something I don’t want the cousins to hear. I don’t want that thing listening.”
Beert went suddenly tense. He didn’t pull away, as he easily could have, and I felt his warm breath on my face as he thought that over. “This robot does not interface with the others, as I have told you.”
“Please, Beert.”
He sighed. “Go into inactive mode,” he ordered the Christmas tree. Then to me, warningly, “Dan, you recall what the Greatmother said to us. We do not agree with the cousins in all things, but they are still Horch.”
“I don’t want to harm the cousins. I just want a favor from you, and I think it is better if they don’t know about it.” I hesitated, looking at the Christmas tree, needles retracted, immobile-but could it still hear? I had to hope not. So I began. “Check me out on this, Beert. When the Wet One goes he won’t be heading for his home planet; he’ll be going to something they call a ‘nexus,’ where there are all sorts of channels that belong to the Others.”
“Yes?”
“That’s true, then? And another thing. When I was using the helmet I saw something funny,” I went on. “I was in Patrice’s mind, and we were in Starlab. I saw myself destroy the transit machine there. But I didn’t lose contact even after it was destroyed. I think that means that there’s another transit machine somewhere nearby that’s still working-I don’t know where. Maybe in the scout ship that found Earth in the first place? But still working, anyway, and somehow or other you’re still tapping into that channel, I guess from this nexus.”
“Yes, yes,” Beert said testily. “I suppose all that is so, but I still do not know what favor you want of me.”
And then he took a deep breath, because Beert was not a stupid being. By then he did know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It took a lot of persuasion, and he fought me all the way. “Transmit you to this scout ship? But you do not know for sure even that it exists! The one that visited your planet’s system may be long gone on some other errand.”
“Or,” I said doggedly, “it may not. At least there’s some sort of contact, and what else could it be?”
“Oh, Dan,” he said, sorrowful though sympathetic, “do you know what you ask? I do not believe the cousins would permit it.”
“That’s why I don’t want them to know about it. But I give you my word, I mean no harm at all to the cousins.”
“What about harm to yourself? A ship of the Others is not like your tiny Starlab orbiter. Such ships are quite large, and they are well guarded. There will be fighters of the Others standing by at the transit machine, watchful that they may be invaded by the cousins as this base was.”
“I know. Pirraghiz told me all about the Others’ ships.”
“Then you also know that they will kill you as soon as you appear.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I can kill them first.”
“More likely you cannot, Dan,” he scoffed. “You? Alone against well-armed fighters?”
“Oh,” I said, “we Earth people have a pretty good combat record. Pirraghiz said so herself.”
He waggled his neck at me reprovingly, then tried a different tack. “And even if they do not kill you, what can you accomplish? Do you think you can simply leap through space from the scout ship to your planet?”
“Whatever I can do, it will be more than I can do sitting here in your jail.”
That silenced him for a moment. “I do not think of myself as your jailer, Dan,” he said sorrowfully.
“Then set me free!”
He was silent again for quite a while, his head swerving indecisively about-darting toward the immobile robot as though about to start it up again, returning to search my face at close range.
While I—
I was estimating the distance to the nearest workbench.
I could see that there were all sorts of things there that I thought the Bureau’s techs would have liked to play with. More immediately important, I saw a sort of chisel, a pink ceramic blade with a handle shaped for Beert’s grip, not mine. But I thought I could hold it well enough in a pinch. What’s more, I was pretty sure that the blade could cut right through that sinewy neck of his.
Well, let me make that clear. I certainly wasn’t intending to kill Beert. I was merely hoping that he would believe I would, once I put the knife to his throat. The real question was whether threatening his life would force him to help me.
I wasn’t proud of myself for thinking of taking a knife to a being who had befriended me. I wasn’t even sure that I could bring myself to do it. But then I thought of what awaited my whole world-including Pat-and I inched a bit closer to the workbench.
Finally Beert gave one of his whispery sighs. “I do not see that this would directly threaten the interests of the cousins,” he said reluctantly, “though perhaps it is better if they are not consulted. But even if I were willing to do what you wish, I do not know how to do it.”
Well, I did. Or hoped I did, anyway. “When you transmit the Wet One to this nexus, transmit me too.” I had been thinking it all out, as far as I could, and I laid it all out for Beert. The Horch in this nexus probably could find a channel to the scout ship for me. If not, at least to whatever Beloved Leaders relay station was passing on the data from the bugged humans. If they could find the channel, presumably they could use it to send me there. And then I would take my chances.
Beert listened in brooding silence, then finally raised his serpentine arms to stop me. He said somberly, “Do you know, Dan, I was sure that, if I helped you at all, sooner or later you would ask me to do something that the
