"Ha! You see?"

"No, wait, wait!" Her face was taut. "Mal, see if you can raise the Rectory. There might be a channel open. I think the Major would consent to the bargain."

"You're really going to try and make a deal with that old scum? After what he had done to you? After what he was going to have done to you?"

"Don't make this any harder than it is, please!" She looked at him and this time it wasn't an act, no.

Mal adjusted the transceiver to tune in to any open Rectory frequency. "That's the first time you ever asked me a favor instead of threatening or blackmailing your way into it."

"Oh, shut up."

Expectedly, Orvenalix wasn't available. Kitten got him available.

"Well, Lieutenant, things are certainly interesting around here." He twitched his antennae in a motion indicating thranx sarcasm. "How does your garden grow?" "'Ple astwin nirer, hyl.' Quite contrary, taking m certain cogent points." She explained the situation.

"I've linked up as you suggested," came Rose's voice clearly. The multiple hookup was crude, but would serve. "Tridee also. No tricks, now."

"You know who I am?" asked Orvenalix.

"My guardian angel? How could I help but know you Major? You've cost me a lot, in the past."

"Would that it were more. I shall concur with the Lieutenant's recommendations in all respects."

"Swear by your hive-mother, the Queen, and your larval corridor."

"Done," said Orvenalix, after rattling off a long string of ancient thranx no one could understand. They apparently satisfied Rose, however.

Orvenalix betrayed none of the fury he must have felt. Restraining emotions as strong as that would drive many humans mad. Such emotional control was accepted matter-of-factly among the thranx.

"For all, uh, past discrepancies as well?"

"All that I have jurisdiction over. You'll have to take your chances on other worlds. I have only so much authority. You're stretching it now. Turn over the drug."

There was a long pause during which the only sound from Rose's end was that of the wind eddying across the pickup.

A sigh. "Oh, well, all right. It was a long-shot idea anyway. I think I was over-rationalizing for a while, there."

"He's slowing!" Kitten shouted, switching her gaze from the raft vector to the port.

"You honestly think that bloodhype will have any effect on that monster?" asked Mal.

She looked past him, at a spot on the far wall. "Maybe not. But I don't think anything else will either, except maybe what Peot can do. If that fails, you know the alternative. The drug has to be tried."

Rose slid over into the lee of one of the innumerable tiny islets that speckled Repler. They were so close to the city the towers of the central business district could be seen clearly. -

"Have the case ready," instructed Mal over the comm. "And no tricks yourself. I'd as lief break your neck as make money."

"Impressive warning! Tricks, from me? Insults! I'm now an honest man, absolved of past sin. Didn't you hear? As clear of conscience and ..."

"Pious, isn't he? Enjoys rubbing it in."

"Ready to convert, no doubt," said Kitten. "The man leaves a sour taste. To let him go free like this-that damn drug!"

"I'll try not to do anything crazy, like busting him one. Remember: Phrases of Import and Salvation, The Book, Chapter IX: 'To be angered by evil is to partake of it ... stupid.'"

"You're a student?"

"I've read some of The Book. Who hasn't?"

They pulled alongside the waveskimmer. It rocked gently in the slight swell, engines idling. Mal could see Rose strapped into the pilot's seat on the high foredeck. Kitten cut their own engines and he glanced back at her. "Want to do the honors?"

"Every time I set eyes on that person my faith in humanity drops several notches. It's rock bottom now."

She swiveled in her chair. "At least the case is intact. No drug, no pardon. You do it."

Mal grunted, took a step towards the door. When his foot came down, the floor wasn't there anymore.

The deck dropped away from under him, bounced up at a different angle. Mal found himself tumbling head over reason. The far wall turned into a ceiling, came up too fast. Dazed, he struggled to his knees while the ship played cocktail shaker around him. Several loud clangs .sounded from the rear of the raft.

Kitten screamed. He turned in her direction.

She was still strapped into the pilot's seat, silhouetted against the gray sky. A jet-black curtain shot through with silver was shutting out the light. The blackness that finally overcame him was of a more familiar variety.

Down in the abyss of its vast consciousness, a miniscule portion of the Vom-mind noted the incident. It was recorded and filed for further attention. It could not be spared time for follow-up or evaluation. Not now. Worlds were at stake.

On some parts of Repler, iron changed unnoticed to gold. And on at least one island, to copper. Then back again. Fish of a hundred different varieties schooled, forming unnatural association.

A small, peaceful crustacean reeled under the impact of an intelligence boost of a hundred thousand times. It was immediately gobbled by a torpid bottom feeder.

The second moon, which continued to spin counterclockwise, abruptly lowered its orbit a hundred kilometers.

Repler VI and VII were both gas giants. They began to break up, responding to titanic internal convulsions. Great clouds of ammonia and methane flew off like cotton into space.

On a large island, a snake-like reptile was trying to slither from one branch to one on another tree.

Limbless body, straining. A force capable of destroying continents acted. Another pushed and lifted. A nanosecond of conflict. The pseudosnake leaped, missed. Fell and died. It was more important than an exploding gas giant or massscale transmutation. The killer knew it. The lifter knew it.

A rock spoke. The temperature of the sun rose, fell, rose again. There was a sudden high tide with no moon in the sky. Moral considerations aside, it was apparent that the Vom

was winning.

With the resources of half a million years of accumulated knowledge and power, the Guardian-Machine fought back. Rut it had waited too long. Its power was finite. It could not grow as the Vom was, growing. Too strong, too quickly. Miscalculation. The Guardian Machine foresaw disaster.

The Vom was stronger now than it had been even when the Guardian was first activated, millenia ago.

The stimulus of battle forced it to grow exponentially. It would forge another empire dedicated to, constructed for, one purpose. The perpetuation and greater glory of the Vom. There would be no mistakes this time. No underestimation of an opponent. The Guardian must be rendered permanently inactive. This time the Vom would not abuse its life-resources. The small intelligences would be assimilated carefully, to insure continuation of a healthy ecosystem. No wanton consumption. Feeding would be judicious, entertainment and experiment well reasoned. It would ...

Something struck the Vern elsewise. Something strange, new, unaccountable, and utterly undetected aforehand. It was raw strength, more powerful even than the Guardian-Machine, but not as mature, as sophisticated in the use of power. It was different and it showed. It fought unrelentingly, uncompromisingly, openly. It fought mathematically diverse and helically perverse.

Unemotionally the Vom retreated, countered, struck back. The counterattack rebounded. No victory; no defeat.

The stalemate was resumed.