"Helly?" Bea Mangan said anxiously.

"I just had a thought. I'll have to follow through on it. The odds are long, but the Rampart situation might not be completely hopeless after all. Listen, Bea. You come here tomorrow with Ef Sontag and your genetic profiling equipment. And I'd also like you to bring a Hogan H-18 miniaturized low-power psychotronic interrogation device."

"Of course. I can borrow one from Enforcement. Is there anything else?"

"Pray," I said, and told her goodbye.

Joanna regarded me with a puzzled expression. I said, "Give me a minute." Then I sat still, closed my eyes, and tried to remember a phone code, unlisted, that I'd used only once before, months ago. A code that might mean the difference between galactic war or peace.

Got it, you crafty blue bastard, you!

I tapped the pads. This time I left the viewer turned on. There was no need for extra encryption. The man I was calling had the best personal security in the universe.

He answered his phone, stared at me, and said, "Good God in heaven!"

"No, sir," I corrected him. "Helly Frost, back from a very bad trip. Captured by the enemy in the Sagittarius Whorl. Demicloned and horribly transmogrified by Haluk villains. But my Barky Hunt wasn't a fiasco. I got the answers we were looking for. Do you want to hear about it?"

"Yes," said Adam Stanislawski evenly. "If you can prove you are who you say you are." No hesitation, no emotional dithering. He weighed Drumrnond's Helly persona against my unlikely claim and was willing to keep an open mind! What a guy ...

"Have you ever heard of Joanna DeVet, Morehonse Professor of Poli Sci at Commonwealth University?"

"The former wife of Asahel Frost. I've read several of her books. Thought they were brilliant."

"I'm at her house in Cabbagetown. If you come here tomorrow morning at about 0700 hours, I'll prove who I am with a DNA test and a truth machine. After that I'd like you to get hold of your man John Ellington, Vice Chairman of Rampart. Have him force Gunter Eckert to call an immediate emergency meeting of Rampart's Board of Directors- without the participation of the individual presently masquerading as Asahel Frost."

Stanislawski frowned thoughtfully, then a broad smile broke over his shrewd, guarded features. "I see. Turning the pocket Delegates, eh?"

"There ain't no flies on you, sir. You guessed it. It was Joanna's idea."

"Is Professor DeVet there? Let me talk to her."

I pushed the phone in front of her. She said, "Good evening, Citizen Stanislawski.

Thank you for your kind words about my books. I'm rather surprised, since they condemn the coercive role of business in galactic politics. I'm even more surprised that my former husband should have contacted you under these extreme circumstances."

"Is it really Helly?"

"Absolutely. Escaped from Haluk durance vile. They cloned him."

"I'll be damned. Tell me how to get to your house."

She did. "Until seven tomorrow, then, citizen."

"I'm really looking forward to it, Professor."

She ended the call, folded the phone, and uncovered the dish of chicken.

"Eat your food now, while it's hot. Would you like an Irish coffee? I'm going to have one. Maybe several. It's decaf, so it won't prevent you from sleeping." She picked up the carafe and began filling a glass mug.

Sleep! With my brain fumbling to process the stunning developments of the past half hour, there was small hope of that. But I said, "Sounds good to me, babe."

She partially filled both mugs from the carafe, stirred in a little sugar, added generous measures of whiskey, inverted a spoon and used it to carefully float a layer of heavy cream on top. We lifted the mugs and tapped them together, simultaneously murmuring, "Cheers." Sipped, avoiding each other's eyes.

I began picking dutifully at the food. The baked chicken was meltingly tender and delicious, but I had no appetite. I should have made small talk, asked about her work at Commonwealth University, her life during the years we'd been apart.

I couldn't. The nearness of her, the very real possibility that I'd be killed tomorrow by alien agents or the hirelings of Alistair Drummond-even the lingering scent of the goddamned lavender bath oil-had cranked up my blood pressure to the point where I didn't even trust myself to speak to the woman seated across the table from me.

I wanted her so much.

Goofy old human nature has a paradoxical instinct that sometimes asserts itself under circumstances of impending peril: before the male Neanderthal goes out to hunt the mammoth, before the knight sallies forth against the invincible foe, before the Sioux warrior meets the Seventh Cavalry, before battered Blue Supercop charges blindly into the lair of the corporate bad guys.

But this time around my body's urgent need to reaffirm life was doomed to frustration.

If it was only a need, and not a symptom of something deeper ...

Seeing my alien hands clumsily manipulating the knife and fork, painfully conscious of the awful face that had stared back at me from the bathroom mirror, I was prey to a burning sense of self-loathing and despair that was only partially associated with my horrifying appearance. I had rejected my wife out of stupid pride, denied my feelings for her because I had been afraid, come back to her only as a last resort.

Persons I'd respected had told me that I had never stopped loving Joanna: Mimo Bermudez, Matilde Gregoire, my sister Eve. I'd denied it with all my strength, even as I kept the two wedding rings on their platinum chain. I was still trying to deny it, now that we were together again and the situation was hopeless.

I was no longer a man, and yet I was.

Joanna sat in apparent ease, bare feet crossed at the ankles, red velvet robe falling away from her white gown, watching the drifting moon-jellies when it became evident that I was incapable of conversation. Finally I couldn't eat any more. She cleared the table and put the dirty dishes into a dumbwaiter.

"Would you like another Irish coffee, Helly?" So polite and compassionate toward the poor freak.

"Yes, please. No cream this time."

She handed the cup to me but didn't resume her seat, walking instead to the windows overlooking the street and briefly parting the drapes. "This is a very safe part of the city, regularly patrolled and well-equipped with security devices. I'm sure you'll be all right staying with me."

"Just show me the guest room," I said. "Or I can lie down here on one of the couches."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," she insisted. "If we're careful, there's no reason why any of your enemies should suspect you're here. I'd also be happy to help with your ... appointments at Rampart Tower and the Assembly tomorrow."

"I couldn't possibly jeopardize your safety or impose on you any more than I already have."

"But where will you go?" She seemed genuinely concerned. "Helly, there'll be a media frenzy! And you'll be in danger from Drummond and the Haluk, no matter how the vote goes."

"I have a hiding place in mind," I said brusquely. "Don't worry about me." After I'd done what I could in Toronto, I'd go to the place I'd thought of earlier. My first idea had been to retreat to Karl Nazarian's fortified cottage; but I'd rejected that idea instantly. It would be one of the first places my enemies would look.

And Karl might have already gone the way of Jake Silver ...

I drank down the last of the coffee, gabbling about how grateful I was to Joanna for her kindness. If she wanted to do more, she could provide me with a file of news magazines and holovid newscasts. I'd spend the night skimming them, since I doubted I'd be able to sleep.

"Poor Helly," she said, smiling. "I'll gladly do that for you if you wish. But there are better ways to relax." She untied her robe, slipped it off, and tossed it onto a chair. Then she began to undo the long golden braid of her hair.

The coffee cup almost fell out of my hand. I said, "Joanna."

She said, "My dear. I've missed you so very much."

"No," I moaned. Alien flesh, human hormones. Oh, God. I was coming alive again.

They were.

"Let me see you." She had turned off the room lamps with a snap of her fingers and was undoing the front buttons of her demure white nightdress one by one. It was made of some delicate opaque fabric, with soft lace at the wrists and collar. The only illumination came from the opalescent sea creatures that seemed to float in the virtual water behind her. I could see the thrust of her nipples, her shining eyes.

"I'm hideous," I said hoarsely. "Changed. You don't understand."

She shook her head, the smile widening. "You're intriguing. A fantasy come alive.

Don't tell me you've never thought about such things. All human beings have."

The gown fell to the floor. Her wonderful body was the same as always, pale and glowing, with an ash-blond ecu that matched her long hair. She lowered the zipper of my track suit, removed the jacket, slipped her cool hands under my T-shirt and lifted it.

"Oh!" Not revolted, interested. Caressing my chest's bizarre cobalt trapunto ridges, the twin rows of vestigial mammaries like ornate golden buttons on a hussar's coat. "What in the world are these?"

"Fuckin' extras," I muttered. "The damned Haluk have litters." She pulled the T-shirt off. "And that's not the worst of it. Please don't-"

She was fitting her hands around my stupid wasp waist. "That's amazing! How in the world does it accommodate your diaphragm and digestive tract?"

"I don't know! Joanna, for the love of God-"

She took my face in both hands, drew it down and kissed me, long and slow, savoring the alien juices of my mouth, accepting the responding thrusts of my awful tongue, crushing her body eagerly against mine, feeling my erection but still not aware of the ultimate indignity.

"Now," she said at last, drawing me to the large central couch. Her eyes were like stars. "My love. My dearest alien love."

Despairing, desperate, on the brink, I said, "Look!"

Tore off the rest of my clothing and let her see me naked.

"Two?" she whispered in disbelief. "But how-"

"I don't know!" I roared, feeling tears of frustrated lust start from my eyes. "I don't know!"

"Then we'll have to experiment," she said. Her face was radiant and her touch gentle.

"The entire ensemble is more streamlined. Elegant. Very different, of course, but actually quite beautiful." "Beautiful....?"

"Hush now," she said, and began the experimentation.

I crept out of her bed shortly after 0500 hours, leaving her deep in sleep, and had a quick shower. After collecting my clothes from the sitting room and putting them on, I took the phone down to the kitchen to make my call to Karl Nazarlan.

Once again I cut out the video option. Before entering his personal code, I programmed an emergency voice-mail override and activated his ringer. Then I held my breath as the buzzing began.

Be there, old friend. Don't be dead because of me.

His face appeared, puffy from slumber and mad as a hornet. "Who's there? Do you know what friggin' time it is?"

I said, "It's five twenty-two on a dark November morning."

"Show your face, you inconsiderate bastard!" he raged. "Hector, if this is you calling from that goddamned deer-camp of yours, I'm going to wring your bloody black neck."

"It's not Hector." I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible. "Engage Phase XII encryption, Karl. Do it now. Someone might be listening."

I heard cursing, some of it in a language that might have been Armenian, then the signals indicating that the call was secure.

"Well?" Karl snarled. "If you know me, you know that nobody ever, ever taps my phone. Who the hell is this?"

"It's Helly Frost. The real one, not the demiclone fake who's been masquerading as me for the past half year."

"The real-"

"Asahel Ethan Frost, alias Helmut Icicle, alias Cap'n Helly, the fish-flickin' fool of Eyebrow Cay, freesoil planet Kedge-Lockaby, Zone 23, Perseus Spur."

"Oh, my God!"

"The Haluk bagged me out in Sagittarius and made a Helly demiclone. I finally escaped from the xenos a few days ago-and I'm ringy, riled, and swoll up with mad like a chuckwalla lizard trapped in a fuckin' hobnail boot!"

"It's you, all right," Karl conceded after a brief, incredulous silence. "Now that I think about it, your double never did quite come across as a proper cowboy."

"I'll bet. The fictitious gent hi question is none other than our old chum, Alistair Drummond."

"Christ on a crutch! They turned Drummond into a demi of you?"

"Yeah. I'm going to have a devil of a job taking him down, too. But I'll do it or die trying."

"That sneaking bastard! He did an incredible job. Played you to the hilt. I don't mind telling you it nearly broke my heart when it seemed you were repudiating all the evidence against the Haluk that we sweated blood for. I had to figure you'd sold out to protect Rampart's bottom line. You want to tell me the whole story?"

"Later. I need your help, Karl. Right now, if you can manage it."

"Where you calling from?"

"I'm at my ex-wife's place in Toronto." I gave him the address, told hun about the lack of adjacent hopper pads, pleaded with him to come as soon as possible, as clandestinely as possible, in a ground vehicle. "No problem at all. My girlfriend has a catering business. I'll borrow one of her vans."

"Girlfriend?" Karl had been a solitary widower for as long as I'd known him.

"Lots of things happened while you were floating. Some good, some not so good.

What do you need? Weapons?"

"An Ivanov Squire will suffice. I also need a phone primed with a new personal code-use the name Helmut Icicle. Get into Rampart's database, retrieve all my old dex listings and links, and install them in the new phone."

"Uh-huh. Anything else?"

"A set of full soft body armor, size XLT; a regular Anonyme anorak in XL; a pair of lightweight mittens; a sturdy pair of boots, size twelve medium. Oh, yes. Another set of Joru robes. No makeup or fright-wig necessary this time."

I told him briefly what I hoped to accomplish that day at Rampart Tower and at the Commonwealth Assembly. He uttered a disappointed expletive when I told him how tight the time frame was for scrubbing the new Haluk colonies, and wanted to know how the interactive citizen vote could be invoked.