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Updated: June 13, 2025
Ride with me again, sometime." They crossed the landing stage, entered the antigrav shaft, and floated downward; at the end of a hallway, below, Vall opened the door of Tortha Karf's office and ushered her through ahead of him. Tortha Karf, inside the semicircle of his desk, was speaking into a recording phone as they approached. He shut off the machine and waved, a cigarette in his hand.
"You understand that this confession renders you liable to psycho-rehabilitation?" Tortha Karf asked. Yes, Councilman Salgath understood that. "And you agree to come voluntarily to Paratime Police Headquarters, and you will voluntarily undergo narco-hypnotic interrogation?" Yes, Salgath Trod agreed to that.
Tortha Karf quoted a line from a currently popular song about the sorrows of a policeman's life.
Here: what you'd better do is attack the Paratime Police, especially Tortha Karf and Verkan Vall. Accuse them of negligence and incompetence, and, by implication, of collusion, and demand a special committee to investigate. And try to get a motion for a confidence vote passed. A motion to censure the Management, say " Salgath Trod nodded. "It would delay things, at least.
"Here is a recording of Councilman Salgath's call to me from his apartment to my office at 1945 this evening." The screen-image shattered into light-shards and rebuilt itself: Salgath Trod, at his desk in the library of his apartment, the brandy-goblet and the needler within reach, appeared. He began to speak: from time to time the voice of Tortha Karf interrupted, questioning or prompting him.
Means the Sather Karf must believe we killed you he must have the report by now. If he thinks you're dead, there's no point in his giving chase; he knows I wouldn't let them kill Nema, even if she is a little fool. Anyhow, he's not really such a bad old guy, Dave not, like some of those Satheri.
In the corner of the room, Nema looked up for a moment, and there was fear and worry in her eyes before she looked back to her weaving of endless knots. Sather Karf sighed in weariness. "If I knew what was happening to the sky, would I be dredging the muck of Duality for the likes of you, Dave Hanson!"
I put him to sleep and had him transposed to Police Terminal. I'm going there, myself, tomorrow morning, after I've had some sleep, and get to work on him. If you're hoping to get anything useful out of him in time to head off this Council crisis that's building up, just forget it." "And that leaves us right back with our old friends, the Wizard Traders," Tortha Karf added.
She shook her head and sat down in one of the chairs behind the desk; she started to relax and then caught herself and sat erect, her hands on her lap. "This won't interfere with your vacation, Vall," Tortha Karf was saying. "I just need a little help before you transpose out." "We have to catch the rocket for Zarabar in an hour and a half," Dalla reminded him.
He bent down to study the tiny little jeweled gears. A whole gear train was out of place! Sather Karf was also inspecting it, and the words he cried didn't sound like an invocation, though they were strange enough. He straightened, still cursing. "Fix it!" "I'll try," Hanson agreed doubtfully. "But you'd better get the man who made this. He'll know better than I "
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