would die.”
“It’s my risk to take!”
“And his as well. His only hope is secrecy, Dannerman, and even so, he has very little chance to survive there. In company with someone as conspicuous as you, he would have no chance at all.”
I said stubbornly, “I’m going to ask Been if I can go along anyway. When will I see him?”
She waved that off impatiently. “Soon. This afternoon, I think, but what is the use of that? He will simply say no.”
“And then I will ask him again, and keep on asking him, until he says yes. This is something I have to do. You don’t understand what it’s like not to be able to do anything for my friends.”
She sighed. “Do I not? I am jealous of the Wet One, too.”
I hadn’t expected to hear that from her. “Because you’d like to try to rescue your own planet?” I guessed.
“Rescue it? But we have no planet anymore, Dannerman. It is long destroyed. Our people no longer exist except as slaves of the Others, countless numbers of them, all over the universe.” She sighed. “No. I am jealous because he has a home to return to.” She paused, fingering her little amulet, and then added somberly, “Even though it is certain that he will see it only long enough to die there.”
I didn’t want to accept what Pirraghiz said, but I couldn’t get rid of the sneaking suspicion that she was right. Did it make any sense for me simply to get myself killed on some planet not even my own? Would it even inconvenience the Beloved Leaders at all?
Logically I had to agree that it would not. But did I have any other way to strike a blow at them? I couldn’t think of any.
I told Pirraghiz to call me when Beert was available and went back to my room, and what I did there was to put on that helmet again. Mrrranthoghrow had selected another set of taps on the bugged people on Earth for me, and I wanted to see them. I think maybe what I had in mind was to remind myself of what the Beloved Leaders were doing to my own people.
It didn’t work that way. The first person I saw was me, and what I was doing was flying out of a transit machine. And when the person whose eyes I was looking through turned, I saw Jimmy Lin and Dopey and a pair of Docs, and Rosaleen Artzybachova and Martin Delasquez and Pat. My Pat. Looking scared and worn and generally shook up, but looking mostly very good indeed to me.
It didn’t take me long to figure out where I was. I was in Starlab, and the bunch of us had just made our escape from the prison planet. It was Patrice who I was eavesdropping on-had to be, because she was the only one of us who was bugged at that time. But it was Pat I wanted to see and touch, and be with.
I didn’t switch to any other file. I stayed with that one. I listened to us congratulating ourselves on having got away from the damn Beloved Leaders, I watched myself destroy the transit machine so we couldn’t be followed, I listened as I-that other Icalled the Bureau on Starlab’s ancient radio and painfully worked out a way of communicating with them that the rest of the world, and especially the Beloved Leaders, might not hear. With all the rest of the gang I got into the rickety old crew-rescue vehicle that had been berthed at Starlab since the last time any astronomer visited it. I stayed with them as its engines fired up and we started the long, bouncing, bucketing drop toward Earth, and I would have stayed a lot longer if I could, in spite of the fact that a suspicion was dawning in my mind.
What stopped me in the end wasn’t that I got tired of seeing Pat, or that that new thought needed to be pursued. It was Pirraghiz. “Dannerman? I have brought you some food. And Beert is here now, if you want to see him.”
I took the helmet off and blinked at her. She was taking little fruits and biscuits out of a coppery mesh bag and laying them before it. I ignored them. “Didn’t you tell me that the transit machine on Starlab wasn’t working anymore?”
She blinked back at me. “Why, yes, Dannerman. That is so.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said-the other possibility having been that that other Dannerman hadn’t done as thorough a job of destruction as he thought. “All right, let’s go. I want to see Beert right away.”
“To ask him if you can throw your life away with the Wet One? At least take the meal with you,” she said, scooping it all back into the bag. As she handed it to me she said, “It is a foolish idea, and he will surely say no.”
“You might be right,” I agreed. “But maybe I have a better idea now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
When I knocked on the laboratory door Beert let me in at once. “Look here,” he said, neck and arms awriggle. “I have taken your advice. Give me one of the ammunition carriers.”
That last part was aimed at his Christmas tree, not me. The thing was hovering over a workbench, littered with the usual cryptic array of gadgets. The robot immediately picked one up and brought it over to hand to Beert. Who handed it happily to me. It was heavy. It was also streamlined and curved, like the other things Beert was attaching to the Wet One, and it had the same clamp arrangement to hold it in place. Which meant, I thought, that the Wet One would have had more sockets carved into his flesh. I admired his dedication. “See,” Beert was saying proudly, reaching to touch the thing in my hand, “this release will fit the Wet One’s digits. It is this button here; he needs only to touch it and it flies open.” Beert did. It did, revealing half a dozen gleaming clips for the twenty-shot. “Also there are eight sixteens of additional clips and several others of the projectile weapons in those containers there-“ gesturing at a pair of oblong boxes of that same rubbery material-“but those he will not be able to carry with him. Perhaps he can hide them somewhere, and come back to them when they are needed.”
His little head was close to mine, the curly eyelashes fluttering excitedly. He was waiting for a compliment, I thought, so I obliged. “That’s fine,” I said, and glanced at the hovering robot. “Can you turn that thing off?” I asked.
Beert pulled his head away to regard me. “But I have told you, Dan, there is nothing to fear from this machine-“
I reached out and caught his neck, pulling his head toward me so that I could whisper. “I want to ask you about
