"Not if you can learn to behave yourself."

"This cracked buckwheat makes a nice cereal with the apples."

"Why haven't you told her how much you love her?"

"How did you... ?"

"Know you're afraid of losing her? Gen psychology is one of my specialties. I wasn't very professional a few minutes ago."

"That's what happens when you get personally involved with a patient!"

"I'd like to make up for it I'd like to save her for you. But I can't right now."

"You know," said Valleroy, sitting down opposite his partner, "I wasn't very professional either. I forgot about Yenava. She's just as good a reason to go to Zeor as Aisha is to go to the Runzi camp. I'd never be able to do anything if I did find that camp... not by myself. So we'll head for Zeor soon as we eat."

"No. We'll sleep over here. The valley will be flooded with Runzi tonight. They should be gone by morning, though. We could still make it by sundown tomorrow with luck."

"But every hour we stay here means Andle..."

"We can't travel by night, even with three quarters of a moon. Also, Andle doesn't know that we know his plans for Aisha, I want to reseal the dispatch case and leave it by the messenger's body. Knowledge is often the decisive advantage in a contest of wills."

With his own will divided against itself, Valleroy was unable to answer that. He used a dull table knife to gouge out pieces of apple and drop them into the porridge. He was hungry and weak from days of short rations. Tomorrow wouldn't be much better.

It took Klyd several hours to close the cylinder so that it looked as if it hadn't been opened. There was a delicate trick with the heat-sealing substance that caused it to regain its former decorative pattern. Valleroy marveled at the steady-handed patience that Klyd could summon at will. The man worked like a watchmaker without a care in the world while Valleroy paced, cataloging all the pressures converging on them from different directions.

After a few hours of this, Valleroy flung himself onto his blanket. As much as he wanted to be off and running after Aisha, he knew that Klyd was right.

But being right didn't make it any easier to take. He fell asleep and dreamed fitfully of Aisha's execution.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Capture

VALLEROY KNEW IT WAS A DREAM. YET IT WAS ALSO real.

Aisha stood before him draped in filmy white, collar and chain a glowing red against an infinite night. Her dark hair flowed back into a rising cloud around her fear-blanched face as if she floated in water. Without his volition, his own arms reached toward her. He saw his arms as if for the first time... tentacled!

He felt a tangible, pulsating aura around her, drawing him in. He knew it would kill her, but he had to consume that aura. His fingers touched her arms. His tentacles ached for contact. But as they touched...

Flick. He was himself... watching Klyd kill Aisha.

Flick. No, it was Enam killing Aisha, wide-eyed and vividly terrifying. She was struggling to control her fear... and losing.

He ran, struggling against a leaden fatigue... to save Aisha... losing her because of his body's weakness. He refused to stop. He refused to give up, no matter how much effort it took to gain an inch.

He saw tentacles wound about her arms. He struggled, chest aching, face twisted into a painful grimace, though what he'd do if he reached her, he didn't know.

Flick. Again it was he, himself killing Aisha. He couldn't stop it. He could only watch himself do it.

Suddenly the Gen arms under his tentacles writhed. They became Sime arms, tentacles lashing out to join his own. Their mutual grip drew them closer. Her face loomed larger and larger, flushed and smiling now. He knew that smile. It wasn't invitation... it was triumph. Their lips met.

He twisted free and sat up, throat constricted about a scream that couldn't get loose. His arms ached all the way up to his jaws with the effort to extend tentacles he didn't have. He shook himself, gasping, and lay back. He pulled the blanket back up to his chin.

It took him some time to orient to the real world, relegating the nightmare to its place. He chided himself for the lingering sense of horror. Nightmares are what you get, he thought, for wanting something too much... and not being sure exactly what it is that you want.

He pulled his arms under the blanket and rubbed the aching muscles. Realizing he was imitating one of Klyd's unconscious mannerisms, running his fingers along forearms reveling in the pure sensation, Valleroy forced his hands to his sides.

He didn't remember covering himself before falling asleep. Klyd must have done it for him, thought Valleroy. He tried to visualize the Sime in the act It helped to dispel the aftertaste of the nightmare.

Propping himself on one elbow, Valleroy saw that the cylinder lay whole again on the table. The channel's face seemed deeply lined in the ruddy light from the fire embers. As he watched, Klyd tossed from side to side as if trying to escape from something. He moaned incoherently, breathing in shallow gasps. He began calling feverishly for Denrau just as he had when he first awakened to the torture of disorientation.

Alarmed, Valleroy caught one of the Sime's hands. "Sectuib! Klyd, wake up! It's just a bad dream. Wake up! You're safe... here." He said it over and over in both languages until the tossing subsided and the channel's eyes opened.

"Naztehr"-drawing a ragged breath, Klyd repossessed his hand-"Hugh. For a moment I thought Denrau..."

He sighed deeply, fully awake now. "Thank you. I should know better than to sleep."

"Can I get you something? Drink of water? Something to eat?"

"No. Thank you."

"Maybe I should build up the fire..."

"Hugh!" The channel sat up rigidly alert

"What... ?"

Casting back and forth as if homing on some unheard signal, Klyd muttered, "Must be a Gen. Recently established. Badly frightened and exhausted." He finally settled on a direction, downhill from the cabin. "Headed this way, but slightly east of us. He'll miss the cabin. Let's go."

"Where?"

Klyd flicked aside his blanket and pulled on his boots in one fluid motion. "To get him. Can't let him wander down into that valley full of Runzi."

Not sure exactly why the channel was determined to risk their lives for one lost Gen, Valleroy followed him out the door. Whatever Klyd's reason, Valleroy agreed with the necessity.

But the recent snowfall had left patches of ice in spots. Even the bright moon didn't reveal them all. By the time they'd spotted the desperate fugitive, Valleroy had collected a new assortment of bruises. He was very glad they'd decided not to travel by night.

They crouched down behind a rock and watched. The tiny figure scrambling up toward them slid two paces back for every forward pace. But undaunted or desperate, he continued to struggle inch by inch up the slippery ice and gravel slope. The darkness kept the fugitive from seeing the easier path just a few hundred yards west.

Klyd said, "If he spots me, he'll probably try to run. That could be fatal on such gravel. And his fear would be like a beacon to the Runzi."

"Right. What do we do?"

"I'll give you their recognition password. You go down and meet him. Bring him to the cabin, but be sure you prepare him well for the sight of me."

"How come you know the recognition signal?"