“To the star where I found you.”

“Is this a game?” Rafe’s heart was beating hard. “Why? Why do that?”

“A capsule with a beacon. They’ll pick you up, so this mind believes.”

“Why go to the trouble?”

“Why not? Harm to me? I don’t think they could.”

“You’re lying.”

There was long silence. “I understand your caution. Believe me. I do understand.”

“More humor.”

The mouth—his own—quirked up in a touch of mirth. “It doesn’t depend on your belief anyway.”

“You mean you’ll do what you like.”

“Aaaaiiiiiiiiii!”The sound began from far away; it roared closer and closer, speakers coming alive right overhead and fading away again, lightning-fast, blinding pain that hit and left: Rafe leaped up, trembling in its wake.

“Is that for effect?”

“That one’s mad,” the doppelganger said. “And a little upset right now. Don’t let it trouble you.”

“Sure. Sure I won’t. Cheap trick, hear? Like all the rest. Real cheap.”

“I’ll leave now. Something wants my attention. A minor thing. But I’ll put in somewhere soon at a human port and drop you off. Don’t worry for the jump drugs. I don’t know the composition of what you take. You don’t. But I can make you sleep; that should be enough.”

“Why does it matter? You’ve killed two people, damn you! Why does it matter now?”

“Because it’s easy,” the doppelganger said, and faded out altogether.

“Why?”he yelled after it until his voice cracked. He fell down into the chair, being alone again, in the silence. “Rafe?” he said aloud, querulously, hoping for the old one, the friendly one. “Jillan.” And last and with least hope: “Paul?”

No one answered. No one came. He was scared finally, finally terrified for himself, sitting and staring at nothing at all.

Going home, he thought. With human beings. Living ones. He did not believe it. He did not believe it loved. He did not believe it told the truth at all, or that it cared.

But there remained the possibility.

There remained the greater likelihood it had other motives. And it wore a human shape and used a human mind.

“Paul,” </> said, having penetrated the barriers <> had imposed about the stranger, having, momentarily, seized control of that territory. “Paul.”

And </> took the Rafe-image on </> self.

“You’re awake,” Paul said. “You’re awake.”

“Paul,” </> said, getting to </>’s human feet. “Paul.” </> had that word down pat. </> snatched Paul in </>’s borrowed arms and carried him rapidly out through barriers, along passages.

Paul screamed, and stopped screaming, simply clinging to what he feared, a logic that </>, in Rafe’s mind, understood with curious poignancy.

<> was too late to prevent the theft.

<> simply recreated the Paul-simulacrum of which <> had been robbed and left him asleep in a safer place, far inside <>’s boundaries.

Paul was not a serious loss. Paul had never adjusted and likely never would, but <> was still nettled.

“<> wish you success,” <> taunted </>, for <> had shed the Rafe-mind and felt differently about many things.

There was a division in Trishanamarandu-kepta. It had happened long ago. There was a place where </> did very much as </> pleased; and another where <> was the law. This was an agreement they had, one which made diversions, and <> cherished those.

Slowly, as <>’s humor improved, <> found a sense of ironical amusement in the theft, for the Paul-entity was unstable; and the Rafe-one had been unwaked and was now vastly disturbed. One did not intrude into a simulacrum and leave it intact.

“Do something,” <^> mourned.

“<> have,” <> said, for <> was still controlling the moves: </> had, being flawed, acquired two flawed entities, one flawed by nature, the other by invasion.

The important two were safe.

<> was awake again. All the way.

And the passengers scurried this way and that in panic, examining old alliances and likely advantage.

Only ((())) ranged the passages, wailing in ((()))’s madness. Perhaps only ((()))’s lower mind was left; perhaps some memory remained, what side ((())) had taken once. “Aaaaiiiieeeee,” ((())) cried. “Help us, help us all! O strangers, rescue us!”

“Paul,” Rafe said, who was not-Rafe, and something very strong.

Paul lay still and stared, heaving for breath in the all-enveloping dark while Rafe changed into something huge and slightly blurred. Paul flinched at this transformation and started to twist away, but Rafe’s touch was gentle, very easy, on his shoulder.

“You’re not him,” Paul said, and his own voice seemed very distant in his ears, as if he had been drugged. Everything seemed far.

“You’re safe,” it told him, which he wanted now desperately to hear. “You’re safe with me.” The strangeness had gotten to the all-enveloping point and battered at his mind; and just when it was at its worst, it promised him safety and protection. He was ready to believe.

“I have you,” the blurred shape said. The voice was Rafe’s, but strange and deep, like a motor running. “You’re very safe in my company. You don’t have to worry while I’m here.”

He let it hold him like a child. The voice sank to be one vast burr that filled everything, replaced everything. It touched him, mother-gentle, spoke to him in a language eloquent of protection; and he shut his eyes, trusting finally, because he could only sustain the fear so long in such closeness, in an existence in which he could not tire or sleep: the voice went on and on.

“Let go,” it hummed, “listen to me. You’re safe.”

“I’m dead,” he said. “What’s safe in that?”

“Not dead. Not truly. Not at all. You exist. You can come and go at will. You have long life ahead of you; and a comfortable one, with me. Be still, be quiet, rest. Nothing can reach you in my heart.”

“We don’t get hungry,” Jillan said. “I could wish we got hungry. I miss—” She shook her head and stopped, wisely.

Rafe stared at her bleakly, remembering many things he missed. At length he got up and tried the barrier again. It still held and he came and sat down again, letting his shoulders fall. There was no pretending with Jillan. Finally they had passed all embarrassment, all other pretenses; he was naked inside and out with Rafe and stopped minding: now he could be that way with Jillan, at least in most things.

“Beats station life,” he said, which was an old joke with them, that anything did. Even dying.

“Got ourselves a ship,” she said, rising to it valiantly, but the grief never left her eyes. Paul, Paul, Paul,they said, wrath and divided loyalties.

“Got ourselves a big one,” he said.

“What we have to do,” she said, “we find our way to controls—in our android shapes—and then we take this thing.”

“Deal,” he said.

But they sat there, with a barrier about them. With Paul missing, and neither of them made guesses about Paul.

He’ll find a way to rescue us,Rafe thought, trying to convince himself. He’s still loose, he’s smart—So’s Rafe—without modesty. But Paul can move through the ship....

Maybe it’s taking Paul apart now.

“Idea,” said Jillan.

“What?”

“Rafe. They’re keeping Rafe locked up. That means he could do damage.”

“They’re keeping us locked up, too,” he said, and they turned that thought over separately for a moment.

“Huh,” she said, his Ma’am; his number One, his crew.

“I’ll make you a present of this ship,” he said.

“That’s the Old Man talking,” she said, seeming to take heart. “You do that, Rafe. Let’s find something to break, when we get out of here.”