“A mentat barrier. Periodically the Network tries to annex Takis by dealing with the mind blind. Rather recently, as we measure time, there was a little spat that we won because Takisians can fight like cornered ferrets when we need to, and to a Master Trader a Pyrrhic victory is bad business. But we also won because we’re telepaths. The Ly’bahr developed this little toy to block our powers.” Tach squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. “They’re reasonably effective because they hurt like hell, but enough sufficiently determined telepaths can punch through it.”

“Can this Zabb guy?” asked Jay.

“No.”

That assurance acted on Trips like a starting gun. Words poured urgently out, and he stuttered in his haste and concern.

“This is c-crazy, Doc. Five years ago this guy tried to kill you. His whole purpose in life is to kill you. You can’t get on a ship with him for a couple of weeks and expect to arrive on Takis with your parts intact.”

“However sincere or insincere the emotion, Zabb wants to be vindicated in the eyes of the Ajayiz. He won’t kill me until I’ve met my part of this bargain.”

“And on Takis?” Mark asked.

“He won’t be on Takis. He’s signed a service contract with the Network. They take their contracts very seriously. Breach one, and they will hunt you to death and beyond. Zabb will deliver us and resume his duties.”

“Forgive me, Doc, but I think you’re being naive.”

“What other choice do I have!” Anger and desperation edged her words like razors.

“Wait for another ship.”

“Don’t you understand anything. I’ve been saying? This is the Network. Everything costs. Everything is extra. If I reject this transport, we’ll have to renegotiate, and the price will only go up. And I suspect I have already sold my soul.”

“What was the price?” asked Trips.

“Open contract, payment to be tendered later.”

“Dumb,” was Jay’s only comment.

“What else was I supposed to do?” She clutched at her temples. “Damn this thing. It hurts.” And she turned away and vomited the contents of her stomach across the powdery white sands.

Trips flipped off the barrier, put his arm supportively around Tach’s shoulders. Jay offered a handkerchief, and she gratefully wiped her mouth.

“Okay, we gotta do it.” Trips shook his head. “We’ve just gotta be awful careful.”

Serious glances all around. Tach gave a sharp nod and started back to Zabb.

“TACHY!” Tom’s voice was stressed as if it had been scored with sandpaper. “I CAN’T……NOT WITHOUT MY SHELL.” Tears blurred the final word.

There was an ache in her throat. Tach crossed to him and pressed her cheek to the cold iron. “Tommy,” she managed.

Mark joined her. He stroked the metal with gentle fingertips as if handling a hurt animal. In some ways he was. “Oh, come on, man. You want it so bad. This is it, Burroughs and Clarke, ‘Doc’ Smith, remember like we talked that night… The Lensmen?”

“I HAVE A SHELL, AND I DON’T… CAN’T TRAVEL WITHOUT IT.”

“Terrific, another cherished illusion blown to hell… the Great and Powerful Turtle is a weenie,” Jay grunted.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Tommy,” Tach said quickly.

“IT’S NOT THAT I’M AFRAID,” Tommy flared. “MY POWERS DON’T WORK WHEN I’M OUTSIDE MY SHELL. I CAN MOVE PENCILS AROUND IF I CONCENTRATE REAL HARD, MAYBE A SMALL ROCK BUT HOW THE HELL IS THAT GOING TO HELP?” To Tachyon he added softly. “I’D JUST BE OF NO USE TO YOU, TACHY.”

“I understand, Tommy, it’s all right.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Turtle blurted, “I WANTED TO GO SO BAD.” The shell rose and flew a few feet away. Suddenly a tall dune flattened beneath the force of Turtle’s grief.

Mark looked seriously down at Tachyon. “We’ve got problems. I gotta sleep sometime. There’s gotta be two of us.”

The thought hit both of them simultaneously. They pivoted slowly to face Jay.

“No, oh no,” said the detective, holding out his hands as if to ward them off and retreating backward a few steps.

“It makes perfect sense,” Mark argued.

“Bullshit it does. You’re asking me to climb on board that spaceship and go to another planet, where you can display me like a prize trout to a bunch of his… her relatives who may all want to kill her, except that I’m supposed to stop them.”

“Yes,” Tach said succinctly. “That sums it up.”

“You’re nuts,” said Jay Ackroyd equally succinctly.

“You can let him down – lots of people have – but the Doc’s always been there for us. He’s going to a dangerous place, and she’s in a tough condition to deal with violence and killing. So, I’m asking you for her. Will you help?” Trips asked.

“Hell, if the crazy Takisians don’t kill me, the fucking pronouns will.” Jay unlimbered a hip flask and took a swig. Jay slapped the cap back onto the flask and thrust it back into his coat pocket. Sauntered over to Tachyon. “Okay, but I get time-and-a-half for other planets.”

Tach couldn’t find a phrase, a word, or an entire army of words crushing enough for the detective. Instead she spun on her heel and returned to Turtle. Laying her cheek against the cold metal shell, she whispered softly, “Goodbye, Tommy.”

“COME BACK.” Even through the distortion of the speakers she could hear his pain. Her throat ached in sympathy.

“I promise.” Whirling she half ran, half staggered through the deep sand until she stood face-to-face with Zabb. “I accept your terms, Trader Captain,” she said with great formality. It served to remind Zabb of his current status. The point was not lost upon the Takisian, but he merely indicated the ramp with his usual graceful courtesy.

“Then let us be off.”

At the foot of the ramp there was a paranoid little quadrille as Zabb tried to get Tachyon and the humans to precede him into the ship.

Tach glowered up at him. “I think not. I want you where I can see you.”

Zabb bowed. “My motivation exactly. You have a most alarmingly attractive derriere.” He shrugged and chuckled at Tach’s smoldering expression. “But pleasure postponed is pleasure savored.”

The quick rap of boot heels, and he was consumed in the brilliant light pouring through the open hatch. Tach drew a breath, squared her shoulders. Mark suddenly turned and waved cheerfully back at Turtle like a happy vacationer about to set sail on a cruise ship. Jay dropped his head briefly into his hand.

Then flanked by her two incongruous paladins, Tachyon entered the enemy ship.

They say the Morakh lack all mentatic skills, but there is a humming in the brain, a shivering along all the nerves, which tells a Morakh that dying is about to start. Durg was feeling it now. He signaled Blaise. There was a widening of the pupils, no more, to indicate he understood. Durg allowed himself a brief moment to hope that Blaise was finally learning subtlety.

Their current danger existed because of Blaise’s phenomenal oratorical skills. The boy had presented his plan for the domination of House Ilkazam. He had spoken as if addressing an auditorium of the Tarhiji, and even the psi lords had been affected. Now Blaise was a danger, and the time for betrayal had come.

L’gura was once more behind his desk. There were three other of the Zal’hma at’ Irg, and Malika, with him. Blaise was seated, facing L’gura. Kelly was on one side, Durg on the other.

“Your groundling ways have some interest, but I think we prefer to handle our affairs in the Takisian manner,” L’gura said.

Durg snapped his fingers, indicating Malika, and then petitioned the ancestors. The woman’s eyes widened in terror. She suddenly ripped her blade loose and, driving it deep into her belly, ripped upward.

Blaise released her and pounced on the shocked Vayawand. Had their defenses been fully in place, he would never have captured them, but they were in total shock – the mudcrawler had controlled a Morakh. Then the three nobles were down, writhing on the floor, slowly suffocating. Durg flashed across the intervening space and yanked Malika’s pistol free, tossed it to Blaise. The boy snatched it out of the air, grabbed Kelly by the arm, jerked the smaller man onto his lap, and tangled the barrel of the gun in the red curls at the Takisian’s temple.