“Bozo! I’m HERE!”
In the blackness, Bozo’s image flashed up before her, jaws wide, red eyes blazing, great arms sweeping out to seize her.
The shield snapped shut.
Eyes still closed, Telzey swayed against the tree, listening to the echoes of the second explosion she’d heard today. This one had been short and sharp, monstrously loud, like a thunderbolt slamming into the earth a hundred feet from her.
She shook her head, opened her eyes, and looked across the dip. The cliff face on the eastern side had changed its appearance. A jagged dark fissure showed in it, beginning at the top, extending halfway down to the valley. Puffs of mineral dust still drifted out of the fissure into the open air.
She’d wondered what would happen if something more than five hundred pounds of solid animal materialized, suddenly deep inside solid rock. She’d expected it might be something like this. This time, Bozo hadn’t been able to flick back into no-space again.
“Goodbye, Bozo!” she said aloud, across the dip. “I won’t miss you at all!”
That had been one part of it, she thought.
And now the other.
The shield thinned again, opened out. And stayed open—one minute, two minutes, three—as her perceptions spread, searching for impressions of the psi mind that had cursed her with Bozo, long, long hours ago, at Robane’s house. That mind, or any mind like it.
And there was nothing. Nowhere around here, for many miles at least, was anyone thinking of her at the moment, giving her any attention at all.
Then you’ve lost me for now, she told them. She turned, stumbling, her balance not too good at the moment on the rocky ground, and pushed back through the bushes to the point where she’d left the Cloudsplitter. A minute later, she’d lifted the car above the ridges, swung it around to the south. Its canopy was closed and she was luxuriously soaking in the warmth of the heaters. She wanted to go to sleep very badly now, but there was one thing still to be done. It was nearly finished.
One section, a tiny section, of her mind was forming itself into an alarm system. It would remain permanently on guard against psis of the kind who’d nearly trapped her, for good. At the slightest, most distant indication that minds like that were about, long before she became consciously aware of them, her screens would lock into a shield and she would know why.
It was necessary. There was no reason to believe she was done with them. They’d relied on their trap; and it had failed. But they could go back now to the night Robane’s spook had been killed and try to find out who’d been involved in that. She’d covered herself as well as she could. It would involve a great deal of probing around in the minds of park personnel, a detailed checking of visitors’ registers at the entrance stations; but eventually they could work out a line on the psi who’d trespassed on their operation and locate her. If she were doing it herself, it shouldn’t take more than two weeks. She had to assume it would take them no longer.
Telzey felt her new alarm system complete itself, reached over and set the Cloudsplitter on the automatic controls which would guide it back down through the mountains into the warm southern plains of Melna Park to drift along with other tourist cars. Later, she thought, she’d decide what she’d have to be doing about the psis within the next two weeks. Later—
She slumped back gently in the seat and was instantly asleep.
VI: The Lion Game
Chapter 1
Telzey was about to sit down for a snack in her bungalow before evening classes when the ring she’d worn on her left forefinger for the past week gave her a sting.
It was a fairly emphatic sting. Emphatic enough to have brought her out of a sound sleep if she’d happened to be sleeping. She grimaced, pulled off the ring, rubbed her finger, slipped the ring back on, went to the ComWeb and tapped a button.
Elsewhere on the grounds of Pehanron College several other ComWebs started burring a special signal. One or the other of them would now be switched on, and somebody would listen to what she had to say. She’d become used to that; the realization didn’t disturb her.
What she said to her course computer was, “This is Telzey Amberdon. Cancel me for both classes tonight.”
The computer acknowledged. Winter rains had been pounding against Pehanron’s weather shields throughout the day. Telzey got into boots, long coat and gloves, wrapped a scarf around her head, and went out to the carport at the back of the bungalow. A few minutes later, her car slid out of Pehanron’s main gate, switched on its fog beams and arrowed up into a howling storm.
Somebody would be following her through the dark sky. She’d got used to that, too.
* * *
She went into a public ComWeb booth not long after leaving the college and dialed a number. The screen lit up and a face appeared.
“Hello, Klayung,” she said. “I got your signal. I’m calling from Beale.”
“I know,” said Klayung. He was an executive of the Psychology Service, old, stringy, mild-mannered. “Leave the booth, turn left, walk down to the corner. There’s a car waiting.”
“All right,” Telzey said. “Anything else?”
“Not till I see you.”
It was raining as hard on Beale as on Pehanron, and this section of the town had no weather shielding. Head bent, Telzey ran down the street to the corner. The door to the back compartment of a big aircar standing there opened as she came up. She slipped inside. The door closed.
Clouds blotted out the lights of Beale below as she was fishing tissues from her purse to dry her face. The big car was a space job though it didn’t look like one. She could see the driver silhouetted beyond the partition. They were alone in the car.
She directed a mental tap at the driver, touched a mind shield, standard Psychology Service type. There was no flicker of response or recognition, so he was no psi-operator.
Telzey settled back on the seat. Life had become a rather complicated business these days. She’d reported her experiences in Melna Park to the Psychology Service, which, among other things, handled problems connected with psi and did it quietly to avoid disturbing the public. The Service people went to work on the information she could give them. While she waited for results from that quarter, she had some matters to take care of herself.
Until now, her psi armament had seemed adequate. She should be able to wind up her law studies at Pehanron in another year, and she’d intended to wait till then before giving serious attention to psi and what could be done with it—or, at any rate, to what she could do with it.
Clearly, that idea had better be dropped at once! Half a psi talent could turn into a dangerous gift when it drew the attention of others who didn’t stick to halfway measures. She’d made a few modifications immediately. When she locked her screens into a shield now, they stayed locked without further attention, whether she was drowsy, wide awake or sound asleep, until she decided to open them again. That particular problem wouldn’t recur! What she needed, however, was a general crash course in dealing with unfriendly mentalities of more than average capability. The Service might be willing to train her, but not necessarily along the lines she wanted. Besides, she preferred not to become too obligated to them.
There was a psi she knew, an independent like herself, who should have the required experience, if she could get him to share it. Sams Larking wasn’t exactly a friend. He was, in fact, untrustworthy, unethical, underhanded and sneaky. The point nevertheless was that he was psi-sneaky in a highly accomplished manner, and packed a heavy mind clout. Telzey looked him up.
“Why should I help make you any tougher than you are?” Sams inquired.
She explained that Service operators had been giving her too much attention lately. She didn’t like the idea of having somebody prying around her like that.
Sams grunted. He hated the Psychology Service.
“Been up to something they don’t approve of, eh?” he said. “All right. Let’s see if we can’t have a few surprises ready for them the next time. You want to be able to spot them without letting them spot you, or send them home with lumps—that kind of thing?”
“That kind of thing,” Telzey agreed. “I particularly want to learn how to work through my own screens. I’ve noticed you’re very good at that. . . . The lumps could be sort of permanent, too!”
Sams looked briefly startled. “Getting rather ferocious, aren’t you?” He studied her. “Well, we’ll see how much you can handle. It can’t be done in an hour or two, you know. Drop in at the ranch first thing this weekend, and we’ll give it a couple of days. The house is psi-blocked, in case somebody comes snooping.”