Address criticisms to [xazqrten@cox.net]

******************************

   Lyta's return trip to Slor was uneventful. She and her guests, Hetit Dorr, 
her assistant Elen Hartor, Ntox Buln and his associate Egar Koln were out for 
the eighth time in three weeks collecting samples of the small wildlife and 
fauna of Slor. 

   The first week had been taken up by Lyta getting her bomblets distributed to 
various parts of the planet. Controlling her Slorian workers was more time 
consuming than she had anticipated. However, all of her toys were on their ways 
to their ultimate destinations.

   The area they were in was light savanna on the fringes of an old growth 
forest. The walking was easy and the only large animals they had encountered so 
far that morning were peaceful herbivores. Thanks to the insect repellents that 
Lyta had insisted they bring with them, they were not quite being eaten alive 
by the local insect population. However, in spite of the repellents, the 
insects were managing to make their outing something less than pleasant.

   "Remember, don't venture more than fifty meters away from me. I'm keeping 
the predators at bay, but I don't want to overdo it. They have to hunt for a 
living. I just don't want them hunting any of you."

   The scientists fanned out and began to seriously collect insects, some 
plants and subsurface worms and grubs. Lyta figured about eight hours in this 
location would give them a decent representation of the local small population. 
She had taken them to different places for each outing. They had collected some 
decent sized animals. These she kept in the cargo hold. She simply put neural 
blocks into their undeveloped minds and they lay down on the deck of the cargo 
hold, aware of their surroundings, but unable to move. 

   So far, the scientists had been able to get the blood and tissue samples 
they wanted without killing any of the captured animals. After they had what 
they wanted, the animals were released back into their natural habitats.

   That evening in the shuttle, the group of scientists worked to prepare 
samples and arbitrarily name each of the specimens they had collected that day. 
They had taken detailed photographs of each live specimen for future reference.

   "You seem to be having a good time, gents," said Lyta.

   "Of course, we are, Miss Alexander," said Dorr. "We're living a scientist's 
dream. We have a whole planet full of specimens to select from. Not one of our 
people has ever seen any of these things before. We're the first. What else 
could a scientist want?"

   "Yes," said Dorr's assistant. "We even have a guide who keeps us as safe as 
if we were at home in our own living rooms."

   "I want you to have as wide a selection of samples as possible from all over 
the planet, given our time constraints. It will be useful in determining just 
how much damage I do when I take down the Slorians," commented Lyta.

   "Yes, there is that," replied Egar Koln.

   Lyta retreated to the pilot's compartment of the shuttle and replayed the 
sensor information she had downloaded from Whitestar 89. She ran the 
information through several analysis programs on her computers. The end result 
was that there was an underground laboratory located on one of the small 
uninhabited islands in the planet's southern hemisphere. Judging from the data, 
it was a very large facility. What she didn't know was if it was still manned. 
There were several power sources still in operation, but nothing else to 
indicate that it was still operational. She concluded that she was going to 
have to visit it.

   Walking back into the work area where the scientists were busy with their 
latest specimens, she said, "I'm going to be moving the shuttle in one hour. 
Button up your work before then. We'll be airborne for a couple of hours. I'll 
see that you get some much needed sleep during that evolution. After I land 
again, you can resume your work."

   The scientists muttered amongst themselves, but nodded acknowledgement of 
her pronouncement.

******************************

   Lyta left her guests sleeping in the shuttle and made her way to the 
facility's camouflaged landing pad. It took her a few minutes to find a 
camouflaged entranceway, but it only took a thought to get the door to swing 
open. Inside she found a stairway leading down to another floor. This was 
obviously where the shuttles were taken to be loaded/unloaded. There were 
holding pens large enough to contain three or four Slorians without undue 
crowding. In less than two minutes she found two elevators, one for freight and 
one for passengers. She hadn't seen anything to indicate that there was anyone 
still working in the facility. 

   Lyta let her senses wander throughout the complex. She felt Drakh minds, but 
they were very deep down inside the structure. Without hesitation she entered 
the passenger elevator and descended into the bowels of the installation. 
Shortly she opened the elevator door on the first floor on which she detected 
Drakh minds. 

   She looked through the glass set into the door. There were three Drakh 
watching security monitors. Oddly enough, none of them were monitoring the 
landing pad or entranceway on the surface. They seemed to be preoccupied with 
whatever was going on farther down inside the facility.

   Lyta scanned them and then inserted instructions of her own. If by chance 
they saw her on any of their monitors, they would ignore her. Otherwise, they 
would behave normally. Her scans found the locations of the remainder of the 
Drakh on this level. It took her fifteen minutes to locate and incapacitate 
them the same way she did the security personnel. Not all of the subjects she 
was encountering were Drakh. The non-Drakh were obviously subservient to their 
Drakh associates. So far, Lyta hadn't had to kill any of the people she had 
encountered. She didn't want to kill anyone until she learned everything there 
was to learn about the facility and its purposes. Projecting an image of 
herself as a Drakh security officer, Lyta returned to the elevator.

   Her disguise allowed her to gain access to every level in the facility 
without arousing anyone's suspicions. After gaining access to a level, she 
changed her apparent appearance to whatever was appropriate for that level. She 
was astonished at the number of laboratories on each level. It almost seemed 
like these Drakh didn't know their dark masters had departed the galaxy. It was 
going to take quite some time to learn enough about this facility to hand it 
over to another race and expect them to be able to make real use of it. 
However, she had an answer for that problem, too.

   It took Lyta more than four hours to implant blocks and commands into the 
minds of the Drakh and their allies working in the facility. When she was 
finished with the destroying Slorian infrastructure, she would return and 
complete programming the Drakh and their associates. From her point of view 
there was no good reason why a programmed Drakh or associate couldn't teach the 
Gohrians, who would replace them, all that they knew about the equipment and 
experiments being conducted in the facility. After that had been accomplished, 
they could be dispensed with. Lyta returned to the shuttle and lifted off while 
her guests were still asleep.

   The scientists awoke to find the shuttle sitting in an area that could pass 
for a semi-arid desert area. It was completely different from the other areas 
they had visited.

   Looking at her watch, Dr. Dorr saw that she had been asleep for almost eight 
hours. "Lyta what happened to us? None of us normally sleeps for more than five 
hours a night."

   "I felt you needed the sleep, so I didn't awaken you. You must have been 
much more tired than you believed. After all, you have been averaging twenty 
hour days ever since we arrived here. Besides, I didn't want you knowing where 
I went."

   "Why not?"

   "Doctor, there are some things that are none of your business. Leave it at 
that. Now, if you're ready, there is a desert out there waiting for us."

   Lyta led them out of the shuttle. It would be a long hot twelve hours before 
they returned.

******************************

   On Babylon 5, Corwin was sitting at a table outside a bar-restaurant in the 
Zocalo area of the station. It was early afternoon and he had gotten off duty 
les than a half an hour before. As he nursed his drink he was deep in thought 
about the fact that his DTGT friends had all departed the station over the last 
few weeks. It took him a few moments to realize that someone was standing on 
the other side of his table. Looking up, he recognized Larry Evans, Captain 
Lochley's 'boyfriend'.

   "What might I do for you, Mr. Evans?"

   "I'm thinking maybe 'What can I do for you?' might be a better question."

   "What can you do for me, Mr. Evans?"

   "You look like you could use a friend."

   Corwin snorted derisively. "You have to be joking."

   "Why? You have a problem. Maybe I can help you deal with it. It can't hurt 
to hear me out. Can it?"

   "Sit down and talk, Mr. Evans."

   Evans sat down across at Corwin's table. Without hesitation, Evans said, "I 
know about your problem and how it's affecting your promotion."

   "What are you talking about, Mr. Evans?"

   "Elizabeth told me about your encounter with Psi Corps."

   "That's none of your business," bit out Corwin.

   "Considering that I was in charge of counter-intelligence and worked in the 
department that almost destroyed you, I beg to differ, Lt. Corwin."

   Corwin's jaw dropped. "You worked there?"

   "I was in charge of counter-intelligence, alien sector. I wasn't involved in 
domestic counter-intelligence, or the training department. That's the people 
who snatched you and the other Earthforce personnel. I knew what they were 
doing, but I wasn't aware of how they were getting their 'volunteers' until 
after the Psi Corps was brought down and the various department records became 
public knowledge. The files from counter-intelligence never made it into the 
news, but they were investigated during the PSI Trials. So, I do know something 
about what you were subjected to. That's why we're having this conversation."

   Corwin looked stunned at Evans' revelation. "And Captain Lochley knows about 
your part in all this."

   "Most certainly. She started an investigation into the matter right after 
you had your conversation with her about why you despise telepaths. Your 
association with the DTGT group is why your promotion is on indefinite hold. 
Before you blow up, you should know that your father recommended that Elizabeth 
cash you out of Earthforce for your actions. She told him that you were her 
problem, not his, and that she would handle it her way. She thinks you’re worth 
saving. Is she mistaken?"

   "What has this to do with you helping me with my problem?"

   "You know that Captain Lochley remained loyal to the Clark regime. You know 
there were many like her. They didn't commit any atrocities, but they didn't 
oppose Clark. I notice that you don't hate her or them. Why not? There are 
doctors that commit nasty crimes on some of their patients. However, you don't 
hate all doctors. Why not? If you knew someone with six fingers on each hand 
that was a serial killer, would you think that all people with six fingers on 
each hand were serial killers? Would it make any sense?"

   Corwin thought about what Evans had just said while nursing his drink. A few 
minutes later, he replied, "I see your point, but what does that have to do 
with me?"

   "If you want to hate someone because of what Psi Corps did to you, hate me. 
At least I was in the section that abused you. You hate Lyta for what she did 
in the Zocalo. That's okay, even though she didn't harm anyone. You hate all 
telepaths. Your parents didn't teach you to hate like that. What exactly did 
the DTGT group do to you to instill that kind of hatred in your heart? Only you 
can answer that question. Your future is yours to make or break. Choose wisely."

   Corwin sat and looked at Evans. He didn't respond immediately. Evans stood 
up and said, "If I were you, I'd give what I just told you some very serious 
thought."

   "Was this supposed to be about Dr. Balor?"

   "Obviously, talking to you, lt. has been a waste of my time." Evans walked 
away. Corwin stared after him. He wasn't sure what the point of Evans' little 
speech was.

   Corwin took a bite of the sandwich, which had sat uneaten while Evans had 
been there. Another shadow fell across the table. "David. What brings you down 
here in the middle of the day? I thought you were working the day shift."

   "Normally I do, but Hawkins' wife delivered right at the end of my shift 
yesterday, so I worked his shift. Captain Lochley shoved me off early since we 
have a slack afternoon today. She said she would cover my duties."

   "I wish someone would cover mine. You favorites get all the breaks."

   "Ron, what makes you think I’m a Captain Lochley favorite?"

   Ronald Simms replied, "She didn't kick your skinny ass out of the service 
when she learned about your involvement with DTGT."

   "My only involvement with them was that I had drinks during my off time with 
some of the members, and I went to a couple of their meetings."

   "That's enough to get you cashed out, ole buddy."

   "If I wanted to be harassed, I could have just asked Mr. Evans to stay here 
and keep talking."

   "What are you going to do for after hours entertainment, now that the DTGT 
boys and girls have departed our hallowed station?"

   "I suppose pretty much what I did before they came."

   "You mean you're going back to dating Dr. Balor. In case you haven't 
noticed, she is getting rather plump. I do believe she is pregnant."

   "No! I'm not going to date her. We are finis, kaput, over and done with. You 
can stick a fork in it."

   "Okay! Okay! I'm sorry I brought it up. If you and she are done, what else 
is there for you to do? Anyway, whatever she was stuck with, I don't think it 
was a fork."

   "I'll have to find another girlfriend. There are a lot of unattached women 
living on this tin can."

   Simms said, "If you're up to it, I'll be happy to take some of your dough at 
the Nine-Ball Palace."

   "Let me finish this sandwich and my drink and you'll have yourself a match."

******************************
   
   Corwin had won a few credits from his friend at nine-ball. He had also been 
thinking about what Larry Evans had said to him earlier. He had been walking 
without actually paying much attention to where he was going. He found himself 
just outside Med Lab One. 

   "Is there anything I can do for you Lt. Corwin?" asked Dr. Hobbs.

   Hobbs' voice brought Corwin back to reality. Realizing where he was he 
turned to leave the area.

   "She left for her free clinic about ten minutes ago, lt. Personally, I think 
you'll be wasting your time, but it's your time."

   Corwin didn't bother to answer the doctor. He walked away going back the way 
he had come. In his mind, he wondered what he would have said, if she had been 
there. He couldn't think of a thing to say to the woman. He had said more than 
enough the night he had told her about how much he hated telepaths, and what he 
would do to them if it were possible. Evans had tried to obliquely tell him 
that he shouldn't hold Dr. Balor responsible for what Psi Corps had done to 
him. What had been left unsaid was that soldiers such as he and Lochley had a 
choice about being a member of Earthforce. The woman who would bear his child 
hadn't been given a choice about being a telepath anymore than he had had a 
choice of what sex he would be. However, he could always be operated on and 
change his sex, more or less, but she could do nothing about being a telepath. 
It was an inseparable part of her, like her skin. Having seen what the Psi 
Corps did to those who wouldn't join it, the choices PSI Corps offered were no 
choices at all. Either you joined the corps, or you ended up dead, one way or 
another. The thought that he could never undo the damage he had done weighed on 
him. The thought of how much he had loved her, and how he had destroyed the 
relationship was one that was going to give him fits of depression for a long 
time to come. What made it worse was knowing that all the paperwork had been 
completed for Lyta Alexander, or her representative, to take possession 
of 'his' baby when it was born, and there wasn't one damned thing he could do 
about it. He also thought about his statements to his father concerning the 
baby, and wished he could take them back. That was never going to happen. His 
father was already disgraced by his actions concerning the DTGT group, not to 
mention his fiasco with Dr. Balor.

******************************

   Evans was waiting for Dr. Balor when she arrived at her quarters, after 
closing her free clinic.

   "Good evening, Cathy. May I have a word with you?"

   "Of course, Uncle Larry. Step into my quarters. We can talk while I get 
ready for bed."

   Evans sat on her couch and talked to her as she showered. It was hard for 
her to hear him, so he repeated the part about talking to Corwin earlier that 
day.

   "I don't understand why you bothered, Uncle Larry. David and I are quits. He 
made it quite plain about how he felt about my unborn baby and me. I've already 
made all the arrangements for Lyta Alexander or whomever she sends, to take my 
baby when it is born. I won't renege on that agreement for anything or anyone. 
I have no further interest in Lt. David Corwin whatsoever. I like his mother 
and father. They are good people. They seemed to be very disappointed with him 
too. At least that's what Captain Lochley told me."

   "I only tried to give him a good reason to reevaluate his treatment of you. 
Remember that he was being brainwashed by the DTGT group. On his own, I believe 
he hated the people who actually harmed him, but I don't think he actually 
hated all telepaths. Remember, it was because of the telepaths that the Army of 
Light, of which he was a member, was able to successfully defeat many of the 
Shadow warships. In a manner of speaking, he owes them his life. You don't hate 
people who put their asses on the line to save yours."

   "I appreciate the thought, Uncle Larry, but I have too many things going on 
now to worry about some pigheaded lt. I won't waste my time on him. Between my 
regular work schedule, being pregnant, and running the free clinic, I just 
don't have any time for him."

   "If the fiasco hadn't happened, you would have time for him."

   "It's a moot point. It happened and that's the end of it. I don't mean to be 
rude, but I've got to be up in just over four hours to begin another day, so 
goodnight, Uncle Larry."

   Evans departed and headed for his own quarters. It was almost 0100 hours and 
Elizabeth would be sound asleep. She would not appreciate being awakened at 
this time of night.

******************************

   At lunch the next day Lochley asked Evans why he hadn't come over.

   "You weren't there when I arrived at my quarters; you didn't show up before 
bedtime; you didn't leave me any messages, and you weren't there when I awoke. 
Care to tell me what happened?"

   Evans told her about his conversation with Corwin and his late night meeting 
with Dr. Balor. "I don't know what Corwin will do, if anything, with what I 
told him. Dr. Balor is another story. She isn't the least interested in Corwin 
and what may have caused him to behave like he has."

   "I'm not sure I like your using me as an example, but if it helps my not so 
young lt. get his act together, then I can live with it. I like the part about 
Earthforce being a choice, but sex, color and telepathy not being choices. I 
hadn't ever thought of telepaths and Psi Corps from that point of view."

******************************

   Two days later, during the morning half of Lochley's and Corwins' shifts, 
Lochley was reviewing water recycling reports when there was a knock on her 
office door. "Come in."

   Corwin stuck his into the office and asked, "Could I have about five minutes 
of your time, Captain Lochley?"

   Lochley pointed at the chair across the desk from her and replied, "Take a 
seat, Mr. Corwin. Tell me what's on your mind."

   "I had a talk with Mr. Evans a couple of days ago. I've been thinking about 
the points he was making. I told you how I was abused by the Psi Corps. What I 
have just realized is how badly I've been affected by it. I think I need to see 
a therapist. I need to come to terms with my feelings about the situation."

   "Have Dr. Hobbs set you up an appointment with one of the therapists that 
provide services to our medical staff. I'll expect a report when you complete 
your therapy."

******************************

   Beverly Wiseman wasn't happy. This was the third time in just over a week 
that she had to meet with Bob Withers and Helen Acker. She didn't mind meeting 
with Acker, but Withers was a real pain in the ass. He used every opportunity 
to try to make a pass at Beverly. She tried ignoring the man, but he didn't 
seem to be able to leave her alone. Even though he had learned about Bob 
Bryson's background and feared the man, his ego had finally won the battle of 
hormones. Like an addict, he couldn't leave the woman alone even knowing what 
might happen to him.

   As usual, Bob accompanied Beverly home to the point where Beverly was 
practically at her front door. However, one evening after a fifth meeting with 
Withers and Acker within an eight day period, he and Beverly missed the train 
they regularly rode. They had to wait for a later one and this caused Bryson to 
be pressed for time trying to walk Beverly to her door and still catch his 
normal train. Beverly calculated that if he walked her all the way home, he 
would miss his train and have to wait almost two hours for the next one.

   Bob was insisting on walking her all the way home, and she was arguing that 
he could walk her to within a hundred meters of her house and still have enough 
time to catch his train. Beverly finally won the heated discussion. Bob bid her 
goodnight and started walking back toward the train station.

   Bryson had walked less than thirty meters when he heard the scream. It came 
from the direction of Beverly's walking home. He turned, pulled a PPG from his 
left pocket and, at a dead run, sprinted toward the scream. The PPG felt like a 
natural extension of his hand. He had carried one ever since he first became 
involved in the Mars Resistance, which dated from before Clark ascended to the 
presidency of the Earth Alliance. He had obtained a concealed weapons license 
as a result of his position in Edgars' Industries.

   The yelling and screaming continued and was moving as he closed the distance 
between himself and it. The last scream he heard was coming from an alley way. 
As he came around the corner into the alley he saw someone fall very hard to 
the ground, striking their head on a concrete step as they fell. He yelled at a 
man standing over the fallen person and saw a wicked looking reflection from a 
large knife blade. As the knife wielder bent over to stab at the fallen person, 
Bryson snapped off three quickly aimed shots at the man. The man looked at 
Bryson and grinned just as the first PPG blast hit him in the face. The other 
two shots hit him in the chest. He was dead before he could fall to the ground.

   As his third shot hit his target, Bryson was hit in the right side of his 
chest by what felt like a large truck. In quick succession he was hit twice 
more. The first shot had spun him about a quarter of the way around. The second 
hit took him in the abdomen below the ribcage, a third shot hit him in the left 
leg, and passed into and through his right leg, destroying his testes on its 
way through. Instinctively he returned fire toward what was only a shadow to 
him. He fired six  shots. By luck, his first shot hit his assailant in the 
right hand, causing his pistol to detonate a round halfway through a loading 
cycle and all but incinerating his hand and lower arm. Fortunately for Bryson 
this chain of events prevented the assailant from firing any more shots. 
Bryson's second shot hit the assailant in the upper arm completely destroying 
it. The remainder of his shots were low and destroyed the legs of his assailant 
from the knees down. 

   Bryson hit the Martian street and lost consciousness almost immediately. His 
last thoughts before the blackness claimed him were that the street here tasted 
even worse than the street in San Francisco and that this time there was no 
Lyta Alexander to save him.

******************************
   
   Detective Lieutenant Jason Morgan looked at the dead body in the alley and 
felt a bit sick at his stomach. The smell of burned human flesh had always had 
that effect on him. As much of it as he had smelled during the resistance days, 
he just couldn't get used to it. The injured victims were already in the 
emergency room at Mars Hospital number two. The surviving assailant was being 
watched pending the arrival of an ambulance to transport him to the hospital. 
Morgan looked at his partner, Detective Sergeant Louis Wang. "What do we have 
so far, Lou?" 

   "Believe it or not, we have an eye witness. She also called the alarm into 
the emergency center. According to her, these two chased a woman into this 
alley and tried to cut her up with a large knife. The second victim ran around 
the corner of the alley and yelled for the guy with the knife to stop. 
Apparently, the guy then tried to cut the woman, who had fallen to the ground 
and smacked her head on that step over there. As the guy reached down to cut 
her, our 'hero' shot him three times and the first shot hit him in the face. As 
you can see, there isn't much to look at. The second guy is unconscious, but he 
took some pretty bad damage. His right arm is charcoal history and both of his 
legs are in the same shape. As the witness tells it, this guy here shot the 
other fellow about three times. The fellow did this to him even though he was 
shot all to hell. That very large pool of blood was where he was laying when 
the uniforms and the paramedics arrived. From the size of that pool of blood, I 
don't think the guy is likely to live through the emergency room."

   "Have we identified the victims?"

   "Both carried ID's. The woman is Beverly Wiseman. Her address is about two 
blocks from here. The guy is Robert Bryson. He lives over in the Athens Dome. 
He's a long way from home."

   "I know him, or at least I used to. He was carrying a concealed weapon - a 
PPG I believe."

   "Yeah, and he has a license to carry it. He had another ID that says he 
works for Edgars' Industries. The carry permit was issued through them. He was 
legal, but that still doesn't explain why he's so far from home."

   "Maybe we will be able to get something from the Wiseman woman."

   "Our witness said that the Wiseman woman was already unconscious when the 
Bryson fellow ran into the alley." Pointing to a second story window that was 
less than ten meters from where the attack occurred, Wang said, "That's where 
our witness lives. She got a bird's eye view of the entire attack."

   "I can't believe she volunteered to talk."

   "It seems that she knows the Wiseman woman. Where do you know the Bryson 
fellow from?"

   "Bob and I met in the resistance. We have a lot of history from those days. 
I owe him big time."

   "Did he know you were a telepath?"

   "He knew from the get go, and before you ask, yes, he knew about my sexual 
orientation. It never mattered to him and his family. God rest their souls." 

******************************

   Beverly Wiseman was running for her life. The man was trying his best to cut 
her with the knife in his right hand. She had screamed when they accosted her. 
She had yelled and screamed for help as they chased her. She had run up a blind 
alley, and it was all she could do to keep the man from cutting her. Then she 
felt herself trip and fall. Her head was throbbing so badly she was almost 
crying. Everything was dark, but in the distance she could see diffused light 
shining through a fog. Slowly she walked toward the light. It seemed like 
forever, but eventually she could make out the light. It looked like a 
fluorescent ceiling light. Finally she realized that's what it was.

   Beverly learned that it was almost noon of the day after her attack. The 
blow to her head had resulted in a severe concussion. Shortly after she awoke a 
man of about fifty or so entered her room.

   "Good afternoon Ms. Wiseman. I'm Detective Lieutenant Jason Morgan. I've 
been assigned to investigate the attack on you last night. I realize you feel 
like hell, but I only have a couple of questions to ask you."

   In a very weary voice, Beverly responded, "Ask away. I'll answer what I can."

   "Where were you coming from when you were attacked?"

   "I was returning from a business meeting in Sierra Dome. My company is 
supplying a secure network for the president's campaign office."

   "Whom do you work for?"

   "Edgars' Industries."

   "Did you recognize either of your assailants?"

   "No. Why did they attack me? They didn't seem interested in robbing me or 
anything like that. They just seemed to want to kill me."

   "Someone must really have it in for you. Those two were paid hit men. Not 
the brightest bulbs in the light fixture, but fairly good at what they do. Do 
you know a Robert Bryson?"

   "We both work for the same company. Why?"

   "His name came up. I just wondered if there was a reason."

   "Bob had left me and headed back to the station before I was attacked. I 
didn't want him to spend two hours waiting for the next train, so I made him 
start back early. Normally he walks me to within ten meters of my door. I can't 
get him to come in. Is he okay?"

   "Is there any reason he shouldn't be?"

   "No. None that I can think of. How did I get out of this mess alive, anyway?"

   Turning to leave Morgan replied, "If I have anymore questions, I get in 
touch with you. You've been very helpful, Ms. Wiseman. Luckily for you that 
today is Saturday. You won't even miss a day's work because of this."

******************************

   After finishing with Wiseman, Morgan requested to see the surviving 
assailant. He insisted that a doctor and nurse be with him while he questioned 
the suspect.

   The suspect, Arby Felder, lay on his back in bed with what remained or his 
right arm and his legs swathed in bandages.

   Morgan lowered his mental barriers before he began to question Felder. "I'm 
Detective Morgan, Arby old man; how're you feeling today? I hear you had a run 
in with a man and a woman last night. Would you care to tell me about it?" 

   "What're the doctor and nurse for?" growled Felder.

   "They're my witnesses that I didn't use force or any kind of coercion when I 
asked you questions. I want to be sure that you are given all your rights. You 
already know you don't have to answer any of my questions without your counsel 
present. All you have to do is say the word and I'll leave. However, you might 
find it worth your while to at least listen to me."

   "I feel like crap. The bastard shot off my arm and legs. You already know I 
had a run in with the man and woman."

   "The woman tells me that you and your late associate weren't trying to rob 
her. Who wanted her wasted? Who wanted him wasted? Or, was he just in the wrong 
place at the wrong time?"

   "What kind of deal can I make?"

   "I don't know if we can deal, yet, Arby. The guy you shot is still alive. If 
he survives and talks, he may be able to tell us all we need to know. If he 
dies, you fry. We have a reliable witness and your gun and you. I really don't 
need anything else. Since we won our independence from Earth, we reinstated the 
death penalty. You could be the first person to try it out, if the man dies. 
I'm more interested in who hired you. I know you aren't doing it for your 
health. Unless suicide is in your immediate future."

   "I don't think it's in my best interests to talk to you. Now get out!"

   Morgan turned and walked out of the room. Looking at the doctor and 
nurse. "I need your names and for you to note the time we were in Mr. Felder's 
room. You are my witnesses that I did nothing to coerce him to talk to me and 
that I left when he told me to."

  "We can do that, Detective Morgan," answered the doctor. 

******************************
   
   Back at the station, Morgan sat in his office and mused. The Wiseman woman 
wasn't aware that her friend had come to her rescue and had been terribly 
wounded for his efforts. It wasn't his business, but the thoughts and feelings 
emanating from Wiseman told a story of someone who considered Bryson much more 
than 'just a friend'. Knowing Bryson from the old days, he was sure that his 
friend didn't have a clue. He just hoped he survived his ordeal. Bryson had 
been in surgery for more than twelve hours before they wheeled him into the 
intensive care unit (ICU). The doctor told Morgan that the next several days 
were anyone's guess, but he had strongly suggested that he not bet on his 
friend's recovery. The fact that Bryson was also in a coma wasn't a very 
cheerful thought.

******************************

   It was pitch black. Robert Bryson could not understand why he couldn't see 
anything. He concentrated on learning where he was, and the blackness slowly 
began to lighten to a muted gray. After what seemed like forever, Bryson could 
begin to see some of the area immediately surrounding him. What he saw was 
frightening, terrifying even. It looked like he was standing knee deep in the 
refuse of a slaughter house. From behind him came a familiar voice. "Not a very 
pleasant sight or smell is it, Bob?"

   Turning to look at the person addressing him, Bryson responded with a 
question. "What are you doing here, Lyta? As far as I know, you're on the other 
side of the galaxy."

   "What does it matter how I'm managing to be here. If you don't get this mess 
cleaned up and repaired, how I can be here will be a very moot point. 
Obviously, you didn't pay close enough attention the last time you got all shot 
up. So, I'm going to walk you through the process of using what your mind knows 
and what your body knows how to do."

   "How long is this going to take?"

   "As long as it takes. Now, get your ass in gear and follow me."

   Bryson followed Lyta into a familiar building. He remembered that it 
contained all the information he would need to repair any organ or system in 
his body. With the information contained in this repository, his body could 
even regenerate a completely destroyed organ or system, if he didn't die first. 
Lyta led him into a room that had the word index blazoned across the 
entranceway.

   Bryson, under Lyta's tutelage, spent almost two months studying what he 
needed to know and then another month diagnosing his injuries and then five 
more years repairing them.

   In real time, Bryson's mind had accomplished the learning and diagnosis in 
less than ten minutes. In the first seconds after he was injured, the first 
thing his body had done was to stop the bleeding that would kill him in a 
matter of minutes. His body then set about the healing process, where possible, 
by the time the paramedics arrived on the scene. After the initial emergency 
healing, his body stopped while his subconscious mind sorted out data and made 
a plan for efficient healing. During this time, he was being 'repaired' in the 
hospital's emergency operating room.

   Lyta Alexander had never been there. What his mind had done was call up a 
vision that was trusted and used it as a counterpoint to work against and with. 

******************************

   It was 0700 hours Monday morning and Beverly Wiseman was already at her 
desk. She still had a bad headache, but that seemed to be the worst of the 
leftovers from her Friday night experience. She was just starting to sip on her 
first cup of coffee when she rang Bob Bryson's office. She would give a week's 
pay to see the expression on his face when she told him about her Friday night 
experience. Not knowing that Bryson had been terribly wounded during her 
experience, she kept ringing his office intermittently for almost fifteen 
minutes. She decided to try again after his secretary came in. His injuries and 
hospitalization were unknown to any of Bob Bryson's associates and friends. 
Since Detective Morgan had determined that it was an aborted assassination 
attempt, and he wasn't sure which of them, Bryson or Wiseman, was the target, 
he hadn't released any names to the press. Morgan already knew that Bryson had 
no next of kin either on Mars or on Earth. He wondered how long it would be 
before anyone actually asked about his absence. He had ignored Wiseman's 
question about Bryson because she couldn't possibly know that he had been 
injured.

   Beverly was on her second cup of coffee and reviewing the progress of the 
president's secure LAN/WAN installation. The hardware was in place and her 
engineers and techs had spent the weekend conducting systems and software 
compatibilities tests. It was looking like her people could begin the necessary 
on the job training for the first members of the president's reelection 
campaign office.

   Her video phone rang. It was Hiro Kyrtia, the Chief Executive Officer (CEO) 
of Edgars' Industries. 

   "What can I do for you, Mr. Kyrtia?"

   "I've been trying to reach Bob Bryson, Beverly. His secretary says he hasn't 
cone into the office yet. Bob always gets here early. From your response, I 
take it you don't know where he is?"

   "No sir. The last time I saw him was when he escorted me home Friday night. 
Is there something wrong?"

   "I got a call from that Withers fellow and he is irate that our people 
worked in their building over the weekend, and he wasn't told about it."

   "Bob cleared it with Helen Acker, their communications officer. If Withers 
has a problem, then he should be talking to her not us. It's not our problem if 
they can't get their act together."

   Kyrtia smiled at her from the display screen. "That's true. I wanted Bob to 
go over there and smooth things out. I don't suppose you would care to do it?"

   "If I can do away with Withers, it would be a real pleasure. Otherwise, I'll 
go if you order me to. You know how I feel about him and his cronies."

   "To be sure. I'd appreciate it if you'd see to it. If nothing else, make 
sure they know that we work for the president, not them, and that he wouldn't 
be pleased with his assistants performance to date."

   "Yes sir, Mr. Kyrtia. I'll handle it." Beverly retrieved her copy of the 
final contract for the president's campaign office installation and began to 
review it. Twenty minutes later she called the contract officer for the project 
and made a quick appointment to discuss it with her.

   It took Beverly only a few minutes to get the contract officer to clarify a 
couple of sections of the final contract.

******************************

   Two hours later, Beverly had finished going over the pertinent parts of the 
contract with Withers and Acker. She made it abundantly clear that it was the 
president's campaign staffers' responsibility for keeping their communications 
in some semblance of order. Withers had insisted on talking to her alone. She 
figured it was because Bryson wasn't present. Withers must think this was his 
chance. Acker hadn't been gone five minutes before Withers made it plain what 
he expected.

   "Let me get this straight. If I don't accede to your demands you will get 
this contract broken in such a manner that it will be me who suffers the 
consequences?"

   "That's the way it is. I don't like to be brushed off, Ms. Wiseman."

   "In addition to being a very ugly man, you are a bore. You can do your best. 
You won't like the results, Mr. Withers. You are on very thin ice." 

   Beverly picked up her paperwork and returned it to her briefcase. Then she 
turned to leave. What she heard next made her blood run cold, but she made no 
response.

   "You almost got butchered Friday night. Your friend may not survive his 
wounds. Next time, they won't miss. I suggest you think about it."

   Beverly departed the campaign headquarters and headed back to her office. On 
the way she called Detective Morgan and asked him to meet her in her office. 
She was smiling all the way back to her office. She had Withers where she 
wanted him. It was almost too much to have hoped for.

******************************

   Beverly and Morgan were in Hiro Kyrtia's office. "I want you gentlemen to 
watch the images on this data crystal." She then played the images up to the 
point where Helen Acker had departed the room.

   "Is there anything in this that causes you any heartburn, sir?"

   "Not at all, Beverly. You conducted yourself in a completely professional 
manner, while laying responsibility exactly where it belongs."

   "Detective Morgan may find the remainder of this more interesting than you 
will, sir. However, I think it will make my case about Mr. Withers."

   Beverly ran the remainder of the images. Morgan uttered a low 
whistle. "Christmas just came very early, Ms. Wiseman."

   Kyrtia was silent for almost two minutes. "I wonder if the president knows 
what he has heading up his campaign. If this ever got out, he and his campaign 
would be so much history. Do I want to know how you managed to get this video, 
Beverly?"

   "Not really, sir. It's part of our security arrangements for the president's 
headquarters."

   "I noted that Withers disabled all the monitoring devices that we installed 
in their meeting room."

   "Yes, sir, he did."

   "But he didn't turn off all your monitoring devices. Did he Ms. Wiseman?" 
asked Morgan.

   "The president's databases were compromised during the last election, Mr. 
Morgan. I don't intend to let that happen this time."

   "You said you didn't like him, Beverly," noted Kyrtia.

   "No, sir, I don't. However, this is a job that I have been contracted to do. 
I will do it to the best of mine and my people's abilities." 

   "I like your attitude, Ms. Wiseman. I like your extra monitoring even more. 
Can I have that crystal? I won't allow anyone to learn where it came from," 
said Morgan.

   "If Mr. Kyrtia doesn't have any heartburn, I don't. Besides, I have the 
original images on file."

   "Let him have it, Beverly. Before you leave, Lieutenant, would care to tell 
me what Withers was referring to with the last statements that he made to 
Beverly?"

   "I'd like to know that myself. I know what he was talking about concerning 
me, but who was he referring to when he talked about my friend?" 

   "Your friend he was referring to is Robert Bryson. He's in intensive care in 
a coma. The doctor isn't sure if Bob'll recover or not. He has no idea at what 
capacity he'll be able to function, if he can even function at all. He's why 
you're alive, Ms. Wiseman. I know Bob from way back. If he survives, he'll tell 
you he would've done it for anyone. It's obvious from this crystal that Withers 
was involved somehow. It's going to be a bitch trying to prove it, but you've 
given me something to start with."

   "Are they allowing any visitors for Bob?" asked Beverly.

   "Not until he comes out of his coma, if that ever happens. Do you know that 
Bob doesn't have any next of kin?"

   Beverly and Kyrtia shook their heads, no. 

   "I hate to run, but Beverly has given me something to work with," said 
Morgan.

******************************

   Lyta was sitting watching the scientists work and listening to their 
conversation. She was a bit surprised that she understood what they were 
discussing. She supposed that it was more of her programming quietly kicking-in 
in her subconscious mind. The scientists had been miffed at her highhandedness 
about her private project, but the last week of collecting specimens more than 
caused them push those feelings into the background. They realized there wasn't 
anything they could do about them anyway.

   "We've been here more than a month, Ms. Alexander. How much longer are you 
going to allow us to do our collecting?" Asked Hetir Dorr.

   "We can stay until the Slorians are ready to do a live test firing of the 
large energy weapon they're working on. On that day, we'll depart, and I'll 
destroy the Slorians, or at least most of them."

   "You say that very casually, Ms. Alexander."

   "Not at all, Doctor. I simply run the numbers of people these beings will 
butcher through my mind, and ask my self how it can be prevented. The answer is 
relatively simple. Eliminate the problem. Don't worry, there'll be enough of 
them left for your people to work with."

   "It's just so cold."

   "Let me ask you this, Doctor? If you had trained ferousimids on your planet 
that were capable of operating heavy weapons, and you couldn't be sure you 
could keep them from having access to those weapons, how would you handle the 
situation?"

   "That's different. Ferousimids aren't sentient."

   "Neither are the native Slorians. The Shadow thralls have made it possible 
for them to build weapons of mass destruction, but their minds are otherwise no 
more developed than your ferousimids. In fact, in that respect, your 
ferousimids are more advanced than the modified Slorians."

   "I suppose if you look at it from that point of view, but it still leaves me 
cold."

   The other three scientists joined the conversation. After some debate, they 
conceded, in spite of their feelings, that Lyta's method of dealing with the 
Slorian problem was the only practical one available.

******************************

   Captain Lochley read the message in her hand again. From one point of view, 
she was happy, from another she was sorely disappointed. It had taken several 
weeks for Earthforce headquarters to send her a reply to the fact that she was 
pregnant. They had dumped the decision right back into her lap. Very bluntly 
JCS, through the CJCS, had said that it was up to her. As long as she could 
handle the job, it was hers to keep. If and when she felt she could no longer 
handle the station, she could request retirement, since she had enough time in 
for that purpose.

   Larry came into her quarters and Elizabeth handed him the message. "They 
sidestepped the issue, Larry."

   After reading the message, he replied, "Yeah, but they put you into the 
driver's seat. Since it's your decision, we'll have plenty of time to make 
plans."

******************************

END PART 16

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