And there it stood: Beyond all doubt, Controller Alfred Kruze would kill me.

What were the odds, then? How much chance did I have, for all my talk, of charging in to strike him down?

Only I didn't have any choice but to try. Not really. Not with Celeste's very life at stake.

Tight-lipped, I drew a long, deep breath.

Only then, incredibly, off beyond Kruze, by the warp-room's entrance, movement flickered.

The breath caught in my throat. I forced myself to hold my eyes full front on Kruze.

Over by the hatchway, the movement resolved itself into a death-pale, shadow-silent figure ... the figure of a woman, creeping out from behind the solid banks of micromesh transistors.

Celeste.

Only that was impossible.

I began to shake.

Kruze laughed. "It's not so easy, is it Traynor? Not when you know the other man will shoot!"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

And still Celeste moved, like a figure out of nightmare. Step after aching step, closer and closer to the entry.

Kruze again: "All right, Traynor. Make up your mind. Have you got the nerve or not?"

Against the wall, Celeste's sleeve whispered in the stillness. It seemed incredible that Kruze showed no sign that he heard it. Desperately, and in a voice that cracked till it held no faintest resemblance to my own, I said, "Don't worry, Kruze. I'm coming."

I poised, ready to lunge. Over by the hatch, Celeste was reaching out. Stretching, her fingers touched, then grasped, the light-switch.

Her eyes flicked to me in the same instant. Her other hand came up in a swift signal.

Like an echo, the lights blacked out.

I lunged, then. Sidewise and down, hurling myself away from the line of Kruze's aim.

 Prev. P 54/55 next