"You do whatever you want," Liadof bit out. "The charge stands. Take him away."

Silently, the two men headed for the door. As he passed Faraday, Sprenkle's eyes flicked sideways, just for an instant, to meet his. Faraday opened his mouth, wondering what he was going to say—

Sprenkle's eyes flicked away again. Still in silence, he and the cop left the room.

"Now," Liadof said, her quiet voice filling the stunned emptiness like a mass of subzero air. "Mr.

Beach, if you please. Get him moving."

Beach took a deep breath. "Yes, Arbiter," he said. "Right away."

"It's all in your mind, Raimey. It's all in your mind."

"It's all in your mind?" Drusni echoed, sounding bewildered. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Raimey said slowly, thinking furiously. That had been Sprenkle's voice, he recognized now. And from the flurry of angry conversation he could vaguely hear in the background, it seemed that someone up on Prime wasn't at all happy with the psychologist for saying it.

Which meant it was some kind of clue. Possibly even a clue to this control they had over him.

But what?

He growled under his breath, wishing to the Deep that Sprenkle hadn't tried to be so coy with his hint. He'd probably hoped whoever was in charge would miss the significance of it. But from the shouting that had followed, clearly that had been a waste of effort.

But just as clearly, he'd expected Raimey to get the message. It's all in your mind. It's all in your...

And then, suddenly, Raimey felt his aching muscles stiffen. Of course. It's all in your mind—the favorite catchphrase of his Psychological Advertising Techniques 101 professor. The professor who had instructed them about the use of subliminals, keywords, semantic triggers, and cultural progressions in the world of advertising.

"You were right," he told Drusni. "It's not any kind of gadget they put into my brain. It's been put into my mind."

"I don't understand," Drusni said, flicking her tails in confusion. "What's the difference?"

"My physical brain isn't the same one I had when I came here," Raimey said stumbling over the words in his haste. He could feel the sense of light-headedness starting to fade in on him. Whoever was playing puppet with him seemed to have won the argument, and the strings were starting to tighten again. "But they knew my mind and personality would remain even after all the cells had changed," he went on. "So what they did was implant some kind of subliminal commands and triggers in my subconscious mind. Now they're using them to take control of my body."

"But it's your own mind," Drusni protested. "Why can't you make them stop?"

Raimey sighed. "Because no matter what I look like on the outside, at the center I'm still human," he told her. "My thoughts, my emotions—all of them are human. And it's through that emotional matrix that they're controlling me."

Drusni didn't reply. Probably didn't understand a word of what he'd said. Raimey could feel his muscles starting to twitch now: The control words being sent and received, if he remembered Professor Negandhi's lectures correctly. A few more ninepulses, and he would again be charging up to try to fight off the Protectors again.

"All right," Drusni said suddenly. "You say it's because you're not Qanskan enough that these words have strength over you. All right. What would it take to make you more Qanskan?"

"What do you mean?" Raimey asked, frowning.

"We need to make you a true and complete Qanska," she repeated. "Or at least enough of one that their tricks won't work anymore. What can we do?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. "It's too late. I might as well let the humans take me up there and get it over with."

"No," Drusni said fiercely. "I won't accept that. You're my friend, Manta. I'm not going to just give you up. Not to them."

Raimey's heart was starting to ache again, the way it had hurt for all the ninedays since her rejection of him so long ago. But this time the ache had a strange and bittersweet richness to it instead of the hollow emptiness that had haunted him for so long. "Thank you," he said softly, reaching over to stroke her fin with his. "I guess in my determination to have you for my bond-mate, I forgot how good it was to simply have you for a friend."

His fin twitched away from her of its own accord. "It's started," he said tightly. "This is it. If they can't stop me any other way... would you say good-bye to Pranlo for me? And tell him I'm sorry?"

"No," Drusni said, her voice suddenly grim and determined. "Not yet."

"What?" Raimey asked, frowning. His fins spread wide, his tails started to beat the air, and he found himself swimming up again toward the cage above.

"I said not yet," Drusni repeated. She caught up with him, turning her distended belly toward his.

"We're not giving up yet." She maneuvered closer, pressing her belly against his—

And with a horrified shock, Raimey realized what she had in mind. "Drusni!" he gasped. "What are you doing?"

"You said your emotions were human," she said, her voice shaking with fear and desperation and dark resolve. "All right. Maybe there's a way to give you a big enough run of Qanskan emotion to push those other emotions away."

"No," Raimey pleaded. She was maneuvering into position now; and he, with his useless body, could do nothing to stop her. "This is wrong, Drusni. It's wrong. Please—it's not worth it. Please. Don't worry, I won't be able to stop the Protectors anyway."

"I'm not worried about you stopping the Protectors," she said. "They'll do what they have to. So will I."

"It's not worth it," Raimey said again, his whole body shaking as a twin wave of anticipation and dread washed over him. He'd wanted this so badly... but not like this. Clouds above, Deep below, not like this. "All you're going to do is hurt yourself."

"Or maybe I can save a friend." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Here we go...."

And as their bodies joined, the wave of emotion became an overwhelming hurricane, whipping through Raimey's heart and mind and soul with an ecstasy that was as alien as it was powerful. It was like everything he'd ever wanted, all swirled together in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and tingling tastes and ringing sounds. Impossible to describe or explain; possible only to experience. He wanted to laugh, to sing, to shout.

And to cry.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have the faintest idea what's going on," Beach said, waving his hands helplessly as he looked back and forth between his displays. "All I know is that none of these tonals he's babbling are translating."

"Is she still holding on to him?" Liadof asked.

"Looks like it," Milligan said. "Hard to see, though—they're stirring the air something fierce."

"She's trying to keep him away from the cage," Liadof decided. "Well, let her try. Mr. Beach, move him straight down, then circle him back up again toward Omega."

"Yes, ma'am," Beach sighed, tapping keys on the McCarthy board. "I'll try."

"What do you mean, you'll try?" Liadof demanded sharply. "You'll do it. Or you'll end up like Dr.

Sprenkle and Ms. McCollum."

"All I'm saying is that it may not be possible," Beach said. "He's supposed to be heading for the cage already, only he isn't. But I can try it again."

For a long minute the only sound in the room was the dull rhythmic thudding of the Protectors as they slammed themselves into the side of the Omega probe. "The keywords have been sent, and the order's been given," Beach said at last. "Tom? Any movement?"

"Nope," Milligan said, shaking his head. "And Drusni isn't exactly pinning him to the mat, either. He could get away from her if he really wanted to."

"That's it, then," Faraday said, trying to keep the pleased relief out of his voice. The Qanska were still trapped in Liadof's cage, but at least Raimey was finally free of her control. In a battle like this, you took your victories where you could get them. "He's broken it."