no one at the base had made a
connection between a sudden epidemic of nye falling asleep on post and the
presence of the three aliens. Which was just as well, even if it didn't
seem useful just now. No point in revealing more than was necessary. And
they might have occasion to use the same stunt again?if they could recover
their pistols.

Of course if someone got the idea of analyzing the contents of the
ammunition ...

"I fail to see," said Kitten, "how coercing the creature from point A to
point B and back again is going to frighten away three armed ships. No
matter how intimidating the thing is masswise."

"Our program has been far more ambitious than that female. Clearly you did
not see very much. As you will soon observe."



They were standing in the Tower. The three subs were barely visible, lying
on the surface offshore. The three mammals had been offered the use of a
mounted magnifier by Parquit, adjustable to human?Tolian eyesight. Tube
launchers were visible on the ships, just above the waterline.

Something in the way of an escape attempt might have been tried, since the
technics in the Tower were all occupied. Only the two guards the Commander
had ordered to watch them every minute prevented it.

Kitten was holding an awkwardly shaped transceiver mike. The Commander's
voice sounded from a speaker set in its handle, as well as from speakers
around the room.

"It is time now, female. You may speak to your `rescuers.' I suggest a
brief warning. Remind that the final decision to engage in hostilities is
theirs. If they still exhibit obstinacy, I will take action. Controller,
open the channel."

The transceiver operator made slight adjustments to two dials, gave Kitten
an unmistakable go?ahead sign .

... supah and Lieutenant Kai?sung. Please acknowledge our ..."

Kitten spoke into the mike. "Listen, whoever you are. This is Lieutenant
Kai?sung."

"Lieutenant? Are you all right?"

"Present company and location excluded, just fine. My companions likewise.
The Rectory received my 'cast?"

"A substantial portion, Lieutenant. Enough? before it was damped out to the
point where amphi couldn't do any good. We got the newsy parts, anyway.
What's all this about some kind of `alien monster'?"

"There is one it is alien, and it most definitely is Monstrous. Your
friendly local snakes have apparently trained it to?well, I'm not sure
what. But the Commander here seems pretty confident about its ability to
handle you."

"We've got energy screens and gelisite torpedoes that'll kill devil?fish on
concussion alone at three?hundred meters, Lieutenant. We intend to have you
out of there."

"Your final wordings, human?" That was Parquit's voice, breaking in.

"An accurate evaluation, snake. Now be so good as to produce the two
Lieutenants and their civilian companion immediately or ..... HOLY.... !"

There was a confused scrabbling sound at the other end of the linkup.

"What's happening around them?" said Mal, eyes glued to the single
magnifier. Porsupah edged him out of the way.

The sea around the three ships seemed to be boiling. A puff of white smoke
issued from one of the subs, followed by similar puffs from the others.
Muffled explosions followed. Water geysered heavenward in several places
close by two of the vessels. The ocean heaved convulsively.

The blue?green water under the ships seemed to turn gray, then black as
ink. Two massive glistening pseudopods, the limbs of some impossible
amorphous sea?deity, rose out of the water on either side of the two,
arching and meeting overhead. Even without the aid of the magnifier, both
Mal and Kitten could see puffs of red?yellow exploding against the horror.
They were carried off by the wind as though they were smoke and not the
places where armor?piercing missiles impinged and shattered. Energy screens
flared and died, coils overloaded. The two pseudopods formed an obscene
cathedral over the crazily rocking ships, hung frozen for an instant.

Then it came down.

The waters swirled, angry and disturbed, above the spot where the two
manned vessels had floated seconds before. The third was already jetting
full throttle for the horizon. "Damn. Damn, damn." Kitten dug her rails
against the unresisting metal of the speaker?mike, scraping the shiny tube.
Porsupah remained ,glued to the magnifier, unable to tear his eyes from the
site of the disaster. Already there was nothing to indicate that an
unimaginable blasphemy had come and gone. The two submersibles did not
reappear.

"Fast." That was the freighter?captain's sole comment. You've seen stranger
things on other planets, more impressive, more awesome. Haven't you,
Captain? Haven't you?

"That was necessary," came Parquit's voice over the speaker.

"I understand," said Kitten, "you son?of?a?bitch! Those men didn't have a
chance. You knew damn well they wouldn't have a chance."

"I did not know for certain. As I said, the procedure was not yet
perfected. The probability, however, was high. Despite the insufficient
number and type of tests we ran. Our expectations were more than
fulfilled."

"Goddamn you slimy, cold?blooded ... !"

"Something's happening." It was Porsupah's voice. He was still staring
through the magnifier. The boiling of the sea had resumed, much closer to
shore. Grinding and creaking sounds suddenly poured through several
speakers. The personnel in the Tower were not reacting as though this were
normal procedure.

"Nova!" breathed Mal tightly, "I think..."

Metal moaned from one speaker, a long, basso aaahhbhh. There was a
tremendous wrenching sound and the building snapped like a viol string.
Except for those techs well seated at their consoles, everyone was thrown
heavily to the floor. Several respectable explosions followed, shaking the
structure violently.

Hammurabi had regained his feet first and was already wrestling with one of
the guards. The other one, still stunned from the fall, was groggily trying
to aim his rifle so as not to hit his partner. Porsupah laid him out with a
fast round kick behind the left aural opening.

None of the technics or operators seemed inclined to dispute the humans'
ownership of the two energy rifles. Instead, they worked frenziedly at
controls and switches. Completely ignoring the threatening aliens in their
midst, they argued among themselves and with the equally frantic voices
which babbled from numerous speaker grills.

"I can't follow all this," said Kitten as they backed towards the portal.

"Something's scared them," whispered Mal. "Badly. Something's running awry
and they're scared. For a change, I concur with an AAnn situation
evaluation. I'm scared too."

Another explosion shook the building. It was weaker and they kept their
feet this time, slowly backing towards the doorway.

"Awry seems kind of a homogenized word for it," said Kitten, pouting.

Down on the beach still visible through the transparent walls, a mass the
color of space rose fifty meters into the china?blue sky. It towered above
the control center and the tallest trees. The sun flashed silver on the
malevolent bulk for the first time, as though strands of some bright metal
ran in streaks just under the outer skin. Pieces of masonry and duralloy
beaming, twisted and dangling like string, fell from the smooth sides. The
thing moved purposefully from side to side, swaying slightly.

Most of it was hidden from view.

Its intelligence was no longer a matter for discussion.

Mal and Kitten carried the energy rifles. Being AAnn size, they bulked a
bit too large for Porsupah to handle comfortably. The Telian did borrow a
dart pistol from one of the guards. He led them down the stairs, again
shunning the elevator, his hypersensitive hearing and sense of smell a
better detection package than any artificial sensors.

Tortured screams from stone and metal followed them as they raced through
turns and down corridors. The occasional AAnn they encountered was too
stunned to contest their free passage and too scared to do anything about
it anyway.

Still, now and then an armed guard or tech would realize they weren't where
they ought to be and try to do something about it. The result was a series
of brief running battles through the maze of structures. The first time
she'd fired the unfamiliar weapon, Kitten had taken a bolt close enough to
singe her left side painfully. Mal limped slightly on his right leg, where
a shard from an explosive shell had penetrated. It was slight, but because
he couldn't pause, the tiny trickle of blood from beneath the rough
bandaging was continuous.

The monster was tearing the island down around their ears, and
incongruously enough all Mal could think about for several minutes was that
his companion was really splendidly constructed. Not merely athletic, but
damned attractive. A burst of heat warmed his face. There was a short
scream from a far corner where a guard had dropped. Kitten turned to look
over her shoulder.

"Well done, anthropoid! You almost caught that one. I'm getting tired of
nursemaiding you."

Well, at least it put his mind back on business.

"Any idea of how far we are from the harbor?" Mal yelled to Porsupah.

"Not yet. The thing seems to have moved inland with ease. So it's not
restricted to the aquasphere. For all we know, it may be flexible enough to
surround the entire island." The Tolian jumped over an AAnn in scientist's
smock. The reptile's head had been split by a collapsed lighting fixture.
Another crash sounded from behind them and a shudder ran down the hallway
they were running along.

"That could have been the Tower going over," shouted Mal. "The thing's
systematic enough to do that."

"Peot was right after all," said Kitten. "This thing's as nasty as he
described it. Wonder how the good Commander is making out?"

"Let's wonder about it over brandy and pastry ... and an honest?to?gee
steak ... at your Rectory," said Mal. "And concentrate on practicalities
now." He slowed up.

There was a double door at the end of the corridor. Damp gray sky and green
ocean were visible through the glassite material. Porsupah ran up to it,
stopped, and hurried back. His comment was perfunctory.

"Automatics are out. It's shut tight."

"Emergency circuits closed," added Mal. He raised the energy rifle. Four
blasts knocked the right side of the armored doorway sufficiently askew for
them to slip through. They went fast and gingerly, avoiding the hot edges.

The tiny harbor lay just ahead, down a slight slope. It was drizzling
slightly, large warm drops. Visibility of the cove was poor, but
sufficient.

It was a mess.

"Systematic's the word," murmured Mal. "It cut off all retreat first
thing."

Docks and piers had been smashed straight down into the sand and water.
Metal pilings and groinings were twisted like wise. Scraps of hoverafts and
regular ships, as well as two or three hydrofoils and at least one
helicoptertype were visible?including the pulverized remains of their own.
The least damaged of the assorted vessels was one that had been torn neatly
in half, like a piece of foil.

Dull explosions continued to sound behind them, spiced with an occasional
faint reptilian scream. The slight slope and high trees prevented visual
observation, a state of affairs none in the small group had any desire to
rectify.

The humid mist was settling fast, but several islands were still visible.
Except for the relatively empty equatorial seas, one was rarely out of
sight of land on Repler.

They ran rapidly the rest of the way to the beach. Not so much to reach it
as to get as far as possible from the thing behind them. On close
inspection the wreckage was even less encouraging. The destruction had been
careful and thorough. Nothing was left that could float anything larger
than half a man.

Even to a group as hardened as the two officers and Hammurabi, the
carelessly dismembered bodies of the few AAnn soldiers and harbor personnel
were unnerving. There wasn't an intact corpse visible. Here and there one,
could discern an arm, part of a torso, a leathertine boot with the leg
still in it.

Some of the grisly debris had clearly been torn, while other pieces were
sheared off as neatly as with a surgical laser.

Kitten looked back over her shoulder.

"I think I'll take my chances with the devil?fish. Maybe we can make it to
that nearer island."

Porsupah was peering hard into the wet mist. "That may not be necessary.
There is what appears to be a still intact craft of some sort floating free
out there. It must have broken loose when the monster first attacked and
drifted away unnoticed."

"So long as it floats," said Mal, stepping into the gentle surf.

"Don't be absurd," chided Porsupah. "Excuse me." The diminutive officer
dove into the water and shot past Mal like a furred torpedo, his webbed
feet frothing the sea behind him.

"Waiting makes me nervous, that's all," said Mal.

"Yes," Kitten muttered, staring back at the trees. At any moment she
expected to see black hell pouring towards them over the palms. "We've got
to get away to alert the Rectory, not to mention GalCenter on Terra and
Hivehom. This is rather more than a local problem." She paused. "I wonder
how Peet is coming with his electronic jigsaw?"

"I don't care about the Rectory, I don't particularly care about the
pen?pushers at GalCenter, and I especially don't care about what that
revived mummy expects to do about this thing. I expect he's outclassed.
What I do care about is that for the first time in ten years I've got a
bank account that's more than just healthy, and by hell and damn, I've
every intention of sticking around to spend it!"

"Your mind is rotten with credit pollution!" she sneered in disgust.

"You question my motives without knowing a damn thing, and-

A cough and rumble turned ?their attention to the choppy water. The sound
settled into a steady, low grumble. A moment later a boat appeared out of
the mist, Porsupah at the left side of the peculiar double helm. It was
only a small open powerboat, but it looked able to hold them all
comfortably.

"Sorry it's not a raft," said Pots, "but it appears to be near full
fuel?wise and not terribly difficult to operate. It ?should suffice to get
us elsewhere? our primary concern at the moment, I suspect."

"There might be an automated way?station nearby," suggested Kitten, "where
we can either pick up something a little faster or else transmit cityside."

"Our scaly friends might pick up a distress signal this close by," said Mal
thoughtfully.

"If there are any left. Please, let's argue about it elsewhere and
elsewhen, hmmm?"

They boarded the tiny craft. At a respectable speed only a million
kilometers or so too slow, they headed out of the cove. Only fog swallowed
them up.

The Vom paused in its work and considered the destruction it had wrought.
It was full?fleshed, unhungry, sated on life?force, for the first time in
memory. It could detect a last pocket of high?quality force on the island.
It was buried in a strong chamber deep within the island itself. Content as
it was; the Vom decided, after some thought, not to trouble this last group
just now.

It relaxed, flowed out to a comfortable configuration, and listened. The
Guardian still retained its ancient ability to blur its whereabouts. Strain
as it might, the Vom had  not yet rebuilt to the point where it could
penetrate that mindweb. Leaving the search for the Enemy, it let its
perception roam, out, free, open, for the first time since awakening,
testing its revitalized neural complex.

Tiny bits of life?force impinged here, there, on its fluid consciousness.
Were recorded and stored for future sorting and analysis. Great clusters of
lesser intelligences flowed in the seas about the island. Not as exciting,
but still suitable for assimilation and fueling.

To the north, however, there was a really respectable body of strong
life?force, by far the greatest within the Vom's range of detection. It
would be enough to stimulate the Vom to full, pulsating awareness. To a
state of elemental power. Perhaps the Guardian would also ,realize this,
and go there to defend. Perhaps it would not, electing to put off a
confrontation still longer. Either way, it was a destination, a reason for
moving. The Vom considered. It decided.

It went.



Philip was at the landing to greet them as they pulled into Wetplace. He
was fairly dancing with impatience and concern as they went through the
brief but necessary tying?down procedure. They'd borrowed an emergency raft
from the sailor's station they'd found. Humid fog was as thick here as it
had been on the open sea. Limpid drops rolled sinuously around Kitten's
thighs as she stepped out of the raft. The black tower loomed indistinctly
in the feather?soft drizzle.

"Kitten, Captain Hammurabi! How pleasurable to see you again! I was
worried. And I have such things to tell you."

"And I have a story or two for you, lad!" said Mal. Together they headed
for the tower.

As they entered the now?familiar elevator, Mal recounted quickly most of
what had occurred since their departing. The young engineer was quiet
throughout, listening attentively. In fact, by the time Mal finished the
youngster seemed downright grim.

"It all fits," he said.

"Glad to hear it," Mal replied. "What fits?"

"With what Peot said."

"And what has he said?" asked Kitten.

"That the creature's power and strength grows in minutes arid hours, not
days. That it soon may be strong enough to resist anything Pent and the
Machine can throw at it. In which case the only alternative to catastrophe
on a galaxy?wide scale will be planetary sterilization."

"Whew! You said that calmly enough. Does he realize how much chance we'd
have of getting Council?Chancellor approval for that?" Kitten said.

"He'd be included under such a program too, of course," Mal added.

"The concept of death in all its manifestations and aspects is one he's
more than familiar with. He doubts the actuality would be more than merely
anticlimactic. The possibility does not concern him. As for the other, he
has some inkling of how slowly even the best non?totalitarian bureaucracy
moves. He only suggests what he believes may work."

"Cheery prognosis from a potential savior," Kitten murmured.

"Still, everything is future tense.' Where's your friend?"

"Pors? He's taken another ship and gone into the city to help the Major
organize things at the Rectory. And to give a first?hand report. Does Peot
think the monster will continue the kind of destruction we observed at the
Enclave?"

"Not for a while, it seems

"Haw!" Mal snorted.

"... at least until it has located and reckoned with Peat himself. It knows
of the Tar?Aiym's presence on Repler, and

"Tar?Aiym?" interrupted Kitten. "I know that word. Pent claims to be a
Tar?Aiym?" But Philip ignored her.

"... until the Guardian is destroyed, the Vom knows it will always be in
danger. It is a highly logical organism and will always bow to priorities.
Finding and eliminating Peot is first. Destruction of puny humanx
resistance falls considerably lower on the fist."

"And if it locates our resurrected madman, naturally it will come directly
here."

"I should suppose so."?

"Naturally Chatham has not been told of this."

"Naturally not."

Kitten sighed. "Well, I hope it takes its time. I'm not sure I could take
another sight of that thing without a few days to blot it out of my mind."



Governor Washburn was very upset. He'd been forced out of his beloved daily
schedule. The Governor was a most punctual person. This awkward diversion
had already forced him to miss at least one address to a local assemblage
of parents of school?age children?voters all. Not to mention the unveiling
of the new seafood processing plant on Isle de Rais.

He'd accepted the chair offered by Orvenalix only to hop out of it almost
immediately and commence pacing in the small office like a target in a
shooting gallery. Porsupah was an interested spectator.

"The thing is bloody preposterous! Alien monsters indeed! That's work for
infantile minds. And for that you draw me from my official duties! For?"

"I've seen the thing, Governor," said Porsupah quietly. "It is far from
insubstantial."

"So I've been told." Washburn waved a hand diffidently. "Understand me,
Lieutenant. It's not your powers of observation I question. Merely the
preciseness of your description. An understandable penchant for
exaggeration induced by excitable circumstances . . ."

"It is not impossible that certain details have been slightly exaggerated.
The creature may have left a survivor or two."

"Surely now, the weaponry we stock, even though designed for dealing with
devil?fish and subsand crawlers and the like, is sufficient to handle your
`monster."'

"A point by way of information, your Governorship," countered Porsupah.
"Two well?equipped submersibles from this city, fitted out with precisely
that sort of equipment and manned by able men thoroughly familiar with it,
were destroyed by this creature as though they were no more than
dreamsmoke. I saw it. I observed gelite torpedoes and armor?piercing
projectiles utilized against it. They might as well have tried to
annihilate it with feathers. And the crew of the submersible that escaped
does not desire a second encounter."

The Governor had another ready reply, but this time Orvenalix broke in. He
waved a sheaf of faxed reports at the fuming executive.

"Perchance, has the Governor found the time to scan any of these
reportings. Which have been flowing in with distressing frequency for the
past two days now?"

Washburn cocked an eye at the sheets.

"I receive innumerable reports daily. Which are these?"

Orvenalix thumbed through the sheets, his pincers moving easily from one to
the next.

"A minor consortium of four fishing vessels returned to the same place
where per deuce?week, for the past year and a half, they have caught
between four and five thousand kilos of edible seafood. Their take this
last time barely was worth weighing in ... The jet skiff Lady Laughing with
a family of four on board outbound from Repler Harbor disappeared while
headed south?southeast at latitu .... well, that doesn't matter. They've
not been sighted or heard from since ... Two trawling submersibles
disappear in a fog off Isle Ellison ... undersea garden of Hon. Yaphet
McKnight Luttu, retired, is devastated in a single night ... shoal of
migrating stoneskippers hurl themselves ashore at Isle Royal and suffocate
... dozens of similar sightings, reports, remarks from reliable, frightened
sources, Governor. At first the tone was one of curiosity. Not now. Word
gets around. Fear shows."

"On a planet as recently settled and relatively unexplored as Repler,
disasters and strange occurrences take place daily, by the bushelful," the
Governor replied.

"Mind, I'm not saying that your monster might not be responsible for one or
two ..."

Thranx numbered among their virtues phenomenal patience. Under exceptional,
rare circumstances, it could be lost.

"Governor, semantic evasion of a problem will never eliminate it! In fact,
if I may delicately point out, if you do not squarely confront this
situation, it will confront you!"

"I do not understand, Major."

"I'll try and make it as simple as possible, your Governorship," Orvenalix
pushed a laminated sheet of irradiated plastic across the desk. Tiny yellow
dots glowed within the three?dimensional map.

"All disaster reports and sightings have been plotted on this chart. Both
confirmed and suspected. Excluding those obviously the product of hysteria,
they form a rough, zig?zagging path from the AAnn Concession towards Repler
City. Since our agents escaped from there, by the way, we haven't been able
to raise a signal from it, vidcast, radio?nothing. Should the line continue
at its current pace, Governor, whatever is at this end of it will be here
in three days. At which point you will have the opportunity to debate a
question that has become purely academic!"

Washburn considered the map, considered the stocky insect across from him,
considered the befurred officer sitting placidly in a corner. He slumped
slightly. A good deal of hot air disappeared along with the bravado.

"I see. Yes, well, you do make some strong points, Major. Strong. Perhaps
... perhaps some few precautionary measures?nothing extreme or alarming to
the populace, you understand?ought to be carried out?" He looked hopeful.

Orvenaiix sighed.

"Yes Governor. With your permission I believe I can?

"Yes, yes, Major! Very good, excellent! I can leave the matter in your
hands, then?"

"Yes sir." Orvenalix made a point of glancing at his desk chronometer. "In
fact, sir, if you hurry, I think you can still make the unveiling of that
new processing plant. I've taken the liberty of having a skopter made ready
for you. Second deck?level. The pilot is already warmed up. If you hurry,
you should make it with minutes to polish your speech."

"Why that's very thoughtful of you, Major!" Washburn relaxed, beamed. "I'll
remember it, you can be sure. And now, gentlebeings..."

Orvenalix and Porsupah stood as the Governor left the room. When the door
had snapped shut behind the planet's chief executive, both eased back into
their seats.

"It is not in my crop to be angry at the man. He is one of those who refuse
to recognize the possibility of their own impotence."

Porsupah looked at his superior curiously. "Do you think you can do
anything, Major?"

Orvenalix swiveled and depressed several studs on a panel set flush into
the desk. The triangular head turned slightly, compound eyes faceting the
light.

"No more than I think our good Governor will make his unveiling. That
chronometer is set forty minutes slow. Two things, Lieutenant. Firstly,
while I believed your report, I confess to having some hesitation ..."

"But sir, we ...!"

"Relax, Lieutenant, relax. Understand my position. Visitations by alien
monstrosities are not common in our well?organized universe. But then I
received these . . .

He pushed a sheaf of reports across the table, over the map. "Following all
those disaster claims, I decided to try and obtain visual corroboration. I
ordered a pair of aircraft to imago the AAnn station, agreement or not.
Such proof would also provide backing for any action I felt required to
take?with or without his Governorship's permission. But it's better this
way ... Apparently some of the automatic weapons there are still in
operation, because the two planes were fired upon. However, imagos and
frozepix of the island were obtained. The devastation is incredible. Not a
structure left standing, half the vegetation flattened, great gaping holes
in the ground- utter chaos ...

The second thing is this. On returning, the two pilots were ordered to
crisscross the undersea route the creature is believed to be taking. Even
if the thing stuck to deep water, it was hoped they might get a glimpse of
it ... Only one plane returned. The pilot was completely catatonic. When he
didn't respond, the controllers took over and landed the plane on
automatics. The healer's can't do a thing for him. That's where he is now,
in the Rectory hospital. I'm told he may never recover .

Something burned out his brain, Lieutenant. Too much input. Cerebral
overload."

The speaker set into the desk at the Major's right crackled, formed words.

"Your straight?line call is now being put through, sir. Channels have been
cleared. There will be a normal delay." Something beeped and the voice went
away.

"Priority call?" queried Porsupah, interested.

"The nearest task force of respectable size, Lieutenant, is based on Tundra
V. Further off than I'd like, but there's no reason for anything closer.
And I'm not going to fool around asking for a cruiser from here, a korvette
there. This requires action at the fleet level, and I intend that we shall
have it!"

"A task force? But our resurrected advisor claims that any physical attack
on our part will only provoke the monster to action."

"I've heard of this other. Be that as it may," said Orvenalix softly, "what
else am I to do? Should I fail to defend my nest post I would be forever
barred from it. I am nest?mother here by proxy. I will not sit idly by
while this thing approaches and not prepare to meet it. Warning or not."
There was a second beep, highpitched, from the speaker.

Speaker and vidscreen cleared together. An elderly thranx, with curved?in
antennae and chiton aged a tyrolean purple, gazed out at them. There was no
hint of age in his voice, though. Although it was hazy from being bounced
through at least a dozen relay stations.

"Ashvenarya here."

"Orvenalix, Major, commanding Rectory, Repler III.

How are you, Admiral?"

"Let you know after you explain this nonsense about a class one emergency
in your spatial vicinity requiring task?force response."

"I doubt if you'd believe it if you saw it, Admiral. Though I haven't and I
do."

"So far you haven't convinced me of much, Major."

"Class one requires no explanation, sir. Even priority transfer can leak."

There was a brief pause at the other end.

"All right, Major. You're proper and correct. Ill have a cruiser and a
squadron of stingships dispatched ..."

"Negative, Admiral. Full task force, with every battlewagon you can muster.
I said class one, I mean class one. Full task force, or it might as well be
a complimentary card expressing best wishes for my health. Stingships
haven't the firepower."

"That's the first time I've ever heard anyone argue with stingships
firepower. That I can use as justification. I hope you're not just knotting
your antennae, Major."

"I'm perfectly sane."

"Yes. Well, the ships will be on their way to you in one hour, HH standard.
And I also hope, Major, that you can back up this request to the task?force
commander, or you'll be back at central student HQ doing logic
terminations."

"I think I can do that, sir."

"I hope so, because I'll be commanding it." The connection snapped off.

"Sir," came another voice from the speaker, "Tundra V has broken
communication. Shall I attempt to restore ...?"

"Thank you operator, no. Communication ended." He turned to face Porsupah.
"Do you pray, Tolian?"

"Occasional meditation. I haven't the inclination for prayer."

"Then it might be an idea to find someone who does, because I cant suspend
belief long enough to, either. And I like to be covered all ways."

"I've never heard a class one call before, sir." In spite of himself,
Porsupah was a little awed.

"Class three's a threat to the Commonwealth. Class two a threat to the
Church. Class one is a threat to the race."

"Any particular race?"

"Ought to read the Book, Lieutenant. The race of reason, of course."



The AAnn did not sweat, so the engineer's exhaustion was not particularly
visible, except to another AAnn. "The transmitters still work, Excellence,
Oasis knows how. And we have some emergency power."

"Thank you Engineer First." The Commander limped slightly. His left leg had
been badly bruised by a falling beam as he and the others had scrambled for
the safety of the maximum security shelter buried in the center of the
island.

The shelter had been built to take thermonuclear attack and anything else
short of direct hit by a SCCAM shell. It had?apparently?protected them from
the overwhelming fury of the monster. Perhaps thirty had survived. Thirty,
out of the complex's entire complement. Thirty, plus one.

"You sure did have something you wanted kept secret, didn't you?" said
Dominic Rose. The old man's talent for surviving had preserved him once
more. When the destruction began, he'd stuck close to the Commander,
reasoning correctly that the most important being on the island would head
straight for the safest place. In a fair fight he'd have done just the
opposite, knowing the AAnn. Parquit noticed he still held the slim, deadly
metal case in one hand.

"'Pears your brain?boys didn't calculate too well."

At another moment, drug or not, Parquit might have turned and with great
pleasure ripped the human from throat to groin. As it was, he had neither
the mood nor the inclination.

"To say we have underestimated the' creature and its abilities would be an
understatement of sufficient magnitude to make the Lord of all Nests
shudder in his cave. We knew some of the thing's talents, yes, but little
of its potential. And we believed its intelligence that of a high order
domesticated animal. We were wrong. Wrong everywhere. I confess to
puzzlement as to why it does not continue on and destroy us as well. I have
not the faith in that shelter some did."

"Seemed like a pretty secure sheltering to me," Rose said.

Parquit spared him a contemptuous glance, waved at the destruction all
around. "For a manifestation of the normal universe, yes. Do you really
believe mere metal and alloy saved your miserable life? I think it not. The
monster left for reasons of its own. For which I am grateful. It gives us a
chance."

He stepped gingerly over a flat length of metal that had been one of the
foundation beams supporting a transparent roof. It was flattened like
straw.

Parquit reached the remains of control. The Tower was completely gore, but
some of the equipment in the lower portions had survived. He leaned over
the engineer fourth working there. "Well, manipulator, what say you to a
link?up?"

"If our orbiting station can handle the first connection and boost what's
left of our signal sufficiently, I say yes, Excellence."

"And what does the orbiter say?"

"He says maybe."

"Do this thing, and I will lay first sand in your lodge with my own hands.
And feed your first?bona from the Emperor's preserves."

` It will be done, Excellence!"

The entity Parquit was so anxious to talk to, with the ruins of his command
still smoking about him, was named Douwrass N, Prince?of?the?Circle, the
Emperor's Long Fang for the fourteenth quadrant of the Empire.

The request he made had fewer light?years to travel than that of a certain
officer of the Church, but was essentially the same. For example,
preservation took precedence over protection.

Prince?of?the?Circle agreed. He also questioned, for he had stronger reason
than Ashvenarya.

"Your life is balanced in this, Parquit RAM. Not that that is of
consequence."

"Naturally, Highness," said Parquit.

"But mine also will go under the Emperor's paw for consideration. That is
of consequence. Yet I cannot argue with your need. I have access to the
original reports of discovery of the creature and have been following your
special project with some little interest. I regret its demise and that
there are none responsible left to chastise properly among the so?called
scientists."

"Do not blame the Passed, Highness. They were outclassed. We all were."

"Perhaps. One thing worries me, though, Commander. It is not to be
anticipated that the humanx will react with welcomes and hosannas to the
appearance of an AAnn battle fleet in one of their frontier systems. Not to
mention a subsequent request for said fleet to use nuclear engines on the
territory."

"Logical," Parquit replied. He winced. The pain in his left leg was worse.
"Yet I believe they'd eventually be thankful. Not that we can expect a
lower species to act in a civilized fashion. That is not the important
thing. What I must impress upon you, Highness, is that the destruction of
this creature supercedes everything else. There is a belief that it is
somehow capable of traversing interstellar and possibly even intergalactic
space. It grows daily in power. It must be destroyed now, here, before it
can manifest abilities we cannot begin to comprehend

You may have noticed in the reports how it ignores the fury of a full laser
with seemingly no ill effects. It is apparently also immune now to enormous
electrical impulses and various other destructive energies."

"It was right that you contacted me," said the Prince. "Instructions will
be relayed to the Eighth battle fleet to proceed at maximum displacement to
Repler. I place my good hand, the Baron Riidi WW, in command. An attempt
will be made by shuttle to remove you and the other survivors from the
station."

"We are grateful, Highness."

"It is not a matter of gratefulness," the Prince replied sternly. "You and
the others are all who remain who have observed the creature first hand. I
expect it to be destroyed on the planet. Yet I must consider all
possibilities, including the impossible. If feasible, your knowledge should
be saved."

"It is so recognized, Highness. It is not to be inferred that I slavishly
offer thanks. I shall be grateful because I should be most amused to hear
the humanx not only agree to, but request, bombardment by ships of the
Emperor of one of their own planets."

"I had not considered so," said the Prince. "The Axis of the Universe is
Irony. Clean killing, Commander."

"Clean killing, Highness."



The Vom had arrived in the waters outside Repler City. It floated near the
surface like a thick oil slick, roiling, folding in and out upon itself,
feeding on the small lives of the bottom and the larger silver swimmers. In
the several hours since it had made a cursory inspection of the
water?front, more out of curiosity than purpose, it had been fired on by a
multitude of exotic weaponry of different types and theoretically murderous
capabilities. Peot's fears had not been realized, and in some ways it was
worse because of that. The monster had ignored the efforts of the humanx
defenders. it could take them when it wished and made the fact obvious. It
was depressing.

The harborfront had been sealed off by police when the creature had
appeared. The majority of the citizenry was aware only that something
unusual was taking place at the harbor. A minor disturbance, perhaps a
devil?fish attack. Nothing to get excited about. Go about your business,
citizens.

It could not be concealed for long, however, that there was no devil?fish
smashing insanely into boats and rafts and that the nuisance was in fact
anything but minor. At that point Orvenalix, peaceforcer Mailloux, and the
Governor would have the additional burden of a general panic on their
hands.

Although it was a frightening thing to observe the monster's complete
indifference to repeated assault, Orvenalix was prepared for it. Porsupah
told him such would likely be the result.

What did disturb him was a related incident with more sinister
implications.

While the creature was prowling half?submerged about the docks, a single
shuttle was launched on its way skyward. The craft had managed to gain only
a few hundred meters when it had abruptly wavered, veered crazily, and
crashed into the shallow water north of the shuttleport. All inquiries from
the port controller had been greeted with deathly silence.

When the full report was presented, Orvenalix ordered all shuttles grounded
and those in orbit to remain there. This despite the howls and threats of
merchants and citizens alike. Sure, a crash was unusual, but hardly unique.
But if he'd merely lost control of his ship, the shuttle pilot should have
been shouting non?stop for aid, instructions and suggestions. Or at least
cursing respectably. There'd been not a squeak. The implication was
obvious.

The Vom's second attempt at mental control after eons had proven as
exhilarating as the first. Some slight hesitation in special cells, some
difficulty in these first attempts would have been excusable. There had
been none. The Vom was confident now. With a little more strength, it felt
capable of assuming control of every intelligent mind on the planet.

But that would be unwise. No point unless?no, until it conquered a single
other mind. One not of this planet. It was a reckoning long overdue,
although the Vom would never interpret it in such terms.

Nor were its thoughts operating on a simplistic level anymore. Soon it
would reach the point where it would not have to worry about anything at
all.

But for now it could not pierce the Guardian's veil.

Something different should be tried. Possibly piecemeal destruction of this
population center, while wasteful, could provoke the Guardian to some
response. The Vom began to consider how it might go about destroying the
city.



"Everything that can be done has been done," said Peot, staring at his
ancient resting place. Mal, Kitten, and Philip stood around the towering
alien.

"The Vom is now contemplating the reduction of selected portions of your
central metropolitan center. This will be done in hope of forcing me to
respond. It will not take place, as I plan to reveal myself to it
momentarily. I regret that I have no way of predicting the eventual
outcome, nor even the length of the conflict. The Machine assays anywhere
from 60 to 40% chance of success. Every minute, the odds increase in the
monster's favor." The alien shrugged in very human?like fashion, although
it may have meant something else entirely. Or perhaps nothing at all.

"To those of your kind who still place hope in the imagined power of your
tiny ships ..." Mal jerked as he realized that the alien had been reading
his thoughts again, " ... I can only hope they are prepared to implement my
final suggestion, should my own attempts end in failure. The Vom has
already matured to the point where most energies are no longer a threat to
it. Only by striking directly at its mind is there a chance. All, of
course, is conjecture. Things may have changed. Yes, things may have
changed ... After all, the Vom itself is an indication of that."

"That's the first time I've heard you display anything remotely like
sarcasm," said Kitten.

"You may be right. Final?sealing on my capsule must be concluded from
outside. Young Philip has the instructions and knows what last needs be
done. He has been invaluable."

"I've been called lots of things, but never that," grinned the youngster.

Peot entered the capsule, turning in the single couchlike affair to face
outwards. The same straps and tubing and holds they had seen on his body
when the container first opened were reattached. A few shining new devices
and link?ups of familiar materials and unfamiliar construct had been added.

With Philip's help the alien began reemplanting tubes and lines into its
own body. Finished, the youth stepped back. The massive door began to swing
slowly, ponderously shut. There was no click or snap. At that point Philip
moved about the scaffolding which clung web?like to the capsule. He did
things to hidden switches and controls, each recessed into its own
concealing panel.

He climbed down from the spidery framework.

"Is that all?" asked Kitten.

The young engineer nodded. "A small light has been installed?up there." He
pointed to the top of the capsule. A tiny, clear glow shone brightly, sharp
against the dark metal.

"It's white now. When he makes contact with the Vom ?joins battle, if you
will?the light should go to yellow. If he wins it will begin to flash red."

"And if he loses?" asked Mal.

"Then the light will go out."

"I hope it's fast," the ship?captain grunted. "Being tied down like this is
costing me a small fortune commissionwise. And I can't leave because that
crazy over?bug has grounded all shuttles until this idiocy is resolved."

"If friend Pent doesn't win," Kitten shot back, "you'll lose a damn sight
more than commissions!"

"I just don't like sitting." The massive hands clasped, unclasped. Knuckles
popped like wood.

"Swell. I've got as idea. It might help."

"Anything that'll speed this up one way or another, I'm game."

"Ha! I'll hold you to that! First thing, we've got to find a decent ship.
I'm sure Kingsley's got something better tied up than that toy we drifted
in on. Then we go back to the reptiles' enclave."

"What the hell do you want to go back there for?"

"I've fond memories of the place

"Bulls..."

" ... and I want to look for something. Backing out?"

"Oh Deity!" The captain turned away.

"Philip? You're more than welcome."

"No thanks." He was staring at the silent capsule. "If you can do without
me I think I'd best stay around here. In case he needs me."

"Alright awready. Do we talk or go?" Mal asked irritably.

"Keep your plane oriented. We go."

"Would it be too much to ask what we're going for?"

"Tell you when we get there."

"In that case, I propose a temporary delay."

"For?"

"Dinner for two."

"Why Captain! How startlingly romantic of you! I thought you swore true to
your cardmeter."

"Romantic, hell. My lower abdomen confesses to feeling decidedly cavernous.
The offer to share was meant as a courtesy. No affection implied."

"Charmingly put. Always face Armageddon on a full stomach. Okay, let's
eat."



Sealed once more within the capsule which was as familiar to him as his own
body, Peot cautiously opened channels to the Machine, kilometers overhead.
The computer responded to the linkup with satisfaction. It bad not felt
comfortable with the Guardian out of phase, although it had bowed to the
necessity.

Arranging functions to comply with the reintegrated Guardian, it prepared
channels, girded circuits, primed connections. Circuits in the Machine were
ultimately compact. Information passed and changes were made by changes in
the number of electrons in the shells of certain atoms. An unimaginable
amount of highly concentrated energy, generated by a method as yet glimpsed
only in theory by mathematicians of a few existing races, was placed at
standby.

Borders defining organic from inorganic levels collapsed, blended, became
hypothetical. Only the Guardian Machine remained. A decision, so: The haze
surrounding Pout's consciousness, concealing, protecting him, vanished The
universe jumped into focus: fine?grained, high?resolution focus. The
Guardian reached out. No longer would a policy of concealment serve. The
thing must be done: now.

The Guardian impinged lightning?like on an ocean of alien thought,
instantly charting mounts and abysses, analyzed.

Sized up.

Leaving a reserve and a small portion of its consciousness to protect its
physical self, the Vern. reacted a microsecond later. It was not properly
positioned for maximum response. It was, however, no longer a time for
probes and feints.

A sledge?hammer force struck the Vom, smashing cells, burning out channels,
screaming along? unprepared neural highways like sunfire. The vast
heaviness recoiled, shook, recovered.

Struck back.

Within the Guardian Machine a few linkages were shut down, organic or
inorganic. A few circuits burnt out, organic or inorganic. Overload. Repair
procedures took over.

There was no time for subtlety.

Two pebbles on a shore contested for the same resting place in the sand.
One thunderhead sought sky?domination over another. Now somewhere one saint
ascended, only to be dragged back to earth; now the other. There was to be
no instant resolution to the Old Contest. Both sides knew it, neither
argued it.

There were?side effects. Energy was expended and brushed aside. It had to
go somewhere. It did. Things happened.

The smaller of Repler's two moons slowed, stopped, began to rotate
counter?clockwise.

On Parkman's Peninsula there was a great field of Dowar flowers. In the
space of a heartbeat, they turned brown and died.

In the small village of Goodnight a tiny herd refused to give milk. Seconds
later a shoal of silvery thrad beached themselves in a frenzied rush from
the sea.

In Formantown, three things dissolved: half a pier, two crystal altarpieces
and four marriages.

On the other side of the planet in the city of Gallagher, hundreds of cats
broke into the peaceforcer station and killed a third of the local force
before the alarmed cityfolk, the other peaceforcers, and the local
veterinarians (there were three) could drive them out.

In Repler City, every inhabitant, from Orvenalix to the Governor to
Porsupah, experienced several seconds of vertigo. This continued at
irregular intervals. It had a disconcerting effect on the population.

In Haven, all fell into a deep sleep. All except a small monkey?like
primate from Carson's World, name of Ev Taars. A mechanic, Taars continued
to work for several minutes, unaware that his six?toed feet floated four
millimeters off the ground.

On the other side of the universe, a tiny intelligence suddenly expired
violently, screaming. Its companion observed and commenced thoughts that
would change the destiny of a hundred worlds. The operator of the single
interspace weapon on board the customs' korvette panicked and would have
started shooting. Fortunately, the tracker had enough presence of mind to
cut power to the lethal laser. When the gunner saw what was following
behind the ship he'd nearly taken a shot at, he fainted.

The AAnn battle fleet, sixty ships strong, moved with precision into
synchronous orbit about Repler. There were few commercial vessels floating
in the section of space Baron Riidi WW selected. Those that were there
elected to move rapidly elsewhere. The intruders made no hostile gestures.
Yet it was apparent to experienced merchantmen that the AAnn warships were
not there for pleasure. Formation told them that, formation and the fact
that this many AAnn vessels had not been seen' together since the last
humanx? AAnn conflict.

The special shuttle bearing the Baron and a select company of scientists
and commandos entered atmosphere, dropping slowly towards the planet
circling below. The inhospitableness of the globe was clearly illustrated
by incredible bodies of water, thick masses of moist air; and tropical
vegetation. The Baron felt unusual sympathy for the local commander. Under
the best of circumstances this would not be a pleasant place to be
stationed. Put conservatively, it was a hell?hole.

Yes, any questions of failure or incompetence here would have to take into
account the horrible climatic conditions.

A Communicator Second entered the luxurious main cabin, saluted.

"Sir, the flagship gives word that the Governor of the humanx colony has
attempted another communication."

"I believe I instructed Captain Elbraack to relay the standard message
about indisposition of forces, technical difficulties, and the like."

"Your pardon, sir, but Captain Elbraack advises that he has been doing
precisely that. He informs that the Governor declines to acknowledge all
such attempts."

"Then what is he complaining about? We have a standoff. I told the Captain
that I do not wish to be bothered until I have had time to evaluate the
situation on .the ground. I suggested one method of doing this. Inform the
Captain that if he feels he is incapable of handling the situation without
running to the communicator like a newborn hatchling at every small
difficulty, I will be happy to replace him with someone who feels
otherwise."

"Yes, Baron." The communicator hastily backed out of the room, forgetting
to salute.

Riidi did not call the nye back. On some ships in the Imperial Navy,
forgetting to do proper obeisance to a personage of Baronial rank would
result in a short session at the hands of the paingivers, or reduction in
class. The Baron was notorious among his equals for disciplinary laxity.
This and other idiosyncrasies should have seen him ridden out of the Navy
long ago. There were, however, a number of ameliorating factors, not the
least of which was the fact that the Baron was brilliant

Not particularly genius?brilliant, but natural?smart brilliant. He had the
ability to absorb a great deal of information, reduce cogent facts to pithy
solutions, examine and evaluate all alternatives, and do the Right Thing.

He was a good reptile to have in a tight spot. This made him valuable
enough to survive most of the petty jealousies which some claimed had held
the AAnn back more seriously than all the actions of enemy races.

The landing was made with practically no belt) from the ground, since the
Enclave's survivors hadn't been able to scrounge much of the proper
equipment from the wreckage. Despite intensive battle training, the pilot
wasn't prepared for so much mist and moist fog. Moreover, the island was a
tiny enough target in clear weather. The landing was thus predictably
rough, but Riidi said nothing. He was content to have landed on dry land.
Although on this planet, he reflected, there really wasn't any such.

The officer who greeted him had a haunted look about the eyes. But his
bearing was still straight, his tattered uniform correctly aligned, and
natural dignity subsituted for a lack of pomp and ceremony. He was flanked
by two junior officers, each of whom had that same haunted, distant look.
There was also a single elderly human.

Riidi was not surprised. The Commander had informed him via transceiver to
expect the mammal

Parquit saluted smartly. "Glory to the Emperor's line. His servant awaits
you." The Baron returned the salute, muttered, "Glory." His salute was
sloppy and brief. Already his eyes were taking in what was left of the
Enclave. Taking in the twisted metal, the shattered foundations, not
missing even the pulped vegetation, massive treetrunks snapped off at the
base.

"One creature did all this." It was not a question.

"One creature," said Parquit, staring at the Baron. The noble's gaze
returned to the Commander.

"And you had nothing to stop it?"

"Baron, we tried everything, following the initial surprise. All our
weaponry had no effect on it whatsoever. Nor did some small but powerful
humans devices."

"Ali! The locals have had belligerent contact with it also, then?"

"On a small scale, as far as I know. Yes. The contact was brief." Parquit
made an effort to change the subject. "How soon can the nye be taken off?
There are some in need of extensive medical care. I could have submitted
them to a humans: infirmary center, but such was unthinkable, of course.
The wounded concurred."

"Of course. What of your personnel elsewhere on the planet at the time of
the attack?"

"There were not many. Away from the Enclave they were forced often to
experience the local weather. A punishing duty for even a short while."

"I can well imagine." Riidi sniffed the moist, sticky air with distaste.

"The last returned this morning. They were recalled gradually, so as not to
provoke awareness of anything unusual among the humanx populace. Such
precautions are no longer necessary since you have arrived. The Consul
himself, of course, will remain in the capital until the situation has been
clarified."

Riidi noticed the human smiling at him, paused.

"And what of this grinning primate, who finds the occasion so amusing?"

"A local. A drugger and trafficker in many things. Bloodhype, for one."

"I am that," said Rose, feeling it was time he said something. "Got a
goodly sample of my wares with me, too." He held up the lethal case.

"What interest have you," asked Riidi, "with such as this?"

"Ploy and counter?ploy, sir. With the result that he has my word of safe
conduct off?planet to a point of his choosing. Like all vermin with a
talent for survival, he is basely intelligent."

"I think I understand, Commander. I prefer thinking of the situation that
way, rather than trying to envision you making a voluntary agreement with
such. Where is this monster now?"

"When it became clear we could not resist the creature, an
ultra?high?frequency emergency signal was transceived to our scattered
personnel. This drew them back to us. Until they arrived with their ships,
we had no proper receiving equipment for local castings. Judging from what
we have been able to intercept since then from the Rectory and receive from
the Consulate, the creature appears to be lying just offshore the capital
city itself."

"Which could complicate the procedure of bombardment," said the Baron.

Parquit glanced at Rose. "Yes, Baron. The prospect does not bother you,
human?"

"Nothing to endear me to this clump of earth." The old drugger shrugged.
"Unless ... maybe I shouldn't leave here after all." He looked thoughtful.

Parquit was so surprised by this announcement that he momentarily forgot
the Baron. "You have changed your mind, after all you have gone through to
assure your safe leaving?"

"Naw. Just a crazy thought. From what I've been able to worm out, it just
might be possible to communicate with the thing, somehow."

"What makes you believe that?"

"Well, it seems pretty clear to me that it can detect thoughts of other
intelligent beings. It sure knew what you were up to. All your fancy
equipment and all probably wasn't even necessary. Bet it would understand
you if you just thought at it. Seems to be practically invulnerable. Sure,
the thing turned on you once. Doesn't mean it's all?over evil. Might just
have been defending itself, frightened, or uncertain, or who knows what?
Properly approached in an unconfined situation, like now, it might prove
docile enough to handle."

"Do you not realize," began Parquit, "that the monster deliberately carried
out a complex program of deception? That it waited until it felt ready to
break free?" The Commander made a sharp, angry gesture. "Is this the work
of a potentially docile creature? I think not."

"Mebbee not. But the idea of controlling a thing as powerful as this has a
heap of appeal. Even if the association was set up on an equal basis, say."

"An arrangement at best worse than uncertain," said Riidi in clipped tones.
"Besides, the thing is not, as the Commander states, apparently inclined to
friendly discourse. And we have no evidence of this unique invulnerability
you speak of beyond the original records of the first expedition."

"But it is!" the drugger protested. "Ask your own people. You should've
seen it, with lasers and torpedoes and all bouncing right off!"

"Yet we have no permanent? confirmation," said Riidi, seeming to waver
slightly. "I cannot risk recommending a single nye without more than verbal
proof to present to my superiors. Not even that of my own subordinate." He
looked pointedly at Parquit.

"Look, with half a chance I'd take it myself," said Rose. "Some day, but
not today. But there is concrete proof. There was a special recorder going
the whole time. I saw it activated and it never stopped until the thing
broke in."

"You are observant," conceded Parquit. "Indeed, I set it myself. Yet it was
smashed in the general destruction, I fear."

"You're crazy! It's back in the shelter, right where you left it. A big
dumb?bell?shaped affair."

"You must be mistaken," said Parquit. "Yet your description is accurate
enough."

"You must be blind. It's setting there still, I'll bet"

"Could you find it?" asked Riidi. "The Commander seems to believe it does
not still exist."

"Sure I can get it."

"Do so, then, and I will see you receive proper recompense. The records
themselves will be invaluable. Yet we cannot remain here much longer. You
have," he glanced at a chronometer, "four time?parts." The Baron turned to
face Parquit. "If the human is right, you will suffer for it."

"Baron, I...

"We've got a bargain, then," said Rose. "I'll be back in two." He whirled
and headed back into the ruins.

Parquit waited till the human was out of ?sight, then turned back to the
fleet commander. "My thanks, Baron."

"Thanks are accepted, if not necessary. Not where the subject is mere
vermin control. Your suggestion worked well. He is blinded by greed and
thoughts of power."

"You had him thinking too fast to be reflective," said Parquit. "As to your
own instructions, shall we return to the ship?"

"If all your people are boarded by now, as planned."

"Yes. I regret the need of treating such as that with such elaborate
planning. Yet the drug he threatened us with requires the most delicate
handling. Once released we would have had no second chance. I am relieved
to have it out of my sight."

"I understand," the Baron said. He turned and led the way back towards the
shuttle, Parquit keeping pace at one side. "And now we come back to the
problem itself. And the simple question of a possible interstellar conflict
neither party would wish."

"I would suggest following the official conversation with the Governor with
a private one involving the local military leader. He is sufficiently
prosaic, enough to countenance the bombardment if convinced of its need."

"I wish it so," replied Riidi. "If this creature gains in power as rapidly
as you imply, it should be destroyed as soon as possible. If it can be
arranged, such action must be taken with the approval and agreement of the
vermin authorities. If such is not forthcoming ... well, the red sand blows
where it will, Commander, where it will."



Rose heard the muffled growl of the AAnn shuttle when its engines caught.
He turned and ran without thinking. After covering a few meters, be slowed
and stopped Such exertion was not good for a man of his age. Nor practical.
So he watched quietly as the AAnn vessel made a perfect lift?off and rose
on a pillar of yellow-red waxen fire. It disappeared into the comforting
clouds.

He permitted himself a few choice cuss words. Actually, he was more unhappy
at being outfoxed than being left behind. That lizard had set him up
perfect and he, Rose, had been picked off clean and clear.

He brightened abruptly. If what the snake had said was true, then he wasn't
completely marooned here. There should be some sleek Enclave hoverafts and
maybe a foilskipper or two tied up in the ruined harbor. The ones that
those scattered diplomatic personnel had returned on. If just one held a
fair amount of fuel, it wouldn't be impossible for him to make it back to
the capital.

Once there? well, the same trick worked on different folks. The death he
toted was very democratic. And there was another possibility, interesting
in light of his prospects for the future. If the AAnn chanced across him
again he'd be incinerated without thought?if he were lucky. With a complete
record of his drug?running and other illegal activities, the humanx were
unlikely to greet him with rosewater and lemonbeef. Nor would his
colleagues in the underworld consider him a safe risk anymore. Even his
friends would consider him too hot to help.

There remained that other choice. He'd only flippantly meant what he'd said
about attempting a single?mind contact with the monster. Given his other
chances, the idea took on a certain reckless appeal. Perhaps it had bolted
off in a sudden snit. Maybe it would be amenable to some form of control or
direction. Or ff it were as intelligent as it seemed, an alliance? Rose
spun thoughts insideout, the reverse of small spiders. Such power! Ain't it
worth a try for such a prize? Always do the unexpected, old man! You're
running out o alternatives. The law off averages is ready to prosecute.
Take the sun?risk, side-pockets, take it!

You're gonna die soon anyway. And there are plenty ready to give you a
hand?down. Bootstraps, old man, bootstraps?

He realized the decision wasn't entirely sane. But it was made. So the
creature was lying offshore the capital? That would take care of the usual
commerce patrols. He would go there.

Perhaps all it soak to make comprehensible contact with an evil?minded
being was another evil?minded being.

He began walking towards the harbor. The laugh that bubbled up out of him
was a little too high and west on a little too long.

There were a few standard hoverafts? and the big cargo waveskimmer. Deity
knew what the AAnn, who hated water?Contact, did with an open?decked craft.
But it would take a beam or shell better than the lower lying,
thinner?hulled rafts. And its tank was three?quarters full. It was a
locally built craft and not an imported AAnn device, so the controls were
familiar. The foredeck had been built up even higher to keep out any hint
of spray. Even so, it would get cold up there.

The thing was built for long jaunts. He'd have a margin of safety in the
tanks that a raft couldn't afford. No point in making it to the city and
stopping dead in the water. He'd like the option of further travel. It
would be fast enough.



The Vom and the Guardian fought.

On certain levels molecules were badly battered. There was a change due and
both sensed it. The Vom could not tell how or when, but it was still
jubilant over the arrival of the AAnn fleet. For this was one way it had
traveled between worlds, on the ships and backs and minds of other races,
chained to the Vom?self. Chained.



Kitten piloted the hoveraft over a mild sea. Whitecaps sparkled like
citrine in the early morning sun. The mist was burning upwards and it would
be clear and bright soon.

If he weren't involved in an impossible series of events culminating in an
absurd search, Mal might have enjoyed the sight. He wasn't hungry, nor
tired, for the first time in some while. He longed wishfully for the
routine and peace of a normal trading cruise, light?years from everything.
He was just about fed up.

"Look, Kitten. I've been dragged through this once before. Government
secrecy or no, dammit, this time I'd like to know what I'm getting into
before it up and smacks me in the chops."

"Okay, we're looking for ... you remember our late friend Rose?"

"I'm afraid so. What about him?"

"I never saw him without that case of bloodhype on the AAnns' island. He
never put it down or let go of it for a second. I'd guess he slept chained
to it." She was staring straight ahead, speaking softly. "I think it's safe
to assume it'll still be with him."

"Sure ... wherever the body is. You should pardon the sentiment, `so what?'
Are you so concerned about collecting evidence for a posthumous
prosecution? If the case is still intact and unbroken, it'll stay put. The
government can recover it anytime," he concluded.

"Don't you remember what Peot said?" she continued. "About the monster not
being affected by energy weapons? What about biological ones?"

"You're kidding. The thing is utterly alien. And too big.,,

"As far as we know, bloodhype's nearly a universal drug. And as far as the
thing's size is concerned you know what a milligram of that powder can do.
What about a few kilos? According to the reports, the monster ingests its
food and expels practically nothing in the way of ?waste products. It's a
super?efficient metabolic factory ... Hitting or shooting the creature with
the powder could have several effects. Open, it might be absorbed
immediately. That would be ideal, of course, since the powder would go into
the thing's digestive system rapidly. Or the powder might be ingested
first, without the case."

"Or," interrupted Mal, "the monster might ignore it entirely. In that case
the effort wouldn't be just useless, it'd be suicidal, because the thing's
sure to notice the shooters. And if the powder were released at the wrong
time, we'd be likely to get a pretty good whiff ourselves."

"I still think it's worth a try. Chances are we won't be able to dig the
case out anyway."

"Agreed. But I'm beginning to see that no one's going to leave this planet
until that thing is destroyed. And I've about as much confidence in the
peaceforce at Repler City doing that as I do of finding that case."

"Then why let it upset you?" Kitten smiled.

Mal was staring hard out the glassite port. He moved to a swivel?mounted
viewer, stared a moment longer. "I think we'll have to revise our guess
about everyone in the Enclave being killed."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Unless this viewer is badly scratched, I believe our case, with friend
Rose still attached, is coming to meet us. Yes, without doubt."

"Damn the man!" She actually stomped her foot. "How is it that such people
are always the ones who manage to survive?"

"Carrion?eaters grow tough with age, Kitten. Hardly a new revelation. He'll
pass as portside soon." He cut off and grabbed for a chair as Kitten threw
the raft into a screaming turn. Clouds of spray flew meters high as the
fans hit the water at an angle, threatening to turn them over.

"We'll catch him," she said grimly. "We're faster than he is. Where does he
think he's heading, anyway? We'll be in city waters in five minutes.
Doesn't he know he can be shot on sight?"

"He knows where he's heading. If he's still got that case of powder with
him and if the wind's right, he could try and blackmail the Governor this
time. Once it gets in the air there's no way to fight the stuff. You
couldn't treat the whole population soon enough any more than you could get
them all into pressure suits in time. The city couldn't take that kind of
epidemic. Let me see if I can raise him on 'cast."

Mal made a few adjustments on the transceiver. "Waveskimmer, waveskimmer.
Hoveraft behind you. We are closing. Please respond, you bastard." No
answer. "Doesn't the old idiot know the Vern is around here somewhere?
There are easier ways of committing suicide."

No picture, no response. "You're in a maximum danger area, Rose! Wake up!"

Static; scratchy voice. "I know, Hammurabi." The onboard computer matched
frequencies and the voice cleared. "I'm bright?eyed and bushy?tailed, to
use an archaism better suited to your Tolian tagalong. Tain't dangerous for
me! I know what I'm about."

"Crazy," Mal whispered to Kitten.

"Not by half, boy! I seem to keep running into you lately. Bad luck for
?both of us. Klashing Karmas. You alone?"

"Lieutenant Kai?sung is with me."

"Call me that once more," she murmured, "and I'll break your head."

"Listen, you touchy ... !"

"My, my, dissension, dissension!" Rose's tone was mocking. "I am in
desperate straits, I see clearly. Why not wise up and try a profitable,
predictable life in subtle evasion of accepted convention, Hammurabi?"

"And be secure in my old age, like you? Huh?uh, Rose."

"Have you got the drug with you?" interrupted Kitten, unable to hold off
any longer.

"My life?insurance? You must be joking."

"We want it," said Mal. "We want you, too, but I'd be willing to pass over
that if you turn the stuff over."

"I've already had one offer pulled back on me. I don't think I'm ready to
try the same again so soon. Let me think on it a mite. I've always been a
gambler. I've still got a few chips left."

"Convince him! You're supposed to be the salesman!" Kitten whispered.
"We're getting too close to the city." The computer indicated the shrinking
distance between themselves and the island of Will's Landing, on which
Repler City had been built.

"I've no time to argue with you, Rose. Turn about and hand the drug over
and I'll see . . . "

"No good, Hammurabi. Sorry, lad. If this works out and you change your mind
about me, I night give you a job as a taskmaster."

"Taskmaster?" Mal whispered to Kitten. "He is crazy!"

"See, lad, I know a good bit more about this monster than you think I know.
I even know more than you think I know you know. I believe some sort of
agreement wherein I supply, oh, locations of certain storehouses, general
information, military advice and so forth might work out to mutual benefit.
This thing has wants. I don't know how well it reads minds yet, or when."

"Listen, old man, you're asking for a quicker death than any you'd get from
your own kind. There's more at stake here than your life. Or ours. Turn the
drug over and forget any insane ideas you've got about trying to ally
yourself with the alien. You won't even make a decent?sized snack."

"You haven't got another choice," Kitten added.

"How kind of you to be so solicitous of my health, little bird." He paused.
"Your urgency intrigues me. You want the drug but are willing to let me go.
What are you going to do, go into business for yourself?" he sneered.

"We think it might have some effect on the monster," she pleaded. Mal
looked at her approvingly. This was a new act. It had appeal.

Rose only found it amusing. Or perhaps he found everything funny now. He
laughed openly.

"You ?ascribe too much power even to jaster! Now if you were to personally
guarantee my safety ... off?planet transportation ... immunity from
prosecution ... why, I might, just might, consider it."

"I ... I can't. Not with you. With what you've done. I can't promise that
for others."

"Ha! You see?"

"No, wait, wait!" Her face was taut. "Mal, see if you can raise the
Rectory. There might be a channel open. I think the Major would consent to
the bargain."

"You're really going to try and make a deal with that old scum? After what
he had done to you? After what he was going to have done to you?"

"Don't make this any harder than it is, please!" She looked at him and this
time it wasn't an act, no.

Mal adjusted the transceiver to tune in to any open Rectory frequency.
"That's the first time you ever asked me a favor instead of threatening or
blackmailing your way into it."

"Oh, shut up."

Expectedly, Orvenalix wasn't available. Kitten got him available.

"Well, Lieutenant, things are certainly interesting around here." He
twitched his antennae in a motion indicating thranx sarcasm. "How does your
garden grow?" " Ple astwin nirer, hyl.' Quite contrary, taking m certain
cogent points." She explained the situation.

"I've linked up as you suggested," came Rose's voice clearly. The multiple
hookup was crude, but would serve. "Tridee also. No tricks, now."

"You know who I am?" asked Orvenalix.

"My guardian angel? How could I help but know you Major? You've cost me a
lot, in the past."

"Would that it were more. I shall concur with the Lieutenant's
recommendations in all respects."

"Swear by your hive?mother, the Queen, and your larval corridor."

"Done," said Orvenalix, after rattling off a long string of ancient thranx
no one could understand. They apparently satisfied Rose, however.

Orvenalix betrayed none of the fury he must have felt. Restraining emotions
as strong as that would drive many humans mad. Such emotional control was
accepted matter?of?factly among the thranx.

"For all, uh, past discrepancies as well?"

"All that I have jurisdiction over. You'll have to take your chances on
other worlds. I have only so much authority. You're stretching it now. Turn
over the drug."

There was a long pause during which the only sound from Rose's end was that
of the wind eddying across the pickup.

A sigh. "Oh, well, all right. It was a long?shot idea anyway. I think I was
over?rationalizing for a while, there."

"He's slowing!" Kitten shouted, switching her gaze from the raft 'tector to
the port.

"You honestly think that bloodhype will have any effect on that monster?"
asked Mal.

She looked past him, at a spot on the far wall. "Maybe not. But I don't
think anything else will either, except maybe what Peot can do. If that
fails, you know the alternative. The drug has to be tried."

Rose slid over into the lee of one of the innumerable tiny islets that
speckled Repler. They were so close to the city the towers of the central
business district could be seen clearly. ?

"Have the case ready," instructed Mal over the comm. "And no tricks
yourself. I'd as lief break your neck as make money."

"Impressive warning! Tricks, from me? Insults! I'm now an honest man,
absolved of past sin. Didn't you hear? As clear of conscience and ..."

"Pious, isn't he? Enjoys rubbing it in."

"Ready to convert, no doubt," said Kitten. "The man leaves a sour taste. To
let him go free like this?that damn drug!"

"I'll try not to do anything crazy, like busting him one. Remember: Phrases
of Import and Salvation, The Book, Chapter IX: To be angered by evil is to
partake of it ... stupid.

"You're a student?"

"I've read some of The Book. Who hasn't?"

They pulled alongside the waveskimmer. It rocked gently in the slight
swell, engines idling. Mal could see Rose strapped into the pilot's seat on
the high foredeck. Kitten cut their own engines and he glanced back at her.
"Want to do the honors?"

"Every time I set eyes on that person my faith in humanity drops several
notches. It's rock bottom now." She swiveled in her chair. "At least the
case is intact. No drug, no pardon. You do it."

Mal grunted, took a step towards the door. When his foot came down, the
floor wasn't there anymore.

The deck dropped away from under him, bounced up at a different angle. Mal
found himself tumbling head over reason. The far wall turned into a
ceiling, came up too fast. Dazed, he struggled to his knees while the ship
played cocktail shaker around him. Several loud clangs .sounded from the
rear of the raft. Kitten screamed. He turned in her direction.

She was still strapped into the pilot's seat, silhouetted against the gray
sky. A jet?black curtain shot through with silver was shutting out the
light. The blackness that finally overcame him was of a more familiar
variety.



Down in the abyss of its vast consciousness, a miniscule portion of the
Vom?mind noted the incident. It was recorded and filed for further
attention. It could not be spared time for follow?up or evaluation. Not
now. Worlds were at stake.

On some parts of Repler, iron changed unnoticed to gold. And on at least
one island, to copper. Then back again. Fish of a hundred different
varieties schooled, forming unnatural association.

A small, peaceful crustacean reeled under the impact of an intelligence
boost of a hundred thousand times. It was immediately gobbled by a torpid
bottom feeder.

The second moon, which continued to spin counterclockwise, abruptly lowered
its orbit a hundred kilometers.

Repler VI and VII were both gas giants. They began to break up, responding
to titanic internal convulsions. Great clouds of ammonia and methane flew
off like cotton into space.

On a large island, a snake?like reptile was trying to slither from one
branch to one on another tree. Limbless body, straining. A force capable of
destroying continents acted. Another pushed and lifted. A nanosecond of
conflict. The pseudosnake leaped, missed. Fell and died. It was more
important than an exploding gas giant or massscale transmutation. The
killer knew it. The lifter knew it.

A rock spoke. The temperature of the sun rose, fell, rose again. There was
a sudden high tide with no moon in the sky. Moral considerations aside, it
was apparent that the Vom

was winning.

With the resources of half a million years of accumulated knowledge and
power, the Guardian?Machine fought back. Rut it had waited too long. Its
power was finite. It could not grow as the Vom was, growing. Too strong,
too quickly. Miscalculation. The Guardian Machine foresaw disaster.

The Vom was stronger now than it had been even when the Guardian was first
activated, millenia ago. The stimulus of battle forced it to grow
exponentially. It would forge another empire dedicated to, constructed for,
one purpose. The perpetuation and greater glory of the Vom. There would be
no mistakes this time. No underestimation of an opponent. The Guardian must
be rendered permanently inactive. This time the Vom would not abuse its
life?resources. The small intelligences would be assimilated carefully, to
insure continuation of a healthy ecosystem. No wanton consumption. Feeding
would be judicious, entertainment and experiment well reasoned. It would
...

Something struck the Vern elsewise. Something strange, new, unaccountable,
and utterly undetected aforehand. It was raw strength, more powerful even
than the Guardian?Machine, but not as mature, as sophisticated in the use
of power. It was different and it showed. It fought unrelentingly,
uncompromisingly, openly. It fought mathematically diverse and helically
perverse.

Unemotionally the Vom retreated, countered, struck back. The counterattack
rebounded. No victory; no defeat.

The stalemate was resumed.

A hundred parsecs away a quartz pebble (not very good quartz, but honest
quartz) blazed momentarily with the light of a thousand suns. There were
none around to appreciate it. The light died, but the pebble lived.

Stalemate.



"Well what is it, Hanover?" Ashvenarya said gruffly. It would not have been
proper nor seemly for a thranx to be upset this far from action, but the
Admiral was tense nonetheless. Given the peculiarities of the situation, he
felt it justified.

"We are within influence of the system, sir. The fleet is going off YI
drive and

"I know that, lieutenant. The flagship went off it nearly thirty minutes
ago and I should damn well hope the others followed suit. Get to your
point."

"Sir, there appears to be another fleet already in orbit around the planet.
Since we've received no official notification of another major force in
this sector I thought ..."

The admiral was already running for the lift, rubbing at his bad compound
eye with silicon?treated tissue. The lieutenant had to move awkwardly,
running every few steps. The old sector commander was moving on all four
legs.

"You retain information like a machine, Hanover. Which is one of the
reasons I keep you as aide. Egg knows there're few enough. You're quite
correct. I ordered no other ships sent to Repler and there aren't any other
Church or Commonwealth forces close enough to be here before us. Which
leaves one alternative. Whoever mans those ships is neither human nor
thranx. I admit that's not logical either, but then nothing about this
situation has been so far."

The lift carried them to the bubble nexus suspended in the center of the
battlewagon.

"Preliminary evaluation?" Ashvenarya barked as he floated smoothly down a
rampway.

"The distance is still substantial, sir, and we have the sun full in front.
Ship's predictors read thirty?nine confirmed, with at least twelve
probables. Battle?fleet class, sir."

"Tunnels! Now I have this to worry on, too."

"I confess surprise, sir, that the commander of the local garrison did not
try to warn you via interspace of this fleet's presence."

"Orvenalix is a capable officer, Lieutenant. I don't doubt he didn't
because he couldn't. Or he might have tried and been jammed, coerced, shot
... we swam in ignorance for now."

They entered a gravity lock, slipped slowly and easily into free?fall. It
wasn't true free?fall, being rather a state in which artificial gravity was
negated. Something like swimming through thin gelatin. The complex state,
difficult to maintain, was generated only at the center of the ship, its
battle headquarters and flight center. A military secret as fanatically
guarded as the mechanism of the KK SCCAM weapons?system, the field would
protect them from everything but complete power loss or direct hit.

"For another thing, lieutenant he might have feared the AAnn would pick up
and decode a message that might precipitate action."

"You suspect them then, sir?"

"They have a naval base of considerable size nearby. I know of few other
races cohabiting this section of space that could mount a force of this
size, even if they had the time to assemble them from across the Arm.
Anyway, I would assume it to be our reptilian compatriots even were this a
small force. With a fleet, I think the question becomes academic."

"Do you think they may already have ... ?"

"No, no, lieutenant. Were that the case, we would have heard something."

Churchmen of many races, with thranx and human predominating, saluted
smartly when the Admiral floated into the battle center. He returned them
easily with a truhand while heading rapidly for his combat basket. The
lieutenant took up his own post nearby.

The old Commander had run a thousand possibilities and alternatives through
his mind while conversing with his young human aide. The thoughts itched.
Incidentally, he reflected that Lieutenant Hanover?might metamorphose into
a fine commander someday. Despite the mask of fawning innocence he
occasionally chose to wear, the lad was sharp as a sting. The mask was
well?crafted, too. Another point in his favor. But he still needed honing
and a lot of hard prodding in the imagination. He ought to receive plenty
of both, this trip.

"Communications! I'd appreciate it if you'd try and raise the flagship of
our unknown visitors."

At that moment a frail?looking thranx seated across the center, looking as
much a part of his instrumentation as a computer terminal, turned slightly
in his harness.

"By remarkable coincidence, sir, I have this very second acquired a signal
which appears directed at us from the formation in question. I envision a
confluence of objectives."

"Spare me the philosophy and put it through."

An elderly reptilian face, haughty and proud, whitescaled, appeared on the
big screen over the commboard.

"His munificence," began the official herald, "the Baron Riidi WW, Ruler of
Torsee Provinces, Executor of ...

"Spare me the titles this once," Ashvenarya broke in, "and put your
commander on."

The face froze. "Proper diplomatic courtesy demands that ..." The
admonition was interrupted by a strong offscreen voice. It hissed
surprisingly little for an AAnn.

"Never mind, herald." There was a brief flicker and another reptilian face
appeared on the screen. It was sharp?featured, almost handsome, proud. The
gaze was piercing. "Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?"

"Admiral Ashvenarya, Fourth Sector Commandant, Humanx Commonwealth,
operating under United Church charter and I'll skip a few titles of my own.
A little out of your regular bailiwick aren't you, Baron?"

"And you too are here with so many ships for rest and relaxation on the
pleasure?world below, Admiral?" The tone was mildly reproachful. "It
remains that a threat to the entire galaxy lies on the planet below us."

"Would you be referring to a certain amorphous black monstrosity of unknown
origins and, from what I am told, rather considerable powers?"

"Unless you know of another. As I guessed, our purpose here appears to be
the same, then."

"Not quite, Baron. That's a humanx colony orbiting below us, and my
presence here is perfectly natural. Yours, I fear, remains open to certain
questions."

The Baron affected an air of outrage. "No action of any sort was
contemplated without the prior concurrence of the local authorities."

"I'd like to believe that, Baron. Indeed, I'd like to believe that. For
many reasons."

"Not the least of which, Admiral, is that we are of no use to our
respective races if we battle among ourselves, fya? If you will merely
contact your commandant below ?a Major of the Church name of Orvenalix, I
believe- I've no doubt he will agree to the course of action I have in
mind. I offer a joint council of war, not a declaration of one."

"I think we might struggle along without your help," the thranx admiral
replied.

"Sir, the commander of the Imperial Enclave on Repler had the opportunity
to observe this creature's strength at closer claw than was desired. This
as his own station was being pulled down around his oculars. He would not
agree with you. I myself inspected the ruins of his command. I do not agree
with you. Were you to have seen the same I venture to say you would not
agree with you. In fact, I would hope that between the two of us we may be
able to control the monster."

Ashvenarya considered. Briefly.

"Perhaps. Very well, I trust you? from microsecond to microsecond."

"My own extends no longer."

"Our ships will move into orbits confluent with yours. While I determine
upon a course of action you will take no action on your own. This must be
understood."

"Understood," replied the Baron placidly. "Only, please not to take
overlong, Admiral, or our agreement will become strained ... by time."

"It might prove that a joint action of some sort is required much as the
thought distresses me."

"I have little love for your kind, either, Admiral." Teeth flashed. "Under
normal circumstances... "

"Which these are definitely, conclusively, not." Ashvenarya waved and the
contact was broken.



Despite the violent attack levied by a new and completely unexpected
opponent, the Vom found cause to rejoice. A second fleet! More strength to
complement its own! It could now travel from planet to planet in almost
respectable fashion.

For possibly the ten thousandth time it tried to analyze this new power
arrayed against it. About the Guardian's mental attitude it had no qualms.
The Guardian?Machine had been and would be an implacable opponent until one
of the two ancient enemies was destroyed.

But what of this new factor? Could it mayhap be persuaded into a
realignment of forces for mutual benefit? With a galaxy at stake, the Vom
was willing to share. Or could it at least be convinced to withdraw from an
ancient and private conflict, leaving the way clear for the Vom's victory?

The Vom reached out again and made contact. What it encountered on a
non?combatant level was surprising. This second opponent had not even fully
matured, had not mastered its own power! In its probing the Vora must take
care not to stir latent abilities, hidden secrets, not to upset the balance
of internal power. The potential here was frightening.

In fear the Vora nearly backed off. But after determining that the being
could not read the sub?surface layers of Vom?thought, it returned to the
contact, expanded it.

(curiously: dialogue on a Different plane)

WHO ARE YOU?

(picture contact nee verbal/concept sub?vocalization)

A TRANSPARENT ORCHID : SUNSPOTS ON LEAVES: STAMEN AND PETAL: SLOW FUSION

(rejoinder)

AND YOU, MONSTER?

(arrow?straight conceptualization)

GREAT VOID: VOIDNESS? : ANGRY VACUUM

DARK EFFLUVIA : MALIGNANT MIASMA : CANCER MUSING : OLEAGINOUS OLLAPODRIDA

(pause)

WHY DO YOU FIGHT ME?

YOU ARE EVIL

(confusion/introspection/analysis)

EVIL? THERE IS NO EVIL

IT MAY BE SO. BUT THERE IS WHAT IS COMMONLY RATIONALIZED AS GOOD. YOU ARE
CLEARLY NOT?GOOD. A GOOD?NEGATIVE. YOU TRY TO RATIONALIZE EVIL. CHAOS!

(cousideration/thought/tacking)

FIGHT ME NO MORE AND I WILL MAKE YOU MASTER OF HALF THE GALAXY.

THE GALAXY HAS TOO MANY MASTERS ALREADY. NO.

"WHAT CAN I OFFER YOU?

YOUR DEATH.

(anger/arrogance/disbelief)

COMPLAISANT COMPLIANCE? SURRENDER? ACQUIESCE? INTRODUCE NEGATIVES INTO A
SUPREME FUNCTIONARY NEGATIVITY? NEVER!

SEE? YOU MUST DIE (strange voice)

I CANNOT DIE : I WILL NOT DIE: I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DIE

THEN I MUST HELP YOU TO LEARN



The Vom terminated contact. With all its shadings and half?tones the entire
conversation had taken perhaps a few seconds.

The strange opponent possessed a self?confidence that conflicted with its
lack of self?knowledge. Maybe, the Vom considered, it was fighting on too
personal a level. Possibly an exterior demonstration would have some moral
effect.

Using its fully matured mind for the first time beyond the battle, the Vom
reached out ...

On board the humanx flagship Zimbabwe, instruments died with suddenness and
finality. The eerie blue?green of the local emergency fighting flickered on
a moment later.

There was little panic in the nexus. After all, this was the nerve?center
of the fleet. The personnel were the class of each rating. So there was no
hysteria.

Things went otherwise on some other ships.

"Communications, all ships report status. Hold position, hold fire.
Commodore, damage report. All hands to battle stations."

The replies came thick and fast.

"Communications, sir. All intership comet units, including storage and
backup facil 

" ... no visible damage or shorting, Barge! It's crazy ... !"

"... ities on all ship channels inoperable. Emergency backup
systematization totally inoperative, Admiral."

"That's impos ... ! Status report!" Ashvenarya accepted the situation and
changed in mid?sentence.

Again, quick reply.

"All communicators down to hand?units inoperable. Engineering reports
central KK drive unit shut down for sub?light as well as supra?light
capability at 0954.4 shiptime." The communicator's tone changed to one less
officious. "That means the whole ship is in free?fall status, sir."

"Going to play havoc with the housekeeping. What else?"

An engineer was bent over a heavily instrumented console. He was checking
dials and meters against a computer readout. A muscle twitched nervously in
his neck.

"All exterior and numerous interior systematizations report dead,
underpowered or inoperative, sir. Computer indicates conjunctive causation.
With the exception of basic life support and non?offensively oriented
interior emergency functions, the ship is effectively immobilized."

"Dead, you mean. Kyash!" Ashvenarya swiveled his basket to face the human
Commodore. The Zimbabwe was, after all, his command.

"Do you think the shuttles and lifeboats will operate, Moorea?"

"They're all self?contained, of course, sir. But even assuming that
whatever has affected the ship has spared them, the bay doors and release
mechanisms are shippowered, so ..." Moorea shrugged helplessly. "We can
utilize abandonment methods, true, but."

"No, I'm not ready for that yet either, Commodore. I want no precipitous
action here. KK storage cells don't just go stale like honeyfrye, nor do
emergency battle power?backup systems for communications and weapons
complexes die while their life?support counterparts continue to operate. We
are the subjects of a selective attack procedure of unknown power and
undeniable effectiveness! ... Lieutenant Hanover!"

Sir?

"There ought to be several ways of contacting the other ships of the fleet.
We're orbiting tight and close. Try mirrors, wave handkerchiefs. I'm not
particular about how you do it. I've got to know if ours is an isolated
case?it's not inconceivable that we are the victims of some local spatial
phenomena?or if, as I suspect, everyone else has been hit the same."

"Aye, sir." Hanover left his basket and commenced pulling himself via hand
and claw holds to the nearest lock. Since the gravity for the ship was
supplied by KK storage power when the vessel was not in supralight space,
the ship was in full free?fall. The lock had no purpose now.

"Oh, and Hanover!"

"Admiral?" Hanover exerted pressure on a bar near the lock, floated steady.

"See if you can help the dispensary personnel, Doctor Furman and Surgeon
Lee and the others, get organized. They may need some extra help. Authorize
whatever they need. Going from .31 gee to no?weight as abruptly as the rest
of the ship probably did, there'll be a lot of men who lost more than just
breakfast."

"Yes sir." The Lieutenant turned and pushed off, disappearing like a
feather down the lock?tube.

"Well, Moorea?" The Admiral's antennae twined in frustration. "No crystals
of wisdom to offer?"

"I didn't think the AAnn had anything like this, Ash."

"Don't bet that they do, Pat, don't bet that they do. I dearly hope that,
if it's not a natural occurrence, the AAnn are responsible for this. The
alternative scares the sugar out of me. And I haven't been that frightened,
Pat, in a long, long time."

On board the heavy cruiser Sanderling not too many hundreds of kilometers
away, his munificence Baron Riidi WW was expressing similar sentiments, in
which Admiral Ashvenarya figured prominently.



Mal's head cleared with surprising speed soon after he opened his eyes. He
stared upwards and was confronted with the badly bent roof of the hoveraft.
Pushing against the hard pecces behind him, he struggled to a kneeling
position. By leaning on the outcropping for support he managed to inch his
way to his feet. He stood there, holding on until most of the dizziness had
passed. At about that time he became aware that pecces was not a normal
fixture in Replerian hoverafts.

Encrusted with shells and barnacle?like organisms, the sharp spine of the
reef projected a good meter and a half through the floor.

There was a moan forward. It was followed by some weak, if highly
imaginative, cursing in feminine tones.

"You all right?" he queried.

Kitten tried to swivel the pilot's chair,? failed. The pivot ring was
jammed against the supporting metal. She unstrapped herself, moving with
slow, pained gestures, and staggered towards the foreport. It had shattered
on impact. Cool seawater lapped gently against the bottom of the sprung
doorway. A small crustacean was already inspecting this new addition to the
reef.

Except for a slight list to the back and right, the raft was fairly level.
Mal took a step forward, nearly toppled. He put out an arm to grab a bar
projecting from the near wall and noticed idly that it was stained red in
places. Looking down at himself he was surprised to discover that the red
came from a broad but shallow gash across the right side of his chest. He'd
lost a lot of skin but not much blood. He ripped material from his left
sleeve to bind the wound. Fortunately, the bleeding had nearly stopped.

"See anything?"

"We're on a reef," she replied. "Rose's waveskimmer is jammed up in front
of us. Part of it seems to be under our bow. Probably what's causing our
listing. What's left of the skimmer, anyway. It's in much worse shape than
we are?not that this is seaworthy, either. Looks like he took the brunt of
the blow. Bottom's been ripped out."

"Any sign of the monster?"

"Looks like it's lying just under the surface of the water. Right about
where the reef ends, which isn't far enough away for my liking. Funny how
peaceful this all is. The reef . runs out about another twelve meters past
the skimmer and then seems to drop off sharply. From there on as far as I
can see the water's black as ink, like you could walk on it."

She left the port and moved back to the doorway. Mal moved up behind her as
she stepped gingerly from the raft. Bracing a hand against each side of the
doorway, he saw that the pecces itself lay barely ankle deep, even
protruding above the water in several places. The Vom claimed his attention
almost immediately.

Mal felt as though he were standing in front of an armed SCCAM shell. "It
may be intelligent enough, but it sure doesn't seem to notice us."

"We don't know how it perceives things," said Kitten as she picked her way
over the uneven, slippery footing. "For all we can tell it might be paying
all its attention to us. Waiting to see what the lab animals try next, I
guess. Since it could have killed us at will before I don't think it
intends to. Yet." She turned. "You're higher than I am. Any sign of the old
bastard?"

Mal leaned out, hooking an arm around the doorway. A brief spell of nausea,
then the sea air cleared his head completely. Peering around the front of
the uptilted raft, he could see the top of the waveskimmer easily. The
bottom of the bigger ship had been shaved off as neatly as though with a
laser. It lay tail up, park of its curved bow just under the nose of the
hoveraft.

A recognizably human figure was strapped motionless in the foredeck pilot's
seat.

"Looks like he wasn't thrown free. Seems to be lightout, though."

"Any sign of the case?"

"Sure is. It's still chained to his right wrist. Appears to be locked firm.
All the jerking and wrenching around didn't tear it loose."

"Is he alive?"

"Can't tell. He's sure not preparing violent resistance."

"He'd better be alive. Otherwise it's liable to take us days to figure out
how to open that thing. You can bet it's armed or full of acid or
something. We haven't got days. What are you doing?"

Mal had carefully edged out around the edge of the doorway. It wasn't a
long fall but the surface was sharp and inhospitable. The air cushion
around the base of the raft was thoroughly shredded. There was, however, a
ridge of metal running the circumference of the ship. The smooth sides of
the craft made walking on the centimeters?wide strip difficult, but the
captain's bulk belied his agility. He started edging towards the bow,
pressed flat against the side of the craft.

From the bow it was only a short hop to the canted deck of the skimmer. He
walked over to the motionless dragger, felt the thin wrist. The pulse was
strong.

"He's alive, anyway! Can't say I'm as glad as you seem to be."

He moved to the side of the ship. Leaning down, he extended a hand the size
of a battle helmet. Kitten paused, then walked over.

"Deck is slippery up here, too," he said. "That little walk was tricky, but
faster than trying to improvise a ladder or rope. This is quicker yet."

He enclosed her right hand in his while her left grasped his wrist. She
practically flew onto the deck.

"'You're as physically complete as you look," she murmured.

"Apelike, you mean?"

"Let's not, now, hmmm?" She walked over to Rose and spent a couple of
minutes examining him while Mal looked on. After a bit she flipped open a
small compartment in the side of a belt and selected from a small packet
one of several tiny ampules. It was no bigger than the nail of her little
finger, but she handled it carefully.

There was a bare spot where the trousers had been ripped away. Gray hairs
showed on the tanned leg. She jammed the ampule hard into the middle of the
quadriceps.

"What did you shoot him with?" Mal asked.

"Dexatrinahuline. Emergency dosage. He'll come around and be hyperactive fm
about an hour, after which he'll sleep for another fifteen and then wake up
good as new?unfortunately. It works fast."

"Sure does," said the drugger, sitting up. He glanced rapidly about the
waveskimmer, then down at the wrecked hoveraft, finally out to sea. His
eyes settled on the black reef that was the Vom.

"Nothing expansive," he said. "Just a little tap to inconvenience us. Maybe
we ..." He reached down and rubbed his thigh. "That was quite a jolt of
whatever it was you gave me. Don't recognize it offhand but I've probably
sold it."

"It wasn't done out of concern for your health," Kitten said grimly. "Now,
how does one open that case of yours?without getting poisoned, burned,
shattered, or otherwise `inconvenienced'?"

"Now, why would you want to know that?"

Mal reached down and grabbed Rose's right shoulder. He could feel the bones
and wiry muscles under the cloth. A slight pressure, so, and Rose winced.

"Okay, okay! No need? to get tough. There's a solid gas?air pattern charge
'onside the shell that blows the case apart but doesn't affect the
contents. You arm it by pressing this lock button, here ..." he indicated a
slot for a magnetic key, ". . . and then grip the handle. There's a trigger
built into the handle underside. Once the keytab has been pressed and the
trigger cocked, when pressure is removed ... wham!"

"How long?" asked Kitten.

"When you press the keytab down, you turn your thumb to the right as far as
the tab will go before letting up. That'll give you up to sixty seconds
before the blast. More time than that wouldn't be practical."

"Not much time to get away," said Mal.

"It wasn't designed to be anything but a last?resort type threat. Planning
a little blackmail with it yourselves, mebbee?"

"If it can be placed against the creature," Kitten said, "chances are good
that if detonated or absorbed the monster would take in enough to affect
its system. It shouldn't be impossible. The thing can't be more than half a
meter below the surface."

"There's a small lifeboat on the back of this skimmer. There was one on the
raft, too, but it's been replaced by a hunk of reef. The draft should be
shallow enough so that the Vom will ignore it."

Mal prodded the drugger's leg. "What do you think? Could the drug do
anything?"

"Why can say? The Vote?that's its name, eh? ?is an unknown quality. But
this amount of bloodhype," ?he indicated the case? "is a unique gathering,
too. Sure be a., interesting experiment. Of course, if the monster does
absorb the case and the drug, it might also absently ingest the boat and
boatman."

"An admitted complication," said Kitten. "One that I can't see a way
around. We'll just have to chance it. Unhook the case from that wrist
chain, please."

"You can't be serious, pretty?pretty! The idea's insane! I feel duty?bound
to protect you from yourself. I don't believe I should let you have it." He
clutched the precious container possessively.

"Unlock the chain," said Mal quietly, "or I'll simply detach the whole
arm."

"You argue persuasively, Captain." Rose bent over and did something to the
connecting links. There was a sharp click and the case was free.

Mal hefted it in one hand. "Very light, for so much death." He turned and
walked towards the rear of the skimmer. "Give me a hand with the boat,
Kitten."

"What makes you think you're going?"

"For openers, I can row faster, harder, and longer than you. I might have a
chance of making it far enough back to the reef to escape. You wouldn't."

"What about your precious credit account, Captain? There's neither profit
nor percentage in this for you."

"So I'm mentally erratic, like you say. Besides, Repler's always been a
profitable stopover for the Umbra. I'd like to see the suckers live a while
longer."

"I can accept your rationale," she replied. "But don't expect me to be
ladylike about it."

"Kitten, I wouldn't expect you to be ladylike about anything." He turned to
unfasten the braces holding the tiny boat. The blow that hit the back of
his neck was very clean and carefully judged.

"Well struck!" applauded Rose. "I admire your work, Can I give you a hand
with the boat?"

"The day I need to ask for your help I'll just sell my soul outright.
Mortgage and all."

"As you wish. I will need yours, then."

She turned and straightened slowly, staring at the object in his hand.

"That's interesting," she said evenly. "You have a gun."

"Yes. It's not much of a gun, of course, but it'll handle one person. I
didn't think it would take the both of you. Not the way the Captain moves.
So I decided to wait a bit in hopes of a better opportunity. I never
expected you to be' quite this obliging. Just goes to show. If you live
right..."



The small boat rocked gently in the blue?green water.

"Where do you think you're going in this teacup?" she asked. Her eyes never
left the muzzle of the tiny pistol.

"I'm going to try and skirt the edge of that thing. That should allow me to
try out a crazy idea I might as well have a crack at. If it doesn't shift
out, I ought to be able to slip into the city without being noticed.
Current'll help with the rough work. At that point I'll have a number of
options open. You'll excuse me if I don't elaborate. I don't think you'd be
sympathetic. Right now, I'm arming this toy."

Laying the gun aside?not far enough aside?he set the keytab and tied down
the trigger securely with a piece of cord.

"I can slip the knot on this fast enough if I have to. Gonna need both
hands for steering. Anybody takes a potshot at me, either I'll release the
trigger manually or shoot it loose. Either way the drug will be released
into the atmosphere. As soon as I get close enough to the city, rest
assured I'll do my best to stay upwind. You might as well stop staring at
the gun. I'm not so feeble I wouldn't beat you to it."

He lowered the small air?compression motor into the shallow water.

"And now, my lovely?love, I bid you good?bye." The sea bubbled like
soda?water around the stern of the little craft. It moved slowly off along
the edge of the reef, careful not to stray over the Vom.

Kitten stared for a moment, sighed deeply, and walked back to where Mal was
sitting on the deck. He was rubbing tile back of his neck. He did not look
happy.

"Well, I'm sorry, already! I told you not to expect me to be ladylike about
it."

"Congratulations." He looked around suddenly. "Well, where's the case? And
where's the old man?"

"Uh, considering that you didn't see anything, you've summarized the
situation neatly." She pointed out to sea. The small boat was now a good
many meters off, still chugging slowly along the reef edge. Soon it would
round the first spit of the island and be lost to sight.

"Well now, how did you manage that?"

"He had a gun."

"He had a gun," Mal replied slowly. "Why didn't he pull it before now?"

She turned away. "He said he was waiting for a better chance."

"Well, he sure got one." Mal struggled to his feet and walked forward. He
looked back at her and booted the instrument console something fierce. It
did not improve its shape.

"That's not going to help anything, you know," she said.

"Maybe not, little girl, but it does wonders for my primitive, ignorant
mind!" He booted it again.

"Oh, act your age, Captain! I ..." She paused, looked past him.

"Well, don't stop now. What ...?"

He turned and stared in the same direction.

A considerable distance off, a small figure standing in a boat was flailing
its arms frantically at the air. Towering on two sides of the figure, like
the walls of a canyon, were two night?black nightmare shapes not quite as
big as a pair of good?sized shuttlecraft. Their descent was graceful,
almost ballet?like. Unconsciously, Mal had slipped an arm around Kitten's
waist. This time she didn't move it.

"Was that a scream, there?" Her voice was even, but there was the slightest
tremor to it. She was remembering an earlier time on another island.

"I think so. There! An explosion?"

"Maybe. Maybe 

They waited anxiously. The halcyon sea recovered. The small boat was gone.

Needless to say, the small figure was too.

Kitten let out a long breath. "Well, I guess it wasn't a very good idea
after all." She slipped gently out of his grasp and peered over the twisted
railing of the skimmer.

"I think we ought to try and wade off the reef to the island proper. We can
come back for blankets and supplies. It's bound to be warmer inland than
out on these wrecks. Besides, they're liable to be pulled off the reef when
the tide comes in. I don't fancy being dumped into the surf at 2 a.m." She
slipped easily over the edge, hung by her fingers for a moment and dropped
lightly into the shallow water. Her knees bent as she took the impact.



A tiny portion of the entity that was the Vom reacted to a foreign
ingestion. A minute portion of the food did something odd to a few cells.
The strangeness was communicated to the Vom?mind. The reaction extended. A
group of cells were suddenly disoriented. At their center, neural
deracination took place. Idly, then more attentively, finally in a state of
real concern, the Vom sought to isolate the farrago. Some cells were
by?passed and not affected. Others were ... not harmed, but disoriented on
an increasingly massive scale. They became incapable of performing their
proper functions.

Synaptic connections were deliberately broken in an attempt to seal off the
infection. The attempt failed. Had the difficulty been enzootic, the Vom
might have controlled it. But it seemed to strike at random points,
unpredictably. The difficulties this caused were not irreparable, but at
the height of battle they were a disaster. A small portion of the Vom?mind
was forced to shut down. The creature's power was noticeably weakened. The
Guardian?Machine and the Other sensed it, pressed harder.

A whole quadrant of projection cells died before they could be shuttered
down. The Vom quivered in pain, sending huge waves crashing across nearby
islands, smashing through the brush and sweeping away small lives.

NOW (said the Guardian in a roar of triumph)

YES, NOW (came a quietly grim thought from the Other)

Hopelessly, desperately, the Vern fought back. Despite frantic repair and
isolated control, the infection continued to spread. But the Vom's
resources were immense. It was beginning to slow the disaster. It might yet
contain the threat, survive, hold, rebuild, counterattack. It might ...

A double?section of power?cells suddenly collapsed, unable to supply the
awesome demands on their substance. An edge, a point, a limit had been
reached and passed, and the Vent went over. Slowly, then with increasing
speed.

It was a new sensation for the Vom. Sections of self died around it. The
mind was partly but not wholly detached from the physical process, even as
it fought back. When it felt realization that finality was about to occur,
when death convulsions shook the ocean floor around it, it cried out a last
appeal.

STOP!: CONCESSION!: I ABJURE POWER!

(the Other did not reply. the Guardian?Machine did)

THAT IS NOT OF YOUR NATURE : THE UNIVERSE DEMANDS YOUR PASSING

(Guardian?Machine and Other struck again)

Perceptions took on strange colorings for the Vom. Another new sensation. A
last new sensation.

(a final observation. brilliant light boiling away consciousness as though
the soul water was)

(then.)

DISSEMINATION

(long?thoughts were space?scattered)

DISSOLUTION

The great organic capsule broke into a thousand pieces. A thousand?million.
And more.

(conclusion)

DISSIPATION

The trillion bits of no?vom broke down to the molecular level Then the
sub?molecular.

DEATH

(an empty conscious chaos lost the binding wire of thought. return to
nothingness)

DONE! (said the Guardian, half in wonder, half in contentment)

It sought out the Other, said simply ...

THANK YOU

NOT NECESSARY

(said the Guardian in reply ...)

YOU PLANNED THIS : YOUR CONCEALMENT : YOUR TIMING OF ALL : YOUR MOMENT OF
ENTRY : ALL PLANNED (statement of fact, not query)

YEA AND VERILY (then, curiously) WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW?

WHAT WOULD YOU SUPPOSE I WOULD DO?

(pause) I THINK YOU WILL DIE

THAT IS WHAT I SHALL DO: IT WILL TAKE A LITTLE TIME : ANY PART OF I?MACHINE
CAN BE SHUT DOWN RAPIDLY ENOUGH : TO SHUT DOWN THE MACHINE?I WILL TAKE A
LITTLE LONGER : I WILL SHOW YOU THINGS BEFORE THIS IS DONE

I THANK YOU FOR THAT AND THAT THANKS YOU CANNOT REJECT : I HAVE POWER : I
MUST ACQUIRE WISDOM

THERE IS MUCH WISDOM ALONE IN THAT THOUGHT: SO IT SHALL BE

YOU NEVER FEARED DEFEAT

I WAS NOT CONSTRUCTED TO BE SO INCLINED : NOT TRAINED TO : NOT A RACIAL
AFFECTATION : THE VOM'S FATE WAS INELUCTABLE



Mal set Kitten down gently, then dropped out of the tree to stand next to
her. She drew her hair behind her with one hand, used a small piece of
elastic plastic to bind the long wet strands. He was staring at her.

"Please, spare me the cracks about `drowned kittens,' will you?" she said.

"Don't worry," he replied, mopping at his face with a sleeve. He was
equally drenched: "I'm too tired. Damn lucky thing that first wave was as
small as it was. Some of those later ones could have piled us into the
rocks. Did you see anything?"

"Only a glimpse here and there. Mostly I was too busy holding onto that
branch."

"Quite a sight. One second it was thrashing around like a loose ship?drive,
smashing pecces and throwing up great gouts of water and sea?bottom. Then
it seemed to sort of shudder lightly. It just fell in on itself and
dissolved like black sugar." He removed a soggy boot, dumped a trickle of
water out of it.

She shrugged. "Funny. I'd kind of expected something a little more
spectacular after that build?up. I don't think it made a sound the whole
time we were watching it. A violent, quiet end to everything. I wonder if
we'll ever find out where it came from?" She was shaking water from the
bottom of her blouse.

"Almost everything," he said cryptically. He took a step closer and gently
placed a palm between her shoulders. She had just enough time for one
quick, startled look as he shoved hard sideways, at the same time sitting
down on a water?soaked but serviceable log. She folded neatly across his
knees.

Keeping his left arm firmly across the small of her back, he lifted his
right leg and hooked it over her left thigh. The resultant pose was
classic, if undignified.

Kitten made a firm, sudden shove upwards, frowned when no give was
forthcoming. Bracing her hands on the damp ground she pushed harder. She
might as well have been trying to push her way out of an armored hunting
cage.

"All right, Captain Hammurabi. My sense of humor is departing swiftly. If
you wouldn't mind letting me up...?"

"If you'll think back a moment," he went on easily, "you'll recall that
just prior to agreeing to make a certain jaunt with you to a certain
Enclave, with certain suicidal desires in mind, I made you a promise. You
may remember the substance ..." She struggled harder and much less
scientifically now.

"Striking an officer of the Church can be ruled a capital offense!"

"I'll take that chance, Lieutenant. But I keep my word and my promises.
It's good business practice. I'll risk a restraining term. This won't take
long. I suggest you strive to consider the philosophical aspects of the
situation. You're good at that."

The ship?captain's palm had the seeming consistency of solid duralloy. The
Lieutenant's often violent protests for the next several minutes of
measured activity were of a nature far removed from anything philosophical.



Mal sighed and looked over to where Kitten was leaning against a tree. He
made an adjustment on the small communit he'd salvaged from the ruins 6f
the waveskimmer. He'd modified it to throw off a long?range homing signal
on a widely used distress frequency. It would continue to cast for about an
hour before the powerful little battery would burn out.

"Will you sit down? I didn't hit you that hard." He smiled. That produced
several minutes of withering silence. "Suit yourself. You deserved it. It's
been said, Book III, Chapter 21, `Maturity is not a function of age.' If
you're bent on proving otherwise... "

Kitten looked down at her feet. She'd been scratching abstracts in the
still?damp island soil.

"It is possible" she began hesitantly, "that a certain small amount of that
... that 

"Eleemosynary chastisement," Mal offered.

"Whatever you choose to call it." She strolled over. "A certain amount may,
just may, have been justifiable."

"If I'd given you what you deserved," he said, "Id still be at it. But I
decided to be charitable. And besides, my arm was getting tired."

"I can imagine," said Kitten, smiling slightly. "This one, wasn't it?" She
touched his right shoulder.

He looked at her curiously?until she leaned forward and bit him good and
hard above the right bicep.

He tried gently to detach her. She wouldn't let loose. Hammurabi's
grandfather had spent his childhood in the slums of Bajallsa Fort, one of
Terra's greatest and dirtiest shuttleports. The teachings he'd passed on to
his grandson were effective and unconventional.

Mal leaned over and bit her back.

She broke away in surprise and shock, rubbing her injured shoulder.

"Damn you, Hammurabi! You're no gentleman!" She lunged at him, her right
arm coming around in a side chop. He caught it in one hand, did the same
when she tried to counter with the left. She tried to bring up a knee but
he spun her around and pinned her tightly against the tree.

"You're hardly a lady, Kai?sung."

She kissed him. After a moment's hesitation, and after she laughed at him,
he relaxed enough to kiss her back. But he didn't let go of her hands.

When Porsupah arrived with a harbor launch, his cogent evaluation of the
situation caused Kitten to chase him three times around the island. The
diminutive Tolian was still laughing as they pulled away from the reef?free
side.



On board two very different flagships, both commanders and many crewmen (or
crewnye) turned from a discussion of their sudden return of power to view a
tiny nova. It had appeared just around the planetary horizon. An omphalos
of thermonuclear fire, it outshone even Repler's sun for a few seconds
before dimming out. In its brilliance, the small flare on the planet's
surface went unnoticed.

Fully aware that a confession of impotence in the face of probable
bellicosity was not conducive to advancing one's career, both commanders
agreed to keep the whole incident as quiet as possible.



Both moons were down as Porsupah reeled along the docks that edged the
section of Repler City favored by visiting non?humanx.

His reflections were colorful if not clear. For such a small mammal, his
capacity for fermented spirits was remarkable enough to draw comment from
the uninitiated. He'd been granted a month's leave, local time, and was
concluding the third day of a spectacular drunk. It was unmilitary and
unChurchlike. But after hearing details, Ashvenarya himself had given the
three of them leave to commit anything short of murder, and maybe that too,
if they were discreet about it.

He gleefully recalled Chatham's face when the old miser had seen the crater
that had replaced his precious island. Their crazy alien ally had done
everything in an expansive way, including committing suicide. What a
fantastic succession of facial changes when Ashvenarya had authorized
complete rebuilding at Church expense!

Kitten and her hirsute merchant captain were off on some far island
committing things of their own. The Tolian was happy for both. Now, if only
one of his own kind and opposite sex were available to help him properly
enjoy a few mild indiscretions. What he wouldn't give for the sight of a
well?combed tail! He sighed, then frowned. His superlative sight was
supremely out of focus, but it reported enough to tell him he was among
unfamiliar buildings. He'd apparently wandered far from the entertainment
district and the full bars into a rundown section of ancient warehouses and
storage sheds that might have been built when Repler was first colonized.
Several bore condemned signs. One pathetically declared that a new
pleasure?pier was to be constructed here. The jungle began a little
distance away. He was on the far fringes of the city.

Well, fine! Hail the intrepid explorer! Now where were those damned
supplies? He took the small container of powerful liquid from his belt and
downed a sizable swallow. He, himself, would dedicate the new pier now and
beat all the pompous, arrogant, frog?faced politicians to the privilege! He
staggered towards the water, halted against a wooden wall when his balance
threatened to horizontalize him.

A tall figure strode out from between two long, boarded?up warehouses. The
face was hidden, but the rope?sbape coiled around one shoulder moved
slightly. Even in the dark and drunk, Porsupah couldn't mistake it. He
rubbed his eyes blearily, which only made things worse.

The figure halted at the edge of an ancient boat landing. It did something
to a concealed mechanism. Porsupah giggled, burped violently. Apparently he
went unnoticed.

A monstrous bulk heaved itself out of the sea close by the pilings. It
blotted out much of the night sky. A few lights shone from the cylindrical
nose. The faintest lavender iridescence was visible far far down the main
body, hundreds of meters long.

A brighter rectangle of light appeared in one side of the vessel. A small
platform floated out. It approached the pier, riding a barely audible basso
hum. The tall human stepped onto the platform, standing behind a huge hairy
alien Porsupah could not identify. The vehicle returned to the main ship
the way it had come, the square of light disappearing behind it.

Porsupah staggered away from the wall and stumbled back in the direction
he'd arrived from. Three days, wasya, three days! Long, enough to start
seeing things, hey? Want to fall out of a tree someday? KK?drive ships did
not come within a thousand kilometers of planetary surfaces. The direst
penalties would befall any who survived the cataclysm of their own making.

KK?drive super?battleships especially did not do this. They
double?especially did not make secretive stops to take on board single
apprentice sanitation engineers. No, no down with the booze, already,
schuzz?

Wait a minute! Down with booze? What blasphemy was this? Sacrilege! And
over a simple dream?dream?

The bell with it. Heading for brighter lights and a chaser, Porsupah broke
into an uneven but rousingly risque Tolian ballad.

Behind him, the great ship lifted silently toward the stars.



          *******************************************************

Note: Map of the Commonwealth and its Chronology Published in 05: Flinx in
Flux

          *******************************************************



ALAN DEAN FOSTER was born in New York City in 1946 and raised in Los
Angeles, California. After receiving a bachelor's degree in political
science and a master of fine arts degree in motion pictures from UCLA in
1968?69, he worked for two years as a public relations copywriter in Studio
City, California.



He sold his first short story to August Derleth at Arkham Collector
Magazine in 1968, and other sales of short fiction to other magazines
followed. His first try at a novel, The Tar?Aiym Krang, was published by
Ballantine Books in 1972. Since then, Foster has published many short
stories, novels, and film novelizations.



Foster has toured extensively around the world. Besides traveling, he
enjoys classical and rock music, old films, basketball, body surfing, and
weightlifting. He has taught screenwriting, literature, and film history at
UCLA and Los Angeles City College.



Currently he resides in Arizona.


