"Defense knows the whereabouts of witness Keila Jedrik."

They were forcing the question, aware of the emotional bond between McKie and Jedrik.  He had a choice:  argue that a personal relationship with the witness excluded her.  But Prosecution and all the judges had to concur.  They obviously would not do this - not yet.  A harsh lock on his emotions, McKie gave the jumpdoor instructions.

Presently, Jedrik stepped onto the arena floor, faced the judges.  She'd been into the wardrobe at his bower cottage and wore a yellow and orange sarong which emphasized her height and grace.  Open brown sandals protected her feet.  There was a flame red blossom at her left ear.  She managed to look exotic and fragile.

Broey spoke for the judges.

"Do you have knowledge of the issues at trial here?"

"What issues are at trial?"

She asked it with a childlike innocence which did not even fool Bildoon.  They were forced to explain, however, because of those other judges to whom every nuance here was vital.  She heard them out in silence.

"An alleged experiment on a sentient population confined to a planet called Dosadi . . . lack of informed consent by subject population charged . . . accusations of conspiracy against certain Gowachin and others not yet named . . ."

Two fingers pressed to his eyes in the guise of intense listening, McKie made contact with Jedrik, suggesting, conferring.  They had to find a way out of this trap!  When he looked up, he saw the suspicions in Parando's face:  Which body, which ego?  McKie?  Jedrik?

In the end, Ceylang hammered home the private message, demanding whether Jedrik had "any personal relationship with Defense Legum?"

Jedrik answered in a decidedly un-Dosadi fashion.

"Why . . . yes.  We are lovers."

In itself, this was not enough to exclude her from the arena unless Prosecution and the entire judicial panel agreed.  Ceylang proposed the exclusion.  Bildoon and Parando were predictable in their agreement.  McKie waited for Broey.

"Agreed."

Broey had a private compact with the shadow forces then.  Jedrik and McKie had expected this, but had not anticipated the form confirmation would take.

McKie asked for a recess until the following morning.

With the most benign face on it, this was granted.  Broey announced the decision, smiling down at Jedrik.  It was a measure of McKie's Dosadi conditioning that he could not find it in himself to blame Broey for wanting personal victory over the person who had beaten him on Dosadi.

Back in his quarters, Jedrik put a hand on McKie's chest, spoke with eyes lowered.

"Don't blame yourself, McKie.  This was inevitable.  Those judges, none of them, would've allowed any protest from you before seeing me in person on that arena floor."

"I know."

She looked up at him, smiling.

"Yes . . . of course.  How like one person we are."

For a time after that, they reviewed the assessment of the aides chosen for Broey.  Shared memories etched away at minutiae.  Could any choice be improved?  Not one person was changed - Human or Gowachin.  All of those advisors and aides were Dosadi-born.  They could be depended upon to be loyal to their origins, to their conditioning, to themselves individually.  For the task assigned to them, they were the best available.

McKie brought it to a close.

"I can't leave the immediate area of the arena until the trial's over."

She knew that, but it needed saying.

There was a small cell adjoining his office, a bedog there, communications instruments, Human toilet facilities.  They delayed going into the bedroom, turned to a low-key argument over the advisability of a body exchange.  It was procrastination on both sides, outcome known in advance.  Familiar flesh was familiar flesh, less distracting.  It gave each of them an edge which they dared not sacrifice.  McKie could play Jedrik and Jedrik could play McKie, but that would be dangerous play now.

When they retired, it was to make love, the most tender experience either had known.  There was no submission, only a giving, sharing, an open exchange which tightened McKie's throat with joy and fear, sent Jedrik into a fit of un-Dosadi sobbing.

When she'd recovered, she turned to him on the bed, touched his right cheek with a finger.

"McKie."

"Yes?"

"I've never had to say this to another person, but . . ."  She silenced his attempted interruption by punching his shoulder, leaning up on an elbow to look down at him.  It reminded McKie of their first night together, and he saw that she had gone back into her Dosadi shell . . . but there was something else, a difference in the eyes.

"What is it?"

"Just that I love you.  It's a very interesting feeling, especially when you can admit it openly.  How odd."

"Stay here with me."

"We both know I can't.  There's no safe place here for either of us, but the one who . . ."

"Then let's . . ."

"We've already decided against an exchange."

"Where will you go?"

"Best you don't know."

"If . . ."

"No! I wouldn't be safe as a witness; I'm not even safe at your side.  We both . . ."

"Don't go back to Dosadi."

"Where is Dosadi?  It's the only place where I could ever feel at home, but Dosadi no longer exists."

"I meant . . ."

"I know."

She sat up, hugged her knees, revealing the sinewy muscles of her shoulders and back.  McKie studied her, trying to fathom what it was she hid in that Dosadi shell.  Despite the intimacy of their shared memories, something about her eluded him.  It was as though he didn't want to learn this thing.  She would flee and hide, of course, but . . .  He listened carefully as she began to speak in a faraway voice.

"It'd be interesting to go back to Dosadi someday.  The differences . . ."

She looked over her shoulder at him.

"There are those who fear we'll make over the ConSentiency in Dosadi's image.  We'll try, but the result won't be Dosadi.  We'll take what we judge to be valuable, but that'll change Dosadi more than it changes you.  Your masses are less alert, slower, less resourceful, but you're so numerous.  In the end, the ConSentiency will win, but it'll no longer be the ConSentiency.  I wonder what it'll be when . . ."

She laughed at her own musings, shook her head.

"And there's Broey.  They'll have to deal with Broey and the team we've given him.  Broey Plus!  Your ConSentiency hasn't the faintest grasp of what we've loosed among them."

"The predator in the flock."

"To Broey, your people are like the Rim - a natural resource."

"But he has no Pcharkys."

"Not yet."

"I doubt if the Calebans ever again will participate in . . ."

"There may be other ways. Look how easy it is for us."

"But we were printed upon each other by . . ."

"Exactly!  And they continue to suspect that you're in my body and I'm in yours.  Their entire experience precludes the free shift back and forth, one body to another . . ."

"Or this other thing . . ."

He caressed her mind.

"Yes!  Broey won't suspect until too late what's in store for him.  They'll be a long time learning there's no way to sort you from . . . me!"

This last was an exultant shout as she turned and fell upon him.  It was a wild replay of their first night together.  McKie abandoned himself together.  McKie abandoned himself to it.  There was no other choice, no time for the mind to dwell on depressing thoughts.

In the morning, he had to tap his implanted amplifiers to bring his awareness to the required pitch for the arena.  The process took a few minutes while he dressed.

Jedrik moved softly with her own preparations, straightened the bedog and caressed its resilient surface.  She summoned a jumpdoor then, held him with a lingering kiss.  The jumpdoor opened behind her as she pushed away from him.