Whipping Star Part 49

"Contract . . . surety! How did he insure the payoff?"

"Oh. He appointed phylum mates of my selection as managers on the chosen worlds."

"Neat," McKie said. "Simple hiring agreements. Who could fault a deal like that or prove anything by it?"

McKie brought out his toolkit, removed the holoscan, set it for projection, and dialed the record he wanted. Presently the scan which the Wreave enforcer had captured through the jumpdoor danced in the air near the Palenki. McKie slowly turned the projection full circle, giving the Palenki a chance to see the face from every angle.

"Is that Cheo?" he asked.

"The scars present the identical pattern. It is the same one."

"That's a valid ID," McKie said, glancing at Bildoon. "Palenkis can identify random line patterns better than any other species in the universe."

"Our phylum patterns are extremely complex, "the Palenki boasted.

"We know," McKie said.

"What good does this do us?" Bildoon asked.

"I wish I knew," McKie said.

No language has ever really come to grips with temporal relationships.

-A Gowachin Opinion

McKie and Tuluk were arguing about the time-regeneration theory, ignoring the squad of enforcers guarding them, although it was obvious their companions found the argument interesting.

The theory was all over the Bureau by this time -- about six hours after the session with the Palenki phylum leader, Biredch of Ank. It had about as many scoffers as it had supporters.

At McKie's insistence, they had taken over one of the interspecies training rooms, had set up a datascan console, and were trying to square Tuluk's theory with the subatomic alignment phenomenon discovered in the rawhide and other organic materials captured from Abnethe.

It was Tuluk's thought that the alignment might point toward some spatial vector, giving a clue to Abnethe's hideout.

"There must be some vector of focus in our dimension," Tuluk insisted.

"Even if that's true, what good would it do us?" McKie asked. "She's not in our dimension. I say we go back to the Caleban's . . ."

"You heard Bildoon. You don't go anywhere. We leave the Beachball to enforcers while we concentrate on . . ."

"But f.a.n.n.y Mae's our only source of new data!"

"f.a.n.n.y . . . oh, yes; the Caleban."

Tuluk was a pacer. He had staked out an oval route near the room's instruction focus, tucked his mandibles neatly into the lower fold of his facial slit, and left only his eyes and breathing/speech orifice exposed. The flexing bifurcation which served him as legs carried him around a chairdog occupied by McKie, thence to a point near a Laclac enforcer at one extreme of the instruction focus, thence back along a mixed line of enforcers who milled around across from a float-table on which McKie was doodling, thence around behind McKie and back over the same route.

Bildoon found them there, waved the pacing Wreave to a halt. "There's a mob of newspeople outside," he growled. "I don't know where they got the story, but it's a good one. It can be described in a simple sentence: 'Calebans linked to threatened end of universe!' McKie, did you have anything to do with this?"

"Abnethe," McKie said, not looking up from a complicated chalf doodle he was completing.

"That's crazy!"

"I never said she was sane. You know how many news services, 'caster systems, and other media she controls?"

"Well . . . certainly, but . . ."

"Anybody linking her to this threat?"

"No, but . . ."

"You don't find that strange?"

"How could any of these people know she . . ."

"How could they not know about Abnethe's corner on Calebans?" McKie demanded. "Especially after talking to you!" He got up, hurled his chalf scribe at the floor, started up an aisle between rows of enforcers.

"Wait!" Bildoon snapped. "Where're you going?"

"To tell 'em about Abnethe."

"Are you out of your mind? That's all she needs to tie us up -- a slander and libel case!"

"We can demand her appearance as accuser," McKie said. "Should've thought about this earlier. We're not thinking straight. Perfect defense: truth of accusation."

Bildoon caught up with him, and they moved up the aisle in a protective cordon of enforcers. Tuluk brought up the rear.

"McKie," Tuluk called, "you observe an inhibition of thought processes?"

"Wait'll I check your idea with Legal," Bildoon said. "You may have something, but . . ."

"McKie," Tuluk repeated. "do you . . ."

"Save it!" McKie snapped. He stopped, turned to Bildoon. "How much more time you figure we have?"

"Who knows?"

"Five minutes, maybe?" McKie asked.

"Longer than that, surely."

"But you don't know."

I have enforcers at the Caleban's . . . well, they're keeping Abnethe's attacks to a min --"

"You don't want anything left to chance, right?"

"Naturally, not that I'd . . ."

"Well, I'm going to tell those newsies out there the . . ."