by Mind Guest
any of his friends or hirelings get anywhere near him. If we can keep
Bellna safe until she marries Remo, Clero will be stopped cold until he
can think of something else."
"Which brings you right back to the big if," I said, leaning back in
the lump chair. "You can decoy Clero away if you can find a stand-in
for Bellna. None of the women I've seen in this base looks much like
her, but I suppose padding, make-up and a wig would take care of that.
Why don't you use one of the gals you have here?"
"Because none of them are trained fighters," Dameron said, in a voice
charged with frustration. "They've all had field experience to one
degree or another, but whoever goes out as decoy has to expect to be
the object of Clero's attempt at bloody murder. The Tildorani are still
in the sword-swinging stage before gunpowder, but that only means that
our decoy has to be able to handle a blade well enough so that she
needn't depend on protection from someone else. Getting separated from
outside protection can happen all too easily. Whoever does the decoy
work not only has to look exactly like Bellna, she also has to be able
to fight a whole lot better than that pretty little girl."
The block to Dameron's right reverted to its original picturelessness
as Dameron tapped keys on his terminal, but I sat and frowned at it a
minute before shifting my eyes back to the man.
"What do you mean, the decoy has to look exactly like Bellna?" I asked,
watching him as he tapped at keys. "I can understand the need for
fighting ability, but aren't you crowding your options a little by
insisting on an exact look-alike? It could be years before you found
anyone like that - if you ever did. I thought you said you had less
than a week."
"I don't have to find someone who looks exactly like Bellna," Dameron
said with a snort of faint amusement, still paying attention to his
terminal. "The changes in facial structure and all will require only
minor Healing, nothing major involved. Less than a week gives us more
than enough time for it - if we can find someone to change soon enough.
If we didn't need that relationship with the barbarians so badly-"
His voice trailed off as the symbols of his terminal took his attention again, and I didn't say anything more to distract him, being too busy
with my own thoughts. If I was understanding him correctly - and I
didn't see how I could be mistaken Dameron's people were able to change
anyone to look like anyone else as easily as my people shuttled back
and forth from planets to orbital stations. The possibilities inherent
in the process were endless and fascinating, especially in my line of
work. If I could be changed to look like - oh, that young girl Bellna,
for instance, I could get away with almost anything I tried. Rather
than depending on my brown hair and eyes to let me melt into a crowd as
camouflage, I could let red hair and blue eyes distract any male to the
point where I could stalk a target, reach him, and then walk away
without ever being suspected of anything nasty. No one would believe
that a fifteen year old girl could be a Special Agent, and that would
give me more of an edge than being female did. I crossed my legs as I
watched pictures parading past my inner eye, and forgot all about
Dameron.
At least until he made a sound of pleased surprise and turned away from
his terminal. His face was lit with hopeful excitement, and he bounced
out of his chair as if he had just shed ten years of heavy worry.
"The gods must be on our side in this one," he said through a grin as
he headed for the door. "One of the gals from post nine is on her way
in, and should be here any minute. You just relax where you are, girl.
I won't be long."
By that time the door was already sliding closed behind him, so there
wasn't much sense in trying to argue. I was annoyed at being left there
to sit and twiddle when I could have been a good number of parsecs on
my way back home, but there wasn't anything I could do about it until
Dameron got back. I leaned back in the lump chair again and began
sketching out a going-home campaign that would grab Dameron's attention
by the throat and hold it long enough to get something done.
I had developed a line of attack with enough variables to cover almost
any contingency and was ready to start fleshing it out with carefully
chosen detail, when the door to the room slid open again. I thought it
was Dameron coming back, but the figure walking through the opening
belonged to the one who had been called Valdon. he had dark black hair
and dark black eyes, and although he wasn't quite as big as the junior
giant named Leandor, he didn't miss by much. he moved as lightly and
with as much confidence as the leader of the field team had, which was
usually unexpected in such big men. he hesitated very briefly when he
saw me, as though he hadn't expected to find me there, then headed
straight for Dameron's chair.
"Well, there you are again," he observed, sitting down and keying the
terminal to life without taking his eyes off me. "I saw you earlier,
with Dameron, in the communications room."
"Yes, I remember that," I observed back, keeping the answer neutral and
uncommitted. I didn't know where this Valdon stood in the base, but the
fewer people who knew about my origins, the better. It might be
necessary for Dameron and his second to have all the details, but as
far as I was concerned that was still two too many. Either one of them
could, at any time, come up with a dozen great reasons for keeping me
there a while longer, and the more people who knew about me, the better
the chance that some mental lightbulbs would glow. Leaving the base
amid tearful good-byes was preferable to fighting my way out of it, so
a low profile was definitely a high priority.
The terminal beeped for attention, giving Valdon something else to
stare at, but the distraction didn't last long. There were only three
rows of symbols for him to glance at and respond to, and then his dark black eyes were on me again.
"How do you like our facilities?" he asked, as though just making
conversation to while away the time. "The base is pretty standard, but
we like to think we have better optionals than any other outpost in the
Confederacy."
"I'm sure you do," I agreed in a sober way, leaving it to him to decide
whether I was agreeing with his opinion or his conclusion. A faint
shadow that might have been annoyance flickered in his eyes while he
waited for me to add to my four word statement, and when I didn't he
stirred in the squarish chair.
"We don't often get visitors like you, and I'm curious about you," he
admitted in a friendly, outgoing way. "I'm assuming you're lost, and
were heading somewhere else. Where were you going, and how long did it
take you to get here?"
He was playing it casual, asking his too-pointed questions and trying
to keep his interested inspection of me from becoming overly obvious.
he seemed to be a man who felt no discomfort from really looking at a
woman, but who had learned that many women flinched from that sort of
hunter's interest. I couldn't remember a time when the thought of being
hunted didn't amuse and interest me more than bother me, but the
opportunity was too good to miss.
"I-really don't remember," I answered only the last of his questions,
swallowing hard as I looked down at my hands in my lap. I had quietly
drawn my knees together and was sitting as stiffly and primly as the
lump chair allowed. "How much longer do you think Dameron will be?"
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be back any minute," Valdon's voice rushed to
reassure me, his tone a shade too jolly. "How about something to drink
while we're waiting?"
"Drink?" I echoed as if I'd never heard the word before, and nearly
panicked. I was letting it all fall apart at once, as though my
previous coolness had been no more than a front I couldn't maintain any
longer. Valdon was a very handsome man, with the sort of masculine
features and mannerisms that too often flustered women right into
hysterics. If the way he shrugged meant anything, he'd had to face that
particular problem be-fore and shouldn't be too hard to divert from
detectiving.
"Yes, a drink," he repeated with a pleasant smile. "As a matter of
fact, I'll be glad to join you. What would you like?"
He started to get out of Dameron's chair, anxious to be doing something
other than trying not to stare at me, but he'd asked another question
that it wouldn't be safe to give a non-specific answer to. The man
might be temporarily flustered, but he wasn't likely to be stupid; too
many artful evasions would be bound to set him thinking. Instead of
registering his question in any way I scrambled out of the lump chair
and backed away from him in mute, wide-eyed fear, hoping I wasn't
pushing the act too far. I fully expected to back out the door into the
corridor, but found myself startled for real when the door didn't slide
open behind me. I'd been wondering why Dameron had been so casual about
leaving me unaccompanied and unwatched, and now I'd accidentally gotten
the answer. Being locked in annoyed the hell out of me, but for the
sake of the performance I was putting on for Valdon, I couldn't let it
show.
"This is ridiculous," Valdon muttered, straightening slowly Out of the
chair, seeming annoyed. "You're act as though I'm about to attack you.
My self-control is really a lot better than that - I haven't attacked a
woman in months."
He grinned a very attractive grin to show he was just kidding, but I couldn't afford to chuckle in answer the way I wanted to. I gave him a
sickly smile to show I was trying, and put a shaky hand to my hair.
"I know I'm being silly, but I can't help it," I said in a very small
voice, sending him a pleading look. "The way you were looking at me,
the way you talk - I'm just not used to it. Do you think you can go and
see what's keeping Dameron?"
To say I was trying to get rid of him was an understatement, and I was
expecting him to be more than happy to g0 - but things didn't work out
that way. A deeply frustrated expression flashed briefly across his
face, and then he was looking apologetic.
"I already know what's keeping Dameron, and I'm afraid I have to stay
here," he said, very sincere compassion clear in his tone. "I've got to
keep an eye on the progress of certain of our projects until he gets
back, and I've got to do it with this terminal. You don't mind sharing
the room with me for that short a time, do you?"
He brought the grin back and made it really warm, trying to jolly me
out of my upset and interest me by turning on the charm. The only
problem with that was that in another minute we'd be back to chummy
conversation and more questions, the avoidance of which was my original
reason for starting that nonsense. I needed him gone or neutralized,
and if I couldn't have one I'd have to settle for the other; it all
depended on how gullible he was. I let my eyes begin filming over with
tears, and plucked nervously at the one-piece suit t was wearing.
"But I'm afraid of you," I whispered, making sure my voice came out
ragged. "I've never been this close to someone like you before, someone
who has actually worked among uncivilized barbarians. You keep looking
at me the way one of them would - I'm going to cry hard, I just know I
am!"
I sniffled a little, finding it damned hard not to burst out laughing
at the stricken look that replaced his well-practiced grin. Most men
were sensible enough to ignore blackmail tears, but every now and then
one would come along who turned to quivering jelly at the first choked
sob and/or glisten of moisture. I was almost ashamed to go on taking
advantage, but he'd had his chance to bail out and hadn't taken it. It
was too bad, but business was business.
"Now, now, you don't really want to cry," he said, looking as though he
wanted to come closer and put his manly arms around me - but didn't
dare. "What if I promise not to look at you the way one of them would?
That would make you feel better, wouldn't it?"
"I don't know," I snuffled, sounding absolutely forlorn. "Maybe - maybe
- if you didn't look at me at all -"
"That's a good idea," he agreed with enthusiasm, turning completely
around to look at me over his shoulder. "This is better, isn't it?"
"You're still looking at me," I pointed out with the same quiver in my
voice. "And you're much too close. And you sound so - so - overawing."
"All right, all right, I'll take care of it," he said, that close to
growling. I wasn't sure there was such a word as overawing, but he was
still trying to keep me from being overawed. he turned his head
completely away from me, stalked up to the wall directly behind
Dameron's block-chair-terminal arrangement, then spoke to the wall.
"This had better do it for you," he said, making sure not to turn
again. "I've never been very good at melting into polycrete."
"Oh, that's perfect," I gushed, with a slight grin. "If you can only
stay like that until Dameron comes back, I'm sure I won't cry."
"You have no idea how much those words mean to me," he muttered,
folding his arms across his chest to signal an end to the conversation
that frightened me so much. I laughed without sound as I eased myself over to the second lump chair and then into it, finally stretching out
to prop my feet on the block Dameron had done so much with. I would
have put Valdon into the room's corner if I hadn't thought that would
be pushing it, but seeing him standing in front of the wall like a
naughty little boy was almost as good. If he hadn't been considering me
a helpless little flutterhead of a female he never would have gone
along with my insistances, so he deserved whatever he got for that as
well as for being too nosy.
Another twenty minutes or so passed with Valdon shifting at the wall
but doing no more than that, a pleasant silence surrounding us that let
me go on with developing my campaign against Dameron. I was ready to
pull my feet down if the termi
nal signaled for Valdon's attention, but
the interruption never came and Valdon never turned. I was finding it
hard to believe that a grown man could be put to a wall and kept there
with such a pack of nonsense, but that's the way it went until the door
to the room slid noiselessly aside and Dameron stepped in. he stopped
in the doorway to stare first at Valdon and then at me, and a look of
confusion settled on his broad features.
"What are you two doing?" he asked, sounding and looking bewildered.
"We were waiting for you to get back," I answered, looking up at him
without moving even though Valdon turned immediately away from the
wall. "You certainly took long enough."
"There was more involved than I thought there - I still don't
understand." Dameron's bewilderment was about to turn into annoyance.
"Why is Valdon standing near the wall all the way over there, while
you're - what the hell is going on?"
"Nothing's going on," I assured him, putting my feet down and standing
up to face him. Valdon was staring at me without saying a word, but I
had more pressing matters to think about. "Why don't you and I take a
little walk and see to that chore we were discussing earlier? It won't
take long, and then you can concentrate on Narella without any
distractions. And there are a few other very pertinent advantages I'll
be glad to point out on the way. You might say it'll be an offer you
can't refuse."
I gave him an impatient grimace, but before he could answer, another
precinct was heard from.
"I could be mistaken, but it sounds as if you're over your bout of
shyness," Valdon observed, his deep voice having intensified. "Or is it
just those of us who have really worked with 'uncivilized barbarians'
who make you want to cry?"
"I'm very unprejudiced," I said, looking over my shoulder at Valdon's
annoyance. "If the situation calls for it, I'm willing to shed a few
tears for anyone. Are you feeling cheated because I didn't make good on
the threat?"
"She threatened you?" Dameron demanded of Valdon, still trying to
figure out what was going on. "What did you do to her?"
"I - 'overawed' her," Valdon answered dryly, as he stared at me. "I
made her so nervous by the ferocious way I looked at her and talked to
her that she almost had hysterics. I had to promise not to look at her
