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Updated: May 23, 2025
Finally, they were all placed; he reported the fact to Skordran Kirv and then picked up a hand-phone. "Everybody ready for transposition?" he called. "On my count. Thirty seconds ... Twenty seconds ... Fifteen seconds ... Five seconds ... Four seconds ... Three seconds ... Two seconds ... One second, out!" All the screens went gray.
Do you want the whole thing just as it happened, Assistant Verkan, or just a condensation?" "Give me what you think it indicates, remembering that you're probably trying to analyze a large situation from a very small sample." "It's big, all right," Skordran Kirv said. "This gang can't number less than a hundred men, maybe several hundred.
"You understand how it is, Doth; this is the only thing I can do." "I understand, Kirv. Count on me for absolutely anything." He looked at the brown-skinned slaves, and lines of horror and loathing appeared around his mouth. "To think that some of our own people would do a thing like this! I hope you can catch the devils! Are you transposing out, now?" "In a few minutes.
Skordran Kirv has one complete armored brigade, one airborne infantry brigade, and an air cavalry regiment, with Ghaldron-Hesthor equipment for a simultaneous transposition," Vall said. "Where in blazes did he get them all?" Ranthar Jard demanded. "They're guard troops, from Service Sector and Industrial Sector. We'll get you the same sort of a force.
Vall was asking. "Well, I have to know just what this situation's likely to develop into, and I want to know why Vulthor Tharn's been sitting on this ever since Skordran Kirv reported it to him " "I can answer the second one now," Vall replied. "Vulthor Tharn is due to retire in a few years. He has a negatively good, undistinguished record. He's trying to play it safe." Tortha Karf nodded.
At first, she was puzzled; then, in spite of herself, she was horrified and angry. Tortha Karf was explaining to Vall just where and on what paratemporal sector Kharanda was spoken. "No possibility that this agent, Skordran Kirv, could have been mistaken. He worked for a while on Kholghoor Sector, himself; knew the language by hypno-mech and by two years' use," Tortha Karf was saying.
"I'll have a confirmation along from Chief Tortha directly. And let me talk to him now, if you please. Subchief Vulthor." "Yes, sir. Switching you over now." The screen went into a beautiful burst of abstract art, and cleared, after a while, with Skordran Kirv looking out of it. "Hello, Deputy Skordran, and congratulations. What's come up since we had Nebu-hin-Abenoz cut out from under us?"
"And what will he look for?" "Croutha with guns." Tortha Karf told him, then turned to Vall. "Can't he narrow it more than that? What have his experts been getting out of those slaves?" "That I don't know, to date." Vall looked at the clock. "I'll find out, though; I'll transpose to Police Terminal and call him up. And Skordran Kirv. No.
There were bins along the walls, some partly full of oranges, and piles of wicker baskets. Another conveyer dome stood beside the one in which they had arrived; two men in white cloaks and riding boots sat on the edge of one of the bins, smoking and talking. Skordran Kirv introduced them Gathon Dard and Krador Arv, special detectives and asked if anything new had come up.
"That's definitely Second Level Khiftan," Vall said, handing it back. "Made of braided copper or silver wire and powered with a little nuclear-conversion battery in the grip. They heat up to about two hundred centigrade; produce really painful burns." "Why, that's beastly!" Dalla exclaimed. "Anything on the Khiftan Sector is." Skordran Kirv looked at the four slaves at the tables.
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