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Updated: May 29, 2025
"How long do you think I'd get away with that?" Salgath Trod demanded. "I can only stretch parliamentary immunity so far. Sooner or later, I'd have to make formal charges to a special judicial committee, and that would mean narco-hypnosis, and then it would all come out." "You'll have proof," the young man said. "We'll produce a couple of these Kharandas whom Verkan Vall didn't get hold of.
Under narco-hypnosis, they'll testify that they saw a couple of Wizard Traders take their robes off. Under the robes were Paratime Police uniforms. Do you follow me?" Salgath Trod made a noise of angry disgust. "That's ridiculous! I suppose these Kharandas will be given what is deludedly known as memory obliteration, and a set of pseudo-memories; how long do you think that would last?
Fact is, things like those could have been made on the Kholghoor Sector, if the Kharandas had learned to combine sulfur, carbon and nitrates to make powder." The interrogator at one of the tables had evidently heard all his subject could tell him. He rose, motioning the slave to stand. "Now, go with that man," he said in Kharanda, motioning to one of the detectives in native guard uniform.
The Kharandas, the people among whom she had once done field-research work, had developed a pre-mechanical, animal-power, handcraft, edge-weapon culture. She could imagine the roads jammed with fugitives from the barbarian invaders, the conveyer hidden among the trees, the lurking slavers Watch it, Dalla! Don't let the old scoundrel play on your feelings! "Well, what do you want me to do, Chief?"
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