A man who had dedicated his life to the pursuit of coldly logical reason. One to whom food was a tasteless fuel. A creature who could take a handful of facts and build a sequence of events from them culminating in a predicted eventuality.

He glanced up as the door opened, leaning back in his chair, his eyes watchful.

"Manager Nordkyn." The inclination of his head was perfunctory. "It is late. I had not thought to see you until tomorrow."

"I was curious," admitted the manager. "To to frank, I cannot understand why the company should have chosen to employ the services of the Cyclan. We have our own computers and the operation programs are proving successful."

"As yet, perhaps."

"A trend?" Nordkyn frowned. "I have run a complete series of analogues and have found nothing to pose any serious problems."

"And perhaps none will be found." Hsi touched the sheets before him, the reams of data, incidents, reports all compressed into symbolic language. "However, I notice that your progress per man-hour is falling."

"A seam of adamantine rock which delayed progress," said Nordkyn quickly. "It was anticipated and, now that we have penetrated it, lost time will be regained."

"Casualties seem to be high."

"Carelessness due to untrained labor. We are operating under a tight cost-schedule, as you must know. But is is unimportant, men are cheap." He added, incredulously, "Surely the Zur-Sekulich are not concerned over the loss of a few vagrants?"

"No."

"Then, with respect, I fail to see what you can achieve."

"You doubt the efficiency of the Cyclan?" Hsi's voice was a smoothly modulated monotone devoid of all irritant factors, yet Nordkyn was swift to refute the accusation.

"No! Of course not!"

"But you fail to see what can be gained by my advice." Hsi touched the sheets again, selected one. "Let me illustrate. Due to the price rise in basic staples, the food served at the canteens has fallen in terms of nutritional value to a factor of fifteen percent during the past eight weeks. This has resulted in a loss of physical energy and therefore, a lessening of productive effort put out by the workers. The financial gain is more than lost by reduced efficiency. If it is continued there will be an increase in accidents and deaths. There will also be a higher incidence of sickness and minor injury. Unless there is a change I predict that, within two months, you will be three and a half days behind schedule. This prediction is in the order of 89.6 percent of probability."

"I see." Nordkyn was thoughtful. "In that case you suggest-"

"I suggest nothing," said Hsi evenly. "I give no orders and insist on no change. I merely tell you what will be the most probable outcome of any series of events. What action you choose to take is entirely your own concern."

And, if he failed, his career would be over. Nordkyn didn't need to have it spelled out in detail. The Zur-Sekulich had no time for failure.

He said, "I will order the food to be changed at once. The expense will be high, but I'll manage somehow." Hesitating he added, "Is there anything else?"

"For the moment, no."

"Then I'll leave you, Cyber Hsi." Nordkyn backed toward the door, sweating. He was glad to leave the room.

Hsi turned again to the papers. Things were going as planned. The manager was a fool, concerned only with the job in hand. The Zur-Sekulich little better, thinking only of immediate profit, the wealth of the reclaimed metal, the subsidy they won from the Tradum authorities, dreaming of the constant stream of profits they would collect from tools once the passage was completed.

Later he would visit the Tradum Council, seek out those with the greatest powers, sow seeds of dissatisfaction in the minds of the landowners, those who now operated the sea and air transports.

Faced with ruin they would cooperate, forming a cabal to seize power, relying on the Cyclan to show them how to take and hold it. And then, once they were established, the pattern set, others would move in. Tools of the Cyclan, leaders willing to obey, men eager to be guided.

And yet another world would have fallen under the domination of the organization of which he was a part.

Already the hidden power of the Cyclan reached across the galaxy, worlds secretly manipulated by resident cybers, all living extensions of Central Intelligence, all working to a common end. The complete and total domination of all humanity everywhere.

Hsi turned a sheet, scanned it, his brain absorbing, assessing, collating the information it contained. A mass of trivia, yet each item could be part of something greater, each detail a step in a logical series of events.

"Master!" His acolyte entered the chamber at the touch of a bell. "Your orders?"

"Contact Chief Nyther at the workings. He reported a small gang of pilferers were captured. One was killed with a thrown knife. Find out who did it." A moment and it was done.

"Master, the man concerned was Earl Dumarest. He-"

Dumarest! Hsi rose and stepped towards the inner room. It was soft with unaccustomed luxury, the couch covered with silk, the mattress like a cloud.

"Total seal," he ordered. "I am not to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever."

As the door closed behind him, he touched the bracelet locked around his left wrist. From the device came an invisible field which ensured that no electronic eye or ear could focus on the vicinity. A precaution, nothing more, it would defy an electronic genius to probe the ability he possessed.

Relaxing on the couch, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the Samatachazi formulae. Gradually he lost sensory perception, the sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing, all dissolved into a formless blur. Had he opened his eyes he would have been blind. Locked in the confines of his skull his brain ceased to be irritated by external stimuli. It became a thing of reasoning, awareness, and untrammeled intellect. Only then did the grafted Homochon elements become active.

Rapport was established. Hsi became fully alive.

Each cyber had a different experience. For him, it was as if he drifted in an infinity of scintillant bubbles which burst to shower him with incredible effulgence. Spheres which touched to coalesce, to part, to veer in diverse paths, to meet again in an intricate complex of ever-changing patterns. Patterns of which he was an integral part, immersing himself in the effulgence and, by so doing, becoming both a part of and one with the whole.

Like a skein of dew the spheres stretched to all sides. Brilliant, shimmering, forming a moving, crystalline pattern, at the heart of which rested the headquarters of the Cyclan.

The Central Intelligence which made contact, touching, absorbing his knowledge as a sponge would suck water from a puddle. Mental communication of incredible swiftness.

"Dumarest?"

Agreement.

"Probability of error? Predictions low on possibility of his being on Tradum. Basis for assumption?"

Explanation.

"Probability high. Variable factor of deliberate random movement negates previous predictions. Take all steps to ensure that Dumarest is apprehended. Utmost priority. Of most urgent importance that he is not allowed to escape. Full protective measures to be employed at all times."

Understanding.

"Successful culmination will result in advancement. All previous instructions canceled. Find and hold Dumarest."

The rest was sheer mental intoxication. There was always a period after rapport, during which the Homochon elements sank back into quiescence. The physical machinery of the body began to realign itself with mental affinity, but the mind was assailed by ungoverned impacts. Hsi floated in an ebon void, experiencing strange memories and unknown situations-fragments of overflow from other minds, the discard of a conglomerate of intelligences. The backwash of the tremendous cybernetic complex which was the heart of the Cyclan.