" I am Cosmic Traveler," he announced, and then paused as if awaiting a fanfare. Asta and Tom stared at him, fascinated. "That ridiculous little man has sent me here to ascertain the whereabouts of our captors, and to inform you that he is concocting some, no doubt utterly unworkable and highly dangerous, escape plan."

Asta wriggled forward on the bed, rising silkily onto her knees. "You can move at will through the ship," she whispered. "Can you also return to Earth?"

"Yes."

She stretched out her arms, the bones of her clavicle etched beneath the white skin. "Would you be willing to take me with you?" she purred.

Tom wanted to point out to her that first, what made her think the man was telling her the truth? and second, even if he could withstand the cold and vacuum of space, how was he going to take her?

She arched her swanlike neck, and lifted her hair with her hands. The gestures forced her small, upright bosoms against the leotard, the nipples hard knobs beneath the thin material.

"I can be very generous to people who help me, and my employer might be able to make an interesting offer to a man of your unique abilities."

The total incongruity of the situation left Tom breathless. He wondered if this woman was really going to shuck it, and screw with this stranger right before his wondering eyes.

Surely the man would realize that more pressing matters were facing them. But Cosmic Traveler was going for it in a big way. Asta's gyrations had set him to panting, and his fingers were working spasmodically at his sides. He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder toward the door, and Tom saw lust and fear battling it out on his smooth blue face. Lust won.

With a breathy "I agree." that was half groan and half words, he tottered to the edge of the bed. Asta was already stripping out of her blue jeans. Beneath them she wore pale pink tights. They and the leotard were quickly removed, and she held out her arms. Traveler collapsed with a moan onto her thin, white body, and they began frenzied foreplay.

Tom, embarrassed yet fascinated, noticed (with that strange attention to detail that seems to arise whenever one is in an acutely uncomfortable position) that her feet were very ugly. The toes were covered with sores and calluses, and one big toe was bruised black from the constant pounding of the toe shoe.

Ten minutes later they were still at it, Asta, with increasing irritation, saying "Come on! Come on!" Harsh, grunting sounds periodically erupted from Traveler as his blue ass pumped virgorously, and with increasing desperation, up and down, up and down.

The ring of a boot heel pulled a gasp from Asta, followed by a wild shriek as Traveler sank through her prone body, and vanished into the depths of the bed. Tom, too, almost lost it, and he rushed to the bed to ascertain if Asta was still alive. She was lying deathly still, and he reached out and touched one bare shoulder. She shrieked again, and Tom, startled by the outburst, lost his balance and pitched headfirst onto the bed. The Takisian goggled at the bed, then yelled, "Captain, he was-" The closing of the door cut off the rest of his words. Cosmic Traveler returned.

"Well! I sincerely hope you don't have to serve as a sex toy for Takisians. You're singularly lacking in the most rudimentary erotic skills."

"Me!" yelped Asta, shoving Tom away. "You're the one who couldn't get it-"

"And what are you sniggering at, you tubby little man," roared Traveler. Tom hadn't sniggered, not really, but the ludicrousness of the situation had drawn a sound from him.

"Do you know what they have planned for you?" Traveler continued, "Vivisection! Do you know what that means? I can't imagine why they seized you. You must be the most paltry of aces. Shaking like a bowl of Jell-O, and sniveling like a reluctant virgin." He shot a smoldering and resentful glance toward Asta, who threw him a bird.

Tom exploded. "Would you just get the fuck out of here! Fuck off! You think you're so fucking smart, but you're stuck too, just like the rest of us. You can't get off this ship. If you could, you would have. Now get out. Get out!" Tom charged at him, waving his arms wildly about like a man shooing chickens. Traveler went, his features looking decidedly curdled.

"Where the hell have you been?" Tachyon halted his nervous perambulations. "How long does it take to scout out a ship-" Traveler, halfway through the cabin wall, began to withdraw. Tachyon rushed forward. "No, please wait. I'm sorry. The stress… What did you find out?"

"Our captors are charging about the ship in pursuit of me. Though I can't imagine how they are tracking me. They'll no doubt be here soon-"

"And my Kibr? The old woman with the jewels in her hair," he explained at Traveler's blank look.

"I haven't a notion."

Tach held his tongue, deciding that Benaf'saj's whereabouts were perhaps not all that important.

"All right, never mind, we'll try it. To the left of the cabin doors there is a small protuberance on the wall. That is an override panel for the doors. Open mine, and then we'll-"

"No."

"I beg your…" he began politely, then stopped and rumbled, "What?"

"You heard me, I said no. I have not the slightest faith in your ability to successfully execute this escape plan, and I will not be a party to it. Besides, as I stand substantial and helpless outside your door, those thugs will come upon me, and harm me. "

"It will only take an instant."

Traveler folded his arms across his chest, and stared majestically at the far wall. "No."

"Please?"

"No."

Tachyon folded his hands at his breast. "Please, please, please?"

"No. "

"You whining, groveling coward!" bellowed Tach. "You're endangering all of us. You're the only one-"

But Traveler was leaving. Tachyon leaped for a wall niche, pulled down a beautiful Membres vase, and launched it at the rapidly departing ace. It passed through him, smashed into the wall, and Traveler gave him a look of withering contempt and loathing. The entire incident left Tach shaking; partly with anger, partly with despair over his violent reaction. He untied his lace cravat, and yanked open his collar, gasping for air. He had tried so hard over the years to put such responses behind him, to deal gently and kindly with all people. And he had lost it all. He was behaving like… He paused, searching for some appropriately disgusting comparison.

Like Zabb.

This brief indulgence in self-castigation felt good, but it didn't remove the primary problem. They were up a creek without the proverbial paddle.

And this too is my fault, thought Tach without pausing to consider whether any amount of bribery or cajoling might have moved the recalcitrant ace.

His hour was almost gone. Raging against the vagaries of an unkind and uncaring universe that had left him trapped within the body of man he considered little better than a vegetable, he wandered through the Takisian ship dodging increasingly hysterical search parties. But this could not last. If he delayed he would revert to that moron Meadows, and the aliens might harm him. And however much Traveler might despise his host body, he realized that without Mark there was no life. He had noticed that doorways left faint lines on the walls like the fossilized imprint of ancient flower petals. Some opened automatically, others seemed to require a telepathic command, and still others used the access panels that Tachyon had described. He went in search of one that would not open automatically. One that seemed firmly and soundly locked from the outside.

Mark returned to himself slowly. And blinked… and blinked again, because it was dark. His hands roamed fitfully over his face and head until he had fully assured himself of his consciousness. But it was still dark. He shuffled forward, and ran his long nose firmly into a wall. Holding his bumped nose with one hand he stared out into the stygian darkness. Slowly. he stretched out his arms, exploring the dimensions of his prison. It was small. Closet-size. Coin-sized.