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Updated: June 24, 2025
Dalla had dropped the shoulder-bag with which she had clubbed the prisoner's needler out of his hand, and caught up the fallen weapon. When she saw that the man was down and motionless, she laid it aside and began picking up the glittering or silken trifles that had spilled from the burst bag. Vall retrieved his own weapon, glanced over it, and holstered it.
The suited figure hesitated, arms spread, stepped back and fell with a thunderous crash. I had managed to knock him off balance, maybe stun him. I struggled to remember where I was in the code sequence; I went on, keyed the rest. I pushed; nothing. I must have lost count. I started again. I heard the armored man coming on again. The needler trick wouldn't work twice. I kept working.
It had been Salgath Trod, himself, less than half an hour ago, who had introduced the term, "the Organization," to the Paratime Police. At that time, if these people were what they claimed to be, they would have been in transposition from Industrial Twenty-four, on the Fifth Level. Immediately, he reached for his needler. He was clearing it of the holster when things began happening.
I had almost completed the sequence when I felt the powered grip of the suited man on my arm. I twisted, jammed the needler against his hand, and fired. The arm flew back, and even through the suit I heard his wrist snap. My own hand was numb from the recoil. The other arm of the suit swept down and struck my wounded arm. I staggered away from the door, dazed with the pain.
Tau's voice was a harsh croak, issuing out of a mask of green mud festooned with trailing weeds. "This ground is rising." Asaki smacked the stock of his needler against the surface on which he crouched. "I think perhaps there may be clean land soon to come." Jellico hitched his way up a sapling, now bending under his weight. Through the vision lenses he studied the route ahead.
"Why, thank you, Trod!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically. "I'll go tell them at once." "And have a good time, Zinganna; have the best time you possibly can," he told her, embracing and kissing her. "Now, get out of here; I have to keep my mind on business." When she had gone, he finished his drink and poured another. He drew and checked his needler.
I picked up the needler and waited. If the bluff failed, I would have to kill someone. Distantly I heard a metallic clatter. Moments later a tremor rattled the objects on the shelf, followed a few seconds later by a heavy shuddering. Papers slid from my desk, fluttered across the floor. The whiskey bottle toppled, rolled to the far wall. I felt dizzy, as my bunk seemed to tilt under me.
Dane had a fleeting glimpse of curled tusks, of an open mouth, raw-red and wide enough to engulf his whole head, of shaggy legs driving at an unbelievable pace. Asaki snapped a beam from the needler. The white monster roared and came on.
The needler clattered as Zorn reeled, and then Retief's hand clamped Zorn's arm and whirled him around. "In answer to your last question," Retief said, "your neck." "You haven't got a chance, doublecrosser," Zorn gasped. "Shoke will be here in a minute," Retief said. "Tell him it's all off." "Twist harder, Mister," Zorn said. "Break it off at the shoulder. I'm telling him nothing!"
The box struck one of the dead water-cats, flashed as fur and flesh were singed. Rynch watched dispassionately before he caught the needler, jerking it away from the prisoner. The man eyed him steadily, and his expression did not alter even when Rynch swung the off-world weapon to center its sights on the late owner. "Suppose," Rynch's voice was rusty sounding in his own ears, "we talk now."
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