“Five ccs DuoHypno Type Two,” she said softly. The dispenser complied.

“Now, Jord, you find that you’re tired. The session has been a strain and you are falling asleep. You are so tired, you will hear nothing and remember nothing from now until I say that you are ready to listen. Do you hear me?” Seeing no reaction, she looked toward one of the computer vidcams.

“I could kill him now,” she said to the wall.

“I would stop you,” the computer replied. “Or clone a new body for him.”

“Don’t you grant that Virgil’s persona is vital to this mission?”

“He serves a purpose. There are many things I cannot do.”

“You sound a lot smarter than the computer we built into Circus Galacticus.”

“A mistake in circuiting has strengthened my neural net.”

“You’re still stupid, Ben. And you, Death Angel, you don’t appreciate.” Virgil stared at her, both of them wide-eyed.

“Virgil?”

“Death Angel you’re stupid too. Forgot what Marsface said? I don’t listen to Duodrugs and their insect tugging. Why am I strapped down?”

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“The dead man in me was doing something and I watched- but he got it all fogged and I couldn’t see out well. Why’re you talking so funny?”

“I bit my tongue.”

“Is Bubbles still inside you?”

She winced, then twisted her hands against the manacles. Through grinding teeth, she said, “I’m keeping her down – because – she’s – the – closest – thing – to – a…brainwipe I could have been p-put in.” She shouted once, as though she had endured a blow from an invisible fist, and untensed. “I don’t see how you can do it, Virgil.”

“Different set of circumstances. Will you unstrap me?”

“Jord,” Delia said in a commanding tone. “You are ready to listen.”

Virgil seemed to melt in on himself, and a dreamy voice answered, “I’m ready. To listen.”

She leaned toward him to whisper. “You are Jord Baker, but only when I command it. When you hear me say the word ‘hide,’ you will surrender yourself to Virgil Kinney’s control. When you hear me say the word ‘jackal,’ you will overcome Virgil Kinney and believe that all the things done by him were your own actions. Do you understand?”

The man before her nodded.

“Good. Your sleep is over now. You will awaken refreshed.”

For a few moments he lay there, then turned over under the straps and rubbed his eyes.

“Mmmm. Sorry, Dee. Didn’t mean to drift off.”

“That’s straight, you needed it.” She unstrapped him.

“Is that it for today? I’ve got to hit the head.”

“Yes. That’s it. How about these?” She held out her wrists.

“Nope. Those weren’t in the bargain. I need you for a while.” He left the room.

He did not go to the head, though. Stopping at the nearest viewscrim, he said, “Replay your memory of the session we just had.”

He watched and listened with a stern frown. So, Kinney just popped up like that? And she’s still thinking of killing me? Is she trying to build me up to a post-hypnotic suggestion? Hide? It’s stupid. They look so stupid sitting there naked. Jackal?

Why, you bitch!

He flew in through the open hatch and tackled her before she could react. Clamping a hand over her mouth, he dragged her toward the instrument tray. Too fast for her to do more than gurgle, he shoved a fistful of cotton under his hand and held it in her mouth.

“Playing little tricks, bitch? I told you I wanted Kinney gone, not hidden.” He reached under her hair, pulled it up, and wrapped surgical tape around her head and across her mouth.

He used the entire roll and then let the container float away.

“Now,” he wondered aloud, “how are you going to do therapy on me when-” She brought her hands quickly up, catching him under the chin with the manacles. He spun away and she fell toward the instrument tray.

Fumbling with a small vial, she connected it to the hypogun and turned it to her chest. Her hands dug against the manacles, but she managed to point it above her left breast and pull the trigger.

“No!” Baker cried at the sound of the prolonged injection. He reached her as the first spasm threw the gun from her hands. He screamed at the computer: “What was it?”

“Two hundred ccs of sodium pentabarbitol administered intracardially. Detect no heart action, nervous system response dropping, respiration terminated. Brain death in-”

Ignoring the prognosis, he dragged her to the next room and threw her in the boxdoc. Mechanical scissors snipped away at the tape and metal claws withdrew the cotton while he unlocked the manacles. He closed the lid and watched the machine perform a cardio-pulmonary resuscitation sequence.

It’s no good-“Right? It’s no good.”

“The machine can keep blood circulating and oxygen reaching the brain to delay brain death, but she will not revive.”

Baker wiped the sweat from his face, breathed deeply, and asked, “How do I prepare her for cloning?”

Sitting in Con-One, Baker watched the lifeship drift away from the starboard bay. He turned off the scrim and tapped his fingers against the chair arm.

“Ready to transfer out and back,” the computer said. The transfer button lit up. Baker swallowed hard and pressed it.

I have to do it again and again, just to get the right to die my own way, safe and sure that the door will open wide and Dad and Crys will be there and here it comes again. I know. I’m trying to come with you, but it keeps pulling me back. I’m sorry. Someday. Soon.

Look at me. That’s not my body so thin and white. Don’t push. I’m going back.

“Ready to transfer.” Baker pushed the button again.

Maybe I’m almost getting used to this. Or maybe Kinney is taking me over and making me as crazy as he. When he takes over completely, will I die like this? Dropping forever toward the door, endlessly down a corridor-pit? There he falls again, Kinney, pushing Crys and Dad out of the way, begging me to follow him, telling me it’ll be all right, that he loves me as much as her and that was why he did it but I don’t believe him.

“What is your name?” the computer inquired.

“What? Oh. Jord Baker. Don’t you think that’s getting pretty useless? Both of us know about the other.”

“I need to keep track. You both have your… idiosyncrasies. Stand by for engine firing.” The tug of acceleration startled him, but he eased into the cushions and waited until weightlessness returned.

“Cloning tank and lifeship on visual,” it said. “Ready to be taken onboard. However-telemetry from the unit indicates a dysfunctional state.”

“What do you mean?” Baker unstrapped and retracted the control panels.

“The clone is apparently dead. All power to the cloning tank has been shut down-”

Baker sped to the docking bay, took the controls, and remote-piloted the lifeship back into Circus. He cycled the atmosphere and waited impatiently by the airlock.

“Come on.” Come on! The airlock slowly opened.

Pulling the cloning unit out of the ship, he opened the tank without inspecting it and peered inside at clean emptiness.

“Nothing! The unit must’ve failed right after we cast it off. Unless it went through a cleansing cycle-”

“The waste unit is empty. Now close the lid and look at it.”

Baker did so and read the frantic words knifed into the black plating.

WANDERER-I STOLE YOUR PRIZE

“What does that mean?”

“The ship that attacked us around Beta Hydri. The pilot called Virgil ‘Wanderer.’ ”

“How did he find us?” Baker tried to control the near-screech in his voice, digging his finger into the padded rim or the cloning tank.