Titus dug his boot toes into the floor and charged, leaping onto a console and pushing off in a flying tackle, ignoring the anticipatory twinge in his bruised shoulder.

He hit, and the two of them tumbled, bounced, and rolled in the narrow space between screens and desk. Titus tried one of Suzy Langton’s low-grav moves, and marveled when he ended up on top. Abbot grunted, heaved, and sent Titus flying over the round desk. Arms flailing, he crashed into a display panel, which cracked behind him.

He got to his knees, searching for the black casing of the transmitter amid the glittering electronics. That was his target, not Abbot. He spotted it, nested inside a cavity in the desk where the panel had been removed to expose the works behind the keyboards. Titus figured that had to be the board connected to the console back in the observatory, which meant it was the masterboard that could control everything here.

Then Abbot’s Influence engulfed him like a clenched fist. His muscles locked, leaving him half crouched.

Getting to his feet with an air of utter finality, Abbot plugged in his black cable again, and resumed settling the transmitter into place, suitgloves making him fumble. At the edge of Titus’s field of view, the screens showed the landing field, where the bombers were now settling down amid clouds of dust and small rocks.

Titus gathered his power tightly about himself. I’ve got to move. I’ve got to break this. He recalled the moment in the lavatory on Goddard when he’d turned his hand over despite Abbot’s will. Fixing on the black lump of the transmitter now just barely visible, he strained forward against the force that held him. The barrier’s in my own mind. It’s human to suffer divided will.

He summoned the image of Earth overrun, humans taken away to slavery under Tourist Influence, used the way Mirelle had been used. A blast furnace deep within his soul opened and his will fed on outrage.

“They’ll never buy it,” he said, his voice rusty.

Abbot jerked around then fiddled with his suit frequency. He hadn’t heard the comment, but only felt the crack in his control of Titus. Now that Abbot was on Titus’s frequency, Titus could hear the distant chatter of the blockaders Abbot was monitoring through the suitjack.

“. convoy! It’ll get too damn close. Let’s go!”

Titus’s arms knotted with strain, and he thought he felt movement. To distract Abbot further, he grated out words. “You can’t sell humans as slaves to the galaxy.”

Again, Abbot seemed startled. “So you got into Mirelle’s calculator. Such a son to be proud of if only. Well, no matter. It’s too late, Titus. I’ve won.”

“They don’t want us-or our dreams-loose in their galactic war.” Titus moved a step forward.

Abbot turned from his work, and Titus felt the whole of his father’s strength come to focus on him. He strained against it. His front foot shuffled forward. A trick of the lighting gave him a glimpse of Abbot’s face through his helmet, mouth twisted with strain.

Distantly, Titus sensed the flavor of H’lim’s power wafting through the hut. Abbot’s attention flickered to counter the luren, but H’lim was too weak to affect the struggle, except that now Titus was able to pull his trailing foot up. He had taken a step. Filled with the triumph of that, he jerked his right arm forward, reaching toward the transmitter, like a badly articulated robot.

“Don’t make me kill you,” said Abbot, voice betraying nothing of the expression on his face. His hand reached out for a tool lying on the console-a laser cutter. He started toward Titus. “What sort of nonsense has H’lim been selling you that you’d turn against your own blood?” He stopped with the laser cutter inches from Titus’s chest. j

“Humans are of my blood, too. And so is H’lim.” Titus managed another step, angling toward the console, not Abbot, daring him to use the cutter.

As he shifted angle, a movement on a screen caught his eye. Titus turned to see H’lim scrambling up the trail to the top of the rim. The four blockaders abandoned the approach to the hut and went after him. Abbot’s suitphones relayed the tiny voices cursing and guessing who they were chasing. But even when he reached the deep shadow, H’lim was hurting. He’ll never make it without Influence!

Abbot followed Titus’s gaze. “The fool! Doesn’t he know he can go to a final death in that solar flux?”

“H’lim’s more of a tourist here than you, and he doesn’t want to see war roll over Earth and leave it a cinder.”

“What does that stock breeder, who has never been honest with us, and has often been wrong, and whose knowledge is way out of date, know of current galactic politics? Or of the desperate situation we face on Earth?”

Titus asked, “We? And what of Earth’s humans? What will happen to them if we summon the galaxy’s-”

“You believe that dreaming crap?” Abbot interrupted. “This isn’t that planet, if it exists at all.”

You didn’t see Kylyd’s astrogation room! thought Titus. A technology that uses imagination to steer a starship could easily send information via dreams and telepathy, or concoct a law for the conservation of volition. “Listen, Abbot, it doesn’t matter whether this is the only planet where people dream. My mission is to prevent you from violating a World Sovereignties decision to prevent the galaxy from discovering Earth’s position. So I took the transmitter from the probe, and the other from the observatory.

“I never thought you’d find it before transmitting the ballistics data. If I had, I’d never have involved you in the scheme.” There was genuine admiration in Abbot’s voice.

“Involved me?” Titus pushed forward. The screen showed the four blockaders approaching the hut, deployed for a fight. H’lim got away! From a distance, the luren’s Influence flickered around the men and one fell, the others stopping to help him up. Weakened now, H’lim couldn’t hold them, and when they arrived, Abbot wouldn’t be able to control everyone and still finish his work. Gotta delay.

Abbot ignited the laser. “When I decided to use the Array, I needed a legitimate signal to cover mine, and I chose your scheme of bringing up cargotainers. It wasn’t hard. We have most of the key decision makers controlled. It won’t be much more difficult to take over after World Sovereignties is overthrown.”

Titus’s will flagged. It had all been Abbot’s doing! Abbot’s grip on him tightened, triumph blossoming.

Off to the side, Inea popped up and hurled something small, bright, and glinting, at Titus. “Catch!”

Abbot swiveled to face her, the glowing laser still pointed at Titus but his Influence freezing her into a statue that tumbled over grotesquely.

Reflexively, Titus’s gloved hand intercepted the object. A great, sweet light burst through his nerves. Inaudible sound penetrated his spirit. The silver glint of the crucifix reflected all the colored displays, sparking and whirling deep into Titus’s being. It was weaker than before and had a different texture, but there was a sublime energy, collimated and coherent enough to break him free of Abbot’s grip.

Inea gasped, “I don’t believe it. You can’t make me see Titus as a monster! You can’t!”

Abbot staggered back from Titus. Never before had he been effectively defied by a human. Titus wanted to grapple for the laser cutter, to jump in and save Inea. Instead, he lunged for the transmitter. His right hand closed on it as Abbot whirled and brandished the cutter at Inea’s throat. Influence pounded into her. He spat, “Don’t!”

Titus froze, gripping the casing. “Abbot! She’s mine!”

“Touch that rig, and you forfeit life and stringer.”

It was legal, from Abbot’s point of view. He had documented proof that Titus might be feral. Only a feral would turn against the Blood and rip out the transmitter.

Inea struggled, exerting an amazing force against Abbot’s will, and he had to grab her physically to control her. “What have you taught this one?”