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Diana Santee 2: Gateway to Xanadu

By Sharon Green



CHAPTER 1

By the time the gentle chime sounded that was obviously supposed to wake me, I was already up and
dressed. I didn't have much in the room that needed putting together, and that was mostly done, too.
Which was definitely a good thing, since I didn't know how to turn that gently chiming- alarm off. It
must have been set by Val before he left, and waking up to find him already gone had surprised me. As
excited as I felt about going home, I wouldn't have believed it possible for someone to leave that room
without waking me. If I'd slept alone the night before, I probably wouldn't even have slept.

I stuffed my spare ship's suit into the small monolon bag, smoothed the bag closed, then turned to look
over the blue-green, brown and white room one last time. I didn't really expect to see anything I'd
accidently left behind, and I didn't; I hadn't shared the room long enough with Val. The last look around
was a good-bye to most of the strangeness I'd run into there in the Absari base around Tildor, a volume
of space no one in my Federation knew anything about. I'd bumped into the Absari Watchers of the
backward planet, Tildor, had helped out with a chore on the planet, and now was heading back to my
Federation with a "Hi, there, neighbor!" letter of self-introduction from the Absari upper echelon. If
everyone on the Federation Council didn't faint dead away at being contacted by a previously unknown,
star-faring humanoid race, their expressions would be worth seeing. At least two-thirds of the Council
considered the possibility of meeting equals an amusing fictional notion, something to have fun with
while watching it on tri-v, but nothing to take seriously. I couldn't wait until they got a look at Val.

Sudden inspiration hit me at thought of Val, so I went back to the low, wide couch-bed we'd shared the
night before, sat down on it, then stood up again. The chiming cut off immediately, bringing me a
satisfied grin. Absari ways weren't Federation ways no matter now much the Absari looked like us, but a
little common sense sometimes helped bridge the gap between alien cultures. That was something I'd
have to remember during the next standard year, the time period Val would be partnering with me as an
agent for the Federation. A little common sense-and a lot of delicate, judicious handling-and his talent
could be put to use for the benefit of Federation.

Or, at least, one of his talents. I sat back down on the couch-bed and stretched out across it, folding my
arms above my head and grinning. Val's ability to change his features and appearance to match anyone
he cared to was a result of his original Absari blood; I'd have to ask him if his bed talent came from the
same source. I'd miss it when his year was up and he went back home, but I'd be able to look around for
an adequate replacement once I came back to the Absari Confederacy to work my own year for them. If
that particular talent really was in the blood, `I'd have one hell of a wild time during that


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The chiming started again so abruptly that I jumped, and this time it wasn't as sweet and mellow as it
had been the first time. I'd never before heard an annoyed alarm clock, but I knew damned well I was
hearing one then. I muttered a few words describing the personal habits of that alarm as I rose from the
bed, then included Val in for setting the damn thing in the first place. My eagerness to get going had
gotten me up, but I could still feel the drag of minus sleep beneath that eagerness, gluing shut my eyelids
and making me yawn. I hadn't slept very well in the days I'd waited for the Absari rep Phalsyn to get
there, and during that time I'd kept Val on the opposite side of the room with the well-known cold
shoulder-and a sincere promise to break off any extremities of his that I happened to find in grabbing
distance. He'd grinned at the promise, and had told me he could wait-which he did until last night, when
he made up for the wait. I couldn't honestly describe the time as wasted, but I'd needed the lost sleep
more.

I yawned again and shook my head, then grabbed up the monolon bag and headed for the door. I'd get all
the sleep I wanted or needed once we were on our way, and what I really needed right then was a cup of
coffee. The door slid open in front of me, giving me access to the hall of the residential section, which
led to the work area, which in turn led to the docking facilities. I didn't know how really early it was in
the base day until I walked past the offices in the work area and found most off them empty, no more
than the usual skeleton crew in the comm room. The small sounds of the base's life-support systems
bracketed the whisper of my deck shoes along the corridor carpeting, and the two men in the comm
room didn't even look up as I passed. I wondered if the early departure time had been Phalsyn's idea, the
intent being to get rid of the alien and the guinea pig with the fewest number of people watching,
keeping the gossip to a minimum. The base people would know Val and I were gone, but they would not
know where, at least until the formal talks started, and maybe not even then. If you think about how long
it takes most people to accept even the new family a few doors down, the idea of keeping as much as
possible secret for as long as possible begins to look a lot less unreasonable.

The docking area seemed just as empty as the office area had been, until I spotted Dameron leaning
against the hull of my ship, right beside the access hatch. The big man had his arms folded across the
chest of his dark blue base commander's uniform, studying the floor in front of his feet, the same
preoccupied air holding him that had held him the night before. Not until I stopped in front of him did
his eyes rise to my face.

"You're here sooner than Valdon thought you would be," he said, his broad face showing a hint of a
smile. "He only just entered the ship himself."

"Probably to double-check the work he did on it," I said, giving more in the way of a smile than I was
getting. "I don't blame him for not wanting to find out if he screwed up the hard way. Why don't you
come aboard and get your final good-byes said while I start the departure check?"

"They've already been said," he answered with a sigh. "All I have left are yours, along with a request or
two. You don't mind a request or two from a friend, do you?"

His dark eyes were studying me in a very sober, worried way. Considering the fact that Dameron knew

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more about what my line of work entailed than anyone else there, his worry had to be on behalf of my
new partner.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear what those requests are before I agree to them," I said, putting my fist
on my hip. "I'm not as silly as some people, who commit themselves before they know what they're
committing themselves to."

"Don't rub it in!" he growled, looking annoyed, but then he grinned and laughed softly: He'd been so
eager to do me a favor that he hadn't first asked what favor I had in mind, a silliness he'd be regretting
for some time to come. When you make a habit of keeping your word, you really should take a good
look around before giving it.

"Okay, okay, so I deserve to have it rubbed in," he conceded, one broad hand ruefully rubbing the back
of his neck. "That doesn't mean I also deserve to be haunted by this thing for the rest of my life. I'd like
to know just how deep a pit I dug for Valdon-and how good his chances are of climbing out again all in
one piece. He's one of the best field agents I've ever had, but I don't know if he's good enough to survive
at the level you seem to operate on. I still don't understand how you survive."

"That's easy," I told him with a wave of my hand. "I have the worst luck you've ever seen, always
picking the wrong side to bet on. Any time I'm about to get a really hairy assignment, I make sure to bet
someone that I'll finally get it so I don't. Works every time."

I grinned, but the good commander wasn't in the mood for a laugh. The look in his dark eyes hardened
as he began straightening himself in annoyance, so I waved my hand at him again.

"Come on, Dameron, let's be intelligent about this," I coaxed, letting some of the tiredness I felt come
into my voice. "I worked a long time at my job to get good enough to qualify for hyper-A assignments;
you can't really believe they'll let Val share them just because he's giant size and has all those pretty
muscles. He'll have to earn the right to put his neck on the line just like the rest of us, and by then it will
probably be time for him to come home. Chances are you'll have less cause to worry about him than you
would if you sent him back down to Tildor."

"But-you two are supposed to be partners," he protested, still seeming upset. "If you get one of those
assignments then he'll get it, or at least he'll decide he has it. He won't sit back and let you do it all
yourself, and you're crazy if you think he will. "

"Are you under the impression that I don't know what he's like?" I asked, a bit belligerently. "Have you
forgotten all the time we spent together down on Tildor? When I want Val out of the way I'll have him
out of the way, whether it makes him happy or not. On Tildor he had all of the advantages, but in the
Federation we'll be on my stamping grounds. I'm even willing to bet on it."

"I thought you always backed the losing side," he retorted, but a shadow of his old humor was back,
along with a fading of some of the worry. "I don't feel as much confidence as you seem to, girl, but for

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some reason I also don't feel as bad as I did. You're sure your people won't let him have any of these-
hyper-A assignments?"

"Positive," I answered, grinning briefly at the way Dameron pronounced 'hyper-A'. We were speaking
his base language, and there was no one-to-one translation for the phrase. "Hyper-A is short for 'high
percentage risk agent,' a nickname for Special Agents. It means that if the computers rate the
possibilities of success on an assignment at 9 percent or more against, that assignment is given only to a
hyper-A. We're the ones who have already proven we can survive against odds like that by doing it, and
the doing takes some doing. Val won't have the necessary time-or the opportunity. For the most part I
plan to use him as a distraction while I do the actual work, either with his talent in full play or just as he
is. A little less masculinity to his face, and he'd be downright pretty, and I can think of a lot of ways to
use something like that. I wonder if he could change himself to directions. "

"You've lost your mind, girl," Dameron interrupted my ranging thoughts, hauling me back to where we
were standing. He was looking straight at me, and his expression couldn't be interpreted as anything but
ridiculing. "I thought you said you knew Valdon," he demanded. "If you think he'll stand still for being a
flower boy in the background while you run around drawing fire from the enemy, you're out of your
mind! What do you think he is?"

"I thought he was the one you were so worried about," I retorted, staring at the base commander. "Have
you suddenly changed your mind, or am I going senile in my old age? I thought you wanted him out of
the line of fire-or haven't you decided yet what you want?"

"I do know what I want," he muttered. "But what I want isn't necessarily what he'll want. Or what either
of us would consider acceptable. Maybe I don't know what I want after all." He pulled his hand through
his hair with a harried gesture, then turned to me. "What exactly do you think of Valdon?"

"What's to think about him?" I asked with a shrug,-privately wondering if Dameron had started to lose
the marble game. "He's big, good-looking, has a talent I intend making use of- Hell, Dameron, I barely
know him. The only things we've really done together so far are argue and fight. I'll be able to do a
better job of giving an opinion if we ever manage to exchange more than a dozen words before the fur
starts flying. "

"But you've still let him bed you," the Commander pointed out, a flatness in the words. "That doesn't
jibe with the lack of opinion you claim to have. Or not have. Do you make a habit of spending bed time
with men you scarcely know?"

"Usually," I answered with a slow nod, now almost convinced the leash was slipping. "How many men
do you think I get to know well in my line of work? And what difference can a little sex make? Just
because a man's good in bed doesn't mean you'd trust your back to him. Sex is nothing more than an
exercise for two-or three, or five, or however your tastes run. Haven't you learned that yet?"

"That particular outlook doesn't necessarily come about through mature experience," he said, a

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gentleness and something that seemed to be pain looking out of his eyes. "Some people are raised to
consider it a good deal more than casual exercise, more than something to be indulged in even between
virtual strangers. If you ever get to the point of gaining true mature experience, you might learn that."

"Do you mean I'll learn that some men consider a roll in the hay the equivalent of a life commitment?" I
asked, letting most of the friendliness drain out of my tone. "I've already learned that, friend, and also
learned to stay away from that sort. The only thing I'm interested in commiting to is what I've already
committed to, and there's no room in that sort of life for distractions. The-`level I operate on' makes
other commitments impractical, especially long-term ones. My body has certain needs, and I see to them
whenever I like the looks of available partners; if you're thinking about telling me that Val has kept
himself pure waiting for his one true lady love, you have a shock coming. No man ever got to his level
of expertise by abstaining, and please note that we're not discussing opinion. I've had to acquire a certain
level of expertise myself to satisfy certain of my job requirements, and I can assure you that I know what
I'm talking about."

"I don't doubt that," he answered, amused now. "And I didn't mean to imply that Valdon was a sheltered
innocent. The reactions of the field team girls he paired with made that clear enough."

"Then what were you implying?" I asked, genuinely curious. If there was a point to the conversation I'd
been a part of for the last few minutes, it would have been nice knowing what it was.

"What makes you think I was implying anything?" he countered, more amused, calmly folding his arms
again. "I just happened to be taking the opportunity to voice a couple of my own opinions. I didn't say
they had anything to do with Valdon. You'll see to it, then, that your people don't let him get in over his
head?"

"Cross my heart and hope to spit wooden nickels," I promised, holding up my free hand. "Was that all
you were looking for, a promise to protect your delicate little former second, and a true, unvarnished
declaration on my philosophy of life'? No sworn blood oaths that I return him as sweet and untarnished
as I'm getting him?"

"Your penchant for sarcasm must find you almost as much trouble as your line of work," Dameron
remarked, looking down at me with seeming annoyance, and then the twinkle came back. "No, I don't
need an oath like that from you about Valdon; I already have one from Valdon about you. Some of us
still believe in the basic premise that women are there to be looked after and protected."

I stared at him in a disbelieving way for a minute, then burst out laughing. His dark brows lowered over
his eyes in a frown that showed lack of understanding, causing me to laugh even harder, then shake my
head at him.

"That's a hell of a sentiment to be coming from the man who deliberately set me up to be attacked by
sword-swinging baddies," I pointed out when I could, still chuckling. "Not to mention the enslavement
part. Are you sure you're not talking about Val this time?"

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"Maybe I am," he agreed very quietly, with a small, sad smile, his dark eyes now unreadable. I cursed
myself for an idiot and for having such a big mouth, but, the damage was already done. I'd been well-
enough aware. of the guilt Dameron had felt over what had happened to me down on Tildor, but I'd
thought he'd managed to put it behind him. Telling him I didn't blame him would probably only have
made it worse, but I was about to try exactly that when he threw off the dark mood and straightened
again.

"At any rate," he said as if there had been no interruption, "Valdon has those papers Phalsyn told you
about, and the two of you can convert the time measurement in them to something your people will
understand. As a final request I'm going to ask you to try to stay out of trouble and to take care of
yourself, but I have a feeling that's one request you won't grant. "

"I always take care of myself," I answered, still bothered by the way I had hurt him. "There's rarely
anyone else around to do the job for me. As for staying out of trouble, most of the people I know
consider the accomplishment in the same category as avoiding death and taxes. Dameron. . . ."

"Don't worry, girl, I'll get it worked out after I see you safely on your way back home," he assured me
with a faint smile. "I'll just remind myself that whatever trouble you find with Valdon you asked for,
freely and without any pressure from me. You'd better get aboard now, so I can start evacuating the air
from this dock. "

"Wait a minute!" I protested as he took my arm to head me toward the airlock. "What are you talking
about? What trouble with Val? I don't plan on having any trouble with Val. "

"Then maybe you won't have any," Dameron said with a shrug, his hand moving me right in front of the
airlock before leaving my arm. "If you're a good girl and behave yourself with him, Valdon certainly
won't start any trouble. Have a good trip home, girl, and be sure to stop by if you're ever in this
neighborhood again."

He patted my shoulder a couple of times before he turned and headed for the dock exit, ignoring the
"Hey!" I sent after him as though I hadn't uttered a sound. I hefted the monolon bag I still carried,
momentarily tempted to drop it and go after him, then said to hell with it and turned back to the airlock. I
didn't know what game he was playing, but calling him on it wouldn't have accomplished anything. It
was a safe bet even he didn't know what he was talking about, and I had better things to do with my time
than waste it trying to find sense where there wasn't any.

Once I had stalked past the double open doors of the lock and hit the switch that closed them, I made my
way deeper into the small ship. The two cabins, salon area, shower and exercise area, and galley were all
ranged together after the airlock and before the control room, so I stopped briefly to toss my monolon
bag into my cabin before continuing on to the pilot's console. I also stopped in the galley to fill a mug
with coffee, but obviously made too little noise performing those chores. Val was moving around in the
second cabin, probably stowing whatever he'd brought with him, and didn't even stick his nose out to see

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who had come in. I shrugged a little over such blind trust, still too annoyed with Dameron to be
interested in making small talk with Val, and carried my coffee into the control room.

The departure check I started the computer on was longer and more detailed than your average departure
check, but I wanted to be sure that everything really was on the green before I kicked off into the deep
black. Dameron and Val seemed to be talented in the repairs department, but they still had been working
on an alien ship with no more than alien wiring diagrams and inspired guesswork to guide them. An all-
systems check is boring only when your life doesn't hinge on that check, and even so it doesn't take
forever. I was just finishing up when the wide metal doors of the dock slid invitingly open, showing that
Dameron had evacuated the air from the dock, giving me access to the departure tunnels. My course
computer clicked contentedly as it waited with infinite patience to be meshed into the drive unit; every
light on my board blinked green, and sets of parallel blue lines lit up along the dock wall and extended
out into the departure tunnels. I raised the ship on secondary breaking jets, nudged us toward the open
door, then followed the pretty blue lines until it was time to leave them and the tunnels behind. Tildor
showed briefly in my screens, barely noticed in the midst of the departure question-and-answer routine I
was involved in with the computer, and then it was a good distance behind us, its moons no longer even
visible. I stayed at the board until the entire solar system was behind us, then got out of the pilot's chair
to stretch. Everything from then on until destination-barring emergencies-was automatic, and I was free
to play passenger.

I dropped off my empty mug in the galley on my way to the salon, plopped down on the nearer of the
two couches, put my feet up as I lay back, then closed my eyes. Although it hadn't seemed like it while it
was happening, the departure from Dameron's moon base had taken better than three hours, including
the time it took to clear the solar system. Under normal circumstances everything after rising from the
surface of the moon would have been handled by the computer, leaving me free to watch, worry, or even
walk away, but I'd had a private project that needed programming, that had to be done then or not at all.
I'd gone through a lot waiting for Dameron to program my course computer, and even with Phalsyn's
papers handed over for delivery, I still hadn't been allowed to watch the course and quadrant data being
fed in. To say I'd been annoyed would be to say the sayer didn't know me; I usually prefer getting even
to getting mad. I'd asked the main computer to rig up a double-check tape run on its less intelligent
cousin the course computer, and had waited and watched to see if the run did what I wanted it to. We
were just at the fringes of Tildor's system when the double check clicked in, running a ninety-second-lag
playback of where we'd just been. I couldn't copy the set-in course without purging the entire program,
but there was nothing to keep me from recording where I'd been-up to and including the time of my
arrival at destination. All I'd have to do at that point would be to reverse the run tape, and the
breadcrumb trail leading back to Dameron's base would be in my hot little hand. I might never need it,
but it never hurts to hedge your

"All finished with starting us on our way?" a voice asked abruptly, startling me half up off the couch
before I realized it was Val, speaking the Federation Basic he'd been given, most likely for practice. I
wasn't used to having company on that ship, and settling back into old habits had nearly given me heart
failure at the first of his words.



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"Don't do that," I grumbled at him where he stood by the second couch, about five feet away, then sank
back down to sitting on my own couch. "Just until I get used to having someone else aboard, I'd
appreciate it if you stomped or sang or in some other manner made your presence known before you
came into a room where I was. If you don't, I'm not going to last very long."

"From the way you came up off that couch, I don't think you're the one we have to worry about," Val
came back, his voice dry, his deep black eyes looking down at me where I sat. "You would have ended
up facing away from me if you hadn't stopped yourself, and I have a feeling that would have been only
part of the move. What comes after that?"

"Oh, just a little screaming, a little jumping, nothing very special," I answered with a gesture of
dismissal, smiling some to distract him. Telling him he'd almost been the proud possessor of a reverse
crescent kick followed by a roundhouse kick, both to the face and head, would have probably started
another argument; Val had already run into a couple of my offensive techniques, and hadn't liked them
much.

"Nothing but a couple of mild surprise reactions, is that it?" he asked, ignoring my smile as he settled
himself on the neighboring couch, stretching his big body out in a relaxed sprawl. "Are you sure that's
all it was?"

"What else could it have been?" I asked with mildly curious and very innocent reason, at the same time
wondering if he could have found out about the double-check run. "It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm
afraid I forgot you were here. "

I showed my embarrassment in my smile, but he still wasn't paying any attention to it. His dark black
eyes continued to stare at me out of an expressionless face under dark black hair, and he didn't seem to
be as relaxed as his sprawl might suggest. He was still wearing his cobalt blue base uniform, but that
wasn't a likely reason for what seemed like discomfort.

"Are you sure you forgot I was here?" he asked very quietly, keeping those eyes on me. "Are you sure it
wasn't more a matter of remembering all too well? Didn't you see that I took the other cabin?"

"I don't understand," I told him. "Why would I say I forgot when I remembered? And what has cabins
got to do with, anything?"

"I'm trying to tell you that you don't have to worry about my being here," he said very gently. "Whatever
happened between us at the base doesn't have to happen here, not if you don't want it to. Our being alone
together doesn't mean you have to think about defending yourself from me. I won't be doing anything
that needs to be defended against."

He was still staring at me, but now there was a very definite expression on his face: a sincere entreaty for
belief and trust. To say I was stunned would be putting it mildly; Val thought I was afraid to be alone
with him!

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I leaned back against my own couch still more wide-eyed and open-mouthed than I'd been in a long
time, but the reason for what he'd just said wasn't hard to figure out. Val was a man in whom the ancient
male hunter could be seen by any woman he turned those eyes on, the sort of man who traditionally took
whatever he wanted, most especially the use of females. Women in ancient times feared men like that,
but they were also used to them; whole cities were pillaged, and rape was a natural concomitant. Modern
times brought about the advent of civilization, and women weren't expected to put up with that sort of
nonsense any longer-but every once in a while a hunter turned up anyway. Val had been raised to be
considerate of the feelings of women, to understand how fragile and helpless they were, but the hunter
still looked out of his eyes. He'd been taught to feel like hell---' every time a woman cringed back from
his appraisal, and he'd learned to make very sure of full agreement before letting his basic nature take
over. He bent over backwards to reassure the females around him, most especially at the first sign of
nervousness at his presence. I didn't know if he'd been brooding over the point since he first came
aboard, or if my aborted attack in self-defense had triggered the thought, but most likely a combination
of the two had produced the statement of intended chastity. That he hadn't learned to know me better
over the last few days was annoying, but not nearly as annoying as being lumped in the "fragile,
helpless" category. I'd thought I'd taught Val the hard way just how well I liked gentlemanly
condescension, but it was clear the lesson hadn't taken. It looked like it was time for another lesson.

"You really understand the way a girl feels, don't you?" I said at last feigning relieved gratitude. "I can't
say how much better I feel now, to know that we'll be occupying separate cabins. You're an absolute
doll, Val."

I beamed at him as I stood up from the couch, pretending not to see the way he flinched at my complete
agreement with his offer. We had a decently long trip ahead of us, and hunters don't make very
successful eagle scouts. Still beaming, I kicked off the deck shoes I was wearing, then opened my ship
suit and started to wriggle out of it. Those black eyes were on me instantly, sliding over every curve I
had, the look in them saying they still liked what they saw, and then memory returned of what had been
committed to. If it hadn't been so far from his nature, I think Val would have started blubbering then; the
muscles tensed all over his body, his face went expressionless, and swallowing turned his voice hoarse.

"What are you doing?" he demanded as he looked up at me. "I don't understand what you're- Diana,
you're taking your clothes off."

"Sure," I agreed with a smilingly innocent nod, tossing the ship's suit in the general direction of my
cabin. "It's so warm in here you don't really need clothes, but I couldn't take them off until you said what
you did. I never wore anything on the trip out."

Which, although calculated, was nothing but the complete truth, except for the stated reason. I wore
nothing of clothing on the trip out because I was born and raised on one of the only two nudist worlds in
the Federation, and I revert to going natural every time I can. Val's face had taken on an appalled,
desperate look, as though he were trying to imagine living with a naked woman for two months without
touching her, but I made sure not to notice that look either. I turned away from him and headed for the

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galley, humming happily in a soft voice.

"It's going to be great having someone to talk to," I enthused over my shoulder as I stopped in front of
the food synthesizer to refill the mug I'd left there earlier with coffee. "I enjoy my own company well
enough, but there's such a thing as too much of that sort of enjoyment. How about a cup of coffee?"

Without waiting for an answer I filled a second mug, then carried them both back to the salon area. Val
was still sitting, on his couch, one big hand rubbing at his face, a harried expression in his eyes. He
waited until I'd put the mug into the slot meant for it in the front of the couch's armrest, shifted a little on
the couch, then cleared his throat.

"Diana, you're not being fair," he said, no more than a trace of the hoarseness left in his voice. "I'm
trying to be considerate of you, but you're not doing the same for me. I promised I'd do nothing to make
you feel it necessary to defend yourself, but I wasn't picturing you walking around like that. You have to
put your clothes back on."

"Why?" I asked, sipping gingerly at the hot coffee. "It isn't as if you've never seen me naked before, Val.
You've seen me naked lots of times."

"I know I have," he answered through his teeth. "I know I've seen you naked lots of times, but that was
when I could- Never mind. Just get into your clothes."

"I've got a better idea," I said with sudden inspiration, laughing in delight and nearly clapping my hands.
"Instead of me getting back into clothes, why don't you get out of yours? Then we'll both be naked, and
you won't be bothered anymore. Come on, Val, do it!"

I was still enthusiastic as I went to my couch to put my coffee down, and by the time I turned back to
him, Val was on his feet. Looking at him, it wasn't hard guessing why he'd stayed seated so long; I was
considered big for a woman, but Val was big for a man. You couldn't quite make two of me out of him,
but if you tried you wouldn't be short by all that much. He'd known exactly how menacing he'd look to
the poor little female if he was upright, but at that point he was beyond considerations of that sort. He
couldn't possibly accept what I'd just suggested, not and keep his sanity along with his word; he had to
start being firm, and - those black eyes said he was more than ready.

"Stop dancing around like that!" he growled, coming toward me where I stood between the two couches.
"You're acting as if you want to be attacked, and I'm just about ready to oblige you! Get back into those
clothes, or I'll . . ."

At that point he made the mistake of reaching for my left arm with his right hand, just as I knew he
would. He'd done the same thing once before, reaching out to grab me in anger, but that lesson hadn't
stayed with him any more than the other one had. As his hand closed around my arm just above a wrist I
stepped toward him instead of away, turned my hand palm upward, and moved even closer. I slipped my
left hand out of the forced looseness of his grip, continued to turn his hand to the left with the added

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assistance of the back of my left hand fingers pushing against the trapped fingers of his right hand, and
simultaneously stepped back and twisted around. With a squawk of astonishment and some small
amount of pain, the great big dangerous hunter went down flat on his back, totally helpless. Before Val
knew what was happening, he had hit the carpeted deck hard, and lay there with my bare heel on his
throat.

"Or you'll what?" I asked very mildly, looking down at him where he twisted a little in an attempt to
ease the pressure on his arm and shoulder, his expression totally disbelieving. "The last time it was
partially Bellna, but this time it's all me, which should explain why you're not hurting as much as you
did then. If I shift my weight onto my heel you're a goner, friend, or I could simply kick you hard
enough in the side of the head to put your lights out for a while. As I said earlier, I forgot you were here;
that doesn't equate with deliberately forgetting out of desperate fear of you. If you're smart, you'll start
considering being afraid of me. Despite many opinions to the contrary, it is possible to rape a man, and I
know how. And I haven't given my word not to."

I turned him loose then, taking my heel away from his throat so that I could step over him on the way to
my couch. I sat down and got a cigarette out of the couch-arm dispenser and lit up, then picked up my
coffee mug to sip at it, only then noticing that Val was still on the deck. When he saw my eyes on him
he sat up slowly, rubbing at his right arm with his left hand, a strange expression in his deep black eyes.

"I don't think I've ever been told a woman wasn't afraid:. of me with quite that much conviction before,"
he muttered, raising his knees so that he could hang his forearms on there. "I assume I'm to take it that if
I do something you don't like, you'll let me know about it. Do you think you can catch me with that sort
of thing more than once?"

"There's a lot more where that came from," I snorted. He seemed to be relieved that I wasn't afraid of
him after all, but he hadn't liked being roughed up in the proving of it. My previous good intentions were
down the drain, but I'd had to settle the question of fear the most direct way possible. Some men turn
protective around women who are afraid of things, and Val and I were slated to work together. If he did
his job slap-dash because he was worrying about me, it could get us both killed.

"What happens if I do manage to get the upper hand?" he pursued, perversely trying to dent the lack of
fear he had been so relieved to see. "Once I have you in a position where you can't do me any harm,
what's to stop me from doing anything I like to you?"

"Nothing," I admitted calmly, exhaling smoke at him.

"You're bigger than I am, stronger than I am, and you just might manage to take me before I could finish
you off. But if you did, you'd have something of a problem. You would not be able to let me go
afterward, because if I ever got free I'd have your heart-and a couple or three other things to keep it
company. To avoid that you'd have to finish me, and then you'd find yourself all dressed up with no
place to go. At the other end of the course tape is my Federation, a volume of space you don't know your
way around in. Assuming you have the proper coordinates you can always turn around and head back to

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Absari space, but once you got there your people would start asking about that conference they're
expecting to have with my people. No matter which way you turned you'd have problems, and all
because of your resentment against my harmless little demonstration. If that's the way you want it, go
ahead and take your best shot."

"Harmless little demonstration," he snorted. "If that was a harmless little demonstration, I'm a-" He
broke it off and stared at me for a long minute, then snorted again with something more like amusement.
"You think you have it all figured out. What would happen if I did take you-and afterward you
discovered you liked it? Instead of coming after me, you'd end up begging not to be turned loose."

"If you were curious to know how likely that would be, you should have checked with the Tildorani
slavers before we left," I said, giving him a grin with a lot of wolf in it. "After I lost my patience with
them, they couldn't hand me over to Clero fast enough. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not very good
slave material. "

"That you definitely are not," he agreed with sudden pleasance, picking himself up off the deck to
stretch. "And now that we have that settled, you have a choice to make, too." He stepped over my legs to
sit down next to me on the couch, then looked down at me. "You can either get back into your clothes,
or start showing me how much you know about raping a man. I can tell you right now that if you don't
do one or the other, I won't be responsible for what happens. I've- discovered that looking at you does
something strange to my normal restraint, which was the reason I started this in the first place. In a
situation like this, with only the two of us here and a lot of empty time ahead of us, it's best if we both
know where we stand."

"I don't think I understand you at all," I said with a good deal of confusion and total honesty. "How
could you not know where we stand after all the time we spent together? We weren't playing cards or
swapping jokes during that time, Val. Why would things be any different now?"

"We were in the middle of the base with a lot of other people around us then," he answered gently as he
smoothed my hair with one big hand. "It so happens I was in this general situation once before, sharing a
bed with a woman among other people, then suddenly being alone with her in a place where no one
could interrupt us and neither of us could walk away. The first time I put my hand on her shoulder, she
had hysterics. "

My first reaction was to tell him he was making that up, but one look at the flinching vexation in his
eyes told me he wasn't. You hear a lot about women's traumatic experiences; it looked like some men
got raked over the coals just as badly.

"She must have been a neurotic," I decided aloud, pretending I hadn't noticed the way he'd sighed. "I've
never heard of anything that mindless."

"it wasn't mindless, and she wasn't neurotic," he denied, a faint smile curving his lips as he looked down
at me. "She was a seasoned fighter from one of the field teams, and hadn't gotten particularly upset even

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the times she'd been wounded. When I finally got her calmed down, she was terribly embarrassed and
insisted on explaining why she had done as she had. It seems that I had the same appeal for her that her
job did, lots of excitement, lots of adventure-and lots of danger. Being in the base had been like being
part of her team, the mere fact of their proximity enough to keep the danger from becoming
overwhelming. Once we were alone, though- All she could think about was how `big' and `dangerous' I
was, how I might do anything I cared to to her, and the really horrifying possibility that she might come
to like that anything. She'd seen fully trained female slaves on Tildor, you see, and had been just as
fascinated as she'd been repelled. Those slaves served their men's every want and whim, and loved doing
it. She was afraid she would love doing it, and that I would make her love it. She found it totally
impossible to stop trembling."

"Neurotic," I repeated firmly to those very black eyes watching me. "So that was the reason behind all
those strange suggestions of yours; you wanted to get the possibilities said and considered before I
thought of them on my own. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, friend, but it's just as I mentioned earlier:
as far as slavery goes, I've tried it more than once and still don't like it. Do you think you might stop
watching for the screaming and fainting now?"

"I stopped watching for that about ten minutes ago," he said with a stronger grin, letting his eyes move
briefly over me. "You may not be terribly impressed with my size and abilities, Diana, but you're the
only woman I ever met who wasn't. Do you understand now why I'd like to hear from you about where
we stand?"

"Yes, I can understand it now," I agreed judiciously. "I'll be glad to give you a statement concerning my
views." I took a final sip of my coffee before returning it to its slot, then lifted both legs and swung them
across Val's lap. "As I see it," I told him, "I've been promised that nothing would be done to me that
would cause me to want to defend myself. I was told that by someone who tends to keep his word, you
see, which turns out to be a very good thing. Even with the master matter converter, disposing of bodies
in a ship like this tends to be hard work, and I'm not in the mood for hard work. "

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked, and again I was struck by the difference between the softness
of his words and the look in his eyes. His big hand had raised to my hip, and now stroked slowly down
my thigh and leg.

"Truthfully, the thing I could use most right now is a few hours of sleep," I answered, tucking my hands
behind my head. "How's that for an idea?"

"Lousy," he said with that faint grin back again, both of his hands going to my waist to pull me more
completely into his lap. "I have a much better idea."

His hands moved over me as his lips lowered to mine, and it didn't take very long before I had a better
idea, too.




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CHAPTER 2

When Val and I woke up after indulging in his better idea, he brought out a pair of tight-fitting but
flexible, cobalt blue exercise shorts, I guess you could call them-and then joined me in some muscle-
loosening exercise of the nonhorizontal variety. After that the shower washed our sweat away; the air
blowers dried the shower water; and then I dialed us a couple of synthsteak sandwiches and mugs of
coffee, to take care of the hollows within. My ship guest wasn't very happy with the food, which
naturally led him into looking for something to complain about.

The something turned out to be the way I'd roughed him up. Accusations started flying back and forth;
our words went from heated to out-and-out inflamed, and before I knew it I was being challenged to see
how well l could take something of the same sort. Having no idea of what he was talking about I
immediately accepted the challenge-and only then found out what a really stupid move that was.

From the very first time Val touched me, back in the base, I'd discovered that there didn't seem to be any
way of resisting him once his hands were on me. Now, Val marched me into the salon, sat down on one
of the couches and pulled me into his lap, went to work on me in his usual way, and then, when I was
just about out of my mind, moved me out of-his lap to sit on the deck carpeting next to his leg with
orders not to move.

It took quite a few suffering, mindless minutes before I could think clearly again, and another few
minutes after that before I began to understand. At first none of it made sense, but then it suddenly came
to me that Val was specifically doing to me what I had done to him. I was as helpless before his
expertise as he had been before mine, and rage and suffer though I might, there was nothing I could do
to even the score. I'd pledged myself to do nothing in response to whatever he did to me, just as he had
obviously pledged himself never to use his full strength against a woman. It was a terrible, confining
feeling, a screaming that demanded satisfaction. My hands clutched his leg and my body pressed to it in
dry-throated need, but I did understand what was happening.

Or, at least I thought I understood. No more than another few minutes went by before the screaming and
snarling began growing higher inside me, stretching out of all proportion to what had been and was
being done to me. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep it from rising even more, but it was simply no use.
My usual iron-bound self-control refused to cope with the problem, and I was left with a mad that made
me more and more willing to strike out at anyone handy. In desperation to keep something ugly from
happening I jumped to my feet and raced into my cabin, but Val followed me in almost immediately,
bringing along the problem I'd been trying to avoid.

"Diana, are you all right?" he demanded, his voice sounding upset. "What happened? Why did you run
like that?"

"You might say it was a call of nature," I told him, standing with one hand against the far wall of the,
cabin, the other over my eyes. I didn't want to admit it was my own lousy nature that had called, the

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temper I knew I couldn't afford to lose. "If you'll give me a minute, I'll be right back with you."

"Don't be an idiot," he snorted, and then he was standing there next to me, pulling me into his arms and
up against him. My hand came away from my eyes as I stiffened involuntarily, but I didn't realize just
how I'd stiffened until I saw the look on his face.

"Just calm down, little girl," he said in a soothing way, his arms around me more supportive and
comforting than intimate. "Remember me? I'm the one you don't have to defend yourself against, so just
let those muscles relax. I'm not going to hurt you, Diana, so just take it easy."

I looked down at the way I was standing, at the double knife-hand my fingers had stiffened to, and
couldn't believe I'd actually slipped that far from control. That was when I really understood what Val
had been trying to tell me, the message that said the sort of anger I'd bred in him got worse with the
passage of time, not better. I hadn't been justified in knocking him around, and it was time I admitted it.

"I'm-not doing very well with that agreement we made," I got out, looking up at him with self-disgust
and annoyance. "In case you were wondering, you made your point. I guess I'm just not built to take it as
well as you did. I think I'm going to need more than that minute before we start again."

"You don't have to worry, we won't be starting again," he said, suddenly sounding odd. "You look like
you're coming face to face with an uncomfortable truth, Diana, but it's nothing you have to be upset
about. If you're having second thoughts about the wisdom in choosing me as a partner, you don't have to
worry about hurting my feelings. It would hardly be the first time I was told something like that."

His voice had grown very gentle and the look in his eyes was hooded. Val had totally misinterpreted
everything that had happened, and was braced to take the bad news like a trooper, leading me to wonder
fleetingly just how many times he'd had to take that news. The prejudice of the unwashed herd had
obviously brought him a lot of hell, and I felt a twinge inside me that was stronger than sympathy. If I
tried telling him that / was the problem, not him, he'd never believe me.

Silently I beckoned to him to follow me, then led the way out of my cabin and back into the salon. When
we reached a low, squarish utility table next to one wall, I held up my hand at Val, then continued on
into the galley alone. It took no more than a minute to get what I was after, and when I came out Val was
frowning in confusion. He watched me step up on the utility table, which put my head an inch or so
above his, then stood there in speechless shock as I emptied the large plastic container of water I had
gotten, right over his head. Once the last drop had been emptied I tossed the container away, then put my
fists on my hips.

"I'm not having second thoughts about anything," I told him, watching calmly as his big hand wiped the
water out of his eyes and pushed his sopping hair back. "How about you?"

He looked at me with thunder and lightning blazing in those eyes for about five seconds, and then a grin
broke through.

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"No, no second thoughts," he said, tossing a lock of wet hair back out of his eyes. "How could I have
second thoughts when I haven't even come to terms with my first thoughts yet? I can see I'm never going
to know what to expect from you, Diana, but maybe we can narrow the field a little."

I didn't know what he was talking about, and I didn't realize I was about to find out. One minute that grin
was right in front of me, and the next I was off the table, turned around, and held about the waist by one
of those should-be illegal arms. Five or six hard, fast smacks were delivered to my bare bottom, and then
I was set back on my feet on the deck carpeting.

"First you use words alone, and then, if that doesn't work, you try something else," he lectured with one
finger pointing at me while I stood in outraged speechlessness with my hands rubbing behind me. "The
next time I have to tell you that, you'll spend some time standing up."

I was so mad I couldn't say a word, but having a chat wasn't what I wanted to do with him. I actually
took one step toward him before I had control of myself again, and then I turned and stalked away to my
cabin, slamming the heavy but well-balanced door behind me. The nerve of that jerk! Go ahead and try
to help someone, and see what you get for it! I stalked back and forth across the tiny cabin, trying to
calm down, but it took quite a while before I made it. No one but a backwoods hick of a second from a
backwoods outpost would be stupid enough to spank a Special Agent, but that was the second time that
jerk had tried it. The first time had cost him a lot of blood, but he didn't seem to learn from anything that
happened to him! It was fairly clear I should have taken someone else in his place after all, but it was too
late for that now. I'd just have to teach some manners to what I had, over and over again, if necessary,
until the lesson stuck with him. I sat down on my bunk and drew my knees up for my chin to rest on,
then began making a mental list of possible lessons.

I let a few hours go by before I left the cabin again, and when I did I made it very clear that Val had
turned invisible. He was sitting on a couch reading a slim, leather-bound book when I passed him, and I
paid no attention to the way he followed me with his eyes and a grin. I went into the control room and
ran a quick systems and course check, made sure my double-check tape run was progressing properly,
then went to the galley. A synthburger and coffee were enough to take care of what little appetite I had,
and these I carried back to my cabin with me, slamming the door again behind me. When I'd come out of
the galley with my food Val had been back on his couch, but it was obvious he'd left it briefly by the
presence of the blanket he was wrapped in. He made sure to begin shivering violently as I passed, but he
hadn't done anything about that stupid grin. I swallowed my meal with my nose stuffed into a book of
my own, read for a short while after that, then declared official ship's night.

When I woke up I discovered it was past nine hundred hours Arbitrary Ship Time, but that didn't mean
much. I'd started the night early when I'd gone to bed, and there wasn't anything on the ship that called
for crack-of-dawn rising. I stretched hard and then lay still for a minute, grinning when I remembered
the very discreet push against my cabin door the night before. I'd been lying in the dark for a while,
waiting to fall asleep, when I'd heard the faint creak of the door in its frame. It had been trying to swing
obligingly inward, but the lock I'd flipped on had kept it from doing so. I'd been wondering whether Val

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would try to catch me asleep and vulnerable, and now I knew; gentlemanly conduct goes by the boards
when you've been heated up and not been given a chance to cool down. I'd had some of the same trouble
myself the night before, but it was worth it if Val had suffered more.

I got up and visited the bathroom, got a cup of coffee and ran the routine control room checks, then went
to start my morning loosening up. That was when Val showed up, looking well rested and fresh from the
shower. His cobalt blue exercise shorts looked fresh and clean too, as though he'd been using the
launderer. I still didn't need the launderer, and Val's eyes showed he was well aware of that as he sat
down on a corner stool to watch me. As I've mentioned I'm considered big for a woman, but I'm also
nicely well-endowed. The Absari clinicians didn't have to touch my body when they'd matched me to
Bellna, the Tildorian princess I'd decoyed for; that body went very well with the outstandingly beautiful
face I'd been given to play the part of Bellna, the face that was now mine as well as hers. I still wasn't
used to being a redhead, but Val didn't seem to miss my original brown hair and eyes. He watched
closely as I twisted, bent, stretched and jumped, saying not a single word, but as the saying goes, his
eyes spoke volumes.

When I finished the exercising, I went for a shower. I hadn't skimped on anything I needed to keep up
decent muscle tone, but I'd intended running through a couple of the stricter forms designed to keep your
fighting muscles well oiled and then had changed my mind. To deny that Val's stare had gotten to me
would be a waste of time; if he hadn't been there, I would have done those forms. I slapped the water-
flow switch with more strength than was strictly necessary, absolutely disgusted with myself. So what if
his stare was pure evaluation, the owner of a breeding ranch looking over his bloodstock, or a hungry
carnivore considering the taste of the prey he was about to pounce on? Was I a placid broodmare or a
cute little bunnyrabbit that I couldn't tell him to go to hell and then ignore him?

I closed my eyes and let the cool water fall directly over my face and head, something that always made
me feel as though I stood under a falls on a planet instead of in a sub-coffin-sized shower stall on a ship
using recirculated water. I couldn't help remembering the thoughts I'd had about how my body looked.
Once, when very young, I had gone with my mother to visit some friends of hers. The people had been
animal lovers, and they had had dogs and cats and birds and rodents and all sorts of cute and/or
cuddlesome pets scattered about in almost every room of the house. When my mother and her friends
had begun talking business I was given the run of the house, something I wasn't reluctant to accept. The
idea of all those animals living together had fascinated me, and I'd wandered from room to room,
admiring the comradely peace and calm-until I came to the rule's exception. A small but beautifully
colored bird was flapping around in a frenzy in its large, ornate cage, beating mindlessly against the bars
and swings and perches, acting as though it were trying to get away from some horrible menace. I'd
looked all around; trying to see what the menace could be, but hadn't found anything at all to explain the
bird's behavior when a house servant entered the room. The bird's frenzied flapping caught his
immediate attention, and with a sound of annoyance he went straight to an orange and white cat lying
quietly near the cage, picked up the animal up, then left the room with it. The bird's fluttering hysterics
had started quieting immediately, but I hadn't understood why. The cat hadn't been doing anything but
staring at the bird . . .



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I took my face out of the water so that I could sigh deeply, wondering what the hell I was going to do.
The cat in question wasn't a housecat but a hunting cat, and the bird wasn't a cagebird but a mutated
hunting hawk. If they ever got down to it in a serious way more than feathers and fur would fly, but the
cat didn't seem prepared to back off, and the bird was beginning to feel her talons flexing in pure reflex.
If something didn't happen to establish a truce between them, the upcoming months would not be at all
pleasant, but the hawk didn't want a truce on the cat's terms. I damned well couldn't accept a truce on
Val's terms, not and still look myself in the face when I brushed my hair. He could stare until he was
blue in the face, but I'd be damned if I'd let it stampede me.

With which strong-minded resolve I finished my shower, let the air blowers dry me, then marched out of
the shower stall. The small exercise room was empty, but when I turned the corner into the salon, I ran
smack into the cause of my frenzied fluttering in the flesh.

"Hey, be careful!" Val said with touching concern, grabbing my arms to keep me from going over
backward at the collision. Then he grinned faintly and observed, "Small ship, isn't it?"

"Not that small," I muttered to myself and began to step around him, but suddenly he was in my way
again. I looked up at him with what must have been automatic talon flexing, and he immediately held up
a conciliatory hand.

"I'm really not trying to crowd you," he said. "It's just that I have a problem, and I need your help with
it."

I studied his very innocent face for a minute, knowing damned well he was trying to con me, but still
said, "What problem?"

"It's right this way," he said, stepping aside and gesturing with one hand. "Come on and I'll show you."

I half expected him to lead the way to his bunk, but his actual destination turned out to be the galley. He
led me up to the synthoserver, then turned and gestured at it over his shoulder.

"I can't eat what that thing puts out," he said, the distaste in his expression testifying to the truth of his
words. "No matter what color or shape or texture it comes out in, it all tastes the same and I can't eat it.
If that's all this ship has in the way of food, I'm not going to make it to your Federation."

He was looking down at me in a strange way, obviously not kidding about the syntho, but at the same
time pleased he had found something I couldn't ignore him about. I was that close to telling him he'd get
used to the syntho after a while and if he didn't he could starve with my blessing, when I suddenly got a
better idea. The ship was, after all, a luxury yacht, and I could do with a little luxury.

"If it's fresh food you want, the dispenser's over here," I told him, pointing out the recess on the opposite
side of the galley. "The ship needs about ten minutes to thaw out whatever you decide on, and operating
instructions for the broiler grill-oven are in that cabinet, right next to the seasoning, utensils and plates.

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If you don't like syntho, you have to cook your own. Enjoy your meal."

For the second time in five minutes I started to walk around him, but even a ten-year-old could have
blocked the doorway without trying. Val, about as far as you can get from a ten-year-old, was trying,
and what a surprise that turned out to be.

"I'm not very good at following instructions like that," the man who had helped rebuild my ship said in a
coaxing voice, at the same time looking down at me with a smile in his dark black eyes. "Why don't you
stay here and help me, and then we can both enjoy the meal."

I let myself stiffen enough for him to notice, then glared up at him.

"You don't have to rub it in!" I hissed with enough venom to widen his eyes in startlement. "If I knew
how to cook, don't you think I'd be eating food instead of syntho? Don't think you can embarrass me
about it, because you can't! I'm good enough at enough other things that cooking doesn't mean a thing!
Not a thing! Now, get out of my way!"

He retreated in confusion at my tirade, giving me enough room to stalk out of the galley, then let me
carry my coffee away to the control room without saying a word. I settled myself and the coffee in the
pilot's seat, activated the forward screens, then grinned faintly as I sipped and watched our not-yet-
visible progress through the deep black. Syntho might not taste very good until you got used to it, but it
was more nutritionally balanced than natural food, it helped keep you in better shape physically during a
dead-time trip like the one we were currently on-and it was incredibly convenient for people like me
who didn't care to be bothered with cooking. If Val reacted to my play-acting the way I expected him to,
I'd have my choice of the syntho or an already-cooked meal of natural food for the rest of the trip.
Already-cooked by Val. If he ever found out I cooked well enough to suit just about anybody I'd
probably have to defend myself, but life without risk is nothing more than existing. I put my heels up on
the edge of the board, sipped at my coffee, and began thinking about how long I ought to resist being
invited to dinner.

I stayed in the control room until I finished my coffee, went to my cabin to read and nap for a while,
then returned to the exercise area to run through those forms I hadn't gotten to earlier. I would have
thought Val had disappeared off the ship if I hadn't heard the muted clatter and movements every time I
passed the galley; his new preoccupation was taking all of his attention, an absolute blessing as far as I
was concerned. The change of being out from under surveillance for a while made it more than worth it.
When I finished the forms I showered again, then sat down to read.

It was just about 1800 hours AST when I put my book aside, too distracted to sit there any longer. I
hadn't been particularly hungry earlier that day so all I'd had was coffee, but just then I was feeling the
hollowness clear down to my ankles. I'd been expecting Val to figure out how to use the cooking unit,
but there was always the possibility he would turn out to be King Thumbs in anything domestic. It
would b^ too bad all the way around, but I could survive easily on syntho, and Val would just have to
learn to like it. I left my cabin and went straight to the galley and the syntho server, ignoring the galley's

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other occupant until my wrist was grabbed in a big hand before I could touch the selector dial.

"You don't want any of that," I was told in very firm tones, the hand pulling me gently around and away
from the server. "Don't you remember how hard it is to dispose of bodies on this ship?"

"If I don't get any of that, you'll be faced with the need to make the effort," I pointed out, moving my
wrist in his hand. "I happen to be hungry, and I'd like to get something to eat. "

"Then let's get you something to eat," he said with a faint grin, heading me toward the other side of the
galley before turning my wrist loose. "Is there some place with more elbow room where we can set this
out?"

"This" turned out to be more courses of fresh-cooked food than I ever expected to see before I got back
to the Federation, all kept nice and warm behind the holder panels surrounding the cooker. I could now
understand why I hadn't smelled any of his efforts, but not why he hadn't already begun digging in.

"There's a pull-out table in the salon you can use," I answered. "I'll have mine in a minute, and then I'll
be out of your way."

I tried to turn away from the open holder panels, but the hand in the middle of my back wasn't allowing
that. My avenue of retreat was well blocked off.

"What's the matter, are you too good to eat with me?" Val asked softly, making sure his arm stayed in
my way. "Are you afraid to try it in case you like it? It takes a big person to accept a shortcoming,
Diana, but I thought you were big enough to do it. Was I wrong?"

I looked up at the sober face looking down at me, silently giving E for effort to the line he'd decided on.
"All right, I'll join you," I grudged, trying not to lick my lips in anticipation of what was making those
delicious smells. "But only this once. It so happens I-like syntho."

"Only this once," Val agreed without hesitation, showing his grin nowhere except his eyes. "You get the
pull-out table pulled out, and I'll start bringing the food."

With chore assignments made I was free to go where I liked, which was into the salon to see to the table.
A pretty white cloth fluffed out once the table was locked into open position, and Val began covering it
with dishes while I unracked a couple of chairs from the dining set recess, then checked the wine list to
see what was available. On the trip out I'd used a heavy brandy to get stoned on once, not caring to waste
anything better on the urges of deep depression. A wine drunk is murder on the constitution, and the
hangover had been bad enough to keep me from doing it a second time, which left the figurative cellar
almost untouched. Val had prepared a seafood appetizer, a meat soup, a meat and vegetables main dish,
something with about ten million calories for dessert, and had cheese and fruit and breads scattered
around. I selected one good white wine, an average rose and a darned good red, then decided against the
excellent brandy the yacht's original owner had undoubtedly laid in for himself. If I felt like sharing

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brandy with Val, I could always call it up later.

Once we were settled at the table, there was more plate-passing and swallowing than gabbing
accomplished, the sort of silence one gives to a very creditable effort. Val's handling of the seasoning
was unorthodox but interesting, and the fact that I could have done better didn't keep me from
thoroughly enjoying myself. We worked our way through the first two bottles of wine along with most
of the food, then sat back to sample the third.

"This is nice," Val observed, raising his glass so that the light gleamed red off its contents, then brought
it to his lips again. "Have you made any plans for our first stop after we reach your Federation?"

"I certainly have," I answered with a good deal of satisfaction, noticing how close to blood color the
wine was. I felt relaxed and good after that meal, and didn't mind talking about my plans. "I have some
unfinished business named Radman to see to, and then I'll show you a few of the sights. "

"Isn't that the name of the slaver who first put you on this ship?" Val asked, looking at me over the rim
of his glass. "When Dameron first questioned you he found out you'd been after this Radman, but he
never learned exactly why. What law did he break?"

"Aside from what he did to me?" I asked, remembering the way I'd felt after waking up aboard that ship,
the control room in ruins, unexplored vastness all around me, my future all behind me. If I hadn't been
too stubborn to give him the satisfaction, I would have gone slowly mad, locked up in a crippled hulk on
my way to the far side of forever. And it was all Radman's doing, the slime who found that sort of thing
more fun than a clean death, the filth who never thought. I'd come back from it, the dead man who didn't
yet know we had a final date penciled in on the calendar.

"Radman's a special case among slavers," I said after taking a deep, necessary swallow of my wine, only
vaguely noticing that Val hadn't filled the gap between my question and the beginning of my answer to
his question. "As long as he stuck to ordinary slave-trading he was none of our business too many
member planets consider slavery of one sort or another legal. Not long ago, though, he decided to branch
out.

"Two Councilmen were arguing for opposite sides of an important political question, and Radman, in an
effort to increase his power, approached one of them with an offer. For all I know, the Councilman may
have thought he was acting in the best interests of the people; whatever it was, he made a deal with
Radman and two days later the other Councilman's three children disappeared. The second Councilman
was told he would see them again only if he abandoned his opposition to the first Councilman's stand."

Val was still staring at me silently, his wine glass held in both hands, his lack of expression giving me
no clues as to what he was thinking. I took my eyes away from him, and went on with the story.

"Unfortunately for his children, the second Councilman was a man of honor," I continued. "He refused
to desert his stand, and the kids paid for it. They were never seen at home again, but were eventually

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traced to the pleasure planet Xanadu, purely by accident. Radman had sold them to the Pleasure Sphere,
and it was much too late to save them. The nine-year-old-girl and twelve-year-old-boy had been used to
death by the patrons, and the sixteen-year-old-girl had committed suicide. It didn't take long before the
Councilman went the same way his oldest daughter had gone."

"And all that because of someone's twisted desire for power," Vat said very softly, so softly that I looked
back at him in startlement. I'd never heard such chill menace from him before. "And you were supposed
to arrest him, but instead of your getting him, he got you. Why were you sent alone? Why didn't they
send a squad of peacekeepers?"

"A squad of male peacekeepers, you mean?" I asked with a very faint smile before sipping my wine.
"We don't call them that in the Federation, but I catch your meaning. The only problem with that is
Federation police can't do what I do. "

"Why not?" he asked, almost in annoyance, his wine forgotten. "What makes a lone female more
qualified to arrest filth like that than a squad of men?"

"Possibly the fact that there's no arrest involved," I answered, trying not to watch him closely and failing
miserably. "The Council issued a death warrant on Radman to show how much they appreciated his
efforts, and I'm the Special Agent they sent to serve it. If someone hadn't warned him I was coming, I
would have killed him and left the body for his friends to find, as a warning against trying something
like that ever again. It would hardly have been the first death warrant I ever served, Val, and if I'm very,
very lucky, I'll get back to find that no one else was sent to see to it in my absence. Not even police
special squads are authorized to-or capable of-executing a death warrant. I am."

I watched him absorb the news. It hadn't been necessary to tell him that with a two-month trip still in
front of us, but I couldn't hold back. Val knew well enough that I'd killed on Tildor-hell, I'd almost done
it to him!-but there was a big difference between killing in self-defense and killing in cold blood. That
the end result was the same made no difference to most people; deliberate executions of any sort were
horrifying, and the soulless, inhuman creatures capable of taking life without the mitigating emotions of
rage or fear-for-self were more horrifying still. Those black eyes watched me while I watched him, the
thoughts behind them totally unreadable, and abruptly I didn't care to play the game any more. I didn't
give a damn how shocked he was; at least it would keep him out from under my feet from then on.

"Thanks for the meal," I said, swallowing the last of my wine before replacing the glass carefully on the
table and then standing. "If you'd ever like it matched in syntho, just let me know. "

I started back toward my cabin, looking forward to being alone, but Val was out of his chair so fast he
practically materialized in front of me, blocking the way.

"Come on, you don't really want to put us back to where we were," he said, sounding as if that was all
there was worth discussing between us. "That wine is much too good to be left after a single taste, and I
really hate drinking alone. And you haven't finished telling me what we'll be doing in the Federation

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once we take care of that Radman garbage. Just a little while longer, and a little more of the wine-What
do you say?"

"After we take care of Radman?" I echoed, feeling as if I'd already had more than enough wine. I
couldn't understand how he could dismiss what I'd told him so lightly, not with the way people usually
took it. "What about-what I just said. Didn't it bother you?"

"Of course it bothered me," he said, looking faintly startled. "Just because you're capable of doing a
tough job like that doesn't mean they had the right to send you in entirely unprotected, without any back-
up. Something can slip in any dangerous situation, just the way it did in yours. Next time he'll have the
two of us to contend with, and I don't think he'll do as well-no matter who warns him about what. "

"The two of us," I echoed again, almost in a whisper, feeling so strange that I couldn't describe it, even
to myself. I'd had partners before, usually under protest and usually forgotten as soon as the assignment
was over, but even when it had worked out I'd never felt so-really wanted. It was stupid, and probably a
combination of imagination and too much wine, but as I looked up into those dark black eyes, it almost
felt as though Val was considering me with an eye for more than what most men usually wanted. A big
hand came gently to my face, and I looked up in time to see how close his face was. Warm lips touched
mine briefly but without any doubt, and then we were heading for one of the couches, to discuss the
Federation a bit more over another glass of the really good wine.. When it finally came to me that what
he probably wanted was nothing more than some human interaction in the midst of the ultimate isolation
all around us, I was able to relax again and hold up my end of the conversation. The rest of it was just
wine and imagination after all, but that strange feeling still warmed the rest of that "night. "



CHAPTER 3

Life settled down into routine after that, but there wasn't much of the boredom you'd expect. Val took to
joining me in morning loosening-up exercises, but he didn't know enough to join me in afternoon
fighting practice and I wasn't about to teach him. In the afternoons we took turns in the exercise room,
and he didn't offer to teach me what he was doing either.

I continued to eat the syntho any time I wanted a quick snack, but Val cooked every time he was hungry,
which seemed more often than it should be. I know he had to keep that big body of his fueled, but how
you can eat that much in such confined spaces is a complete mystery to me. We shared dinner every ship
night, and I was well prepared for the time he decided to "teach me how to cook. " My attitude was
"gamely willing" when we started the lesson, but it didn't take long before I managed to burn myself on
the cooker, in the process destroying the' simple meal it was cooking. I cursed out the cooker and my
own "clumsiness" without once blaming Val, and that was the end of the lessons.

There were times when we didn't say a word to each other, but there were also times when we talked
about ourselves. Val didn't say much about himself except for the fact that he'd been at Dameron's

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outpost for about three Absari years, had worked in the field for a while, moved into heading his own
team, then accepted the job as Dameron's second. He was so vague about his family and life before that
that I decided not to press him; we all have things in our past we'd rather not discuss. From other things
he said I gathered his family was to some degree important on their home world, and maybe that was the
trouble. If he'd done something to embarrass them he would have had to leave, and something like that
was none of my business.

The trip out had been endless, but I awoke one day to discover that some time during the ship "night" we
had moved into communication range-or, at least, into communication range with my department. We
had barely entered the fringes of Federation space and were still a good hop, skip and a jump away from
what might be considered inhabited space, but triangulation showed that one of our souped up, highly
classified comm boosters wasn't too far ahead. I can't imagine what sort of thinking went into anchoring
those boosters at countless points on the edges of nowhere, but I didn't have to have their raison d'etre in
order to use one. I sent out a pulse on my departmental frequency, established it for repeat, then went to
get a cup of coffee. The relaying would take a while, but once they locked onto me we'd have a two-way
with no lag.

About fifteen or twenty minutes passed before I got a double-pulse echo, and then a lock-on decrease in
static. I cut my own pulse just as the double cut out, and then there was nothing but the hum of the open
connect. The silence said they were waiting for me to identify myself, so I recited a string of code
numbers designed to tell them who I was, then waited for a reply. It wasn't long in coming.

"Please repeat series," a familiar voice said. "Reverification necessary."

I repeated the series and added, "That's the last repeat you get, Jerry. I don't need practice in
pronouncing numbers."

"Diana!" the voice exclaimed, "It is you! Where the hell have you been? We wrote you off two months
ago."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I told him, stretching into long comfort in the pilot's seat. "It's only
been about six months altogether."

"I should have known better." Jerry laughed. "It would take more than Radman to put you away
permanently."

"Yeah, well he almost made it," I answered, no longer amused. "You'd better record if you're not doing
so already. I have a report that's going to shake everyone in sight. And if you're not alone, clear everyone
else out. This report goes straight to Ringer, and is guaranteed to burn anyone not authorized to hear it."

"Recording," he acknowledged, sounding curious. "Should I put my fingers in my ears?"

"It would not hurt, my boy," I laughed, "it would not hurt. Report beginning." I started from the time I

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woke up outward bound, continued through to the present, and finished up with, "Valdon and I have
recalculated the date of the conference, and everything is ready to be turned over to whoever has to get
it. I refuse to attempt any conclusions as to the Confederacy's aims, but I must point out that they would
still be unknown to us if I'd had a fatal accident before I could lift off. As for Radman, I claim a priority
on him. I'd like to finish my business with him before Valdon and I take on any other assignment. End of
report."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a minute, then Jerry's voice came through again,
sounding shaken.

"I should have taken your advice and put my fingers in my ears," he muttered. "I'll get this to Ringer, but
if he's anything like me, he won't believe a word of it. I'm leaving the frequency open so Ringer can talk
to you. Out for now."

There was nothing else after that but the hum of the open connect, so I went to the galley, got another
cup of coffee, then retraced my steps to the control room. Val had been puttering in the galley as usual,
paying no attention to what I did in the control room, but the glance he gave me showed he knew
something was up. He didn't ask any more questions about what I was up to than I'd asked about his
past; when it was time for him to know, he knew I'd tell him.

As usual, Ringer didn't waste any time. Five minutes after the minimum time needed to listen to my
report, his voice came through the speaker.

"Diana, are you there?" he demanded without any preamble, his voice its usual growl.

"I'm here, Ringer," I answered with a faint smile I couldn't help. If I'd never heard Ringer's voice again, I
would have missed it.

"I've learned never to expect the normal from you, but this is more than ever I would have expected," he
said with a grin. "Have you ever heard the ancient saying about someone who falls into an unusually
filled barrel, and comes out with an improbable smell?"

"I've heard it, Ringer, but the smell hasn't been established yet," I said as I sipped at my coffee. "What
do you think of their proposal?"

"I'm with you," he growled. "I'll leave the conclusion-drawing to Federation artists trained for it. As
soon as I'm finished with you, I'll get through to some people I know and dump it in their laps. By the
way, you didn't go into any detail about how Radman grabbed you. Did you fall asleep on the job?" '

"Not bloody likely," I snorted. "How many ears are there in the room with you?"

"Just my own," he said suspiciously. "Why?"



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"Because Radman was waiting for me with open arms," I told him. "What does that sound like to you?"

"It sounds like a sellout," he said after briefly cursing with feeling. "Do you have any idea who?"

"Not the slightest," I assured him. "If I did, they'd be on the top of my list instead of Radman. I hope you
haven't sent anyone else after him. I'd hate to think I missed out."

"I was going to, but the Council withdrew the warrant until we could find out what happened to you,"
Ringer said, the faintest bit hesitant over the tone I'd used. "You know the Council doesn't believe in
wasting agents. If something stopped you, they wanted to find out what it was before sending anyone
else in."

"Good for them," I nodded in satisfaction. "They may be learning to use their heads. Where is he now?"

"Don't start resetting your course just yet," he ordered, with a hint of annoyance. "You've got a piece of
paper for me, remember?"

"Oh, yes, that." I sighed and sat back again. "Okay, where do you want it?"

"Head for Faraway Station," he decided after a minute of silent consideration. "You can make it in a few
days, and so can I. You'll give me what you're carrying, and I'll give you a couple of sets of identity
papers. How do you think your new partner will work out?"

"He shouldn't be too bad at all-on the easy stuff," I answered, remembering my promise to Dameron.
"You'll flip out when you see what he can do, and we can have a contest to see which of us gets to
believe it first. When you leave for Faraway, bring along some essentials for me from my apartment;
you know what I'll need. And make sure that warrant is back in effect, I don't want to run into any static
about operating under a cancelled instrument. And when we get to Faraway, you can buy Val some
clothes. If I gave you his measurements now, you'd never believe them."

"If he put up with you for two months and is still in one piece, I already know what his measurements
have to be," Ringer came back with a dig in his voice that made me grin. "Any other orders, ma'am, any
other little thing I can do for you?"

"Nothing I can think of right now," I drawled, knowing the drawl would irritate him. "Didn't you miss
me, Ringer?"

"I certainly did," he answered, and I could almost see the gleam in his eyes. "One day soon I hope to tell
you exactly how much."

"I haven't done a damned thing you can cite me for and you know it," I came back with a laugh,
remembering again how much I enjoyed prodding him. "Even I can't break any regs from way out here."



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"If there's a way, you'll find it," he returned with the sort of dryness I seem to inspire. "If you think of
anything else I ought to know, save it until we both get to Faraway."

"Read you ten and zero, O mighty leader," I acknowledged, but despite the irreverence it so happened I
agreed with him completely. Not knowing where the original leak about my assignment had come from
meant I couldn't leave any meaningful messages to be passed on to Ringer by anyone else. There were
certain people, like Jerry and his brothers and sisters in communications, who had been rendered
incapable of betraying anything that passed through their hands and minds, but voluntary conditioning of
that sort wasn't required of everyone who worked for the department. Our people would find the leak
eventually, but until they did I would be talking to no one but the man I worked for.

Ringer and I took turns at sign-off, then he broke the connect, which brought the static back. I flipped
off the communicator and was about to get out of the pilot's seat, when a glance over my shoulder
showed me an unexpected sight. Val stood leaning against the bulkhead right next to the entry, his arms
folded, his ears all but flapping. It seemed the galley had at last lost its fascination, and I couldn't help
but wonder at the coincidence of the timing.

"Having fun?" I asked, turning the seat around so that I could look directly at him. "Hear anything you'd
like to write home to mother about?"

"I wasn't eavesdropping, if that's what you're implying," he answered, looking not the least bit ashamed
or guilty. "We're supposed to be partners, and partners share things, especially contact with the home
base. I assumed you simply forgot to invite me, and went ahead and invited myself."

His black eyes showed a good part of the annoyance he seemed to be feeling, an annoyance which was,
by my way of looking at things, wholly unjustified.

"It won't be your home base until you get your first assignment," I pointed out, raising my mug to my
lips for a sip of what was left. "Until then it's my home base, and I would have appreciated some
privacy."

"For all the highly classified things you had to discuss," he said with a nod, prying himself off the
bulkhead to walk to the co-pilot's seat and fold down into it. "Things I know nothing about, like the
experience you had on Tildor, and the proposed conference between our people, and the trouble you had
with Radman-and the sort of assignments I'm to be given."

So that was it. Val didn't like the idea of being given nothing but "easy ones," and that was just too bad.

"What about the assignments you'll be given?" I asked with full openness, looking at him over my mug
rim. "What sort of assignments did you expect to get?"

"I expected to get what my partner got," he growled, not about to let himself be soothed. "Is that what
you'll be doing, Diana? The 'easy' ones?"

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"If they come my way, you won't find me turning my nose up at them." I shrugged. "If you spend too
much time with your life constantly on the line, you get to the point where you're too tired or too bored
to put out maximum effort. After that you find yourself intimately involved in final sort of happenings,
the kind that take you out of the game for keeps. What's your departmental rating, Val?"

"I don't understand," he said, surprised at the unexpected question. "How could I know my rating in a
department I haven't even officially joined yet?"

"Well, you seemed to know what sort of assignments you should be given," I pointed out. "If you don't
know what rating you are, how do you know what an 'easy' one consists of?"

His face took on a frustrated look, an awareness of the way he was being backed into a corner without
knowing how to get out of it again. He shifted in annoyance in the seat, his eyes not at all pleased with
me, and then he found a corner to hang argument on.

"You said you'd take the easy ones 'if' they came your way," he countered, the feral look firmly planted
in his eyes. "You obviously don't expect them to come your way, but you want them to come mine."

"I've spent twelve years proving what I can do," I pointed out. "I started learning what I was up against
when I was eighteen standard years old, and the twelve years show how well I learned those lessons. I'm
a Special Agent, Val, and in my frame of reference 'easy' means anything that isn't automatically
considered certain death. You better believe I'll take an easy one if it comes my way, but there are too
many assignments that aren't easy-and not enough Special Agents to do them. If you prove to my people
you can do what I do, they'll be more than happy to change your designation. Why you would want it
changed I can't imagine, but you have to give them a chance to evaluate you."

His sharp, annoyed movements in the seat showed he was still struggling against the box I had him in,
but sweet reason has it all over driving argument when you want to nail someone good. "They can
evaluate me all they like while we're working together," he said at last, his tone announcing that that was
the sole concession he was willing to make. "Partners are two people who work together, and that's the
reason I came here with you: to be your partner. What's an orbital station?"

The abrupt change of subject was a lot more of a concession than the one he'd voiced, and I smiled to
myself as I turned back to the controls. When the time came, Val would do what he was told to do, and
in the meanwhile I was no longer the bad guy.

"An orbital station is part of the system the Federation set up to make traveling easier," I said, letting the
instruments confirm my estimate that it was too soon to change my heading for Faraway. "Major
spaceports started out right on the planet designated as a `change of trains' stop, and all kinds of
unexpected difficulties developed with them. If people had to wait a week or more to make connections
with a ship going their way, they started wondering about what was beyond the spaceport fence. If they'd
checked out local customs first, they might have been there waiting when their ship got in, but most

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sightseers didn't bother. They just went their merry way and found out about strange laws the hard way."

I shifted away from the controls and continued. "The Federation wasn't about to start a shooting war
with half its planet even if the problem of shaking tourists loose from their grip was getting worse by the
day, so some bright boy came up with the idea of orbiting stations where sightseers could wander all
they liked and never get into trouble. If they want to hit dirt, they have to sit through a lecture on local
behavior and pass a test before they're allowed down, so most don't bother. Those orbital stations are
Federation run and have everything you can think of, but Faraway, being so far out, is a little on the
rough side, just like the planet it orbits. If they didn't need it for a change-of-trains stop, the planet
Faraway would have to get along with shuttles and freighters the way other young planets do. A planet
doesn't get an orbital station until its rate of advancement earns it one."

The black eyes watching me grew briefly annoyed at the statement of fact I'd made, then became
amused.

"I've discovered that anything worthwhile has to be earned," he commented with a faint grin while I took
my attention briefly away from him. When I looked up again he was standing right over me, the faint
grin widened. "I've never minded having to earn things, Diana, and I've always managed to earn
whatever it was I really wanted."

"And what is it you really want this time, Val?" I asked, for some reason feeling uncomfortable as I
looked up at him. The control room was too bright for me to miss seeing any part of his expression, and
the amusement he showed in both face and eyes was completely unexplained.

"This time I really want to be partners with a female who spent twelve years proving what she can do,"
he said, leaning down suddenly to lift me out of the pilot's seat. "I don't think it will take me nearly as
long to prove what I can do."

"Not many assignments are given out on the basis of that sort of expertise," I pointed out, as I moved in
protest against the arms holding me. "If you're thinking about trying to match me, Val, don't waste your
time. And put me down. I haven't done any loosening up yet this morning."

"Don't you think it's about time someone did try to match you?" he asked, looking less amused as he
held me without the least effort. "There's a saying among my people that points up the lack of crowding
in the highest positions."

" `It's lonely at the top,' " I quoted without thinking, then immediately regretted saying something that
mindless. "Lonely and rough, or possibly lonely because not too many people can hack it. If you're tired
enough of living and want to give it a stab, why should I care?"

"That's right," he agreed very quietly, for some reason watching me as he finally put me down. "Why
should you care?"



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I turned away from him without adding anything to the conversation, then remembered the exercising I
hadn't done. I wasn't really in the mood any longer, but went to take care of it anyway. In the past I'd
cared about my partners, but only in so far as the job was concerned; what they did outside that
particular frame of reference was strictly their business, and absolutely none of mine. If Val wanted to
get himself killed the way so many others had, why should l care? It was his life, wasn't it? I stood still
in the middle of the exercise area for a minute, suddenly less than pleased at being so close to home,
then said to hell with it and got on with the exercising. Val was nothing but another partner, so why
would I care what he did?

"How many times did you say you've done this sort of thing?" Val asked from the co-pilot's seat, his
eyes glued to the screens. "What happens if you miss the opening"

"I've done it at least twice, and if I miss the opening the ship will crash and explode," I muttered in
answer, paying more attention to what I was doing than to Val's hysterics. Commercial liners send
shuttles to all orbital stations to pick up and deliver passengers, but small private ships rarely have
shuttles to send. With a ship the size of ours it was necessary to dock the ship itself, and that docking
was done tail first.

Just then I was edging us closer and closer to the huge globe that was Faraway Orbital Station, aiming
for the relatively tiny docking aperture that had been assigned to us, easing our approach by means of
the ship's gentle directional jets. The screens in front of me made it seem as if we were moving forward,
and it was necessary to consciously remember it was backward movement we wanted. Too little thrust
and the "wind" created by the massive station would send us floating away again, too much thrust and
we'd go slewing all over the place. The littlest bear's touch was what was needed just then, and I had no
concentration to spare for a man who didn't trust women drivers.

"That wasn't very funny," Val growled, but softly enough to keep from distracting me. "You may have
gone through this before, but I haven't. In the Confederacy we'd land a ship like this directly on the
planet, not try putting it into a half-inch diameter hole in an orbiting space station. If you'd given me
some warning about what had to be done, I could have tried my hand at it. I probably have more
experience at precision piloting than you do."

His voice was so filled with automatic, unconscious superiority that I nearly was distracted, with the
urge to look around for something to beat him over the head with, if nothing else. Before I could give in
to the urge, though, I felt the first tentative touch of the grabber field, and then it was locked on tight,
ready to slide us automatically into the berth. The controls went dead under my hands as the field took
over completely, the safety field that made sure no one would end up smashing into the Station. I'd only
had to guide the ship in close enough to where the field could take over, but exact positioning is a matter
of contest among the people I worked with, and I'd known Ringer would be watching. As soon as I saw
my jockeying had put us dead on I felt the usual satisfaction, but then I thought of a way to increase the
feeling.

"Well, if you're so good, go right ahead and take over," I said to Val in a huff, pulling my hands

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completely away from the controls as I turned to glare at him. "Well, don't just sit there, go ahead."

"Diana, the controls!" he shouted, reaching forward to slap frantically at the board. "Do something, or
we'll crash!"

"You should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth." I gloated, watching him jump
between the board and the screens. "We still have about a hundred and fifty yards to cover before we hit.
Let's see some of that precision piloting. "

"How can I pilot when the controls won't respond?" he demanded, fighting desperately to get the board
to react to his efforts, then doing a double-take when his glance showed him the way I'd stood out of the
pilot's seat to stretch. He couldn't help but smell a rat then, especially when I smiled sweetly at him.

"I think we can trust the grabber field to do the rest of the docking, don't you?" I asked as he stared at me
darkly. "We should be all sealed in in no more than another couple of minutes, so let's get our stuff and
wait at the lock."

"Grabber field," he muttered as he came along behind me, following as I led the way to the salon where
we'd left the things we were taking with us. I was dressed in a light blue ship's suit and canvas deck
shoes, and Val was wearing his cobalt blue uniform, but the uniform looked enough like a fancy ship's
suit that it would pass any but the closest inspection. On another orbital station I might have fretted a
little; on Faraway it was strictly no sweat.

"You might have told me the Station had automatic docking," the hovering hulk behind me growled,
definitely unhappy with me. "Does seeing people having heart failure before your very eyes make the
day for you? Do you remember what I told you about using words first and only then indulging in other
tactics?"

"Stop getting so wild." I laughed over my shoulder, at the same time picking up the packet of now-
translated documents Phalsyn had given us and tucking it in my bag on the side opposite my completed
double-check tape. "When you learn about something in an unusual enough way, the learning sticks with
you longer. Don't you want to remember what you learn, partner?"

I picked up my already-packed monolon bag and turned to look at him, giving him a grin. Val didn't
seem to appreciate my sense of humor and looked about ready to make mention of the fact, but he was
interrupted by the soft bump and scrape of the ship sealing in. A final clank announced it was time to
leave the ship, so I turned and headed for the airlock before Val could go back to casting that feral stare;
I'd already had more of it than I was interested in, and as I strode away I could hear my partner grabbing
up his own bag and hurriedly following.

I'd been idly wondering just where on the Station Ringer would be waiting, but I should have known
better than to waste the effort. When the double doors of the airlock slipped back to let me out of the
ship, he was standing not five feet away and staring directly at me, his expression more intent than I'd

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ever seen it. Ringer, Chief of Agents who reported directly to the Federation Council, a Special Agent
who had lived long enough to be given a position like that, wasn't terribly imposing to look at. With the
enormous and nearly empty docking area behind him he looked smaller than he really was, round and
harmless and neatly dressed in a green four-piece businessman's suit that suggested to the universe
around him that here was a man who probably sold ladies' underwear. If his brown hair was a trifle too
long for your average businessman, and his black eyes a trifle too sharp, those things were usually
overlooked in favor of his pudginess-which was almost all camouflage for the muscle underneath.

Ringer wasn't a man who put other men on guard-which was probably one of the reasons he had
managed to survive.

Right at that moment, however, Ringer's eyes were examining me so closely that anyone trying to sneak
up on him would probably have been able to get within ten feet of him before he noticed. His sharp
black eyes moved from my long red hair and blue eyes to my face, traveled quickly up and down my
body, then went back to my face and started the trip all over again. I smiled faintly at the way he was
trying to swallow down his disbelieving shock, and strolled over to him.

"Hi, cutey, wanta have some illegal fun?" I asked in a low, throaty voice, giving him a smile to match.
The expression in his eyes flickered as he remembered the recognition signal we'd used the one time
we'd worked together on an assignment, about ten or eleven years earlier, and then he grinned.

"I recognized your hand at the controls during docking, but I didn't expect that to be the only thing I'd
recognize," he said in a low growl looking me over for the fifteenth time. "Being warned doesn't do a
damned thing to prepare you." `. "You ought to try it from the inside," I suggested, grinning. "Looking
in a mirror has become a traumatic experience -but only from the neck up. From the neck down,
everything's the way it used to be, I'm happy to say."

"So I noticed," he murmured, then moved his eyes to a point just behind my left shoulder. "And that
can't be anyone but Valdon," he went on in a normal-toned voice, coming up with an unphonied smile of
greeting as he put his hand out. "I can see why he's still in one piece after spending two months alone
with you."

"She came close to changing that," Val said dryly as he stepped forward to take the hand offered him,
shaking it as though he'd indulged in the gesture all his life instead of just recently having learned it
from me. "She forgot to mention that Stations have grabber fields to do the docking, and simply leaned
back from the controls when it looked like we were about to crash. She thought it was amusing."

"Your people would have been smarter changing her sense of humor rather than her face," Ringer
observed, flexing his hand surreptitiously as he took it back. Val's grip tended to be somewhat on the
firm side, and I was sure he'd toned it down more in practice with me than he had a moment earlier with
Ringer. They were examining each other in a sizing-up sort of way that seemed to satisfy both of them;
there was an easy, tension-free air between them that grew to the point of friendliness almost
instantaneously, the way it sometimes does between two strong men who recognize each other for what

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they are. Being female I found the process fascinating, but I wasn't given the opportunity of studying it
for very long.

"That so-called sense of humor of hers has gotten her into more hot water than you could possibly
believe," Ringer went on to Val in a chummier tone than I cared for. "Some day it'll get her in so deep
she'll end up boiled for supper."

"I'm surprised it hasn't already," Val answered, also chummy, while Ringer sent me a disapproving stare.
"You should have seen the things she did to me on Tildor, not to mention the trip here. I think something
ought to be done about it."

"If you can think of something and make it stick, you have my blessing," Ringer told him with a wolfish
grin for me. "And I can probably also guarantee the Council's blessing, providing you don't leave too
many visible marks on her. Some of them are squeamish."

"I think you just blew it, Ringer," I said with a grin I couldn't hold back on, seeing the sudden surprise
that Val was registering.

"Blew what?" Ringer asked, and then he turned his head to see Val's expression. "Is something bothering
you, Valdon?"

"You might say so," Val answered with a slow nod, turning those eyes on Ringer instead of me for a
change. "Just what exactly did you mean about not leaving too many marks on her'? What do you think I
am, that I would do something like that to a woman?"

"I thought you were somebody who had gotten to know her," Ringer came back with a calculating look
in his eyes. "As big as you are you might have an. even chance against her, but not unless you're willing
to use everything you've got. You don't seem to understand that it's a Special Agent we're discussing, not
a woman; getting her to change her ways will take more than waving a finger in her face and lecturing
her. Believe me, it's been tried before, and by experts." "

"And what sort of marks did they leave on her?" Val asked in a too-soft voice, still looking at Ringer.
"Ones they were careful not to let show?"

"They didn't get a chance to leave any marks on her," Ringer answered with the same unconcern he'd
been showing all along, somehow missing the way Val was looking at him. "She was the one who left
the marks on them, visible or otherwise. And I think I understand now; you thought I was throwing her
to the wolves."

"Weren't you?" Val said without hesitation, unimpressed by Ringer's calm. "You've never seen me
before, know nothing about what I'm like, and yet the first thing you do is give me a free hand with her,
on the provision I don't leave any marks that can be seen. What would you call it?"



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"I expected to call it sharing an inside joke," Ringer said with a sigh, on the verge of shaking his head.
"Right now I think the joke's on me. Apparently you don't understand how much I do know about you."

Val opened his mouth to demand an explanation of that statement, but that wasn't the place to have a
private conversation. There were no more than about a hundred people trying unsuccessfully to fill the
immense docking area, but some of them had started drifting closer, attracted by the apparent argument
between the two men. Waiting for a liner shuttle is boring business; a good fight livens it up any day. In
view of this, I interrupted before Val could get the first word out.

"How about we find ourselves a quiet corner somewhere?" I suggested, looking first at Ringer and then
at Val. "You two are starting to draw a crowd of admirers."

"She's right," Ringer agreed without looking around, smiling faintly at the sudden awareness in Val's
eyes that nevertheless wasn't enough to cause him to glance around in the guilt reflex. He turned to our
right and began leading the way out of the docking area, and Val and I ambled along behind him.

Faraway Orbital Station had been in service for almost ten years, but it still looked as though it had only
just been unwrapped and put into service. We passed beyond the docking area into the main body of the
Station, ignoring the room reservation alcoves, enjoying the appearance of new-seeming carpeting under
our feet, bright drapes covering the metal of the walls, soft music playing. The saying that goes, "If
you've seen one Station you've seen them all" is perfectly true, except that on Faraway you sometimes
get to see an almost empty Station. Right then the volume of traffic going through was minimal.

We ignored the almost empty dining rooms for the even emptier bar, found our own fairly well lit
corner, and claimed a table. Just as we were settling ourselves; a tall, thin, long-faced specimen
materialized out of nowhere.

"The robot's out for servicin'," he announced in a slow drawl, his long face making the simple statement
of fact a tragedy of the ages. "Ah'll have to fetch whatever it is yore drinkin'."

"I think we can survive that," Ringer answered with a glance for me, undoubtedly as amused as I was.
"Make it Selesian brandy all around."

"Why, shore," the man agreed with an amiable nod, then sort of floated on his way again. It looked like
it would be awhile before our drinks came, but Val didn't seem overly concerned.

"All right," he said in a soft voice, to keep from carrying his eyes on Ringer again. "You claim you know
more about me than I realize; what do you think you know, and how did you gather all of this intricate
knowledge?"

"You'd better watch yourself, Valdon," Ringer growled with faint but very real amusement. "Diana's
sarcasm is beginning to nab off on you. What I think I know about you is pure deduction, but that
deduction is based on what I know for certain about Diana. Do you believe I know Diana?"

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"Considering the way she greeted you, I think that's a safe assumption," Val answered dryly with an odd
glance for me. "Does she make that offer to all her old friends?"

"Only to a certain select few," Ringer said with even more amusement, glancing at me. "It brought back
a lot of old memories, and let me be as sure as possible that this little girl I'm looking at is the woman
I'm used to working with. Until then, I wasn't sure at all."

"That's `young woman,' not `little girl,' " I corrected Ringer, bringing his eyes to me. " `Young woman' I
can live with without any hassle; `little girl' is positively out."

"Little girl," Ringer repeated very firmly, grinning widely, then turned his attention back to Val. "You
just finished a two-month trip with this harmless-looking little girl, and the first thing you did after
leaving the ship was complain about how she treated you. Look at her and tell me what you see."

Val blinked and looked at me, but not understanding what Ringer was talking about made it a waste of
time.

"I don't see anything," Val said after that very brief hesitation, his black eyes puzzled. "What is it I'm
supposed to see?"

"Just what you did see," Ringer answered, settling back comfortably in his armchair. "Nothing. Which is
just what I saw, and on both of you. If Diana ever makes a mistake in character judgment and ends up
alone on a long trip with someone who turns out to be the sort no gal would bring home to meet her
mother, you can be damned well sure she'd do more than let herself be stretched out to dry. I remember
one crumb who tried to use her to prove what a big man he was; she put him face first into a brick wall.
But there was also one who got the drop on her, and I remember what she looked like afterward. She
isn't bright when it comes to cooperating with something like that when she isn't on assignment. "

"And since there wasn't a mark on either one of us, she had no trouble with me on the trip," Val summed
up, understanding finally breaking through the confusion. "But what if I had-gotten the drop on her, and
simply hadn't beaten up on her? How would you have been able to tell?"

"I was trying to explain how well I understood the trouble you had with her," Ringer answered, with a
sigh of patience, pausing to sip at his brandy. Brandy sits best on top of an exquisitely cooked, many-
coursed meal, but Ringer had ordered it as a special welcome-home for me. Selesian brandy is very
expensive, well worth every credit, and my personal favorite among potables. The only other time he'd
ever bought it for me was the day I finally made it out of Blue Skies, a Federation hospital, after a
particularly un"easy" assignment. When I'd first been brought in there, they hadn't thought I would live.

". . . are any number of people in this Federation who have had personal experience with Diana's sense
of humor, and would love to explain. their view of the experience to her in detail," Ringer was
continuing to Val. "Unfortunately for them, none of them can fight as well as she can, or if they can,

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they can't afford to have her on the sick list when there's urgent work to be done. The common daydream
is to someday get even with her, even if it means leaving a mark or two. It won't ever happen, of course,
but there's still the dream; I was just offering you a chance to share it. "

"Why won't it ever happen?" Val asked, and I could feel his eyes on me even though most of my
thoughts and attention had drifted elsewhere.

"Because most of those people believe they owe her even more than she owes them," Ringer answered
lightly. "She has a habit of exercising her sense of humor any time there's a danger of the gratitude or
sentimentality rising too high, and it does make a damned good distraction. She's never learned how to
take a thank-you gracefully."

I made a rude noise. "At the salary I get, thank-you's become superfluous," I told them both, not liking
the bright interest I saw in Val's eyes. "And my bank is fresh out of deposit forms for maudlin
sentimentality. How about changing the subject to something more interesting, like where Radman
might be right now?"

I hoped I'd diverted them from silliness to business, but no such luck. Instead of taking the hint, they just
laughed.

"You're right, of course," Val said to Ringer, and the closeness was there again. "Most of the things she
does have reasons behind them, but even if the reasons are good ones, her efforts tend to be on the
excessive side. There has to be a way of breaking her of the habit."

"I told you," 'Ringer growled, making a face. "It's been tried more than once, and by people who were
downright eager to get somewhere. Even I gave it a shot once, for all the good it did. The only thing it
taught her was to keep her distance when she played games, and to stay out of my reach while I still had
the urge to strangle. A few members of the Council would give me a medal if I killed her, but most of
them would be annoyed. They don't like seeing agents of her caliber wasted."

"And speaking of agents of a particular caliber," Ringer went on to Val, "I understand you have a certain
talent of your own. If I'm not misinterpreting what Diana told me, you ought to find it a handy thing to
have during the next year."

"It wasn't exactly a waste during the past three years, either," Val answered with a small laugh of
amusement, probably because of Ringer's expression. The man I worked for was trying very hard not to
look like a hick from the sticks on his first visit to the big town, awed by all those gosh-dam tall
buildings. Ringer wanted to know more about Val's changing talent, but obviously felt that asking
straight out for a demonstration would be boorish. I could have let him continue stumbling along on his
own, but soft-heartedness is a major failing of mine.

"I think he'd get a kick out of seeing that drink server again," I told Val in the trade language used at
Dameron's base, then made an annoyed sound for Ringer's benefit. "Damn it, if I don't pay attention to

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what I'm saying, I slide right out of Federation Basic," I said to Ringer's frown in what I knew he'd take
as an explanation. "What I was trying to say was, can you reach my bag? I have something I want to
show you, but somehow it ended up closer to you than to me. "

Ringer grunted in what he thought was understanding and leaned over to look under the table, missing
Val's grin and the way my new partner slid out of his chair. I'd pushed my monolon bag as far away as I
could with my foot, mostly to give Val the time he needed, but Val didn't need much in the way of time.
Even as he stood, his features were already blurring and his body was slimming; when Ringer
straightened up no more than a moment later, Val even had the proper slouch.

"How 'bout a nuther round?" the waiter's voice asked a Ringer who was paying almost no attention to
him after noticing that my new partner seemed to have disappeared. "Ah don' mind fetchin' it."

"Not right now, thanks," Ringer answered absently while looking around at as much of the bar as he
could see. "Diana, where did Valdon go? And why didn't you go with him? He hasn't been here long
enough to wander around on his own. "

"For some reason, people get huffy when I tag along with those using men's rooms," I told Ringer with a
faint grin, but I wasn't grinning at what he thought I was. "If you think he'll need the help I'll ignore the
huffiness, but I think he can handle it on his own."

Ringer opened his mouth to growl an answer to my wisecracking, but the "drink server" he'd already
dismissed in his mind beat him to it.

"Say now, looky here," Val drawled, sitting down in his chair again and picking up his only partly tasted
brandy. "This here feller din't finish his first. Guess Ah oughta do it fer 'im."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ringer demanded, finally turning to watch as Val-cum-the
long and lanky waiter reached the glass to his lips and took an appreciative swallow. "Get your butt out
of that chair and back to where it belongs, and while you're at it you can replace that drink you just
tasted-on the house. My friend isn't into sharing. "

"Oh, come on, Ringer, don't be so stuffy," I put in as he continued to glare at an innocently sipping Val.
"Let the guy stay and have a drink with us. Val won't mind."

"He surely looked like a right decent feller t' me," Val agreed in the same drawl, leaning back in his
armchair. "Ah don' think he'd mind neither."

Ringer opened his mouth a second time to put his annoyance into words, but this time he stopped
himself. His eyes had gone from the waiter's face to the familiar blue base uniform that didn't quite go
with the face, a uniform he hadn't taken the time to notice earlier, and suddenly everything clicked into
place. He stared at the waiter's face again with disbelief, then shook his head.



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"I'll be damned," he said very softly, taking it a lot better than I had, his stare still unmoving from Val's
face. "If you'd had the time to change clothes, there's no way I would have known. I don't think I've ever
seen anything like it."

"I would have had him do you, but people tend to have trouble recognizing themselves," I told Ringer. I
was still being ignored because Val was blurring back to himself and filling out again, and nothing short
of armed attack would have been able to draw Ringer's attention away. "If he ever manages to do
reversals, we'll never need a mirror again."

"I'm sorry to spoil your good time, but I'm not a toy," Val said to me. "I came here to work, not to take
the place of your vanity table."

"Well, we all have to do what we do best," I retorted. "Personally, I think you'd look cute as a vanity
table."

"Personally, I have the feeling I shouldn't have had this brandy without eating first," Ringer cut in after
lowering the glass he'd abruptly emptied. "I've never worried about that before, but this seems to be a
day for firsts. Anybody else interested in a sobering influence?"

"Not me," I said with a shake of my head, leaning back in my chair, swirling the brandy in my glass. "I
grabbed a snack just before approach, and it'll hold me for a while."

"Syntho," Val said with a grimace, obviously deciding to drop the discussion we'd been having out of
deference to Ringer's near-upset.

"Syntho has its place, but I prefer the real thing," Ringer agreed with Val's prejudice, looking around to
see if he could spot the real drink-server. "Diana does too, when she isn't feeling restless-or too lazy to
do her own cooking."

"What own cooking?" Val asked with a soft sound of ridicule, and suddenly the conversation took on a
new interest for me. "Diana can't cook."

"Don't tell me you did all the cooking during those two months," Ringer growled disbelievingly at a Val
who had begun to color somewhat. "Come on, Valdon, you didn't really believe her? Haven't you
learned you can't believe a word she says if it doesn't involve an assignment?"

Without a sound Val started to get out of his chair, the fury in his eyes so strong that I got ready to drop
my glass fast and kick the table into him as a delaying tactic until I could get clear of my own chair. One
more inch upward and I would have done it, catching him where it hurts the most, but Ringer had moved
too fast, clamping a hand around his arm and forcing him back down.

"This isn't the place to settle private disagreements," Ringer growled low to Val, tightening his grip,
until Val looked away from me and focused on him. "Starting a brawl in a bar does nothing more than

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attract unwanted attention. And I thought you weren't the kind to beat up on women?"

"So did I," Val said, taking a deep breath. "Or, I never used to be. You can let go of my arm now. The
urge to kill is passing. "

"It only passes on a temporary basis," Ringer told him with a very faint smile, taking his hand back
while Val ran a calming hand through his black hair. "For someone who claims to know her, you got
hotter than I thought you would."

"The effect seems to be cumulative," Val answered, leaning back in his chair to glance at me with an
unreadable expression. "I seem to be able to take only so much from her before the explosion comes,
and finding out about the cooking thing after her vanity table comments and what she did during
docking put it together too fast. I don't like being made to feel like a fool."

"Not many of us do," I put in before Ringer could comment. "That outrage of yours was spectacular, but
I don't think you can justify it. Whose idea was it to start cooking in the first place? Mine? Who was the
one who decided he couldn't eat syntho? Me? Who was the one who talked the other into sharing the
first meal? Into continuing to share the meals? So I led you to believe I couldn't cook. At what point did
I twist your arm hard enough to force you into cooking for both of us?"

"Looks like she has you there, Valdon," Ringer observed, My supposed partner was looking vexed, as
though he didn't quite agree with me. "Is she telling the truth this time?"

"As far as she goes," Val grudged, shifting in annoyance in his chair. "She knew damned well I'd never
sit down to a meal alone when I believed she couldn't make the same meal for herself if she wanted it.
How could any man eat food, when the woman with him is forced to eat syntho?"

"Especially when he was planning on making a suggestion during that meal," I said. "Syntho doesn't set
the mood very well, and it's hard to decide what wine to serve with it."

Ringer chuckled at the way Val flushed, which made Val even more uncomfortable, though why he
should be uncomfortable was beyond me. Did he think Ringer believed we did nothing more than play
twenty questions to while away the time of a two-month trip? If he did, I'd have to decide which bridge
on Hidemite, the Federation's capital world, to sell him.

"That was a low blow, but women are famous for it," Ringer consoled Val, swallowing down the
chuckling. "If you touch them even once, they can claim everything you did for them before that was
with that one end in mind. She probably knows better than that, Valdon, but you'll never get her to admit
it, so arguing would be a waste of breath. Finish up your brandy instead, it'll make you feel better."

"There's only one thing that would make me feel better right now, but you're right about this not being
the place," Val came back with one of those glances for me before lifting his glass to swirl the liquid in
it. "I think you and I are going to have to have a little talk later, Diana."

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"Sounds like he has something in mind, Diana," Ringer was quick to notice. "What with the way you
look now, he just might sit you on his knee to lecture you for a while, then send you to bed early without
supper."

"And then jump right in after me." I laughed, finishing the last of my brandy. Then I looked at Val.
"You'll have to give me a raincheck on that talk, partner. I'll reschedule with you as soon as I get back
from Faraway, and while I'm gone Ringer can show you the Station. I won't be more than a couple of
days."

"You thinking about dropping in on Sellers?" Ringer asked as I pushed my chair back and stood, his
eyes looking up at me. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"If this Sellers is down on that world we're orbiting, I have to agree," Val put in with a frown, his eyes
joining Ringer's. "You have no business running around on a frontier world all alone."

"You think Sellers won't know me?" I asked Ringer, ignoring Val's absurdity entirely. "After the first
five minutes he won't have any doubts, and I really need his spirit after two months locked in a closet.
The papers you want are in that bag sitting near your left foot, and I think that takes care of everything."

"Not quite," Ringer denied, with only a glance for the peculiar expression Val had developed. "If you
take two days off to hunt spirits on Faraway, you'll miss your liner shuttle, which should be docking
about three and a half hours from now. "

"What liner?" I asked, only then noticing the hidden assessment in his eyes. "Wait a minute- You've
located Radman. You know where he is."

"We've known all along where he was," Ringer said, watching me calmly. "We've been keeping an eye
on him ever since you disappeared, and two days ago he boarded a liner for Xanadu. We don't know
whether the trip is business or pleasure, but that's where he'll be for a while. Still thinking about going
spirit hunting?"

"No," I answered, sitting down in my chair again. "I've found something better to hunt than a few
harmless spirits. Is that warrant back in effect? Did you bring my knives? What about a replacement for
my I.D.? Was there enough time?"

"Yes, yes, and no," Ringer answered, making another stab at spotting the drink server. "I have the
warrant and your knives, but there wasn't enough time to culture another I.D. for you. What I do have is
identity papers for you and Valdon, absolutely authentic and properly documented and sealed, but you'll
have to be careful with them. The ink's still wet. "

I snorted softly in amusement as I leaned back in my chair, knowing those identity papers would be a
better job than what Ringer was trying to make me believe. They would not be perfect or in any way

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legitimate, but they'd be more than good enough to get us to Xanadu, right on Radman's tail.

"I know I'm just a tourist around here," Val broke into my thoughts and Ringer's searching, "but would
one of you mind telling me what spirits are? And why the name Xanadu ` sounds familiar? If it isn't too
much trouble."

Ringer let the heavy sarcasm roll by without comment. Val was feeling left out, and he wanted us to
know it.

"Spirits are the most aggressive carnivores Faraway has," Ringer told him in the most off-hand tone he
was capable of. "They're big, catlike creatures that seem to materialize out of thin air in attack, then
disappear the same way, which is why they're called spirits. Anyone who has ever hunted them will
swear they enjoy the hunt and there's no reason why they shouldn't. The minute you walk into their
territory, your chances are no more than fifty-fifty of ever walking out again, which means they take as
many trophies as we do."

"And that's what you were going to do to clear away cobwebs?" Val said to me, outraged. "I think you'd
better take another look; that's not cobwebs bothering you, it's insanity. "

"Some day I'll explain an old saying about meat and poison," I told him with a laugh. "Right now I'll
remind you where you heard about Xanadu. It was when you asked about what Radman had done to
make the Council send me after him. Xanadu is the pleasure world Radman deals with on a regular
basis, and . . . "

"And is the place those children were sold into slavery," he finished for me, his face suddenly going
entirely expressionless, his eyes turning colder than LOX. "And that's where we're going."

"That's where I'm going," I corrected gently. "I started this assignment alone, and I don't mind finishing
it the same way. Ringer can show you the sights while I'm tied up, and I'll take over later. Don't think
you have to come with me."

"Try and stop me," he said with a snort of scorn, abruptly going back to the brandy he'd just been
holding. "Seeing that you don't get tied up is one of the reasons I'll be there, remember? It's time you
learned how much better teamwork is than going it alone."

Ringer glanced at me as I sat back in my chair, but he didn't say anything and neither did I. I was going
to have company on my hunt, and the benefits or drawbacks of the arrangement remained to be seen.
Since the most important preliminaries had been taken care of, Ringer leaned back in his chair and thrust
his hand into the right side of his coat as he looked at me.

"Here are your papers, liner reservations, and credit proofs," he said, pulling out a double stack of the
sort of official nonsense no one in the Federation could get along without. "Valdon is Valdon Carter and
you're Jennifer Kent, a precaution in case Radman was also given the name of the Special Agent sent

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after him. The renewed warrant is in the sealed compartment of your credit proof, handy in case you
have to produce it, out of the way if you don't. Just watch what you do with those credit proofs; they're
hooked into our discretionary fund by way of the usual blinds, and I'll expect an accounting for every
credit spent."

"And you'll get that accounting," I agreed solemnly, quickly activating the credit proof handed to me
with my thumb print in the activating square before Ringer could change his mind. "You know how
creative I am. Just don't expect any miracles. We're going to Xanadu, not Faraway."

"I know, I know," Ringer grumbled, showing Val how to activate his proof. "All I'm asking is that you
don't get carried away and take an extended tour of the planet. I know you, Diana, and giving you a
direct tie into departmental funds makes me nervous."

"How many times have I offered to pay you back?" I demanded, trying not to laugh aloud. "If you were
silly enough to let them set up an accounting program without provision for illegal procedures it's not
my fault, it's yours. If I have to grease a few palms, or buy certain information, or happen to come across
a special weapon that appeals to me, what am I supposed to do? Forget it?"

"You know the Council won't acknowledge illegal procedures, " he growled, the sharp look back in his
dark eyes. "The more I have to camouflage them as something else, the more static I get. And since that
fund is strictly for departmental expenditures, you can't pay anything back without admitting you used it
contra regs. I go through this with you every time I have to give you access to the fund, and I'm tired of
wasting my breath. It's not as if you don't understand it as well as I do; you just enjoy giving me a hard
time."

"Me?" I protested in shocked disbelief. "I enjoy giving you a hard time? Ringer, how can you say that?"

"With no effort whatsoever," he replied in his continuing rumble, then looked at Val. "Do me a favor,
Valdon; see if you can keep her away from her usual nonsense this time. If it isn't absolutely necessary,
don't let her do anything that costs credit. "

"And I'll be sure to let him know what's absolutely necessary and what isn't," I put in, glancing at my
papers and reservation slip before sliding them and the proof into a pocket of my ship's suit. If it hadn't
been unwise, I would have laughed aloud.

"That's a good point," Ringer said immediately, seeing through my comment to the heart of the problem.
"Valdon doesn't know enough about the Federation to get along on his own if you two get separated. I
think you'd better let him learn as much as he can on the liner to Xanadu O.S., doing the ordering and
paying and such. You can tell him what to expect, and by the time you get to Xanadu he'll have had
enough experience to get by on."

"The ordering and paying and such," I repeated with a half-hearted grin. "Anything you say, O chief, O
Fearless Leader, O Master of my Destiny. What about our clothes?"

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"Yours are in your luggage waiting to be sent to the liner," he answered, giving me one of those lowered-
eyebrows looks for my wise-guying. "As far as Valdon is concerned, we'll buy him what he needs here
on the Station. There's just enough time to have it made up before the shuttle docks. And before you
bother me about it again, here."

He reached into his jacket again, but what he came up with this time was my idea of a real welcome-
home gift. It was one of the two matched, specially made throwing knives I usually carried, complete
with sheath, and I took it even faster than I had activated the credit proof.

"Bless you, Ringer, you always know how to treat a girl right," I told him with a glance and a grin,
easing the blade out of its sheath to check it. Six inches of razor-sharp mirroring plus hilt gleamed back
at me in the glow of a nearby chandelier, a sight I'd had occasion to miss once or twice in the last few
months. "The other one's in my luggage?"

"Other one?" Val asked, an interested appreciation in his eyes for the weapon I held. "You mean you
have more than one like that?"

"This is one of a matched pair, and I don't lend them out," I said with finality in my voice, setting the
blade back in its sheath as I looked at my partner. "If you want a set of your own, have them made the
way I did."

"It doesn't much matter how many of them there are," Ringer put in while Val grinned at my
possessiveness. "Those cover I.D.'s I gave you won't let you carry weapons on you down to Xanadu,
Valdon, so Diana will put that one away with its mate in a place in her luggage where it won't be found.
If you've got anything that will raise eyebrows in a customs check, you'd better let her put it in with the
rest."

"I didn't bring any weapons with me," Val said. It wasn't hard to see he was. telling the truth-not to
mention the fact that I'd checked his belongings during the trip. Val hadn't come to the. Federation as a
peace emissary, he'd come to work with a Special Agent; making the trip unarmed just about shouted
how good he thought he was.

"I don't know about you, but I feel a good deal safer over that," I said to Ringer, only glancing at Val. "If
you'd seen him using a sword on Tildor, you would not be very anxious to have him handling any other
weapons."

"She means I didn't go around trying to skewer everyone in reach, unlike some people I could mention,"
Val came back, dryly. "If we can't carry weapons openly down to Xanadu, why wasn't that one left with
its twin? Why did you have to bring it along and give it to her now?"

"They're not fussy enough on this Station to give her a hard time over it," Ringer answered with a shrug,
clearly unwilling to go into details about the various usages a Special Agent put a knife to. "I knew she

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wouldn't care to wait until she could get to her luggage, so I brought one along for her. She always
claims she feels naked without a knife."

"You spoil her like that and then complain when she gives you a hard time?" Val asked, still enough
amused to cause Ringer to stiffen very slightly. "If there's something she really wants, make her behave
herself before she gets it, otherwise don't let her have it. She might not like it, but she's bright enough to
learn to go along with it if she has to. It should save you some headaches."

"That doesn't apply to the knife, but you may be right," Ringer said with something of a nod, letting the
stiffness disappear as he turned his head to look at me. "Why don't you try making her behave herself
during this assignment, and then we can talk about it. Also let me know if you figure out a way of
keeping her from something she really wants; I haven't been able to come up with an answer to that one
in nine years of trying."

The look in his eyes was no more than one percent wistful as he watched me stand up to fit my knife
sheath into the slot in the right side of my ship's suit, a place that put the hilt handily close to my palm.
The slot was meant for a tool a lot more innocuous than a knife and was almost too narrow to take the
sheath, but a moderate amount of forcing did the job and let the knife slide clear of its covering without
the sheath coming with it. No one would bother me about carrying a knife on a Station that orbited a
raw, young world like Faraway, and that was probably a very good thing. Val's comment had annoyed
me, and the only thing that had kept me from telling him what to do with himself had been the fact that I
usually made it a point not to start fights when I felt annoyed and had a weapon in handy reach. That
Ringer had acknowledged his idiocy even so far as to give him a sardonic approval of whatever he came
up with added to my annoyance, something Ringer could see as he followed my example and stood.

"I think we'd better get those clothes bought for you, Valdon," he said, sharp-eyed gaze warning me to
keep on being smart and letting it lie. "You ready, Diana?"

"Not for the heart-stopping excitement of clothes shopping, I'm not," I said, ignoring Val's frown as I
reached down to my monolon bag. "Now that you have room in your pocket, you can take these papers
off my hands. You two have fun getting Val all decked out, and I'll meet you in the docking area about
fifteen minutes before the shuttle is due in. "

I handed over the stack of Absari greetings into Ringer's willing hands and began to turn away from the
table while trying to close the bag again, and suddenly found myself on the verge of running into Val.
He'd gotten out of his chair at almost the same time Ringer had, and only needed a step or two to put
himself directly in my path.

"You can't really have anything so urgent to do that it can't wait a few more minutes," he said, looking
down at me with those eyes. "It won't take me long to decide on what I want, and then we'll all go where
you want to go."

"Without making me earn the privilege first?" I asked with what was supposed to look like monumental

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surprise. "Shame on you. Are you trying to spoil me?"

"If I was, I'd be too late," he came back calmly. "If you're going to get mad at me again go right ahead,
but at least try not to misquote me. I said you ought to be made to behave yourself before getting what
you want, nothing about earning privileges. There was very little wrong with the way you behaved while
we were sitting here, so there's no reason not to let you go wherever you like once those clothes are
taken care of. Which, as I said, will only be a few minutes, especially if you come along and give me
some advice on color and style."

"Ringer can give you whatever advice you need," I told him, having no trouble resisting what he seemed
to consider irresistible bait. "Since you apparently think I ought to be denied things, you should be
pleased that the first thing I'm going to deny myself is the inexpressible pleasure of your company for a
while. Besides, if I came along I'd be far too tempted to make sure you looked even dowdier than Ringer
will make you look. Try not to miss the shuttle, or I'll be brokenhearted. "

I gave him a cheerful little wave to go along with the reassurance I'd already given him, then turned and
walked away from the frustrated annoyance he was making no effort to hide. Ringer had excellent taste
when it came to his private, non-business wardrobe, but after what I said Val would never be able to
make himself believe it. He'd try to judge alien styles and material all by himself, unconsciously
discounting whatever advice Ringer gave, and would end up looking like someone who was all opinion
and no taste. Val understood the spot I'd put him on, and also understood that knowing about it would
not get him off it again. He'd end up unhappy with whatever he got.

When I walked out of the bar, I paced along the corridor until I found a cluster of shops to do some
browsing of my own in, but the near-emptiness of the Station was too much of a distraction to make
anything appealing enough to buy. Despite Ringer's worries I wasn't in a mood to throw away
departmental funds, and I didn't care for the dismissive looks I was getting from the shops' salespeople.
For some reason they were writing me off as a no-sale after a single glance.

The cluster of shops included a small shop catering to junk food, and I suddenly discovered that that's
what I'd missed most all those months I'd been away. My appetite did flipflops at the first sight and
smell of the mouth-watering garbage, and I spent a few minutes stuffing my face with more pleasure
than I'd felt in a long while.

The immense docking area wasn't much changed from the way it had looked a few hours earlier. The
right side of the Station was reserved for incoming liner shuttles, the colored lights around the bays
coming on and blinking at the first approach of the shuttle and continuing on that way until it left the bay
for the liner again. The left side of the Station was for private ships which, of course, included navy
shuttles, which were usually as large as private ships. The lights overhead and all around were bright
without glare, clearly illuminating the two blinking shuttle bays and the one new private ship that had
come in. Two blinking bays out of eighteen, four private ship slips filled out of fourteen, and less than
two hundred people in an area designed to hold the traffic from maximum filled shuttle and slip space. It
looked like Faraway was destined to continue as a ghost station until that sector of space filled up a good

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deal more and the frontier moved out past it.

I continued my amble into the docking area and down the center, idly glancing at the rows of empty
waiting-seats, uninterested in them despite the added weight of books in my monolon bag. I had almost
reached the spot when footsteps sounded behind me, and I turned to see Val and Ringer coming up.
Ringer looked just as he had a little while earlier, but Val was no longer wearing his cobalt-blue base
uniform. He'd traded it for a pair of dark slacks, a blue-green wide-sleeved shirt, dark loafer-like shoes,
and an expensive-looking ,woven-metal neck chain of gleaming, silvery stellenium. He looked a hell of
a lot better than an absolute stranger had any right to look, but I made sure not to let the opinion show on
my face.

"Looks like we both decided to get here a little early," I said to Ringer. "Too bad the shuttle won't do the
same."

"Just be glad you timed it so well," Ringer answered, glancing around at the twenty-five or thirty people
sitting in waiting-seats not too far away from us. "If you'd come in too late for this liner, you would have
had to wait more than a month for the next, or you would have had to take that ship in closer to Xanadu
than was smart. It wasn't hard getting the Station officials here to neglect checking the registry on your
transportation, but almost anywhere else the request would have had to be through channels more public
than we would have liked. We need as much quiet on this as we can manage, for as long as possible."

"Until we spot the busy little eyes and ears at work," I nodded, glancing around the way Ringer was
doing, automatically checking that no one had too much interest in our conversation. "But if we were
really up against it, we could always take your ship. A month off wouldn't disagree with you, would it,
Ringer?"

"On Faraway Station?" he asked with a growl of ridicule. "If I have to be stranded somewhere, it isn't
going to be a place like Faraway O.S. I left that behind me a long time ago. Let's sit down for a while, or
it will feel like that shuttle is never coming. "

Ringer started for an empty section of seats in his usual way, without checking to see if anyone was
following, but this time I didn't get the immediate choice of joining him. A big hand took my arm before
I could turn, nearly crushing my sleeve despite the lack of deliberate muscle in the grip, and I looked up
to see Val's calm appraisal.

"You haven't said anything about how dowdy I look," he observed with a hint of amusement. "I'm sure
it's as bad as you expected it to be, if not a good deal worse."

"It was clear he knew he didn't look dowdy at all, and it was also clear he expected me to do anything
but admit it.

"Why, not at all, Val," I protested in very sincere tones, a friendly little smile backing the words. "You
look just fine, you really do, and Ringer must have been very pleased with the amount of money you

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saved the department. Keep it up, and you and he will get along just fine."

"So you've decided to keep on being mad at me," he said, a compromise between doubt and annoyance.
"How long do you intend keeping it up?"

"Oh, I never get mad at the men I partner with," I assured him. "We'll do just fine working together-but I
hope some of those clothes you got are warmly lined. If you don't manage to score elsewhere during
your off-hours, you'll need them. "

"If being an irresponsible brat is one of your criteria for being an agent, I won't be qualifying," Val said
with a look of scorn. "If she considers you off-limits and leaves you out of it that's your good luck, but I
intend getting a piece of it. When I get through with her, I'll be even more off limits."

''She doesn't consider me off-limits," Ringer said with a frown of sudden revelation, turning his head to
look at me. "She gives me the same hell she gives everyone else, but just stays out of my way a little
longer. For nine years, I've been thinking of that as a compliment."

"Some compliment," Val snorted, but more in sympathy than in derision. "In case you're wondering, the
footprints don't look any better on your face than they do on mine."

"If you two don't watch it, you'll be comparing scars and discussing operations next," I broke in,
beginning to wish I'd left Val where I'd found him. Ringer was getting bent out of shape by his prodding,
and I was getting tired of hearing that same song and dance.

"You see?" Val incited, and now both of them were looking at me. "She doesn't have any regrets over
what she did, to either one of us. If something isn't done, she never will learn to behave herself."

"You know, Valdon, I have a feeling you're going to be the first to get somewhere with her," Ringer
growled. "Because of that, I think I'll start you off with a little help."

Ringer may have been nine years away from the life of an active Special Agent, but his reflexes hadn't
slowed enough to make that much difference. Before I could draw my legs in or unfold my arms, he had
pulled my knife out of its sheath and was holding it in his right hand, too far away for my belated grab to
do any good. He moved it even farther away when I tried to reach past him.

"Don't even think about trying it," he warned, his dark eyes sharp with decision. "If you wanted to keep
this, you should have behaved yourself the way Valdon said. Now I'm going to give it to him, and if you
want it back you'll have to square accounts with him. It just might help to teach you to be a good little
girl next time."

"I am a good little girl," I told him, not amused. "Especially with knives-or aren't you remembering
anything that isn't convenient'? This is absolute stupidity, Ringer, and if that big jerk hadn't gotten you
hot on purpose you never would have done it. If you try giving him my knife, for however long, I just

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may decide to let him meet its twin."

"The big jerk is willing to take that chance," Val interrupted before Ringer could answer me, just short
of a chuckle despite what I'd called him. "Put it in that bag she was carrying, Ringer, and I'll take over
the carrying. Just how important is it to you to get it back, Diana?"

He was really enjoying the game he was playing, even more so than Ringer, but I'd had a lot more
experience at that sort of thing.

"Important's the wrong word, Val," I said with a casual shrug. "If you'll feel safer with the knife out of
my hands for a while, go right ahead and carry it for me. All I ask is that you make sure not to lose it; it
has great-sentimental value for me. And I'll probably need to use it again some day."

I let my eyes laugh at him, then turned away from them both with only a neutral glance for Ringer. The
bossman was putting my knife in the monolon bag I'd been carrying, bracing it in and protecting the bag
from it with the books I'd bought. Ringer had ignored the little speech I'd given Val, but Val couldn't
ignore it. It annoyed him that I'd suggested he was afraid of me, and whether it was trite or not had no
bearing. Under the rules I'd forced on him, the only way he could prove it would be to return the knife.

I spent the rest of the waiting time for the liner shuttle moving calmly around the immediate area,
enjoying my relaxation, but getting more impatient with every passing minute. There's nothing like the
feeling of starting a new assignment and despite my personal stake in this one, I'd make sure it was
handled professionally all the way. Val and Ringer spent the time chatting, and when the lights started
blinking to announce the approach of the shuttle, they left their seats and came over to join me, Val
carrying both his bag and mine. If I'd expected him to hand over the bag then, I would have been
disappointed. He was still determined to do things his way, not yet knowing that game time ended as
soon as an assignment started. I nodded pleasantly at Ringer when he told us to enjoy ourselves, then
went with Val to find a place on the line that was forming.

It didn't take long to get to the liner, which was definitely a good thing. As soon as the shuttle reached
the Station I'd forgotten all about the silliness that had gone on before, but our fellow passengers hadn't.
The looks they gave Val were on the chilly side, and there was altogether too much whispering and
sideways glances. That public notice I'd been trying to avoid hadn't been avoided, and now we were
surrounded by a bunch of narrow-eyed spectators. I didn't much like the idea, but if we couldn't avoid
the small horde once we boarded the liner, we'd have to stay in our cabins until we . reached Xanadu.

Putting our reservation slips into the backs of the seats in front of us on the shuttle programmed the
directional rods sitting in the slots to the right of each seat back. Once the shuttle had sealed into the
liner we took the rods and left our jolly traveling companions without a backward look, which
undoubtedly caused more comment but at least got us out of there. Ringer had reserved two single
cabins for us, the sort that had a communicating door, and the corridor was empty when the directional
rods blinked rapidly to show we'd reached our destination.



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"If you're ever outside a cabin and want to let whoever's inside know you're there, press that tab," I told
Val, indicating the door annunciator as I slid the key end of the rod into the door lock. "The key you'll
use for the rest of the trip is inside your cabin, next to the rod-return slot. You'd better use your rod key
before it stops blinking, or you'll need the purser to open the cabin for you."

Val nodded and went to his own door, and once he got it open I went into my cabin, already working on
a mental list of all the things he'd have to be shown how to use or do if he wasn't going to draw
unwanted curiosity. The reality of the project was well-nigh staggering, considering the number of
things there were for him to learn, but somehow we'd have to get it done. It helped that he was
intelligent, but we'd probably have to resort to a few dodges anyway to avoid notice.

"The cabin is open and the bags are inside," said a voice from behind me, causing me to turn. "I only
gave it a quick glance, but I didn't see any keys or rod-return slot. "

"They're here, behind the door," I answered, gesturing Val in before swinging the door shut. "Just
remember always to look over your shoulder before saying something like that. There are people in this
Federation who have never traveled, but you're not supposed to be one of them. If you get caught in an
awkward situation, shrug it off by saying you're more used to traveling by private ship than liner, and
can't seem to get liner protocol straight. You may get laughed at, but that's better than having a finger
pointed at you. Take a few minutes to look around your cabin, and then we'll start teaching you what it
was you were looking at."

I turned away from him and headed for my luggage, which was stacked to the right of the small double
bed, in front of the cabin's built-in drawers and closet. The cabin was relatively crowded, with only two
soft chairs and a small square table to the left of the cabin door, the bed to the right, and the tiny
bathroom also to the left, beyond the chairs and table. Val's cabin was to the right of mine and was
probably exactly the same, up to and including the dark gold and deep green of the decorations. Ringer
was watching the pennies again by putting us in cabins like these, but once we got to Xanadu O.S. those
pennies would be gone, along with lots of their brothers and sisters. No one with money took third-class
accommodations, and no one went to Xanadu without money. On Xanadu O.S. and the planet itself we'd
have roles to protect, and Ringer might grumble but he'd never be able to deny it.

"I would not mind at all knowing what I was looking at," Val said slowly from his place near the door,
sounding perplexed. "Are you the same female I've been traveling with for the last two months, or did
somebody pull a switch while I wasn't looking?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, looking up at him from the place I'd plunked down on my knees
on the deep green carpeting, in front of the big trunk Ringer had packed for me. That trunk took some
opening, and I wanted to get as close as possible to it before starting.

"I'm talking about the way you're suddenly treating me," he answered, closing the few steps between us
to crouch down next to me. "No sarcasm, no put-downs, no arguments, or fancy stories or looking right
through me. You actually sound as though you might be dealing with another thinking being instead of a

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patsy. I'm certainly not complaining, but I'd like to know what brought on the change. "

"Our being on assignment brought on the change," I said, looking up into curious black eyes with none
of the amusement I felt showing. "Once the flag goes down there's no more game-playing, at least not
between ourselves. Unless, of course, you don't much care if you survive. If you find yourself falling
into that kind of mood, let me know and I'll take it alone from there on."

"That's better," he said with a grin, reaching out to brush some hair out of my face. "With at least the
sarcasm back in place, you're recognizable again. Are you telling me that as long as we're on
assignment, I don't have to keep looking around for the direction the next attack will be coming from?"

"Considering the assignment you might want to put that another way, but you've got the idea," I agreed.
"Right now watch how I open this, and plan on memorizing the sequence. This luggage knows how to
protect itself, and if you use the wrong sequence after I open it initially, it'll feed you an electrical charge
any time you try working on it after that until I can key it again. If I don't happen to be around to do the
keying, you're permanently locked out. Now, watch."

The main lock of the trunk was keyed to my brain wave pattern, and once I'd put it on passive alert I was
able to open the secondary locks. The sequence wasn't something Val would learn in five minutes, but
seeing it done right would help him to learn to do it on his own. The end of the sequence left nothing to
do but unfold all four quarters of the trunk, and Val had to help after the way Ringer had stuffed it. He
found its weight surprising when he saw the relatively small amount of clothing, then stared with sudden
understanding when I thumbed back the first of the false sides.

"That's a Mark IV blaster, heavy enough to burn a hole through anything living as well as uncounted
numbers of thick, inanimate surfaces," I said, pulling the blaster out of its niche to check its charge level
before pressing it back in place. "That small gun next to it is a stunner, adjustable beam and adjustable
level, no charge leakage and automatic shielding against back-jumping. The empty space to the right
used to hold a dart gun, but darters are unreliable and even the best of them will jam, usually at the worst
possible time. I won't carry one again, but some people swear by them. Your best bet would be to wait
and try one, then make up your own mind. "

"You seem prepared for anything up to and including a major war," Val commented when I closed that
compartment and opened and began explaining about the one with pinhead mines, fingernail grenades,
blinding spot flashers and inward exploding stick-ons. "How much of this do you expect to be using on
Xanadu?"

"If we're lucky, we won't be using any of it," I said, closing that compartment and opening the next.
"Xanadu's security is fairly tight, but any security system can be breached if you go about it in the right
way and you know their blind spots. We'll play it by ear until we see whether there have been any major
changes since the last time the system was mapped."

"Now, that I recognize," Val said, pointing to one of the knives I'd just uncovered. "With all the rest of

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that stuff, you probably don't even remember I have the mate to it."

"I remember," I answered shortly, then pointed to the thick, smoky blade in the third niche. "That one is
completely non-metallic and won't register on any alarm systems, and it takes and holds a better edge
than steel. It's only drawback is that it can't be balanced as well as my other knives, so throwing it from
farther away than six feet is a waste of effort. For six feet, you might as well keep it in your hand. That
last knife there is a set-up, so don't touch it unless you need its particular quirk. If you grab it hard, as
you would if you were about to bury it in someone, the blade will come back into the hilt and spread out,
slicing into whatever's wrapped around the hilt. Since you want that to be someone else's hand rather
than your own, don't get it mixed up with the rest of the hardware."

"I think you can take my word that I'll remember," Val said, peering closely at the knife. "What's in the
last compartment?"

"Odds and ends and something you especially have to know about," I answered, opening the last section.
"That little piece of metal is a magnetic lock pick, the dark strand next to it is a strangling cord, and that
shielded coil is monomolecular ambush thread. Don't ever touch it with your bare hands, or you won't
have any hands left. The rest of it I can show you some other time; over here is the device you have to
learn how to use."

I pulled the telelink out of its nest and handed it to Val, watching as he turned the thick black circle this
way and that, trying to figure out what it was. He made no effort to touch either of the two contacts in
the middle of the round face, which was commendable caution on his part.

"That device is called a telelink, and is currently used by no one but my department," I told him, settling
back on my heels. "It's range under normal circumstances would be quite limited, but it doesn't operate
under normal circumstances and you're not cleared for the circumstances it does operate under. The only
thing you have to know is that it's your direct line to departmental headquarters."

"This?" he asked with a glance at me, a frown for the palm-sized device in his hand. "How can this
possibly reach other star systems?"

"As I said, you're not cleared to know that," I said, not blaming him for not liking the answer. "Just take
my word for the fact that it does. In order to open the link to headquarters, press one of the contacts; to
cut the link, press the other contact. When you get through, your vid will form in the air just above the
link's rim. When Ringer's on Hidemite, where our H.Q. is, the link will give you to him directly; when
he's not, someone there will relay you through to him. Right now we're on our own, except in cases of
extreme emergency."

"Because of that leak they haven't found yet." He nodded, handing back the telelink. "The only question
I have right now is, why are you showing me all this? It's almost as though you're getting me ready to be
on my own."



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"In a manner of speaking, I am," I agreed, putting the telelink back where it belonged. "This assignment
should be no problem at all, but I'd hate to tell you how many agents have been finished off by no
problem at all. I'm the one who brought you here, and I don't want you suddenly abandoned in a strange
neighborhood with no idea of which way to go. If anything slips, you'll at least be able to reach Ringer."

"If anything slips, I'll be right there next to you to catch it," he said with what was nearly an angry
growl. "I appreciate the emergency training, Diana, but I don't expect to be using it. Just make sure you
don't leave that trunk open, and all that stuff will be there for both of us to use. "

"Under normal circumstances, it doesn't matter whether I leave it open or not," I said. "The outer
security system is supposedly to protect the expensive jewelry I carry, and if a customs official wants to
inspect the inside, there's no reason to stop him. He won't find anything."

"How could people not find anything?" Val demanded, pointing to the trunk. "They couldn't possibly
miss all those things you just showed me."

"Is that so?" I asked with a grin, shifting over on the carpeting. "If you think there's something there
besides clothes and jewelry, show it to me."

The expression he sent ,me was ridiculing, as though he knew I was trying to put one over on him, only
he wasn't about to allow it. He moved his crouch closer to the trunk, put his hand on one of the
compartment covers-and slid it back to show six lines of very expensive earrings.

"And every bit of it is real," I told him. "It has to be, or I'd, have no real excuse for the elaborate security
system I use. Would you like to try the other compartments?"

"Not really," he said, matching the grin I'd shown earlier. "I'd probably find more of the same. There's a
special way of opening those compartments, I take it."

"Like this," I said, closing the one he'd opened, then placing my fingers with exaggerated care. "Your
index finger goes on this little star first, then you catch the slide post with your thumb. Only then do you
place your smallest finger on this snowflake, making sure your other fingers aren't touching anything.
Then you slide it open in the normal way."

The compartment now showed weapons again, and Val had no trouble bringing the same up on the end
compartment. It was a simple little trick, but it kept snoops, official or otherwise, out of places they
didn't belong. I closed my compartment again and so did Val, then I climbed to my feet.

"You'd better get your cabin closed before we go into anything else," I told him, kicking off my deck
shoes and starting to open my ship's suit. "If someone walks off with my knife, I'll take it out of your
hide. We'll continue with the lessons after I've had a shower."

I left the ship's suit where it fell and headed toward my bathroom, paying no attention to the way Val

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was looking up at me. I recognized that look from the two-month trip we'd so recently completed, but as
I'd told him earlier, play time was over and business was our first concern. The bathroom was really
small as far as liner accommodations go, but the shower cubicle was more than twice the size of the one
I'd used so long on the ship, and it felt downright spacious. As soon as I had the door closed I turned the
water bar on, and then was again standing under a falls on a planet with air and sunshine and open
spaces all around.

I was just about ready to add soap to the water when the cubicle door opened, startling me. I began to
turn automatically toward I-didn't-know-what, when a big, naked body squeezed its way in, pushing me
toward the cubicle's far wall.

"I closed my cabin and your knife is still perfectly safe," Val said, looking down at me through the
warm, streaming water. "Just to be sure, though, I brought my hide back in case you had any other use
for it."

"Val, we're on assignment now," I said in exasperation, pushing my wet hair back so that I could look up
at him. "From now on we have business to consider, and mixing business with pleasure is . . . . "

"One way of making business more pleasurable," he interrupted, moving even closer and putting his
hands to my arms. "Have I ever told you how good you look soaking wet?"

"No, you haven't," I muttered, discovering that it was impossible to back away from those caressing
palms. "As a matter of fact, I could have survived without hearing it this time. Val, you have your own
shower in your own cabin, and I'd appreciate it if . . . . "

"We use that next time," he murmured, sliding his hands behind me to pull me against him. "I can't see
any problem with that, but only if it's as nice as this one. This shower is so-soft. "

That all depended on how you looked at it. From my particular point of view there was nothing soft at
all, not the big, wet body I was pressed to, not the thick, wet arms holding me, and especially not the
very evident interest that was searching me out. My hands went to those arms as my breasts pressed into
wet, black chest hair, and I looked up into deep, unwavering black eyes.

"Val, we're on assignment," I nearly begged, silently damning the fact that once those hands touched me
I was a goner. "You can't . . . "

"Walk away from it now," he interrupted for the third and last time, tightening the hold he had on me.
"But if you want me to, I will, Diana. Tell me you want me to walk away and I'll do it."

His head came down in the pouring water, and his lips made sure I wouldn't be telling him anything for
a while. I put my arms around his neck as his hands began moving all over me, the sensations I felt
forcing me into demanding his lips as strongly as he was demanding mine. I knew I was a damned fool
for not standing my ground, but after all, he was already there . . . .

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CHAPTER 4

Our travel time to Xanadu O.S. disappeared behind hours of work getting Val prepared for what would
be coming at him in the course of a normal, uneventful day. The hardest part turned out to be figuring
out what he didn't know, which could be something as insignificant as how to press an annunciator tab,
all the way up to handling a planet-bound or atmosphere vehicle. We took care of the driving and flying
parts by deciding he was much too good to do his own menial labor, and also added him to that large
group of Federation citizens who knew nothing about Federation politics and cared even less. "Why
would I care?" became an integral part of his vocabulary of phrases, but that didn't cover things like
making phone calls, knowing how much to tip human servants, or using public bathrooms. Everything I
took for granted and did without even thinking about had to be examined, and then we ventured out of
our cabins to find things we'd missed and practice ones we hadn't. By shifting our day-night schedule we
avoided most of those people we'd taken the shuttle with, and thereby avoided the trouble my cute idea
could have brought.

Or, at least we avoided most of it. The majority of our shuttle companions stayed with the schedule
they'd been following on Faraway Station, shifting only slightly to accommodate themselves to the
nearest major liner schedule. Val and I took a minor schedule, eating at the tail end of the six-hour meal
slot of whatever meal we were having, and then wandering around the ship during the time Faraway
people would be sleeping through their "night." During Faraway "daytime" we did our own sleeping-as
well as one or two other things that my partner considered essential to his health and well-being. He
laughed off my few half-hearted attempts to keep him on his own bed by saying the assignment would
not really start until we reached Xanadu O.S., then distracted me with a question on something
important. His casual taking over direction of my in-bed activities annoyed me, but there was no time to
argue the thing through with him. We needed every minute we had for getting him acquainted with
Federation ways, and I decided that once we were on Xanadu and out of each others' laps, closing the
door in his face would be a lot easier. The distraction he provided bothered me, but once I began closing
in on my target, no outside distractions would have a chance of getting through to me.

"That assignment is more important to me than I am," I said, lowering myself into a seat with my back to
the man who insisted on being my partner. "Some people call it dedication, but most have trouble
understanding the attitude. They've never been in the sort of situation I'm usually in, you see, where
hundreds or thousands of lives can be lost if I screw up. That sort of thing makes you very dedicated
very quickly, and the attitude carries over even to assignments -like the one we have now. It isn't a habit
I'm willing to try breaking, so if you're feeling put-upon you can ask Ringer to find you another partner.
I prefer working alone anyway."

I kicked off my deck shoes and pulled my feet up into the chair, finding it just wide enough to let me sit
cross-legged as ,I usually- preferred doing. There was a thick, unresponsive silence behind me, the sort
of silence my "uncaring" attitude toward my co-workers often brought me, and then Val came around to

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stand in front of my chair.

"Most people don't understand dedication," he said very quietly, drawing my eyes up to the sobriety
looking down at me. "All they understand is how hard it is to live with someone who has it. And there's
no question about it being hard. I'm sure you don't run into many who are willing to put up with it."

"No, you don't," I answered shortly, looking away from him again as I wondered why he needed such an
elaborate preface to announcing that he'd rather partner with someone else after all.

"It sounded as though you'd made that same offer to other people at other times," he pursued, still trying
to lead up to it gracefully. "Many of them take you up on it, did they?"

"Enough," I said, looking around the cabin as I began feeling bored and a little tired. It was almost our
"night," and the thought of sleep was starting to be appealing.

"Enough to make you feel that working alone is the better bargain?" he asked, still relentlessly pursuing
whatever point he was trying to make. "Enough to make you expect the offer to be accepted more often
than it's turned down?"

"Look, Val, being one of the majority isn't something that should upset you," I said, getting abruptly out
of the chair while still looking around the cabin. "I know it's shattering to the male ego to learn that a
female considers other things more important than him, but you'll get over the shock faster if you admit
straight out that you don't like the idea. The admission will help you to think of all sorts of more
important things that you could be doing, and then you'll see how appealing the thought of being
somewhere else is. Before you know it you'll be a lot happier than you are now, and we can both get on
with what has to be done. Have a good night's sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

I began to turn away from him, knowing he'd find his way out fast enough once there was no one in
front of him to protest his changed position to, but a big hand was suddenly wrapped around my right
arm. I glanced up at him, really not in the mood for any more back and forth, and was surprised to see
what looked like pain in his eyes.

"I don't like the idea of you considering other things more important than I am," he said, holding both of
my arms as he looked down at me. "No other woman has ever dismissed me from consideration the way
you do, and I sure as hell don't like it. But that doesn't mean I intend walking away in disgruntlement to
soothe my bruised ego, it only means I intend doing something to change the situation. Just what that
something will be I don't know yet, but walking away won't be a part of it."

"If you're thinking of me as a challenge, you're out of your mind," I told him, making no effort to keep
the disgust out of my voice. "There have been men who looked at me that way before, their noses out of
joint because I didn't fall swooning at their feet like the rest of the female population. Their ultimate
disappointment just about crushed them, but knowing it would didn't stop me from doing it anyway.
Ruthless, they called it, and they were absolutely right. It's one of my better character traits. I'd like to go

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to bed now, so I'd appreciate your letting go of me."

"There's nothing wrong with your character that a few good, hard whackings on the backside wouldn't
take care of," he said with a faint grin, keeping those hands tight around my arms. "I'm not looking at
you as a challenge, Diana; only a boy sees a woman in that light. What I'm doing right now is trying to
figure you out, trying to stay in one piece while- I--'m doing it, and trying to decide what makes you so
different. When I have a spare minute; I'm also going to see what I can do about that so-called sense of
humor of yours. As a defense mechanism, it does more than you know. Ever since we first met, I've had
this overwhelming urge to defend myself."

His grin widened at that point, trying to show me he was kidding, but I couldn't seem to find the
wherewithal for sharing the joke. As embarrassed and as upset as he'd felt he should have turned around
and walked away, and I didn't understand why he hadn't. Without saying anything I tried to pull away
from him again, but this time he drew me close and put those arms around me.

"You said you were tired and want to go to bed," he murmured;. the words as soft as the way he stroked
my hair. "That sounds like a good idea to me, so let's do it."

"Not with you," I said in a whisper as I shook my head, tensing so quickly in his arms that they had to
tighten to keep me near him. "Not with anyone. I want to go to bed alone."

"Alone," he echoed with what seemed like difficulty, the pain that had earlier been in his eyes now in his
voice. "You've had to do most things alone, haven't you, Diana? And for so long that it's become a way
of life. Stop trying to squirm loose and push me away, you're not fighting against what you think you
are. We're going to bed together, but all I'll be doing is holding you. You can be as alone as you like-as
long as my arms are around you."

He picked me up then and carried me to the bed, got us out of our clothes and under the covers, then
simply put his arms around me again. It was warm and comfortable in those arms, his chest against my
cheek a solid, positive presence, and once he was asleep my arm stole around him to hold him the way
he held me. I couldn't say anything about what he'd done and refused to let myself think about it, but
holding back that arm just then was totally beyond me.



CHAPTER 5

The rest of our travel time on the liner wasn't long, but we took a precaution we should have taken right
from the start. In order to avoid any more trouble, Val changed himself to look like a very plain,
nondescript individual. If I'd been used to his quick-change act I would have thought of it sooner, but I
wasn't and I didn't. That time "better late than never" seemed to work; no one recognized him.

Compared, to Faraway Station, Xanadu O.S. was a madhouse. Rather than the one shuttle trip from liner

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to Station that had been used on Faraway, Xanadu required the three that every major Station did. People
left one liner shuttle and ran to a second, or took up places on a line, or sat themselves down to wait the
necessary time. Some few, with longer waits ahead of them, went to have a meal on the Station or
arrange for accommodations. People moved everywhere, including those who, like us, meant to stay for
a short while and then go down to the planet. Lights blinked, the crowd noise pounded at us, people
jostled us, and Val finally understood why we had had our last conversation with instructions in my
cabin.

We fought our way through the insanity together for a while, then split up to see to the individual chores
I'd assigned us. Since we were staying on the Station and then going down to the planet, our luggage had
to come out of bond and be checked through customs, and that was the job I had given to Val. He had
looked at me with wordless questioning in his eyes, probably wondering if I were setting him up again,
and I had had to reassure his qualms. In full truth I would have preferred seeing to the luggage myself,
but it would have looked odd having a grown man tagging idly along behind me while I did it all, and
we couldn't afford to look odd; better to take separate directions and get it all done without any fuss.

The twelve registration alcoves still had people on line in front of them despite the fact that we'd waited
for the third shuttle before coming over, so there was nothing for it but to pick one and join the crowd.
My Special Agent's I.D. could have had the Station Manager doing the registering for me, but even if
Radman hadn't taken it before kicking me off, I still couldn't have used it. No matter how quiet they
swear to keep these things word always gets out, and I preferred standing on line to giving Radman
advance notice that I was coming.

My line moved slowly forward, and everyone waiting seemed as anxious as I was to get out of the
bedlam of the docking area and into the relative peace and quiet of the Station proper. I had enough time
to wonder how Val was doing, then wondered if he'd gotten over his indignation yet. I'd had occasion,
just before we took the shuttle, to remind Val that I outranked him on that assignment, and most of the
decisions made during it would not be made by the democratic process. I let him know that if I didn't
find him up in the air when I said jump, he'd have lots of time to investigate the various means
Federation people use to fill free time. He didn't like the idea, didn't pretend that he did, but couldn't
keep pressing his arguments when the time to leave rolled around. Val, for some reason, was very used
to running things, and clearly intended extending the practice into the Federation; in case he hadn't
already gotten the message, I had a surprise waiting for him.

In time all things pass, even the line you happen to be waiting on. When the man in front of me left the
registration alcove I stepped inside, then went up to the computer outlet it held. Station computers run
everything, regulate everything, and know about everything, a normally invisible dictatorship that's
about as complete as it's possible to get. The outlet's recess took my papers with a polite purr,
acknowledging my request for a suite, but instead of a key showing up in the proper slot, the outlet
blinked twice in an odd sort of way, and my papers were locked tight where I'd put them. In all my years
of traveling nothing like that had ever happened to me, so I stood and blinked back at the outlet,
wondering if it was malfunctioning, and then a man walked into the alcove. He was tall and well dressed
in an expensive way, a sleek fifty with the polish of a professional maitre d', and as soon as he opened

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his mouth, I found I wasn't far wrong.

"I'm the Station's hotel manager," he informed me with a calming smoothness. "Can I be of some service
to you, young lady?"

I hadn't been called "young lady" in a lot of years, but I let the matter pass.

"The outlet seems to be malfunctioning," I told him, gesturing toward the machine. "It won't give me a
suite, and it won't release my papers. Do you think you can shut it off?"

"It can be shut off if necessary," he answered, walking toward the rear of the machine. "Let me have a
look first."

He disappeared behind the large, bulky outlet, leaving me to wonder what was going on. I knew damned
well that the papers the outlet held were no more than days old, but I would have taken long odds that
whatever the problem was, it had nothing to do with the phoniness of my papers. I'd used department-
issued identity papers many times over the years, and even when they'd been produced fast enough to
get them to me yesterday I'd never had any trouble with them. The only way to establish their phoniness
was to get in touch with the bureau of records of my supposed home planet, and computers weren't
programmed to do that. The problem had to lie elsewhere, but I was hanged if I knew where.

The Station's hotel manager stayed behind the outlet longer than I expected him to, and when he finally
came out he was looking thoughtful.

"Your papers show you have a traveling companion," he mused, staring at me in a strange way. "Where
is he now?"

"He's seeing to the luggage," I said, returning the stare. The question seemed totally off the point, but
there was no harm in answering. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask because I'm afraid we can't allow you to register," he answered, shaking his head regretfully. "You
are familiar with our policy on minors?"

"Of course I'm familiar with it," I snapped, losing patience with the way he kept avoiding the main issue.
"What does your policy of minors have to do with not letting me register?"

He looked somewhat unsure over the tone I'd used, and put his hand on the bulky machine next to him
as though to gather support from it.

"The outlet's biological readout shows you to be two months and thirteen days short of seventeen
standard years of age," he recited, taking refuge in unshakable facts as his eyes moved quickly over the
black jumpsuit I was wearing. "I must admit you do sound and look-ah-almost adult, but we tend to be
very careful with this sort of thing. I assure you there's been no mistake, .unless you've forgotten to

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submit your majority certification form? No? Then I think it best that we wait for your traveling
companion. Maybe he'll be able to register the two of you. "

The man leaned back against the machine looking satisfied, but I was numb with shock. Me, a minor? I
wanted to laugh myself silly over the idea, but the hotel manager wasn't laughing and solitary
amusement is too often pathetic. I thought about going to look for Val at customs, realized the computer
would already have sent for him, then stood there simply waiting until he showed up, followed by a
short, squat, luggage robot. The hotel manager brightened when he saw a real, live grown-up, something
that sent an involuntary shudder through me.

"This is my uncle, Valdon Carter," I jumped in before anyone else could say a word. "I'm sure he's old
enough to register us. Can I set it up for you, uncle Val?"

There was no way Val could have had the foggiest idea of what was going on, but he didn't blink an eye.
"Sure, Jenny," he drawled, smiling down at me fondly. "If you think you can do it right."

His fatuous answer may have been just right for the situation as it stood, but he was lucky I didn't kill
him on the spot. I took his papers without a word and substituted them for mine, set the registration just
as I had before, but this time let Val stand in front of the scanner. The idiot outlet hummed and chuckled
to itself, and seven seconds later Val had his papers back and a key to a suite in his hand.

"Welcome to Xanadu Orbital Station," the hotel manager beamed at Val. "If you'll place the key in the
lighted slot on the luggage robot, it will lead you to your accommodations. Have a pleasant stay."

Val nodded in acknowledgment, thanked the manager for his help, then gave his key to the little robot.
The robot, now prepared to lead rather than follow, took off into the Station proper and toward the
nearest elevator bank, carefully keeping to a pace that Val and I could match. We followed along after
the thing, Val casually commenting on whatever took his eye, me not saying a word, and in just a few
minutes we stood outside the door to our suite. The little robot used the key to open the door, then
trundled on through the elaborate sitting room to each of the bedrooms in turn, leaving Val's bags in the
room to the left and mine in the room to the right. It chuckled its contentment over a job well done as it
rolled out of the suite again, and I waited just long enough for the door to close before blowing up. I
cursed as I'd seldom cursed before, getting more satisfaction over volume than inventiveness, and finally
turned on a puzzled, frowning Val.

"How the hell could that be?" I demanded with a snarl. "Even if those idiots back at the outpost are
responsible for this insanity in some way, how could I be seventeen? What the hell is going on?"

"Now I understand," Val said with a came-the-dawn expression finally breaking through his confusion,
at the same time nodding his head. "You didn't know that you'd been matched to Bellna inside as well as
out, but that's the way it works. You couldn't say you'd been matched to her if you didn't have her age as
well as her features."



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"But Bellna was fifteen!" I all but shrieked, raising hands toward him that wanted to become claws.
"How the hell does fifteen become two and a half months short of seventeen?"

"Bellna was fifteen Tildorian years," he answered with such calm and reason that he came close to
losing his life for it. "Absari standard doesn't match Tildorian standard, and neither, obviously, does
Federation standard. Fifteen on Tildor must translate to just short of seventeen here."

Just that neat and simple. Your biological age has been changed, Diana. You're now a minor, Diana.
Don't worry about it, it isn't anything important. I must have stood there staring at Val for a full minute,
before turning away from him to walk to a chair and collapse down into it. Part of me wanted to rip, tear,
rend and destroy, but the rest of me was too numb to go along.

"Diana, what's wrong?" Val asked, staring at me where I sat slumped in the chair, his voice sounding
worried. "Why do you suddenly look so strange?"

"You think I look strange?" I asked, still keeping my eyes away from him. "You should feel how I feel.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't understand the problem," he protested, taking a chair across from mine. "Is it part of whatever
went on at the registration desk?"

"It is all of what went on at the registration alcove," I answered disgustedly, finally looking up at him. "I
am now registered as a minor, and if I try arranging for a majority certificate, I'll probably miss Radman
altogether."

I pulled a cigarette out of my jumpsuit and lit it, then leaned back, trying to rearrange my thinking.

"I still don't understand what you're talking about," Val broke into my distraction. What's the difference
how old you are?"

"There's a big difference," I said, finally noticing the more-than-comfortable furnishings of the suite's
sitting room. "If you want all the gory details, here they are. The Federation runs these Orbital Stations
not only for the safety of the passengers; they also expect a return on their investment. When they first
started taking guests they ran into a peculiar problem. They would register an obvious adult, and then
find out that by the standards of his home world he was a minor and not required to pay. Then they
would refuse to register someone who seemed to be a minor, and find out that the seeming minor was
actually a well-to-do, responsible citizen. It almost drove them crazy, so they decided to make a stand.
They told their member worlds that eighteen was the legal age they had decided on. If a planet allowed
its minors to travel about without restrictions, that world was responsible for paying the minor's debts. If
they refused, all liner service would be halted until they reconsidered. Conversely, if their citizens
included people who were usually considered minors, these people would have to have certificates of
majority issued to be produced on registration."



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I drew my legs up under me, and grimaced down at the nearly knee-deep carpeting.

"At any rate," I continued, almost distractedly, "the member planets screamed but eventually agreed, and
the biological detectors were brought in. Now, no minor may register without one of two things: a
majority certificate guaranteeing full payment for all services rendered, or an adult guardian
accompanying and directing them. If I had the certificate there'd be no problem-I would be registered as
an adult. Since I'm registered as a minor, I'm only allowed to move about and do things with the express
permission of my guardian, and the Station computer will keep a constant watch on me to make sure I
don't destroy the place. I can't order meals on my own, use the facilities on my own, can't even leave the
Station on my own. I'm tied hand and foot with no immediate way out."

"So that's what that `uncle Val' business was about," he said slowly, staring straight at me. "I'm your
guardian..".

"And I've got to figure out a way around it," I. agreed, as I looked about at the white and gold walls and
trimmings of the sitting room. "There's got to be an out, something I'm just not seeing, something that
won't take the time getting a majority certificate would. Just give me a few minutes to think. "

My mind had already moved into high gear, checking the file drawers of memory and rummaging
through the stacks of unclassified-therefore-unifiled bits and pieces of trivia I tended to accumulate,
looking for even one hint that might do me some good. Val said something that didn't get through the
whirling concentration, so when I pulled my mind back and looked questioningly at him, he said it again.

"Why bother?" was what he had asked, looking very comfortable in his chair. "No need to rack your
brain to get around something that's already taken care of: I'm your guardian."

"And that's your idea of a solution?" I asked with all the ridicule I was feeling. "Hasn't it come through
to you yet that that's the problem, not the solution? I can't walk around as a minor, legally required to ask
permission for everything I do. It would be too ludicrous for words."

"Why?" he asked again, and suddenly it came to me that he looked too comfortable. "It's not as if I don't
know what we're here for. If I have to be the one to get us where we're going instead of you, what
difference does it make?"

"It makes a lot of difference," I answered in exasperation, wondering why he was looking at me in such
a strange way. "You don't know much beyond the generalities of this culture; what if you get put on a
spot? And what do I do once we get down to Xanadu? Wait until we happen to trip over Radman, then
take you aside to ask your permission to execute the death warrant? Sorry, Val, but I don't operate like
that. "

"I know how you operate," he murmured, the strange look growing even stranger. "You do everything
your own way, and you go over anyone who doesn't get out of the way in time. It may be an effective
way of getting the job done, Diana, but one day you'll run into someone you can't go over, and then

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you'll be the one who's done. As I see it, you now have two choices: either forget about going after
Radman until this age business is straightened out, or start practicing the way to ask nicely for things. As
your guardian, I'll expect to see a lot of improvement in your manners."

"But I can't forget about Radman!" I blurted, feeling almost as shocked as I had at the registration
alcove. "You know I can't just turn my back and walk away, hoping I'll catch up to him some other time!
You have no idea how many lives he could ruin, even in a couple of days! And what do you mean,
practice asking for things nicely? You wouldn't-"

I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence, but I didn't have to. Val knew exactly what I meant, and
his grin showed it.

"Make you behave yourself?" he asked with a chuckle, really enjoying himself. "Have you been thinking
of me as the sort who would pass up an opportunity like this? Would you pass it up?"

I opened my mouth, started stuttering, then quickly regained control of myself. The whole thing was so
ridiculous it had gotten to me for a minute, just ,as though he really meant what he was saying.

"Val, we're on an assignment," I said with an attempt at a smile. "If you try to play catch-up games now,
you'll be putting both our necks on the line. As soon as this assignment is over you can do anything you
like to get even with me, and you'll have every right, but not now, not while we're working. You can see
that, can't you?"

"Of course I can see your point," he said with an agreeable nod, giving me a smile of his own. "Game-
playing under fire is always a dangerous pastime, one I avoid whenever possible. But that doesn't have
anything to do with our current situation. The age you register is a fact, as solid as the fact that you've
already named me your guardian. What could be more natural than my making you behave yourself, just
as I would if you really were not yet seventeen years old? Show me how that jeopardizes the assignment
and I won't do it, but first you have to show me."

"It jeopardizes the assignment-by restricting me," I said, still refusing to believe he meant what he had
said. "I have to be free to move around on Xanadu as the situation demands, following Radman's trail to
wherever he is. I can't find him by tagging obediently along behind my `uncle.' "

"But that's exactly what you have to do," he said, his tone reasonable. "You and I may know you're not
seventeen, but to everyone else around here, that's exactly what you are. How do you plan on making it
not necessary to tag along after me? You've been declared a minor; how do you plan: on getting it
undeclared?"

I just sat there with my feet under me in the light-gold chair, staring at him in silence, finally knowing
the meaning of the strange look he'd been giving me. It was, a lot like the look I'd seen in his eyes when
he'd kept me in bed during that time while the wound in my side healed, and he'd done it "for my own
good." There would have been very little chance of arguing with him then even if the Bellna presence

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hadn't been in control; his eyes said "no" at the same time his mouth did, no uncertainty, no lack of
confidence. He had decided to do that to me again, I could see, and the thought upset me more than I
would have believed possible.

"Don't think you have me in a corner, because you don't," I said after the silence. "If I can't think my
way out of this, I'll-I'll-"

"End up being a good little girl, or passing on the assignment," he finished for me, a thing he'd been
doing a lot lately. "While you're thinking, I'll order up some lunch for us. That's just about what Station
time is now, and it's been much too long since we had our last lunch on the liner. It's usually easier to
think on a full stomach."

"I'm not hungry," I told him, unfolding my feet to stand abruptly out of the chair. "And I prefer doing
my thinking in private." I turned away from him and went toward my bedroom, keeping myself from
hurrying despite the weight of his eyes on my back. I entered the room and closed the door quietly
behind me, walked over to the double-double bed and picked up a pillow, then threw the pillow as hard
as I could toward the door to my bathroom. The room was done all in pale blue and silver, normally cool
and soothing colors, but nothing short of knock-out gas could have calmed me down right then. No-.
matter how furious the idea made me, there was no getting around it: if I couldn't think my way out of
the box, I was smack up against the choices Val had mentioned. I turned back to the bed and threw
myself down across- it, then set my mind to deep-think searching.

I don't know exactly how many hours went by, but enough of them passed to allow me to know just
where I stood-or, in that case, lay. Calling the situation bleak would be like calling a feather light, an
unnecessary redundancy that was as angry-making as an intimate caress from a strange hand in the midst
of a crowd. I'd spent some time considering whether it would be possible to do anything illegally, and
had come to the reluctant decision that risking it on Xanadu wouldn't be the smartest of moves. If I
really had to I could get down to the planet without Val, but Xanadu's security set-up specialized in
catching those attempting to barge in without invitation. If they managed to get their hands on me, the
fact that I could pay my way would not alter the fact that I'd been caught in an illegality, and was
therefore, according to their laws, a criminal. Criminals on Xanadu were not treated with patience and
understanding; they were very quickly tried, convicted and sentenced, the penalty involving the
criminal, in various unpleasant ways, in Pleasure Sphere doings. That kind of thing would very likely get
me closer to Radman, but not in a position where I would be able to do anything about him. I turned on
my back in frustration, searching the blue and silver ceiling for answers, but wherever they were hiding,
the ceiling wasn't it.

"Have you come up with any strokes of genius yet?" a calm, deep voice asked, drawing my eyes to the
now-open door. Val stood there, in the same red-orange shirt and black pants he'd worn earlier, and he
didn't seem very worried.

"I've had one or two thoughts," I agreed, determined not to let him see me squirm. "The primary point
that came to me is only a belief, but it has a lot going for it. If I refuse to go along with your fun time, if

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I simply go ahead and do things my own way no matter what age everyone thinks I am, what can you do
about it? You won't simply sit back and put your feet up, refusing to do the job, because you know as
well as I do how badly it needs doing. If I had to bet on it, Val, I'd bet that you have as much of a need to
get on with it as I do. "

"You are bright," he conceded with a faint grip, leaving the doorway to come and stand over me next to
the bed. He folded his arms across his chest in a casual way, and looked down at me with amusement.
"The only thing you haven't taken into account is my own thinking on the subject. You're right in
believing I want to see Radman get his just as much as you do, but you forget that you're the only one in
the known universe who considers me helpless. If you decide you're too good to pay back some of what
you owe, I'll leave you hereon the Station and go after Radman alone."

I know my jaw dropped open then, but I just couldn't help it. He couldn't possibly be serious, but he did
seem to be. I sat up fast, and looked up at him.

"You couldn't possibly mean that!" I got out in a rush, struggling to keep some control over myself.
"You can't go after Radman alone, you don't even know what he looks like! And you don't know
Xanadu! And if you think I'd stay on this Station, you're crazy!"

"I don't have to know what Radman looks like," he answered with that damnable calm he seemed to be
trying to soothe me with. "There are people on Xanadu who do know what he looks like, and they
should be easy to find. As far as the planet itself goes, there seem to be a lot of people who don't know
it, so many that the Station has an information clip on it available for viewing. I'll have a lot of company
not knowing that world." He unfolded his arms and sat down next to me, then smoothed some hair back
from my eyes. "And this Station also has a special baby-sitting service, designed to take care of the
minor children of those who go down to the planet. The clip explained how gently they treat the older
children, especially the ones who are angry enough at being left behind to try following their parents.
Maximum security detention facilities could learn something from their methods. "

I knocked his hand away from me with a snarl and turned my back on him, so furious I could barely
think straight. How nice that he'd spent the past few hours so profitably, viewing clips that I'd taught him
how to view! I hadn't known about that damned baby-sitting service, and the thought that I could be
subject to such a thing was more than I could accept. I didn't want to be less than seventeen, and I wasn't!

"If you want to take over this assignment, there's a specified way to do it," I told him in a tone without
inflection, still turned away. "Whether or not you like it, I do outrank you, just as I outrank everyone
who isn't a Special Agent. If you want to be assignment leader, you have to face me."

He shifted silently in place for a minute, then said, "What do you mean, a specified way of taking over
the assignment? Isn't the highest ranking agent automatically the leader of an assignment?"

"No," I answered shortly, keeping my eyes on the far wall, my legs folded in front of me. "The best
fighter in the group is entitled to lead it, which is only right since most teams are combat groups. The

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one with the highest rank is usually also the best fighter, but not always; and even if he is, any member
of the group is entitled to challenge him as long as the challenge doesn't jeopardize the assignment. This
room is more than big enough, so we can start any time you feel up it. "

"I get the impression you've been challenged before," he observed, curiously. "How many times have
you lost?"

"Twice in the last nine years," I answered, finally turning to look at him. "Once when I was too badly
wounded to know what I was doing and needed to be challenged, and once when I went up against a
brother hyper-A who happened to be better than me that day. The next time we faced each other / won,
and after that we took turns as assignment leader when we happened to work together. And no, I haven't
had that many challenges over the years. Everyone I know but you is bright enough to keep from
antagonizing a Special Agent. But the fact that I have been beaten should give you some confidence, so,
let's get at it. If you want to be big boss all that badly, you just might make it."

I started to swing my legs toward the side of the bed so that I could get to my feet, but Val's arm came
up, blocking the swing. The look on his face was amused, but somehow it was different amusement than
the one he'd been showing earlier.

"I never said I wanted to be big boss." A lie if I ever heard one. "And even if I did, you know I won't
fight a female. I appreciate the offer, but it isn't necessary. There's no reason you can't handle the boss-
work-as long as you do it my way."

"Your way!" I burst out, vocalized frustration mixing with total confusion. "Why does everything have
to be your way? And how the hell am I supposed to direct an operation while trotting along in your
shadow?"

"You'll figure something out," he said with a lot of assurance and a widening grin, reaching a hand to my
hair again. "You're good at that kind of thing. And why shouldn't I want everything done my way? You
don't seem to think there's anything wrong with the attitude when it's you doing the wanting."

"Would you have done this if you didn't have what to get even for?" I asked straight out, knocking his
hand away again. "And don't hedge. I want a straight answer,"

"Probably not," he admitted without hesitation, then made the statement more positive. "Definitely not. I
don't usually take advantage of other people's bad luck-unless they've earned it. Would you like to try
denying that you've earned it?"

"What good would it do me?" I asked in disgust, gesturing my opinion of such a waste of time. "The
game is supposed to teach you to watch your backside at all times, which in turn helps to keep you alive.
If you ignore the lesson and get mad instead, you're the one who loses out. Would you like to deny
you're more alert now than before we started the trip?"



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"I don't need to be beaten over the head to learn to be alert," he snorted with a ridicule I had half
expected, leaning down to one elbow on the ice blue cover. "And especially not by the woman I'm
enjoying in bed. If no one ever taught you how unfair it is taking advantage in a situation like that,
you're about to finally learn the lesson. And now that we've got that out of the way, I'd like to know what
your choice is. "

I stared at him in silence for a minute, and if looks could kill I would have had a body to dispose of. His
grin returned, tempting me to tell him what to do with himself and then try Xanadu on my own, but the
assignment was too important. If the only way I could get it done was his way, I'd have to do it his way.

"My choice," I echoed, still staring at his grin. "If I really did have a choice, you wouldn't be enjoying
yourself so much. But I really do think you're entitled to fair warning, Val: I don't like being hustled, and
I usually make a point of getting even. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"As long as you're giving me fair warning, of course not," he said laughing softly. "I'll just return the
favor with my own warning: if I don't like the way you get even, you won't like what happens to you.
Are you ready for the ground rules of our new association?"

He was still enjoying himself so much that I could have cheerfully loosened his teeth, but I didn't have
that option. I shifted on the ice blue bed cover in frustration, trying to ignore all the roiling inside me,
then grabbed a fistful of the silk and nodded reluctantly.

"Sure you're ready." He laughed, looking at the expression on my face. "Someone would think you were
bracing yourself for the onset of torture. Just how painful do you expect behaving yourself is going to
be?"

"With your definition of it?" I asked with a grimace. "Very. Just get on with it."

"There's isn't much to get on with," he answered with a shrug, then leaned back off his elbow to tuck his
hands behind his head. "If there's something that has to be done, you'll tell me about it and I'll decide
which of us does it. If I decide there's something that has to be done, you'll do it without argument.
That's simple enough, isn't it?"

"Simple's the right word," I muttered, feeling an enormous urge to put my face in my hands and have
hysterics. "And you expect that to work."

"Of course it will work." He grinned. "Now it's your turn. Let's hear what we do first."

"First we check out the Station," I said with a sigh, stretching out flat on .my back on the bed so I didn't
have to look at him. "As soon as we knew for- sure that Radman has left for the planet, we take
ourselves after him."

"You think he might still be on the Station?" Val asked, surprised. "The possibility hadn't occurred to

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me. How do we find out if he is or not? And what do we do if he is?"

"The general computer registration will tell us if he's still on the Station," I answered, muffling a yawn.
"Most people keep their Station accommodations if they won't be on the planet very long, and the
computer lists them as non-resident when they take a shuttle. If it turns out he's still on the Station, I take
care of him and you talk real fast to keep Station security from shooting me down."

"You think they'll catch you?" he asked, and this time he sounded bothered. A second later his face was
above mine, his eyes staring down at me. "I thought you were good enough to get it done without
anyone knowing who it was."

"On the planet, sure," I said, finding nodding difficult while lying flat on my back with him hanging
over me. "I might even have managed it here on the Station-if I hadn't been declared a minor. I wasn't
kidding about the kind of surveillance I'll be under, and I don't think I'll be able to lure Madman to one
of the Station's null areas. If he's still here, I'll just have to wipe him and hope the security people stop to
ask a few questions before burning me down. They sure as hell won't use stunners on someone caught in
the act, of `cold-blooded murder.' "

"I don't like the sound of that." Val frowned, the look in his eyes showing that he was contemplating
possibilities. "If he's here on the Station, we'll have to think of something else. I'm all for getting rid of
Radman, but not if you have to go with him."

"That's one of the risks I get paid to take," I said, briefly wondering why he was looking angry. "And
don't even think about making any personnel substitutions in the executing of that warrant. Down on
Xanadu you're as likely to get away with it as I am, but Stations are Federation territory and you're not
authorized to execute a death warrant here. Even if the security force didn't shoot you down, the
Federation would take care of it for them. They don't like having people issuing and executing their own
death warrants."

"We'll have to worry about that if the question comes up," he said, looking vexed. "We'll check those
computer files first thing tomorrow, after we have a decent dinner and a good night's sleep. It' he's gone
the way I hope he is, we'll follow as soon as we can get a shuttle reservation."

"I prefer checking the files now," I said, starting to sit up on the bed. "We've wasted enough time . . . . '

"That a little more won't matter," he said, pushing me back down with one hand. "Right now I think you
can use a nap, so you won't be. yawning and falling asleep over dinner. This `day' is going to be a lot
longer than standard before it's finally over. I say you'll take a nap and then dress for dinner. What do
you say?"

"You claim you don't like that kind of language," I countered moving against the slight pressure of his
hand. "Let me up. "



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"I asked what you say, Jenny," he repeated, his voice softer than mine had been, his eyes staring down
into mine. I was being forced to do things his way, and the look in his eyes said I didn't get mine until he
got his. I really did want to give him his, but I still had that damned assignment to consider. I stirred
under his hand again, hating the way he was looking at me, then turned my eyes away from his.

"Yes, uncle Val," I got out, nearly choking on the words, so furious I could have killed with a big smile
on my face. "Whatever you say, uncle Val. Anything you like."

"Anything I like'?" he repeated in a very satisfied murmur, his hand coming to my face, his own face
moving closer. "I think I like the sound of that."

"Don't like it too much," I said, turning my eyes back to him, but making no effort to free myself. "It I
have to be seventeen, that's much too young to get involved with a man your age. Just be glad you have
your own bedroom-you'll be needing it."

He stared down at me in silence for a minute, the look in his eyes pushing at me to see how determined I
was to stick with what I'd said. If I hadn't been so furious he probably would have been able to make me
back down the way he'd done much too often in the recent past, but strong anger- has always been able
to overcome the more delicate emotions in me. I met his gaze with a look of my own, the sort of look
people had been known to grow very uncomfortable under, but all it did for him was recall his grin as he
shook his head.

"I can't have it both ways, can I?" he asked, not me but himself. "If you didn't need to learn a little
restraint so badly I would not consider depriving myself, but since you do need to learn the lesson I'll
just have to wait. It's a good thing you stayed with Bellna's appearance; I've always found brown hair
and eyes the hardest to resist. Have a good nap."

His hand moved from my face to gently brush aside some of my hair, and then he was gone from the bed
and heading for the door out of the room. I twisted around to watch him go, waited until he'd closed the
door behind him, then took a strand of my hair to chew on. After two months of living with him, it
bothered the hell out of me that I still didn't know where he was coming from. Another man in his
position would have pressed his advantage and forced me to do anything he was in the mood for, but not
Val. If he had forced himself on me, I would have been a hell of a lot happier; I could have filed him
away in the proper niche then, and once the assignment was taken care of could have happily broken
him up into small pieces. But he hadn't forced himself on me, hadn't even tried to talk me out of the
decision I'd made, and suddenly, stupidly, I was regretting that decision. For the first time in many years
I felt bewildered and somehow vulnerable, as though everything I had learned to protect myself with
was suddenly negated. I put my fingers to my eyes and rubbed hard, then got up to get out of my jump-
suit and retrieve the pillow I'd thrown. Maybe .the idea of a nap wasn't so stupid after all; if I were
asleep, at least the thoughts would stop rampaging around in my head. I took the pillow, lay down with
my arms wrapped around it, then determinedly closed my eyes.




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CHAPTER 6

The idea of a nap turned out to be terrible. My dreams were filled with unending arguments with people
who insisted on believing I was a tiny child, and the fact that everyone towered over me only helped to
convince them they were right. I woke up just as the maddening frustration was about to make me strike
out blindly in all directions, then sat for a few minutes with my head in my hands, forcing myself to
separate dream happenings from real ones. Even after I knew which way was up the depression hung on
with claws and fangs, setting me growling as I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. If nothing
else, I had to get rid of that growl; in that mood, I would have been unreasonably dangerous to those
around me even if I'd been surrounded by nothing but the spirits of Faraway.

A hot shower and leisurely air-drying took care of the growl, but stopping in front of the bathroom's
mirrored wall reinforced the depression almost to the point of tears. Sure. the face I had gotten from
Bellna was devastatingly beautiful, and sure that face and the long red hair matched well with my body;
that didn't change the fact that that face was a young girl's face, and that body registered just as young on
a biodetector. And what had Val meant, saying it was a good thing I didn't still have brown hair and
eyes'? All he could see was the Bellna overlay; why wasn't he thinking about that alone? Everything
about that simple assignment was starting to twist out of its track, up to and including my thinking. It
was up to a certain reflected redhead to set it all straight, but I watched the pretty young girl in the
mirror chewing an end of her hair, and realized she hadn't the faintest idea of where to start.

I sat down on the blue bathroom carpeting for a while, facing away from the mirror wall, and slowly,
slowly, fought my way back to a proper perspective. The idea of being declared a minor had thrown me,
and Val's messing around hadn't helped; but I was starting to come back from the shock to my normal
way of thinking. Since the minority nonsense had to be put up with until the assignment was finished, all
I had to do was finish it quick and then I'd be in the clear. After all, it wasn't as if I really was seventeen,
so what was the big deal if everyone did get the wrong idea? That was what I'd been counting on their'
doing, back when I first thought about whether or not to keep the face, wasn't it? I leaned my right
shoulder harder against the black and pale-blue-tiled wall, suddenly understanding that I would have
begun coping with the problem a lot sooner if Val hadn't been there to take advantage of the situation. It
almost seemed as if he were deliberately trying to push me off balance, as if he had more in mind than
simply getting even. What else he could be after I couldn't imagine, but a shrug dismissed the thought as
I climbed to my feet. Val was determined not to get to work until the new Station day started, but he was
determined about a lot of things. By the time he realized that going to the dinner dining room could also
be called casing the joint, it would already be done.

Putting on makeup or trying to-almost brought back the depression; the Bellna-face was so young and
innocent that nothing but the gentlest highlighting was possible. Anything more would have looked
ridiculously out of place, like a three-year-old girl wearing her mother's high-heeled shoes. I didn't
realize how much the incident annoyed me until I went to my luggage for something to wear, and found
myself digging around for one particular outfit. It was something Kate Newman, another agent, had
talked me into buying, and when I finally found it I understood what my subconscious was up to. The

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thing was a pale, shimmering electric blue body suit, slit in front from the tight, high collar down to the
navel, and so close-fitting that it would look painted on. It was also long-sleeved, with very thin, almost
invisible ties at two points across the long front diamond to keep it from gaping awkwardly open when I
sat. It was not an outfit a child would wear, and would be a statement of my position that my inner self
seemed to require. I stared at it in silence for a minute, trying to decide how wise my inner self was
being, then said to hell with it and reached for the silver high-heeled sandals and small bag that went
with the outfit.

Once I was dressed I added a silver pendant and earrings, brushed my hair, then examined the total
effect in the mirror wall. If the suit had been even a shade deeper in color it would have gone badly with
my hair, but as it was the bright, cascading red added to the overall picture. I turned a little in front of the
mirror, the cynical side of my nature sounding cat-calls in ridicule, the rest of me just short of grinning
evilly. I'd had to be talked into buying that outfit because I don't believe in waving candy under the
noses of babies and then refusing to let them have it, but right then I was more interested in soul-
satisfaction than in fair play. I looked at myself over one shoulder as I tugged gently at a sleeve cuff, ran
a smoothing hand down a shimmering hip, then turned away from the mirror and sauntered toward the
door to the sitting room.

When I walked out of my bedroom, Val was standing behind one of the white couches of the sitting
room and in front of the bar, carefully examining what he was pouring into his glass. He didn't look
around at the sound of my door opening, but he proved he knew I was there.

"You certainly took long enough getting ready," he said in a distracted voice, watching the level of the
liquid in his glass rise no more than an inch despite the fact that he continued to pour from the bottle he
held. "What in the name of the Mother of All Life is this stuff?"

"That's called ambrosia," I supplied, amused at his reaction of incredulity. "It's a graduated intoxicant,
set for the one-inch level of a glass like that. If you pour the first inch you find it light and only faintly
intoxicating, something you could drink ail night and barely feel. The next inch makes it more potent
and the following inches even more so, until you reach the point where one sip is enough to keep you
drunk for a week. I don't know how long you've been pouring, but if that bottle was full when you
started, you'd better pour some over into another glass before tasting it."

"It was full," he muttered, righting the bottle and then putting it aside for the second glass I'd suggested.
He poured over the first inch, snorted with delight as the second inch began darkening the pale rose of
the first, then put aside the initial overpouring so that he could sip carefully at the couple of inches in the
second glass. At that point I could see he was wearing a formal comp-suit of gray and black, no
indication of discomfort about him at the full ruffles at wrists, throat and shirt front. He sipped at the
ambrosia, his brows rising in surprised approval, and then he began to turn more fully toward me.

"This is really good," he approved, looking at the rose-colored fire-water that cost more than some
people earned in a standard month. "I thought it was just a silly toy, but it's really-'



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His words stopped so abruptly I thought he might have suddenly died, but there was nothing dead about
the look in the eyes that had just come to me. That look burned into me where I stood, a raging black fire
that actually sent him forward a step or two until the couch back woke him up by slamming into his legs.
He stopped then, not too happy about having to do it, continued to stare briefly, then finished off the
ambrosia in one swallow.

"I can see there are some things worth waiting for," he said at last, back in control of himself despite the
still-smoldering black fire he hadn't been entirely able to put out. "I can't complain because you did warn
me, but you're still not being very fair. I wasn't expecting to be hit below the belt, so to speak."

His grin was faint but still definitely there, something I didn't understand any more than I understood
what he was talking about.

"What do you mean, I warned you?" I asked with a frown I could feel, beginning to make my way over
to the bar where he stood. "What was I supposed to have warned you about?"

"You warned me you would get even for my taking advantage of your problem," he reminded me,
watching as I took another glass and poured over about an inch and a half of the ambrosia he'd put into
the first glass. "I thought I was on guard against anything you might do, but there are some things no
man can guard against."

I turned back to him to see that his eyes were still on me; and from that close the look in them was very
unsettling. The civilized gentleman looking down at me was aroused by what I had momentarily
forgotten I was wearing; if the primal hunter behind his eyes managed to get control away from him, I'd
have a fight on my hands.

"I don't believe in getting even that way," I told him, sipping at my drink. "I'm not silly enough to
believe that you'll be doing without just because I kicked you out of my bed, so what would be the point
in wiggling my backside in your face and then laughing? When the time comes for me to get even, you
won't be smiling. "

"I see," he said, sounding as though he didn't believe a word I was saying. "You put that thing on just to
have something to wear. It never occurred to you that with you wearing something like that to dinner,
they could serve me roast asteroid dust and I would never notice. If this isn't getting even, I don't know
what is."

"Just stick around and you'll find out all about it," I assured him, swallowing a grin at the plaintive note
he'd put in his voice, at the same time stepping back from the hand that had begun moving toward my
waist. I would have been an imbecile to let him touch me, especially since there were things that needed
doing. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"I was ready to go about three seconds after I first saw you," he said with a theatrical sigh as he put his
empty glass back on the bar. "If you're talking about dinner, though, I suppose we might as well get on

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with it. We can finish discussing getting even later, when we get back here."

In a pig's eye, I thought as I put my glass next to his, then let him head us both to the door out of the
suite with a hand in my back. I knew how he discussed things, and wasn't about to let him make me
change my mind about sleeping arrangements. I needed that assignment to be over as soon as possible,
and letting him distract me wouldn't get it done.

We took the elevator up to the main floor of the Station, but I didn't let Val head us immediately toward
the dinner dining room. I pleaded an unexpected need for the ladies' room that stood not far from the
elevator bank, got his gallant and amused permission to take all the time I needed, then went inside with
an innocent smile he would not understand till later on. There were half a dozen other women using the
larger facilities, all of whom looked at me with the widest range of expressions I had ever seen; I hadn't
the time or interest to do more than ignore them as I appropriated and locked a private stall. There wasn't
room for much in the small silver bag I carried, but the computer tap I'd brought didn't take much room,
and was disguised as a cigarette case. The master files I had to check were on the opposite side of the
wall I stood next to in that ladies' room; waiting to do it the next Station day would have been a waste of
time.

Getting through their security lock-out could have been a life-time project-if I didn't already have their
password and keys. The Station people would not have enjoyed knowing I had them, so I made sure to
tap directly into the memory file without activating any of their terminals. My tap acted as the terminal,
with the information forming in the air above it, a running list that continued on without the need for
tabbing. I could have put a direct inquiry in about Radman instead of wasting time going through the
alphabet, but all too often those lists are tapped, and I didn't want anyone knowing who I was looking
for. The name Richard Radman appeared in its turn, the non-resident designation showing right after it,
and as soon as the next complete page formed itself in the air, I deactivated the tap, put it away, then got
myself out of there. There was no way the Station computer could have kept me from tapping in, but that
didn't mean it had also refrained from signaling all sorts of alarms.

Val smiled at me when I came through the door, an encouraging sign in view of my recent illicit
activities. If there had been any hullabaloo yet, he wouldn't have looked so unconcerned.

"Well, that wasn't bad at all," he said with a grin as he walked up to me, pretending to look me over.
"And I can't tell if there's actually been an improvement, or if it's just seeing you come back that makes
this corridor brighter. "

"You must really be desperate," I remarked, keeping my voice as low as his had been as I looked up at
him. "A line like that can't have any justification but desperation, and that doesn't make any sense.
Haven't you noticed how every female in sight is looking at you? If you felt up to it, you could even get
away with handing out numbers."

He grinned deeply in acknowledgment of the truth in what I'd said, but he didn't even bother glancing at
the women and girls passing us in the corridor or standing at the various game machines the wide

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corridor held. Xanadu Station had a lot more people than Faraway had had, and most of the women were
staring at Val openly, hunger and interest and availability clear in the stares. A single nod would have
brought more than half of them to him, and that despite the tact that very few of them weren't with men
of their own.

"I don't see you accepting the invitations of all those men," he countered instead, gesturing very slightly
with his head. "If they keep that up much longer, everyone in the Station will be covered in drool. If
you're not showing any interest in them, why should I feel any differently about their female
counterparts?"

His comment about the men startled me, but one glance around showed that he was right. If the women
were ready to drop at Val's feet, the men were too busy gawking at me to notice. I could see I had made
a mistake wearing that outfit after all; for two agents on an assignment that required a large degree of
privacy, we were being noticed by more than three-quarters of the people in the Station.

"I like to take my time making a choice," I told Val, giving him a small, faintly amused smile. "And I'm
also not coming up with desperation lines. If you're waiting for me to go first, I'll let you know as soon
as I've made a decision."

"You do that," he agreed, losing his grin as he wrapped my right arm around his left and began heading
us toward the dining room. "And I'll let you know whether or not your choice meets with my approval.
If it doesn't, you might want to consider desperation lines of your own."

I hadn't understood his amusement until that very minute,. but once I did I would have pulled my hand
and my arm away from him if he hadn't been holding on tight against exactly that kind of move. The
bastard had as much as admitted that he was going to keep me celibate with his authority as my
"guardian," probably until I couldn't take it any longer and had to go to him for what I needed. He didn't
yet know me well enough to know I would go up in flames before I did that, but he would sure as hell
find it out. I closed my hand on his arm into a fist, deliberately crumpling his sleeve, and kept my eyes
oar where we were going.

The dinner dining room wasn't very far up the corridor, and was, of course, adjusted to major continent
planetary time, as was the rest of the Station. People staying in the Station waiting for their liner to
wherever they were going didn't find it necessary to adjust whatever schedule they were following, but
those going down to the planet found it easier doing the adjusting before they hit dirt. If it turned out that
their destination planetside was half a world away from the designated major continent they'd have to
adjust again, but more people went major than minor, so setting up alternate schedules was too much of
a pain.

The maitre d' greeted us with a smile then led the way to a table, taking us through a good portion of the
elegant room. Lace and crystal and soft music and expensive wines set the mood of a formal dinner
dining room, enhancing the splendor of the formal occasions.



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Val played gentleman by holding my chair for me at the cozy table we were shown to, then sat down
opposite me. A large number of eyes were on us again, male and female both, and that added to the
overall annoyance I was feeling-until I caught a glimpse of the squad of security men going by out in the
corridor. They were moving somewhat slowly and glancing at hand meters, and none of them looked at
all happy. With my tap deactivated they had no way of tracing me through it, and that upset them. They
would eventually consider the single computer null point in the area-the ladies' room-but I hoped by then
I would be gone from the Station.

"See anything that interests you, Jennifer?" Val asked in a distracted tone, clearly referring to the menu
he was looking at, a second copy of which sat quietly in front of me. The menus on Xanadu Station were
like the ones on the planet, fully holographic and smell-equipped, saving the diner from having to ask
questions about any dish he was unfamiliar with. There was even a small tasting square next to each
exotic main dish, and Val had made use of a couple of them.

"I'm not very hungry," I answered, ignoring the menu. "As a matter of fact, I'm thinking about going
straight back to the suite. "

"You can think about it all you like," he came back, throwing me a glance as the majority of his attention
stayed on the menu. "I let you get away with not eating anything earlier, but you won't be skipping two
meals. We have things to do tomorrow, and you'll need your strength."

He let his eyes rest on me longer that time, reminding the unreasonable half of the partnership that there
was a job to do. I refrained from laughing in his face, then shook my head.

"Making shuttle reservations doesn't call for too much strength," I said, looking casually around the
dining room. "Our friend has already left, so we go down after him."

"How could you possibly know that?" my partner demanded in a soft hiss, his black eyes suddenly
looking annoyed. "You haven't been out of my sight long enough to do anything on your own!"

"How long do you think it takes?" I asked with amusement for his annoyance, enjoying it the way he had
enjoyed mine. "Couldn't you see it in the brighter glow of the corridor? Or were you too busy with other,
more interesting thoughts?"

"So you did it then," he nodded, sitting back in his leather armchair, looking at me through lidded eyes.
"And he's definitely gone off the Station?"

"No question," I agreed. "Just remember to be curious about the squads of security people you see
prowling this area when we leave here. If you're not, they'll think you're guilty of something."

"I am guilty of something," he answered, still obviously annoyed. "I'm continually guilty of considering
you like other women. Maybe if I really work at it, I'll learn better. What do you want to eat?"



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"I told you, I don't want anything," I said, leaning back in my own chair, my eyes still on him. "Hunger
is well known for cutting down on the sexual urge, you see, and that should save you some trouble. If I
don't want any men, you won't have the bother of passing on my choice."

"You're too considerate for words," he said, his tone dry. "Although I can't tell you how much I
appreciate your offer, I'm afraid we'll have to forget about it for now. You've been a busy little girl, and
busy little girls need nourishment to keep them going. Unless you've decided not to be any busier."

I stiffened in my chair at the threat, furious all over again at the way he was forcing me to do things his
way, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. He was more than capable of leaving me on the Station
and going after Radman alone, just as he was hinting he would if I didn't listen to him. I didn't realize I
was sending a kill-stare again until I saw him grin, and that got me even more.

"You just wait!" I hissed through my teeth. "You have your fun now, but one day soon it'll be my turn,
and then you'll learn the real meaning of fun! If I do nothing else in this life, I will do that!"

"I've always admired dedication and purpose," he commented, the grin still there as he went back to
checking the menu. "Now let's see what we can find to strengthen those two admirable qualities. If
you're a good girl, I might even let you get a dessert."

He seemed to have no trouble ignoring the way I was staring at him, so I gave it up and switched my
stare to the delicate and intricate pattern of the Ilian lace cloth on our table. With Ilian lace no two
patterns ever came out the same, and I tried concentrating on that fascinating bit of information to take
my mind off what my emotions were doing. I was coldly furious and hopping mad and a dozen and a
half other things including outraged-but I was also beginning to be very faintly intimidated. I hated the
feeling even more than I hated what Val was doing to me, but I could no more stop it than I could stop
him. A bad precedent had been set on Tildor when Val had pushed me around as Fallan, with Bellna
doing the intimidated part. Since then I hadn't been able to think about our time in the Paldovar Village
without feeling strange, and it occurred to me that maybe Dameron's people hadn't removed Bellna's
persona from me as thoroughly as they'd believed. If that was true there was really nothing that could be
done about it, with the possible exception of brooding. I turned to one side in my chair and folded a leg
under me, then spent some time thinking about brooding.

I hadn't used the two chances I'd been given to make a food choice of my own, so I wasn't given a third.
When Val closed his menu a robot waiter glided up to our table, and in another minute it had been given
an order for two tru-steaks with all the trimmings. It was also given our drink order, which consisted of
two inches of ambrosia for Val and "something very mild" for the "young lady." I flatly refused to look
at him after that, not to mention refusing to respond to his attempts at light conversation. No man had
ever dared treat me that way before, and especially not with that "no arguments" look in his eyes.

When our "drinks" came I ignored mine, which turned out to be a damned good thing. If I'd been sipping
happily and listening politely to Val's supposedly disarming chatter, I would have missed the approach
of someone I hadn't expected to see. The man was of medium height and somewhat on the thin side, and

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I knew that thick-lipped face as soon as I saw it. John Little was one of Radman's stooges, a spotter who
usually traveled with Radman and stayed on the lookout for salable merchandise. For some reason
Radman had left him in the Station and had gone down to Xanadu alone, and now Little was coming
over to us. He stopped at Val's elbow, waited for his target to notice him, then came up with a greasy
smile.

"Excuse me," he said with the sort of cultured tones and practiced charm that usually broke the ice for
him with anyone he approached. "I saw you from across the room, and feel certain that we've met
before. I travel so often I must know half the people in the Federation. My name is John Little-do you
remember me?"

He put his hand out for Val to take, another ploy that was designed to breed flattered awe and instant
friendship, but he had apparently never tried the routine on someone like Val before. Without any sign
of hesitation Val rose easily from his chair, took the hand offered him, and looked down at a very
startled con man.

"Valdon Carter," he acknowledged, pretending not to see the way Little flinched at the mashing of his
hand. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Little, but I'm certain we've never met before. I have an excellent
memory for faces and names, and yours just aren't there. Good evening."

If Little hadn't been nursing crushed fingers, he probably would have gotten around the abrupt dismissal
Val handed him. He backed off with uncharacteristic fluster as Val sat down again, then turned and
headed back where he'd come from. I didn't make the mistake of staring openly at him at any point,
especially not after his hasty retreat, but I couldn't help but find the attempted contact fascinating to
consider.

"You did that just right, Jennifer," Val said as soon as Little was out of hearing range, amusement in his
voice. "Keep it up, and that dessert is yours."

"Did what just right?" I asked, forgetting in the distraction of my thoughts that I wasn't talking to him. "I
didn't say or do a thing."

"Exactly," he came back. "You obviously remembered that the option of approval or disapproval is
mine, and left the situation to me to handle. I hope the next one uses more imagination in his approach,
but at that he's lucky he didn't try going around me directly to you. I wouldn't have been as pleasant as I
was."

"Pleasant," I echoed, amused myself, finally understanding what he was talking about. "You thought he
came prowling by because he was on the make for me? I'm sure he noticed everything about me, but
only on a professional level. John Little's tastes don't run to my type; if it was a personal call, he was
more interested in you."

Val's eyes darkened as he struggled against outrage and indignation.

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"I don't understand why you're so upset," I added, watching him fight his way back to control with a
minimum of outward sign of the struggle. "If you're still as desperate as you seemed to be a little while
ago, it's the perfect opportunity. Don't forget, he came to you, so he isn't likely to turn you down when
you make a suggestion."

"I thought you understood my own tastes run to softness," he said at last, and there was the distinct hint
of a growl left in his voice. "And how the hell would you know what that man prefers? If he was
wearing a sign on his chest, I must have missed it."

"It's too bad you feel that way, `uncle' Val," I murmured, suddenly trying to control outrage of my own.
"Unfortunately for your tender sensibilities, John Little isn't a subject we can ignore."

Val opened his mouth to say something, argument-wise if his expression meant anything, but the robot
waiter had trundled up to our table with the food that had been ordered, cutting off all relevant
conversation. We sat there in silence while the table between us was filled with dishes, but once the little
robot was out of pick-up range, Val leaned an elbow on the table.

"If I hadn't been caught by surprise, I would have noticed sooner that you weren't guessing about a
stranger," he said, his eyes now more intent than angry. "Who is he?"

"A friend of a friend of ours," I answered, pointedly not glancing around. "But this isn't the place to
discuss it. We'll go back to our suite."

"You're forgetting something," Val said, interrupting the gathering-together-to-leave process I was
starting. "We'll finish our meal, and then we'll go back to the suite. Little Jennifer needs her
nourishment."

I looked at him sharply, my lips parting to argue, but that damned "no" was so strong in his eyes that I
threw my purse back on the table without saying a word. He was determined to make me listen to him,
and to say I was furious would just be indicating the inadequacy of spoken language to communicate
with accuracy.

Despite an excellent kitchen, that had to be one of the worst meals I'd ever had. The leather armchair I
sat in grew more uncomfortable every time something else was added to my plate, and at least one
sample of everything that had been put down ended up there. I didn't want any of it no matter how long
it had been since I'd last eaten, but Val couldn't have cared less. He callously served me everything, then
kept those eyes on me while I tried picking at it-which he refused to allow. I ended up swallowing most
of it down in tasteless lumps, so upset that nothing of this universe would have appealed to me. I hated
being under seventeen and having to listen to Val, and I was even beginning to hate him.

When torture time was finally over, I was nearly sick to my stomach. I was glad to hear there would be
no dessert-until I was told it was being withheld because I'd been a bad girl by teasing my uncle Val. At

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that point I was tempted to throw up everything he'd forced on me, right there in the middle of the dining
room, and I would have if I hadn't been so anxious to get the hell out of there. I knew it was absurd, but
it felt as though everyone in the room could tell how humiliated I felt, and was laughing over it and at
me. Look at the little girl all dressed up and pretending to be a woman, their amusement seemed to say,
the amusement I could feel even though I looked only straight ahead as Val guided me out of the place. I
wasn't pretending to do everything he told me to, I was being forced into really doing it, and the
difference between the two states was so vast it was well-nigh indefinable.

"is something wrong?" I heard Val's voice say, and looked up to see that he wasn't talking to me. The
five security men moving around near the elevator bank were the targets of his curiosity, and the captain
who turned to him gave no indication that he knew the curiosity was as phony as my supposed
biological age.

"There was a report that some children were using these elevators as a playground, sir," the captain lied
smoothly, looking Val right in the eye. "A few of our guests were disturbed, so we've been sent to see if
we. can find out who they were. We'd like to ask their parents to watch them a little more closely."

Val nodded as though everything had been made perfectly clear and his curiosity had now been satisfied,
but his play-acting annoyed me. He didn't really know what he was doing, and I suddenly had the urge to
prove it to him.

"They assigned a captain of security to look for a bunch of kids?" I asked before the captain could turn
away or Val could hustle me into the waiting elevator car. "What did they do, play the game of
execution for real?"

I was also tempted to mention the constant computer surveillance-which would have made guesswork
about anybody messing with the elevators unnecessary-but the general public didn't know how tight
surveillance was on orbital stations, and I was just annoyed, not looking to get myself noticed. For the
last, though, I'd forgotten again what I was wearing. The security captain, a broad, attractive man,
noticed me anyway, and a faint grin lit his features.

"Nothing but the best of service for guests on Xanadu Station, Miss," he drawled, letting his eyes move
over me slowly. "Children who presume are asking to be punished, and I may have to question you later
to see if you know anything about the problem. I'm sure I can count on your cooperation. "

"Of course you can, Captain," I purred, smiling slowly to let him know he'd have all the cooperation he
wanted. He really was a very attractive man, but I'd forgotten there was a fly in the ointment I'd planned
on using to grease the new friendship.

"We'll both be glad to cooperate, Captain," Val put in so smoothly he sounded more amused than
annoyed. "If you happen to call after my niece's bedtime, I'll be glad to answer any questions you might
have alone. We've only been on the Station a matter of hours, and girls my niece's age need their rest. "



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"Girls your niece's age?" the captain asked Val blankly, his grin gone completely. "What age is she?"

"Not yet seventeen," Val answered, ignoring the furious look I turned on him. "I know she seems older,
especially in that outfit, but her age was confirmed at the time we registered."

"You shouldn't let her wear clothes like that," the security man growled, looking me over again in an
entirely different way. "If she smiles like that at the wrong man at the wrong time, you could find
yourself filing rape charges on her behalf. If I were you, I'd do something to make sure that doesn't
happen."

"You're absolutely right, Captain," Val said hastily, deliberately interrupting the way I began to assure
that jerk of a security man that I could damn well take care of myself no matter what I was wearing or
who I smiled at. "I'll see to it first thing in the morning. Good night."

With his hand wrapped tight around my arm I was forced into the elevator car, and a few minutes later
we were walking into our suite. As soon as Val closed the door behind us, I rounded on him in a fury.

"That was a hell of a lousy thing to do to me, and I won't forget it!" I snapped, throwing my purse away
from me hard enough to break something if it hit the wrong way. "You just wait until you find
something you'd like to take to bed! She'll be gone so fast it'll make your eyes water! In this business
there's supposed to be courtesy between partners, partner, and courtesy means not cramping your
partner's style even if you think you have something to get even for! You don't screw somebody out of a
good time when that could be the last good time they'll ever have! In case it's slipped your mind, we're
not here partnering for laughs!"

I turned away from the sober, quiet way he was looking at me, more raw over the stupid stunt he had
pulled than I'd been when he'd only threatened it, and his next words didn't help much.

"You said we'd talk about Little when we got back to the suite," he reminded me in calmer tones than I'd
been using. "What does Little have to do with Radman?"

"Is that all you've got to say?" I demanded, whirling back to face him, outraged. "Back to business, and
to hell with everything else that's happened? Well, why not? You're not one of us, and you never will be.
Little works for Radman in the capacity of flesh expert, someone who knows immediately and almost
instinctively which bodies will and won't sell. The decision isn't as easy as most people think it is, so he
collects a nice piece of change for his efforts. I don't know why Radman didn't take him down to Xanadu
or leave him behind altogether at their headquarters; Little sure as hell can't ply his trade in this Station."

"Why not?" Val asked, opening his jacket before sitting. "For the same reason that you can't operate
here?"

"In his case, computer surveillance doesn't mean a thing," I denied with a head shake. "The only thing a
computer scan would show him doing is looking, a pastime 98 percent of the people in this Station

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indulge in. When it comes time to go for the target, it's handled by professionals in that field, ones who
know when and where to hit. No, Little can't operate here because the Management on Xanadu doesn't
want anything like that going on in this Station. Rich people avoid places that aren't safe, and the
Management doesn't want Xanadu and its Station avoided. That's why their security is so tight: to
protect their clientele. Radman has no choice but to go along with it; Xanadu's one of his biggest
customers."

"Then why did Little come over to us?" Val asked, frowning at the same puzzle that had been bothering
me. "If they can't do any kidnapping in this Station, why did he try to get to know us?"

"They may be thinking of sending a team to follow us after we leave here." I shrugged, starting to pace
around. I wasn't in the mood to sit down, not with everything I had on my mind. "What happens to
people after they leave is not the Management's concern, and Xanadu isn't the only market Radman has.
He doesn't have to worry about being embarrassed by selling the Management slaves who used to be
clients. I'd just like to know if he has anything else on mind-or if he has any intentions of joining
Radman on Xanadu. Following Little would be a hell of a lot easier than sniffing along a cold and
probably guarded trail."

"You sound like you have something in mind," Val observed, watching me where my pacing had taken
me, about two feet from where he sat. "Something to make him take off so that we can follow?"

"Not exactly," I said, partially distracted by consideration of all the possibilities my mind was
developing. "If we make him take off, there's no guarantee he'll take off in Radman's direction. If we let
him join the party, though, he'll very likely use the opportunity to let the boss confirm the wisdom of his
choice."

"What do you mean, let him join the party?" Val asked, suspicion suddenly lighting in his eyes. "You
intend asking him to come along with us?"

"No, you're the one who'll do the asking," I came back, staring down at, the agitation he was trying to
keep under control. "It would be out of character and probably a waste of time if I tried it, even if he
swung that way. You're supposed to be the head of this expedition, so the invitation has to come from
you. What's the matter, partner'? You afraid he'll catch you in a weak moment and rape you?"

The idea of Little, half Val's size, forcing Val to do anything at all was ludicrous, just as ridiculous as
the trapped expression on Val's face. The need to have Little join us came strictly from the situation as it
stood, but it suddenly struck me how funny it was. Val didn't want to have anything to do with Little any
more than I wanted to be a minor, but neither of us could do a thing to change the situation.

"Come to think of it, you might have a problem at that," I drawled, folding my arms as I looked down at
him. "You're the one who'll be making the opening move, and you can't get huffy and walk away no
matter what suggestions he makes to you. In fact, you might even have to go along with some of them.
But at least that will solve your other desperation problem."

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I made no attempt to hide my amusement, just as he had made no attempt on his own part earlier, but
equal opportunity wasn't Val's style. Without any warning he moved as fast as he had on Tildor, coming
up out of that chair and grabbing my arms with such speed that he caught me asleep at the switch. Once
he had pulled me to him he let himself fall back into the chair which, of course, ended me up in his lap.
No more than seconds passed before I started to struggle, but then those hands closed on me.

Much as I would have enjoyed it after being pulled into his lap like that, killing him had to be out. There
was no arguing against the fact that I needed him to get the assignment done, not to mention how upset
the Council would be if they found out I'd permanently punched the ticket of- the authorized
representative of another star-faring humanoid race. But just because I couldn't do it the right way
doesn't mean I simply gave up without a struggle. I'm not built to give up without a struggle, and being
grabbed like that triggered my urge toward self-protection. I managed to get an elbow into him as we
landed back in the chair, hoping to loosen his grip enough to let me pull free again, but no such luck. He
ignored the force of the blow, and then his arms were around me with his hands clamped to my wrists.

"Of all the desperate problems I have, you're the biggest," he grunted, forcing my left shoulder up
against his chest as he tightened his right arm around me, trying to get me to stop pulling against his
hands and kicking. "You don't seem to believe me when I promise you something, and that's not the way
to make this partnership work. In order to rely on what I say, you have to know my word is good. I told
you what would happen if you teased me about Little again."

"Val, stop it!" I yelled, starting to get desperate. I couldn't pull my wrists free, he had hooked one leg
over both of mine to keep me from kicking out, and he had already done the same thing to me once
before-or twice before, if you counted that brief episode at the beginning of our trip together. I couldn't
believe he would do something that mindless-and knew without the shadow of a doubt that that was
exactly what he intended.

"You could have stopped it yourself simply by making an effort to behave," he said, sounding so
damned calm that I really began to worry. "If I tell you I don't care for something, the information's
supposed to tell you to let it alone, not that it's perfectly all right to continue to ride me."

"But it's just fine if you ride me!" I came back, a little mad moving in with the worry. "You were fast
enough taking advantage of me because of this assignment, but now that something's come up that
makes you uncomfortable, it's a case of hands-off, don't touch. You can but I can't."

"Damned right you can't," he agreed, but much too dryly. "No other woman alive would have the
incredibly bad judgment to do to me what you've done-and then expect to get away with it. There's not
one of them who wouldn't know better-and be sure she watched her step. Well? Which way are we going
to do it?"

I'd been getting a good view of the gold carpeting from the position he was holding me in despite the
way my hair was hanging down, but staring at it wasn't bringing me any ideas on how to get out of that

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mess. I didn't particularly like what he was asking me to do, but that part of it made no difference; I still
would have had a problem even if I'd really wanted to do things his way.

"Looks like you've given me another choice that's no choice at all," I said at last, very aware of his hand
on my backside, but still helpless to change the answer. "I've made it a practice never to give into
blackmail, Val, not unless something really important is at stake. The assignment may be that important,
but my delicate sensibilities aren't. If you feel the need to beat me you go right ahead, but no one forces
me to give my word on anything, and that's the way it has to be. "

I said my piece and shut up, and then it was Val's turn to consider in silence. His grip on my wrists
hadn't loosened, he hadn't moved his leg, and his hand hadn't left my prettily covered behind, but I
suddenly had very high hopes. I hadn't told him anything but the strictest truth, but my subconscious had
obviously been working overtime to set up a con. Val might be feeling self-righteous and justified, but
he clearly considered himself a man of honor. Would a man of honor punish a woman for standing by
her convictions? Could he? My subconscious was betting he couldn't, which was why it had made me
phrase my refusal the way it had. I hoped to hell it was right.

After a minute or two the thigh under my stomach shifted, and I thought I heard a sigh.

"I see you really do think more about the assignment than you do about yourself," Val commented, his
tone blessedly neutral. "And you have principles, too. Are you sure there's nothing I can say that will
make you change your mind?"

"Nothing," I confirmed, trying to sound both unwavering and martyr-like at the same time.

"I'm glad to see there's hope for you after all," he said, his tone noticeably warmer. "You can't be taught
to be principled, that's something you are or you aren't, but you can be taught proper values. Treating
people the right way is a value, and one you'll be much better off for learning. Then you can apply your
principles to the right thing."

"Val," I began slowly and unbelievingly, "You don't mean you're still going to-Ow! Stop it! You can't do
this to me!"

"Sure I can," he answered, giving my seat another hard whack. "I can't force you to make a promise that
goes against your principles, but that doesn't mean I have to let you do whatever you please to me. You
were right when you said I wasn't one of your group, Diana, and you may have been right when you said
I never would be. First I'm going to have, to see something to make me want to be, and so far I haven't. "

That big hand came down hard on my seat again and then again, giving me the best motivation there is
for breaking free, but motivation is useless when that's all you have. I pulled again at his hand around
my wrist, found I still couldn't get loose, then fought hard against the wave of intimidation that rolled
over me. It didn't matter how he could do it, he was doing it, punishing me just the way he'd said he
would. No one had ever done that to me before, and I knew without doubt that it wasn't my role

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character he was reacting to, it was me. I swallowed down a yelp as he really began reaching me, and
then there was only one question left: how long would he keep it up?

My question was answered when my wrists and legs were freed, and the answer turned out to be both
not too long and much, much, too long. I don't think he spanked me as long as he had on Tildor, but it
had been long enough and hard enough to bring an ache to my bottom and tears to my eyes. I ignored
the tears as I pushed myself to my feet, damned if I would cry in front of him no matter what he did to
me, and made sure not to look at him even when he immediately followed me erect-until he took my
hand.

"What are you doing?" I tried to demand when he began leading me through the sitting room, but there
wasn't enough snap in the question to offend an ant. No matter how hard I had tried to fight against it he
had managed to intimidate me, and even though I hated the feeling there was nothing I could do about it.
I wasn't up to fighting him or even challenging him on a non-physical level, and the worst part about it
was that I was sure he knew it.

"I'm putting you to bed," he answered, not even glancing back at me. "You had a hard day today, and we
have things to do tomorrow."

"But, Val, that's your room," I protested as I was led across the threshold into a melon and silver copy of
the other bedroom and the door was closed behind me. "You said you wouldn't . . . "

"I should never have said anything like that," he interrupted, dropping my hand as soon as I stood next to
the big bed and immediately started getting out of his suit and ruffles. "You were right about my not
understanding the position we were in, about how unfair it is to keep someone from a good time when
that might be the last good time they'll ever have. I don't want to be done out of my last good time, and I
don't think you should be either. Get out of your clothes, Diana. "

"I don't want to get out of my clothes," I mumbled, unable to take my eyes off him. He wasn't wearing
anything under the suit and shirt, and my breath caught. "If you force me into that bed it'll be nothing but
rape, and I won't sit still for rape. "

"I hope you won't lie still for it either," he said with something of a grin, leaving his clothes where he
dropped them to come and stand in front of me, looking down into my eyes. "If you didn't want to be
raped you shouldn't have worn an outfit like that, a glittering, irresistible second skin. I'm not made out
of lifeless metal, Diana, and you should know that by now. If you won't come to my bed voluntarily I'll
carry you there and toss you in, but this is one night I won't take no for an answer."

"But you can't!" I all but begged, silently cursing the way he was making me feel. "Not after what you
just did to me. It isn't fair!"

"I know I have you at an unfair advantage right now," he said very softly with a gentle smile, reaching
out an equally gentle hand to smooth my hair before putting the arm around me. "If it had been any other

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night I would have put you to bed in your own room, but tonight I can't do it. I'd intended honoring your
choice and finding someone else to sleep with, but you made that impossible. You're responsible for the
way I feel, so you're the one who has to do something about it. Take your shoes off."

He had changed his order from clothes to shoes because he was already seeing to my body suit, both
hands working carefully but quickly as he slid it down off my shoulders and arms to my waist. I closed
my eyes with a shudder as he chuckled, knowing he was chuckling at the sight of my hardened nipples. I
couldn't ever remember being as aroused as I was then, or as confused. I wanted to turn and walk away
from him, slamming the door as I left, but I couldn't move. It was as though I'd been fed a zombie drug,
and couldn't refuse him no matter what he ordered me to do. I didn't want hire to take me to bed, not the
way I was still aching, but I wasn't being given any say in the matter. He pushed the suit down over my
hips to my ankles, crouched to slip off the silver sandals while I held onto his shoulder, and then the suit
was gone and thrown away.

"Val, don't, please," I whispered as he picked me up and began putting us both into the bed, my hands
involuntarily going to his impossibly broad shoulders. "You don't know what you're doing to me. You
can't know."

"Tell me what I'm doing to you, Diana," he murmured, settling me down beside him with his arms
around me. "Is it anything like what you do to me when I touch the softness of your skin?"

"No, don't, don't," I begged as he raised himself above me, separating my legs with his knees, still
holding me in his arms. He'd been ready even before he'd taken his clothes off, and I couldn't stop the
tears that were running down my cheeks.

"You know I won't hurt you, Diana," he said softly as he kissed my face, the words nearly a soothing
chant, his desire finding and entering me even as he spoke. I cried out almost with fear as he took
complete possession of me, his hand stroking my hair, his lips touching my throat. "You also know you
want me as much as I want you, only you're too stubborn to admit it."

His own words ended then as his lips took mine, but that was all that ended or stopped. His body kept
thrusting into mine, demanding a response that I couldn't refuse, overwhelming me so completely that I
thought I might faint. He had made me horribly vulnerable and then had taken me to his bed, 'and I knew
the tears of fear continued even after coherent thought abandoned me completely.



CHAPTER 7

"It's all right. Diana, wake up. It's all right."

I heard the words for some time before they got through to me. The first thing I became aware of was
Val's arms around me, the second that I was shivering violently. The dream was still enough with me so

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that I knew why I was shivering like that, but I wasn't up to stopping it yet.

"Diana, can you hear me?" Val persisted, his voice disturbed as he held me tight to his chest. "Try to
wake up."

"Am . . . up," I managed through clenched teeth, burying my face in his chest and starting to try for
control. "Give me . . . a minute."

He made a sound of agreement and began stroking my hair, trying to calm something he didn't
understand. Val and I were still in his bed with the cover over us instead of beneath us, and I should
have felt cozy and comfortable with his arms around me. That was a hell of a time for the shakes to get
me so badly, but it wasn't hard to understand why it had happened.

"You seem to be coming out of it now," Val said after considerably more than the minute I'd asked for. I
was still holding tight to him and breathing as though I'd been going uphill for hours, but I was finally
making some headway in pulling myself back. "That must have been some bad dream."

I shuddered at the memory of it and put my face into his chest again, but I didn't lose the control I'd
gained back. It wasn't the first time I'd had that dream and I should have been used to it after so many
repetitions, but even pretending to be blase didn't dull the edge of the memory. It had to have been my
mindless thoughts of the night before, that had triggered it, dragging me back to that time on Circlonet.
I'd infiltrated a secret, fanatical terrorist organization that was headquartered on that backwater world
and was doing fine discovering the leaders of the group-until word came through to those leaders that
there was a fly in the soup. They separated out the last dozen people to join the organization-which
included me-and took us one by one to be questioned. Truth drugs we notoriously unreliable against
those people you most want to make talk, so they fell back on a very old method of questioning which
consisted of stringing us up by the wrists and letting a heavy whip do the asking for them. I was the third
newest and therefore the third to be questioned, and I hate to admit how close I came to telling them
everything they wanted to hear. The pain in my arms and wrists from supporting my weight, the
trembling fear I was showing that wasn't entirely acting-and then the agony of my back being torn open,
the blood flowing, the flesh parting, the unbelieving shock even as I screamed and screamed and
screamed. -The fourth victim turned out to be a snoopsheet newsie who had wormed his way into the
organization for an exclusive story, and he broke almost as soon as they first began stroking him. He
thought admitting the truth would make them stop hurting him even though it would also get him thrown
out before he had the rest of his story, but he was wrong on both counts. They did stop whipping him,
but only until they had brought the first three of us back in. We three had been badly and unnecessarily
hurt because of him, and it was only just if we were allowed to watch him being whipped to death. The
newsie had forgotten it was fanatics he was dealing with, and that was the last mistake he ever made.
Toward the end, watching him had almost been worse than getting it myself . . . .

"That's much better," Val said, raising my face in the dimness to look down at me. "The trembling is
gone, and your muscles have finally relaxed. Want to tell me about it now?"



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"There's nothing to tell," I said with a shrug, noticing how gentle his touch was. "Dreams like that are an
occupational hazard, something that goes along with the territory. What time is it?"

"Not too early to get up, but I don't want you doing that yet," he answered, tightening his arm around me
to keep me from sitting up. "After something like that, you need a few minutes to pull yourself together-
not to mention the ordeal you went through last night."

"You're as funny as a terminal illness," I told his idiotic grin, then pushed his hand away from my face.
"If you ever again try telling me you don't believe in rape, I'll call you a liar to your face."

"Rape means forcing yourself on someone who is unwilling," he countered, the shadowy grin still there.

"Oh, you were looking for unwillingness," I said in tones of great revelation, ignoring the rest of his
nonsense.

"My definition of unwilling includes bodily reactions," he said, then bent his head to quickly kiss my
breast. "Right now I'd classify you as unwilling, and your body supports the contention; last night was
another story. You seemed to be afraid of something at the same time, but that something wasn't me.
What were you afraid of, Diana?"

"I was afraid that something unacceptable would happen because of the disadvantage you had me at," I
answered without taking my eyes from the dark gaze looking down at me. "Happily, nothing of the sort
happened, and now I'd like to get up."

"If nothing happened, why are you in such a hurry?" he asked in a murmur, lowering his head to my
breast again. "Say, look at this! I think your unwillingness is changing its mind."

He was lying to my right with his left arm around me, me on my back, him on his side, that stupid grin
above me and widened now. When his right leg moved over both of mine, I didn't need a formal posting
of his intentions to know what he was up to; I just knew I couldn't let him do it. Val was starting to get
the wrong ideas about me, and that was something that had to be stopped fast. As his head bent down
toward me a third time, what I could see of his eyes in the dimness filled with confidence, I quickly
snapped the back of my right hand against his nose, catching him sharply and just in the right way. He
yelped and pulled back fast, both of his hands going to his face, and I was able to roll out of the bed and
to my feet.

"If you'll notice, that time I used words first," I said to the anger looking at me over cupped hands. tears
of pain filming the eyes. "If you're starting to feel put-upon, consider that my thank-you for last night. I
know you earned a lot more, but all I can manage right now is a down-payment. Expect the balance
later."

I turned my back on him and strolled out of his room, crossed the sitting room, and made it back to my
own bedroom before I began cursing under my breath. We had a job to do and he was nothing but my

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partner, and it didn't matter how good he was in bed! It also didn't matter what he thought, I was the one
running the assignment! No softheadedness over him, and no softheadedness from him! The assignment
was what counted, and I'd see that it got done! I stopped my furious pacing in mid-stride, tried to get
back control over myself, then said to hell with it and went to take a shower.

Showers don't always do the trick, but by the time that one was over I'd spent a considerable amount of
time thinking, and was more than ready to get on with that assignment. My most important decision was
to stay away from Val, and also make sure he stayed away from me. If he was starting to come down
with infatuation, it was my job to cure him, not catch the same symptoms. The Special Agent who got
involved was a damned fool, and if I hadn't learned that over the years I deserved whatever I got. I took
one last look at myself in the mirror to check the jumpsuit and deck shoes I wore, then went out into the
sitting room.

"Good timing," Val said when he saw me, looking up from the couch he was sitting on. "I only just got
out here myself. "

"I hope it's a preview of future timing," I said with a nod, ignoring what had happened earlier just the
way he was doing. "We've got a lot on the schedule today and you'll be doing most of it, so we'd better
get with it. The first order of business will be that reservation on the Xanadu shuttle."

"And the second?" he asked, watching me sit on the couch not far from him. He looked more resigned
than rebellious, but there was a faint glint of hope in with the resignation.

"The second has to be Little," I said, heartlessly crushing the spark of hope. "Pick him up, get buddy-
buddy, then let him know we're going down to Xanadu. Pay close attention to what his reaction to that
is; if he jumps for joy, we'll have to watch our step."

"If he jumps for joy, he better not do it in my direction," my partner grumbled, running one hand through
his hair. "If it was you and a female Little, you'd probably think of a way around the need."

"Why would I waste the time?" I asked, getting up again for a cup of coffee from the wall server. "If
Little was female and gave me the come-hither sign, I'd smile and go thither. It would hardly be the first
time, and if that was the worst my job ever called for, I'd go through life with a big grin on my face. 'that
sort of loving has a lot going for it."

"Like what?" Val demanded, his eyes on me as I carne back with the cup, his outrage stronger than the
day before, then he waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind, I don't want to know. You're probably just
stringing me anyway, to sell me on what you think has to be done, but you're wasting your breath.
Buddy-buddy is as far as I'm -willing to go with Little, and nothing you can say will make me change
my mind."

"There's something you'll have to go into a little more intimately than that," I said, paying a lot of
attention to the coffee I was sipping. "When the time seems just right, you'll have to let him know I'm

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for sale."

"You're-what?" Val said, freezing in the middle of brushing at the dark green slacks beneath his yellow
shirt, his eyes coming up to stare at me. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I'm just covering all the bases," I explained, using the coffee to keep myself from smiling at his
new outrage. "You'll make it clear that I'm rot for sale to the Pleasure Sphere, only to private customers,
and that should guarantee a meet with Radman. If he wants to know why you won't sell to the Pleasure
Sphere, tell him you know you can get a better price in a private sale, and don't let him talk you out of it.
When I get down there, I don't want to find myself belonging to them."

"You'd rather be a one-man slave," he said with a nod, then snorted with ridicule. "I think that whacking
you got last night rattled your brains."

"And just in case, don't let Little pay for anything that involves us on Xanadu," I went on, ignoring what
he'd said. "If we go down as his guests and he suddenly yanks his backing, they won't give us the time to
establish a line of credit of our own. Looking the way we do, we'll be arrested for vagrancy so fast you'll
get a chill in the wind generated, and then we'll be on our way to the Pleasure Sphere to work out our
sentences. Maybe you'd enjoy serving their women patrons, but I'm hardly likely to be as crazy about the
men."

"They'd never try making me a slave," he said with another snort, then grinned at the idea. "I'm not built
the way you are, and I'm not soft and cuddly and easy to make squirm. It's the little girls they want, not
someone like me."

"Guess again, pal," I said with an evil leer, not about to let him get away with garbage like that. "Most
women don't want something soft, they want something big and hard as a rock. They'd drug you if they
had to, and after that you'd use a knothole in a fence if nothing better was available. Would you like an
estimate of how much they'd charge just to let some fat, slobbering matron run her hands over your chest
and shoulders? To go down below belly level they'd charge even more, and by then you'd be begging her
to drop her girdle and bend over. If you want to bet on it, we can put the stakes to one side until you get
a chance to see how it works with your own two eyes. I wouldn't want you to think I was stringing you."

"If you ever gave up stringing me, you'd have trouble holding up your end of a conversation between
us," he growled, nothing left of his recent amusement. "And no matter how you try to distract me from
the point, I still don't like your idea. What if someone offers me an amount I can't refuse? Do I just take
it with a polite thank-you?"

"Certainly," I agreed with a grin. "You accept the highest bid, then arrange to turn me over to my new
owner as soon as we get back to the Station. They'll know how unwise it is to get the Management
involved, so they'll be glad to wait. Once we're back here the assignment will be over, so I'll be able to
take care of the problem myself. "



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"Like hell you will," he said in a flat, no-arguments tone, those eyes cold as dark seas in winter. "If I
have to make the deal, I also get to break it. And I still can't see any real reason why it has to be made in
the first place. Why can't we simply be two of the people going down to the Pleasure Sphere?"

"Val, you don't really know what goes on in the Pleasure Sphere, and I'm supposed to be less than
seventeen years old," I said with a sigh of exasperation. "Use your imagination to fill in some of the
gaps, and then tell me how many of the people down there will be bringing along teenagers to indulge in
it. Do you expect me to find Radman in the middle of their kiddy park? Don't you think your potential
customers will know how well-primed I'll be after going through some of the Sphere's specials? That'll
be your reason for taking me along, so that I'll have some idea what to do when I find myself in my new
circumstances. The Sphere gives almost the best preparatory training there is."

"Almost the best, huh?" he said with no change of expression. "Who gives the best?"

"The Adepts of Saccarion," I answered without hesitation. "But they'll only train you if you convince
them that you're joining them permanently, and they're not interested in words of sincerity. Or you can
find yourself a renegade Adept, the way I did."

"Well, there you are," he said, gesturing with one hand as he moved to get more comfortable on the
couch. "You don't need any more preparation. You happened to meet a renegade Adept, and she taught
you all you need to know."

"He," I corrected with so much satisfaction that those eyes came back to me. "The Adept was male, and
you don't just `happen' to run into one. And you also don't get trained overnight. You mention anything
like that, and you'll blow this whole deal. If I were Adept-trained, I'd be worth more as permanent rent-
out than you could possibly get in a single sale, and they'll all know it. If you're that determined to screw
this up, Val, let me know and I'll take it from here alone. "

"You can't do it alone," he came back, those eyes still mightily displeased. "If I don't get you down to
Xanadu, you have no way of getting there."

"Legally," I qualified. "You'd be surprised how many illegal options I have, but the risks involved are
too high to consider if there's any choice in the matter. If I have no choice, though, it becomes the only
game in town. " -

"And you'll play the game no matter what you have to go through to do it," he summed up, definitely
unhappy with me. "It looks like I'm the one with no choice this time, and I don't like it any more than
you did. This clever idea of yours is going to cause trouble."

I watched him grow vexed, knowing the idea had already caused trouble.

"All right," I compromised, taking another taste of my coffee. "Suppose we change the clever idea just a
little, to make it easier for you to live with. Don't come right out and say I'm for sale, just hint at it when

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the need arises. If it'll make you feel better to hesitate dramatically over such immoral behavior, go
ahead and do it. You don't know what Xanadu's regulars are like, and we don't need more trouble than
we already have."

"You can say that again," he agreed with a snort, looking considerably happier. "If I'm wishy-washy
enough about committing to it all the way, I might not even have a deal to break when we get back.
What's your attitude supposed to be about this whole thing?"

"I haven't completely decided yet," I answered, getting up a second. I wasn't crazy about the sort of
agreement I'd gotten out of him, but it would have to do. "I won't know anything about your horrible
plans, of course, but I can't decide just how innocent I ought to be. Pretending you don't know things
when you do is dangerous, especially when a slip is so easy to see. You just make sure 6-c> be
interested in everything female coming past you but .e."

"Am I supposed to be blind?" he asked, watching me sit back down. "If I'm-excuse the expression-into
females, why would I miss going after one like you?"

"Don't you have any imagination?" I complained with a sigh. "if you have your eye on me along with
everyone else, why would you be thinking of selling me? And if you're not thinking of selling me, Little
might decide to stay with the kidnap squad, instead of taking you to Ragman for an offer to be made. If
Radman's offer hits you the wrong way, you're big enough to do the same to Radman, which would
abruptly shorten Little's life span. It's simple logic, Val, so it shouldn't be beyond you. If anyone asks,
tell them little girls, no matter how pretty, turn you off. Lots of men feel like that, at least the normal
ones, so lie a little and pretend that you do, too."

"Why do I have the feeling I've just been insulted?" he asked the empty air, then brought his eyes back
to me. "Am I mistaken, or did you just call me something other than normal?"

"I called an interest in a very young girl something other than normal," I said very sweetly to the look in
his eyes. "If you don't fall into that category, it can't have been an insult toward you."

"That's true," he said with a judicious nod. "In point of fact, little girls don't turn me on, not the way big
girls do, especially certain big girls. When I don't have to fight to stay undamaged, that is."

"Yes, that kind of fight would certainly be a turn-off," I agreed. "I guess it's a good thing uncle Val has
no real interest in little Jennifer."

"Okay, okay, I got the point," he grumbled with one hand up. "Little Jennifer could dance naked in front
of uncle Val, and all he'd do is yawn. Is there anything else I have to know?"

"One of the most important things has to be that if you run into trouble and I'm not around to help, call
the Management," I answered with a frown. "Clients are protected on that world, so that's your best and
only out. There must be more, but my mind is too eager to get started; it's not letting me think about

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what everyone knows except you. I'll try to think about it while you're making the reservations, but we'll
have to come up with an emergency code for talking about things like that when we're where we might
be overheard."

"We already have a code that no one will be able to break," he came back with sudden inspiration,
pointing a finger at me. "The trade language Dameron gave you. Can we get away with calling it a
private family language?"

"I don't see why not," I said slowly, liking the idea as soon as I heard it. "If anyone says anything about
never having heard of such a thing, we turn very surprised over their lack of knowledge. Almost
everyone we know has a family language, handed down through the generations to all branches of the
family. We just won't give them any translations of any part of it, to make sure no one feeds it ,into a
language computer. That was really good thinking, Val."

"Thanks," he said with a grin for the pat on the back I'd given him, standing up as I got to my feet. "Are
we ready to go now?"

"I don't know how ready we are, but that's what we're doing," I agreed with a nod, walking over to return
my coffee cup to the recess I'd gotten it from. "We still have some time for me to remember whatever it
is I'm missing, but I wish . . ."

I let it trail off because we did have the time, but I still felt vaguely annoyed. The term, "properly
thorough briefing" had taken on new meaning with Val around, but I couldn't let that distract me from
everything else that had to be considered. My partner and I moved together toward the door, then left the
suite.

We stopped for a quick breakfast, and that was when Val "just happened" to bring up the subject of my
wardrobe; since the same thought had already occurred to me, I hadn't been able to argue very
convincingly. As that security man had pointed out the night before, my clothes were geared to a full-
grown woman, not to a young girl, and something had to be done about them. It would be stupid to give
anyone on Xanadu food for thought which just might be digested after I had taken care of Radman; it
was an unnecessary risk which could result in my having to produce the death warrant, and there was no
telling how Xanadu's Management would react to it. Oh, they were legally bound to honor the Council's
instrument just the way any other Federation planet was, but that didn't mean they couldn't give me one
hell of a rough time before they did. No, the wardrobe problem had to be taken care of; I just didn't like
the way Val intended doing it.

We went to the shuttle reservations desk first, waited for the couple in front of us to finish their business,
then found out that the earliest reservation we could get was for late that afternoon. Val was pleasant
about it and accepted the added delay without strain, but I had to pretend to total indifference to keep
from snarling and kicking that thirty-foot, low-chaired counter into its constituent plastic parts. All of the
delays and stupid little problems were starting to give me bad vibes about that assignment, and I had to
firmly remind myself that imagination didn't usually affect an assignment one way or the other. If it was

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handled right it came out right, and vibes had nothing to do with it.

After the reservations desk, Val took me shopping. As soon as I saw the shop-front I knew he'd been
checking Station listings again, and any hopes I'd had about the experience turning out bearable went
right down the tubes. The place was called "Pretty Little Miss," and I immediately regretted all the
breakfast I'd eaten; nausea does not sit well on top of a full stomach.

"If you keep hanging back, people will start to 'notice," Val muttered at me in the trade language that
was our secret code, glancing at the passersby who were passing us where we stood in the corridor, just
outside the shop. "Get inside, and right now."

I glanced up to see that no-arguments look in his eyes, sighed in defeat, then went ahead and pushed
through the door into the shop, he coming along right behind me. I heard nothing in the way of a gasp
out of him once we had crossed the threshold, but that was likely due to the way he was consciously
refraining from reacting to things that were new to him but usual to everyone else. The shop's decor was
one, huge vu-cast window, wrap-around without sharp corners, the door we had entered by the only
break in an otherwise perfect little glade. The sun shone down through the overhead leaves, nicely bright
but not glaring, the "fresh" canned air was- full of woodsy perfume, and the carpeting under our feet was
make-believe grass. Once the door had closed behind us we could hear faint but cheerful birdsong. faint
stirrings of the "foliage" around us working hard to add to the overall attempt at true outdoors. It was
impossible to tell what planet the scene had been recorded on despite the vaguely green sky, but one
thing was as clear as the gently flowered projection around us: if we bought anything in that place, we'd
pay through the nose.

"Good morning, and may I help you?" came a pleasant, throaty female voice, causing us to turn toward
one of the larger "trees" in our vicinity. There was a barely noticeable hesitation where that tree fit in
with the rest of the scenery, and that had to be where the woman had come from. In her late twenties or
early thirties, she stood in front of the tree with her hands clasped in front of her, the half-skirt, halfpants
outfit she wore showing her excellent taste, her really beautiful face smiling in sincere greeting. My
partner-who was having such trouble getting interested in other women-stirred in interest as soon as
those black eyes touched her, and I had to swallow down a laugh of true amusement.

"I'd like to see some appropriate outfits for my niece," Val answered easily with a smile of his own for
the woman, an action which caused her to shift her stance immediately from neutral yet friendly to
posing and interested, with the woman most likely unaware that she'd done it.

"May I ask what you mean by appropriate, sir?" she said, coming forward to stand closer to us. "Do you
have a specific occasion in mind?"

"I have all occasions in mind," Val said, gesturing slightly in my direction. "My sister let her do her own
clothes shopping, and everything she has is years too old for her. I'm more than tired of having to tell
every other man who looks at her how old she really is, so I'm here to see if I can get some clothing to
do the telling for me. Do you think you can help me?"

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"I'm sure of it, sir," she said, then gave me a professionally estimating up-and-down.

"If that jumpsuit is indicative of the rest of her wardrobe, I'm afraid you're right," she told Val without
looking at him, a very attractive frown making up her stare at me. "It's of excellent quality and shows
very good taste, but despite the way it fits it's obviously too old for her. How old is she?"

"Not yet seventeen," Val answered, making sure not even to glance in my direction.

"My goodness," the woman said with a startled blink, looking at me considerably more closely. "Her
height and degree of development are really misleading, aren't they'? Not to mention that long red hair.
Well, I'm sure we can achieve the effect you're looking for, sir. Do you have any style preferences in
mind, dear?"

"Sure I do," I answered, both awed and stunned that I'd finally been addressed. "My preferences run to
what I already have. As far as I'm concerned, this is a complete waste of time,"

"Just ignore her," Val advised the slightly embarrassed woman, sticking with the line we'd agreed on. I
had no idea what current teen-age styles were, and wouldn't have known even if I hadn't just come back
from an extended tour of the outer provinces, so to speak. That was one situation where Val could admit
ignorance but I couldn't, so we'd decided to finesse the problem.

"Just ignore her," Val told the woman with another smile, one that unfortunately added to her fluster.
"Since she's not prepared to cooperate in the slightest, we'll have to make the choices for her. You'll
show me what you think is appropriate, and I'll tell you whether it's what I had in mind."

"But, sir," what if she won't wear what you choose for her?" the woman objected. "Once the outfits are
cut to her size, the shop won't be able to take them back. I-I won't be able to give you any sort of a
refund."

"Don't worry about whether or not she'll wear them," Val said, then deliberately moved his eyes to me.
"She may not want to, but she'll wear them."

I made sure to drop my eyes at the look I was getting, carrying through with the sullen-and-rebellious-
but-obedient bit we were pulling, but not before I saw the expression on the woman's face. She'd
actually flinched at the way Val was looking at me, and suddenly she wasn't posing for him any longer.

"I'll get seats for us, and then we can look at what's available, sir," she said, professionally. "Just a
moment, please."

She turned away from us with a nod of her head, and moved toward the tree she'd appeared near; once
she had disappeared behind it, I looked over at Val.



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"Pretend I'm complaining and trying to whine you into changing your mind," I told him in the trade
language, using the appropriate tone for what I was supposedly saying. "While you're ignoring my
protests, make a note somewhere to tone it down and keep it toned down. If that woman wasn't too
cultured and svelte to have hysterics, you would have had her cringing and sobbing against the wall.
Wishy-washy, weak-willed men like you aren't supposed to be able to do that to women. "

"Damn it, you're right," he growled, then immediately changed his tone to what might be described as
firm petulance. "While I'm telling you that you'd better obey me and cut out the nonsense, I'll also tell
you that the slip is mainly your fault. You've ignored me for so long now, I've almost forgotten how
other women react to me. If you don't show proper fear every now and again, how am I supposed to
remember?"

"Very funny," I answered with proper sullenness instead, then stamped my foot and turned my back on
him. "I'll remember to scream later. Meanwhile, get that amused look out of your eyes. You're not
supposed to be having that much fun. "

He grunted in a non-committal way that could have been an uncaring dismissal of whatever threat his
little niece had thrown at him, and then we waited in silence until the woman came back. When she did
she was followed by a brawny type swinging in two cloud chairs, and she herself carried a small, padded
stool. In another minute or so we were all comfortably seated-with the woman's stool next to my chair-
and then the fashion show began.

When it was all over and we'd left the shop, I was tempted to start feeling depressed again. The woman
had advised Val and he'd made his selections, but I was ready to swear that the age they'd been trying for
was more like ten or eleven than seventeen. The choices Val had made were absolutely ridiculous, and I
was only waiting to get back to our suite before I told him what to do with them-which did not include
any wearing.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon," said an abrupt, apologetic voice just as we were jostled a little from behind.
"The fault is entirely mine, and I hope you'll- Well, hello there again."

After the first three or four words I hadn't needed to look around to know who it was, but I still joined
Val in turning toward the one who had "accidentally" jostled us. John Little stood there with an urbane
smile on his face, oozing friendliness toward Val-but with the faintest hint of wariness in his eyes. It
looked like he was prepared to cut and run if Val took offense, but my partner wasn't taking anything but
his medicine-like a good little scout.

"Mr.-Little, wasn't it?" Val said with a friendly smile of his own-and his own hint of wariness-as he
extended his hand. "How are you this morning?"

"Just fine, Mr. Carter, just fine." Little beamed, flinching only a little over the handshake. "It's good to
finally run into a friendly face on a strange Station-and please do accept my apologies for having done
that in the most literal sense. Have you breakfasted yet?"

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"Yes, we have," Val said, still sticking with open and friendly. "We've just finished some shopping for
my niece here, and were heading back to our suite. By the way, this is my niece, Jennifer Kent. Jennifer,
Mr. John Little."

"How do you do, Jennifer," Little said to me with polite, uninterested friendliness, without offering his
hand. I had told Val that Radman's assistant would be more interested in him than me and although I
hadn't really been lying, the whole truth was that Little swung both ways, depending on mood and
circumstance. His coolness had to be calculated then, possibly to make my "uncle" believe that he had
no designs on his pretty, young niece. That meant he would open up more completely if I were
elsewhere, leaving him a clear field to get buddy-buddy with Val.

"I do great-at home," I answered with as little interest as he had shown, deliberately not looking at Val.
"Why I let myself be talked into this trip, I'll never know. Uncle Val's ideas of fun are too archaic for
words."

"Now, Jenny, you know I've been trying to entertain you," Val said with mild reproof in his voice,
showing nothing of the look that had done such a thorough job of rattling the woman in the shop. "If
nothing else, the idea of our going down to Xanadu and the Pleasure Sphere should excite you."

"Big deal," I said with no enthusiasm whatsoever, pretending not to see the brief burst of exultation in
Little's eyes. "All they do in the Pleasure Sphere is have sex, every minute of the day and night. If I
wanted sex I didn't have to come here for it, I have enough partners back home. And there'd also be
something interesting to do besides that."

"My dear girl, only amateurs provide 'just' sex," Little told me with an indulgent, superior smirk,
glancing at Val to share the amusement with him. "The Management of the Pleasure Sphere is far from
amateurish, which means you have a rare treat before you. The vast majority of young ladies your age
are never given the opportunity to so indulge themselves. You should be grateful to your uncle for his
generosity."

I glanced at Val as though I would have said something nasty to that but didn't care to go quite that far,
then let my very evident skepticism say what I wasn't putting into words: the whole scene was a drag,
and I had no intentions of believing what I'd been told. Uncaring boredom with the universe as a whole
wasn't an untypical reaction of the age group I supposedly belonged to, and it had the benefit of being an
acceptable out in case I slipped and forgot to be impressed by something I'd supposedly never seen
before.

"My niece doesn't consider me generous, Mr. Little," Val put in in that same mild way, but with a hint of
sternness. "My sister has indulged her shamefully, continually allowing her to do just as she pleased, and
now has given her over into my care more or less permanently so that she might run off to one of these
frontier planets leaving no responsibilities behind her. That I brought Jennifer along on this trip when I
might just as easily have left her behind apparently means nothing, except that she now begins to

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understand that I refuse to be disobeyed and ignored in the way her mother allowed. You have learned
that lesson, haven't you, Jenny?"

I sent him a look of pure hate, but felt more like grinning and congratulating him. The line he'd come up
with was perfect, and also gave me the exit excuse I needed

"I've told you before that my name is Jennifer," I hissed with the flush of embarrassment reddening my
cheeks. "And if you aren't ready to go back to the suite, I am."

I turned and stalked away without paying the least attention to a chuckling Little, and let my mad carry
me all the way back to our suite. Once inside I indulged the urge to grin, especially when Val didn't
show up right behind me. He and Little had gone off somewhere to strengthen their new friendship,
finally getting that assignment off the ground the right way.

Not knowing how long I would have to wait, I walked into the middle of the sitting room, thought about
the various entertainments the suite offered, then shook my head and went into my bedroom. Now that
something was actually being accomplished and it was only a matter of time before I got my own hand
in the batter, the impatience I'd been feeling was back to a level I could live with easily. There was no
telling what we'd get into once we hit dirt on Xanadu, so it was time I noticed that I hadn't had much
sleep the last couple of days-or enough sleep free from footsie-playing and nightmares. I stretched hard
when I stopped next to my bed, opened my expensive and tastefully fashioned jumpsuit after kicking off
my deck shoes, then climbed happily bare between the ice-blue covers.

I came slowly awake when my appetite stirred for the third or fourth time, something it hadn't done in
quite a while. I'd eaten breakfast that morning only because Val had threatened to send me to the baby-
sitting service for a while if I didn't, and he'd had that look in his eyes that said he'd do it just for the hell
of it if I refused. Now that there was the prospect of action ahead of me my appetite was starting to get
interested again, and it felt like I'd slept through lunch. I turned my head on the pillow to peer up at the
headboard, and sure enough, Station lunch time was behind me. I knew I'd have to get up soon to see
about the problem, but the bed was comfortable and I was still half asleep. I snuggled down under the
covers,, rubbed my face against the smooth, cool pillowcase, felt my eyes closing-then sat up fast at the
sound of glass shattering somewhere in the sitting room. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I
no longer felt sleepy.

I eased open my bedroom door without making noise doing it, but I needn't have bothered. The only one
in the sitting room was Val, and all he was doing was what the room called for. One of the white and
gold walls had a splotch of liquid streaming down it, with a small pile of broken glass lying at the base
of the wall, but there was no true indication of how the splotch and broken pieces had gotten there. One
of the deep, comfortable light-gold chairs was helping V al do his sitting, and when I stepped into the
room he looked over at me.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he said very quietly, more-subdued, I guess you would call it-than I'd
ever thought he could be. "We still have plenty of time before we have to be at the shuttle, so if you need

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more sleep, go ahead and take it."

"I was just lying there and thinking about getting up anyway," I answered with a headshake, making an
effort to keep a frown off my face as I took the chair opposite his. "How did it go?"

"My good pal John will be going down on the shuttle with us," he said, sounding and looking the least
bit-distracted. "Since he's been to the Pleasure Sphere before and I haven't, he insists on playing guide.
He now knows how unhappy I am about being saddled with a teen-aged pampered princess how it
cramps my style-but doesn't know yet what I hope to do to get rid of her. Once we get to know each
other a little better I'll let him in on my plans, but not until then. We also got our sexual preferences
established, and since anything is fine with me as long as it's female, he's decided to do it my way for the
time we're together. He doesn't mind in the least, and we ought to have a lot of fun."

"Val, what's wrong?" I asked, really disturbed at the tonelessness in his voice as he finished his report.
By rights he should have been chewing me out for not telling him that Little was a switch-hitter instead
of the one-track I'd described him as; rather than that he was just sitting quietly in his chair, his yellow
shirt and dark green pants more rumpled than sharp-looking, his face expressionless, his body oddly
tense. "Val, tell me what happened."

"John Little wasn't the only one I got to know better," he answered, looking as though he were forcing
the words out. "For the first time in my life, I also got a really good look at myself. If you're not going
back to bed, put some clothes on."

I glanced down at myself to realize that I'd come into the sitting room in the same thing I'd slept in-
which is to say, nothing but skin, but what difference did that make? We were in the middle of
something a lot more important than clothing or the lack of it.

"I'll get dressed as soon as we finish this conversation," I said, gesturing aside his comment. "What did
you mean you..."

"You get dressed, or this conversation is finished," he interrupted with a growl, looking at me in the
weirdest way. "As a matter of fact, I want you to haul out a couple of those weapons you have in your
trunk and start carrying them. Do it now."

I opened my mouth to argue with him, closed it again in exasperation, then got out of the chair to go
back to my bedroom. It took about five seconds to get into my jumpsuit and smooth closed the staytab,
then I headed back into the sitting room.

"Okay, now I'm dressed," ,I stated as I reclaimed my chair. "I've protected your modesty, and now you're
damned well going to tell me what's going on. What the hell did Little do to you?"

"It wasn't Little, and you didn't have the time to get those weapons I mentioned," he came back, only a
very small portion of the tension gone out of him. "You get in there and get them, or I'll . . . "

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"No, Val!" I interrupted sharply, standing up to walk closer to his chair. "In case you've forgotten, I'm
still leader of this assignment, and if there's any threatening to be done, I'm the one who'll do it. If it
bothers you that I'm not armed, don't worry your pretty head about it. I am armed, and as soon as the
attack comes I'll prove it. Now what the hell is eating you?"

He looked up at me where I stood above him, his exposed and vulnerable soul staring out of his eyes,
and then he looked away again.

"I was only thinking of your safety," he said in a faint voice. "I know now that I can't be trusted, not
even by myself. Mother of Life, how could I have done it?"

He buried his face in his hands and leaned so far forward that I thought he would topple out of the chair;
there's no question about how close he came. He rocked forward and back, so tormented that I wanted to
take him in my arms and hold him as tight as my strength allowed, but when I put my hand to his
shoulder he pulled away, either denying himself comfort or afraid to accept it. I have a fairly vivid
imagination, but it was impossible for me to come up with what he might conceivably have done to tear
him apart so. There was only one thing I could think of to get me the answers I couldn't pry out any
other way, so I went back to my room a second time to get it.

It didn't take very long to get my kit, which meant Val was in the same place when I stopped next to him
again. I opened the kit and slid out one of the miniature pressure hypos, filled it from the vial of Easy,
then emptied it again into his arm, right through his shirt sleeve. The hiss of the hypo was too low to
break through his upset, so I just replaced the instrument in its bands and went back to my chair to wait
for the drug to take effect. Easy earns its nickname by building up a thick, soft wall between you and
your emotions, taking the importance out of everything, relieving stress from whatever source. With
enough Easy in you, you could even help cut your own head off without worrying about it; the project
would be too unimportant to get excited over.

It took a good three or four minutes, but finally Val's body relaxed enough to let him sit back in his
chair. I got out of my own chair and walked over to him, perched on his left chair arm, then smoothed
his black hair back the way he so often did with me.

"Tell me what you and Little did, Val," I suggested softly as his eyes came to me. "Where did you go
after I left you?"

"We went for some coffee and conversation," he answered without hesitation, still looking up at me. "I
told him how hard it was for a gentleman of leisure to be tied down with an unwanted responsibility like
a young girl, but my older sister was in charge of our parents' estate and would have cut me off from the
money if I'd refused. You know, the story you made up for me to use."

"I remember the story," I said with a nod of approval. "Is that all you did? Just drink coffee and talk?"



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"No," he said in the same direct but dreamy way. "After he sympathized with me we talked about sex,
and then he suggested we go somewhere to get the bad taste of being crowded by a woman out of my
mouth. He said he knew just the experience to do it, and we'd both have fun."

"Experience," I repeated, suddenly suspicious. "Val-did he take you to the Exotic Rooms?"

"Yes," he answered, not a flicker of upset in the black gaze resting easily on me. "We went to the Exotic
Rooms, and I did what Ringer suggested for any time I was caught in a situation where I would be
expected to know what was going on, but didn't. I told John I was in the mood to pretend I'd never been
there before, and that I'd taken to pretending that with a lot of things, just to make them interesting
again. He liked the idea of leading a novice around, and joined the `game' by taking over completely."

"He would," I muttered, blessing Ringer in absentia for coming up with such a useful out. It fit in well
with the "I couldn't care less" attitude I'd had to come up with, and would probably be very effective for
the cover we were then using. "What sort of experience did he arrange for the two of you?"

"It was for the four of us," Val corrected with no emphasis on any part of the statement. "He picked out
two very pretty girls as our escorts, then had us taken to a private room. A completely hairless girl
served us all odd-tasting drinks, we drank until we fell asleep, and then we were someplace else and
other people."

He stirred very faintly in the chair then and almost looked away from me, a reaction that made me
wonder what his constitution was like. The drug shouldn't have let him feel anything, but then I realized
he probably still had Exotic Rooms drugs in his system, too. I'd have to neutralize all of it, the Easy
included, but I needed some more answers first.

"Tell me what those other people did," I said, hoping that if I put it impersonally, he'd be able to accept
it and talk about it in the same way. Happily I hit the right combination; he sat still in the chair again,
and didn't try to look away.

"The two men were desert bandits on a world I didn't know," my partner said, his gaze turning inward.
"The two pretty girls were a King's daughters, and the bandits led their men in attack against the caravan
that was taking them somewhere. The bandits killed all of the caravan guards, and then we found the
two girls, who had been trying to hide from us. John took one and I took the other, we threw them across
our saddles, then we carried them back to our camp. My little redhead was terrified, but she and her
sister still expected to be ransomed back to their father with nothing else happening to them. John and I
dragged them into his tent by the hair, forced them to strip in front of us and all of our men, then he and
I raped them. They were both virgins and both hysterical, but we did it anyway. And then the dream
went away and the four of us were back in the room we'd been drinking in, and I cook the girl lying next
to me and-did it again. She screamed and begged me not to, but I still raped her."

His breath was coming the least bit faster and his eyes had dropped to belt level, and all I could do for a
minute was sit 'here- and stare at him. It's been contended that most men, no matter how polite and easy

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to get along with they were normally, deep-down inside enjoyed the thought of taking women by force.
Quite a lot of Exotic Rooms experiences were based on that contention, and very few people saw
anything wrong in it. As long as a man didn't go around exercising his preference with women who
wanted no part of the deal, no one had the right to tell him his preferences were wrong. From my own
experiences with Val I knew he'd been conditioned against using force, but his basic nature and the way
he'd begun acting with me should have kept him from being as bothered as he obviously was. I was
clearly missing something, but I didn't know how to get at it.

"I can see there was something involved in that that you didn't like," I said slowly, trying not to push too
hard. "When you and the girl were on the desert world, did you hurt her?"

"No," he answered with a faint headshake, looking up at me again. "I only raped her. I wanted to rape
her and it felt good. But it wasn't me doing it, it was that stranger, and everyone said he was doing the
right thing. But then we came back."

His gaze flickered at that, at the thought of coming back, and that was the help I needed.

"And once you came back it was you," I said with as much understanding in my voice as I could
manage. "But you didn't hurt her then, did you?"

"Of course I did," he said with what I swear was the ghost of indignation in his voice. "I looked at her
where she lay next to me on the carpeting and she shook her head, trying to beg me not to do anything to
her. I knew she didn't want to be taken but I did it anyway, and what's more, I enjoyed it. A part of me
tried to tell me she didn't belong to me, but I didn't listen to that part. It just felt good and right until John
and I had finished the lunch we were brought, and then I was able to understand what I really was and
how right all those women were not to trust me. That's when I left John and came back here. If I'd had
anywhere else to go, I wouldn't have come back."

He was speaking almost matter-of-factly again, the confession behind him, the brutal truth laid out for
the universe to see. I cursed under my breath at the way I'd blundered, but how the hell could I have told
him everything about the Federation in a handful of days? I'd missed something important and he'd been
caught by it-and then I remembered how I'd accused him that morning, which had to have made it worse

I got my kit again, refilled the hypo with paneutrol, then gave him the dose and sat back on the chair
arm, waiting for it to take effect. When his eyes started blinking and he took a deep breath, I knew it was
time.

"You should be just about clear now," I said, drawing a sharper gaze than I'd been getting up till then.
"Is all the fog cleaned out, or do you need another couple of minutes?"

"What have you been giving me?" he asked with definite annoyance, running a hand through his hair as
he shifted an inch or so away from me. "And get back to your own chair, I don't like being crowded."



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"Tough," I answered without the least compassion, ready for the stare that quickly turned in my
direction. "Why should I worry about how comfortable a heartless rapist is? And that is what you are,
isn't it?"

"You don't sound very convinced," he said, an odd flicker coming to those eyes. "Are you waiting to be
grabbed and jumped before you'll believe it?"

"I'm waiting to explain to you about Exotic Rooms drugs," I came back flatly. "Are you ready to listen
with an open mind, or do I need to get another glass of water first?"

His eyes went briefly startled as he remembered our time together on the ship, and then he lost some of
the intensity he'd been building toward again.

"If you're trying to say you know something I don't, you won't have to twist my arm to make me listen,"
he said, not quite up to finding humor in the situation. "I'd like to hear that the whole thing was just a
bad dream, but I know it wasn't. "

"Do you think you can get it through your thick head that you don't know one damned thing?" I asked,
not bothering to hide my impatience. "The truth of the matter is that it was a dream, every bit of it
including the time you woke up back in the room. That's part of what the drugs are supposed to do when
you're escorted: carrying the dream over into the real world for a while."

"I don't understand," he said, looking horribly confused. "I know I was awake when we got back to that
room, so how could it still have been a dream? Dreams stop when you wake up. "

"Not if they're being helped along by drugs, they don't," I said "The four of you started out 'drinking'
together, something that tasted strange. That was the drug, of course, the one that let you all enter the
experience together. Then they ended the experience to make it carry over into reality, and let your
escort earn her pay. Experiences always carry over anyway, but when there's no escort involved they add
some sort of sleepy stuff, to cut you down in time to keep r things from getting out of hand with anyone
who might be waiting for you in your room. You'll never go after a stranger because of an Exotic Rooms
experience, but if you're traveling with someone you could have a problem. Or she could. The point I'm
trying to make is that your great revelation t'warn't no such thing. The girl cringed back from you
because of the experience carry-over and because it's her job; you ignored her pretend terror because of
the drug; once you negated the after-effects a little with food, you came back to yourself enough to see
what you'd ' done with critical eyes, but weren't back far enough to understand it was the drug rather
than you. if you didn't spend so much time feeling guilty about the chicken reactions of other people,
you never would have come apart over a stupid little experience. And I was awfully glad to hear that
you'd already eaten. Now how about being a good little rapist and ordering something for me before I
fall over from starvation."

I got up from the arm of the chair and started to take the kit back to my bedroom, but I didn't get more
than three steps before a big hand was on my arm, stopping me. I didn't know what he wanted this time,

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but he didn't leave me in the dark long.

"You're really angry," he said, and although he still sounded confused, he also sounded calm and back in
control. "Why are you so angry with me?"

"I'm not angry at you," I said, keeping my eyes on the door to my bedroom. "As a matter of fact, it has
nothing to do with you. Are you going to order lunch for me or not?"

"It has to have something to do with me," he persisted, ignoring the question I'd asked. "You weren't
angry, when we first started talking, and you weren't angry when you were questioning me. I couldn't
keep from answering your questions, but nothing stopped me from noticing things. It seemed to start
when you brought me out of that muddled sea of confusion and began explaining the facts of life. If you
aren't angry at me, what are you angry at?"

"I told you it was nothing!" I snapped, pulling my arm out of his grip. "We've got an assignment to see
to, and it's about time we started seeing to it. I've got things to do and so do you, so . . . "

"No," he interrupted very quietly, and then his hand was on my arm again, this time pulling me around
to face him. I didn't want to face him and tried to pull away again, but would have had to use a kick to
get both of his hands unpeeled from where they held me. For some stupid reason I felt like trembling,
and I had no interest at all in looking up at him.

"You're not by any chance-angry at yourself?" he asked with that same damned calm, probably looking
down at me. "You can't think that what happened to me was your fault? Diana; you weren't even there. "

"I noticed that, too," I answered, looking at the fourth button of his pretty yellow shirt. "If I hadn't been
so clever about getting out of the way, though, I would have been. And would have been around to
explain about how Exotic Rooms work, the way I should have before this. Considering where we're
going you should have been told all about Exotic Rooms, but I wasn't bright enough to think of it. It just
goes to show you what happens when you rely on a partner to watch your back: you end up getting it in
the neck. If you'd prefer forgetting about the lunch, I'll understand."

For what seemed like the fiftieth time I tried turning away from him, but he still wasn't having any. His
breath came out in a long, deep sigh, and then he pulled me up against him so that he could put his arms
around me.

"I really do wish you would learn to apologize like other people," he said, and damned if there wasn't a
faint chuckle in his voice. "It would make life so much easier for both of us. If you don't apologize to me
for something that isn't your fault, how can I play the big-hearted hero and forgive you?"

"Like hell it wasn't my fault," I muttered into his chest, raising my left hand to toy with one of his
buttons. "If you'd known what to expect from the experience, it wouldn't have strung you out like that.
I'm the one who's supposed to be making sure you don't get caught, so what do I do when I'm really

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needed? I take a nap."

"Diana, you're not responsible for my basic nature, or the way I was raised, or the-chicken way people
react to me," he disagreed without the chuckle, one hand stroking my hair. "I was taught to treat women
gently and never use my size and strength to force them into anything they didn't want to do, even if the
growling hunger inside me had to go unfed. I never saw anything wrong in going along with that and
always did go along with it, even though I felt hurt and somehow disgruntled when women first began
acting as if they didn't believe I would keep my word. I was very young, then, and very touchy about my
`honor,' but as the years went by I couldn't help wondering if all those women knew something about me
that I didn't know myself. The ones who didn't shy away told me that I was very different from other
men they'd tried, but they never said different in what way. When I found myself raping a woman and
actually enjoying it, I felt as though I'd betrayed everything I believed in, everything I'd ever been
taught, proving how right all those women were not to trust me. All the explanations in the world
wouldn't have prepared me for facing something like that while still drugged, so why shouldn't you have
taken a nap instead of wasting oceans of breath? The explanation couldn't have done me any good until I
was free of the drug and could think clearly again."

"Do you plan on making a career out of excusing the lousy things I do to you?" I asked, finally looking
up at him. "You get mad at the jokes, but the seriously damaging things you just laugh off. Are you a
card-carrying masochist, or just into amateur pain? And if that emotional upheaval was so inevitable that
a warning wouldn't have done anything to head it off, why didn't it happen when you raped me?"

"It didn't happen because I didn't rape you," he said with a grin, pushing some hair back from my face.
"You were so ready for me that I would have been blind to miss it, and you gave me your permission a
long time ago. If it had been any other woman that off-balance I wouldn't have been able to go against
my up-bringing by taking advantage of her, but you're not like other women. You're so different that
everyday rules don't apply to you, mine or anyone else's, and I knew that once I got around the mad you
were feeling you would respond to me the way you always do. You did respond to me, and so strongly
that you almost overwhelmed me, so if there was any rape involved, I wasn't the one guilty of it. Isn't
forcing yourself on someone rape?"

"But I didn't!" I protested, knowing he was teasing me, but finding his argument too close to the reason I
hadn't wanted to buy that outfit in the first place. "I didn't deliberately put it on to force you into
anything! It just-happened."

"Just like that," he said with another nod that rejected the whole idea. "You didn't once glance in the
mirror after getting dressed, so you had no idea what you looked like.

And since you know you're not built very well, you didn't have to spend any time wondering how you
would affect everyone. I guess you're right about it just happening. I'll order up some lunch for you
now."

He turned away from me and headed for the phone, leaving me standing there like a dummy with

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nothing to say. My mind fluttered around for a minute trying to find a counter to his contention that
didn't seem to exist, and then it found something else that gave me a small jolt. I knew Val wasn't
seriously insisting that I'd raped him, and he knew I knew it. The whole point to the silliness had been to
make me forget how I'd been feeling, to give me something else to think about besides what my
negligence had made him go through. If he'd known what to expect he could have taken it in stride, and
that was the bottom line even if he refused to admit it. I watched him using the phone with only a trace
of his original awkwardness, then turned away to reclaim the chair I'd been using. I was taking him into
a dangerous situation because I had no choice in the matter, but there was something I did have a choice
about. Val could either be my active partner or simply along for the ride, and if he was just along for the
ride the situation would not be nearly so dangerous for him. Since I owed him more than one I would
handle it that way, keeping him out of trouble even if it meant more work for me. For someone who was
just visiting he'd been hurt enough, and as he turned off the phone I promised myself that it would not
happen again.



CHAPTER 8

"Stop fidgeting," Val said to me in a low voice as we moved into the docking area. "You're supposed to
be seventeen, not seven."

"It's too bad you didn't remember that when you were buying these clothes," I almost snarled, keeping
my voice as low as his only with an effort. "You had no right forcing me into wearing them."

"I didn't buy them so you could leave them behind," he came back, able to keep the grin off his face but
not out of his eyes. "You look just the way we agreed you should, so forget about it."

"Forget about it," I muttered, then shut up before I started a real fight with him. We'd spent the last few
hours with me dredging up everything I could remember hearing about Xanadu and the Pleasure Sphere,
during which time my new clothes had been delivered. We both ignored them until business was taken
care of, but then Val had started getting stubborn about seeing how wrong the clothes were. He refused
to let me try finding something among my own things to use instead of the new stuff, and there was no
arguing with that babysitting service threat. The idea of leaving me behind really appealed to him, and
the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. I couldn't afford to be left behind, not with that service
having the help of the Station computer in keeping their charges where they belonged; it would take me
too long to get around the surveillance and follow him down. That meant I had to do things his way,
even if it made me feel like a prize fool.

"Well, Val, right on time I see," a voice called, and I looked up to see John Little walking toward us
from the shuttle lock we were heading toward. "In just a little while we'll be on Xanadu, and then I can
start introducing you to the Pleasure Sphere."

"I'm looking forward to it, John," Val answered with a sly look, and then the two of them laughed that

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dirty laugh that some men loved to share. "I don't expect to find myself bored."

"You have my word that you won't be," Little promised, and then he turned his attention to me. "Nor
will you be, Jenny. And please allow me to say how lovely you look."

His smirk was enough to get him belted under normal circumstances, and I wasn't far from being willing
to call those circumstances normal. I was wearing almost the same shade of blue I'd been wearing the
night before, but this time it was on what the woman in the shop had called a sailor dress. The thing
came high in front to hide all traces of cleavage, moved up across my shoulders and above cap sleeves to
halfway down my back in what was laughingly called a collar, fit across my hips with no strain
whatsoever, and continued on down to no more than an inch or so above my knees. A very nondescript
pair of flat shoes came along with the dress, as did a pair of white gloves, a straw-like white hat, and a
small blue purse on a white chain. I looked about as lovely as I felt, and Little knew it.

"My name is Jennifer," I told him coldly with as much scorn as I could stuff into my tone. "You make a
good friend for uncle Val, Mr. Little. Remembering my name seems to be beyond him, too. And I'm
sure that anything capable of keeping your attention must be absolutely captivating, so why would you
think I was worried about being bored?"

"That's enough, Jenny," Val put in in a hard voice, but happily nothing like the one he'd used in the
clothing shop. Little was staring at me through the smirk he hadn't allowed to disappear, and there was
nothing friendly in the observing, only calculating. "Mr. Little is a friend of mine, and I won't have you
using him as a target for your tongue. I'm sure there are places even on Xanadu where hairbrushes can
be bought."

"Hairbrushes?" Little echoed, looking over at Val. "You're supposed to buy her a hairbrush?"

"I'm considering it," Val answered, giving me that impatient, petulant look. "Not to used by her, but on
her. By me. If she doesn't behave herself."

Little found Val's threat amusing enough to chuckle at, especially when I called a blush up into my
cheeks and looked away in silent fury. I had the feeling that Val was trying to warn me not to antagonize
a twisted creep like Little, but I knew the man better than Val did. Little was not a normal AC-GC; he
had sex with other men not because he liked it, but because he hated women that much. When he
involved himself with women, it was always in a way that brought pain and terror to them, the only way
he could ever enjoy women. No matter what I did or didn't do, I would never be winning any popularity
contests where Little was the judge, so I had decided to use the situation to my own advantage. Little
already knew "Jenny" wasn't too crazy about her "uncle Val"; if I lumped him in along with Val, he
would not wonder why I wasn't around much once we got to the Pleasure Sphere. I intended making a
point of avoiding them but watching from the sidelines, waiting for the time Little guided Val right up to
Radman. At the first opportunity after the meeting broke up Radman would be mine, and then Val and I
could both forget Little and just get ourselves out of there.



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The shuttle docked right on time, took on its load, then headed back to Xanadu with all of us aboard, me
at the port, Little on the aisle, Val between us. I spent most of the trip down listening to a commentary of
the wonders of Xanadu through a set of headphones, but gave it up when I nearly laughed aloud at
hearing the Pleasure Sphere described as "a naughty delight for those daring enough to taste forbidden
fruit." The section just outside the Pleasure Sphere was reserved for everyone's aunt Hattie and uncle
Bill, who were looking for a "naughty delight"; the workers there wore peek-a-boo costumes, pretended
to be hotter than hell, and spent most of their time publicly propositioning people who never made love
with the lights on. That plus a few simple games kept the ordinary man-and-woman-on-the-street happy
as sin. The real Pleasure Sphere was not for the ordinary.

Val and Little carried on a low-voiced conversation until we grounded at Rainbow, the planet's major
port, then we and the others with us filed out into the late afternoon sunshine and down the ramp to the
circle of reception tables being set up around the shuttle. Xanadu's patrons were never put out to the
extent of having to walk anywhere unnecessarily, and the non-homogeneous shuttle group had to be
separated into its component parts before anything else could be done. The four major continents were
each represented by about 85 degrees of arc and brightly colored banners, the first depicting sunshine
and sand, the second green water and a boat, the third a forest with mountains and snow in the
background, and the fourth a fun ride in front of a roulette wheel. There were, of course, sub-sections
covering specifics under these general headings, and most of the people debarking had no difficulty in
finding the section that applied to them. The section we wanted was dull and quiet in comparison, but
the large black P on a background of lilac said something the others didn't, at least as far as the dozen
people heading for it were concerned. Strangely enough our group was quieter than any of the others,
and that made me stop and think for a minute; considering what they were going toward, maybe it wasn't
that strange after all.

Val and Little registered with one of the people under the black P, and then we were directed to a
waiting vehicle that consisted of cushioned comfort chairs and quiet, efficient people taking and serving
drink orders. The vehicle was open on all sides but the top and was large enough to hold forty or fifty
people, and once we were seated I was actually brought the glass of wine I'd asked for. Val was
pretending he didn't know what I was doing, covering himself in case anyone called him on the point, I
supposed, but I appreciated the thoughtfulness. Looking around casually is a lot easier when you can
pretend to be doing it as a fill-in between swallows.

In another twenty minutes the shuttle was empty and everyone going our way was already aboard the
vehicle, so the show was promptly put on the road. The port was large but very uninteresting, with big,
modem buildings decorating its outer edges but nothing else to look at. The vehicle started smoothly
with only a preliminary hum, to be sure not to spill the drinks, I guessed. Hors d'oeuvres consisting of
finger sandwiches and pastries were brought around by the drink servers, so I helped myself to a small
cake of the 1000 calorie variety and ate it fast, as though ashamed to have anyone catch me being young
enough to do something like that. Val was still not noticing what I was doing as far as Little was
concerned, but I caught a glimpse of amusement in his eyes showing that he hadn't missed the gesture;
after all the desserts he'd made that I'd eaten, I was sure he knew I hadn't taken the cake just to
strengthen my characterization.

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Once we left the area of the port, we found ourselves all alone on a well-paved highway that threaded
through pleasantly cool forest with birds singing in the trees. For my purposes the forest was as useful as
the port had been, so I was far from disappointed when the highway began skirting a large lake and a
dock appeared in the near distance. There was a vessel tied up at the dock that was as strange-looking a
water vehicle as the land vehicle we then rode, but I couldn't see all of it from our position on the
highway. The front of it seemed open but sectioned off, and beyond that there were parts that looked to
be entirely closed, but our angle of approach kept me from being certain.

"You should like that boat, Jenny," Little's voice came, showing my interest in our destination had been
noticed. "The crew are all employees of the Management, but the servants are slaves. You can order
them to do anything you please, and no one will mind."

"But slavery isn't legal," I said, turning my head to send him a frown where he sat. I could see from the
amusement in his eyes that I'd given him the answer he'd expected-which was the reason I'd said it in the
first place.

"On Xanadu, slavery is completely legal," he informed me, a faint, cruel smile just curving his lips. "If
you commit a crime or step out of line in some other way, you will most likely be sentenced to slavery
to work out whatever punishment you've been given. If I were you, I would be very, very careful not to
step out of line."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not liking his smile one little bit. "I don't have to worry about something
like that. I'm here as a guest, and everyone knows guests are protected."

"Your uncle Val is here as a guest," he corrected with a lot of satisfaction, sipping lazily at his drink. "As
a minor, your classification is something else entirely and not clearly defined. If you bring yourself to
the attention of the Management, they may just decide you deserve to be taught some manners. Allow
me to assure you that you would make a most desirable slave, my dear, and I would be certain to see that
I was one of the first men you were sent to serve."

"So you'd better be very careful of your behavior, little girl," Val put in with a greasy smirk while I
stared wordlessly at Little. "If you antagonize anyone here who happens to be in a position of even
moderate power, you could find yourself facing something a lot worse than having a hairbrush applied to
your backside. Not that John couldn't see to it that that was done as well."

A glance showed me that above the smirk Val's eyes were filled with warning, underscoring the speech
he'd made. Something more must have passed between him and Little, but I couldn't help keeping my
stare directly on Little himself. His threat had sounded as though he might have something specific in
mind to tie me up, and I couldn't afford to get, involved in something like that. I hadn't expected my
obnoxious act to push him that far that fast, but Little wasn't straight enough to be judged easily or
predicted with any sort of precision. I had to backpedal if I could, and hope it would do the trick.



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"t want to go back to the orbital station," I said in a voice shaky with shock, letting my eyes go
appropriately wide. "Please let me go back, uncle Val."

"Too late, Jenny." Val laughed lightly, his characterization enjoying the spot his snobbish niece had been
put on. "We're here and we're staying here, until / decide it's time to leave. Until then we'll 'be watching
to see how well you behave yourself, and if we don't like what we see, you won't like what happens."

They both laughed at the appalled expression I showed them, then went back to their private
conversation, leaving me to sink back in my chair in a thoroughly cowed manner. Inside I was cursing at
that "we'll both be watching you" phrase Val had used, and it didn't matter whether he was just being
creative in character or was warning me that Little had plans he couldn't cancel out. I couldn't afford to
be watched, not by someone who would love to turn me in to the Management, but avoiding it would
probably turn out to be easier said than done.

In another few minutes our vehicle slid to a smooth stop in front of the pretty white dock the water
vessel was tied up to, and we were all able to see how much bigger the thing looked up close. The center
section was enclosed and both ends were partitioned but open, and the bright colors it was painted
brought a festive feeling to everyone but the little girl who had been badly frightened by the two grown
men she was traveling with. Little Jenny tried hanging back when everyone began leaving the vehicle,
presumably to ride it back to the shuttle port and from there get a shuttle to the Station, but her uncle and
his friend made very sure she was with them when they began the short walk to the boarding ramp. I let
my shoulders slump and a frightened look peer out of my eyes, but made sure not to mention that I'd
never intended being left behind. People on Xanadu weren't simply allowed to board a shuttle any time
they pleased, not with all the slaves the planet boasted. If you didn't have a properly made departure
reservation you attracted official attention, and on top of that I had no intentions of leaving-until I got
what I'd come for.

Each group boarding was met by a smiling attendant, females for the men, males for the women. If the
group consisted of two and they were one male and one female, the dominant half of the partnership was
catered to; whichever it happened to be. The operation was carried off so smoothly I was sure they'd
been tipped by those working the land vehicle, which would have been the smart way to handle it. A tall,
well-made brunette came forward as soon as we reached the top of the ramp, and her smile was mostly
for Val.

"If you'll come this way, gentlemen, I'll show you to your accommodations," she said as she moved to
the left, away from the ramp. "We'll be casting off as soon as everyone from the bus is aboard, and you
might like to rest before dinner. Cocktails will be served at sundown, the meal itself at full dark. If you
need anything before then-or afterward, for that matter just press the white contact beside your door. The
Management wishes you a pleasant stay."

"Thank you," Val answered, looking the girl over carefully but only with the intensity of his role. After
his comment about being partial to dark hair and eyes, I'd been briefly worried at seeing our beautiful
guide; if he'd turned those hunters eyes on her it could have been all over for us, but apparently he had

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more control of himself than that. He watched her behind moving under the flowered sarong she wore as
she led us up a wooden corridor between what seemed to be the accommodations she'd mentioned, but
the look in his black eyes never sharpened, not even when she stopped in front of a door on our left.

"This one is yours, Mr. Little," she said, opening the door as she smiled at him. "The next one is yours,
Mr. Carter, and the last is for the young lady. I'll see each of you inside, and then leave you to your rest."

"I think I would prefer having my niece between Mr. Little and myself," Val told her, stopping her just
as she was starting for what was supposed to be his door. "Being on Xanadu and heading for the
Pleasure Sphere is beginning to frighten her, but being between the two of us ought to be reassuring. "

"Certainly, sir," the girl answered immediately, coming up with another smile. "The accommodations
are yours to arrange as you like, most especially as they'll only be for this one evening. Please follow
me."

Val sent Little a satisfied look as he and I followed the woman, but Little hadn't seemed quite as
satisfied. The last glimpse I had of him was an attempt at smiling approvingly at Val, but an angry
frustration was fighting hard to flare out of his eyes. Something had just happened that I didn't
understand, but there was no immediate way of finding out what it was.

When the girl opened the next door down the line and gestured me inside, I stepped past her to find that
the open, partitioned part of the vessel was what was used as cabins. The entire far wall of the area was
gone, showing that we were just casting off from the dock and beginning to move, slowly pulling away
from the bank and heading toward the middle of the lake. I stopped in the middle of the cabin to stare in
professional dismay at the countryside moving past, and the woman came over to put her hand on my
back.

"Don't be frightened, dear, there's a force field there to keep you from falling overboard," she said in a
gentle, unamused way. "It lets air and light through, but it won't let a human body past it. Would you
like me to walk over there with you so you can see that for yourself?"

I gave her a half-hearted smile and shook my head, which brought me another reassuring pat and smile
before she left to get Val settled in. I followed her to the door and closed it behind her, then turned back
into the cabin to look around. The area was no more than twelve by ten and made entirely of a dark,
polished wood like the corridor, with a single bunk along the wall the door was in, a piece of colored
cloth hanging on a peg set in the wall to the right, and what had to be communicating doors in both left
and right walls. There wasn't a sign of my luggage or Val's, and there wasn't even a chair to sit down on.
I sat down on what proved to be an unbelievably comfortable bunk. There was nothing to do but wait to
see what happened next, and there was no telling how long that would take.

What happened next came about ten minutes later, after I had put my cigarette out on the cabin floor and
was taking that ridiculous hat off. The white gloves were already thrown down next to the purse on my
bunk, and I was seriously considering letting the dress follow the rest when a sound came at the right-

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hand door, the one leading to Val's cabin. I got up from the bunk and slid back the latch holding the door
closed, and Val opened it then gestured me into his cabin. I stepped through the doorway, but when I
tried to close it behind me, Val shook his head.

"Leave it open," he said very softly in the trade language, our secret, unbreakable code. "I have a feeling
Little knows his way past these latches, and I don't want him wondering what we're talking about."

"What are we talking about?" I asked in the same language, relieved at the lack of tingling in the round
white earrings I was wearing. That meant our conversation hadn't triggered any listening devices, which
probably meant we weren't being monitored in any other way either. "Is the conversation going to
include the reason we played swap with the sleeping arrangements?"

"Among other things," he nodded, keeping one eye on what he could see of my cabin through the
opened door. "First I want to know if you're all right. You looked badly shaken before, but now you
seem calmer."

He took most of his attention away from my cabin to look me over carefully, just as though he were
searching for tears or something. I found it very hard to believe he was serious, but was very much
afraid that he was.

"Hey, Val, remember me?" I said, waving a hand to get his attention. "This is your intrepid partner
you're looking at, the one who can look shaken at the drop of a sneer. You're not going to start believing
what I say and do again, are you? All that happened was that I changed my line of attack because of
Little's reaction to the first version; I'm not frightened, I'm not upset, and I'm sure as hell not in need of
comforting. I also won't be any of the above even if I hang sniveling on your sleeve and coat. Do you
think you can remember that?"

"I'm not sure I can," he came back, a peculiar look mixed in with a tinge of embarrassment. "Don't you
know how real it looks, when you do things like that? You weren't pretending to be frightened earlier,
you were frightened, and even Little believed it. Staying in character to gloat was one of the hardest
things I've ever done; what I wanted to do was put you behind me, then smear Little all over the
landscape. If you have to do it, can't you tone it down a little?"

"You mean, make it unbelievable?" I asked, trying to be as gentle as possible in response to the plaintive
note in his voice. "Val, I've been doing this a long time, and I've always had an aptitude for it, so it's not
surprising that it looks real to you. It's supposed to look real, otherwise I'm wasting my time. You have
to make yourself understand that no matter how real it looks outside, inside it's just another gag I'm
pulling, on you and everyone else. Inside I'm laughing at everyone who believes me, and you don't want
to be laughed at, do you? Isn't it better to be in on the gag than taken in?"

"That was a good try, but it's not helping," he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with one
hand as he looked down at me ruefully. "Every time you wilt under Little's stare, I get the urge to wrap
my hands around his throat and squeeze. I'll try to stay in character the way I've been doing, but the

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longer this goes on, the harder it will be. If you want to go back to the Station and wait for Radman to
show up there, I'll get started making the arrangements."

"Going back to the Station is out," I growled. "This whole thing is so stupid. Look, can't we agree that if
I really need your help I'll ask for it? In this language, so there won't be any chance of confusion? If I
don't start yelling in the trade language, I'm still putting on an act and everything's fine. How does that
sound?"

"It helps," he agreed with only a trace of enthusiasm, then he grinned faintly. "Most women would want
to be protected from something like Little, but you're still running counter to the breed. Just don't run so
far counter that you close your eyes and walk blindly into whatever he puts in your way. If you do,
yelling probably won't help."

"What has he been telling you?" I asked with a frown, finally understanding why Val was being so
reflexively protective. "I know he didn't like my high and mighty act, but backing down should have
helped at least a little. He was certainly gloating hard enough."

"That's because he enjoys seeing fear in women," Val said with disgust thick in his voice and eyes, his
attention back on my cabin. "When you treated him as less than a bug, you made a permanent enemy of
him, and nothing you do now can change that. He's been trying to talk me into selling you to the
Pleasure Sphere."

"Before or after you told him selling me was what you had in mind?" I asked, making sure none of the
chill I felt reached a place where Val could see it. My partner still didn't know how far things could be
taken in the Pleasure Sphere, and considering his protective reflex, I wanted to keep it that way.

"Before," came the answer, and those eyes still kept themselves away from mine. "Selling you was his
idea, one that scared me but still brought a certain amount of interest. I told him that even if I did sell
you it would have to be a private buyer, but he's still pushing for the Sphere. A private buyer would
probably not give you everything you deserve, he insists."

I described Little's personal habits briefly but colorfully, then turned away from Val to walk to the open
side of his cabin. We were out in the middle of the lake now, and the fiery red of the setting sun was
playing over the ripples our transportation was making.

"Whatever you do, don't even pretend to agree to that," I said after a minute, feeling the fresh lake
breeze tickle through my hair and over my face. "If he's keeping after you, he's probably prepared to
record any sort of agreement he can drag out of you, and once he has that they'll come after me at light
speed. Stick to the private buyer line, and there won't be a problem."

"I'm glad you think so," he said from behind me, and somehow I had the feeling he was looking at me.
"According to my friend John, no matter whom I sell you to, I first have to have you appraised. You
know, to find out what your potentials are. He's been trying to get me to agree to having it done

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tomorrow, when we get where we're going. That's why I switched cabins with you; if we were right next
door to each other, he would have been at me non-stop. I was hoping having to go a distance through the
corridor would keep him away for a while, at least while he's still pretending to be interested only
because of our 'friendship.' He thinks I did it so that the two of us can keep an eye on you more easily."

"I wish to hell we didn't need him to lead us to Radman," I muttered, then turned away from the lake
view to find that I'd been right about being stared at. Val was not happy in the least, and I didn't have to
tell him he had company in that. "Your friend is right, so you can stop avoiding him and start agreeing.
Tell him you do want me appraised after all."

"Diana, you're out of your mind," he said harshly, those black eyes flaring at me. "If Little wants it done,
you can bet there'll be nothing but unpleasantness in it for you. Do you expect me to just stand by and
watch them do whatever they please to you?"

"That's exactly what I expect," I came back just as harshly. "It's part of the job, and that's what we're
here for, to do a job. If you can't remember that, you're useless to me, and worse than useless. And how
many times do you have to be told that my name is Jennifer? Are you trying to get me killed or taken?"

His eyes showed hurt before he turned them away from me, and that told me he didn't realize I'd slapped
at him on purpose. I had to do something to make him shed that protectiveness, or we were both going to
be in it hip-deep.

"Being appraised isn't as bad as you think it is," I told the stiffened back facing me. "It's humiliating and
degrading, but not painful. Some of the people who come here send themselves through it, others get
sent through by the people they're traveling with, as a joke. It's main purpose is to measure the physical
potential of the individual being appraised, to see if they've reached full sexual maturity or could use
some additional development. Little may want the report to turn over to Radman if the need arises to
bring his boss into it."

"And everything that brings you closer to Radman is worth whatever you have to pay for it," he said
very flatly, turning back to face me with a look in his eyes to match the tone. "I know how dedicated
you've told me you are, Jennifer, but I can't help wondering if in this case the dedication runs a little
stronger than usual. It looks to me as though you might be crossing the line between dedication and
obsession."

"If you want to know if I'm personally out for Radman's blood, the answer is yes," I told him without
any bush-beating, making no effort to avoid his gaze. "If I hadn't been given the assignment I probably
would have come after him anyway, which is why Ringer got that death warrant back into effect so fast.
He knows me well enough to know what I'll do, but he also knows I can handle it. Professionally. If this
was purely a personal hunt I would pull back and pick a better time and place, but it's not. When it's
business you don't always get to pick your spot and minute; this is business, so we stay with it. Do you
understand?"



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"The way you mean it, yes." He nodded, expressionless but not soothed. "In all other definitions of the
phrase, I don't even begin to understand. What's supposed to happen after you've been `appraised'?"

"We go deeper into the Sphere no matter what Little suggests," I said, sighing. "He must have
approached us originally with the idea of spotting us for his own organization, then got side-tracked
when I `insulted' him. If we get him close enough to where his boss is, we may force him into forgetting
his own plans and going through with the original one. "

"Which would get you sold to a small organization rather than a big one," he summed up, still
expressionless. "What I don't understand is how Little can suggest selling you to the Sphere, and you
confirming it can be done. Didn't you say Pleasure Sphere customers are protected?"

"From each other," I clarified, shifting my weight where I stood and wishing there was a chair to sit
down on. "The Sphere won't let its clientele do what it pleases to others like them, since they're all
paying customers. What you have to remember is that Little wasn't stretching things too far when he said
my `age' puts me in a different classification from other guests. Even if I become a confirmed Sphere
enthusiast during this visit, a number of years have to pass before I can come back on my own, and I
have to have the bucks as well as the desire to do it. What money I have now might be from a trust; at
what age do I get control over that trust? How good are the administrators of the trust'? What happens if
there's nothing left when I get my hands on it, or if I turn out to hate the visit? There are too many
variables involved for the Sphere to clearly classify me as part of their clientele. You're my guardian and
you're picking up the tab this time, don't forget; coming here at all marks you as a wastrel, so neither one
of us might have the wherewithal to make any further visits. If they buy me their profit is guaranteed
right now, and that would be tempting for them-if you were to offer them the deal. If you don't that's
another story entirely, and I don't think they'd give in to the temptation and come after me on their own."

"You don't think they would," he repeated, back to a flattened tone and stare. "I'm glad you can reassure
me with such positive statements. If you couldn't, I might have thought about worrying."

"People who spend their time worrying never get anything else done," I told him, unable to keep the
sourness out of my own tone. "If you want to waste time like that that's your business, but I'd rather be
doing something constructivelike making sure they don't get too interested in me. Which means I have
to adjust my character."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" he asked, ignoring the rest of what I'd said. "An established
character is usually difficult to change."

"I'm just going to have to reveal my `true' character," I said, shifting in place again. "Some time during
the meal, find an excuse to leave Little and me alone. I'll take care of the rest. Now, is there anything
else we have to talk about? If not, I'm going back to my cabin to sit down for a while."

"There's nothing more to discuss, but we have an exchange to make," he said, turning away from me to
walk to the wall near our communicating door. There was a bright piece of flowered cloth hanging there,

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something like the cloth hanging in my own cabin, and he took it down and held it out to me. "This is
what you'll be wearing to dinner tonight, just this and nothing else. My outfit is hanging on your wall."

"Looks like they go for informal dinners on this vessel," I observed, taking the rectangle of yellow and
brown cloth with a small amount of surprise. "How do you know I'm supposed to wear this, and what if I
don't want to? Or, more specifically, what if someone with a whole lot of money and pull doesn't want
to?"

"That girl who led us here told me about it," he answered, watching me examine the cloth. "And anyone
who tries refusing to wear one will be stripped forcibly and stuffed into it. She didn't put it quite that
bluntly, but the message still came through loud and clear. We all signed contracts when we got off the
shuttle, I was told, and this sort of thing is enforceable under the contract."

"I guess you could call it breaking the ice the most direct way," I said, shrugging at his implied question.
"A lot of people shuck their inhibitions with their clothes, but if you left them to do it on their own,
they'd take forever at it. This way it's like jumping into really cold water; once the initial shock is over,
you can settle down and start enjoying the swim."

"This is one swim I don't expect to enjoy," he said, still looking down at me. "No matter how many
times I jump in. You'd better watch your step with these people very carefully. If I see you taking
unnecessary chances, I'll come down on you myself. I don't like unpleasant surprises like being told
about sudden, fatal accidents."

"If anyone tries telling you I'm dead, insist on seeing the body," I advised him, making the decision to
ignore his jittering. "If there are no marks on me, I'm not dead, I'm drugged, so grab the carcass and run
like hell. Other than that, play it cool and loose."

His glance of annoyance told me how well he liked my answer, but he didn't say anything aloud as he
followed me back to my cabin to claim the blue-and-red-flowered cloth that was his dinner outfit. It was
really getting closer to sundown, and we had to dress for cocktails and dinner.

More accurately, it was necessary to undress for cocktails and dinner. I stripped off that stupid dress and
the underwear I'd been forced to put on under it, then wrapped myself in the length of cloth before
getting comfortable on the bunk again. Val had given the open wall of my cabin an unhappy look once
the cloth that was his was in his hand, and then he had gone back to his own cabin and closed the door
with very little enthusiasm. It occurred to me then that he and most of the others would feel as if they
were stripping in public when they changed, even though we were out in the middle of the lake and there
didn't seem to be anyone watching from the bank. The open wall had to be another inhibition-relaxer,
and led me to wonder how many more of them there would be. It looked like Little had been right when
he'd said the trip would not be dull.

The fiery red sun was already down behind the darkening trees on shore when a tap came at my door,
and then it was opened by the dark-haired woman who had been our guide. I'd noticed immediately that

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the doors had no locks-and with nothing movable in the cabin there was no way at all to bar them-but it
would have been out of character not to be startled by the abrupt entrance. I quickly turned my attention
from the scenery to the intruder, sitting up at the same time, and got another friendly, soothing smile for
my efforts.

"My, how pretty you look," she said, briefly examining the yellow and brown cloth I wore. She wore the
same cloth the same way I did, wrapped one and a half times around and tucked in under the left arm,
but hers looked a little more fitted than mine did. Not that mine looked all that bad. Even without a
mirror I could tell that the thin cloth was clinging to me, hugging my curves all the way down to the
middle of my thighs. Being shorter than I was hers came down a little lower, but not so much that it
really made a difference.

"Thanks," I responded with a brief smile of appreciation for her encouragement as I got to my feet. "Is it
time to go?"

"I've already called Mr. Little," she answered with a nod, stepping back to give me room to get out into
the corridor. "Once your uncle is with us, I'll show you all to the dining area. "

She turned away then and headed for the door to Val's cabin, and when I pulled my own door closed and
looked to the right, I found Little's eyes on me. Radman's lieutenant leaned against the dark wood of the
corridor wall with one shoulder, his arms folded casually across his chest, his thin body bare except for
the blue-and-red-flowered cloth wrapped around his hips. He wore it wrap-style rather than loincloth
style, and it came down longer on his thighs than mine did on me. His eyes were already on me when I
turned to see him, and although he didn't move or change his pose at all, I could feel the rushing around
inside his head as he automatically began assessing my value on the current market. His eyes touched
mine in a very businesslike way, possibly looking for the fear I'd shown him earlier, but that particular
line of attack had become inadvisable to continue. I returned his stare very briefly, a fatal calm in the
look rather than empty challenge, then turned my attention toward the plain, polished-wood wall directly
in front of me.

A minute later the dark-haired girl stepped back from Val's cabin door to give him access to the corridor,
and the look in her eyes showed how hard she was struggling to keep from being visibly impressed. Val
wore the same strip of cloth Little had on and had wrapped it in the same way, but where Little was of
average height and slender of build, Val wasn't. The cloth that was long on Little nearly had trouble
covering Val well enough, and the massive chest above it-not to mention the broad shoulders and
strongly muscled arms-turned my partner into something to make a woman lick her lips. I glanced at
him with no outward sign of interest whatsoever as he came toward me, but the dark-haired woman who
trailed along behind him couldn't say the same.

"John, this is intolerable," Val complained to Little as he passed me with the same sort of glance I had
given him. "Don't they know people came in different sizes? I feel the next thing to naked in this rig, and
it isn't fair."



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"I don't think you'll mind for long, Val," Little said with an amused chuckle, quickly pulling himself out
of the fixation he'd had on his good buddy. That stare had been half professional assessment and half
personal interest, but he'd let it go before Val might notice it. "There's a reason for dressing us all this
way, and you'll be compensated for any inconveniences you might suffer. The Management won't let
you continue feeling put-upon."

"Are you sure you won't tell me what to expect?" Val asked in the same half-petulant tone he'd been
using, looking down at Little in near annoyance. "Anticipation of delights adds to one's pleasure, you
know."

"And anticipation of unknown delights adds to it even more," Little countered with another chuckle,
then looked at the dark-haired woman. "You came to guide us, I believe?"

"Yes, sir," the woman answered, sliding carefully past Val to recapture the lead position of our little
party. "Right this way, please."

She headed back toward the spot we'd boarded, moving slowly so as not to get too far ahead of us. Little
and Val stood aside to let me go ahead of them, but there was nothing gentlemanly in the double gesture,
at least as far as Little was concerned. He wanted me to know I was being watched carefully, probably in
an attempt to dig for the fear again. I hated to disappoint him, but knowing how Val would react to my
playacting had forced me to a complete revamping of my previous plans. I glanced at Little as I passed
him, with the new me just beginning to peek out, and followed our darkhaired guide without comment.
When I got Little alone during the meal, he would understand completely about my change of character.

The smooth, clean boards of the vessel's deck were not very difficult to walk on bare-footed, and even if
they had been we didn't have very far to go. Our boarding point was all closed up when we passed it, no
more than a pretty little colored lantern marking the spot, and then we were moving into the center of the
vessel, where there were already more than the dozen people we had come aboard with. Most of them
were standing around admiring the spectacular sunset, and with the gorgeousness all around me it took a
bit of effort to remember that this was the enclosed part of the ship. The large, roomy section had to be
almost all vu-cast window, or at least the two supposedly open sides did. We followed our guide into the
center of the area, feeling a gentle lake breeze caress us, smelling the clean, fresh air all around, and then
we were being directed toward a man. He was a surprisingly big man in his early thirties, almost Val's
size, in fact, but instead of black hair and eyes his were light brown, his face square and strong with an
easy arrogance, his big body well muscled and clearly in top physical condition. His cloth wrap didn't fit
any more easily than Val's did, but the look in his eyes said he was no more than amused by it. He
sipped slowly from the glass of wine he held, his eyes moving around the large room, but when we all
stopped in front of him, his complete attention was ours.

"Mr. John Little, Mr. Valdon Carter, may I present Greg Rich, your host for this voyage," the dark-
haired woman said, standing just a little behind the big man while he bowed slightly in a somewhat
sardonic fashion to the men he'd been introduced to. "if there's anything about this voyage that disturbs
you in the least, you have only to speak to him about it and he'll have it taken care of."

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"Immediately," the man called Greg Rich added, obviously meaning it despite the amusement in his
eyes. "We'd like this little voyage to be a pleasant beginning for you, so if you come across anything you
don't like, don't worry about saying so. We expect to have the impossible asked of us, and we also
expect to be able to supply it."

"Then how about something decent to wear," Val said immediately, bringing a flash of surprise to
Little's eyes. Most people wouldn't have had the nerve to complain to Greg Rich about something the big
man obviously approved of, but Val wasn't any more like most people than I was. I felt sure it would
have been more in character for him to keep quiet-as Little's surprise seemed to indicate-but all Rich did
was grin faintly.

"Giving you something else to wear would not be impossible, but it would be impractical," he said with
no hint of apology whatsoever, his eyes surreptitiously measuring my partner. "I know how you feel
about this silly little outfit, but the Management believes that the sooner we get people to relax, the
sooner we can give them what they came here for, and one of the methods of quick relaxation they
picked is these sarongs. Being in it may bother you now, but in a little while you'll forget you even have
it on, you have my word on that. Talla, see that the gentlemen are supplied with whatever they'd like to
drink, and then show them the sunset."

The dark-haired woman smiled and gestured Little and Val after her toward a mobile bar that was being
tended by another sarong-clad, attractive female, and with Little's help Val was convinced to go along.
Both of them seemed to have forgotten about me, but when I tried to follow after them I found a big
hand on my arm.

"For some reason, you seem to have been excluded from the introductions," Greg Rich said to me, his
light brown eyes looking at me with a directness that not many men were up to. "I'll have to remember
to speak to Talla about her absentmindedness. Would you like to tell me who you are?"

"I'm Jennifer Kent," I supplied, meeting his gaze with what I hoped was an appropriate curiosity. "I'm
here with my uncle Val and his friend Mr. Little. Are you the one representing the Management here?"

"Among others," he nodded, his amusement increasing. "Would you be impressed to know that those
others all report to me?"

"Why would I be impressed?" I asked with a shrug. "Unless you own the whole shebang, you report to
someone, too. And even if you do own it, you probably have stockholders to report to. Having to answer
to other people isn't particularly impressive."

"That's very true," he agreed with a widening grin, looking down at me with increased interest. "I have a
feeling I've been misinterpreting something about you. How old are you, Jennifer?"

"I'm almost seventeen," I said with a heavy sigh designed to show exasperation. "I know being that age

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in this place is just short of illegal, but I'm tired of hearing about it, and it shouldn't be for much longer.
Every time I get a lecture about what I can and can't do, I age a little more. Before you know it, I'll be
ready to retire."

"I'm not about to let you age that fast." He laughed, taking another sip of his drink. "You're much too
attractive at the age you currently are, and I have news for the people who have been lecturing you: on
Xanadu, there's nothing you can't do-especially if you do it with me. Suppose we start by getting you a
drink."

His hand came to the middle of my back, and then I was being guided to another mobile bar, one being
tended by a very handsome male in a male sarong. He accepted my request for two inches of ambrosia
without blinking an eye, and my new friend Greg Rich didn't make a sound either. He just stood looking
down at me as though he were examining me in detail, which led me to wonder just how much interest
he was developing in me. It was probably nothing more than the urge for some bed time, in which case I
could simply indulge his curiosity and then forget about him; in the unlikely event that my luck had
turned so sour that he was interested in more than a simple roll in the hay, it would definitely be a
problem. I had enough problems without adding new ones, but the big man wasn't likely to leave the
choice about his doings to me. I accepted my drink with a friendly smile for the attractive young male
doing the bartending, trying to be obvious enough about my interest to send Greg Rich looking
elsewhere, but the vessel's Management rep was too sure about his own power to attract to be bothered
even a little.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but he's already been reserved for the evening," he told me as I tasted my
drink, his eyes laughing at me. "Won't I do for an adequate replacement, or do I make you nervous?"

"I'm not really used to men so much older than me," I told him with a candor he seemed to be expecting,
hoping it would be just that easy to get rid of him. "If I have my choice, I'd rather have someone his age."

"Being rejected in my old age is hard for me," he said with a grin he couldn't keep back, reaching out to
touch my chest just above the sarong with one finger. "You're made for men rather than boys, but I'll
make a deal with you. Spend this one evening with me, and then if you still feel you'd be happier with
someone your own age, I'll see to it that that's exactly what you get for the rest of your visit. How does
that sound?"

"I guess it'll be okay," I agreed with only a little reluctance, more relieved than I cared to show. It was
only a taste the man was interested in, and once we got where we were going, I'd be rid of him. "Do you
need to take vitamins or something first?"

He was sipping at his drink when I asked my question, and he started laughing so abruptly he nearly
choked.

"No, I don't need vitamins or something first," he managed to gasp out after a minute, shaking his head
and chuckling. "Old men of thirty-one are sometimes able to do without them, and I think this is one of

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those times. If I find myself able to perform at all after an evening of your complimentary observations.
Don't you know it isn't nice to doubt a man who has asked you to go to bed with him?"

"I was never really asked before," I said with a shrug, seeing I could give up on the ploy of trying to
make him question himself. "There was always a party to go to, and once the party really got rolling, it
usually just happened. What did you mean about the bartender being reserved? Do you mean he already
has a date?"

"I meant one of our guests reserved him," was the answer, those eyes watching me closely. "He happens
to be one of the slaves we have aboard to see to our guests. Did you want to try a slave?"

"Not particularly," I answered in turn, but made sure to sneak another look at the man who was serving
an older woman a drink with the same sort of smile he'd given me. "I don't think I like the idea of slaves,
and I certainly don't like the idea that somebody could do the same thing to me. He doesn't look like a
slave."

"Because he's not wearing chains and rags?" Greg Rich asked with renewed amusement, drawing my
eyes back to him. "That doesn't mean he isn't a slave, you know. Not all slaves are kept in chains and
rags. Your uncle seemed somewhat interested in Talla, and if he decides later that she's the one he wants,
she'll have to serve him even if she doesn't care to. That's because she's a slave, too, which you may not
have realized. Will he have to take vitamins or anything if he takes her to his cabin?"

"I have no idea what he takes or doesn't take," I told the veiled but deep interest looking down at me,
making sure to draw back into myself just a little. "My uncle doesn't like me very much, and I couldn't
care less what he does. And if he does decide to take Talla to his cabin, I feel sorry for her even if she is
a slave."

"Why?" was the next question, very gently put. "Isn't your uncle able to live up to his looks in bed? Is
that the reason you're so uninterested in older men?"

"I don't know what my uncle is like in bed, and wouldn't want to try finding out even if he asked me," I
came back with calculated stiffness, closing up even more under that light-brown scrutiny. "I told you
that he doesn't like me, and I don't mind saying the same about him."

I took a good swallow of my ambrosia as if I were trying to end the discussion, but in strictest truth I
couldn't have been happier that the point had been raised. Being able to lay an official basis for avoiding
my traveling companions in the future was a break I hadn't expected, but I wasn't in the habit of passing
on any good fortune coming my way. Greg Rich would be filing a report at the end of that voyage, and if
that report showed a reason for the wandering I intended doing, that wandering might very well be
ignored by the next Management rep I came across. There was no guarantee it would work out that way,
of course, but it was certainly something worth trying for.

"If your uncle can't see how much there is to like about you, he's a fool," my new friend assured me in a

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firm, friendly voice, raising his free hand to touch my face. "Why don't we just go look at the sunset, and
forget all about him?"

I gave him a half-smile and a nod, showing I was willing to be diverted to topics more interesting than
my uncle, and we both turned toward the wall that showed a view of the shore we had left, the shore
behind which the sun was setting. I'd thrown a quick glance behind me before turning all the way,
wondering why my jailers hadn't come back to claim me, and had gotten something of an answer. Val,
I'd seen, was just about knee deep in beautiful women, some carrying trays of snacks, some standing
empty-handed, all most likely slaves trying to interest him in reserving them for the evening. That he
was the most attractive man in the room wasn't hard to see, and even if he'd been crazy enough to walk
away from his admirers to find out what I was doing, he had a role to protect. He was stuck with the
need to inspect a bevy of beautiful girls as though he were really interested in them, and Little was
silently watching him look them over. I gazed at the beautiful red and purple and pink sunset with Greg
Rich, thought about how tough certain assignments were for poor, overwhelmed agents like Val, and
would have laughed out loud if I could have possibly gotten away with it.

In another few minutes all the guests aboard were in the area watching the sunset, and Greg Rich turned
briefly away from me to be introduced to the last of the arrivals. He'd been keeping up an easy
conversation during almost the entire time we'd stood there, and I welcomed the short period of quiet to
think about the interesting suspicion that had begun creeping up on me. I took a sip of my drink,
swallowed it carefully, then closed my eyes as though I were enjoying the lake breeze, but in reality I
was monitoring my reactions to what was going on around me. I'd known almost from the first swallow
that the ambrosia was spiked, but I hadn't been able to figure out with what. By itself the drink wasn't
really doing anything to me, but once I closed my eyes I could feel the urge toward utter relaxation and
heightened physical awareness, most likely keyed by that "breeze" that was blowing in off the vu-cast
walls. Most of the people who had come in just short of blushing at their abbreviated costumes were no
longer aware of embarrassment of any sort, and a large number of them were standing very close to the
nearest member of the opposite sex, in most instances one of the slaves. 'that told me what the rest of the
evening was destined to be like, but not at what rate it was supposed to progress.

I sighed as I opened my eyes and took another sip of my drink, briefly wondering what life would be
like without all the complications I always seemed to be running into. I didn't know what the Pleasure
Sphere people were using to hype up their guests, but I did know that although I was aware of the
goings-on, it would not be affecting me the way it did everyone else. Special Agents are conditioned to
resist as many coercions as humanly possible, and as mild a concoction as was working on me right then
didn't stand much of a chance to do what it was designed to do. I was able to know something was trying
to affect me and also know in general what it was supposed to do, but that left open the questions of how
strongly I should be affected and how quickly I was supposed to reach the end of the line. I was going to
have to fake what everybody else was really feeling, and wouldn't that be fun without answers to the
specifics!

The Lord of Luck came to my rescue in the form of Greg Rich, who reappeared at my side to put an arm
around my shoulders. Until then he hadn't really touched me at all, and the sure, decisive gesture told me

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he wasn't simply testing to see if the little girl would pull away from him in discomfort. He was
expecting the possessive hand slowly stroking my bare arm to be accepted and responded to, which
dictated what my reaction had to be. I glanced up at him with a lazy smile and snuggled just a little
against him, then continued with sunset-watching and drink-sipping.

By the time the pretty colors were faded from the sky and the gaily decorated lanterns had come on
along with the soft music, the food was beginning to be brought out and our seating arrangements were
being explained. No tables and chairs were brought into the wide area, which was to be expected from
the costumes we'd been provided with. Instead of the restraints of formal dining we were given wide
mats and cushions, two to a mat and the food placed on the floor in front of the couple on the mat. Big
wooden platters held the food, but eating utensils were also conspicuous by their absence, leaving
nothing but fingers with which to dig in. The very relaxed crowd was delighted by this innovation; and
any time anyone's glass got emptied, it was quickly refilled.

I'd more than half expected that Greg Rich would find a dim corner for us to share a mat in, so I found
myself surprised when he guided me over to a place where three mats were being arranged around floor
space adequate to hold platters enough for six. A glance at the rest of the room showed that no one was
being allowed to sit in a shadowy corner, and no couple was being left to sit alone. Six was the smallest
number of any group, and one batch even had twelve. People were laughing and talking softly, old
friends and new acquaintances alike, and just as we reached our mat the other four of our little set
reached theirs. One couple was Val and the dark-haired Talla, she trembling softly and almost afraid to
look up at him, and the other was John Little and a friend. It didn't bother anybody that Little's friend
was male, not even the male slave he had chosen, especially since they weren't the only ones in the room
to be part of a unisex couple. As long as everyone formed half of a required pair, no one made any
further demands, comments or distinctions.

"Where were you?" Val's voice came, and I looked up to see that he was talking to me, disapproval
distinct in his eyes and tone. "I expected you to be right behind me, but when I looked you weren't. Did I
give you permission to wander away?"

"I'm afraid the fault is mine," Greg Rich interrupted smoothly before I could say anything, his arm
tightening the least bit around me. I had stiffened in an automatic way at the supposed criticism, but
apparently the slip was acceptable even in the presence of whatever we'd been given in our drinks. "I
kept your niece from following you, Mr. Carter, so whatever blame there is must fall on my head. I can
see our food is on its way to us, so I suggest we all get comfortable now. "

The woman Talla began trying to get Val's attention as Greg Rich turned his own attention to showing
me which mat was ours, but she didn't have immediate success. Val spent a few seconds staring at the
big Management rep before turning his attention to the woman he'd chosen, and I sincerely hoped no one
but me had caught the look in his eyes. As I sat down on the soft, yellow mat next to my escort for the
evening I firmly kept myself from wondering about that look, but that doesn't mean I didn't worry a
little. It had been so much like Val's hunter look that it had startled me, but there had also been one of
readiness to answer a challenge before Val regained petulance, and that readiness hadn't been any part of

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the character he'd adopted. I didn't bother asking myself in what way he thought he was being
challenged, because I didn't really want to know. If I had been smart enough to tackle that assignment
alone, the question would never have come up.

Once we were all settled on the mats the food was put in front of us, and playtime began in earnest. It
was pointed out to me by Greg-"Call me Greg; or you'll start making me feel ancient again"-that we
could share the food much more easily if I sat in his lap and we fed each other, so that's what I did. I
didn't mention how ridiculous I felt sitting in a man's lap even if he was almost Val's size, and he didn't
suggest that we talk about the first thing to come up; we spent our time stuffing food in each other's
mouths, and if that had been a different time and place the silliness would have been a lot of fun. The
music changed slowly to a rhythm with a throbbing beat in it, and when we became aware of it, we
began exchanging a few sticky kisses in between bites. That turned out to be funny instead of sexy-
stickiness and chewing tend to do that to kissing-but that just made it even more fun. We laughed and
ate and had our glasses refilled, and had just as good a time as everyone else in the room.

Or, almost everyone else in the room. After we'd washed in the large bowls brought around by the
serving slaves and had dried on the towels they carried, Greg and I tried another kiss and discovered that
it was no longer funny. His arms held me tight to his chest and his lips were definitely becoming
demanding, and I didn't have to work too hard reminding myself that my resistance to him was supposed
to be just about all washed away by the drinks-and-breeze arrangement. Greg Rich was a very attractive
man, one who was looking for nothing but a brief good time, and that combination raised his interest
level for me. I returned his kiss with more youthful enthusiasm than skill, something that seemed to
amuse him, and then he was pushing me to my feet and following me erect. It was time to go elsewhere
and get comfortable it seemed, and I wasn't in any way reluctant.

When I stopped to stretch and look around the room, I discovered that more than half of those who had
been with us during the meal were no longer there. Four of five couples had decided that the walk to a
cabin would waste too much time, and were going at it right there on their mats. John Little was also
being worked on by his slave, his eyes closed at the pleasure he was being given, and then I ran into the
stare of the only one in sight who didn't seem to be part of the general good time.

"And where do you think you're going?" came the flat question which went so well with the stare, both
coming from my beloved partner. I stared at him like an idiot, totally beyond understanding what he was
doing, those black eyes unrelentingly on me despite Talla's attempt to bring his attention back to her,
and for the second time Greg Rich came to my rescue.

"She's coming with me," he told Val, the professional pleasantness in his voice beginning to be strained
around the edges as he looked down at my "uncle." "If you're worried that something will happen to her
while you're occupied with Talla, you can set your mind at rest. I'll see that she's looked after. "

"Is that all you intend doing with her?" Val asked with all the pettiness of his characterization, pushing
Talla away so that he could stand up to face us. "Just looking after her? Or is that `happening' I'm not
supposed to worry about included in the looking after?"

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"She's too young to have a slave assigned to her," Greg came back with more calm than Val was
showing. "A slave would take advantage of her lack of experience, as you know since the matter was
explained to you. I'll see that she has just as good a time as you do, which is, after all, the reason she's
here and one of the reasons I am. You don't have any objections to that, do you, Mr. Carter?"

"Of course he has no objections," John Little interrupted, shoving his slave out of the way as he climbed
hastily to his feet. "There's no reason for you to object, Val, so tell the man you don't mind."

"I didn't bring her here to be spread by every heavy breather to come by," Val muttered, but he was
clearly backing down in the face of Little's obvious but unexplained fear. He had looked away from
Greg Rich's penetrating gaze as though he were afraid of the Management rep, and to my critical eye he
hadn't done it as convincingly as he should have. I could see he hadn't wanted to back down, but happily
Greg Rich saw nothing but the end result.

"What did you bring her here for, Mr. Carter?" he asked very softly with only a hint of triumph in his
eyes, the picture of a man who was used to being deferred to. "If you didn't expect her to be given
pleasure, what did you expect?"

"That's my business," Val muttered, glancing at him while ignoring Little's very low words of urging.
"She's my niece, and what I do with her is my business."

"Only under certain conditions, Mr. Carter," Greg Rich answered as he put a hand in the middle of my
back. "The Management tends to be rather strict about the actions of their guests under all other
conditions. Ask your friend Mr. Little to explain what I mean-before you run into trouble you weren't
expecting. I wish you an enjoyable evening."

The hand in my back then moved me out of confrontation position before anything else could be said,
the body attached to the arm following along beside me as we headed toward the exit, stage left. The
thought was a stranger one than usual for me, but that's exactly how I felt, as though I were wandering
around a stage after having missed all my cues. I now knew what Val had been trying to tell me with the
odd routine he'd started, but I didn't know what to make of it. The Management didn't want me using
their slaves was the message, probably given to Val while I was being shown the sunset, but the real
reason behind the decision was a mystery. And what had Little been whispering to Val, and why had
Radman's lieutenant been so afraid'? And now that Val had put himself close to the top of Greg's shit list
because of the need to pass on information to me, how was I going to get him off it again?

I spent so much time letting all those fascinating questions fight each other back and forth in my mind,
that before I knew it a door was being opened in front of me and I was being guided into my cabin. The
room glowed with a soft, pearly pink radiance that must have made the vessel look like a mirage ship
from shore, but I wasn't given much time to admire the prettiness.

"You've been awfully quiet the last few minutes," Greg said as he closed the door, drawing my attention

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to him. "You weren't upset by what your uncle said, were you?"

"That all depends on which part of what he said you're referring to," I answered, deciding I'd better
decoy him away from thoughts about my "uncle." "And as a matter of fact, it was more what you said
that really reached me. I may be young, Mr. Rich, but I'm not entirely stupid. It was nice of you to walk
me back here, but I don't need to be done any favors. I'm sure you have `experienced' women waiting for
you, and there's no real reason to keep them waiting.

I turned away from him and walked toward the open wall of my cabin, hoping my injured-dignity
speech bought me more than the solitude I'd pretended to ask for. I needed to know what was going on
around there, but demanding the answers would have gotten me nowhere. I stopped a foot away from the
invisible force field and stared out over the darkened water, holding myself around against the stiffened
lake breeze, and a minute later two wide, warm palms were moving down my upper arms.

"I'm devastated that you found me out," he said in a half-amused murmur, letting his hands slide slowly
down my arms until he was holding me around. "Now you know that the only reason I'm here is to do
you a favor and perform my job. Sometimes duty can be hell, but I'm strong enough to take it without
flinching. "

"You expect me to believe you want to be here?" I demanded, but with the tremor in my voice that his
arms would have produced if I really had been less than seventeen. "You asked me if I wanted to try a
slave, all the time knowing I wouldn't be allowed to even if I did. And you told me I could have a slave
closer to my own age if I wanted one, and that was an out and out lie."

"It wasn't a lie, Jennifer," he said very gently, the amusement gone from his voice as his arms tightened
around me. "I could hear in your voice that you didn't really want a slave, and I discovered that that
pleased me. I wanted you to want me, and I didn't want your uncle interfering. He was the one I lied to,
not you, and I intend using the rest of this evening proving what I say. Come tomorrow morning, you
won't want anyone but me."

"I don't understand," I said shakily, turning in his arms to look up at him, very much afraid that I did
understand. "After all the beautiful, experienced women you've had, you can't be interested in me! I
know what I look like and I know how I affect men, but you're different. You're used to looks like mine."

"Used to them and just short of tired of them," he agreed with a wry smile, raising one hand to stroke my
hair. "I also never expected to be attracted to a child half my age, but if there's one thing I've learned in
this job, it's to not waste time fighting natural urges. After the first five minutes with you I knew I
wanted you, and also became determined to make you want me. There's something about you that makes
you different from any other female I've ever met, and if I have to use every ounce of authority I have on
this world to protect you from that uncle of yours, I'll do it."

"To protect me?" I repeated, and this time the shakiness was all too real. "What do I have to be protected
from?"

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"I'm not sure yet," he answered, the smile turning to a frown. "I'm convinced he brought you here with a
specific purpose in mind, and his being in the company of John Little makes me even more certain.
Little isn't the sort to be friendly with, not if you're looking for nothing but a good time, but this isn't
something you have to worry about. Little knows exactly how much power I have, and he won't take the
chance of crossing me. If things go the way I want them to, your uncle will get the same message and
back off permanently."

"I see," I muttered, and it sure as hell was no lie. Rather than being in danger of enslavement on that
world, I had acquired a champion who was determined to see to it that nothing unpleasant happened to
me-which meant that he would be watching me closely to make sure that no one took advantage of me.
It also probably meant that he was ready to turn thumbs-down on Val at the first sign of game-playing
on my "uncle's" part, and that was just ducky. I now knew why Little had been so frightened, and I
couldn't really blame him. Greg had officially classified me as a guest, and if he and Val tried doing
anything unpleasant to another guest, my protector would make sure the Management found out about
it--and that would be it for Val and John Little. At that point I wasn't even sure if Little would take the
chance of introducing Val to Radman, which would make every effort I'd made until then one big
wasted effort.

"I think you're doubting me again," Greg said, and his hand came to my chin to raise my face. I'd looked
down and away from him without realizing it, and that wasn't something he wanted. "I told you you had
nothing to worry about, and I meant it. Now I'd like to see how much l have to worry about. "

"How much you have to worry about?" I repeated, beginning to feel like an echo. "What are you talking
about?"

"I've never been captured by a woman before," he said, and the amusement was back stronger than it had
been. "I'd like to find out how tight the chains are-and just how strongly I'll be held. If I manage to break
loose-which could happen-we'll still be friends, but we just won't be any more than that. Are you ready
to help me find out?"

I gave him a shy smile and a nod, but I really felt like laughing out loud in relief. Greg Rich was catering
to his infatuation in the hopes of negating it, and that was just fine with me. As soon as he had his taste
of innocence his curiosity would be satisfied, and then he'd be able to wave a fond farewell to the young
girl who had momentarily tickled his fancy. Val and I would be able to continue along the trail to
Radman, and all of us but Radman would live happily ever after.

"Well, if you're ready and I'm ready, then let's get to it," he said, letting me go so that he could take my
hand. He led me over to the wide, comfortable bunk, sat down on it, then pulled me into his lap.

"You certainly are a big girl," he said, touching his lips to my shoulder as he reached across to tug loose
the tucked-in end of my sarong. "Is everyone in your family as large as you and your uncle?"



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"Some are bigger," I answered with a half-muffled squirm, making no attempt to help him or reach for
his own sarong. I would have to spend our time together letting him do all the work, responding
innocently, and not giving him half of what he had surely grown used to having; that way the novelty
would wear off faster, and we would suddenly become "just friends." It was a shame to waste the time
with a man like him, but there was nothing else I could do.

"Bigger maybe, but certainly not better made," he murmured, letting the cloth fall away from me before
running a hand over my left breast and down to my belly. "You look nothing but curved and girl-soft,
but there's real muscle here under this silky skin. I like seeing a woman who takes care of her body."

"I exercise a lot," I murmured back, putting my arms around his neck before starting to kiss his face
softly. I hadn't expected him to be that observant, and my excellent physical condition was another topic
it would be best to avoid.

"So do I," he said with a soft chuckle, then twisted around to move me off his lap and onto the bunk
before putting himself next to me. "I exercise as often as I can, and especially in horizontal positions.
Let's see how well we exercise together."

His lips came to me with a strength he hadn't shown earlier, his hands touching my body everywhere,
and I suddenly knew I was going to have a problem. He was built so much like Val that my body was all
ready to respond to him the way it did to Val, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I wanted to discourage
Greg Rich, not encourage him, and to accomplish that I'd have to stay completely alert rather than relax
and enjoy myself. As I was drawn into his arms and up against his body, I suddenly had the feeling that I
would have preferred a different set of arms, but that was stupid and entirely beside the point. I had no
choice about who would be holding me right then, and even if I did there was nothing wrong with the
man beside me. All he was looking for was a good time, which was better than involvement any day.



CHAPTER 9

The morning sun had been shining brightly off the lake for a while before Greg began stirring, a satisfied
feel to his muttering and movement. I lay quietly and regulated my breathing as though I were still
asleep, but I was too disgusted with myself for sleep to really have a chance at me. Although the night
had been a disaster as far as I was concerned, I was hoping hard that the man next to me would consider
it another kind of disaster and separate himself from me as fast as humanly possible. There was always
the chance that I had misinterpreted his reactions during the night and had gotten away with it after all,
but the chance was on the same order as the possibility of taking off by flapping your arms hard enough.
I could have said it was all Val's fault, but establishing a scapegoat didn't do a damned thing to change
the situation.

"Pretty little girl, you have given me one hell of a night," came the words I hadn't at all wanted to hear,
whispered softly as a big hand touched my right arm the same way. I lay facing the wall on my left side,

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Greg cozily close behind me, and I couldn't help closing my eyes in defeat. I hadn't been able to keep
from reacting to him the night before, not since he reminded me of Val, and although I hadn't used
anything Adept-taught, I also hadn't been the inexperienced innocent I'd wanted him to see. I didn't
know how deep a hole I'd dug myself, but I was bound to find out in the very near future.

"Jennifer, are you anywhere near awake?" Greg asked in a slightly louder murmur, his lips coming to
my shoulder and neck, his right hand reaching around to caress. "I have to leave soon, and I don't want
to go without saying a proper good-bye. "

I'd prefer a final one, I thought as I pretended to stir partly awake, and then moaned low without any
pretense at all. Greg wasn't as accomplished as Val when it came to raising a female's thermostat, but he
was far from clumsy and was unknowingly reaching me through that stupid conditioning my time with
Val had developed. I could have pretended disinterest if Greg hadn't been in a position to check for
himself, but he was and he did, so I couldn't. He turned me to my back and kissed his way down from
my neck to my breasts, all the while keeping his well-educated fingers busy, and the normally strong
self-control I come equipped with suddenly became missing in action. I held to his shoulder and back,
desperately searching for a way to get him away from me without getting physical or obvious, and
unexpectedly found a possibility when my eyes fell on the open wall of the cabin.

When I'd looked that way I had expected to see the open water of the lake middle with solid ground a
good distance away, but saw instead a floating city very close around us. Pastel colored buildings and
walkways rode solidly on wide, stable pontoons not forty feet away, and between us and them were
various-sized boats making a leisurely way in the same direction we were going. The occupants of the
boats were looking at our vessel with less curiosity than faint amusement, some of them frankly staring,
and it came to me that "Jennifer" should by then be free of the drink-breeze grip of the night before.

"Greg, there are people looking at us!" I gasped, squirming against the arm that held me still for his
attentions. "You've got to let me go so I can find my clothes!"

"Of course people are looking at us," he answered in a distracted murmur, tightening his hold to keep me
from slipping away. "This is the Pleasure Sphere, remember? Some people get pleasure from doing,
others from looking. Arid you can't have your clothes, at least not until after the preliminaries. Now stop
squirming around until I'm in a position to enjoy it."

His lips and tongue hadn't just been forming words during his short speech, and I hadn't been able to
keep from closing my eyes against the sensations coursing through me. It turned out that closing my
eyes was the wrong thing to do just then; before I could try any other stall, he was around third base and
sliding into home.

"No, don't," I moaned, finding it impossible to either keep him from thrusting deep or keep the words
inside. "Greg, you can't."

"Stop worrying about being watched," he chuckled in amusement, his hands smoothing my hair back as

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his hips began working, happily misinterpreting my blurted protests. "Before you leave here you'll be
completely used to it, .and this first time won't be a really good session. I have to be through and back on
duty before we dock."

He put his lips on mine, then, ending all further conversation, and turned his attention to getting through.
It didn't bother him that I was at least able to do nothing more than follow along; right then he was more
interested in simply using a female than in finding fancy response. He used me to his complete
satisfaction, taking only enough time to be sure I had some satisfaction of my own, and then he was
gone, standing up from the bunk to retrieve his wrap-around from the deck.

"You'll wear your sarong until the preliminaries are over, and then you'll be given your clothes back," he
told me as he wrapped the cloth around his middle, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at me.
"Right after that you'll find me showing up again, since I've decided to exercise one of the privileges of
my rank. Talla will be by in a short while to show you and the others to the sanitary facilities, and then
you'll- be given something to eat. Just relax and take it as it comes, and I'll see you later."

He winked at me before turning away toward the door, and once he was gone I just sat there on the bunk
with the sheet held modestly in front of me, working hard to keep the disgust I felt off my face. I'd done
a good job complicating things, and right then couldn't see any way to uncomplicate them. I'd have to
wait and see how bad it would be, and then try to think of something to shake myself loose.

I retrieved my own sarong from the floor and wrapped it around myself without giving the staring
individuals in the small boats anything to look at, noticing in passing that the clothing I'd worn onto the
vessel was gone. The security in the Pleasure Sphere was even tighter than I'd expected, and I was glad
I'd kept my earrings on. There would be nothing odd to be found in them if anyone but a member of my
department began fooling with them, but that would ruin the bug detectors in them in a permanent way.
A casual electronics check would find them inert and leave them usable, so I hoped that's all that would
be done. I touched one of the tiny buttons casually as I sat back on the bunk to wait for Talla, and felt the
soundless beep that told me the bug detector was still working.

I was expecting the arrival of the pretty woman-slave at any time, so the sound of the latch sliding back
on the communicating door between Val's cabin and mine didn't surprise me: I'd thought he still had
Talla with him, but when the door opened he walked in alone.

"Generally speaking, I'm here to check on my property," Val said in the Absari trade language, his tone
bored and slightly annoyed. "Specifically speaking, I'm here to check on my partner. Are you all right?
He didn't do anything to hurt you, did he?"

"Generally speaking, I'm resenting your insufferable attitude," I responded with the necessary stiffness,
glancing toward the small-boat watchers still looking us over. "Specifically speaking, I'm doing lousy.
Instead of turning him off the way I'd planned, I now have a new boyfriend."

"How did that happen?" he asked with a frown I was sure was real, the annoyance growing noticeably

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thicker in his voice. "I thought you knew how to handle men."

"I do," I told him, letting my tone go momentarily dry. "Why do you think I have a new boyfriend? I'll
try to get rid of him as soon as possible, but until I do you'll have to watch your step. He's not very fond
of you."

"The feeling is mutual," my trusty partner assured me, the look in his eyes hardening as he stared at me.
"Why didn't you refuse to get involved with him?"

"You're under the impression I had a choice?" I asked, having some trouble keeping the sarcasm out of
my voice. "If I had met him in my own persona, I could have either given him a friendly welcome or
sent him on his way, whichever I liked. As a little girl with a big, bad uncle, I was in no position to tell
the knight in shining armor to get lost. He's decided to protect me from you, you know."

"Bully for him," he answered sourly, leaning one hand against my cabin wall. "Where I come from, men
who want to protect women don't do it in bed. Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

"With his level of skill, if he ever hurt a woman it would have to be on purpose," I told him with a shake
of my head, briefly wondering if dear old Greg ever did get into anything like that. "Hurting an
inexperienced young female the first time you take her to bed would be crude, and my new friend is
definitely not crude. If he switches tactics, it won't be for a while yet."

"I love the way you keep reassuring me," he came back, still sounding and looking annoyed. "How fast
do you think you can get rid of him?"

"Depends on how things go." I shrugged in answer, grinning privately. "If I have to suffer playing
footsie with him for another couple of days before he gets distracted, well, the job has to come first, you
know. Have you told your buddy about your change of heart in the question of having me appraised?" '

"Yes, and he was delighted," Val answered with even more of a frown, leaning off the wall he'd had a
hand against. "We'll be making the arrangements as soon as we're off this boat. What do you mean, if
you have to `suffer' for a couple of days? You can't possibly mean you enjoy having sex with that--
conscienceless user?"

We were interrupted by the opening of my cabin door. Talla stepped in with a friendly smile for me and
a shy one for Val, and that was the end of our conversation. Which was probably a good thing. I was
immediately tempted to ask Val how he could possibly have enjoyed himself with a slave-something he
obviously had from the warm look he and Talla exchanged-and it wasn't likely my partner would have
appreciated the question.

Talla collected Little, who had already been called, and then led the three of us back toward the area
we'd had dinner in the night before. Val's good buddy was so pleased to see me he was almost civil, a
pleasantness brought about by the thought of my upcoming appraisal, no doubt, and I suddenly

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remembered I hadn't shown him my altered character. As we walked along I tried to decide if there was
enough time right then, but the decision was taken away from me.

"I must admit I was rather surprised a few moments ago, Jenny," Little said to me in his oily way, falling
back to walk next to me while Val brought up the rear. "I had expected to see you leave your cabin with
Mr. Rich rather than your uncle, as my own friend and his stayed until the last possible minute. Can it be
Mr. Rich wasn't quite as pleased as he had expected to be?"

The thought that I'd lost my powerful protector really tickled Little, an attitude that brought me the urge
to sneer in his face, but there's more than one way to rub someone's nose in the distasteful.

"He said he had to be back on duty." I shrugged, totally uncaring about the whole thing. "But he also
said he'd see me later."

"My dear girl, later he'll be gone with this boat, back to the pick-up point for the next group of guests,"
Little told me with vicious condescension, delight glowing in his eyes. "Perhaps I would do well
changing my mind about requesting you, should you ever be made a slave. Your efforts must be
devastatingly unsatisfying. "

"I don't care about anybody else any more than they care about me," I said with another shrug, giving
him the line I had intended giving him the night before. "My mother never cared about me, and even
gave me away to uncle Val. I thought for a while he might be different, but all he wants to do is get rid
of me the way my mother did. I don't care if Greg doesn't want me any more than anybody else, I never
expected him to. If they try to make me a slave, I won't do it. "

I glanced at the faint frown line that had developed between Little's brows, seeing nothing showing in
the way of suspicion, then turned away from him at Talla's gesture and went to the part of the wall she'd
indicated. The entire area was enclosed this morning, and some of the other people who had been led
into it were looking around wondering where the extra two walls had come from. The night before the
wall in front of me had been blank and had stayed blank, but right then the polished wood slid aside as
soon as I was in front of it.

The sliding panel let me into a cozy little bathroom area, complete with orange carpeting, yellow lounge,
and red dressing table and chair. I couldn't keep from wincing at the color combination as the panel
closed again behind me, but that didn't stop me from heading straight for the facilities and using them.
After that I stripped off the sarong and my earrings, and stepped into the shower, and once the water was
running I could take a couple of minutes to think.

Little had seemed surprised at my lack of fear, but not surprised to the extent of being suspicious, and
that's what I'd been trying for. It was perfectly logical for a child who was rejected by everyone around
her to in turn reject everyone else, and that despite the initial fear she'd shown in shock over a newly
threatening situation. If I couldn't show fear without taking the risk of having Val blow both our covers
I'd have to show indifference instead, and now that the indifference had been justified it ought to work.

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I'd expected more in the way of a reaction from Little than the frown I'd gotten, but he probably needed
time to adjust to the new situation he'd been hit with. Once he adjusted, he might have to be watched.

I soaked for a time in the shower before washing, then relaxed while the air jets dried me. When I left
the shower stall it was to find a fresh, neatly folded sarong lying on the spot I'd dropped the old one, but
my earrings were apparently untouched. I wrapped the clean but identical sarong around me and carried
the earrings to the dressing table, brushed my hair for a couple of minutes, then casually replaced the
earrings. The silent beep telling me they were still operational almost made me smile; it seemed there
were going to be benefits after all to being young and innocent-looking. The Sphere's security people
were apparently giving me an automatic pass, which would hopefully turn out to be one of the bigger
mistakes they'd ever made.

The dressing table had cosmetics of nearly every description, liquid, solid and invisible skin cover, eye
shadow and accenter, lid liner and lash enhancer, lip and cheek rouge and paler, permanent, semi-
permanent and temporary. There was also sparkle and decals and paint and brushes for original art work,
and every bit of it suited the coloring of a redhead, which was very thoughtful and thorough of my hosts.
It said the room had been prepared just for me, even though it had been decorated with a color scheme
designed to hurry me out as soon as possible. Not wanting any of the make-up I felt ready to be hurried
out, but then I had a thought. Kids who felt unwanted very often did things to make themselves
unwanted, as though justifying the attitude of those around them. Make-up would make the face I wore
then look cheap and used instead of fresh and innocent, and that might just be the key to sending Greg
Rich on his way. Since I had clear justification for it in any event, it was certainly worth a shot.

With the decision made I got to it, and in a way it was a lot of fun. I had never been one to enjoy heavy
make-up, but deliberately putting on a mask is another matter entirely. My skin was already light but I
lightened it further, making it look dead instead of alive. Next came very dark brow pencil, shadow and
eye liner, then very bright lip-gloss, leaving me to sit and stare at my reflection for a minute, trying to
decide if I ought to use rouge. I already looked terrible but cheekbone coloring should add to it, so I tried
it and it did. I didn't even look as wholesome as your average joy girl, and that gave me even more of a
kick than the painting up in general. I surveyed the results one last time, decided I was satisfied, and so
took myself from the dressing table and the room.

Val and Little were already back in the large area when I came out and headed toward them, and the way
they both did a double-take was really funny. Little looked startled, but Val was struck absolutely
speechless for a minute, and then he became scandalized.

"What the hell have you done to yourself?" he demanded, stepping forward to stare down at me. "You
look like a walking ad for the two-credit special."

"Why should you care how I look?" I came back with muttered belligerency, trying to remind him what
his attitude was supposed to be. He really didn't like what I'd done to myself, and was reacting outraged
when he should have been scornful.



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"What you look like reflects on me," he answered at once, doing a good job of covering up, the flicker in
his black eyes showing he'd picked up on the goof. "I don't care to have people looking at you like that
and then looking at me. Take it off at once."

"I don't have to take it off," I told the black-eyed sternness coming down at me, trying to send him a
"back off" stare. "Greg said I could do anything I pleased, and this is it. He told me I'm as much of a
guest as you are."

Mentioning Greg had made Val stop and think the way I'd wanted him to, but the sudden frustration in
his eyes said he didn't want to back off. I could see he didn't know what I was up to and didn't even
particularly care if I'd done what I had with a purpose in mind; he didn't like it and wanted it changed.
His narrowmindedness narrowed his eyes as well, but before he could say anything, another voice
interrupted.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said anything," Greg put in as he came up, flinching
theatrically when I turned my face to look at him. "I appreciate your efforts in trying to pretty up for me,
but I have a much better idea. "

He took my arm and guided me away, ignoring Little's impressed surprise and Val's silent anger in the
same way he was ignoring my feeble protests. I let him drag me away, but I was mad enough to curse
for five minutes straight in as many languages, because it was suddenly clear that Greg had been
watching me play dress-up with the make-up, and had really moved to get to me before I left the vessel.
That the bathroom had turned out to be less private than guests were led to believe wasn't the point that
bothered me; I hadn't expected any privacy on that world, so being watched in the bathroom didn't come
as a crushing shock. What got to me was that my instincts had been right, and if I'd been able to
disembark looking like payday Patty, Greg Rich probably would have faded back into the landscape, to
save face if nothing else. The main thing that had kept that from happening had been Val's failure to stay
in character, delaying me long enough for Greg to catch up to me. I'd have to remember to thank Val for
that bit of help-him and his narrowmindedness together.

I wasn't given more than a few steps worth of time to think my furious thoughts; Greg headed me right
back to the bathroom I'd come out of, and before I knew it I was inside again, but this time with
company. The hand on my arm steered me straight over to the wide sink to the left of the sliding panel,
and the mirrored wall behind it fed us our reflections when we stepped in front of it.

"Now let's get that mask washed off," Greg said briskly as he studied my reflection with half-veiled
amusement. "I like my women natural-looking, and right now you look anything but. If I have to sit
through breakfast staring at that, I'll starve from lack of appetite."

"I don't want to wash it off," I told his own reflection, immediately deciding to play stubborn. Having
fun in bed is all well and good, but most men don't consider having to deal with a balky teenager fun. If I
could get him annoyed enough, he'd walk away and forget the whole thing. "I put this make-up on
because I wanted it on, and I don't want it off. If you don't like the way I look you can just go back with

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this boat the way you're supposed to, and then you won't be bothered. If you stay, you'll have to stay
with me looking like this."

"Which you don't expect me to do under any circumstances because of what Little told you," he said,
anger showing briefly in his eyes. "No one cares about you so you don't care about anyone, and you're
ready to prove it. Well, I think I'll do a little proving of my own."

His big hand came to the back of my neck, I was bent forward over the sink, and despite my squawks of
protest the soaped water was turned on and quickly slathered over my face. It was no surprise that he
knew I'd used the water-soluble stuff instead of the permanent kind that had to be taken off with a
special solvent, but something else had been a surprise, and a nasty shock as well. He had talked about
my conversation with Little, and he hadn't been guessing: he'd known what had been said, and that
meant he'd listened in, but my earrings hadn't warned me. That in turn meant their eavesdropping
equipment was a good deal more sophisticated than I had expected it to be, and my bug-warning
earrings were absolutely useless. And I'd thought they hadn't bothered checking because of procedural
sloppiness!

Greg Rich ignored my yowling and struggling and did a thorough job of face-washing, then pulled a
towel out of the sink-counter slot and stuffed it at me. I wiped the rinse-water away fast so that I could
glare at him properly, but when I lowered the towel I found a wide grin meeting my glare.

"You have no idea how much better that is," he said with a chuckle for the outrage in my expression,
folding thick forearms over a broad chest as he looked down at me. "Hurry up and finish drying, and
we'll go and get some breakfast. "

"What n-sakes you think I want to have breakfast with you?" I demanded, deciding to see if I could get
rid of him by walking away in a huff. "You had no right doing that to me, and I don't like being treated
like a baby! Why don't you go and have breakfast with somebody, you like just as she is?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," he answered, his grin softened into a smile. "I don't know what it
is about you, Jennifer, but every time I see you with your uncle and that Little character, I get the urge to
stand in front of you. I've never felt like that about a female before, and I've decided I like the high it
gives me. You're having breakfast with me because I want you to have breakfast with me, and. if you're
not dry and ready to go in the next thirty seconds I'll take your sarong away and make you go to
breakfast in that towel. Then everyone will be able to see what a lucky man I am."

His smile had grown into a grin, but that didn't mean he was kidding. The towel he'd given me was about
eighteen inches square. just fine for drying a face or hands, not so fine for using as a sarong substitute.
As a nudist I couldn't have cared less, but Jennifer wasn't a nudist and she was the one he was talking to.
I produced a blush that set him chuckling again, then resignedly went ahead and did as I'd been told.

Val and Little were no longer outside the door when we came out, and Greg seemed to be expecting
their absence. He took my right arm and wrapped it around his left, then led me to the vessel's exit amid

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a thin stream of other departing guests. The gangway to the dock was softly carpeted, a beautiful, blue-
skied day was just starting above us, and the sleek, clean, floating outdoor restaurant we were docked
near was designed to lift the spirits, but none of it was able to do much to lighten my mood. A soft,
warm breeze fluttered my hair as we stepped onto the smooth, easy-on-the-feet flooring of our landing,
and happily Greg was too busy pointing things out to me to notice that I was holding my expression
neutral to keep it from going sour.

After Greg's speech in the bathroom, it had finally come through to me that I'd been operating under a
set of mistaken beliefs. I'd thought the attraction I held for Greg was entirely physical, but physical
actually had very little to do with it. From what he'd said, he'd played the gallant hero for a young,
helpless female for the first time in his life, and he'd discovered that he enjoyed being protective.
Working on Xanadu he couldn't have had much opportunity before I came along; after all, not many
young, helpless female-types show up there as guests. He must have had buried and suppressed
sympathies for the slaves around him, but hadn't been able to externalize them until he met me. It helped
that poor, little Jennifer was exceptionally pretty and somewhat talented in bed, but lid been considering
that the major motivating factor involved, and it wasn't. Which brought up the fascinating question: how
long would it take for the man to get bored with heroing? He was watching every move I made and
listening to every word; how was I supposed to get around that to reach Radman? I didn't know the
answers to those questions, and what was worse, didn't even know how to find out.

Val and Little were already seated at a table among the others from our vessel, food and drink is front of
them, a servant hovering nearby in case they wanted or needed anything else. There were quite a few
servants around, and every one of them was dressed in less than the guests they served, which is to say,
nothing at all. They may well have all been slaves, but not necessarily so; lots of people are willing to
work without clothing if they're paid well enough, and pay wasn't a problem in the Pleasure Sphere.
Greg nodded pleasantly to Val as we passed within ten feet of my partner's table, then led me to a table
of our own.

"I think we'll find this meal more pleasant if we share it only with each other," he said as he seated me
with my back to Val and Little, then went around to sit opposite to me. "Are you hungry?"

"I suppose so," I answered with very little enthusiasm, wondering how you turned off a man who was
determined to protect you. "Is this really the Pleasure Sphere everyone's always talking about'? It doesn't
look like that much to me."

"That's because this is only the gateway to the Sphere," he answered with a smile, gesturing over one of
the servants with the food. "The real Sphere begins once you go through the gateway, which will happen
this afternoon after you've passed your physical. I think we'll manage to impress even someone with
your refined tastes."

"Physicals?" I echoed, having forgotten about that aspect of Sphere regulations. "What kind of physicals
do you have to pass? And what happens if you don't pass'?"



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"If you don't pass, you'll be thrown to the carnivores in the arena," he said with heavy, phony menace,
then chuckled at his little joke. "Don't worry, little girl, you'll pass, and if you don't, I won't either.
Whatever happens will happen to both of us, so we'll be able to keep each other company. The physicals
are more of a weeding-out process, to make sure you don't leave with anything you didn't bring. Those
who have picked something up in their travels are guided through the Sphere in a slightly different
direction, but they don't miss out on anything, and aren't restrained in any way, except by being kept
apart from other guests. Some of them leave here without even knowing they were separated out."

He flashed me a quick grin, then gave all his attention to the food that was being put on the table
between us, totally untouched by the sickening implications of what he'd just said. If a guest came to the
Pleasure Sphere and was found to have venereal disease, he or she was not turned away. As long as they
could pay for their fun time they were given whatever they wanted-by slaves who had no choice but to
become infected. That was bad enough in itself, but I had the feeling most of the infected slaves weren't
put through one of the cures afterward; after all, why bother when they would just be infected again the
next time? I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a cigarette from the dispenser on the table,
wondering about Talla and the rest of the slaves from the vessel that had brought us. They all had to
have started with a clean bill of health, but what would be done with them if they served a guest who
was later found to be infected? Would they be given one of the cures-or would they be sent to serve in
the areas that catered to the contaminated? Did they know what they had been set up for and accept the
situation as unavoidable, or did they find out only afterward, when their bodies showed them the
shocking truth? It was impossible to imagine living like that; my mind flatly refused to consider the
possibility; even as an alternative to death.

"You aren't feeling chilly, are you, Jennifer?" Greg asked, drawing my eyes to him over my coffee cup
rim. "I thought I saw you shiver, but the sun and air are too warm to cause that. "

"No, I'm not chilly," I answered, using sips of the hot coffee to melt the remains inside me of the lie I'd
told. "How can you stuff your face like that so early in the morning"

"A good breakfast makes all the rest of the day go right," he answered with a grin, secure in the
knowledge that he had nothing to worry about even if he had picked up something from me. The cure
would be his for the taking any time he wanted it; that was one of the benefits in being a member of the
ruling class. On Xanadu the Management ruled, and I was beginning to understand just how tight the fist
was that they ruled with.

A lot less time was spent on breakfast than had been spent on dinner the night before, and by the time
we were through eating most of the tables around us were empty. I finished the last of my coffee and
stood up to join Greg, who was already on his feet and waiting to put an arm around my shoulders.

"The physical won't take long, and after they're finished with you we'll go some place to have fun until
lunch," he told me, letting his palm slide up and down my arm. "After lunch we'll be ferried over to the
far bank, and then you can decide which part of the Sphere you want to see first. It's been a couple of
years since the last time I took the tour, so I'm looking forward to it."

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He was leading me across the open eating area as he spoke, toward a pink door I'd seen the departing
women guests going through, and when we reached it we stopped. Val and Little had gone through the
light blue door to the left of the pink one some time earlier, and it had looked as though Radman's
assistant had had to really struggle to keep Val from stopping at the table Greg and I were eating at. My
partner hadn't actually done anything out of character, but he'd come close enough to make me sweat on
the inside, and I'd breathed silently in relief once he and Little had disappeared through the door. It was
obvious something was eating on Val, but since I was doing a lot better than we'd thought I would, I
couldn't imagine what it was.

Greg pressed his lips to mine as his hand patted my backside, and then I was being urged through the
pink doorway into a featureless hall that led off to the right. With the near-silent hiss of the door closing
behind me my only company I started up the hall, impatient to get through their requirements and make
an opportunity for a few private words with Val. He had to know about the surveillance we were under,
and I had to know what was bothering him. That he didn't like Greg Rich was no excuse for
unprofessional behavior, and that was something I would make him know.

After twenty feet of light-peach blankness the hall turned to the left, to a dark green waiting area about
twelve feet square. The farther end of the waiting area held four closed doors with a small but expensive
desk standing guard in front of them, and someone who was probably the desk's user was right then
guiding a wide-bottomed, sarong-clad figure through the second door on the left. The one doing the
guiding was female, and she wore a standard nurse's uniform with small, matching white cap; when the
door closed behind the portly woman she'd been guiding, she turned back to her desk and sat down
behind it.

"Just make yourself comfortable in one of the chairs, young lady," she said to me with the quickest, most
dismissing glance I'd ever seen, her eyes and hands busy with the array of buttons and screens on the
desk in front of her. "I'll let you know as soon as they're ready for you."

The two other women in the waiting area had already made themselves comfortable in chairs, so I
ignored the supposed nurse's tone and did likewise. Just as I was sitting down the woman in white got to
her feet again, gestured deferentially to the guest sitting not far from me, and guided her to the third door
from the left. That left the woman across the room as my sole waiting companion, and the way her light
eyes moved over me said I'd be better off waiting alone.

No more than five minutes passed before the second woman was conducted to the extreme right-hand
door, and then it was me and the nurse and the otherwise empty waiting room. I was just shifting in my
chair when my summons came, and predictably it was the extreme left-hand door I was directed toward.

Inside was one of the most efficient crews I'd ever run into, both in speed and thoroughness. Four nurses
and two doctors, mixed half and half male and female, met me three steps inside the door, and went into
their routine with overpowering dexterity. My sarong was replaced with a paper wrap practically in one
motion, and then I was hustled to an examining table in the midst of tons of sophisticated-looking

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equipment. Once I was on the table bodily fluids samples were taken, including a small amount of blood
from one finger. The crew worked so fast doing so many different things at the same time that I barely
knew what was being done to me, but that doesn't mean it was all over in five minutes. It was closer to
an hour before they were through with me, and by then they had to know the exact condition of every
cell in my body. They'd even used a biological detector on me, something I don't think I was supposed to
have noticed in the general flood of efficient investigations, and I wondered briefly why they'd tried
camouflaging that particular point. How sinister could checking my age be?

I was still considering the point when they turned me loose, all but a single blond-haired female who
urged me off the table and aimed me toward a door in the wall opposite to that through which I had
entered.

"Just go through that door now, dear," she said, nodding toward the exit in question. "The people out
there will direct you farther. "

"You mean they'll give me my clothes back?" I asked, resettling that paper wrap around me. "I was told I
could have my clothes back after the physical."

"I'm sure they'll do everything that has to be done," she said with a neutral smile, opening the door.
"Right now we have another guest coming in after you, so if you don't mind?"

Without waiting to find out if I minded or not she just about pushed me through the door, closing it fast
behind me. I kept myself from tripping on the bottom of the paper wrap, muttered a few opinions about
her personal habits under my breath, then turned around-to see the "they" who were waiting to do
everything that had to be done.

"Excellent physical condition and entirely clean, Alec," the bigger of the two men commented, glancing
through the papers he held. "Also undeniably less than seventeen standard years of age."

"Which means the request for appraisal is entirely understandable," the second said, his light eyes
moving slowly over me. Both of them were blonds, and both of them were wearing black uniforms with
lilac Pleasure Sphere patches on the left breast, marking them as Management personnel. I'd temporarily
forgotten about the appraisal business, but the way the second blond was looking at me would have
brought it all back even without his having spoken of it.

"Which also means we can dispense with that wrapping paper," the first one said, and his attention was
no longer on the report he held. "Just let it drop to the floor, little girl. We want to see the rest of what
we'll be working with."

I patted my lips to say something innocent and filled with lack of understanding, but a sudden, faint
blurriness interrupted the intention, then chased it away altogether. I could feel my body briefly attempt
a struggle against the blurriness and what was behind it, but the try was a washout; my vision cleared as
suddenly as it had blurred, and most of the thoughts in my head disappeared with the distortion.

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"I'll be damned," the one called Alec said as he moved nearer to peer at me more closely. "Look at that,
Gil. She's reacting to it already."

"With the dosage they used on her, I'm not surprised," Gil, the taller one, answered, coming up to the
right even as he checked again through the papers he held. "The residue in her blood from last night's
dosing was so low that her body must have neutralized the infusion almost as quickly as it was
introduced. With the appraisal ahead of her, they wanted to make sure the same didn't happen again.
She's got enough trystisil in her to turn a Fendian arena-beast shy and smiling."

As the two men had been talking one of the doors behind them had opened, and a third man had entered.
He was husky and wearing the same black uniform with lilac Pleasure Sphere patch on it, but he was
dark-haired and somehow didn't seem to fit the uniform as well. Peripheral vision kept his face indistinct
until he had moved up to stand behind and between the two blonds, and then my crawling blood stopped
dead in its sluggish track.

"I hope you understand just how irregular this is, Mr. Radman," the taller blond Gil said to the dark-
haired newcomer, a certain nervousness in his voice. "Clients aren't usually allowed in here during an
appraisal. "

"I know that, Gil, and I hope my appreciation was enough to let you and Alec understand how grateful I
am," Radman answered in a rumble with his eyes burning into me, his tongue all but licking his lips. "I
happened to be talking with a friend of mine who told me about her, and when I heard she was
scheduled for appraisal, I just hopped on back. All I want to do is look and touch a little, no harm done.
Once that trystisil wears off she won't remember anything anyway, and we've all been special friends a
long time. No one will mind. "

The blond Gil chuckled in agreement, Alec also smiling faintly, but Radman was wrong; someone in
that room did mind. At the first sight of him I'd tried fighting harder against the drug that already had me
in its grip, the drug that had already taken most of my volition, but it was still no good. Even though my
target was right in front of me, all I could do was stand there-remembering what he'd done the last time
he'd been that close to me.

"She sure is a looker," Radman went on, stepping between the two other men to get so close that I could
smell his bad breath. "Let's see what the rest of her is like."

His hands went to the paper wrap I was still holding closed around me, and if I could have snarled or
shivered or screamed, it might not have been so bad. I wanted to do all of that and a lot more, but all the
trystisil let me do was watch calmly as he tore the paper wrap just below where my fists were closed on
it. My thoughts were growing more and more vague; if they hadn't been vague, they would have been
frantic.

"Well, now, will you look at that," Alec murmured, Gil's stare and Radman's drool saying the same

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thing. Radman had let the paper wrap fall to the floor at my feet, and the weight of their eyes on me was
almost more than I could stand.

"You two sure have a sweet job," Radman rumbled, his voice so thick it could have been spread on
bread, his gaze all but consuming me. "After this, I just may apply for it myself."

"They don't usually look like that," Gil put in with an odd, faint smile, watching as Radman reached out
deliberately to touch me. His hand moved between my thighs and began caressing me, and all I wanted
to do was close my eyes and shudder.

"You know, I just thought of a way for you boys to earn a little more gratitude," Radman said suddenly,
his eyes glittering. "You can even monitor her during it, and I won't mind at all. Since she won't
remember anything that happens, there might as well be more for her not to remember."

No, please, not again, I immediately begged in my mind, aching with the need to escape the hand that
touched me in so sickeningly possessive a way, horrified that my body did nothing to try to stop it all.
Radman had raped me before putting me aboard that crippled ship, and now he wanted to do it again.

"I don't think we ought to go quite that far," Alec said with a frown for the back of Radman's head,
glancing at Gil. "Looking and touching are one thing, but to stick it to her-I think we'd all better
remember that technically she's a guest. "

"Technically she's a minor, and her uncle is the guest," Gil disagreed immediately, his eyes still locked
to me. "As long as we don't do it to him, there shouldn't be any trouble. Mr. Radman's stay here will be
much more pleasurable, you and I will have his gratitude, and after he's through we can even-monitor
her again a couple of times."

"Come on, Gil," Alec said with a good deal of exasperation while Radman grinned slowly. "You don't
mean she's got your interest, too? Aren't there enough slaves around here for you?"

"That's just the point," Gil murmured, raising his head a bit with a faint smile showing. "She isn't a slave
that anyone can have. She's . . . "

A sudden knocking interrupted whatever he was about to say, a knocking that paled his face and
immediately pulled Radman away from me. The burly slaver hurried to the far left of the room and
opened a wall cabinet to rummage around in, and as soon as his face was no longer visible, Alec moved
to the door that had been knocked on and opened it.

"What the hell is going on here?" Greg Rich demanded as he came through the door, leaving it to Alec
to swing it closed again behind him. He had exchanged his sarong for a lilac shirt and black pants and
shoes, a small Pleasure Sphere insignia on the left side of his shirt. "What are you Appraisal men doing
here, Alec?"



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"We're doing our jobs, Greg," the smaller man answered, staring at the newcomer in surprise. "This kid's
uncle requested appraisal, and we were assigned to see to it. What are you doing here?"

"I thought I was here to pick up my date," the big, brown-haired man said with a growl, fury looking out
of his eyes. "That bastard was looking for a way to screw this up, and I'll bet he thinks he found one.
How about taking my authorization for a cancel, Gil?"

"We can't do that, Greg," the taller blond said with a shake of his head, looking frustrated and annoyed.
"The man has a right to ask for appraisal for his niece, and since she's a minor, he's the only one who can
cancel. You know what would happen if we accepted your authorization and he squawked. "

"Damn him," the big man muttered, one hand rubbing his face as frustration glared out of his eyes.
"Yeah, I know what would happen, even better than you. Okay, you've got to go through with it, but
how about hurrying it up a little? I had plans to fill the time until departure."

"We'd be glad to hurry it up," Gil said in a suddenly persuasive voice, moving toward Greg to put a hand
on his shoulder. "Why don't you go back to your office or apartment, and wait there until it's finished?
As soon as it is, I'll give you a call and you can come right over."

"I'm already over, so don't go out of your way," Greg said, moving his arm to get Gil's hand off his
shoulder. "How long do you expect it to take you to put her through her paces?"

"The situational alone will take better than an hour," Gil answered with the frustration back, clearly
wishing he could just order Greg out. "And that doesn't count any of the rest of it. You know we're also
supposed to check to see what sort of a slave she'd make if she tests out sensual enough, and just looking
at her takes all the if out of the question. Don't you think you'd be better off going back . . . "

"No," Greg interrupted without waiting to hear the rest of it, his brown eyes cold. "You know that with
one like her nothing but the situational will give you any real information, so why screw around with the
rest of it? Why are you stalling, Gil?"

"I'm not stalling!" Gil came back sharply, his eyes flickering briefly to Alec, who stood silent behind
Greg. "It just doesn't happen to be proper procedure! The routine still gives us information, even if it
isn't complete! But if you insist we go directly to the situational . . ."

"That's exactly what I do insist on," Greg interrupted again, his tone entirely uncompromising. "You can
blame the loss of the additional information on me."

"And don't think I won't," Gil came back, a thinly veiled hatred in his voice, and then he turned from
Greg to stalk over to me. "Come with me, little girl. We've got to get on with it as fast as we can. There's
someone here waiting for you who can't wait to get in with it."

He put his hand out to me, clearly expecting me to take it, and although I didn't want to, I dropped the

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crumpled ball of paper I had in my left hand and reached out to the bigger hand being offered to me.
There was no way I could have refused, and none of them seemed to expect anything else. Alec went to
a door in the wall to the right and opened it, then stood aside while Gil led me through.

The room beyond the doorway was very dim, just short of being dark. Straight ahead I could see the
outline of a small, raised circular platform, but instead of going to it I was led to the left, to what looked
like an examining table surrounded by machinery. As we moved forward gentle lighting came on; I was
given a low stool to step on to reach the table, and then was directed to lie down on the soft, pliable
skinlike surface of the thing.

"This part of the operation is mostly mine," Alec said, coming over to the table to look down at me
where I lay. "The first thing we have to do is get these electrodes and sensors attached to you."

"What are they all for?" Greg asked, sounding friendlier as he stepped closer to stand behind Alec's right
shoulder, watching the blond man reach for something behind my head. "Don't electrodes and sensors do
the same thing?"

"Not in this equipment," Alec answered cheerfully, pulling out thin wires from the place behind my
head. "The electrodes deal with brain output, the sensors with bodily reactions-and both of them are
capable of directing and controlling their respective areas as well as recording data. We rely on
suggestion a good deal with our subjects, but suggestion alone doesn't do what we want it to."

While he spoke, he was attaching the tiny pad-endings of the thin wires to my face and head, pressing
them gently into place where they clung without adhesive. I was aware of everything being done to me
but none of it seemed to matter any longer, none of it had meaning that had to be thought about or
worried over. The table I lay on was very soft and comfortable, I was scarcely aware of the wires being
attached to me, and the fourth figure that hung back near the door we'd come through barely made me
want to shiver.

"Now for the sensors," Alec said, moving a short distance to his right along the table I lay on. "Raise
your eyes to the ceiling, Jennifer, and don't move unless you feel something that forces you to move."

I raised my eyes to the plain, pale yellow ceiling as directed, but the first sensation that came. didn't
cause me to move. Alec-or someone-was closing thick, soft straps over my wrists where they lay on the
table at my sides, and although something very faint inside me wanted to fight against being tied down
that way, none of the rest of me felt the same.

"Do you expect her to try to escape?" Greg's voice came, amused. "And do you expect the rest of us to
be too weak and helpless to stop her if she does try?"

"The restraints are mainly for the situational," Gil's voice broke in, sounding faintly distracted. "Are you
ready, Alec?"



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"Starting right now," Alec acknowledged, also sounding distracted, and then something touched my
breasts. First the right nipple and then the left developed the sensation of being held between gently
caressing fingers, and I couldn't keep from moving somewhat as the fingers continued caressing.

"Good Lord, will you look at these readings," Gil said, his voice uneven. "Sensual isn't the word for her.
She must respond to a man with everything in her! You won't Fee something like this in more than one
woman in a hundred hundred thousand!"

"And with only two sensors in place," Alec pointed out, still sounding distracted. "No wonder Greg is in
such a hurry. A very large portion of this part of her nature must come through during her times of full
consciousness."

"Making her the next thing to Primal Woman," Gil added with barely concealed frustration. "it would
take a lot of man to hold the interest of one like her, especially once she enters her peak sexual years.
Lucky for you you're around now instead of then, Greg; she's still young so she tolerates you. Once she
matures, though-all you'd be good for then would be to help pass some otherwise empty time."

"As I recall it, my rating is still higher than yours, Gil," Greg came back, his tone very carefully
controlled for evenness. "And I've already proved I can reach her where she lives arid give her
something to remember. I tend to doubt you'd be able to do half that."

"How about leaving the cattiness to the girls, you two," Alec put in, nevertheless sounding faintly
amused. "None of us could hold the permanent attention of a female like this, and I don't know that I'd
want to be a man who could. Considering how inadequate other females would be for him, her male
counterpart would be a walking mountain of frustration until he found her-if he found her. If he didn't,
he'd never have-this."

Without leaving my breasts those caressing hands spread to stroke my neck and thighs, the touch on my
neck more like feather-light kisses. My body had begun to bum with the demand born in my blood,
setting me to moving on the very soft skin beneath my back, a mindless, unswallowable moan forcing its
way from my throat. I needed something from a very specific someone, someone who wasn't there.

"While continuing to keep your eyes on the ceiling, Jennifer, picture the most attractive man you've ever
seen," Alec said, his voice coming from right beside my ear even though I knew he stood toward the feet
end of my table. "This man will be kneeling above you, and if you're a good girl, he'll give you what you
need."

He appeared above me just the way Alec had said, the black eyes under black hair looking down at me
as I continued to stare up at the ceiling. I wanted to raise my hands to the broadness of his shoulders and
lean into the caressing of his fingers on my breasts, but something held my wrists to the table and I
couldn't free them. He grinned at my helplessness and leaned down to kiss my throat, his clear intention
to take his time, but he should have known better by then than to try that garbage with me.



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"What happened?" Gil's voice came, sounding puzzled. "She's starting to turn off."

"I must have somehow miscued her," Alec said, his voice again coming from where he stood. "I'll get
her back to where she was, and then we'll put her straight into the situational. Jennifer," and his voice
had shifted back to being near my ear, "there is no longer anyone above you, no longer anyone for you
to picture. Close your eyes and simply feel the sensations being given your body."

My annoyance disappeared with the figure above me, and when I closed my eyes it was to feel the
caressing all over again, this time spreading to the very center of my being. Gentle, demanding fingers
now moved between my thighs, and the moaning I did was louder and more deeply felt than what I'd
done before. I moved against the sensations, trying to escape them, pulling at the straps holding my
wrists in place, and gentle laughter sounded in my ear.

"You seem very much in need, girl, but that's to be expected," a voice said through the laughter. "In the
place where you will soon find yourself, female slaves are kept in constant need so that they will always
please the men who use them. You will have been a slave long enough to have learned how to keep
yourself alive through obedience, but you have never given up the dream of finding something more in
your captivity-and someone more. You are, at the current time, unaware of it, but those things you seek
are just before you."

The voice droned so insistently that I began to feel myself going away from the table and the dim room,
away to a place a small part of me didn't want to go. That small part fought to stay where I was,
struggled with all the strength left to it, but that strength was useless against the voice that continued.

"Sink down deeper and deeper, and picture in your mind's eye the hall you now traverse, the hall of the
palace in which you serve as a slave," the voice said, taking me over completely. "The columns tower
above you as you walk, carrying your small burden, and the guards who stand beside the columns let
their eyes touch you as you pass them . . . ."



CHAPTER 10

The hall was long and cold and silent, stretching in its marble grandeur far ahead of me as well as above
and all around. I walked the marble equally as silently in my bare feet, attempting to keep a shiver from
touching my half-naked body, knowing a shiver might well spill the contents of the bowl I carried. The
contents were nothing to anyone not a slave, merely a thick meat stew, yet if I were to spill it I would be
well beaten. I had walked that hall many times in my slavery in that place, and yet its ability to cause me
to wish to shiver had never abated.

Perhaps the eyes of the guardsmen had a deal to do with the way that hall affected me, I thought as I
continued on, seeking to make myself as small and nearly invisible as possible. They stood before the
countless, towering columns lining the hall, their red and gold trappings marking them out clearly from

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the milk-white and pale blue and gray of the marble, their large bodies unmoving save for the shift of
their eyes. Those eyes ever shifted to me in inspection, observing the manner in which it continued to
disturb me to be bare-breasted, despite the length of time I had been slave, despite the slave nectar
spilled down my throat and the slave salve spread upon my private parts each morning. In some manner
they knew I feared them as well as desired them, and this brought them amusement.

"Slave." The single word brought me quickly to a halt, before a guardsman who stood no post and who
was therefore free to address me. A leader of fifty he was, perhaps inspecting those of his command who
stood their watches, one who had momentarily turned from his men to the inspection of a slave. I stood
before him with head down, and yet was I able to feel the weight of his eyes as they touched the long red
hair streaming down my back, the bare, full breasts which thrust out before me, the tiny bit of gold
skirting which circled my hips and barely covered my privacy, the thin, golden bracelets which held my
wrists and marked me as a slave. Despite my earlier resolve I began trembling as I stood before him, and
his amusement came forth in low laughter.

"You are indeed an excellent choice for the task, slave," he said, his left hand moving from the hilt of his
sword to my chin. My face was raised so that I must look him in the eyes, and I found his gaze as sky-
colored as mine. "You carry a bowl meant for the prisoner, do you not?"

"Yes, master," I whispered, knowing that although there were many prisoners, the guard leader referred
to the newest, the one who was prisoned in the palace itself rather than below it. It was rumored among
the slaves that the Duke dared not harm him, yet was the reason for this unknown.

"When you offer the bowl, do not fail to offer yourself as well," he said, continuing to hold my gaze
with his. "What number of times have you given service this day?"

"Four times, master, only four," I replied with a whimper I could not restrain, aflame from the
meaningless touch of his finger to my chin. "Allow me to serve you as well, master, and I will bring you
great pleasure. A slave asks only to serve you! "

"Another use and you would claw through the bars of the prisoner's cage," the guard leader said with a
snort of derision, releasing my chin and refusing me, all at once. "You will first deliver his bowl of stew,
and then we will see what further use you will have. See that he desires you."

"Yes, master," I whispered in answer, backing a step before turning from him and continuing on my
way. The eyes of the silent, unmoving guardsmen followed me with their usual amusement, knowing I
feared their ability to refuse me as greatly as I desired their use. I was a slave and was given no choice
save to fear them and desire them, and this they knew as well.

Some distance down the hall, to the left, stood a wide door with three guardsmen before it. These
guardsmen held more than a merely decorative post, therefore were they more alert than amused at my
approach. After a moment I was allowed within the door, yet not before they had each of them touched
me and spoken of having me serve them when their duty was done. I stood just within the chamber door

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after it had been closed behind me, trembling from the touch of those I had been made to desire so
greatly, unhearing and unseeing in my misery till what occurred in the chamber intruded itself.

The chamber itself was large and well-appointed, with polished darkwood lining its walls, torches
glowing brightly in its unwindowed dimensions, expensively woven carpeting covering portions of its
marble floors, silk-covered furniture arranged here and there. In the very center of the chamber stood a
large metal cage, and within the cage sat the one who was called the prisoner. Large was this man, larger
than any guardsman of the palace, clad in the sort of mid-thigh-length tunic worn by them, yet in a blue
rather than in guardsman red. Brown of hair and eye was he, and much did it seem that he should also be
clad in the golden armor and weaponry of the guardsmen, yet he was not. About his wrists were wide
golden bands, much the same as those about my wrists although larger, their presence proclaiming him
slave as clearly as mine proclaimed the same of me. About his throat was another band of gold, a golden
chain leading from it to be bolted to the floor of his cage, and clearly had he been well-beaten at the time
of his capture. At the moment I looked toward him he merely sat within the bars of confinement, yet the
two slaves before his cage were not equally silent.

" . . . must say how pleasing it is to see a slave who is not female, sister," said one, moving her body
before the prisoner who stared wordlessly upon her. "And yet, what of the service he must perform?
How is he to please the guardsmen he is given to?"

"The guardsmen will take pleasure from him in the only way they might," said the second. "Which is a
great pity," said the first, raising her arms behind her head so that her breasts might thrust out even
farther. "I am hot enough to serve a dozen men, yet must look elsewhere for a man to pleasure. There are
none here save a slave."

Both then laughed in great delight at the manner in which the prisoner snarled and attempted to reach
through the bars of his cage to them, for they stood well enough back that they were beyond his reach.
They stood a moment longer laughing at his futile grasping before turning from him, gathered together
the cloths and other cleaning things they had used upon the chamber, then left through the door by which
I had entered. When I saw the door pulled to I looked again upon the prisoner, and this time found his
eyes upon me.

"Have you, too, come to torment me?" he demanded, the chain leading to his throat taut from the
kneeling position he yet remained in. He crouched with one larger fist wrapped about a bar of his cage,
and truly did he seem prepared to spring, as though he were some beast restrained against his bestiality.

"I have come only to bring you this stew," I replied, pacing forward slowly till I stood where the two
slaves had stood. "Unlike others, I would not torment a slave like myself with that which he may not
have."

"Then you are the sole denizen of this place who feels so," he growled in answer, his brown eyes hard
upon me, and then he sat where previously he had crouched. "Bring the stew closer, girl. I will not
pounce upon you and steal that which has been denied me."

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"Were it possible for you to have me through those bars, there would be no question of theft to the
matter," I said very softly, stepping forward to put the bowl in his reach. "As I am a slave, it would not
be possible for me to refuse you. "

"Surely a slave such as you is permitted to refuse a slave such as I have been declared," he said, taking
the bowl through the bars though his eyes remained upon me. "Those two before you seemed to have
little difficulty in merely flaunting ,themselves. "

"They are cleaning and serving slaves," I said, settling to my heels beside the cage and lowering my eyes
before his gaze. "They are prepared to a lesser extent than slaves such as I, who are meant for no other
thing than to serve masters. With each master I serve my need to serve grows stronger, so that I am able
to bring great pleasure to many men each. day. I serve till I fall senseless from the effort, and while I lay
senseless my body is tended. When I awaken with the morning sun, I am again prepared to serve."

"And again and again," he said, swallowing and chewing at the stew, though taking little notice of it.
"You are set to giving service without end, and I am able to find no end to lack of service. We seem an
oddly matched pair, you and I. For what reason have they had you bring me this sustenance?"

"I was to offer myself to you with the stew," I replied, my hushed voice refusing to remain tremorless,
my eyes unable to rise above his wide, strong hands on the bowl. "I know not how you were to accept or
reject the offer, but I was to cause you to desire me."

"You have succeeded," he said, putting aside the bowl he had emptied so quickly. "It seems to me,
however, that you have not attempted my seduction with the ardor which was intended. I would know
why you disobeyed-and what might become of you because of it."

"I cannot find it within me to-seek advantage over one who-is caught by the same bonds which hold
me," I whispered, finding it impossible to quiet the turmoil which whirled me about. "When they learn I
have disobeyed I will be punished, and yet-it will not be the first punishment I have been given."

"You sacrifice yourself for a stranger in need," he observed quietly, an odd tone to his voice. "There are
few who would do such a thing for one unable to return the boon, yet you need not fear. You have
succeeded in all you were sent to do, and that despite my own resolve to the contrary. You need not fear
punishment."

I raised my eyes to his when his great hand came gently to my face-then gasped in startlement and
backed to the bars of his cage when the chamber door was suddenly thrust open. The leader of fifty
appeared with three guardsmen in his wake, and all strode insolently toward the cage of the prisoner:

"His Grace sends you greetings, Your Highness," said the leader of fifty when he stood no more than
two paces before the cage, his eyes and tone as insolent as his stride had been. "Are your
accommodations to your liking? Your meals adequately and artistically prepared? The needs of your

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body seen to by our slaves?"

"Most certainly, leader," replied the prisoner, his tone having turned to a drawl despite the sharp anger in
his eyes. "A cage is ever my first choice in accommodations, I rarely eat meat more often than once in
two days, and I often go without tasting female delights which are presented me. Please convey to the
Duke my thanks for his hospitality."

"The Duke will be gladdened by the thanks of Prince Gamoy, youngest son of our lord King," said the
leader, offering a mock bow to the prisoner. "Perhaps Your Highness will consider granting the Duke an
audience, during which time he might discuss certain pressing questions he would like to put to you."

"l, too, have questions which are pressing," said the prisoner, his tone calm with the anger remaining
beneath. "For what reason have I been treated in this manner, and what has become of my men? For
what reason were we fallen upon without warning at our appearance? For what conceivable reason . . . "

"Your Highness, please," interrupted the leader with one hand raised, this time taken with mock dismay.
"Did we not ask the reason for your presence before offering our hospitality? Did we not request the
location of your father's forces with due courtesy? Did we not inquire politely concerning the thoughts
of your father in connection with the Duke? What more would you have had of us?"

"I would have had belief concerning my replies," said the prisoner, his voice now cold as mountainous
heights. "My men and I sought temporary shelter after our hunting trip, I have never asked my father's
thoughts upon the Duke, and our forces are deployed in whatever manner our generals have seen fit to
deploy them. What occurs here in the Duke's realm, that he seeks so ardently to discover my father's
thoughts and doings?"

"What occurs here or does not occur is none of your concern, Your Highness," returned the leader, his
voice exquisitely polite despite the slapping insult of his words and the smirk of a smile he wore. "I shall
see to it that a truly adequate meal is brought you, and also offer you the immediate use of this slave.
Too, new accommodations will be prepared, so that you may quickly be transferred to them."

``In just so off-hand a manner?" demanded the prisoner, his brown eyes narrowing. "For no other reason
than it now pleases you to provide such things?"

"Our reason for providing such things will be more than adequate, Your Highness," said the leader, his
smirk somewhat widened. "After you have filled your belly and filled this slave, you will speak a time
with the Duke and give him the answers he requests from you. Should he be pleased with your answers,
your new accommodations will be an apartment filled with all the slaves you care to demand. Should the
Duke find himself disappointed with your replies, however, your new accommodations will be a cell in
our dungeons, handily near the precincts of our torturer. The choice, of course, will be solely yours."

Again a mock bow was sent toward the prisoner, and then the leader gestured to the guardsman who
stood to his right. The guardsman came forward, dragged me to my feet by one arm; then took me to the

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side of the cage where another guardsman stood with a key in his hand. The key saw to the unlocking of
the cage, I was thrust inside, and then the cage was relocked, which was the thing the leader had been
awaiting. He turned without further word or look, led his three to the chamber door, and departed as
quickly as he had come.

"Twisted tool of a twisted master!" spat the prisoner in a low growl,. his gaze hard upon the door which
had given the leader exit, his great hands closed into fists. His anger frightened me a good deal, causing
me to stand trembling beside the back wall of the cage, and then the prisoner's eyes came to me. "Heard
you the insolence of the fool?" he demanded, turning somewhat toward me. "Are you able to credit such
ravings?"

"He spoke lies," I whispered, sinking to my knees, trembling even more greatly. "No matter the words
you give the Duke, he will not release you. He has often boasted that never has he released a slave
already enslaved, and also that never will he do so. You will be a slave for as long as you are allowed to
live."

"And such a fate disturbs you, I see," he said, for some reason faintly amused at the observation. "I have
been given a slave whose loss I should not find myself able to countenance, and will therefore speak the
words the Duke lusts after, so they believe. My well known and more than often propensity for fine
foods and finer females is meant to coerce me into complying with the wishes of my captors, and the
slave I am given speaks truth rather than flattering lies. Have you no knowledge of who your masters
are, slave?"

"My masters are yours, and this I do indeed regret deeply," I replied, lowering my gaze. "When free my
position was not yours, yet am I able to feel your loss as my own."

"A loss you may now in some degree assuage," he' said with great gentleness, causing me to look up
again. "You have been put in this cage to give me pleasure, therefore would I have you come to me
before you are again removed. "

"You-wish me to serve you?" I whispered, disbelieving the possibility that fate might have turned so
kind. "You will not refuse me so that you might withstand their importunities?"

"I am able to withstand a great deal when once I have had my fill of pleasure." He laughed, raising gold-
braceleted arms to me. "Do you mean to force me to do no more than look upon you?"

From the moment I had first seen the prisoner, my desire for him had been great even above the forced
urgings of my body. Gladly and willingly did I wish to give myself to him, and now he had indicated he
desired me as well. I put my palms to the cold metal of the cage floor before my knees, crawled quickly
to where he sat, then gasped with the heat rushing through me when he folded me in his arms. So broad
was his chest, so strong his arms, so demanding his lips and caressing hands! I melted to him in
complete helplessness, and his chuckle indicated he was well aware of my state.



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"It has never before been my pleasure to have so hot a slave," he murmured after a time, holding me to
his chest with one arm the while his free hand caressed my privacy with eager anticipation. "Am I now
your master, slave?"

"We both of us serve the same master," I gasped out, attempting to touch him in every way I might. "I
am the slave of another, yet I am yours to use in any manner you wish, a thing I give thanks for with
every fiber of my being."

"And yet you will not see me as your master," he said, the amusement continuing. "You must be taught,
I think, that to wear the golden bands of a slave does not make one a slave. "

His touch upon me changed then, and so abruptly complete was his command over my womanhood that
speech was lost to me, breath was lost, and nearly did consciousness join them. I had believed I knew
the meaning of need earlier; the true meaning of the state was now brought home to me, and all save
mewling proved beyond my ability. I clutched at the man who held me, my breasts pressed to the cloth
covering his chest, my lips parted wide in disbelief, my eyes as wide and staring.

°'I am the master of any woman I use, be she slave or freed," he murmured, putting his lips to my hair.
"Who is your master, pretty slave?"

"You, master, you, master!" I whispered helplessly, able to speak no other thing than the truth. "Please,
master, have me now!"

"And so I shall," he said with a laugh, putting me to my back upon the cold metal of the cage floor. "See
that you greet my entrance with proper abandon."

Had it been necessary to lie still or give up my life, I would not have survived the following moments.
He entered me with a thrust of metal, and thereafter all thought and volition were lost to me. He used me
till my own raging need was nearly gone, spent a short time rekindling it, then put me to my hands and
knees. Just as he was again entering me a number of slaves arrived with many platters of food, yet he
continued to use me despite their giggling amusement. That I was still unable to resist him amused them
even more, for they were serving slaves and only prepared against the possibility of a master
unexpectedly desiring them. I was made to serve completely and acknowledge the prisoner as my
master, and when I was at last allowed to lie belly down at the end of the service, I knew I had once
again spoken the truth. Never before had I been used as the prisoner had used me, and truly had it been
fitting that I call him master.

The prisoner accepted the food brought him by taking it through the bars of his cage, and once the
serving slaves had gone he insisted that I share the bounty given him. Half of the meat and vegetables
and breads were eaten by him, and then the balance of the serving was given to me. It had been so long
since the last time I had eaten such food that I was able to do no more than taste it, which the prisoner
saw yet made no comment upon. When he was done with all he wished to eat he stretched hugely, then
looked upon me with bright brown eyes.

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"I have just proven to myself that a tasty wench is more toothsome than a tasty meal," he said, reaching
forth to touch his palm to my face. "You are by far the best I have ever enjoyed, and I shall not allow
you to stray from my side. Are you prepared for our escape?"

"Escape?" I echoed in shock, trembling more from the earlier words he had spoken. He would not allow
me to stray from his side! Never had I expected to hear such a thing, and the thrill which coursed
through me was nearly unbearable.

"Yes, escape," he agreed with a chuckle and a grin, .reaching into his blue tunic from underneath. "They
will soon come for me for that discussion with the Duke, and it would be wise to be gone before that
even if it were not time for the thing according to my own schedule. Remain close behind me and make
no sound, yet be prepared to aid me should I require your aid."

Ibis hand then drew forth two keys from his tunic, keys which had been sewn beneath the cloth, keys
which were clearly for the collar about his neck and the door of his cage. I watched in silence as he
unlocked the collar and then moved to the door, keeping my questions unspoken as I had been bidden to
do. Where could those keys have come from? What schedule might he be speaking of? And what aid
might I conceivably be able to give such a man?

In another moment the cage door stood open and the prisoner was able to step out, therefore did I hurry
to follow as I had been told to do. I surely expected him to move then to the door leading out into the
hall, yet there was a smaller, less imposing door in the back of the chamber which immediately became
his objective. He moved quickly and quietly to it, listened briefly, then turned to look down at me.

"There is supposed to be no more than a single guardsman beyond this door," he whispered very low,
barely breathing the words. "The guardsman is also purportedly one who considers his own comfort and
pleasure before duty. If you were to go out there and beg to serve him, he would soon be too deeply
immersed to perceive my departure. Are you willing to aid me in such a manner?"

"I would aid you in whatever manner you required to effect your escape," I returned in a similar whisper,
warmed beyond words that he had asked rather than command. "Your freedom is as precious to me as it
surely is to you."

"I expected no other reply from you," he whispered again with a gentle smile, briefly touching my face.
"My freedom, however, will also mean the freedom of others as well. Take yourself through the door
quickly now."

I stepped to the door as rapidly as the urgency in his tone commanded, opened it, and slipped through,
even more thrilled than I had earlier been. Freedom for others, he had said, when I had thought the
priceless state forever beyond me. It was also my own freedom I strove for, and although I would have
done the thing for him alone, the action now had other, fuller meaning.



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Beyond the door, in a dim, narrow back hall, indeed stood only a single guardsman, the sole living thing
to be seen even to the many cross-corridors visible. He turned quickly with hand to hilt when I emerged
from the chamber, yet relaxed the pose and looked closely upon me when he saw I was no other thing
than a slave.

"Master, I beg to serve you," I breathed, moving near to him so that I might look up into his eyes. "I
have served no more than four masters this day, and the prisoner will not have me. I am in very great
need, and abjectly beg to serve you. "

"That fool in the cage refused to have you?" the guardsman asked with brows raised in question, his
light eyes scornful. "Clearly he has lost either his sight or his manhood, and yer I must also refuse you. I
am on duty, and may not now use a slave. "

"Master, just a brief use, I beg you," I wheedled, touching his breastplate with my bare nipples. My flesh
showed him clearly that I was indeed in need of use, a state the prisoner's use had intensified. "There are
none about to see us, and none need know. I will give you pleasure the likes of which you have not often
had. Please, master!"

"You beg with great attractiveness, young slave," he replied, his interest and amusement quite evident.
"Perhaps a brief use, with none the wiser . . . "

"Oh, yes, master, thank you, master," I babbled, truly relieved that he would see to me. My need to serve
had grown so great that it was well-nigh crippling, nearly overriding my true purpose in approaching
him. I moved to the right of the door, to the nearest, darkened cross-corridor, half drawing hire with me,
half being eagerly followed.

Within the darkened corridor I was pulled roughly against the chestplate of the guardsman, a fist
tightened in my hair, and then my lips were his, to be taken brutally and with much lust.' I moaned at the
delay forced upon me, causing him to laugh softly, and then I was turned with my back to him and
thrown to my hands and knees. The prisoner had also used me in such a position, yet his use had brought
pleasure to me as well as to himself. This guardsman began forcing himself into me in a manner which
would bring release to him alone, and although I begged and pleaded in whispers, I was made to accept
him and give him the pleasure he demanded. I sobbed soundlessly with the increase in need he brought
me the while he laughed well at the jest he perpetrated, and when he was done I was made to reawaken
him so that I, too, might be seen to. His use was jarring and brutal, completely selfish, and yet I wept in
his arms and gave him unending thanks for the gift of his manhood.

When he was at last done with me, the guardsman returned to his post the while I lay briefly upon the
stone of the floor, drinking in the sensation of satiety. Not long would the sensation remain with me,
most especially after all the use I had had, and yet for the moment I felt replete. It came to me then that I
had heard no sound of departure from the chamber in which the prisoner had stood, nor had the
guardsman raised a hue and cry. The prisoner had made good his escape then, and would soon be
returned to those who were not enemy to him. The thought warmed me, and enabled me to rise to my

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feet and accept the thought of my soon-to-return need without tears.

The guardsman who had taken so great an amount of use from me failed even to look upon me as I slunk
past him, seeking the cross corridor which would take me to the guardsmen's barracks. In no more than
half a dozen steps I was again beset by need, one which would require a great deal of seeing to till
unconsciousness freed me from it. In the barracks I would be allowed to give the service my preparation
forced me to want desperately to give, and although the pain would also come to me there, I could not
refuse.

The third cross corridor led me to the main corridor, and from there I hurried toward the guardsmen's
barracks, the eyes of those whose posts I passed following me with amusement. They knew well enough
that I hurried to beg to serve those who were off duty, and perhaps were remembering the times I had
served them as well. The thought upset me as greatly as it ever did, and I hurried along with head down-
until the sounds of battle startled me out of miserable self-contemplation.

The change from normal peace and silence to raging battle occurred so quickly that I was not alone in
startled disbelief. Many of the guardsmen began shouting shocked demands, yet the fighting had burned
forward to include them before any might speak answers to their demands. I trembled against one wall
of the corridor, separated from the melee by the pillar I stood behind, shocked to see that the guardsmen
battled other guardsmen like themselves, only ones in the colors of the King. Blue and silver fought red
and gold, and although the shouting and clash of swords and screams of mortal fear were enough to
deafen and daze, it soon became clear that the silver and blue was prevailing.

Nearly all of those in red and gold were either down or 'attempting to flee when a strong contingent of
fresh red and gold guardsmen appeared, and these were led by the Duke himself. Their shouts of
defiance and challenge drew back many of their fellows who had thought to flee in despair, and again
the two forces came together in savage intent to wipe each other out. Through vision dampened by fear
and tears I saw the prisoner, silver accoutrements glowing brightly, sword rising and falling without
hesitation, forcing his way through the knots of battle toward the Duke. The leader of fifty appeared
before him, engaged him with a sneer, then quickly fell before his superior skill. All about them other
red and gold defenders were falling, unable to stand against the ravening silver and blue tide, and then
the prisoner stood before the Duke. Less than a dozen strokes were exchanged before the Duke was
disarmed, and then, with the prisoner's point at his enemy's throat, all those remaining of the red and
gold were made to throw down their arms in surrender. The Duke himself was forced to his knees by
those in blue and silver, and the prisoner looked down upon him with deep, cold anger.

"And so shall all traitors be dealt with," he said, with grim satisfaction. "I will know immediately the
place of my brother's confinement, and you have only to pray that he has not been harmed. You were a
fool to take him captive, for your machinations against our father the king were mere suspicion till then.
Had you not acted the fool, you would undoubtedly still be free to plot your plots of futility: Where is
he?"

"In my dungeons!" snarled the Duke, fury and fear doing battle in his weak-featured face. "Would that

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he were in the halls of hell, and you beside him!"

"You will soon have your own place there," said the prisoner in answer, and then he looked to one in
blue and silver who stood beside him. "Have the Duke lead you to the place where my brother is, and
give him that place once my brother is freed. His journey to my father's justice may then be arranged at
our leisure."

"At once, my Prince," acknowledged the one in blue and silver, and then the Duke was dragged erect
and forced up the corridor. His guardsmen were also forced in the same direction, and in a matter of
moments only those in blue and silver remained to inhabit the corridor. The prisoner cleaned and
resheathed his sword, ordered his guardsmen to posts along the corridor, then turned and came toward
me. I had not thought he had seen me where I hid behind the pillar, yet he had done just that thing.

"Pretty slave, you remain unharmed," he said, delight in his tone and eyes as he looked down at me. "I
give thanks that this is so, for I have not been able to free my thoughts of you. "

"And I give thanks that your freedom has been restored to you," I replied, trembling as I looked up into
the strong brown of his eyes. My body burned and screamed for easing, yet the guardsmen who would
have seen to me were no longer able to take the use of a slave, and there was in truth only one who I
then desired to serve.

"The need again burns within you," he said of a sudden, raising one palm to my breast. "Undoubtedly
due to the use you were given by the one who was to have guarded my avenue of escape. We will see to
you at once, and then we must speak of the thing foremost in my mind."

He took my arm and conducted me within one of the small, dimly lit easing rooms to be found behind
the line of pillars, those rooms that were often used by guardsmen and slaves before the former stood to
their posts. He put me gently to the furs before removing his sword and armor, and then he was upon
and within me, giving me the vigor I had so great a need of. He used me and used me, seeing to a great
need of his own, and when he finally withdrew I was once again sated and filled with deep happiness.

"And now we may talk," he said, lying beside me and ,looking down fondly at the foolish glow he must
surely have been able to see upon me. "I am free, my brother is free, and soon the Duke will be freed
from the burden of his life. For the aid you gave me, the laws of my father prescribe freedom for you as
well."

Freedom! The thought filled me with such unbelieving joy that tears swam in my eyes, and I took the
broad hand that touched my cheek and covered it with kisses.

"The thought of freedom pleases you," he said, and oddly enough a small portion of the warmth was
gone from his tone. "Should you ask for freedom you may have it, yet I would have you ask for another
thing."



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I looked again to his face in confusion so vast my head whirled, unable to understand what words he
spoke. Had he not said he would not allow me to leave his side? How might such a thing be if I were a
slave?

"You must know that I have recently been married," he said, sending the pain of a sword through my
heart. "The nuptials were arranged between my father and hers, a king who has no sons of his own. At
his death I will become king over his people, and my sons after me. His daughter the princess is
exceedingly fair, yet I have already used her enough to know that she cannot satisfy me. She has refused
to come to my bed more often than two or three times in each day, and calls my appetites unnatural. My
appetites, I know, are greater than those of other men, yet I see nothing unnatural in them, merely I find
difficulty in having them satisfied. You, pretty slave, are the first to satisfy those appetites with yourself
alone."

I attempted to speak then, to remind him that the root of my great need lay in the preparation I was put
through each morning, yet he halted my words with his palm to my mouth.

"Hush, child, I know what you would say," he scolded very gently, with just a hint of sternness. "You
believe I desire you for the slave needs put upon you, and this is not so. The very sight of you sends
flames all through me, so high that I have never known their like with any other woman. To see you is to
want you, and I see you even when others stand before me in your place."

His hand left my mouth to caress my hair, and the smile he gave me healed the wound in my heart.

"I find I cannot countenance the thought of losing you," he said, bringing his other hand to my hair as
well. "If you ask for freedom it will be given you, and yet you must know that I cannot keep a free
woman beside me. If you remain a slave, my slave, your place will be in my apartments in the palace I
share with my lady wife, and none will even consider commenting upon the matter. The preparation
given you each morning will be less harsh than that given you now, only enough to see that you are able
to serve me without difficulty, and freedom will be yours in all other things. You will need to serve only
myself-and perhaps a friend or two with whom I share all things-and my brothers, of course, when they
visit-and in such a way we may share our lives and the love we feel. I wish only to have you as my own,
yet the decision must come from you. I love you; will you pledge yourself as slave to me?"

I stared at him in speechlessness, achingly torn, horribly uncertain. His hands caressed my hair and face,
his lips touched me lightly and lovingly, and I was painfully indecisive. He felt the same love for me that
I felt for him; never had I expected to find such a man, and he would be my love and my life-if I were to
pledge myself slave to him. My desire for him was so great that I trembled between his hands, burning
from the already-returning needs of my body, the tears flowing from my eyes in a stream of pain. I had
to have him, I would die if I could not have him, and yet-

"I cannot," I whispered, the words torn from my flesh as though by the teeth of a predator. "My freedom
was taken-never would I have given it up of myself. I love you-yet freedom is as precious as life itself. I
would give my life for you-but to face forever as a slave-!"

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"As my slave, beloved," he murmured, lowering one hand to caress me where he had already proven
himself my master. "Freedom is such a foolish, little thing to stand between us, so pitifully useless a
thing to choose over our love. Already I feel as though I could taste you again, and the need rises within
you as well. Make the proper choice and we may love again, dearest slave child, tell me you will be
mine."

"No," I wept, closing my eyes against the command in his gaze, the demand in his fingers, the weakness
of my flesh. I wanted so much to make us one, and yet- "No," I sobbed, and the words grew louder and
louder. "No, no, no, no, no, no... !"

"No!" I screamed, fighting against the straps holding my wrists down, so sick to my stomach I thought I
would mess all over myself. "No, stop it, no!"

"Calm down, Jennifer, it's all over," a soothing voice came immediately from right next to my ear while
hands smoothed down my sweat-soaked hair. "Just take it easy."

"What's wrong with her?" a voice demanded, a voice that was close to outrage. "What the hell did you
two do to her?"

"We proved you can scratch her from the possible slave list," another voice said, a third voice. "No
matter how high her rating in sensuality is, there isn't anything about slavery that turns her on. If we
hadn't been stimulating her artificially all during the situational, she would have turned off and stayed
that way. Even the ultimate force play didn't budge her, and not many female types turn thumbs down on
that, I can tell you."

"What ultimate force play?" the second voice demanded again, but less belligerently. "What kind of a
situational did you put her in?"

"You heard me setting the stage for her," the other voice answered. "She found herself a slave in a
palace, a slave whose main function was to give use to the men of that palace. She had no hope for
freedom until she was given to a captive prince, who used her and talked to her, then decided he wanted
her permanently. She had already fallen in love with him, and when he had broken free and brought his
fighters back to take over the palace, he told her that he wanted her."

"Then why did she get so wild?" the other voice asked, sounding confused. "If she loved him, why
wasn't she jumping for joy?"

"Because he told her wanted her as a slave," the answer came. "He told her he loved her, that she was
entitled to be freed, but he wanted her to choose to be his slave. She was as much in love with him as it's
possible to be-but she still refused to be his slave."

"I see," the other voice said, sounding impressed. "You set her up to be crazy about him, and then he

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asks her to be his slave. If I'd had a chance to put money on it, I would have bet on her going along with
anything he asked."

"Most of them do," was the agreement. "The only usual exceptions are women who've had men lie to
them in the past, but she should be too young to have that in her background. As pretty as she is, though,
she must have had it handed to her a couple of times even before other girls knew what men were all
about. Give me a hand, will you? We've got to bring her all the way out of it."

"Sure," the other voice answered, and then there were tugs on the straps around my wrists. I didn't know
what was happening, but I did know I couldn't do as he'd asked. I wouldn't do as he'd asked, and I kept
shaking my head and saying so.

"Come on, Jennifer, and sit up now," another soothing voice said in my ear, the voice that had done the
explaining to the other voice. "It's all over and you're fine, but you have to sit up now and open your
eyes."

I let the hands help me into sitting, then opened my eyes to find a dimmer light all around. I blinked, still
shaking my head a little, and then I saw him. Brown-haired and brown-eyed, seriously concerned, he
stared at me the way he'd been doing earlier, and the trembling came back and brought tears to my eyes.

"No," I whispered, cringing back against the other arms supporting me, trying to escape his stare.
"Please, I can't, don't you understand that? I can't."

"Jennifer, what's the matter?" he asked, frowning as he stepped closer and put a hand out to me. "Why
are you crying?"

"Don't touch me!" I begged, shivering and edging back even farther. "You're just like all the rest, not
giving a damn about me, just what you can get out of me! Leave me alone, do you hear me, just leave
me alone!"

"What the hell is going on here?" a new voice demanded as he frowned more deeply and reached out
again to touch me. He and the others all turned fast to the new voice, and the man left the doorway to
move farther into the light. He was very big, black-haired and black-eyed, and so angry he looked just
about ready to strike out at everyone in reach.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the blond men demanded in turn, the one standing near a bank of
machinery. "Who told you you could come in here?"

"I'm Valdon Carter, and I don't need anyone to tell me anything," the big man came back, the words
coming out almost in a growl. "What are you doing to my niece?"

"We're appraising her," the same blond man said, a faint tremor now audible in his voice. "If you're her
uncle you're the one who asked for it, so what are you complaining about?"

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"I'm complaining about the fact that nobody mentioned she'd be terror-stricken," the big man said in the
same near-growl, sending his hard, black-eyed stare from one man to the next until he saw him. "And
what the hell is he doing here? Is he supposed to be a regular member of your appraisal team?"

"No, he's not a regular member of our team," the blond man holding me said when the other remained
silent. "But he is a high-ranking member of the middle-Management, and therefore is entitled to . . ."

"Nothing," the big man interrupted in a very flat voice, his eyes still on him. "I don't care how big a
wheel he is, when it comes to my niece he has no right to anything, and especially not to horning in
where he doesn't belong. Get a blanket. "

"But she's not all the way out of it yet," the man holding me protested. "You can't just . . . ."

"Get a blanket!" the big man interrupted again, his voice growing even colder. "She's my niece, and I
can `just' do anything I damned well please. Now, move!"

"Just calm down, Mr. Carter," he said in a smooth, persuasive voice as the blond man near the
machinery hesitated very briefly then bent to a nearby cabinet. "If you didn't know what appraisal
entailed, you shouldn't have asked to have your niece put through it. Any of our staff could have told
you what was involved, but you don't seem to have made the effort to find out. Now you're angry and
looking for someone to take it out on, but it seems to me...

"You seem to think I'm interested in your opinion, Mr. Rich," the big man cut in again, his tone
unchanged, his eyes even colder. "Unlike those you seem to be used to dealing with, I find nothing about
you of interest. From now on, stay away from my niece."

He took the blanket the blond man was holding out to him, opened it as he came toward me, then put it
around me. I was still trembling and crying and wasn't sure if I could trust him, but there had been a
shadow in the back of the room that wasn't there any longer, and I seemed to have some sort of memory
of the black-haired man from somewhere that was a good-feeling memory. When he wrapped me in the
blanket and lifted me off the table into his arms I put my own arms tight around his neck and my head to
his shoulder, and his hold on me tightened in a comforting way. Without another word he turned and
took me out of that place, and I felt so safe that before we had gone more than a dozen steps I was
already asleep.



CHAPTER 11

"Of all the stupid, bird-brained, mindless things to do, that has to be the prize-winner!" I snarled in the
trade language, glaring at my so-called partner. "How could you do it?"



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"It was easy," he answered mildly, popping another grape into his mouth, his feet comfortably propped
up on the table in front of his chair. "I didn't like that appraisal idea to begin with, and when time passed
and you didn't show up, I decided to do a little investigating. I'm still attuned to you, so finding where
they had you wasn't hard, and neither was getting you out. I thought you said there would be nothing to
it. What I walked in on didn't look like nothing. What did they do to you?"

His voice had grown harder by the time he got to his question and those dark black eyes were on me, no
longer mild. I knew most of the growl inside him wasn't for me, but it still made me uncomfortable.

"Never mind what they did," I came back, shifting around on the wide, beautiful bed I sat in. "Let's talk
about what you did. You blew your characterization, and there's no way to unblow it. How does it feel to
screw up the very first assignment you're given?"

"I didn't screw anything up," he answered with a headshake, the least bit annoyed. "I'm the only one who
has the right to mistreat my niece, and I let them know it. There was nothing more to it than that."

"Nothing more to it?" I almost screeched, seriously considering the idea of killing him. "You practically
offered Greg Rich his choice of weapons! Or if not with weapons, -- -barehanded with no holds barred!
That's your idea of nothing?"

"I don't like the man," he said with a grimace, taking his feet down so he could stand and come over to
sit next to me on the bed. "Why were you cowering away from him when I came in? What did he do to
you?"

"He didn't do anything," I answered with a grimace like the one he'd shown, deciding to get his morbid
curiosity satisfied. "I wasn't supposed to be able to remember anything that happened, but despite the
heavy jolt of trystisil, I still have it all. It didn't mean much until I came out of the fog completely a little
while ago, but I do remember it. My best guess is that Greg threw his weight around a little too hard
with one of those techs, the one standing near the master board, the one named Git. Gil got huffy, then
apparently decided to get even with Greg by making him the model for the main male role in the
situational they set me into. When I opened my eyes and saw Greg, ail I could understand was that he
was still after me to make the decision he wanted. I didn't know how long I could hold out against him if
he kept at me, so I was terrified."

I couldn't stop shuddering then, or raging in anger at how terribly that slave I'd been had been taken
advantage of. I could still feel the echoes of the love I'd felt for that prisoner, that slime who would ask a
woman in love with him to give up something more precious than life to accommodate his convenience.
I felt horribly betrayed, and knowing it hadn't been real did nothing to ease the feeling. And I also
remembered something else that doubled the shudder.

"What was he after you for?" Val asked, his hand on my shoulder very gentle despite the too-soft tone in
his voice. I looked up to see his eyes, and couldn't understand the expression in them.



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"We have something to think about more important than that," I told him. "Before Greg got there I had
another visitor, one who showed up right after the trystisil got its claws in me, someone who must have
been sent for. He was there right in front of me, Val, and I couldn't move."

"Not-" Val began, and then his hand was tightening on my shoulder. "What was he doing here'? And
what did he do to you?"

"He didn't have a chance to do much of anything," t answered, noticing that my own hands were not
quite as steady as I'd thought they were. "What he would have done is another story, but Greg barged in
and broke up the party. As for what he was doing here, that's obvious: your good buddy called him."

"But why?" Val demanded. "Why would he -call him? What kind of twisted game are they playing?"

"I wish I knew," I said with a sigh, stirring uncomfortably in the tightened grip on my shoulder, an
action which at least made him ease up a little. "Whatever it is, we'll have to keep going along with it
until I can face that garbage without any trystisil in me. Maybe we'll get lucky and find out he's still
here. "

"I'd be willing to bet against it," Val said with suddenly deeper vexation, his expression telling me he'd
had an unpleasant memory. "When I was on my way to that place to find you, some sort of flying
vehicle passed overhead, making everyone around me look up. One woman wondered aloud who the
VIP was; as far as she knew, flying vehicles aren't allowed in this area. The man with her said it didn't
much matter who it was; the thing was leaving, not coming in for a landing. If that wasn't our target, the
coincidence would be too much."

"And if flying vehicles aren't allowed, then we can't follow as fast as he can lead," I summed up, folding
my legs in front of me with a growl of frustration. "After being that close-! All we can do now is keep
going with your friend. I don't have to wonder if he got whatever approval he was looking for; if he's
still hanging around, it's only because another meeting's been scheduled."

"As long as I'm there next time," Val said, his eyes directly on me again. "And speaking of meetings,
you still haven't told me what Rich was after you for."

"Val, I told you it wasn't him," I said with as much exasperation as I felt, suddenly aware again of the
hand on my shoulder. "What's more to the point is that your denying it doesn't change the fact that you
did blow your role. You weren't supposed to care about me; barging in and dragging me out of there,
especially the way you did it, was completely out of character. If you care enough about someone to
challenge Sphere officials for them, you don't sell them to the highest bidder-which is what you're
supposedly up to with me, remember?"

"Well, I can always say I changed my mind." He shrugged. "Since I can see I'd better keep a closer eye
on you, I can claim I didn't realize what good stuff I had right in front of me until that Rich character
tried moving in on it. If I turn out to be lecherous instead of weak-willed, who'll know the difference?"

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"I'll know," I told him in sub-zero tones, reaching up to purposely and finally move his hand from my
shoulder. "Let's try saying instead that you didn't want your merchandise damaged before you could turn
it over, and you were afraid Greg Rich would swing a deal before you could. And I want this feud
between the two of you stopped right now."

"No problem in that. " He shrugged again, looking at me in that strange way a second time. "As long as
he stays away from you the way I told him to, there won't be any call for feuding. "

"Now, look, Val," I began, really getting hot. "You can't just . . ."

"But I can just," he interrupted, pointing a finger at me. "You seem to have forgotten that it's uncle Val,
and that what I say goes. From what I've seen of this place so far-not to mention the sort of visitors you
get-you'll have enough problems doing what you have to without getting any further involved with
someone like Rich. You'll stop encouraging him, and he'll stop coming around."

"Encouraging him?" I choked, absolutely furious. "What do you mean, encouraging him? And you can't
just brush him off and expect him to stay brushed off! He's a . . . "

"I don't care what he is," my sweet partner interrupted again, that "no" clear in his eyes. "You're all
finished playing around with him. It's almost time for us to be moving on, so you'd better get up and get
dressed."

"Now, you wait just a minute!" I growled, but I was already talking to his back. He had gotten up from
the bed and was heading toward the door outside, and then the door was closing behind him.

I sat for a minute just staring at that closed door in disbelief, then sank back down against the pillows. I
was more than willing to believe I was still dreaming, but things like that didn't happen in dreams, only
in nightmares. My brand new, totally inexperienced partner had not only just ignored a direct order from
the assignment leader, he had also turned around and issued an order of his own that he intended seeing
obeyed! It looked like being in a position to run things had gone to Val's head even above the point of
getting even; he was really beginning to believe he could tell me what to do! I had no intentions of
listening to him, of course, even if it were my choice about whether or not to see Greg again, but his
attitude was more than a pain. Sure as sin, there would be more trouble over it than he was anticipating.

The room I sat in was pretty, but my mind jumped back to Radman again, so I took Val's "suggestion"
and got up to get dressed. In the middle of all the melon ruffles and lace was my luggage, since that was
the room I'd been assigned to for the post-physical-exam period. Val had brought me there and put me
into the bed, and I'd slept until only a few minutes earlier, when my system had finally been able to
break loose from the trystisil. On top of the single, small trunk I'd brought from the Station lay a
squarish brown dress with fluffs and a full skirt, obviously another "suggestion" from my "uncle." He'd
been wearing white slacks and a lemon-yellow shirt, but he wanted me, completely covered and in a
dark, sweaty dress at that. I threw the thing onto the floor and opened the trunk, then pulled out a white

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shorts outfit I'd brought along, something of mine that any female of any age could wear, provided she
had the figure for it. Once I had the outfit on my figure and had added white deck shoes, I repacked the
brown monstrosity and reset the trunk lock before closing it up again. Giving Val access to my wardrobe
had been a mistake, but at least it was partly correctable.

Val was outside waiting for me, but not directly outside the door. The room I left was one of a string that
circled an umbrellaed lounge area, and Val was at a table with John Little, the two of them sipping
something tall and cool. When I walked up to their table and took the third chair, Val's eyes stayed on
me until I was seated.

"That isn't what I took out for you to wear," he commented after along minute, his tone unexpectedly
unargumentative. "Didn't you like my choice?"

"As a matter of fact, I didn't," I answered with restrained surprise, only glancing at the naked servant
who was putting a glass of tall and cool whatever in front of me. "It's much too hot here for a dress like
that."

"Too hot for a summer dress," Val answered with a small smile, glancing at Little as if he were sharing
an inside joke, and then he showed a faint grin. "Well, it so happens l prefer your choice, too. I like the
way you say, 'thank you for saving me.' "

"You expect me to thank you for pulling me out of some-thing you got me into in the first place?" I
asked with all the sarcasm I was capable of, just short of laughing in his face. "If you do, you're
dreaming. I didn't put this outfit on for you. "

" `Methinks the lady doth protest too much'," Little quoted as he sipped at his drink, the amusement still
in his eyes. "Appraisal bares one's true nature, Jenny, and I saw the way you were holding your uncle
around when he carried you away from it. Are you sure you aren't the least bit curious as to what it
would be like to go through the Sphere partnered with him? You've learned what other men are capable
of; are you sure you don't want to know what he can do? And are you completely sure you don't secretly
like what he's been doing to you?"

I stared at Little open-mouthed, finally understanding the line Val must have handed Radman's assistant.
My "uncle," after finally noticing the largesse under his nose for so long, had also discovered that his
little niece had a crush on him. She wasn't about to admit that crush, of course, but why shouldn't he use
their presence on Xanadu to take advantage of the situation? It had to be something like that for Little to
get such a kick out of it, but there was no reason for me to go along with it.

"You're both crazy for even suggesting something like that," I told them, getting stiffly to my feet. "If
you think I'm going to stay here and listen to any more of it, you're . . . "

"Jennifer," Val interrupted, his voice low but his tone somewhat-implacable. "Sit down and drink your
drink, and behave yourself. You're not going anywhere until departure time, and then you'll be going

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with us. If you try disobeying me; I'll punish you."

Those black eyes stared up at me, telling me I had no choice, telling me his threat wasn't simply window-
dressing. He'd told Little I secretly enjoyed being roughed up by him, and to prove the point he'd do
whatever he had to in the way of "punishing." Come hell or high water he'd go with his own decision,
and I didn't have to wonder what his "punishment" would consist of; he got his own back from females
in only one way, and there was nothing I could do to stop him or escape him. I was a minor, he was my
legal guardian, and I couldn't even simply pick up and walk away. I now had a reason for going along
with him, but once that assignment was over . . . I sat down again without a word, letting him see the
fury in my eyes, but all that did was make him and his friend chuckle again.

"Quite a decision, wasn't it, Jenny?" Little drawled, leaning back from the table to let me see more easily
the ridicule in his eyes. "But have no fear, my girl. I'm sure your uncle will find any number of
opportunities to punish you in the following days. You haven't really lost out on anything that would
give you pleasure."

I couldn't help giving him an infuriated glance, which amused him even more. Val was amused too, but
for entirely different reasons. I wasn't amused at all, but nobody gave a damn.

After a short wait we three and the other people around us were led to large, sybaritically furnished
barges, the sort with wide, soft cushions, striped awnings, and naked slaves with feather fans almost as
tall as they were. Drinks were again available, soft, cool, alcoholic, or any combination of the above,
along with snacks, cakes, ices, fruits, breads, you name it. Soft music came from four naked slave
musicians, and everyone seemed delighted with the arrangements-again with one exception. When I
picked a large, blue cushion to lie down on, I didn't get to do more than make myself comfortable under
the awning before I had company on the cushion. Val lay down behind me and put an arm around my
waist, and I wasn't permitted to either push the arm away or squirm loose from the spread-fingered hold.
I was laughingly ordered to lie still and enjoy the cool breeze playing around us, but what I really did
was make sure my eyes would be wide open for an opportunity to leave Val behind. He'd shown me the
benefits in working with a partner, all right, which underlined my wisdom in usually working alone.

The barges took us across the lake to the opposite side we'd started from, then went down-current a
considerable distance until they reached a long, festively decorated docking. The weather continued
beautiful and the crowd continued happy, but everyone was more than simply happy. The drinks had
been subtly added to again, and no one was finding fault or feeling bored with anything, especially with
the extra slaves sent out to meet us. Laughing, naked females surrounded the men and their grinning
male equivalents appeared around the women, and that way we were separated and led to individual
pavilions.

At first Val had been reluctant to be separated from me, but whatever had been in our drinks convinced
him quickly enough that the female slaves were worth his attention for a while. Little had been led away
by a couple of pretty boys, and an interesting all-male specimen had attached himself to me, taking my
hand to direct me while his eyes moved over every inch of me. I discovered I didn't mind his attaching

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himself to me in the least, and by that understood the drug had a tenuous hold on me as well. As long as
I was aware of it and therefore had the option of going along with it or not, there was nothing to get
excited about, but I couldn't help wondering what the drug was and what purpose it had. If it was
reaching me it had to be powerful, and I didn't think the Management would use something that
powerful just to turn their clients happy.

The pavilion I was led to was powder blue and white, large and square and deliciously secret-looking, as
though all sorts of forbidden pleasures might be found in it. I knew that strange an idea had to be caused
by the drug working on me, and the first words spoken to me by the slave holding my hand confirmed
the guess and added to it.

"Inside these cloth walls I'm yours completely, mistress," he murmured, his light eyes looking down at
me as he held aside the cloth draping the entrance. "I'll do whatever you order me to do, give you
pleasure or take it from you, anything you like. All you have to do is command me."

I walked past him into the pavilion without answering, in the process pulling my hand loose from his,
most of my attention on the room I entered. Blue and white silks hung on the walls, white furs lay
scattered on the floor with blue cushions, and the other rooms of the pavilion were closed off from that
one by more drapes. Pleasantly low lighting came from some invisible source, the air was cool and
comfortable as though conditioned, and small tables of dark wood held wine flasks and glasses and
small assortments of food to be nibbled on. I heard the naked male slave enter the pavilion behind me
and resettle the drape over the entrance, making the room complete in its attractiveness, but I was
beginning to feel an impatience that the drug couldn't overcome. Fun is fun, but all that messing around
wasn't doing a damned thing to bring me closer to Radman.

"How long do we stay in this place?" I asked the slave without turning to face him, wondering if I could
justify taking the chance of grabbing Little and drugging him. He had to know where Radman was, and
if I could get the location out of him I could see about moving on ahead of this, group inching its way
into the Sphere. The sooner that assignment was over the sooner I could get back to a normal life-and
away from slaves anxious to please.

"If you're really as bored as you sound, I must be losing my appeal," another voice answered for the
slave, an amused voice I recognized. "Don't tell me you're going into tri-v withdrawal?"

The voice was Greg Rich's, and I turned slowly to see the Management rep standing just beyond a
draping to the right. He had to have been waiting in another room of the pavilion, and had shown
himself only after I had entered. The male slave who had led me there was on his knees with head
bowed, a definite nervousness and purposefully obvious subservience in his manner due to the presence
of one of his true masters. The sight of his slavish posture sickened me, but I didn't realize how much of
my opinion was visible until the amusement left Greg's face.

"You really don't like slaves, do you?" he asked, true puzzlement in the question. "Most people jump at
the chance to lord it over them, taking to slave-enjoyment the way they take to breathing pure, sweet air.

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What makes you dislike it so?"

"I suppose I have a better imagination than other people," I answered with only a brief hesitation. "I'd
hate being a slave, so I don't like seeing people who are slaves. What are you doing here?"

"You mean, after I was ordered to stay away from you?" he asked, again amused. "It so happens I
wouldn't make much of a slave either, especially when it comes to taking orders. And I wanted to find
out if you were all right."

"Why shouldn't I be all right?" I asked, suddenly finding the pavilion too airless and enclosed. "Uncle
Val yelled at me about not seeing you again, but he didn't do anything beyond yelling. Why should
anything be wrong?"

"Jennifer, I can't tell you what happened, but take my word that something is wrong," he answered
soberly, beginning to move slowly toward me. "A louse named Gil tried to ruin things between us, and
don't think I haven't reported him for it, but-that doesn't change what he did. Even if you don't remember
what happened, I'd like a chance to make it up to you. Will you give me that chance?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I answered, finding that I had to turn away from his brown-
eyed stare. I wasn't supposed to remember anything that had happened while I had been under the
influence of the trystisil, but feeling uneasy in his presence without knowing why was only to be
expected. The fact that I did remember, all of it, was giving me something of a hard time, and I had to
see if I could get rid of him.

"I'm talking about the fact that part of you believes I want you as a slave," he said from right behind me,
and his voice had softened. "You don't need to know why you believe that, but I give you my word it
isn't so. I don't want you as a slave, Jennifer-but I do want you."

"Greg, please give me a little time alone to think about this," I began, the palms of my hands moist, my
eyes locked to the blue, and white silks on the pavilion wall in front of me, my fingers uselessly pulling
at one another. Having him around was dangerous in more ways than one, and if I could get him to walk
away, even temporarily . . .

"Time spent alone won't do it, Jennifer," he denied immediately, and then his palms were stroking my
bare arms. "If I don't show you how wrong you are right now, there will never be a later. Don't you want
there to be a later-as well as a right now?"

I discovered that my eyes had closed at the first touch of his hands, and my heart was pounding so hard
the slave must have heard it on the other side of the pavilion. I did remember the appraisal, all of it,
including how much in love I had been with Greg in the situational. Telling myself"the love wasn't real
didn't help; no love was real or lasted very long, but that didn't stop it from tearing you up inside for as
long as it held on. I didn't want to go through that again, I didn't, but he had said he didn't want me as a
slave, and then his hands were turning me around so that his arms could hold me, and it felt so good I

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nearly moaned with the pain. I might have been able to control myself if not for the latest drug I'd been
fed, but with that pulling at my strings of judgment, all I could do was let my own arms steal around him.

"That's much better," he said with a chuckle, letting his hands move all over the back of me. "I was
regretting the time together we were done out of earlier, but I think it may well prove for the best after
all. I think you're more ready for me now than you were then."

Ready was too pale a word for what I was feeling, and even though I struggled against it, I couldn't
make it stop-He removed my arms from around his waist and picked me up, chuckling again when I
transferred my hold to around his neck, then carried me back toward the room he'd come out of,

"Bring two glasses of wine," he told the slave as we passed him, and then we were behind the draping
and into the other room. Done all in silver and gray, it was the most sensually obvious bedroom I'd ever
seen. The bed was a low, wide square right in the center of the room, the light was flickering candlelight,
and the mirrors threw back numberless images at us amidst the fur and silk decorations. Greg wasn't
carrying me quite as easily as Val did, but he still managed to get us to the barely raised platform that
was the bed and put us both down on it.

It was no more than a minute's work getting me out of my shorts outfit and deck shoes, so I was as
naked as the slave when he brought the wine Greg had asked for. Greg was just stripping down to his
shorts when the slave appeared next to the bed, but all he did was throw him a glance while he stripped
the rest of the way. I lay flat on my back in the middle of the silver fur that was the bed's cover, so badly
in need I couldn't keep from moving around, but some small part of me still remembered the role I was
supposed to be playing.

"Greg, send him away," I asked, looking up at the light eyes staring down at me. "You know I don't like
to be watched like that."

"Jennifer, you've got to get over those provincial attitudes," I was informed with a grin that brought a
faint smile to the slave as well, and then Greg was lying beside me, to my left, no longer hampered by
clothing. "What harm does being watched do you?"

"I just don't like it," I answered lamely, glancing again at the smiling slave before turning on my side to
Greg. "I thought you were anxious to make love to me."

"I am," he answered with a wider grin, then slid a hand between my thighs so fast that I gasped and tried
to push it away. "And you, it seems, are anxious to have me make love to you. Does it bother you so
much to be watched that you'd refuse to let me touch you if the slave stayed?"

"Greg, please!" I whispered, growing even more frantic as the flames began roaring high and consuming
me. "Please send him away!"

"But, Jennifer, what will we do without wine?" he murmured, lowering his head to my breast. I was

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already so far gone that that nearly finished me, and with a sob I threw my arms around him, begging for
what I needed so desperately, not giving a damn if the entire planet was watching. Greg laughed and
took me in his arms, and the flames rose up to claim us both. It was somehow not quite long enough
before it was over, but by then the slave was gone. Greg lay beside me sipping from the glass he'd been
given while I tried to push aside wide, unformed thoughts of vague dissatisfaction, and he smiled when
my eyes finally came to his face.

"You were better than ever, sweetheart," he assured me, reaching above my head to retrieve the other
glass of wine from where it stood on the floor. "Being watched wasn't quite as terrible as you thought it
would be, was it?"

"No," I conceded in a small voice, making sure I blushed a little and looked briefly away from him. The
slave had stayed through the entire performance, getting a lot of fun out of watching what Greg had done
to me. I was really raw over being put on display like that, but I found myself wanting to blame the slave
instead of Greg. Love, even artificial love, tends to turn people stupid, but I wasn't so stupid that I didn't
refuse the wine with a shake of my head. If I gave the drug a chance to flush out of my system, I might
be able to do something about the rest of it.

"Now that you know there's nothing wrong with watching, maybe you'd like to do a little of it," he said,
returning the glass I'd refused before sipping at his own. "I owe your uncle a little something, and
tonight would be the perfect time to pay up on it. If you like, you can join me."

"What do you intend doing to him?" I asked, suddenly more alert than I had been. I attended only to
Greg, but I couldn't let him hurt Val.

"I intend doctoring the placement testing he'll be going through tonight," Greg answered, his chuckle
somewhat on the rough side. "Everyone coming into the Sphere gets filtered through this placement
camp, the night's stopover being used to find out what they really want. They're drugged and then put
through a series of experiences, and the drug makes them react honestly. Some women talk endlessly
about equality and superiority, demanding their rights to do as they please, but what they really want is
to be captured and enslaved and raped without mercy. Some men shout about how strong men have to
be, how they can never let women get the upper hand, but they'd love to be shouted down, whipped hard
and long, and then be made to kiss a woman's feet. After the testing we know what direction to send
them in, and that way they get the most out of their visit and usually decide to come back again.
Somehow, I doubt your uncle will want to come back again."

"But what are you going to do to him?" I insisted, getting up on one elbow to look at him more directly.

"I told you, I'm going to change his testing experiences," Greg said with more of a grin, reaching over to
touch a finger to the tip of my breast. "In the routine sequence he would start out being captured and
enslaved by a female, would be given the chance to escape and take the female captive in turn, and then,
if the second part of the sequence was completed, be given the chance to free the female and share
pleasure with her without forcing it on her or having it forced on him. Some people get the most

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pleasure out of sharing instead of taking or being forced to give, and we take that into account, but there
are other things to be taken into account as well. Different people have different tastes, and we have
sequences to cover it all, but those sequences can be modified. What do you think would happen if your
uncle was accidently put through the forced slave sequence alone, for example?"

"He'd really flip out," I answered slowly, finding something ugly in his grin of delight. "But what will
happen if he complains? If he gets put through something like that he'll know it was you, and he might
complain."

"I've already thought of that," he said with even more of a grin. "If his complaint was passed on I'd really
be in it, but I've already seen to it that it won't be passed on. And tomorrow, once he comes out of it, I'll
let him know that there have been occasions when guests have had terrible accidents or have
disappeared entirely. It usually turned out that rogue slaves were responsible for those awful happenings
and the slaves were tracked down and then harshly punished, but the punishment came too late to be of
any help to the unfortunate victims. I think he'll be smart enough to take the hint p and let it lie after that,
not to mention keeping his hands off `' what other people have expressed an interest in. But enough
about him; let's talk about the zone I'm going to be taking you through."

He began describing something called the orange zone then, a place that appeared to be one non-stop
party, but I was listening with only partial attention. I didn't like the sound of what he intended doing to
Val, but I couldn't very well say so, and as long as his plans didn't include anything really harmful I'd
have to go along with them. I didn't want to believe Greg would hurt Val, and after a couple of minutes
I'd convinced myself he was only looking to even the score a little. That made me feel considerably
better, so much better that I could listen to his descriptions of what we'd be doing together with as much
anticipatory eagerness as he was showing. After that he put his glass aside and took me in his arms
again, and the way I felt almost made his lovemaking something I'd been looking for all my life-if it had
been more satisfying. For some reason the inner me was expecting more from him, and when it didn't
come it was more than disappointing.

We stopped for a quick snack before getting dressed, then left the pavilion in the slave's keeping and
went outside. It wasn't long past sundown but the camp was oddly quiet, as though everyone had turned
in early to get a good night's sleep. Greg put his arm around me against the cool of the night, and led the
way through and around the silent pavilions to a pavilion that was four times the size of the others, was
colored in what the lights around it showed to be lilac and black, and which had two men in Sphere
uniform standing in front of ii. The two men nodded to Greg as they stepped aside, and we went on in
through the hanging drape.

Inside was brisk efficiency, with the entire interior partitioned off into small cubicles which held very
sophisticated equipment, people either sitting in front of that equipment or hurrying from place to place.
Our destination lay at the back of the pavilion, which we reached by moving along the aisle stretching
between the cubicles, no one paying any particular attention to us until we got to where we were going.
Inside that cubicle the man at the equipment looked up, then flashed Greg a quick grin.



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"You're in time to watch the last of his fun," the man said, gesturing toward the screen in front of him.
"He's as high as a kite, and has been going through those slaves. like a bull through a herd of cows. It's
too bad you missed the rest of his performance. I've picked up more pointers than I knew there were. "

"Never mind how good you think he is," Greg said with a snort of dismissal, not even glancing at the
screen. "I've got something to change in this program, and I want you to set it up now. When the
projectors go on, I want it all ready."

The man at the screen raised his eyebrows, but still got up and went to a different piece of equipment
with Greg, and began listening to Greg's low-voiced explanation. Since I knew what he was talking
about I could afford to let my attention wander, and where it wandered was to the screen. The picture
was somewhat small but extremely sharp, and what it showed was something I'd never seen
unemotionally before: my partner using his talents on a woman. Right then the woman under him was
crying out hysterically, but with pleasure rather than fear or pain. He rode her like a master equestrian,
his grip gentle but unbreakable, his assurance complete, his ability at pace-changing demonstrated
without effort. The woman screamed and then wept, helpless to do anything but give him. his due,
helpless to do anything but continue on at his command. She looked as played out as the two others who
lay limp in pick-up range, but the man who had made them that way wasn't yet through taking his
pleasure.

I stood and watched Val until he finally let it end, impressed in spite of myself and more than a little
curious. The three slaves he'd chosen were all brown-haired, and I didn't understand why they all looked
so exhausted. He hadn't used the third nearly as long as he usually used me, and I had never ended up
that exhausted. Overwhelmed and very impressed, sure, but not exhausted. I didn't know what was
wrong with the girl, but the question left my mind as soon as Val lay down on the bed next to her. His
eyes closed and he seemed to fall immediately asleep, and the two other slaves stirred where they lay on
the floor and began to get to their feet.

"Why the hell are they taking their time?" Greg demanded, showing he was looking over my shoulder at
the screen. "They're supposed to get the contacts on him as soon as he conks out."

"You can't blame them if he was too much for them," the tech said with a chuckle, coming back to
reclaim his seat. "They don't often find themselves serving a stallion like that, and they aren't used to it. I
don't think it's hard figuring out what he really likes; if he was putting on an act, he wouldn't have used
all three of them."

"But we're not here to guess, are we?" Greg said with grim satisfaction, watching the two slaves on the
screen pull out a bunch of contacts from under the bed and begin to attach them to their victim. "We
need to see with our own eyes how he reacts to a given set of circumstances-like the standard sequences
we just set up. How long until the projectors go on?"

"Loads of time," the tech answered in distraction, playing his board like the delicate instrument it was.
"Minute and a half at least. And the last contact is just-about-set. Nothing to do now but wait."

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The tech sounded very satisfied at that, but it was obviously meant to apply only to Greg and me. He
himself continued to touch his board in a definite rhythm, and the two slaves on the screen had left Val
and were pulling and tugging the third slave off the bed she'd been lying on. It seemed to be important to
them to get her off the bed, and just as they managed to tumble her to the floor, the screen began to
flicker.

"They're lucky their timing's so good," the tech commented with a chuckle, nodding toward the fading
image of the three slaves. "Another five seconds and she would have been in toe sequence with him."

"Which she would have really regretted once this was all over," Greg said with a hard edge to his voice.
"I don't want him having a single out not provided by us."

"What's happening?" I asked, feeling a chill move over me at Greg's tone. His worldly, easy-going
attitude was just about all gone, and I didn't like what was left behind.

"The projectors are reaching through the contacts to him," Greg answered, absently putting an arm
around me. "He'll be drawn into the sequence that way, and he'll also color the sequence with his
reactions. We'll be seeing the composite on the screen, just as though we were there in the sequence and
watching it. Of course, if he wasn't hooked up, there'd be no sequence to see; it can't be run without a
central subject."

I nodded briefly in understanding, and I did understand. We would see how Val really felt about what
was being done to him, and everything that happened would be based can that. He would not be able to
control what was being done, but his reactions to it would be strictly his.

The image on the screen continued to flicker for a few seconds, and then it settled down to show a
bedroom, but a terribly frilly, feminine bedroom. Lace and ruffles hung all around in a dozen shades of
yellow, on the windows, on the walls, on the wide bed, on the delicate dressing table. Gold cushions
were thrown around on the ruffles and lace, cuddly dolls sat neatly arranged on some of the cushions,
and looking at the scene gave the viewer the impression that the air was filled with flower perfume.
Everything was neat and pretty and just where it belonged, and then a door opened to admit two figures.
One was black-haired and black-eyed and really large, and the other was red-haired and even larger.
Both figures were male and the black-haired one was impressive, but the redhead was absolutely awe-
inspiring: he was as much bigger than the black-haired one as Val was bigger than me. The redheaded
mountain had a giant hand around Val's arm, and didn't turn him loose until they both stood in the
middle of the room.

"From now on, this boudoir is yours," the redhead said with a gesture at the room, watching as Val
rubbed his arm where it had been held. "Be sure to keep it perfectly in order, or you'll find yourself well
punished. Now give me those rags."

"Rags?" Val echoed, looking down at the white shirt and slacks he wore. "These aren't rags, they're

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perfectly good clothes. "

"You weren't asked for your opinion, boy," the redhead answered with impatience, snapping his fingers.
"Give them here and be quick about it."

"If you can wear them, so can I," Val answered, glancing at the same whites on the redhead before
turning away to look around the room. "And I don't like this-`boudoir.' Why can't I have a normal room?"

"You young ones are so much alike you make me tired," the giant grumbled, completely put out. "You
know nothing, not even how to behave properly, but you think you know it all. Well, before I'm through
with you you will know it all, and it's time for your first lesson."

Val turned back to him fast at that, the look on his face showing he intended defending himself against
whatever came, but there's a saying about the best laid plans. The giant came up to him, took him by the
arms and lifted him off the floor, then put him down on his back on the pretty yellow carpeting. Val
fought and struggled to get loose, but the giant knelt across him and began undressing him, ignoring his
struggles the way he usually ignored mine.

When the giant had Val stripped he took the whites and got to his feet, then grinned down at his furious
victim.

"If you learn to behave yourself you'll be given something else to wear, boy, but you'll have to earn that
something else," he said. "In the meantime we'll just enjoy the sight of that pretty body of yours, and
hope you don't learn to be too good too fast."

Val's fury increased as he climbed to his feet, but all the giant did was chuckle at the sight. He'd already
proven Val couldn't hurt him, and didn't mind throwing the fact in Val's face. He stared at Val for
another few seconds, just about daring him to try something else, then turned away to walk to another
door and open it.

"The boy is here and ready for you, Highness," he said to someone out of sight. "Do you wish to see
him?"

"Oh, indeed I do," came the laughing answer, clearly a female voice. "I've been waiting for him to be
brought."

The giant stepped back from the doorway and opened the door wider, and Val's jaw dropped at sight of
the woman who strode through. She was nearly as tall as the giant, which meant she towered over Val,
but she was very, very thin. She had no hips to speak of and her breasts were little more than bumps, and
her see-through gown hung on her like flesh on a long-dead corpse. She had very long blond hair and a
very long, thin face with no make-up on it at all, not that makeup would have helped. The most it could
have done was cover up what was there. She stopped in front of Val and looked him over with a crooked-
toothed grin, then turned her head to the giant.

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"He's as pretty as you promised he would be, but I thought you said he was ready." She giggled, putting
one hand on a nonexistent hip. "If that's as ready as he can get, I think he's still too young."

"He's a boy and therefore shy, Highness," the giant said with a glance toward two carbon copies of
himself who had come into the room behind the woman. "A boy's shyness must be overcome with
coaxing. May we prepare him for you?"

"Oh, yes, please do." The woman giggled, looking down at Val again, but he was no longer looking up
at her. All his attention was on the three monsters who were walking toward him, and if he didn't pale,
he came pretty damned close. He began backing away from their advance, the look on his face
determined, but I could have told him how much determination means in the face of greater strength and/
or numbers. They caught him before he could launch himself through the glass of the double window, let
him waste most of his strength fighting uselessly against their strength, and then they got down to cases.
They all laughed and chatted among themselves as they "prepared" him, and from their comments it
suddenly came to me that the woman wasn't the only one who would be using him. That didn't sound
like any standard capture sequence to me, and I had to find out what was going on. I turned my head to
Greg, and put a hand on his chest.

"Greg, something's gone wrong," I said, trying not to sound worried. "Shouldn't that sequence . . . ."

"Nothing's gone wrong," he interrupted me with warm assurance, squeezing me gently with the arm
around me. "You're too softhearted is all, but I took care of it. This will be a sequence he'll never forget."

The took on his face was downright feral, and I didn't have to wonder if he'd relent and change his mind;
if he did, it would only be to make things worse. It looked like he wanted to hurt Val in a way that was
worse than physical, and all because Val had tried to keep him away from me. It didn't seem to matter to
Greg that I was ignoring Val and seeing him anyway; he wasn't about to forgive the fact that Val had
dared to tell him what to do. When Greg was the good guy trying to protect the poor little girl from her
mean old uncle everything had been fine and acceptable, even being put down by Val.. As soon as Val
changed to the one doing the protecting, though, Greg had slid into what seemed to be an old groove, a
getting-even-at-any-price groove. I'd been right when I'd told Val not to mess with Greg, but Val hadn't
listened any more than he ever did. It would serve him right if I left him to take his medicine, but as far
as I was concerned, the punishment was too extreme for the crime.

Greg and the tech were completely intent on the screen, where the four giants were playing with their
new toy, just about licking their lips. I could see I didn't have much time, but I wasn't completely sure I
could stop the fun and games. If the equipment behind us was what I thought it was we were home free,
but if it wasn't . . .

Borrowing trouble never pays, so I pushed my doubts aside and concentrated on slipping away from the
arm around me. Earlier Greg had tightened his hold in order to reassure me, but the doings on the screen
were holding him so attentively that his grip had loosened, giving me the chance to turn out of the circle

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of his arm. Rather than noticing I was gone he reclaimed his arm and stepped closer to the screen, and
one glance showed me why he was so rapt. The giants were getting ready to give Val a chance to work
off the problem they'd given him; they were going to make a Val sandwich, one that set them all
drooling, and the look in my partner's eyes was so close to madness that I couldn't stand it. I turned away
from the screen fast, ran silently to the machinery against the pavilion wall, then started looking for what
had to be there.

I don't know whether the Lord of Luck was in my corner or Val's, but there was no doubt he was there
somewhere. The equipment used by the Sphere was adapted but standard, the sort that was built to be
handled by the numbers. I was no expert but I did know how to turn it on and off, processes made
purposefully simple by the manufacturers of the equipment. Number-one switch disconnected all outside
contacts, number-two switch stopped the program, and number-three switch purged the program
entirely, and that's the way the switches were meant to be closed, one, two and then three. As I hit the
first switch I wondered how many people knew what I did, but it wasn't something to wonder about
long; as I hit the second and third switches simultaneously, I knew there would soon be lots of people
sharing the secret.

The first switch immediately cut the contact with Val, but the exclamations of protest from Greg and the
tech were hardly out of their mouths before the fireworks started. The machinery was doing some
protesting of its own over the simultaneous closing of the second and third switches by beginning to
short out in pretty blue crackles and static, a thing the manufacturers warned would happen if those
switches weren't closed one at a time. The shorts grew more violent as they spread through the
machinery, smoke began rising in dark, angry wisps, and backing away from it all brought me smack
into Greg.

"You stupid little fool, what have you done?" he demanded in a shout, pulling me around by one arm to
face him. "Don't you know you've ruined everything?"

His handsome face was twisted with fury and livid with rage, and somehow I didn't think he was talking
about the machinery I'd trashed. It hurt to see him so angry with me, hurt more than I'd expected it to,
but I'd already noticed that love turns people stupid.

"Greg, let me make it up to you." I tried with some difficulty, really wanting him to know I was sincere.
"Let's forget about this and go back to my pavilion, and then we can..."

The slap cut my words off the direct way, sending me staggering to my right, and then he had me by the
arms again, and was pulling me back to face him.

"I almost had, him and you want me to forget about it?" he growled, digging his fingers into my arms as
he shook me like a rag doll. "You don't have to worry about making it up to me, Jennifer. I'll take care of
making it up to myself, you wait and see if I don't."

He pushed me hard as he let me go, sending me down to the floor of the pavilion, and by the time I was

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able to sit up and turn back, he was gone from sight. The tech was busy with a smother extinguisher,
putting out the handful of small fires that had started, and the people who had come crowding into the
small room didn't pay the least attention to me as I got to my feet and made my way out of the place. I
looked around to see if I could spot some sign of Greg in the darkness but he had disappeared
completely, and the cool wind of the night had stiffened considerably. I shivered in the thin, foolish little
shorts outfit I was wearing, then began looking around for Val's pavilion.

With the help of a guest list and directions from one of the Sphere people patrolling the camp. I
eventually found Val's pavilion. The three slaves were gone, their job over and done with, and Val lay
on the low, square bed, tossing in semiconsciousness and struggling to come out of it. I removed the
contacts from him, lessening his struggles considerably, and then decided against bringing him awake
the way I'd originally intended doing. Whatever sleep he'd be able to get would not be wasted, and I
could bring him up to date in the morning as easily as right then. I straightened to standing, looked
around at the silver and gray bedroom with appended mirrors, then went back out to the front room of
the pavilion.

My body ached a little when I lowered it to the carpeting, but it wasn't anything worth paying attention
to. What took more of my attention was the memory of how angry Greg had been, and how well that
anger fit in with the same sort of anger I'd had to face in the past. They all started out attracted and
pleased, but then came the time I did something that had to be done and all the attraction and pleasure
disappeared. They never wanted to understand, never could understand, and just because what I felt for
Greg wasn't real didn't mean it hurt any less. I'd given up getting involved in that sort of thing a long
time ago, and it didn't help that this time I'd been forced into it without wanting any part of it. Curling up
on carpeting is never better than curling up in the arms of a man you feel something deep for. It's only
safer.

"D-Jennifer, what happened?" a blurry voice demanded from behind me, and then I heard the sound of a
body sitting down. "What are you doing here?"

"Just making sure there was no burnout on this end," I told him in the trade language without turning.
"Did that sequence -get -ended before things went too far?"

"Damn-I remember now," he said the same way, and a faint sound came as though he were running a
hand through his hair. "That woman and those monsters- They were just about to- How the hell did you
know about it?"

"You may not have noticed, but I have a knack for being in the right place at the right time," I answered,
moving my head around on my arm. "In case you're interested, this isn't over yet. Greg was faintly
annoyed that his present to you wasn't delivered in its entirety, and has promised to make another stab at
it in the near future. Whatever that turns out- to be, though, you can bet he won't make the mistake of
telling me about it beforehand again."

"So you were the one who stopped it," he said, his voice both stronger and softer as his hand came

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gently to my arm. "And I can see how faint his annoyance was by these marks on you. How badly did he
hurt you?"

"Don't be silly," I said with an odd smile only I knew about. "Haven't you learned yet that nothing can
hurt me? Too uncaring and too unfeeling-remember?"

"Too thickheaded is more like it," he growled, suddenly less pleased than he had been. "If you'd listened
to me and stayed away from him, you wouldn't be sporting that set of bruises now. If I ever catch you
near him again, I'll put you on a leash."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I asked, turning to my back to frown at him where he sat, almost on
top of me. "If I hadn't been there you'd be sandwich ,meat now, complete with mustard and relish. I don't
know how partnerships work where you come from, but around here we usually try to keep things like
that from happening to our partners. You would have preferred if I'd simply stood to one side and just
watched?"

"If it meant keeping yourself from getting hurt, yes," he answered, the faint flush on his skin doing
nothing to detract from the steel-like insistence in his black eyes. "I'm supposed to be here to keep things
like that from happening to you, not to be the cause of their happening. And he hit you too, didn't he?"

"Yes, he hit me," I answered, ignoring the very gentle fingers that carefully touched my cheek.
"Absolutely the first to ever lay a glove on me. Most of the men I meet on assignments bow and kiss my
hand. Don't you think you're being ridiculous?"

"No, I don't," he answered in a very flat way, then climbed slowly to his feet. "What I am being, though,
is exhausted. Let's get to bed and catch what sleep we can."

"We prefer sleeping right here," I told the hand outstretched to me, more than disgusted with his
nonsense. "Sleep is something I need too, and I'll do a better job of it if I work at it alone. Besides, don't
you think you've had enough females in that bed for one night?"

His skin went flushed again, darker than before, and unbelievably those eyes avoided mine. I'd just been
trying to be my usual sarcastic self, but Val was embarrassed! It had clearly only just come to him that
everything he'd done in that pavilion had been watched, and for some reason, the idea upset him.

"That wasn't what I meant, but you might be right at that," he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand
as he continued to look away from me. "I'll get you a pillow and a cover. "

He took himself out of the room, was back in a minute with the pillow and a fur cover, then disappeared
again and stayed disappeared. I got myself comfortable and settled down to sleep, but a last, strange
thought came to me before I drifted off. I didn't know how I knew it, but I would have sworn that Val's
embarrassment stemmed not from his actual doing, but from the fact that I knew about it. Why it should
bother him to have me know about something like that was beyond me, but there was no doubt that it did

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bother him. Val was strange all right, in some ways stranger even than the members of the non-
humanoid races I knew, but there was nothing I could do right then to change him. Once the assignment
was over, though . . .



CHAPTER 12

"Now, people, we're ready to go," the amiable young man announced to the lessened crowd around him,
his handsome face smiling attractively at everyone. "The ladies will leave first, and in a short while the
men will follow. You may go anywhere you please in the white zone, but remember to stay in the white
zone only. If you wander into another color zone, you'll find yourself in a different proposition, one you
probably won't care for. You men should be especially careful of that."

The men looked at each other with grins and chuckling, understanding the point without needing
explanations. Everyone there knew what was happening, and the best thing I could come up with about
the situation was that we were finally beginning to move on deeper into the Sphere.

Slaves had come to wake us that morning, and the fact that one male slave accompanied the three
females said that my location wasn't a surprise to whoever was in charge. I wasn't in the mood for what
he was offering and said so, but wasn't given the option of refusal in the matter of bathing and dressing.
We were up to the costumed part of the tour, and it was taken for granted that not many people would
know everything there was to know about the clothing brought by the slaves. I gave in without more
than a token protest and let myself be dressed, then went to have breakfast with Val.

The costume brought to me was more than modest, a long-skirted light pink dress with very wide skirt,
high neck and long sleeves, delicate lace clustered around throat, hem and wrists. Val appeared in red
leggings, black boots, dark brown tunic-vest, and light pink shirt, complete with swordbelt and sword
and sheathed dagger; we spent a minute looking each other over before sitting down to the meal the
slaves had brought. I'd been told I didn't have to worry much about the dress, but should avoid moving
too abruptly or putting undue pressure on seams. The dress was designed to rip when attacked in the
proper way, and underwear was, needless to say, not included in the outfit. Being given that particular
information wasn't terribly surprising, but I couldn't help wondering if Val's stuff was set to do the same
thing.

"You're looking well rested this morning, Jennifer," Val said smoothly and in character as he seated me
at the table that had been set up in his front room. "Our schedule has beers arranged for us, and we
should both enjoy it."

"What are we scheduled for, uncle Vat?" I asked, and the wariness I showed wasn't acting. Val had a
definite twinkle of amusement in his eye, and I'd learned to be wary at the very least when it came to
things he considered funny.



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"We're scheduled for a ride through the countryside before lunch," he told me, sitting down at the table
and starting to uncover dishes. "It seems the Management has decided that I would be happiest if I were
allowed to pursue the gentler sex and bend them to my will, so that's what I'll be doing. You, of course,
will be the member of the gentler sex that I pursue and bend."

"I don't understand," I protested, trying to sound young and confused instead of old enough and cynical
enough to tell him what to do with his pursuit and bending. "What has a ride through the countryside got
to do with . . ."

"The ride won't simply be a ride," he interrupted as though not at all interested in what I had to say.
"You, as the pursued, will be a young woman who is willfully running away from the protection of her
family to avoid the need to obey them. I, as the pursuer, will be an outlaw who finds the trail of the
young woman and decides to avail himself of the bounty so fortuitously placed in his grasp. I will take
you captive, ignore your pleas for freedom, and happily work my will upon you."

"And what if I don't want to have your will worked on me'?" I asked, showing as much of my mad as
was safe. "What if I want to do something else?"

"As your uncle, I'm entitled to make your choice for you, sweetheart," he told me with amused patience
and a wolfish grin. "Your choice turned out to be doing it my way, so we don't have to go into it any
further. Just make sure you stay in the white zone when you start running. There are other zones around
here you'd like a lot less, where all women found in it are made slaves and badly abused, some
dominated by men, some dominated by other women. There are also all-male zones where women
would be very unwelcome, and you especially don't want to end up there. Just eat your breakfast, and
then we'll get started."

"I don't want to get started," I said through my teeth, seriously considering throwing all those dishes of
food he was uncovering at him. "And I don't want any breakfast if I have to have it with you! I'm going
back to my own pavilion."

"You don't have a pavilion any more," he answered, half ignoring me as he began piling my plate with
food. "Just the way I won't have one any more once we finish this food. We have to be moving on to the
next place that's waiting for us, and the next thing, to be done-and the place where we'll rejoin John
Little. He sent me a message saying he'll be going through a different zone, but we'll meet again farther
in toward the center. Now, pick up that fork and start eating."

The look he shot me then was supposed to be stern and commanding, but I could tell he was watching
for a reaction to the information he'd just given me. I didn't try to hide the fact that I found it just as
interesting as he did, or at least I didn't try to hide it from him. For the benefit of the slaves and any
viewing equipment they might have gotten working again, I pouted, snarled, glared and huffed, then dug
into the food I had suddenly developed an appetite for.

The day around us was pretty even at that early hour of the morning, .and most of the men in the crowd

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were walking back and forth inhaling the fresh air and touching the hilts of their swords, as eager and
excited as a bunch of kids waiting to start their first mixed but unchaperoned picnic. Most of the women
in the group were young and pretty, sending the men teasing, insolent glances while we waited for the
mounts to be brought up. That teasing majority consisted of slaves, of course, and the men had been
cautioned to run down only the woman whose dress matched the color of his shirt. Some very few of the
women were going through with male companions, and mix-ups wouldn't have been appreciated by
either member of those couples.

When the mounts were brought up, there was a delay in departure until all of the guests present had a
chance to examine them. Rather than supplying live animals which would give trouble to the
inexperienced rider, the Sphere provided very cleverly made robots in the form of four-footed kiddie
cars, capable of being managed by anyone with an I.Q. above 20. The things were large enough to
accommodate any of us comfortably, came in stripes and plaids and solid colors, seemed to be made of
hide and hair, and even moved their heads as if they were alive. The reins on them were jeweled leather,
and they were only partly for show; the mounts' forward movement was controlled by foot pedals
installed in the stirrups of the wide, soft-leather saddles; press down with either set of toes and the thing
rolled rather than walked forward, moving up to a good clip depending on how long you pressed. If you
wanted to slow or stop you pulled on the reins, again the length of pulling time determining whether you
simply slowed or stopped completely. The mount was not only well balanced to avoid its going over, it
even had a computer brain to keep it from doing something that might cause it to fall over. It was as
foolproof as high technology and lengthy experience with damned fools could make it, and those in the
group looked forward even more to getting started.

The mount assigned to me turned out to be white, an occurrence that set some of the men chuckling as
one of the male slaves helped me into the saddle. The skirt of my dress was wide enough to let me sit
astride, and I didn't notice the snickering group with their eyes on me until one said something to the
others that set them laughing, then was answered by another, "She won't be for long if she makes a habit
of riding that way. Getting caught might come too late."

They all laughed again and sent brief glances toward Val, who was deep enough into his role to chuckle
indulgently while sending me a dirty grin. If I'd had even a hair less self-control I would have
dismounted again and practiced some forms on all of them, but that wasn't the time or place to act like a
beginner. I sent Val a glance that had a solemn promise in it, turned away from the lot of them, and toed
my mount into motion out of there.

It was an odd feeling to be rolling over the grass instead of trotting or galloping, but there was no
denying my kiddy car was easier and more comfortable to ride than some of the mounts I'd had in the
past. I headed away from the area of pavilions behind and among some of the other women, our
direction also taking us away from the river, the open country running into modest forest once we had
gone a short distance. As soon as we were out of sight of the pavilions the girls who were slaves each
picked a separate direction, and five minutes later I was riding alone.

I continued on through the wide, bright forest, beginning to enjoy the day and the ride in spite of myself.

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The Pleasure Sphere, just like the rest of Xanadu, was carefully weathercontrolled, which guaranteed
that no one would have their pleasure spoiled by day after day of rain or cold or something else inimical.
I usually preferred natural weather, but riding under wide green trees bathed in golden sunshine,
breathing in air like perfume, and hearing the birdsong all around, didn't let me be overly critical.

Despite the way I was enjoying the ride, I didn't hesitate to toe my mount up to top speed and keep it
there. It would not be too long before the men came riding after us, and if I could possibly manage it I
was going to ride all the way to our lunch stop before Val caught up with me. That pursuit game was
great entertainment for the men, but there was a reason why most of the women involved were slaves;
once a man sets out to literally hunt a woman down, something happens inside him and he's no longer
the nice, harmless guy who bought you a drink the day before. He becomes something else entirely,
something unpleasant. I didn't expect the same thing to happen to Val, but he was having too good a
time at my expense and I didn't see any reason to give him more of it.

The forest changed back to open grassland, and I still didn't see any signs of anyone else. When I
reached a rise in the ground I spotted a few tall poles in the distance to my left, white pennons standing
out motionless from their tops, probably announced the beginning or end of the white zone, depending
on how you looked at it. If I'd known for sure what was in the adjoining zone I might have gone that
way, but only the men had been given that information and Val hadn't indulged any urges to share it
with me. I moved in annoyance on my saddle, pulling at the pink skirt under me to make it more
comfortable, but it really didn't help much. Riding in skirts was stupid, but I supposed attacking a
woman in pants wasn't as easy or entertaining.

I'd been riding almost an hour when one of my occasional checks behind showed a lone figure, some
distance off but rolling right in my direction. I didn't have any doubts as to who it could be, but jamming
my toes into the stirrups didn't get me any more speed. It came to me then that the men must have been
given some way of finding their matching females, and also that their mounts were probably set to roll
faster than those of the women. Playing the games that unfairly made me mad, even though it wasn't
anything completely unexpected. The men were the ones paying to have a good time, so weighting the
game in their favor was only a matter of course. If I hadn't been one of the ones being pursued, I
wouldn't have thought about it twice.

But I was one of the ones being pursued, and playing sitting duck has never been my favorite pastime.
There was the beginning of a stand of stone ahead and to my right, a jumble of rocks and boulders that
almost seemed dropped there to break up the monotony of the landscape. I turned my mount in that
direction and continued on at top speed, determined not to give up without a struggle.

By the time I reached the rocks the rider behind me was a lot closer, and was now recognizably Val. I
had turned to check on his progress any number of times, but not once had he tried signaling me to stop,
just as though he wasn't about to change the rules of the game. If he had signaled me we would have
been partners again instead of pursuer and pursued, and I didn't think he was ready to go that way yet.
He was getting a kick out of chasing me down, but not the sort of kick l would have enjoyed giving him.



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I turned my mount in among the rocks and boulders, doing nothing to slacken my speed, but the
computer brain in the kiddy car didn't agree with my decision and automatically slowed me down to
keep me from piling up because of a badly placed piece of rubble. I cursed with frustration and nearly,
put my toes through the stirrups, but my speed kept going down instead of up, my mount no more than
picking its way between two twenty-foot monoliths. I passed the slabs of rock, searching hard for the
break I'd been hoping for when I'd entered that place, and suddenly a large form leaped up behind me,
put a hand around my waist, and pulled the reins out of my quavering fingers. I'd had an instant to see
that it was Greg jumping up behind me to ride double, dressed the way Val was, and the startlement
quickly gave way to something a lot colder.

"You'd better watch that language, young lady," he said with mock sternness as he began guiding my
mount around the monolith on the right. "If I hear it again, I'll have to punish you. But at that, you've
done me a favor. I expected to have to ride out after you, not have you come in here to me."

"Greg, what are you doing?" I asked unsteadily, seeing with surprise that behind the rock there were
three male slaves waiting with four mounts, the men also dressed in the costumes Greg and Val wore. I
knew immediately that the three were slaves; they were too good-looking and well made to be guests;
what I didn't know was what they were doing there, riding with Greg. I thought I knew well enough
what he had in mind, in general if not specifically.

"What I'm doing is capturing a runaway female I intend having some fun with," he answered in
amusement, stopping my mount in front of the slaves, then gesturing to two of them. "I'm going to have
a lot of fun with my captive, Jennifer, right after I have even more fun with the man following her."

He put both arms around me then lifted me toward the two reaching slaves, and all I could do was
struggle a little as they got me on my feet between them. Greg slid down off my mount and let the third
slave lead it away, then moved closer to stop in front of me. I looked up at him with what must have
looked like vulnerability, and he grinned suddenly and put a hand to my cheek. ,

"Pretty little Jennifer," he murmured, letting his fingers move gently over my cheek. "You said last night
that you wanted to make it up to me for what you did. Are you still ready to make it up to me?"

"Yes," I conceded with difficulty, knowing it was a waste of time, but saying it anyway. "I am ready,
Greg, so you don't have to . . . "

"Ah, but I do," he interrupted with an even stronger grin, watching as I tried to get away from the two
slaves and go to him. "Your uncle has to be punished for the way he spoke to me, and you-you have to
be punished for what you did last night. Are you ready to be punished?"

"Greg, please don't . . ." I began, but I was being ignored again. Both of his hands came to the front of
my dress and pulled with moderate strength, and. the fingers of the slaves tightened on my arms as the
whole top of my dress ripped away.



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"You really are very pretty, Jennifer," Greg drawled, smirking as his eyes ran intrusively over my now
bare breasts. "Pretty all over. Have you any idea what it will be like to be used by three male slaves who
have spent the last year or more catering to the whims of very rich, very spoiled 'women? In all that time
they haven't been allowed to really have a woman, but now I've told them they can have you. Do you
think you'll still be able to make things up to me after they're done with you?"

The fingers of the two slaves holding me automatically closed tighter on my arms again, and a glance at
them formed the ice in my middle and froze it solid. The looks in their eyes held the memory of
everything those men had been forced to go through so long, the memory of every pain and insult and
slight and frustration they'd been made to put up with.. Right next to that look was the one that said
they'd soon be able to replace those memories with better, more pleasant ones, and the soft breeze
fluttering around the pile of rocks touched my bare flesh and made me shiver.

"Greg, don't do this," I tried, looking up at him distressed. "I know you're angry with me, but if you give
me the chance I really can snake you forget about it. My uncle won't . . . . "

"Do anything but regret what he's already done," he finished for me, an absolute refusal to consider
anything but what was already decided on in his tone and eyes. "And I don't think that will be long in
coming. Since he's gotten so possessive about you, maybe I ought to make him watch your punishment
before giving him his."

Greg chuckled in amusement, reached out to take one of my breasts in his hand, then turned to watch -
the faint trail around the monolith we stood behind. I could hear Val's mount picking its way through the
rocks on the other side just the way he could, and the two slaves didn't let me pull away from the
deliberately insulting touch.

In no time at all Val appeared, his mount rolling easily around the slab, he himself looking around in
amusement while glancing down at this saddle. I was sure then that there was something that let his
mount follow mine no matter where I went, but what I wasn't sure about was what to do next. I now
knew what Greg had in mind for me, and although it wasn't likely to be pleasant it also wasn't likely to
kill me or incapacitate me for long, which meant I had no real excuse for breaking my role. What he had
in mind for Val was the kicker, though, the unknown that could make or break the entire assignment. It
was almost certain that we were under the sort of observation we'd been under since we landed on the
planet, so I had to be careful about what I did. I was sure Greg was just angry and didn't intend doing
anything too awful to Val . . .

"Well, good morning, Mr. Carter," Greg called out to Val as soon as my partner saw us, pleasant
welcome in his voice. "Lovely day for a ride, isn't it?"

"What do you think you're doing, Rich?" Val growled, his amusement gone, his mount pulled to a halt
about ten or fifteen feet away from us. "I thought I told you to stay away from my niece."

"So you did, Mr. Carter, so you did," Greg agreed amiably, giving my breast a last squeeze before

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turning all the way to face Val. "But I'm not really here to see your niece; she'll be taken care of by the
men with me. The one who actually brought me out all this way is you."

"You're not much my type, Rich," Val answered dryly, then dismounted and walked forward a few feet.
"Tell your men to let her go, and then we can settle this between us."

"I don't think they'd care for the idea of letting her go just yet," Greg drawled, taking a step or two
toward Val. "You see, I promised her to them after I took care of you, and I'd hate to disappoint them.
How are you with your hands, Mr. Carter?"

"You intend fighting me?" Val asked, his face expressionless as he watched Greg open his swordbelt
and throw it aside. Someone who didn't know him might believe he was expressionless through fear, but
I could see the strong, eager anticipation in his eyes. I stirred between the two men holding me, surprised
and relieved that that was all Greg had planned for Val, and the two slaves tightened their grips again.

"No, Mr. Carter, I don't intend fighting with you," Greg answered, and now there was a cold, hard edge
to his voice. "I intend beating the living hell out of you, and I usually make my intentions good. Get rid
of that swordbelt and step right up-if you've got the guts."

The mockery in Greg's challenge brought Val's head up in insult, the damned fool, and his hands went
immediately to his swordbelt. A minute later it was open and gone, and then the two of them had closed
to fighting distance with each other. Greg held his hands up in formal boxing style, and Val's loose, non-
boxing stance and movement made the Management man grin.

"I'm really going to enjoy this, Mr. Carter," he gloated, beginning to circle to his left. "You, however,
won't get any fun out of it at all. "

With the last of his words he threw a left jab and a fast, hard right, obviously intending to catch Val flat-
footed, but he should have remembered that saying about the best laid plans. The left jab didn't quite
make it and the right missed by a mile, and then Greg's head snapped up and he was stumbling
backward, his nose bloody from the gentle touch of Val's fist. Val didn't box, of course, but what he did
do seemed to be a pretty good substitute.

"If that's your idea of enjoyment, you're in the wrong zone, Rich," Val commented, watching as Greg
swiped at his bloody nose with the back of his hand. "If you're smart you'll call this off right now, and go
back to where you're supposed to be."

"You bastard!" Greg snarled, glaring at his opponent. "I'll go back after I take care of you!"

His anger launched him at Val again, fists up and chin tucked in, the overconfidence gone and
determination in its place. A number of lightning blows were exchanged, the sort that make you flinch at
the thought of being on the receiving end of one of them, but the two big men weren't flinching. They
really wanted to get at each other with their hands, but when Greg finally reached Val he didn't find the

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satisfaction he was looking for. I don't know much about boxing, but it looked like he set Val up for
what's usually known as the "old one-two," then pulled it off. His left fist caught Val in the middle and
his right followed immediately to Val's jaw, and then Val was supposed to go down. What really
happened was Val grunted at the left in his stomach and moved his head a little with the force of the
right, then came back and belted Greg in the face with what looked like more strength than he'd started
with. I really did flinch at the power in that blow, briefly sympathizing with the stunned surprise Greg
showed just before he was hit. I've mentioned before how well Val can take pain and punishment, but I
don't know if I've made it clear how demoralizing that ability is for his opponent. When you hit someone
with everything you've got and they just stand there grinning and getting ready to give it back, your first,
very wise impulse is to turn tail and get the hell out of there. I didn't start my career as an agent with a
nine rating in hand to hand, so I speak from personal experience. Greg Rich must have felt that impulse
just before Val's fist reached him, but by then it was too late.

Greg staggered backward to sprawl on his back, his handsome face a bruised and bloody mess, not
unconscious but too dazed to get up again. Val stood and looked at him for a minute, briefly sucking at
one knuckle on the hand that had connected with Greg, then he turned away from his former opponent
and started toward me, his black eyes going to the two slaves holding me. The slaves dropped my arms
so fast you would have thought I'd suddenly burst into flames, and the third one over by the mounts
paled and edged away from what looked like the new action that was about to start. No one was
prepared to argue with that look in my partner's eyes-but Greg Rich, on the ground behind him and to
the left, couldn't see it.

"Stop right there, you bastard," he slurred, leaning up on one elbow to glare his hatred at Val, one of his
fists no longer empty. Val stopped and turned slowly to see the blaster the rest of us had already seen,
and rather than laugh in relief, the slaves to either side of me froze in shock. What Greg was doing was
clearly not on the announced agenda, and the slaves were suddenly more afraid than eager for fun.

"You really did think you were going to get away with it," Greg half-snarled, half-laughed, keeping his
eyes on Val as he struggled to his knees. "I wasn't going to use this on you until I was good and ready,
but I'm ready sooner than I expected to be. You can delay it a minute or two by getting down on your
belly and begging, so why don't you try it? If you do it nicely enough, I might only burn your legs off."

The blaster leveled on Val was unwavering-even when Greg chuckled, and my mind was racing so fast
it nearly reached light speed. Anything can be stopped by words except a blaster bolt that's already on its
way, I'd once thought, and even in that instance I wasn't entirely wrong. I looked around carefully as I
waited for Val to say the words that would buy us some desperately needed time, but I suddenly noticed
that those words weren't coming, and Greg noticed the same thing.

"Beg me, damn you, beg for your life!" he snarled, his eyes blazing as he forced himself to his feet.
"Don't just stand there staring at me as if you don't give a damn what I do! Don't you care about living?"

"Life at any price turns out to be worth what you pay for it," the idiot who called himself my partner
answered, folding his arms as he calmly continued to hold Greg's gaze. "If I let myself fall so low that I

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crawled and begged, what would I do with my life even if I got it back? And if I lost it anyway, I'd have
put myself through hell for nothing. You're wasting your time waiting for something that won't happen,
Rich. Whether I live or die, I'll be doing it on my feet."

"Not for long, you won't," Greg growled, finality clear in every word as his hand tightened around the
blaster hilt. "It's all yours, sucker, and you can't say you didn't beg for it."

He lifted his hand and extended the blaster just a little more, taking careful aim instead of just squeezing
one off, sighting directly on a motionless, expressionless Val. With Greg Rich being so far out of reach
my partner had no other real option open to him, aside from diving and trying to hit dirt, but Val didn't
even try that. If he'd been alone only a misfire would have saved him, but luckily for him he wasn't
alone. When it first came to me that the damned fool was going to be the way he'd been on the liner in
front of those men who were going to jump on his head, I stopped looking around for a miracle and did
the only thing I could. The slave to my left was too intent on the confrontation to notice when I slipped
the knife out of its sheath on his hip, and also didn't notice my whispered thanks to the Lord of Luck.
The weapon could have been the cheapest sticker made and would still have served its purpose as trim
for a costume, but that was Xanadu, and on Xanadu things weren't done the cheap way. The shape of the
sheath had led me to hope that it wasn't lying about its contents, and sure enough I got what I'd hoped
for: a beautifully made bowie knife, and even more than that, one that seemed balanced properly for
throwing. Greg and Val were exchanging ageless wisdom when I hefted the knife to get the feel of it, but
their-discussion ended too damned soon. When Greg raised his weapon and leveled it it was too late to
worry any more about feel, so I took the knife by its tip, sent one last frantic appeal to the Lord of Luck,
and threw with every bit of skill I could call up.

The Lord of Luck definitely had to be on Val's side. The knife wobbled sickeningly when it left my
hand, convincing me that I'd also thrown away our last shot at getting out of that mess unairconditioned,
but the wobble somehow equalized itself in the seconds of the knife's flight, and suddenly the hilt was
standing out of Greg's chest, right where I'd wanted it to be. Greg grunted and looked down in faint
surprise, raised his eyes to me with even more surprise, then tried to say something. Instead of the words
coming out the blaster fell from his hand, and then he began crumpling down after it, the final glaze
already in his eyes. I ignored the way he was falling and just plumped down on a bunch of stones
without feeling them, then put my face in my hands and rubbed at my eyes.

"That was a nice throw," Val's voice came after a minute, sounding matter of fact. "Are you all right?"

"No, I am not all right!" I snarled in the Absari trade language, shaking off the gently concerned hand
that had come to my shoulder. "And if I'd been stupid enough to leave things to you, I sure as hell
wouldn't have been all right! Are you really that determined to get us killed, Val? Why the hell didn't
you do what he asked and give me more than ten seconds to come up with something that counted?"

"I thought you said you understood the concept of standing on principle," he came back from his crouch
beside me, ignoring the way I was glaring at him. "There are certain things I just won't do, and begging
for my life is one of them. And besides that, it wasn't necessary. You didn't need more than ten seconds."

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I stared at his authentically calm and easy grin for a bit longer than ten seconds, then began describing
him in terms of personal habits, probable ancestry, and anatomical variations from norm, all of the one
syllable variety. His face took on a pained expression as he straightened out of his crouch, and then he
bent down to "help" me to my feet, using the gesture to cut into my tirade.

"You'd better turn that off and fast," he muttered to keep his voice from traveling to the slaves, those
eyes looking straight down at me. "it would be rude and ungrateful of me to take the woman who just
saved my life and wash her mouth out with soap, but that's what will happen if you don't cut it out. Now,
what are we going to do about these slaves?"

"You can make pickled pigs feet out of them for all I care," I growled, yanking my arm out of his hand.
"There's no way in hell anyone observing that throw will consider it beginner's luck, and as soon as the
questions start, the game is over. And it's too bad I didn't let you go through that entire sequence last
night after all. It might have taught you a little prudence when it comes to dealing with me; next time I'll
see to it that you don't lose even a minute's worth. Remember that if you're ever again in a mood for
handing me infantile threats."

My big-mouthed partner was suddenly all out of what to say, so I turned away from him again and
began walking among the rocks and stones, trying to regain self-control. I didn't know why I was so
upset and I didn't know why I'd been so bottom-line with Val, and I didn't know what would happen
next. It would be fantasizing to believe that our little set-to with Greg hadn't been observed, and I wasn't
looking forward to the questioning the Management would use to find out what was going on. Even if I
told them about the death warrant in the first five minutes they would still use questioning to verify what
had been said, and then I'd be able to find out how they'd decided to take it. They were legally bound to
honor the warrant, but what they did to Val and me for landing with false papers before they did the
honoring was the part that would bring interest to our lives. We'd be free to serve the warrant after they
finished with us, if we were able to do anything as complicated as walking . . . .

I stopped still and my thoughts ground to a halt, my stare going down to what my wandering had led me
to. Greg's body lay at my feet, the knife hilt still sticking out of his chest, his face too composed for the
way he'd died. I crouched beside him and put my fingers to that face, that battered, bloody face that I had
loved so much in the situational. He had wanted to protect me, had held me in his arms and had made
love to me any number of times, and I had killed him without hesitation and without thought, buried a
knife in his chest and then thanked the Lord of Luck for the accuracy of the throw. She doesn't regret
what she does, Val had told Ringer, and I hadn't realized then how damning that truth was. What sort of
a woman could kill a man she loved and not regret it'? Wouldn't I do the same thing to anyone stupid
enough to love me? Damned right I would, so it was a good thing nobody could or did love me. I wasn't
a woman I was a Special Agent, and I couldn't afford to let anyone around me forget that.

"Come away from that," Val said, appearing next to me to lift me to my feet and walk me away, his arm
around my shoulders holding me tight against him. "I thought you would be smarter than to waste
concern on scum like that, Diana. If he'd had his way, you'd be entertaining those slaves right now, and

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most likely screaming out your pain for him to laugh at. It was something you had to do, so you did it. If
it hadn't been him, it would have been me, just remember that. "

He was speaking very softly and soothingly, holding me against him with one arm around me and one
hand to my hair, trying to comfort what he thought he understood. The hell of it was I didn't need
comforting, and perversely, that was what seemed to be upsetting me. I'd had the choice of what to be a
long time ago, and I'd made my choice without regret. To start regretting it now would be as ludicrous as
it would be futile.

"At least I have some good news for you," Val went on, still patting my hair. "No one saw any part of
what went on between Rich and ourselves because this is a dead area, a spot never kept under
observation. It was the reason Rich picked it, the slaves told me, to keep him and themselves out of
trouble. They're in a panic now, believing the Management is about to find out what they were up to, and
none of them can face the thought of what will happen to them then. I told them that I'll condescend to
protect them if they'll swear to the story I'm going to tell, a version which won't be too far from the
truth."

"And what story is that?" I asked, not bothering to move from the comfort of my position against him. I
was feeling a bone-weary tiredness that would pass after a little while, but right then the strength and
determination just weren't there.

"We're going to say that Rich had them ride along with him without telling them why, which puts them
in the clear," Val said. "After that we're going to alter the fight a little, saying that Rich reached for his
blaster while we were struggling, and I was able to put my knife into him before he could get me in his
sights. I told the slaves I didn't want anyone knowing my fifteen-year-old niece had to save my life, and
they bought it. They don't seem to know that a throw like the one you made isn't something every
teenage female is able to do."

"It'll come to them after the shock wears off, but by then we'll hopefully be long gone," I said with a
sigh, then forced myself to move off him. "I don't think we can count on having luck like this again, so
you damned well better be crazy about everyone we meet from now on. Save that mild dislike of yours
for our target."

"Yes, ma'am, anything you say," he drawled, grinning faintly as he let me go. "Do you want my vest
before we head out for the lunch spot?"

I looked down at the tattered rags of the top of my dress, noticing that Val's eyes were in the same place,
and made a sour face at him.

' "You were the one who was supposed to do that, but since you didn't I can get away with covering up,"
I said, holding one hand out for the vest. "As a matter of fact it might be the best idea after all. We don't
want those slaves getting the idea of asking for me as part of their price for going along with your story.
Your role character would have no choice but to agree. "

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"Since it's my role character, I'm the one who decides what gets agreed to," he said, slipping off the
leather vest and handing it to me. "As soon as you've got this on, get mounted."

He walked away from me to go back to where the slaves were standing huddled together, giving me no
chance to tell him what I thought of him. He was still disobeying orders, and hadn't learned a damned
thing from what we'd gone through; he would continue doing things his way, even if he got us killed. I
slipped into the vest-which was a wraparound for me-and resisted the urge to do a little rock throwing on
the way to my mount.

Predictably enough we made the lunch spot before anyone else, and Val lost no time reporting the
trouble he'd had to the proper authorities. He'd left Greg's body back among the rocks, and his
indignation over the question of why he'd done so was nearly comical. We'd decided to leave the body
there so the _ Management could investigate and satisfy themselves that there .was no messing around
involved, but Val demanded to know if he was expected to worry about the body of a man who had tried
to kill him. The Management reps took his misinterpretation as an indication of innocence, and hurried
to smooth down his ruffled feathers. We were served a sumptuous lunch by female slaves who crawled
all over him, and Greg Rich was never mentioned to either one of us again.

After lunch it was costume-changing time, and this time Val got desert gear complete with burnoose and
curved sword, and I got a too-thin layer of yellow veils and silver jewelry. I was sent out first in a
wheeled and curtained litter with male slaves acting the part of guards, supposedly the bride of a sultan
on her way to the wedding festivities. Val followed with his own group of slaves, a khan who was the
bitter enemy of the sultan, who would prevent his having the woman of his choice. They rolled up to us
in pursuit, his group and my "guards" swinging their curved swords in carefully choreographed
movements, and in no more than two minutes, all of my guards were disarmed and captured. The khan
himself rolled up to my halted litter, dismounted slowly, then came close to raise one of the curtains.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he drawled, using the point of his sword to brush aside one of my
body veils, an action that was totally unnecessary considering the transparency of those veils. "A little
something to distract a man on a quiet afternoon, perhaps?"

"Don't you even think about touching me," I hissed, all too well aware of the attention of all those
slaves. The bastard had me trapped into my role with all those witnesses around, and the amusement in
his eyes said he meant to take advantage of that.

"I've already thought about it," he said with a grin, sheathing his sword before turning his head to the
slave standing next to him. "Let's continue on to the place we'll be having dinner, but not at too fast a
pace."

"As you say, master," the slave acknowledged with an amused chuckle, watching as Val climbed into
the litter with me and carefully closed the curtain behind him. Through the thin yellow curtains I could
see the slaves getting ready to move out, and then Val had his swordbelt off and was lying down next to

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me.

I spent the entire ride in Val's arms, the warmth of his lips on mine an almost constant thing, and when
we reached the pavilions where we would spend the night I was in a strangely contented mood-until I
left the litter and saw the curtains from the outside. They'd all been rolled up when I'd first gotten into
the litter, so I hadn't known that they were transparent only from the inside. None of the slaves riding
around the litter would have known it even if we'd spent the afternoon playing cards, only Val hadn't
seen fit to mention that fact. What he had mentioned was that after that afternoon, little Jennifer should
no longer be trying to keep her uncle Val's hands off her. I hadn't wanted to agree with him, but it was
fairly obvious that any young, impressionable girl would have acted as I had with Val only if she were
horribly in love with him. She couldn't be expected, to be simply enjoying a little casual sex the way I
had' been doing, so I'd left the litter holding tight to his arm and looking up at him adoringly. By the
time I. learned the truth I was already trapped, and I was so furious it wasn't safe for Val to come near
me for the rest of the evening. Another man would have worried at least a little, but all he did was grin
with that stupid laughter in his black eyes.

The next three days were more of the same, with only the costumes and scenarios changing. I had to
spend the time clinging to Val's arm whenever we walked together, constantly looking up at him with
loving eyes, and eagerly agreeing to everything he told me to do, no matter what it was. I took one
opportunity of our being alone together to tell him that I was going to kill him as soon as we were off
Xanadu, but all he did was laugh and tell me he'd worry about it then.

The evening of the third day found us in a camp as large as our original camp, showing that everyone
had been gathered in from the various zones. A general party was arranged in one very large pavilion,
and everyone was costumed beautifully for the elegant surroundings. The crowd was in a good mood
and really enjoyed the refreshments, and halfway through the evening John Little showed up at the
couch Val and I were sharing, a really beautiful male slave walking along behind him.

"Well, Val, have you been enjoying yourself?" Little asked as he pulled a chair nearer our couch, leaving
the slave to stand quietly behind him. "I know I have."

"I've been more than enjoying myself, John," Val answered, feeding me another salted nut. "The days
have been filled with revelation and learning, haven't they, Jennifer?"

"Oh, yes, uncle Val," I said, only just able to keep from chewing off his fingers.

"Sweet little Jennifer." Little laughed, especially at the blush I didn't have to force much. "I see you've
finally grown to appreciate your uncle. You've learned to obey him very nicely, and you seem much
improved."

"Thank you, Mr. Little," I managed without choking, looking quickly away from the slave behind
Little's chair. I'd tried to make it easier on myself by avoiding the man's ridiculous smirk, but looking at
the slave was much worse. His beautiful face was expressionless, but his eyes were briefly filled with

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frustration and hatred and pain and weariness, likely triggered by the way Little was trying to humiliate
me. He'd clearly had his own share of humiliation, that slave, and very briefly his mask had slipped.

"I've come by to resume my role as adviser, Val," Little said as a goblet was handed to him and then
filled with wine. "You'll be asked later on this evening if you'd like to continue moving through your
zone or go ahead deeper into the Sphere, and the answer you should give is continue on deeper. There's
something in the heart of the Sphere that you just have to see."

"What's that?" Val asked, not sounding terribly enthusiastic, reaching around with his own goblet to
have it refilled. Doing that he missed the way Little's slave paled, but I didn't.

"I couldn't possibly describe it," Little answered with a small laugh of amusement, only glancing in my
direction. "It is, however, the best the Sphere has to offer, and I promise you you won't be disappointed.
I haven't misled you so far, have I?"

"No, that's true, you haven't," Val conceded, letting me drink some wine from his goblet. "What do you
say, Jennifer? Should we have a go at it?"

"I'll go wherever you do, uncle Val," I gushed, seeing the brief look of questioning in his eyes. "If Mr.
Little says you'll have fun there, then . . . .

"Then you want to share it with me," he finished in nauseating tones of fond indulgence, patting my
hand. "And of course you will. It sounds fine to me, John. Onward and upward it is."

"Good," Little said with a satisfied nod, taking his goblet with him as he stood. "I'll see you in the
morning, then."

He headed back toward the side of the tent he'd come from with the slave following silently in his
shadow, and Val took a handful of the salted nuts and gave them to me.

"Now you feed me, sweetheart," he said, then switched to the trade language to add, "What do you
think?"

"That's got to be where our target is," I conceded, putting the first nut into his mouth. "I have the feeling
we're really going to have to watch our steps, though. We know `they have something in mind, and this
might be what he was after all along. "

"Whatever that comes to," he agreed, taking a nut and feeding it to me. "Are you sure we have no choice
but to walk in like blindfolded innocents? I don't like the sound of our destination, not if he thinks it's the
best part of the Sphere. "

"Come up with a workable alternative, and I'll probably go for it faster than you do," I said, looking at
him as I continued to feed him. "I also have the feeling that fun time is over-for both of us."

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"Only temporarily," he said around the last mouthful I'd given him, his eyes starting to develop that
stubborn look. "We'll go in there, finish this thing right, then take ourselves back to the Station. Don't
forget you've got a lot of getting even left to do. You're not going to let anything stand in the way of that,
are you?"

"No, of course not," I told him with a small smile, then put the nuts aside and took his arm to rest my
head against it. After careful consideration, being able to do that without waiting until we were alone
just may have been worth all the rest of the nonsense.



CHAPTER 13

The next day was another day of travel for us, but not like the ones so recently passed. Barely a handful
of those who had dined with us chose the trip to the heart of the Sphere, and one or two who had wanted
to choose it had been discouraged and touted off onto something else. Val was grim when he told me
about that incident, and it didn't exactly fill me with lighthearted joy either. Only a certain sort of people
were being allowed to continue on, and when I looked at our fellow travelers I wondered why Val and I
had been given the go-ahead. All the others without exception, male and female alike, had been using
slaves during their previous four days, and those -slaves were very obviously the worse for it. I thought
about it for a few minutes, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together, and then groaned silently when the
light came. Val, to those of the Sphere, was a man who had taken his young niece and had raped her
repeatedly, and had also killed a man and shown nothing of upset at the doing. I was just along for the
ride, but the Management had obviously decided that Val fit in perfectly, and were more than happy to
have him. I noticed how Val had taken to standing practically on top of me right from the outset of the
trip, and made sure not to mention my conclusions to him. If I had, I probably would have had him in
my lap.

Our mode of transportation that day was a train that traveled without rails, each individual traveling on it
having his or her own car. Our needs were seen to by another horde of slaves, and the clothing we'd been
given was very old-fashioned. The men wore high-collared, uncomfortable-looking shirts with ties under
severe, close-cut suits, and the women were given high-necked and long-sleeved dresses that came down
to their shoe-tops. Everyone complained about the costumes, but for once our complaints were firmly
denied; if we were going where the train was going, that was what we had to wear while we did it. We
all grumbled but eventually had to give in, and I privately wondered why our personal luggage had been
dragged along with us every step of the way. The only time we'd used our own things since landing had
been the brief time after the physicals.

The train ride was, aside from the costumes, physically comfortable, but mentally it couldn't possibly
have been more boring. There was absolutely nothing provided in the way of entertainment or
distraction, and even requests for something to read were denied. We could sit in our chairs and stare out
the windows or at each other or at the slaves, but if the sparkling conversation lagged there was nothing

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to bring it back to life. There was no provision for privacy in the car except in the narrow bathroom, so
that meant people like Val couldn't even fill the time with their own entertainment. Despite his twisted
sense of humor, my partner had proved himself to be one of those who won't perform in public unless
he's drugged to the point of not knowing what he's doing. The slaves in our car kept him firmly in his
own seat, which added to his grim, unhappy silence.

The slaves set up a table and served us lunch, and didn't seem surprised when neither one of us showed
much of an appetite. The day had started as pretty as the previous ones had been, but right after lunch it
began to gray over. We continued on at a good pace and the overcasting continued as well, but not just
with clouds. Thick mist began blanketing the ground we were crossing, and despite the warmth of the
car to look outside was to shiver with an inner chill.

When John Little showed up with his slave at his heels, he did not get a warm welcome. Val had been
sitting with his arm around me since the lunch things had been cleared away, and nothing I said
prompted him to go back to his own seat. There was a look in his eyes that made the slaves walk very
softly and stay out of his way as much as possible, but at least he had the sense to swallow it down when
Little sat down opposite us.

"If this is your idea of the best there is, John, I'm going back to the zones as soon as this thing stops," he
complained to his good friend. "These clothes are impossible, and I haven't even been able to relax with
Jennifer. And just look at it out there!"

He waved a hand toward the window we sat near, where the ground had disappeared entirely in the mist.
What trees we passed were black, and twisted and unhealthy-looking. Everything out there was gray or
black, and the warmth and brightness of the sun seemed never to have touched any of it.

"It is rather depressing the first time you come through it," Little conceded, gazing out the window with
pursed lips and almost total unconcern. "When we get where we're going you'll see how appropriate this
all is, and we aren't that far from it now. Trust me, Val, you won't be disappointed."

Val grunted with very obvious doubt, but he didn't pursue his complaints any farther. He could afford to
be as skeptical as he liked, but he couldn't decide firmly against the place and he knew it. Little took his
eyes away from the loathsome landscape and stared at me for a while, but I pretended not to notice.
There was something in it worse than what we were riding through, and I really didn't need that.

We rode on in silence for a while, and then the train began to slow down. The mist was rising even
higher now, nearly covering everything inside it, but somewhere in the near distance, dark like
everything else, were several unmistakable shapes. Val peered at them through the window, then turned
to Little.

"Am I mistaken, or are those ships?- he asked, sounding more than a little puzzled. "Is this the Pleasure
Sphere's way of showing us the exit?"



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"Not at all." Little laughed, barely glancing where Val looked. "That's the heart's shuttle port, used by
people who want to go directly there and don't care to waste time coming overland. Some of the regulars
also come in their own ships, and bring them down here instead of paying docking fees in the Station.
Almost no one who comes here simply visits for a day or two and then leaves. The place has a very
special lure, Val, and just about everyone who visits it once comes back at least a second time."

Val nodded and made an attempt to look interested and anticipatory, not knowing or at least not
realizing that Little was talking about a hand-picked, very select few. Of course they came back a second
or third or fourth time; if they weren't the sort to enjoy what went on there, they were unlikely to have
been allowed in the first time.

The train kept slowing down, and before very long it came to a complete stop. Those of us who had been
cooped up so long with so little to do lost no time heading for the exit, but I noticed that the slaves who
had served us hung far back and tried to make themselves invisible, possibly against the off chance that
one of us would insist they come along. John Little's slave was as pale as the mist as he followed along
behind John, and he moved with a fatalistic defeat that was painful to see. He didn't have the option of
fading into the woodwork, and looked about as close to tears of terror as it's possible to get. Little must
have brought him along on a whim, or possibly to enjoy his terror, but whichever it was, the slave was
caught.

We were helped down the train steps into the mist, and once we all stood in the wet, swirling gray the
train moved on, almost silently, disappearing very quickly. It wasn't night-dark around us, only misty
gray, but that misty-gray turned everything unreal and made us feel we were the only people left alive on
the whole planet, if not in the entire universe. One of the other guests had brought a female slave along
with him, and the girl whimpered and shook with even more terror than Little's slave. It was fairly
obvious the slaves knew something we didn't-the "we" including everyone but John Little. That gem just
stood quietly with a private smile on his narrow face, a smile that broadened when the guest who had
brought the female slave knocked her to the ground with a casual backhanded slap to quiet her. We were
all too busy looking around at nothing and wondering- what would happen next to be distracted by
hysterics.

We stood in the thick, clinging gray for fifteen or twenty minutes, long enough to feel abandoned and
forgotten, long enough for our clothes to fill with the dampness and grow heavy and even more
uncomfortable. The dress I wore had been confining but warm; it slowly grew to be confining and
freezing, and Val wasn't doing much better. The material of all the clothing seemed designed to attract
moisture, and then we were distracted by the exclamation of one of the guests. A small, red light had
begun to glow in the mist, and even as we watched it it grew and expanded to the size of a large portal.
Without comment we all began to move toward it, holding the same silence we'd held the entire time
we'd stood there. Casual conversation is ordinarily usual among groups doing the same thing, especially
small groups; in that group not a single word had been exchanged.

We began to feel the heat as soon as we approached the redness, and by the time we were close enough
to see that it really was a portal we were heading for, the heat was enough to make us sweat. The

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temperature rose higher and higher, forcing us to break into a run, and once we crossed the red-glowing
metal threshold, panting and desperate, the torture eased off to the point where it was at least bearable. It
was surprising that no one had turned and run the other way instead, considering the possibility that the
heat might not have eased off once we were inside, and then I noticed that my automatic assumption was
wrong, Although all the guests and the female slave were still with us, the pretty male slave Little had
brought was nowhere to be seen.

"Welcome, travelers," a smoothly amused baritone announced, drawing our attention. "Welcome and
welcome again-to the halls of hell."

The tall, very handsome man with the pointed beard chuckled at the startled reaction his announcement
had drawn, but it was nothing we shouldn't have been expecting. We stood in a cavern of sorts with dark
rock all about and the mists still swirling around our ankles .and knees, but the lighting was red and
smoldering, and the heat was still above the comfortable mark. The man greeting us was dressed in
black slacks, black turtleneck shirt and black loafers, and in intricate silver medallion hung around his
neck gleaming redly. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed and seemed completely at home, and when his
eyes touched me as he examined each one of us in turn, I made sure to go wide-eyed and clutch fearfully
at Val's arm. Val patted my hand in a preoccupied way and paid no further attention to me, clearly
remembering what I'd told him forcefully enough: I was going to have to pretend to be afraid at times in
that place, and as long as he didn't see me getting ready to protect myself with everything I had, he had
to remember it was just an act. He had reluctantly agreed to check first before going all protective and
making people wonder, but I didn't know how far I could rely on that agreement. I could just hope it
would be far enough.

"Well, you seem a somewhat likely group," the man observed, still looking us over. "There are choices
and decisions to be made by you, but those can wait until we get you a bit more comfortable. Just follow
me."

He turned and began crossing the cavern toward its far side, and there was nothing to do but follow
along as he'd all but ordered. His attitude was superior and abrasive, instilling the sort of mood in us that
the Management seemed to want. We still weren't talking to each other, but now the silence was growing
hostile.

We crossed the cavern and entered a side passage, and were still surrounded by rock that was lit with
red. The mist only just covered the floor now, and a short way down the passage there began a series of
heavy metal doors set into the rock and closed tight. The bearded man indicated a door then indicated
one of us, his superior smirk adding to the annoyance he had already caused. Val was trying very hard
not to look at him in that special way he had, and was succeeding only up to a point. It was a positive
relief when we were shown our doors, and were able to leave the passage and the man.

Val's door was just beyond mine, but once I'd pushed open the thing and stepped inside, I could see there
was no communicating between rooms. The room was carved out of the same rock the passage was
formed by, and the only thing interrupting the solid expanse was another door in the opposite wall, a

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mate to the one I'd just used. I stepped farther into the room to see what might be behind the door, and
found a pair of slaves waiting for me, one male and one female. The male quietly closed the door behind
me, and the female gestured to the massage table she stood near.

"If you will allow us, mistress, we'll help you get comfortable and relaxed," she said with a forced smile,
taking one small step forward. "You may also have your choice between us for your pleasure."

I glanced at the bearded male slave who stood with folded arms at the door, a smirk on his face as he
looked me over, and tried not to show my annoyance. If I'd been in the mood to be appealed to, neither
one of them would have made it.

"I think I'll stay with the comfort and relaxation," I told the girl, pulling the clammy skirt of my dress
away from my legs. "Do you have anything dryer than this to put on?"

It turned out the girl had a towel, which the male slave held while the girl helped me out of the dress.
Once I was bare the male put the towel around me from behind, then held it in place while he put his lips
to my ear.

"I heard the masters talking, mistress," he murmured, positioning his hands strategically on the towel.
"I've never served anyone with your sensuality rating before, but I would really like to. Lie down on the
table, and I'll give you a massage better than anything she can give."

The "she" he was referring to was the female slave, who was busily occupied with putting aside my
dress, and briefly I remembered Greg Rich's comment about the possibility of slaves taking advantage of
my age. The slave behind me was telling rather than asking, but I had something of my own to tell.

"Uncle Val said I wasn't to let anyone make me do anything that wasn't my own idea," I murmured back,
making no effort to pull away from him. "If they try, I'm supposed to tell him about it so he can
complain."

The hands on me immediately pulled away, and I turned my head to see a suddenly very jovial male
slave.

"I can tell the mistress is not in the mood for me right now," he said, laughing nervously as he backed
away toward the door. "If you should change your mind, mistress, just have the slave send for me."

He completed his hasty withdrawal then, closing the door fast behind him, and I was able to take myself
to the massage table without being bothered anymore. I was annoyed as hell about the slave's comment
on my supposed sensuality rating, that stupidity that had come up during the appraisal. Some women
may react a little more quickly and thoroughly than others, but just how quickly and thoroughly usually
depends on their partner. To say one woman is purely sensual and the next inert, is to say that the men
involved are laying the foundations for a great-sounding excuse. I was surprised that the slave had
mentioned it at all, and just thinking about it made the relaxing I was trying to do harder.

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The massage started, continued, and went on to its conclusion, and that's about the best that can be said
for it. The girl was almost good, but not quite up to taking all the knots out of my muscles. When it was
over she produced cool, wet cloths. to wash my entire body with, then went to one of the blank stone
walls, a blankness that was temporarily broken when she pressed on one part of the wall and opened a
four-foot section of what looked like closet or storage area. That was the place the wet cloths had
probably come from, and when the slave stepped back out she was holding something long and silvery.

"We have to get you dressed now, mistress," she said, coming toward me with a smile. "They'll be
expecting you soon, and won't begin until everyone is there."

"Expecting me for what?" I asked, sitting up on the table to get a better look at what the woman was
carrying. "What won't they begin?"

"I'm not permitted to discuss that, mistress," she answered, her smile turning just slightly forced. "The
masters insist on explaining matters in their own way, and it won't be much longer. Which pair of shoes
would you prefer?"

The long silvery object she was carrying was a gown, and she put it down to show the wide shoebag she
was holding under it. The shoebag opened easily to let her pull out two silver shoes, one a pump, the
other a sling-back, both with heels high enough to make them dressy. When I indicated the sling-back
she put the pump away and produced the second sling-back, then put all the shoes down and picked up
the gown again. I still didn't need help getting dressed but I got it again, and once I was in the shoes she
brushed my hair then opened the wall again to show me a full-length mirror. The long silver gown was
slit on the sides, was long-sleeved with practically all cleavage, and was tight enough to reflect black
instead of silver at certain stress points. When the slave gave me long silver earrings to go with the rest I
put them on, then looked at myself again with a critical eye. I turned back and forth a couple of times,
stood sideways, then came to the inevitable conclusion that no matter how long I stood there, Val would
still take one look at me and push the lecherous uncle bit for all it was worth. His reaction to the last
slinky outfit I'd worn was something I didn't care to remember, not when we were getting so close to
what we'd come for. I could only hope the Management kept us too busy for a while for him to take
advantage of the situation, at least until I did what I had to. After that I could do my own bit to make him
keep his hands to himself.

The slave was beginning to get antsy over how long I was taking to admire myself, so I let her urge me
away from the mirror and out the door opposite the one I'd come in by. Outside was another carved
stone corridor about five feet wide, and about ten feet to the right a second, perpendicular corridor
opened up to take us away from the area of rooms. The slave led me up the twisting corridor through the
roiling red mist, her ankles and mine lost to the thick, red stuff, neither one of us commenting on it. The
lighting was a lighter red but still a red, and the heat was just this side of uncomfortable. They were
going to a lot of trouble presenting the classic picture of hell, and much as I would have liked laughing
at the effort as childish, the increasing nervousness of my slave-guide took most of the humor out of the
situation.

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After a couple of minutes of walking, we came around one bend in the corridor and saw a wide arch
carved in the rock ahead of us, spanning the corridor and clearly acting as the entrance to a room
beyond. The slave came to an abrupt stop, quickly looked away from the arch, then glanced at me with
fear.

"The masters are waiting in there, mistress," she said as fast as she could, already edging back the way
we'd come. "Refreshments will be served by others like myself, who have been assigned that duty. I
have to get back to my own post now. I hope you have a pleasant stay."

She sketched a quick curtsey then hurried away, not once trying to meet my eyes again. If I'd been given
the chance I might have told her I wanted her to go the rest of the way with me, so she'd made sure I
wasn't given the chance. Sphere slaves seemed to live in perpetual terror in that place, and the attitude
was beginning to get to me. I don't like people who get a kick out of terrorizing the helpless, and I've
been known to show that dislike in very direct ways. I looked again at the entrance arch, then moved
ahead again in a deliberate way. If they were all so tough in there; they'd be looking forward to
terrorizing me along with the rest, and it would be a shame to disappoint them.

I walked up to the arch and through it, ready for whatever they had- waiting, but the only thing waiting
was about. a dozen and a half people, spread out in the large room and desultorily pretending to
socialize. The men were wearing all black the way the man who had greeted us had done, and the
considerably fewer women were dressed the way I was, in silver, clinging gowns. Quite a few eyes came
to me when I appeared, male and female alike, and then a naked male slave materialized at my elbow,
carrying a silver tray of drinks.

"Will you have refreshment, mistress?" he asked in a husky voice, extending the tray as his eyes looked
into mine. "I'll be glad to provide any refreshment you'd care to name."

He grinned at me insolently, just about the only slave I'd seen there who wasn't panic-stricken. Over his
shoulder a familiar face caught my attention, and when I looked at it directly I was pleased to recognize,
engaged in a low-voiced disagreement with John Little-Richard Radman. .

"Mistress, forgive me," the male slave whispered, his insolence gone, his hands causing the tray he held
to vibrate faintly. "I didn't mean to insult you. Please don't report me to the masters!"

"You didn't insult me," I told him sourly, reaching over to take one of the glasses from the tray he held.
"And this is all the refreshment I'm interested in right now."

"Yes, mistress," he acknowledged with a relief that was sickening, bowing and backing away. "Thank
you, mistress."

As soon as he could he turned and went elsewhere, leaving me to stand alone just inside the entrance to
the room. I sipped at my drink, wondering why Val wasn't there yet, deliberately keeping my eyes away

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from Radman. I was somewhat curious about the reason for the slaver's being there, but I wasn't about to
look my gift horse in the mouth. If Little had gotten him there for one of the reasons I'd planned, I would
thank the Lord of Luck once I was off that planet. It looked like my plans were finally starting to go the
way they were supposed to.

"Well, Jennifer, you look absolutely lovely," a voice said from my right, and I turned my head to see that
John Little had left Radman to come over to me. "That gown becomes you more than anything else I've
seen you wear."

"Thank you, Mr. Little." I pretended I didn't see the gleam in his eyes. "Do you know where uncle Val
is?"

"He's likely still-dressing," Little answered with his usual greasy amusement, making sure to hesitate
before the last word. "If a massage is to do what it's designed to do, it can't be rushed. Suppose I
introduce you around a bit until he shows up, eh? That way he'll be here before you know it."

He took my arm without giving me a chance to refuse, and rather than balk I went along with him. The
feeling that he was up to something was stronger than ever, and I wanted to know what it was. I let him
direct us both to a group of three women, examining them as we approached without being obvious
about it. All three of them were brown-eyed brunettes and the two younger women were pretty in a plain
way, but they were too strongly built to be considered attractive, especially with the way they were
holding themselves. The older woman stood square and belligerent, wearing her gown like a sack,
uncomfortable and unhappy and wanting everyone to know it. She was feeling put upon, and the two
younger women reflected the emotion, their own gowns fitting better but not much. Their eyes came to
me as we approached them, disapproval growing as they looked me up and down, their self-
consciousness increasing when they compared the way I looked to the way they looked. John Little was
wearing even more of a smirk than he usually did, and it suddenly came to me that he'd brought me over
to the women for the sole purpose of making them feel lousy. If I could have walked away at that point I
would have done it, but unfortunately I was already committed.

I was introduced to Margaret and her daughters, Estelle and Angela, all of us acknowledging the
introductions stiffly, and in the process learned that everyone there used first names only, surnames
never being mentioned. Little was sleek and urbane with the three women, laughing at them with his
eyes alone, and after a couple of minutes excused us from their company. I was ready to put my foot
down against being used like that again, but the next one he led me toward was Radman. The slaver
looked even more square and blocky than ever, dark haired and dark eyed and a little bulgy around the
middle, standing alone in his blacks with his feet in the mist. His eyes attached themselves to me even
before -we reached him, and John Little was just about preening himself.

"Jennifer, I'd like you to meet Richard," Little said in a tone that suggested "Richard" was no more than
a casual acquaintance only recently met. "Jennifer is here with her uncle Val, Richard, and he's done
quite a lot to brighten her pretty eyes. It's hard to describe how surly and bored she was before he took
her in hand and taught her how to behave. She's learned that if she wants him to make her feel good,

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she's got to be a good little girl. Isn't that right, Jennifer?"

I gave Little the blush of embarrassment he was expecting, glared at Radman for his low rumble of
laughter and tried to turn away from them both, but Little wasn't having any. His hand tightened on my
arm, the grip unbreakable unless I wanted to use something fancy, his chuckle joining Radman's laughter.

"That's one of the most important lessons for a little girl to learn, John," Radman rumbled in true
amusement. "If you don't behave yourself, you don't get what you need. Why don't you introduce her to
James next?"

Little's amusement and satisfaction were suddenly more forced than natural, and it took a look from
Radman before he nodded stiffly and reluctantly, then led me again away. The man holding my arm
wasn't very happy about the "suggestion" he'd been given, and that reminded me about the quiet
argument he and Radman had been having. I didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, Little
wasn't happy about it.

We found James seated in an intricately carved, straight-backed chair, one of the very few chairs in the
entire room, a big, ugly hulk of a man standing behind him. James could have been anywhere from fifty
on up, but just how far up was impossible to tell. His face looked like leather, but the creases in it had
not been made by laughter. He lifted his lean, tall body out of the chair as we approached, and he waited,
leaning slightly on a thin cane.

"James, I would like to present Jennifer," Little said, and his voice had a slight quiver in it. "She and her
uncle arrived with me this afternoon."

James nodded and then moved his eyes to me, and the impact of those eyes was enough to make me try
to take a step backward. Those eyes were gray and deathly cold, and if any eyes belonged in the
precincts of hell, they were the ones. I was stripped and knocked down and attacked by those eyes in the
seconds they moved over me, and then a faint smile touched the leather face.

"How do you do, Jennifer," James said in a cold, raspy voice. "I'm particularly fond of meeting young
ladies as pretty as you are. The combination of innocence and maturity has always fascinated me."

"No one above the age of five is as innocent as you're suggesting," I came back with a tremor in my
voice that had nothing to do with playacting. "And even above that, you're not my type. I don't like old
men."

I'd been trying to turn him off in the most direct way possible, letting him know that his roundabout
compliments were understood and entirely rejected, but he didn't get the point. His faint smile broadened
a millimeter or two, and his gray eyes glittered.

"Ah, spirit," he rasped, his fingers turning the thin cane. "That makes the game even more exciting.
Don't you agree, Matthew?"

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"Of course, sir," the hulk behind the chair rumbled, his stone-faced expression changing not at all.

"Matthew is my bodyguard," James continued, bringing my eyes back to him. "He shares all of my-
interests in life. Perhaps you and your uncle would care to be my guests after your visit here is over. I
came in my own ship, and there's plenty of room for passengers. My estate on my own world has
everything one could wish for."

"No," I told him flatly, feeling a chill at my backbone. "We're going home after this."

I expected some sort of argument, but those eyes merely turned flat and hooded. "A pity," he murmured,
his leatherlike face showing no emotion. "I would have found it most diverting. Some other time,
perhaps."

He bowed very slightly from the waist, then sat down again, and Little and I were free to move on.
Possibly dismissed would have been a more accurate word, but whatever word it was didn't matter to
Little. He took the opportunity to get us both out of there, and for once I agreed with him completely.
Anywhere in that room was better than right next to James, and I finished my drink fast and then got rid
of the glass on a passing slave's tray.

We were on our way to another group of people when Val finally showed up with three more men and
two women, all of them dressed in the guest motif. The other men and women headed immediately for
the slaves with drink trays, but Val headed for me. The good part about that was Little's hand
immediately leaving my arm; the bad part was the look in my partner's eyes as he came up to us.

"If I'd known what was waiting for me, I would have hurried," he said with a leer, reaching around to
rub his hand over my behind. "You should have come to my room instead of coming here, Jenny. You
don't want to be naughty and make your uncle Val do without, do you?"

"Oh, no, uncle Val," I whispered, grabbing his left arm with both of mine to get it off my, backside,
seriously tempted to let him know the depth of my revulsion. "I'd never want you to have to do without."

"You're such a good little girl," he said with a grin for the way I'd trapped his hand and arm, using his
free hand to pat me on the head. "Let's see if we can find some place for you to be an even better little
girl."

His grin widened with the knowledge that I couldn't very well refuse him as he began leading me back
toward the arch, but two steps of satisfaction was all he got. One of the bearded Sphere people appeared
in the arch, then walked to the center of the room.

"The time has come for your tour to begin, my friends," the man announced, looking around at the
guests. "Many of you are upset and impatient, I know, but we'll soothe that away. Follow me."



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Some of the guests tried to stop him and question him as he made for the far side of the room, but he
ignored them and just kept going, not giving a damn that he was increasing their annoyance. The slaves
in the room were standing well back away from the guests, and Val made a sound in his throat that was
close to a growl.

"These people are really getting on my nerves," he muttered to me in the base language, reluctantly
heading us after the bearded man. "I keep getting the urge to pick one up and smash him into a wall."

"I have the feeling they want you in that particular frame of mind," I muttered back. "See if you can get
your mind off my backside long enough to figure out why."

"If you wanted my mind off your backside, you should have stayed in that other dress," he countered,
but it was clear he was only paying partial attention to the banter. My comment had alerted him again to
the serious side of life, and he was looking around for an answer to my question.

We and the other guests followed after the bearded man, through a doorway that led into a series of
caves and caverns. The red light was redder there and the mist thicker, and we suddenly walked into a
scene that was straight out of imaginative fiction. Men and women in red turtlenecks, pants and shoes
with small horns pasted to their foreheads were prodding at naked, cowering men and women with
sharp, three-pointed pitchforks, and the blood on the ones being prodded showed the pitchforks were for
real. The naked victims were chained by the neck to the wall of the cave, and nothing they did fended
off the pitchforks. Their mouths were open as though they were screaming or crying, but no sounds
came through the laughter of the ones doing the prodding.

"Here's a simple choice for those whose tastes run to the simple," the bearded man said when we were
all gathered in the cave. "You may be devil's helper or damned soul, whichever way your interest moves
you. The lost souls start here and are softened up, so to speak, and then they're sent on to further
punishment. A taste of the whip, some time on the rack, red-hot pokers, being forced to the pleasure of
fiends, that sort of thing. Devils' helpers perform those chores, and also get first pick of the slaves among
the lost souls. In either capacity, the time passes swiftly and pleasantly."

He sent another amused glance toward the silent victims then moved on, drawing most of us along with
him. Two of the women and one of the men were staring at the two groups and licking their lips, but
which part of the picture they preferred wasn't immediately apparent. Val had also been staring, but with
no expression on his face, looking at the bearded male victims, and when he turned away from them to
follow our guide, I breathed a sigh of relief. It had seemed at first that he would have enjoyed using one
of those pitchforks, and if he'd tried I wouldn't have been able to break my role to stop him.

The next few caves showed us voiceless victims tied to whipping posts, stretched on racks, being seared
by red-hot pokers, being locked in tiny cages with spear points all around, being suspended over open
fires--no more than your simple, everyday, ordinary tortures. Our guide didn't even stop in any of them,
and when he finally did stop, it was for something special.



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"Here we have another opportunity for choice," he said, waving at the scene in front of us. "Those who
are naked are again lost souls, but those in red are demons. Only a very few guests choose to be
tormented here, but many choose the role of tormentor. Their victims are, for the most part, slaves."

Our guide fell silent to keep from distracting us from the scene, and it was easy to tell why most of the
victims were slaves. One victim was being forced to walk on a bed of glowing hot coals, another was
being prodded between a line of too-close, too-sharp knives, and another was being kept from surfacing
very often in a narrow but obviously deep pool by the use of a torch in the hands of one of the demons.
These victims were also screaming without sound, and when the guide turned and left the cave, Val and
I weren't far behind him. Some of those with us had lingered for a longer look, but my partner and I had
seen more than enough.

The rest of our tour companions were still looking around and enjoying the sights behind us, and our
guide had stopped farther ahead to wait until everyone caught up to him; Val took the opportunity to
make a stop of his own in the stone corridor halfway between those two points, glancing around to make
sure no one was paying undue attention to us.

"I think I have an answer to your question," he murmured in the trade language. "If I don't pay attention
to What I'm thinking, I experience pleasure every time I see a bearded man having something painful
done to him. I'd guess that under normal circumstances, I'd choose a place in those first two sections to
spend my time."

"Normal circumstances, right," I agreed, swallowing hard and fighting not to apply a death grip to his
arm. My eyes had gone to where our guide had stopped, in front of a large, metal-bound wooden door,
and suddenly I knew what had to be behind that door. I'd seen a report once about a certain place in the
Pleasure Sphere, but the location of the place hadn't been mentioned, and I hadn't added up the clues
until right then. I was sure I knew what lay behind that enigmatic door, and also knew that the last thing
I wanted was to look at what it hid.

"Are you all right?" Val asked, putting his hand to my face, his eyes sober and concerned. "It's almost
impossible to tell in this light, but you look pale. This place is enough to turn the stomach of a normal
mass murderer. Maybe I ought to get you out of here."

"Don't worry, I'll manage to survive," I told him with a small headshake, knowing I had to continue on
with it until I found out where Radman would be later-and alone. "How are you doing?"

"Lousy," he answered without changing expression, but something in his eyes stirred. "If I ever come
across the people who started this, nothing in this universe will save them even if I have to pay for it
with my own life. Sickness should be treated, not catered to, and the things who come here are sick.
Even though I know I can't do it alone, I keep wanting to stop all this."

"Just remember you can't do it alone, or we could end up being part of the funk" I warned him. "This is a
sovereign planet, partner, and what they do here is their own business. If we don't like it, we can leave."

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"Yeah, sure," he agreed with no agreement whatsoever, then took us along with the strengthening trickle
of people heading toward that door. Our guide waited until everyone was there, then gestured toward
what stood behind him.

"Behind that portal lies the last of your major options," he said, looking around with approval at all the
eager faces. "No guests are permitted to be victims here, for this is the realm of the fiends. These victims
also haven't been silenced, so you'd better be braced for the noise. The fiends, of course, prefer the noise
to silence."

He turned away to step to the door to open it, and the first scream rippling through sent a jagged knife
across my nerve ends. The scream had come from a man, and the terror and pain to be heard in it defied
all description. Val stiffened beside me despite the impassive expression he'd been wearing through the
previous caves, and some of our happy chatter died at the sound. We all moved forward, some with eyes
positively shining, and followed our guide through the doorway.

There's no way to gently or euphemistically describe what went on in that last cave behind the wooden
door. It wasn't as bad as the report I had read; it was worse, so much worse that every other sickening
thing I'd ever before seen in my life was relegated to the category of peccadillo. Our guide strolled along
when all I wanted to do was run, and then we came to the place where the screaming male victim wasn't
bearded. It took me a minute to realize that John Little's pretty male slave hadn't escaped after all, and
then I really saw what was being done to him on the surgical table he'd been strapped to. I pulled away
from Val, pushed through the interested spectators who were wondering why the scene was being
recorded by a wire camera, and ran ahead to the end of the area with a hand to my mouth. The end of the
area wasn't far and there was a door in the wall, and I barely remember tearing through the door and
slamming it behind me.

I stood outside the door and leaned against the rock wall, trembling so violently I didn't think I'd be able
to stop. I'd pretended to be sick to get myself out of there, but I wasn't simply sick, I was on the verge of
losing control over myself and killing every one of those scum I could get my hands on. I'd seen a lot in
my years as a Special Agent, but that- place outraged me more than anything else I had ever seen,
anything I had ever heard of. Our fellow guests had been wondering why that scene out of all the others
was being recorded, but I already knew. When it was all over the wire would be shown to the Sphere's
other slaves, an object lesson to teach what happens to those who try to escape. It would not be the first
such object lesson, and was undoubtedly the reason the slaves all felt such terror at this place. This was
where the unlucky ones ended up, as experimental animals for the mind-sick-or as object lessons. I
leaned against the rough stone wall, jamming my palms into my eyes, trying to force myself to stop
shaking.

"My poor Jennifer, are you all right?" Val's voice came from beside me, right after a burst of screaming
had sounded briefly with the opening of the door. He pulled me away from the wall and put his arms
around me with great concern. "The poor little thing shouldn't have been shown all that," he went on,
clearly to whoever was with him. "Is there some place she can rest a minute or two?"

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"There's a refreshment area just ahead of us," the voice of the guide answered, heavy with amusement.
"She can sit down there and have a drink, and pull herself together. You might be wise to examine some
of the lighter pastimes on display there, and choose one of them for her instead of what you've just seen.
No sense in having the hysterics of a little girl ruin your own good time."

"I'm sure you're right," Val agreed, maintaining a pleasant tone with difficulty. "The refreshment area is
that way?"

"That's right, straight ahead," the guide said. "The rest of us will be along in another minute or two."

"Fine," Val said, urging me along as he began moving. He waited until we'd taken half a dozen steps,
then switched languages and added, "Fine, hell. You can't tell me this time you're all right. As soon as
you stop shaking like a ship with a faulty firing chamber, I'm getting you out of here."

"No," I insisted, taking my hands away from my eyes and really making the effort to calm down. "It isn't
what you think. The only thing that happened was that I nearly put us both in the soup. Never in my
entire life have I been more tempted to kill in cold blood."

'Freezing blood," Val corrected, glancing down at me as we made our way toward an arch like the one
on the first refreshment area. "My blood turned cold the minute we walked into this place, and went
down-temperature from there. As a matter of fact, it's a good thing you ran when you did. I was seconds
away from doing something like that myself, and needed the distraction. I still say we ought to get out of
here right now."

"No," I repeated, filling my lungs with a deep breath. "We'll leave when we have what we came here
for."

"If you aren't the stubbornest woman I've ever met, I'll eat these caves," he growled, sending me a black-
eyed look that was all steel and anger. "I don't need your agreement to do it, you know. If I say we go,
we go."

"As far as the assignment goes, I call the shots," I reminded him, meeting that look with one of my own.
"If you pull me out of here before I have a chance at our target, I'll make sure my report lists the cause of
failure as due to delicate sensibilities. I won't name names, of course, but the Council already knows all
about my own sensibilities. It'll be a great first entry in your history file."

Those black eyes grew even sterner as he stared at me, but he didn't waste breath asking if I really would
do something like that. He'd learned to know me well enough to know I wasn't above making sure there
would be a permanent blot on his record if he screwed up the assignment for me. There'd be very little
chance of his getting another assignment afterward, and working as an agent in the Federation seemed to
be important to him. He let out some of the growl he was feeling in a soft sound deep in his throat, then
dropped the subject of leaving.

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The second refreshment area had a lot more seating than the first, and Val sat me down on one of the
couches then gestured over a slave with a tray of glasses. I sipped at the glass of wine I was given,
pretending it was soothing me, in reality being careful not to let it rekindle the flames of rage that were
finally throttling down. Val finished his wine in two swallows and looked around for the slave to get
another, but the slave was busy serving the rest of the guests who were just then entering the area.
Instead of waiting for one of the slaves to get free from the tangle and begin circulating, he headed
toward the knot of arrivals and one of the trays, too impatient to simply wait. I knew my partner wasn't
pleased with me, but we all have burdens to bear in this life.

That refreshment area was even stranger than the first one, though it had the same reddish lighting and
mist curling over the floor. I'd already noticed that it had more seating than the first, but it also had
mirrors on the carved-rock walls and chandeliers hanging from the rough-hewn ceiling, which added
more glitter than light to the room. I sipped at my drink and worked toward calming myself all the way,
at the same time wondering if I ought to tell Val I'd already found Radman and the end of the
assignment shouldn't be too far ahead of us. Under other circumstances I would have already told him,
but I still couldn't trust his reactions. He'd been talking about getting me out of there, but I would have
been insensitive not to know how much he wanted to get himself out as well. If I told him about Radman
I couldn't put it past him to kill the slaver right there, thinking that would end the assignment and let us
leave. He seemed to have the tendency to forget about the Management and what they could do to us if
we were caught, and I couldn't risk a reaction like that. I looked at him where he stood with the other
guests, talking to-of all people!-James and his hulking bodyguard Matthew, and knew I'd made the right
decision. Radman's death warrant was mine to serve, and I'd see that it got served without Val and me
being served up right behind it.

The guests spread out and sat down on the various couches and in the various chairs, talking to one
another like long-lost brothers and sisters, no longer holding themselves aloof from one another. They
were all soul-mates there, they'd learned, and that made all the difference in the world. I finished my
wine and put the glass aside, mainly keeping myself aware of where Radman was in the room, and
suddenly Val and Little were sitting down on the couch with me.

"Are you feeling any better, Jennifer?" Val asked with heavy sweetness to his concern, reaching over to
lift me into his lap. "Poor little thing, you had a rough time."

"I'm feeling a little bit better, uncle Val," I conceded cautiously, wondering what he was up to. "As long
as we don't have to go back to that horrible place. We don't have to go back, do we?"

"Of course you don't have to go back," he assured me heartily and condescendingly, patting me on the
behind as he pressed my head to his chest. "We'll just find something else for you to do while I'm
occupied, something a little more fun. Can you start it, John?"

"Certainly, Val," Little agreed pleasantly, reaching to the buttons set into the arm of the couch to his left.
He pressed one of the buttons, and a tri-v picture sprang into being right in front of us. I noticed then that

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others of the guests were watching something in front of where they were sitting, and remembered the
guide's comment about "lighter pastimes."

"How about that, sweetheart?" Val asked, still rubbing his hand over my backside. "They're teaching that
girl to be a perfect slave, so she'll give all the pleasure there is to the man who uses her. You want to
learn how to give me all the pleasure there is, don't you?"

"Sure I do, uncle Val," I answered, wishing I could curse him out the way he deserved. The girl in the
picture was being made to crawl from man to man, being taught the most abject slavery there was. If Val
gave the word that's what I would be taught, and he wanted me to know it. He was trying to force me
into saying we could leave, and didn't care how dirty he had to play to get what he wanted.

"Or maybe you'd like that, Jennifer," Little put in, gesturing toward the changed picture. "The naked
woman is a guest, and the men chasing her are all true rapists, the sort who don't like giving pleasure to
the woman they have sex with. You can see she's hiding in one of the buildings of that make-believe
town, but hiding isn't enough. She has to get to the other side of the town before she'll be safe, and if
she's caught she'll be raped, then sent back to start all over. It's like an obstacle course filled with fun."

Fun, I thought as the scene changed again, this time showing two men with two small children. The men
were laughing and the children were crying, and Val's hand froze where it was on me.

"Well, that's not very interesting," Little complained, reaching over to fast-forward the action. He paused
long enough to see that the next selection showed two women with whips starting to rape a man, fast-
forwarded that one too, then settled back to watch a scene where a crying woman on her hands and
knees was giving a ride to a big man who liked his own way of doing things. Val was quiet for a couple
of minutes, his-body stiff under mine, his breath almost rasping out of the chest I leaned against, and
then he started all over again, this time trying twice as hard.

By the time the tri-v show was over, I wasn't in very steady shape. Val had slid his hand up the slit of
my dress and had used some of his expertise on me, and with Little watching I hadn't been able to do
anything but react, and in character at that. Little Jenny just couldn't resist her uncle Val, and John Little
got a good laugh over the way he'd made me squirm. When Val pushed me to my feet then stood up
himself, Little straightened off the couch with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to know we're now about to be shown to rooms, Jennifer," he said, watching the
way I was trying to slow my breathing. "We've got about two hours before they serve dinner to our
friendly little group, and I'm sure you'll put the time to good use. And you can also think about which of
those pastimes you'd like to sample."

"I've just about decided to start her with the slave training," Val put in, taking my arm to wrap around
his, also watching me closely. "If you don't like the idea, Jenny, you can try changing my mind, but I
warn you now I'll be awfully hard to convince."



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"Maybe that training would be best," Little allowed thoughtfully as we began drifting toward the door on
the far side of the room with everyone else. "Once she's properly trained you'll be able to enjoy her
anywhere, not just in the privacy of your own quarters. They may start out modest and shy in that
program, but the trainers don't let it last for long. You'll even be able to use her to please your guests."

Val made some sort of interested answer to that, keeping the conversation going, but I'd stopped
listening. My sweet partner knew how I felt about slave training, especially if it was applied to me, but
what he still didn't seem to understand was how I felt about blackmail. He had an objective but so did I,
and my objective was damned well going to come first.

The object of my objective, so to speak, left the refreshment room in our group, and walked with us
down another carved-out corridor. At the end of the corridor the stone wall slid back to reveal an
elevator car, one which easily held the dozen or so people of our part of the group. The car took us
upward quickly and smoothly, finally stopping to let us out on a floor that still looked like it was carved
out of rock. Doors lined both sides of the corridor-hall, and a pretty woman in a silver gown, wearing a
black medallion around her neck, stepped out of a small alcove to smile at us.

"Some of you have already been shown to your rooms on this floor," she said, glancing at Radman and
one or two others. "The rest of you will be shown to them now, and you can do as you like until dinner
is ready. Your entire group has been assigned to this wing, and you'll be eating and relaxing together
until your visit is over. Tomorrow, when you choose the program you'd like to participate in, medallions
will be` issued to you, showing your choice. The medallions are Sisslian silver, and are yours to keep, as
a memento of your visit here. Some of our guests collect the entire set, but let me caution you: complete
sets are worth a good deal more than the value of the silver, so be wary if you're approached with an
offer for your medallion. If you sell it for the price of the silver alone, you're losing money. Now, if
those of you who haven't yet been shown to rooms will please follow me?"

Our group split up again, and Radman gave me a last unreadable glance before heading up the hall. I
made sure not to acknowledge the glance while pretending I wasn't watching him closely, and the Lord
of Luck applauded my performance by giving me just what L needed. Radman stopped at a door a short
way down the hall on the right, knocked once, and was admitted immediately; the female guide was
handing out room assignments in the meantime, and ours turned out to be two doors closer to the
elevator than Radman's but also on the right: As I watched Val unlock our door and step inside, I
thanked the Lord of Luck and promised I wouldn't waste the opening he'd given me. If I couldn't reach
Radman from that close a distance, I didn't deserve to reach him at all.

The room waiting for us was like a room in an old castle, the red lighting and mist-covered floor making
it a haunted castle. Heavy, brocade-covered furniture and a large fireplace made the entrance room a
sitting room, the lights were artificial red flames burning from wall jets, and the mirrors hung about were
dark pools reflecting back nothing they saw. I expected to see cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, but a
glance around as I closed the door showed clean stone walls instead. Val walked across the room to open
the door there, stuck his head in, then pulled it out to look at me.



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"That's a bedroom, Jennifer, and you'd better sound happy to hear it," he told me in the trade language. ":
My friend who has been our traveling companion told me to make you squeal loud and long-and only
then tell you we're being listened to. This whole apartment is bugged, so watch what you say."

"I don't have to watch what I say," I answered the same way, making my tone go pleading. "I only have
to watch what I sound like. Have you been enjoying yourself, you son of a bitch?"

"Not even a little bit," he came back with a chuckle, his tone teasing. "I'm telling you right now that I
can't take it here any longer, and if you don't give the go signal without prejudice by tomorrow morning,
you're going to find yourself enrolled in a slave-training class. If I'll have to be spending my time giving
pain to a bunch of poor, helpless bastards, you're going to be suffering at least as much."

"But that's blackmail, uncle Val, and I thought you knew how I feel about blackmail," I said in a coaxing
way, as he glared at me. "You can push until you're blue in the face instead of red, and I'll still tell you
what to do with yourself. I've got a job to do, and I'm going to do it."

"You can't do the job if one of us breaks and goes on a rampage," he said, trying to sound reasonable
instead of irate and furious. "We'll go back upstairs and wait for our target there. If you can't operate
there, we'll simply follow him to wherever he goes next. You don't have to insist on what neither of us
can live with."

"No," I said, not bothering to mask the finality in my voice. "I'm the assignment leader, and I say we
stick. If you take us off this planet, you do it against my direct orders. I'm not about to let that filth get
the chance to contaminate anyone else, not when I'm this close to him. I have him right in my ...."

"You don't have him anywhere, and you know it," he interrupted, `fighting to sound sleek and lecherous.
"You don't know where he is any more now than you did when we first got here, but you're too stubborn
to admit it. Maybe you need to be reminded how much power I have over you down here." He switched
back to Basic and said, "No, Jennifer, my mind is made up. A little slave training won't hurt you, and
will probably do you a world of good. Come into the bedroom, now. I want to get inside you for a while
before we go to dinner. "

"You miserable, no good, gutter-crawling piece of . . ." I began, really fuming, but he cut me off again.

"But of course they'll all know what I'm doing to you," he laughed, coming closer to snap his arm around
me before I could figure out just exactly what I wanted to do to him and also was able to do in that
gown. "If you don't behave yourself, I'll invite some of them in next time to watch. Come along, now."

He just about dragged me into a bedroom that matched the sitting room, neither one of us about to make
the struggle loud but both of us still struggling, threw me on the bed, then went through some window-
dressing chatter about what he was doing to me. He forced me to the point of having to answer in kind,
and then began making love to me, trying his usual tricks to get me to respond. Verbally I gave him
everything he was looking for, every ooh and ahh and moan and groan, but through it all I kept every

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trace of expression off my face and simply stared at him, telling him to go ahead and rape me and be
damned. He tried to go through with it, he really did, but in the end all he did was make the same noises
I was making but the male variety, bouncing on the bed next to me and staring down. Anyone listening
would have thought we were having a ball, but as balls went, that one was on the grim side.

When the sound show was over, Val turned away from me and simply lay down. We'd said everything
there was to say, and at that point my telling him how close Radman was would either be totally
disbelieved or believed so eagerly that he would go after him alone in the way I'd thought about earlier.
Whatever was done would have to be done by me, but that was the way it was supposed to be anyway.
I'd wanted to keep Val out of it; he was making sure I did exactly that.

After waiting for a few minutes for the benefit of the ears listening, I left the bed and went into the only
bathroom the apartment had. I didn't have to be told that the apartment was a single, assigned to Val
with me thrown in as an unimportant extra occupant. Double accommodations had two bathrooms, but I
wasn't being considered a guest in my own right, not in anything that counted. I got out of my gown and
shoes and earrings without letting my annoyance show, then stepped into the shower. If Val thought he
was sick of that place, he should have tried it from my point of view.

Showering and drying didn't take long, so it was still too early to get dressed again. I thought about
going back out to the bedroom until it was time to join our jolly group for the meal, then rejected the
idea. I didn't want Val thinking I had changed my mind, and I didn't want to give him the chance to
change it for me. The bathroom floor was nicely carpeted with no mist, so there was nothing to keep me
from spending my time there. I sat down and then stretched out, trying to forget about everything.

When an hour had passed on the clock I dressed again, brushed my hair, then made my silent way out of
the bathroom. I didn't want our listeners to know how long I'd been in there, and with Val supposedly
asleep I had the perfect excuse for tiptoeing. Val's eyes followed me as I crossed the room toward the
sitting room, but he stayed where he was, continuing to pretend to be asleep. It looked like he hadn't
been able to really rest any more than I had, but as long as he didn't start in on me again it didn't much
matter.

I sat in the sitting room for about fifteen minutes, and just as Val came out of the bedroom, a knock
sounded on the door. He crossed the room to open it, and found that we were being called to dinner. I
began to think that my time was improving, but when we followed the woman to a large private dining
room on the other side of the elevator, I began thinking the Lord of Luck was at it again. Place cards
were arranged on the long formal table in the center of the haunted-castle-like room, first names only, if
you please, and the card directly to my right showed the name Richard. I sat down at the table with Val
to my left, excitement rising in me despite the fact that Richard is a very common name and I hadn't
been introduced to everyone in our group. If that was Radman who had been seated next to me, I had it
made.

I waited until almost all the guests had arrived, until James came in and sat on the opposite side of the
other end of the table, until the woman in silver and the bearded man in black took their places at the

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two ends of the table. I'd been waiting for Radman to come in and sit down, but that turned out not to be
necessary. When he came in he stopped to talk to James, but by then I didn't care what he did. He was
the only one not sitting down, and the only place left open was the one to my right. He must have seen to
that arrangement, I realized, an unsitting spider throwing the door wide in welcome to the spider-eater
disguised as a fly.

Acting as though I didn't even see Radman, I put my hands under the edge of the red tablecloth, gently
scraped off a tiny piece of the colorless coating from my left ring fingernail, and took it between my
thumb and forefinger. A few seconds of casual checking brought the assurance that no one was
specifically looking my way, so I took the opportunity and reached past Radman's wine glass for a
warmed soft roll. Opening my fingers over the glass got rid of the sliver of specially made chemical
before I touched the roll, and when I brought my hand back the first step was done. Each of my
fingernails is coated with a different colorless, traceless chemical, in most instances a poison, and the
one I'd chosen for Radman would give him about two hours or so to enjoy his meal before it turned him
completely out of focus. He'd be feeling sick enough to go to bed, and if things worked out tight I'd be
right behind him. I could have fed him something lethal just as easily, of course, but that wasn't the way
death warrants were served. Death by poisoning can be caused by anyone or anything, even an accident,
and doesn't tend to be as impressive as death by execution. The Council wanted whoever stepped into
Radman's shoes to know that the same thing could happen to him if he got too far out of line, and the
Council's way was how I had to play it.

Radman finally came over and took his seat, gave me what he must have considered a friendly smile,
and began asking me small-talk questions about how my time in the Sphere had gone so far. I gave him
unenthusiastic answers with down-in-the-mouth overtones, trying to get him to pick another victim for
his conversation, but he was getting too much of a kick looking at the one he'd already picked. I
wouldn't have liked the man even if I'd known nothing about him, and then he really added the icing. He
took the opportunity of a slave coming over to pour wine in his glass to lean close to me, then sent his
bad breath right in my face.

"Don't you worry about that class you'll be starting tomorrow, little girl," he reassured me in low tones,
his hand moving under the tablecloth to touch my gown above my thighs. "I've already arranged to be
there as one of the men you'll learn to please, and I really do intend to be pleased. When we sit down at
this table again tomorrow night, you'll know what it's like to be screwed by a real man."

He chuckled as he gave me a final pat, then leaned away again to reach for his wine, leaving me to fight
hard to keep from shuddering in disgust. I already knew what it was like to be invaded by that particular
"man," and if I'd had to do it again I would have gotten sick or crazy. I watched him swallow down half
his wine without even tasting it, a pig of a man .with fewer manners even than an animal, walking
garbage that thought it had me marked, bought and paid for. The only thing it didn't have neatly
arranged was the drug in its drink, and the fact that the hunter had now become the hunted.

"Jennifer, sweetheart, are you all right?" Val's voice came suddenly from my left, his arm circling my
shoulders a minute later. "You're trembling and pale-looking again just the way you were a few hours

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ago. Don't you feel well, little girl?

"Not really, uncle Val," I answered in a small voice, indulging in the urge to lean closer to him and put
my head against him. "I don't know what it is, but I really don't feel good. "

"You probably just need some hot food in you," he murmured, tightening his arm around me and gently
brushing aside some of my hair with his free hand. "We'll try it and see how it does. "

I nodded obediently and just kept leaning on him, knowing he was seriously concerned but finding the
out he'd given me too good to pass up. Not feeling well was a great reason for my going back to our
room early, and once I was gone no one would wonder where I was. I rubbed my cheek against his shirt,
glad I could do it in character, finally admitting I was glad about another thing. As soon as Val had
started speaking to me, Radman had turned away to the woman on his right and had begun a
conversation with her. As long as Val had his arm around me Radman's hands would be off, and that
made up for a whole hell of a lot of the nonsense I'd gone through with my new partner. I remembered
again the various times he hadn't taken advantage of me when he could have, a couple of hours earlier
being the latest addition, and grudged the admission that it occasionally felt good to have him there.

When the dinner finally got rolling it was a lavish affair, with course after course of food and bottle after
bottle of wine, all of it generous helpings, all of it indisputably the best it could possibly be. I continued
to pretend I wasn't feeling-well, but still managed to swallow enough food to keep me going for a while,
at the same time staying away from anything stronger than water, as I intended to be working later and
didn't want the edge taken off my reflexes.

Having Radman next to me put a strain on my appetite, but it did turn out to be handy; when the light
sheen of sweat started covering his face and he began to tug unconsciously at his collar, I knew it was
time for me to leave. The drug I'd fed him would soon begin to affect him more strongly, and I wanted to
be innocently gone by then. I told Val I still wasn't feeling well and wanted to go back to our room and
go to bed, and was surprisingly saved from having him insist on going with me by John Little, who sat
to Val's left. He dismissed my supposed illness by telling Val it was just a reaction to the tour we'd taken
that afternoon, then told him there was something special he wanted to show him in just a few minutes.
Val looked at me and hesitated, then must have realized that if I'd really needed him, I would have said
so in the trade language. He told me to go and get some rest, patted my cheek, and had turned back to
Little even before I had pushed away from the table.

I walked the supposed stone corridor back to our room with the key Val had given me in my hand,
thinking about Radman and idly wondering why Little hadn't introduced Val to him yet. Radman hadn't
once so much as looked in their direction all evening, and that made me curious. Was the cold shoulder
Little's idea or Radman's? Had the game Little's been playing changed, or was it deeper than we'd first
supposed? If I managed to get Radman that night it would turn out not to matter, so I didn't spend much
thinking time on the question; by the next day Val and I would hopefully be on our way back to the
Station, and the slavers' plans turned to no more than dust on a chalkboard.



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I reached our door, opened it and slipped inside, then stood thinking for a minute, annoyed by something
I'd just seen.

The corridor outside was empty, but that little alcove near the elevator the woman in silver had come out
of was occupied by three slaves, probably waiting to take care of the wants and needs of the guests. The
room I stood in wasn't far from that alcove, and if I stepped back out into the hall for any

reason, like going to Radman's room, for instance, they'd see me without any trouble. That was a
problem I hadn't foreseen and didn't appreciate, but there was something else to take care of before I
spent any real time thinking about it.

I moved without worrying about sound and entered the bedroom, then went to my luggage. Pulling out a
hair-fine ear was the work of a minute, along with a shorts outfit and canvas deck shoes. I left the
clothes and shoes on the bed, took the ear, then went back to the door to the apartment and opened it. I'd
purposefully forgotten to set the "do not disturb" sign when I'd first come in, needing that minute to get
the ear, and that's where I set the ear, right below the sign. With the thin, tiny bug in place, I'd know for
sure when Radman came back to his apartment.

Back in the bedroom again, I changed out of the silver gown and sling-backs into the clothes I'd
prepared, got a button receiver from my luggage, then decided to be optimistic. Among the jewelry I'd
brought was a very special ring, a large, well-set and expensive-looking ring, but it was more than just
expensive. I slipped it on my finger, put the button receiver in my ear, then went to lie down on the bed.

Through the receiver in my ear, I could hear the low-voiced chatter among the slaves, no words, sound
only, but it helped to off-set the feel of that bedroom while I waited. The bed I lay on was a big four-
poster, but it wasn't curtained the way it might be. The walls of the room were false stone, with a double-
window breaking one of them with an exit to a balcony outside. The lighting was still red and the mist
still covered the floor, and the room temperature was still- up there, and I really did feel as though I
waited in a room in hell. What I planned to do that night was a fitting occupation for hell, and that
thought seemed to add to the faint depression I was feeling. Also, typically, the depression didn't come
from the thought of doing the job, but from the thought of the possibility of not being able to do it. If I
couldn't pull it off I'd be running into Radman tomorrow in a way that really would be hell.

About half an hour passed, during which time I smoked some of the cigarettes in my luggage, and then I
began getting something other than slave-chatter from the receiver.

Two sets of footsteps came down the hall, and one set sounded shaky.

"I hope you'll be feeling better soon, Richard," an unfamiliar female voice said. "Are you sure I can't get
a doctor for you?"

"No," Radman's voice came. "If I need one, I'll call him myself. Just don't bother me now."



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I listened to the footsteps, and they went the necessary two-door distance down the corridor. Nothing
else was said, a knock came then the sound of a door opening and closing, and then a single set of
footsteps went back the way it had come. I lay back again and gave it another half hour.

When the second half hour was over I took the button receiver out of my ear, then got up without
making any sound. The receiver went back in my luggage and I went to the balcony door, also managing
to open it without sound. Outside the dark was complete, but the red mist floating all around gave off
alight of its own, a light that let me see that I was at least twenty stories up, but just beyond the balcony I
stood on was a ledge leading in the direction I needed to go in. It wasn't a very wide ledge, but it was
considerably better than no ledge at all, and would have to do; the slaves were still in the alcove and still
had no one to distract them.

One leg at a time, I climbed out onto the ledge beside the window, feeling my hair being ruffled by the
cool breeze coming by in gentle gusts, allowing my mind knowledge of no more than the ledge I stood
on, the building I leaned against. I felt very mortal out on that ledge, but if I were going to reach
Radman that ledge was the only way of doing it. In the dark and red-tinged mist I began moving slowly
along .the narrow walkway, away from my own balcony, getting closer to the job's end with every step I
took.

I'd expected to get a break with the room between Radman's and mine, but that room had no balcony,
and the window was lit, showing someone in there with his back to the window. I got past it as quickly
as I could, then went on to the balcony in front of Radman's window, climbed the railing, and carefully
looked inside. Radman was lying flat on the bed, and by the faint glow of one of the fake wall flames, he
looked asleep. It wasn't logical for a balcony door twenty stories up to be locked, and it wasn't. I opened
it with no sound at all, then stepped inside.

I stopped next to Radman where he lay on the bed and listened to his even breathing for a minute, then
slipped the very special ring from my finger and gently placed the stone against his skin. The stone
glowed green the way I had expected it to, but I'd still been required to check. I put the ring back on and
stared down at the face of the man who had done so much to me, knowing I ought to simply finish him
and then leave, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't just let him die peacefully without knowing what was
happening, not even if it meant getting caught there. My whole body wanted to tremble at the sight of
him, and I honestly didn't know if it was fear or rage behind the desire. I remembered the feel of his
sweaty hand on my helpless flesh just before the appraisal, remembered even more strongly the way he'd
forced himself into me before sealing me into a ship that had been meant to rid him of me forever, and
there was no way to stop myself. I had to make him know, and then I had to make him dead.

I climbed onto the bed with him, one knee to each side of his body, straddling him as I leaned down
closer to his face. His rate of breathing changed, showing that he was waking, and that was just what I
wanted. I waited until his eyelids flickered, an attempt to bring me into focus, and then f put my hands to
his face.

"I'm here, Radman," I whispered, watching as his eyes went startled with recognition. "You do

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remember inviting me, don't you?"

He stirred between my thighs and began to say something, his hands going automatically to my body,
but I had no interest in whatever he wanted to say.

"Let me help you remember the invitation," I whispered, still touching his face gently with both hands.
"There was you, and me, and some of your men, and a ship that had had some work done on its controls.
You told me to look you up when I got back from my trip, and you laughed. This time we can laugh
together. "

My caressing hands moved immediately to his throat then, and neither one of us was laughing. Radman's
eyes had widened in horror and he'd parted his lips to shout or scream, but my thumbs were already
pressing into his throat with the weight of my body behind them, and no more than a rasping gurgle
escaped him. He tried to fight me then, hands clawing. at mine and groping for my eyes, his body
bucking, but that didn't last more than seconds. I had a lot of years of experience and learning to call on,
and causing unconsciousness isn't very hard.

It has never failed to impress me how easy it is to kill someone. Five minutes after I had first touched
Radman he was dead, and I took my hands away from his body and stood up to stare down at him again.
That piece of meat lying on the bed had deserved death many times over for the things he had done, but
in spite of everything it hadn't given me any pleasure to end him. I was glad the job was finally done,
ecstatic that he'd never again be in a condition even to think about touching me, grimly satisfied that he'd
never again be able to victimize helpless children; pleasure, though, never entered into it. It was hard
understanding how some people did feel pleasure after killing, that or enjoyment or euphoria. After
killing with my hands I always noticed how easy it was, and thought briefly about the possibility of
committing that easiness against an innocent by-stander, someone who didn't deserve to be ended.
Although I watched myself carefully that possibility was always there, the possibility that one day I
would slip and not perform an execution but commit murder. I didn't know what I would do if that ever
happened, but I never let myself dwell on the question. I just shuddered briefly as I pushed it away, then
went on with the job.

I shuddered briefly as I looked down at the former slaver, then got on with the job. Taking off the bio-
ring a second time, I opened the band, then pressed the point of the stone into the ball of Radman's
middle right finger. The gem came away with a drop of his blood which it quickly absorbed, and when
the blood was absorbed, I closed the band and put it back on for the last time. There hadn't been a sound
from the sitting room since I'd first come in, and I exited back onto the balcony with as little noise and
fuss as there'd been in arriving.

Once I was on the ledge and inching back to my own balcony, the easy time I'd had so far began
balancing out. The man in the room between Radman's and mine turned out to be a thinker; I got a
glimpse of him sitting in a chair and staring out the window before I pulled back, and knew damned well
that if I went by straight up, there was no way he could miss me. Mouthing some uncomplimentary
things about him, I slowly got down on my knees. In that position the ledge got even narrower, and my

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legs poked out over dark, empty air. I brought one hand down on the ledge in front of me, leaving the
other hand to hang onto the carved stone of the wall, and very slowly, one hand then the other, one knee
then the other, I edged past below the window. I kept having to lean in against the wall to keep myself
from going off that ledge to; the unseen ground, lots of stories below, and when I finally . cleared the
window I almost didn't have the nerve to stand up again. I took a couple of deep breaths and forced my
hands to get a hold above me on the wall, then gingerly pulled myself to my feet. When my heartbeat
slowed down I started moving again, and made it back to my own balcony without any more trouble.

Stepping silently back inside the room was the last thing that had to be done, and once it was
accomplished I felt as though some giant weight had been lifted off of me. I went back to my trunk and
took off and put away the shorts outfit and canvas shoes, then checked the button receiver to see if there
was any indication of the party breaking up. I wanted Val to know the job was over and we could finally
get out of there, butyl couldn't very well go looking for him. If my "illness" suddenly disappeared and
someone thought to check the timing with Radman's death, he and I could find ourselves facing a lot
longer stay. I listened for sounds out in the corridor, didn't hear any, then noticed that I wasn't hearing
the slaves, either. At least two of them were gone from the alcove, maybe all three, and that ought to
have meant the dinner was officially over. As soon as he was through looking at whatever Little had
wanted to show him, Val would be back in the apartment.

I put the receiver away again and turned from my luggage to stretch, thinking about taking another
cigarette before going to bed. After we were back on the Station I was going to have to have a nice long
talk with Val, and maybe one with Ringer as well. Things had happened during that assignment that I
didn't rare for, and we'd have to-

The thought broke off as a sound at the door to the sitting room caught my attention, but when it
suddenly opened it wasn't Val coming through. Shockingly it was Matthew who was there, James's big,
ugly bodyguard, and in his hand he held a slim, blinking rod. I recognized the rod as a pick-up deadener,
a device that kept sound from reaching listening devices, and then Matthew pressed it to the wall by the
doorway and started toward me fast. I didn't know what was going on, but that didn't stop me from
leaning back and kicking him where it hurts the most, something he wasn't expecting. He grunted with
the pain and went down to one knee partially bent over, and although I moved in fast through the
surrealistic red light and mist to finish him off, I never got the chance. As soon as I was in reach he
ducked lower and moved with totally unexpected speed to. grab my legs and pull, which sent me over
backward to hit my head hard on the floor. The blow dazed me for a second, and even though I tried to
roll out of reach even before my head cleared, it was simply no good. A hamlike fist connected with the
side of my skull, and that was definitely that.



CHAPTER 14

I woke up feeling as if my arms were being pulled out of their sockets. When I was finally able to
understand which way was down I got my feet more firmly under me and did what might be described

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as standing, but only if you define terms rather loosely. I was dizzy and my head hurt, and I couldn't
remember how I'd gotten to wherever I was, but I had the feeling I shouldn't be happy about being there.
I pried my eyes farther open and tried to look around, but circumstances beyond my control kept that
from being easily done. My arms had felt stretched because I was hanging from them, tied by the wrists
to something wooden and high.

At that point I knew I had to make more of an effort than I'd made so far, and that pretty damned quick. I
firmed up my legs under me and stood as straight as I could just then, and twisted a little to get as good a
look around as possible. As far as I could see I was in a stone-walled bedroom, red-lit and mist-carpeted,
and was tied to the left front post of a four-poster bed. The room looked familiar and yet not familiar, a
room that was both mine and not mine. I shook my head gently, trying to think the headache into easing
up, but to no avail.

I'd seen all I could of the room, so I gave some attention to what was holding me in place. When I
looked up I was happy to see that my bio-ring was still on my finger, but was not as happy to see that
my wrists were tied to the post at a height above the top of my head by what looked like ordinary rope.
With a silent apology to my arms I tried the strength of the stuff, but it wasn't worth the effort. Ordinary
rope would have given a little, but that stuff didn't budge. All it did was hang onto the carved post and
cut into my skin with its fibers, the pain of it adding to the strain in my arms and shoulders. I dislike
pain, and tend to fall into a foul mood when it is inflicted, I glared at the rope and pronounced an
unladylike word.

"Quite right, my dear," said a voice from behind me. "You cannot get loose."

I froze where I stood, remembering that cold, emotionless voice, and then I remembered what had
happened before everything turned blurry. Matthew had come into our apartment and had come at me,
and I hadn't been able to put him down all the way. After the kick I'd given him I wondered what he was
made of, but only briefly and in passing. What I was a lot more concerned about was the presence of
James in the room, now clearly his room, his nearness bringing a chill to my flesh despite the ever-
present warmth. I didn't know what I was in the middle of, but I did know I wanted out of it as soon as
possible.

"These ropes are hurting my wrists, James," I complained in a young-girl voice, hoping I could sucker
him into turning me loose. "Can't you take them off?"

"Not quite yet, child," he answered, with slight amusement. "You aren't ready yet."

"I don't understand," I said, and my little-girl voice turned shaky all by itself.

"It's quite simple," he said, coming around to the left of the post where I could see him. He still wore the
blacks he'd had on earlier, and he still carried that thin cane he leaned on so slightly. "Matthew wasn't
feeling very well when he brought you here, and he told me what had happened when he tried to fetch
you. There aren't many men around who can best Matthew in a fight, yet he had to wait fifteen minutes

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before he was recovered sufficiently to complete his chore. Happily, the floor slaves remained occupied
elsewhere." He shook his head slightly and tsked, but kept those hell-cold eyes directly on me. "That
was very naughty of you, but it did show me what was necessary for your safekeeping."

"You can't get away with this," I began, feeling like a stale melodrama. "Guests aren't allowed to harm
other guests, and uncle Val will . . ."

"Do nothing," he finished flatly, those eyes turning darker and colder in response to my throat. "Radman
assured me that he could deliver you after you left here and that fool of a Little would take care of your
uncle, but I make my own judgments as to the feasibility of a situation. I spoke to your uncle and offered
him more than most men earn in a lifetime for you, and he refused me. That tells me Radman would
have no better luck, and would need to have you abducted before I might have you. I dislike waiting for
what I want, and I have my ship here. By tomorrow afternoon we will be on our way back to my estate,
and the mystery of what happened to you can be explained by the Management."

He took a step closer to me, but the bedpost was between us. He really wasn't taking any chances.

"I would love to begin with you now, but in the interests of my own safety, I must wait awhile," he said,
his death cold eyes glittering at me. "Have a pleasant night, and let the thought amuse you that I'll be
with you again in the morning."

He walked out of my area of vision, leaning on his thin cane, and a minute later I heard the door close
somewhere behind me. I took all of my weight on my wrists and gave the post I was tied to a two-footed
kick that would have felled one of Dameron's vairs, but the damned thing hardly quivered. I hadn't really
believed it was wood just because it looked like it, but I'd had to try something. The jolly thought of
what was waiting for me in the morning was enough to chill my blood.

I turned to look at the window, and it was still deep night outside. I didn't know how long I'd have to
wait, but the wait wouldn't be short. Naturally I didn't waste my breath trying to yell; those apartments
were soundproofed, and if the ears in the room were still in operating condition, James would never have
spoken to me as he had. At least I now knew for sure why Radman had joined our group. He had clearly
decided to peddle merchandise to a private buyer in the Sphere itself, most likely from Little's first
reports to him and from his personal visit to the physical exam area. No wonder Little had been so afraid
and had tried so hard to talk Val into selling me to the Sphere itself-if the Management had caught them
trying to go private on even a semi-official guest like me, not even Radman's special status would have
saved them. I forced myself to relax to wait it out. They had to untie me sometime to get me to their
ship, and any slip of their part would be the last slip they made. My good luck had suddenly changed to
bad, but there was no benefit in crying over it.

By the time it was full light out I was in agony. The night had stretched out impossibly long, and my
arms and legs were tortured from the position I was tied in. After a couple of hours of standing and
shifting from foot to foot I'd tried hanging from my wrists to give my legs a rest, but it hadn't worked too
well. My arms were strained to begin with and couldn't take the weight very long, so I'd had to stand up

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again. After I don't know how many hours of waiting my legs were like two giant blisters, and my arms
were numb. At least they were numb until I tried leaning on them, and then they burned as if they were
being boiled in oil. I was in such a bad way, I was almost looking forward to James's coming back. I
knew I couldn't take much more of just standing there.

Despite what I'd decided I could and couldn't take, another couple of hours passed before I heard
someone at the door. I had almost passed out a few times, but hadn't been lucky enough to make it; a
high pain threshold isn't always a blessing. Someone came in and closed the door behind them, and
when I heard a lock click the adrenalin started pouring through my system. I managed to stand almost
straight, but couldn't turn my head.

"Have you been waiting for me, my dear?" James's voice came, slowly getting nearer. "I'm sorry it's
been so long, but it was all for the best. Anticipation often heightens the pleasure of an undertaking, you
know. You should be ready, and I'm anxious to get started."

He came up behind me, grabbed a fistful of hair, and forced my head back. The strain it put on my arms
made me gasp, and that produced a chuckle in him.

"Just about done to a turn, I think," he said while I shuddered. "We can begin any time now."

I didn't know what he was about to begin, and I didn't want to know. In desperation I lifted one of my
leaden legs and kicked backward, trying to break his kneecap, but I just didn't have it in me. He grunted
with the small amount of pain I'd managed to give him and stepped back, letting go of my hair.

"You will be my prize, I think, after you have been with me a while," he said, chilled and chilling delight
in his voice. "Right now, you must learn what attempting to do me harm brings. "

He took another step away from me, hesitating very briefly, then suddenly my back was on fire from the
stroke of something he'd hit me with, something that opened my skin the way a fingernail would open
cellophane. My mind went instantly terrified with the memory of that time with the whip and those
terrorists and I screamed and tried to pull away, but my wrists were tied with razor-sharp rope and my
arms and legs were useless. He hit me again and then again, and each time I could feel the cut going
deep and I couldn't control my screaming.

"Sing to me, my pretty bird!" he gloated as he panted and laughed. "This cane will teach you the song I
love best to hear! You'll sing for me many times, but the first song is always the best!"

He kept on beating me until my entire body blazed with agony, his laughter filled with such absolute
delight that I wanted to curl up with my hands over my ears. I screamed until my throat closed up, and
then I just hung there whimpering. He was gasping with his effort when he stopped just as suddenly as
he'd started, something unexpected pulling his attention away from his delightful time. His footsteps
went to the door, and through my own harsh breathing I heard what sounded like a small panel being
slid aside.

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"What is it, Matthew?" James panted, thick annoyance coloring his tone. "I'm busy now."

"Something has happened," Matthew's rumble came. "I think you should know about it. Radman's been
found dead. "

James, made a noise of surprise, reclosed the panel, and I heard the lock click.

"How did that happen?" he asked as he opened the door.

There was no answer, just the sound of a scuffle, and one single blow. Something heavy fell to the floor,
and a heartbeat later Matthew was next to me with a knife in his hand.

"Hang on," he said, looking up at the pseudo-rope. "I'll have you out of that in a minute." His voice
sounded strange and his eyes and fingers avoided the blood running from my wrists, and I finally woke
up to what was happening.

"Val," I said, but it came out a whisper. "What are you doing here like that?"

"Matthew" didn't answer, he just went at that rope with the knife. I knew it was a good knife because it
was one of mine, but it took at least several minutes before the last strand parted, and when it did my
legs collapsed under me as if they weren't there. Val grabbed for me and caught me, but the pain was
almost too much. He lowered me as gently as possible until I was sitting on the floor in the mist, then
leaned me sideways against the bed.

"Do you think you can hold out until we get to the shuttle port?" Matthew's voice asked, his eyes as hard
as eyes ever got. "We're getting out of here now."

"No!" I whispered, trying to grab for him and causing myself more pain, pure panic flooding me at the
thought of what he wanted to do and my own helplessness to keep him from it. "Go back to yourself and
call the Management. Please, Val! We'll never make it any other way!"

He seemed both outraged and frustrated, and for a minute I was sure he would ignore me again, but the
strengthless death-grip I had on his shirt must have made an impression on him. Suddenly his features
blurred, and he was back to looking like his own self.

"You'd better know what you're doing," he growled in his own voice, putting a gentle, faintly trembling
hand to my sweat-soaked forehead. "If you think I'll give any of that filth a chance at you again, you're
crazy."

He straightened up from the crouch he'd been in and went toward the sitting room, and when he passed
through the doorway I noticed James. He was lying on the floor in a heap, his bloody cane half buried
under him, his head tilted at an odd angle. I stared at him through the burning pain washing over me,

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shuddered in a way that increased that pain, then looked away.

I must have passed out for a few minutes; the next thing I heard was the voice of our ex-guide, sounding
put out. ". . . never allow something like that to happen here," he said. "We have very strict rules."

"You'll see in a minute how much good your rules are." Val's voice sounded hard and uncompromising.
They came through the doorway and the bearded man glanced at James's body, then came over to me.
He blinked at the condition of my wrists, but when he leaned over to look at my back he was abruptly
more silent than quiet. His face came into view again when he straightened, and the vexation of
unnecessary trouble was in his eyes-right next to the anger of vengeance anticipated.

"It won't be much longer," he told me seeming distracted, absently patting my arm. "The doctor is on his
way." He came back to attention and turned to the sitting room as someone came in from the hall, then
called, "This way, doctor."

A man came in carrying the sort of bag doctors have carried for centuries. He came straight toward me
and followed the half-annoyed gesture of the bearded man, directing him to my back, abruptly reaching
for his bag when he saw it. I tried to catch Val's eye, but he was staring at James's body with no
expression on his face. I wanted to tell him not to let them put me out, but I didn't have the strength to
get the words out, and it probably wouldn't have done any good anyway. The doctor's hypo hissed, and
then the room with everyone in it melted away.



CHAPTER 15

Waking up the next time was a good deal more comfortable. Granted, I was flat on my face in a bed that
had straps pulled tight across my hips, but my torn-up wrists were bandaged and I could hear those
special non-sounds that mean the unnatural quiet of a hospital. I pushed myself slowly up on my elbows,
trying to figure out if I was still on Xanadu, and two strong hands took my arms and forced me flat again.

"You shouldn't have come out of that yet," a brisk female voice said from behind me. "Don't move
around or you'll mess up the surroskin. It hasn't had time to bind yet. "

"Where the hell am I?" I demanded, trying to see who I was talking to, too well aware of the heavy, logy
feeling that meant pain killers. If I was still in the Pleasure Sphere, I'd do more than move around a little.

"You're in the hospital section of Xanadu O.S., if you must know," the female voice answered. "But you
have time to worry about it later."

I craned around in time to see a hand with a pressure hypo, but not in time to do anything about it. The
hypo hissed, and I went back to dreamland.



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When I finally regained consciousness, the restraints were gone and I was on my back. I was all alone in
the room, so I struggled to a sitting position slowly enough to keep the tearing sensation in my back
down to a minimum. Thanks to the pain killers, movement wasn't impossible, but until surroskin binds
itself to you at every point, it makes you feel as though you're about to rip open. I knew from experience
that it would be a good week before I was free of the sensation.

The room was about twelve by fifteen, large for a private hospital room anywhere but on a Station like
Xanadu. The high bed I sat in stood off the wall at my back, and a squared, narrow, drawered table was
just to the right of it. The room's door was farther down in the wall to my right, and the wall to my left
had a vu-cast window like the ones in the Station's suites. The view it showed was of a snow-covered
woods, white and silent in an early morning beginning, a sun just starting to rise high enough to shed
some warmth. The reality of the scene was excellent, caught at just the proper angle to make you think it
was really there, and the subject itself was geared to show you that bed was the best place to be just then.
I ran my fingers through the tangle of my hair, then moved my gaze to the cozy table and chairs
arrangement standing against the far wall. If I'd thought my legs could hold me I would have been in one
of those chairs, but between the beating I'd taken and the subsequent work to repair the damage, I was in
no shape to be walking around. I could almost feel the various levels of pain hovering just beyond the
protective wrapping of pain killer, waiting to set me afire as soon as the wrapping faded. I tugged at the
neck of the hospital gown they'd put me in, trying to loosen it as far as possible, trying to figure out what
day it was. Stupid hospital gowns in stupid hospitals, where you had to launch a major campaign just to
find out the standard date. I hated hospitals, hated the reason for them-and refused to-let myself think
about the waiting pain.

No more than a minute later, the door to the hall opened and a nurse came in carrying a tray of bandages
and oddments. She was a tall woman, as solid as a nurse sometimes has to be, but still having a pleasant,
obviously female figure. She had brown hair and mild brown eyes, but her eyes lost their mildness when
she saw me studying her. She put the tray she'd been carrying onto a rolling table standing near the door,
then approached the side of my bed.

"You do have a fast snapback, don't you." She frowned, looking annoyed. "You shouldn't have come out
of that sedative for at least another half hour. And what are you doing sitting up? Are you trying to ruin
the work that's been done on you?"

I recognized her voice as the one I'd heard the first time I'd opened my eyes, and her automatic
assumption of command aroused my temper. I was really in the mood to take some of my aggression out
on her, but instead of sounding off and thereby putting my foot in it, I fell back on my well-known
acting abilities and started the tears going from my eyes.

"What is this place?" I sniffed as if I didn't remember waking up earlier. "And why are you yelling at
me? What have I done?"

Even the gruffest of nurses are mostly good-hearted, and that one was no different from any other. She
melted as if I'd poured hot water on her, and came closer to put her arm around my shoulders.

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"There, there, Red, don't cry," she soothed, patting my hair and cheek. "You haven't done anything at all.
You're safe in the hospital on Xanadu Station, and no one will hurt you again. I didn't mean to yell at
you, it's just that your uncle has been driving me crazy since they brought you in. What in the world
happened to you down there?"

It took everything I had to keep from straightening in shock, because I'd actually forgotten about Val! I
didn't know what had happened after that doctor had knocked me out, but obviously Val had managed to
get us back to the Station. And it looked like he was worrying about me again. Considering the fact that
I knew what would happen all. too shortly, it would obviously be best to distract him with other
considerations.

"Uncle Val arranged for us to go down to the Pleasure Sphere," I sniffed, looking into the nurse's
sympathetic face. "He said I'd have a great time learning about life, but then he let all these other people
touch me and do things to me, and then he gave me to this-this-person who said he wanted to take care
of me, and then-and then-" The shuddering I did at the memory of James wasn't any part of the
playacting; it would take me some time to forget him.

"You poor child!" she breathed, looking shocked. "Don't you worry about another thing! I'll take care of
you while you're here, and you'll be fine." Then she straightened up again. "I'll be right back. I have a
few words to say to your uncle, and then we'll change those bandages on your wrists."

She stalked out with a grim look on her face, and I waited until the door had closed behind her before
letting myself grin faintly. Once Val heard what the nurse had to say, he'd know I was back to being my
old, lovable self and would also know that he could relax. Sitting up was getting harder and harder to
maintain, so I lowered myself back down on the bed just as some sort of disturbance began outside the
door. I could hear the nurse's voice shouting, but Val's voice rose above hers.

"I said I'm going in there!" he roared. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way!"

The door flew open and Val and the nurse came through together, she trying to stay in front of him, he
trying to get past her without actually knocking her down. I hadn't expected something like that, and I
watched with interest, wondering who would win.

"You've done enough to that poor girl!" the nurse snapped, staying between Val and me. "If I had my
way . . ."

"I am her legal guardian and I demand to see her alone for a few minutes!" Val thundered down at her.
"If you find that request impossible, I'll have her discharged and moved elsewhere, but I refuse to be put
off any longer!"

The nurse hesitated, then turned reluctantly to look at me.



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"I'm sorry, Red, but he does have the legal right to see you," she said, as apology, then turned back to
Val and finished talking to me while staring at him. "Hut I'll be right outside the door! If you need me
for anything, just call!"

I thanked her quietly, admiring her nerve, and she marched out, walking stiff and straight. When the
door had closed behind her, Val took his eyes away from it and came to stand over me. As high as the
hospital bed was he stood even higher, and the look in his eyes was anything but friendly.

"Hi, Val," I greeted him, staring up at the looming mountain above me. "How are things?"

He leaned his left arm on the railing of my bed, then bent forward to put his right palm to the left of my
head, flat on the bed next to me.

"Things are just lovely," he answered in a too-gentle voice, those black eyes directly on me. "I've been
out there for two days worrying myself sick over you, and the next thing I know some nurse is accusing
me of everything but strangling you! What the hell are you up to now?"

"Well, I had to tell her something," I muttered, squirming uncomfortably at the way he was looking at
me. "It's not my fault if the facts-sort of-point to you."

"You and facts!" he snapped, still leaning over me. "That combination just isn't possible! Just wait until
you're out of that bed! When I get through with you, you'll never pull another gag on anyone as long as
you live!"

"Now, Val, don't start anything foolish," I warned, not liking the hardness in his voice. "I wouldn't want
to have to hurt you."

"Don't worry," he said, standing straight again but still sending that dark-eyed look toward me. "You
won't. Ringer will be getting here tomorrow, and I'll be back to see you then. Right now I'm going to see
if I can't find some fun around here. Rest up real well, I'm looking forward to seeing you on your feet
again."

He reached for the door and disappeared through it, and seconds later that same nurse reappeared, to
reclaim the tray she'd brought earlier and carry it over to me.

"Don't worry, Red, this won't hurt at all," she confided the way nurses do. "One, two, three, and I'll be all
finished." She smiled a reassuring smile and got to work, cutting off the old bandages with a scissors and
seeing to the medium-raw mess my wrists had been turned into. Nothing she did caused any pain, but
that stemmed from the same reason I felt nothing in my back. I probably could have given her the
generic name for the pain killer in me, but that wasn't the route I had chosen to travel. Ringer disliked
letting the general public know where his agents were and what they were up to, and possible bad
publicity aside, I couldn't help agreeing with him. Not too many people would have cried over Radman's
warrant having been served, but I was in no shape to cope with anyone who did. If any of Radman's

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people were still close enough to hear about the Special Agent in the hospital area, they might be
distraught enough to try reaching me. That side of it could be considered part of my job" but the bodies
of anyone who got in their way was more than I was willing to accept. I would stay the innocent little
Jenny until I got out of there, but there was one question I would have enjoyed having an advance
answer to. Because of the conditioning of my job I had a fast snap-back from all drugs, pain killers
included. The one they had me loaded with was bound to wear off sooner than anyone expected, and T
there was nothing I could say to make the time any easier. There was sure to be some warning before it
wore off entirely, and all I could hope was that someone would notice before it went all the way. The
decision was made, but then I insisted on dredging up a memory of what it had been like the last time I'd
been beaten this badly.

"Take it easy, Red," the nurse said sharply, putting her hands on my arms. "Don't shiver like that, you'll
be all right. Just lie still now and get some rest. After what you've been through, you need it."

She held onto me until the shuddering stopped, waited a minute or two to be sure I was all right, then
took the old bandages she'd removed away with her. When I was alone again I turned onto my side,
staring at the closed hall door and picturing Val as he'd looked when he'd stood there. He was much
better off being out searching for fun than sitting beyond the door agonizing, but the hospital area had
become a lonelier and emptier place. As a comparable place the Pleasure Sphere had very little going for
it, but at least there I could have used my role to hold tight to his arm.

By lunchtime the next day I was finally feeling less like a decaying side of beef. If I'd told Jane-my
nurse-the generic name for the pain killer in me, I would have been wrong. I'd forgotten who they
thought they were dealing with, and most people don't require the strength and effectiveness of neranol.
They'd used some other garbage on me, and I spent the day watching the snowy woods scene through
the vu-cast window, catching glimpses of odd-looking animals, feeling the hovering pain nip and bite at
me every once in a while, testing the strength of my protection, growing bolder with every successful
bite. Jane had been in and out, watching me with a disturbed look in her eyes, knowing something was
wrong but not knowing what. I lay in one spot on the bed, my forehead and underarms dotted with
sweat, well beyond even thinking about sitting up, a sour sickness growing stronger inside me. I heard
clattering noises out in the hall, noises that usually meant food was on its way, but happily nothing was
brought to me.

Beyond the vu-cast window a light snowfall started, adding to whatever was on the ground, and then,
unbelievably without any real warning, my defenses were gone, buried beneath wave after wave of fiery,
blazing pain. My back was raw meat under the surroskin, my wrists a bloody mess under the bandages,
the muscles of my arms and legs still strained from what I'd been put through, and it all came out
together, rolling over me and smashing me flat to the bed. I tried not to make a sound but the screaming
got itself started and kept going, and then Jane was there, grabbing for me and shouting something over
her shoulder. Other faces came to view, most of them attached to hands that held onto me, and then a
male face appeared, his hands holding a pressure hypo, but it had all gone on too long. Just as the
protective wrapping began forming around me again, I passed out.



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I couldn't have been out too long, because Jane was there wiping sweat off me when I opened my eyes.
She smiled in the dimmed lighting when she saw me looking at her, and lost no time telling me that what
had happened wouldn't happen again. They were now using a special drug called neranol, and would
watch it closely to see when it was wearing off. I'd gotten to the point of being positive it hadn't been
neranol to begin with, and Jane's confirming it made me feel considerably better. If the day ever comes
that neranol behaves the way that garbage had behaved, a lot of Federation agents will be in a lot of
trouble.

I spent some time just breathing quietly, but Jane kept up -a light, one-sided conversation while she saw
to it that I drank down various thin concoctions. I drank them without argument and let her cheerful
words flow around and over me without paying any attention to them, but then a stray thought brought
to mind a chore undone. Hospitals don't like leaving unconscious people with jewelry on them, and my
bio-ring had been gone from the time I'd first opened my eyes. Of course, it was always possible that
someone else had taken the ring, and it was important that I find out if it was gone for good. I waited for
the first break in her monologue, then asked if I'd had any jewelry on when I'd been brought in. Jane
hadn't known off-hand, but she'd volunteered to go and find out, which took about a minute and a half.
As soon as she came back through the door I saw my bio-ring clutched in her hand, but I also saw the
frown on her face. She closed the door firmly behind her and then came to stand next to the bed.

"It could have been a lot worse for you than it was, Red," she told me, her large brown eyes matching
her frown. "Why didn't you say something?"

"About what?" I asked, wondering where the conversation was going.

"About this," she answered, opening her hand to let me see the ring. "I know a bio-ring when I see one;
and I also know who carries them. I was on the staff of a special Federation hospital for five years before
deciding to move here. "

Being helpless has a funny way of making everyone around you seem suspect, and I'm not a particularly
trusting type to begin with. Jane's story hadn't convinced me of anything but the fact that she knew I was
an agent, and she must have seen on my face what I was feeling. She moved her free hand to my
shoulder and squeezed gently.

"The name of the hospital was Blue Skies," she said, her pretty face understanding. "You must know as
well as I do how fitting the name is. Dr. Croyden was head of my service, and Dr. Madison was his
superior. Ralph Madison is a tall man in his forties; Ned Croyden, short and in his thirties with a
mustache. The staff calls them Mutt and Jeff, but not to their faces."

Her-eyes were full of calm assurance, and in spite of myself I found the tension draining out of me. The
facility wasn't called "Blue Skies" by anyone who wasn't familiar with it, and the joke about Ned and
Ralph was restricted to an even greater degree. If the woman in front of me was lying, the effort she was
putting into it was more than anything she might conceivably gain.



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"I'm surprised you were able to take it for five years," I said at last, and she smiled and nodded in
agreement with the sentiment. "Blue Skies" was set up not far from the agent-training facilities, and was
the most active special hospital the Federation had.

"Five years was all I could stand," she said, handing me the bio-ring. "This place is a vacation compared
to what went on over there. Have you finished your assignment yet?"

"Yes, I finished it." I smiled slightly, watching her move a chair closer to the bed and sit down. "Can't
you tell just by looking?"

"Not always," she said with a laugh, and then she frowned in thought. "Hey, wait a minute," she
muttered, staring into space and then bringing her eyes back to me. "Who did I chew out when I thought
you were an innocent kid?"

She looked so suddenly embarrassed, that I couldn't keep from grinning.

"Val's my partner," I told her, shifting to my side to look at her more easily. "Aside from being totally
innocent of everything I hinted at, if not for him I wouldn't even be this well off. He's the one who saved
what was left of my hide."

"And to think what I said to him!" She gasped, her cheeks red. "Why did you do that?"

I thought about Val out having his fun, then shrugged as well as I could.

"Val and I have a rather special relationship," I explained. "He tends to worry about me too much, and
I'd rather see him mad."

"I think you're out of your mind," she pronounced, shaking her head at me. "He didn't strike me as the
sort of man who would appreciate having jokes played on him. Doesn't his size bother you at all?"

"Only when he's mad at me," I answered, then closed my eyes with the deep weariness I was feeling.

"I can put you out, you know," Jane's voice came, soft with understanding but free of useless pity. "The
doctor left orders for it if it became necessary."

All of my carefully nurtured instincts stirred at that, and I shook my head as I forced my eyes open again.

"No, thanks," I said, trying to grin. "I'm all right."

"The hell you are." She snorted, getting out of the chair to stand next to me. "All you agents are alike.
You always have to be awake and in charge."

"It's a survival characteristic," I commented.

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"I'd almost forgotten what taking care of agents was like," Jane said, her back straightening as she
looked down at me. "You think you know best and you won't even consider anything else. Well, that's
all right with me, as long as you remember that I'm in charge. If you're silly enough to forget it, you'll be
reminded the hard way."

She took the bio-ring from my hand and put it in the drawer of the small table next to the bed, then got
on about her business. I shifted onto my back again, wondering just how much trouble I'd have with her,
but I shouldn't have bothered wondering. Her sturdy body was in and out of the room for the rest of that
day, bringing pills for me to take, gelatine-like mixtures for me to drink, tests that required no
cooperation on my part, and examinations that did. I tried being as objective as possible about it, but I
have a deep-seated belief that three quarters of all things done to you in a hospital are done just to give
the staff something to occupy them. I finally had a bad attack of lousy temper, but Jane couldn't have
cared less. She brought in a hypo filled with sleepy stuff, and I didn't even get to see how long the
snowstorm outside the vu-cast window lasted.

When I opened my eyes again, the light in the room was brighter than the deep night shown through the
vu-cast window. Jane was nowhere to be seen-something that really pleased me-so I grabbed the
opportunity to see if I'd made any progress in the moving around department. My whole body felt fuzzy
and almost numb, showing that the neranol had been given to me very recently, and sitting up was no
more trouble than getting the proper muscles moving. There was some dizziness that passed quickly,
letting me raise the back of the bed and make myself as comfortable as possible.

The peace and quiet lasted until Jane discovered I was awake. She wore a crisp new uniform and looked
well rested, so I knew I'd probably been out the entire Station night and part of the morning. Prying the
time out of her was like digging out ultra-secret naval plans, but when I finally had the information I
found I was right.

Not long after Jane went on her way again, the door to my room was opened. I'd been staring at the
blank light-tan walls around me, trying to pinpoint what was so damned irritating about them, but sight
of the short, round figure in the doorway lightened my mood to the grinning point.

"A friendly face at last," I greeted him, watching Ringer frown around the room before coming all the
way in and over to my bed. Despite the frown I was glad to see him, just the way I usually was.

"I didn't think I'd find you sitting up," he growled, moving those eyes over me to inspect my wrists.
"Why is it that the complications you find usually turn out to be worse than the assignments?"

"Just lucky, I guess," I shrugged, in turn giving the up and down to his dark gray business suit. "Or
maybe it's part of my talent. Isn't Val with you?"

"He should be along in a minute," Ringer said, opening his jacket so he could put his hands in his
pockets. "I left word for him when my ship docked, and came ahead to talk to your doctor. Do you want

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to be moved out of here to one of our own places?"

"I'll have to think about it." I shrugged again, shaking my hair back over my shoulders. "it all depends on
how long they try to keep me in bed. By the way, I've got something for you. "

I began reaching over to the drawer where Jane had put my bio-ring the day before, only peripherally
seeing the door open to admit Val.

"Don't stretch like that!" Ringer ordered, grabbing my arm gently before I'd moved very far. "Do you
want to have another day like the one you had yesterday? I'll get it."

Val's head came up when he heard that, and he stopped short and said, "What happened yesterday?"

"How was your trip, Ringer?" I tried to interrupt, hoping he'd missed Val's question while inspecting the
bio-ring. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Be quiet!" Val snapped at me, then repeated to Ringer. "What happened yesterday?" and there was no
way I could stop it.

"They gave her a grade Z suppressant and it wore off too soon," Ringer said, studying Val as he put
away the ring in a pocket. "Her doctor told me they had to go after her with butterfly nets, and he still
doesn't understand why. Where were you that you didn't know about it?"

Val's face was a strange combination of conflicting emotions, but his eyes were hard and angry. It would
have been a hell of a lot easier if the anger had been directed toward me, but I could see he was angry
with himself for not being there when he might have been needed. He glanced at me quickly, almost in
embarrassment, and I knew I'd have to find a way of telling him I'd gotten rid of him on purpose. He was
bound to be even angrier at that, but there was nothing else I could do.

"I was-busy yesterday," he said at last, looking at Ringer with a suddenly expressionless face.
"Obviously it was the wrong thing to be."

Ringer studied Val's face, but he didn't say what was going through his mind. The situation could have
become considerably more awkward, but you can always trust Ringer to stick to the basics.

"I think it's time I had a report on this thing," he growled, filling the silence. "I didn't come all this way
just to keep you two company."

At that point there was a brisk knock, and Jane opened the door to stick her head in.

"No more than fifteen minutes, men," she ordered, looking at Ringer and Val. "You can see her again
tomorrow when she's stronger."



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When Jane's head disappeared, Ringer sat down in the chair that was still near my bed and pulled out a
cigarette.

"Let's make it move," he said. "We don't have much time. "

"I think I ought to start," I said, and while Val came closer .to lean against a wall, I gave Ringer a
rundown on all the preliminaries as well as my part of the end without going into needless detail. Val
paid close attention to the doings he, hadn't been around for, an odd expression flickering in his eyes
when I mentioned the ledge I'd used to reach Radman. I ran it through to the end, and then it was my
partner's turn.

"At dinner that night, when she said she wanted to go back to our apartment, I was reasonably certain
she wasn't really ill," he said, keeping his eyes on Ringer. "I had the feeling she was up to something,
but I was up to something myself with Little, and didn't want to waste the chance if I could help it. Little
had something he wanted to show me, and while he was showing, I was going to try pumping him about
the guests, to see if he knew too much about any of them. I didn't notice when the man who had been
sitting next to Diana left, and I didn't know he was sick. Diana hadn't told, y4 me he was Radman, and
she hadn't told me what she planned on doing."

Ringer's eyes came to me briefly then, no real expression on his face, his attention then on Val to keep
from interrupting the narrative.

"I spent the next two or three hours with Little, but wasn't able to do much in the way of questioning,"
Val continued, his arms folded where he leaned against the wall, his gaze now filled with memory.
"There was some sort of transmission from what he called The Arena, and more than a few of the other
guests watched it with us. Naked men fought with one another bare-handed and with weapons, and in
each fight only one of the combatants survived. The surviving fighter was then given a female slave to
use right there where he'd fought, and the screaming of the spectators never stopped. I stayed until I was
just short of kicking the walls down, then insisted on leaving.

"When I finally got back to our apartment, Diana wasn't there., I very nearly went back out into the
corridor to ask the slaves if they'd seen her, then realized I couldn't do that. For all I knew she might
have been following a clue to Radman or even taking care of him, so the last thing I could do was call
attention to her. There was nothing else for it but to wait, but I waited all night and she never showed up.
By the time morning came and she still hadn't come back, I decided it was past time to be cautious. I
made it into the corridor just in time to be rounded up with a number of the other guests who were
awake, to be questioned about Richard Radman's death. They said it had happened some time during the
previous evening, and that bothered me. I looked around and noticed that although Matthew was there,
James was nowhere to be seen. I remembered how James had looked at her and what he'd said about her
when he'd spoken to me, so when Matthew left I followed him to their apartment. I could feel that she
was in there--I'm still attuned to her, you know-so I clobbered Matthew and took his place. When James
opened the door, I went in and got her out. "



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"My hero," I said, more in a murmur than aloud, and neither he nor Ringer heard it.

. "I never expected the Management to handle things the way they did," he went on, looking frowningly
confused. "I did expect at least a few questions about why I hadn't reported Diana missing the night
before, but they never even brought the matter up. They took Matthew away somewhere, and a little
while later they came for Little. He screamed and blubbered when they dragged him out of the dining
room where he had been eating, and except for the slaves in that place, I've never seen a man so afraid.
They must have found out from Matthew that he was involved with Radman in trying to sell Diana, and
he was the only one left for them to take their mad out on. After seeing that, I spent a minute or two
regretting that Diana had reached Radman after all. It would have been more fitting if he had lived to
experience what he had made so many other people experience."

I had to admit I agreed with that sentiment, but Ringer didn't look like he was agreeing with anything.
He hadn't said anything during the entire recital, but his eyes had drifted back to me toward the end of
Val's lecture. When the last word had been said, he shook his head at me.

"What a mess," he growled, dropping his second cigarette onto the floor to grind it under his foot. "Is
that your idea of a partnership? Why didn't you brief him properly instead of taking off on your own? I
ought to cite you right now for stupidity like that."

"You use your definition of partnership, I use mine," I answered, barely able to shrug. "Mine might turn
out to be better in the long run, so why not give it a chance?"

"I'll think about it," Ringer said grimly, answering a question I hadn't expected an answer to, while he
rose from the chair. "If you hadn't forced yourself to show him how to use the telelink, I'd still be
waiting for your call. You didn't follow any of the standard precautionary procedures for a two-agent
operation, and it could have turned out a lot worse than it did. I'll make my report to the Council and let
you know what they say tomorrow. Right now you'd better get,; some more rest. Come on, Valdon."

"I need company more than I need rest," I called after them as they went toward the door, trying to get
rid of the faint depression that had settled on me from talking about the Sphere. "How about leaving Val
here to amuse me?"

"I'll amuse you," Jane said from the suddenly open door, her fist on her hip as she glared around. "Out,
you two men, and don't come back till tomorrow."

Ringer and Val disappeared faster than they would have at an order from the Council, and I was left with
my good buddy Jane. I thought about breaking out of there, but instructions had been left by my doctor
about how much sleep I was supposed to get. Since I hadn't done anything about it on my own, Jane had
come in to help me out, and my thoughts about breaking out lasted about three seconds after the sound
of the hypo.




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CHAPTER 16

When Ringer came back alone the next day, my mood was a good deal blacker than it had been the day
before. Ringed wasn't looking any too jolly himself as he reclaimed the chair `near my bed, but with
Jane taking advantage of the shape I was in to push me around, I couldn't muster much sympathy for
him. He didn't say a word until he'd settled himself in the chair, and then those sharp, piercing eyes
glared at my face.

"Why didn't you mention this thing about being a teenager again?" he growled without preamble. "Slip
your mind, did it?"

I snarled wordlessly at the reminder and swallowed down what my first reactions would have made me
say, and satisfied myself with throwing the plastic water glass in my hand as far as I could without
crippling myself.

"That's a very touchy subject with me," I told him. "I don't like any part of it, and I've long since been
fed up with being treated like a child. I want a certificate of majority here as soon as humanly possible,
sooner if you think you can swing it."

"Do you," he murmured, staring at me with a strange expression I had the feeling I'd seen before. "Well,
I've already spoken to the Council about it, but I'd rather get to another of their points first. I spent some
time thinking about how you handled this assignment, and I'm convinced you left Valdon out of a lot of
it on purpose. The Council agrees with me, and is very disturbed about it. I passed on what he told me
about wanting to take a ship from the shuttle port, and they feel he could have been killed because you
didn't give him enough information to work with. Considering that they've decided to try friendly
relations with Valdon's people, they are understandably upset that you might have put them in the
embarrassing position of having to report his death at the first conference. They have therefore decided
to cite you, but you don't get away with three months of desk duty. You will accompany Valdon during
a three-month procedures course at the Agent Training Academy, and you will be returned to cadet
grade and status during that time."

His voice had been stiff and official with that handing-down-a-verdict tone, and suddenly I
comprehended his expression. It was the same one he'd worn when he'd taken away my knife on
Faraway Station, one that said he wasn't likely to listen to anything I said to change his mind. I frowned
and shook my head, not really believing he could be serious; he saw my headshake, and leaned forward
in the chair to point a finger at me.

"Are you still glad you did it all yourself?" he asked, his voice now back to normal. "If you are, think
again. There's more. "

"What do you mean, more?" I demanded, starting to get mad. "Isn't the first of that imbecility enough?
Do all of you want my blood to go with it?"

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"You can keep what's left of your blood," Ringer snorted, grinning faintly. "I know you better than you
think I do, and I was asked for a recommendation on this point. I discussed the minority matter with
them, telling them how well you liked it, and they decided to let your conduct during the next three
months have a say as to whether or not you get what you need. Until that certificate is approved, you
travel as a minor and watch your step. If your step takes you out of line, no certificate."

"The hell you say!" I snarled, pulling the cover off me so that I could move around to face him. "I'll be
damned if I'll be blackmailed like that! I won't do it!"

"You'll do it or they'll throw you out," Ringer said, his voice warning as his eyes measured my anger.
"You have no idea how angry they were."

"Let them throw me out," I snarled, running my hand through my hair. "If I can't find anything else to
do, I'll just go home for a few years. I won't be a teenager forever."

Ringer didn't say anything, he just stared at me, and I felt a cold chill start around my backbone where I
shouldn't have felt anything at all.

"I said, `I won't be a teenager forever,' " I repeated in a voice that wasn't as steady as it should have
been. "Why don't you say something? Like an agreement, for instance."

"You know, Diana, I think I ought to feel sorry for you," he mused, looking at me strangely. "And that in
spite of all the grief you've given me. Valdon told me something you obviously don't know. You'll be a
teenager until you go back with him to be readjusted, and if you walk out on this job you won't be going
back."

I just stared at him and shook my head back and forth, just as though it was on a wire. I couldn't believe
it-I wouldn't believe it!

"Hang on, Diana," Ringer advised, his voice softer than it had been. "There's one more thing. The
Council voted to honor Valdon in his stay here with us, and granted him the rank of Agent First Class.
When you two get to the facilities on Tanderon, he'll be the ranking half of the partnership."

Ringer said his piece and then waited for my reaction, but it was more than he expected-or, at the very
least, different. He saw the quiet tears filling my eyes and saw, too, that the anger I'd shown was gone.

"Ringer, don't do this to me," I whispered, my breath coming in gasps. "Don't all the years we've worked
together mean anything? Please don't make him senior to me, please! You don't know him, you don't
know what he'll do. Please!"

I grabbed the bed's side rail to get closer to him, and he frowned and got out of the chair fast to put his
hands on my arms. I moaned and cried and grabbed his shirt with both hands, all the while pleading with

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him, and he forced me back farther onto the bed, then pressed the nurse-call. His face looked pale and
concerned over the way I was babbling, and he stabbed one-handed again and again at the nurse-call,
then cursed under his breath when there was no answer to it. He put the bed down flat while muttering
something soothing, saw that I wasn't trying to sit up again once he had me down flat too, and decided to
take a chance. He took a lead away from the bed, watching closely to see if I was going to move, then
made a dash for the door and out. I knew he'd be back in no time with professional help and I didn't want
to be sedated, so I left off crying just ragged sobs-until a nurse not Jane-rushed in, then begged to be left
alone for a while.

The sympathetic woman agreed immediately, herded a still-worried Ringer out in front of her, and I was
finally able to put aside the act.

Of all the damned bad luck! I stretched out flat on my back to stare up at the ceiling, wishing I had
something breakable in reach. Not only had the Council decided to knock me down, they'd also opted for
jumping on me with both feet. And the worst part of it was the bit about Val. Remembering the way he'd
been on the Station and later on in the Sphere, I was willing to bet he'd try milking a higher rank for all it
was worth. He'd made it plain that he didn't care for my sense of humor and way of doing things, and
life would not lack interest with him trying to take charge again. I stirred in annoyance, knowing good
old Ringer had had more than a little to say about what was to be done with me, so the worry I'd given
him was no more than what he'd asked for. He and I had worked together for a long time, long enough
for him to know better than to crow in front of me. I never mind someone taking his best shot, but
bragging about it before it lands is asking for trouble.

A dark, snowy dawn was just beginning outside the vu-cast window, but it wasn't doing much to lighten
the blue-shadowed mounds covering the forest floor. I caught a glimpse of something thin and gray
moving silently between the trees,.; and then it was gone from view, leaving no more than dainty
footprints that were already on the way to being filled. My eyes continued to stare at the scene, but my
mind wandered away to consider the problem I had, examining options and possibilities, and I was so far
into it that the slamming open of the door to my room took an instant to penetrate to where I was. Before
I knew what was going on, I was treated to the totally unexpected presence of Val, who stopped beside
my bed and reached out fast to grab my arms.

"Diana, are you all right?" he demanded harshly as his fingers dug into my arms. I was so surprised by
the suddenness of it all that I couldn't hold back a gasp. The steel-like grip of his fingers hadn't really
hurt me, but it was so rigid and demanding that I could almost feel it through the neranol. My gasp must
have reached past the intensity he was projecting; his fingers loosened as abruptly as they'd tightened,
and faint confusion filled his deep black eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, shifting his grip to the bed rail. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but I just
left Ringer and he was really shaken. He said something about hysteria and collapse, and almost had me
believing I'd find you catatonic."

I have to admit Val really looked upset, but Ringer's news hadn't left me much in the way of

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compassion. I looked up into his face as I tucked my hands behind my head, and snorted my opinion of
his comments.

"Don't look so disappointed," I advised, unable to keep the dryness from my voice. "You may have
missed the catatonia, but you're just in time for the suicidal depression. I may even let you help me
decide whether to cut my wrists or my throat. "

If he had exploded and started shouting at me I wouldn't have been surprised, but the relieved grin that
covered his face was a surprise. He unwrapped his fingers from around the bed rail as his grin widened,
and reached out one hand to brush the hair from my eyes.

"You're all right." He chuckled, for some reason pleased with my sarcasm. "I recognize your standard
courtesy of manner-and never thought I'd be glad to hear it." He took a ,deep breath and stretched, then
looked around and spotted the chair Ringer had used. He seemed to need it, and walked over to collapse
into it before looking at me again.

"You know, you never mentioned how long it takes people to heal around here," he observed, apparently
no longer upset. "If we were back at the base, you'd be on your feet by now. "

"You neglected to mention a few things, too," I responded, shifting over onto my side to stare at him.
"I've decided that Ringer must have been putting me on. Nobody has immortality."

"Who-said anything about immortality?" he asked, obviously knowing what I was talking about. "This
age business is strictly in the way of being cosmetic. You're seventeen, you'll register as seventeen until
you have it changed, but you haven't really been made seventeen again. Look at it this way: your heart
has just so many beats natural to ix from the time it was first formed. If we make your heart register like
that of a seventeen-year-old, that doesn't mean we've cancelled out all of the beating it's done till then. If
you were sixty when it was done, and your heart has sixty-one years of beating in it, you'd still have only
one more year until it stopped, no matter what you and it looked like."

"Thanks for the lecture." I nodded, keeping my eyes on him. "It's really settled all of my problems. Now
I'm free to be young and happy again."

"Poor Diana!" He laughed, stretching out comfortably in the chair. "They really gave it to you, didn't
they? Put from what Ringer said, you've been asking for it for a long time."

"Ringer can blow it out his- Oh, hell, never mind!" I snarled, snarled, turning away from him. "You
don't know the first thing about it."

"Then why don't you try telling me about it?" he suggested from behind me, almost in annoyance. "I
know it'll be a brand new approach for you, but you might manage it if you try hard enough."

I turned back and measured him for a minute, then nodded my head.

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"Okay," I said slowly, sitting up straight. °`I think I will. I'm in this mess now because of you, and
there's no reason why both of us shouldn't know all about it. Sure, I cut you out of my operation, and I
did do it on purpose. If I could have left you on the Station I would have, but that age thing kept me
from doing it the right way. My original intention was to train you before letting you work with me
because you do have potential, but no matter how competent you are, Val, you're still not agent caliber
and never will be unless you learn to use your head in addition to other parts of your anatomy. "

"If you think you're telling me something," said Val, "you'd better think again. "Nothing you've said so
far makes any sense."

"It doesn't?" I asked, warming to my subject as I continued to keep my eyes on him. "Then see how this
grabs you. Certain procedures are set up for valid reasons, and assignment leadership is a perfect
example of one of those. The assignment leader is usually the one on the team with more experience,
knowledge, expertise, or all three, the one who gets to make all bottom-line decisions for precisely those
reasons. Not only did you immediately try to take over an assignment when you had no real idea about
what was going on, you also spent your time looking for ways to protect me from all those big, bad
Xanadu people. If I had to guess, I'd say you still don't understand how much extra trouble we had
because of those little pastimes of yours."

"That might be because we didn't have any extra trouble," he said, stubbornly insisting on the point.
"What's really bothering you is the way you had to take orders for once, instead of doing everything
your own way."

"Oh, is it?" I retorted, raising my eyebrows in faint surprise I felt not at all. "Then I suppose I was
imagining that little difficulty we had with Greg Rich, all because you `didn't care for the man.' If you
hadn't antagonized him to the point of challenge, I never would have had to kill him. And how about the
orders I gave you on the subject of my being for sale? James told me about the talk he'd had with you,
the talk during which you turned down his offer cold. If you'd followed orders he would have expected
to collect me here on the Station, and most probably would not have sent his plug-ugly after me right in
the Sphere. And as a final item, if you search your memory very carefully, you may remember that I
made a point of telling you that if you ran into any difficulty in the Sphere and I wasn't available to
consult, you were to go to the Management. I wasn't talking for the practice, but when you did run into
trouble, what did you do? You went charging to the rescue and almost got us both killed. The
Management is very close about what leaves the Sphere. If you had tried taking over a shuttle or ship
from the port, they would have followed standard procedure, overridden your controls with a
grabberfield the way they do with docking here in the Station, and crashed the ship in a place
specifically reserved for the purpose. Am I coming through any clearer now?"

My lecture had grown downright heated, but that wasn't why Val was still staring at me.

"James was going to take you out of there," he put in, a very definite disturbance in his stare. "How did
he plan on doing it?"

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"James had his own ship, but unless he had taken some very special precautions he wouldn't have made
it either," I pointed out, gesturing a dismissal. "But James wasn't very tightly wrapped anyway, so it
doesn't pay to talk about it. The point is still the same. You kept overriding my orders and worrying
about protecting me, and we were out-and out, lucky we lived through it."

"Is that part of why you got rid of me a couple of days ago?" he asked, quiet now. "Ringer said you
knew what would happen."

"Sure I knew." I shrugged, looking briefly away from him. I was glad Ringer had told him the truth, but
I was oddly disturbed over his lack of anger. "This isn't my first time in a hospital, and I didn't need you
running around making things worse."

"Making things worse," he echoed. "Translated, that means you knew how I would feel about standing
around helplessly, watching you wrapped in the agony of pain you were suffering because of me.
Because of what I did and didn't do."

"Come on, Val, let's not get melodramatic." I grew impatient as I glanced at his expressionlessness.
"James may have grabbed me because you disobeyed orders, but you had nothing to do with the rest of
it. If I hadn't tried hurting him when I was in no shape to hurt even so much as his feelings, it never
would have happened."

"You shouldn't have had to try hurting him," he responded quietly, his big body still stretched out and
relaxed in the chair, his black eyes sober with accepted guilt. "I'm sure you know as well as I do why I
waited until morning to finally go looking for you. I was so damned sick to get out of that place, I kept
telling myself that I could ruin everything if I tried looking for you. I'd given you a choice for the
following morning, and to avoid the choice you didn't want to accept, you were tracking down Radman
and finding a way to execute the warrant. When I finally came out of the dream and had to admit
something had gone wrong, it was already too late. I know which part of it was my fault and which
wasn't, and you can bet I won't make the same mistake 'again. What I don't understand is why you
haven't said any of these things to Ringer and the Council. It would be bound to make a difference. "

"What happens between partners on an assignment stays between them," I told him stiffly, folding my
legs in front of me. "I don't know how they do these things where you come from, but around here we
don't go crying to anyone about the problems we have. If we can't get along with the partner assigned to
us, we find a different partner, which is what I intend doing. I hope you'll be happier with whomever you
team with next."

"Now what -are you talking about?" he demanded, sitting up suddenly in the chair to gape at me in
disbelief. "You can't refuse to be my partner! I don't want anyone else!"

"That's too bad, because I do," I said adamantly. "The only thing you seem to have gotten out of
everything I just said was that you know what to blame yourself for, and to hell with all the rest of it.

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That perspective fits in nicely with the way the Council is looking at it, but I don't like being caught in
the middle. Find somebody else to take advantage of, friend; I've already had my share."

"What do you mean, that fits in with the way the Council is looking at it?" he asked with a frown,
ignoring everything else I'd said. "What does the Council have to do with this?

"You can't possibly mean you haven't noticed that the Council has adopted you as its very own baby
boy?" I said, annoyed. "Why do you think they came down on me so hard? Because I didn't stick to
procedures? Hell, they go into shock when I do stick to procedures. The thing that's really getting them
is the way you almost came to an abrupt end, which would have put them on the spot at the first
conference with your people. They can't very well blame you, not while, you're an `official
representative,' so they decided to get even for some past difficulties we've had by unloading it all on
me. Officially I'm the goat, the one who was supposed to have been running the operation; unofficially
you're scheduled for a procedures course, to make sure you don't screw up again. Since you and they
think you're so perfect, I wish you all the best together; as soon as I'm out of this place, I'm going back to
doing things the way I used to: alone."

I straightened my legs out again and lay down flat on the bed, moving slowly but surreptitiously. That
one, stupid conversation had taken more strength out of me than an hour's worth of heavy exercise had
done just a few weeks earlier, and I hated that. It would take time before I was back to being as I had
been, but I had no patience for waiting.

"So you think they hit you that hard only because they needed someone to blame," Val said, suddenly
standing beside, the bed again to smooth back the damp hair from my forehead. "Ringer tells me they
were as furious as he was to learn how close you'd come to being killed, and all because you hadn't told
me what you were doing. I was wrong to let you take off on your own without keeping closer tabs on
you, but you were just as wrong not to make sure you were backed up when you went to execute the
warrant. The Council may have decided to adopt me, Diana, but you already belong to them. You gave
them a scare, and now they're spanking you for taking unnecessary risks. "

"You're crazy!" I snapped, shaking my head in annoyance against his hand. "What risks I take are my
own decision, not theirs, just as it's always been! And you don't have any more to say about it than they
do! Just get out of here and leave me alone."

"I can see you're hurting again so I will leave, but only for now," he said, looking down at me with those
black, black eyes. "As far as our not being partners anymore is concerned, though, you can forget about
it. If your Council is all " eager to make me feel welcome, they'll let me have any partner I want, which
means you. They know as well as I do that you need someone to look after you and teach you how to
behave yourself, and I'm the one who's going to do it, starting at the training facilities."

He' bent suddenly and brushed my lips with his, giving me the oddest feeling, then ran gentle fingers
down my cheek.



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"When they let you out of here, I'll be waiting," he said softly, and I knew without doubt that he wasn't
talking about looking after me or any nonsense about behaving. I was in no shape to think about what he
was talking about, so I just watched him leave without saying a word, then rolled over onto my left side
to grapple with my problems.

Val was after something, I knew that as a dead-certain fact, but what the something could be was more
than I was able to imagine. Why was he so determined to be partners with me? Why did he refuse to
understand that I didn't need his protection? Why did he keep harping on this garbage about teaching me
to behave myself? It was almost as if he had ideas about the two of us beyond a working partnership, but
that was ridiculous. Special Agents didn't get involved in anything beyond working partnerships, and if
Val didn't know that already, he'd find it out as soon as he saw I wasn't kidding about ending ours. Being
near him was too much of a distraction not to mention the fact that he refused to follow orders. I had a
job to think about, an important job, and with my life-style, one-night-stands had it all over permanent
distractions.

I sighed deeply and stretched out flat again, but couldn't find a comfortable position. If Ringer ever
managed to stop and think about it, he'd know I wasn't about to accept the Council's tantrum without
trying to do something about it, so I had to plan my moves and act on them before Ringer was ready. I
didn't know how long I'd be stuck in that hospital bed, but I'd have to see to it that the time was as short
as possible. If I made my break good I'd be able to go back to Dameron's base and take care of the
nuisance of being a minor, but if I didn't make it, the Council would see that my time was well filled. I
shook my head in annoyance, then gave it up and tried to make myself relax. There was an ancient curse
attributed to a group once called Chinese that went, "May you live in interesting times." One way or
another, the next few months were going to prove to be very-interesting!




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