“Just like when I jumped without knowing it,” Hector said.
“Exactly. Now, it was my hope that the dueling machine would amplify the pyschic talent in you. It did once, but it’s not doing it now.”
“Maybe I don’t really have it.”
“Maybe,” Leoh admitted. Then, leaning forward in his chair and pointing a stubby finger at the Watchman, he added, “Or maybe something’s upsetting you so much that your talent is buried, dormant, switched off.”
“Yes -. well, uh, that is,…”
“Is it Geri? I haven’t seen -her around here lately. Perhaps if she could’come . . . after all, she was one of the conditions of your original jump, wasn’t she?”
“She won’t come here,” Hector said miserably.
“Eh? Why not?”
The Watchman blurted, “Because she wanted me to murder Odal and I wouldn’t, so she’s sore at me and won’t even talk to me on the view phone.”
“What? What’s this? Take it slower, son.”
Hector explained the whole story of Geri’s insistence that Odal be killed.
Leaning back in the chair, fingers steepled on his broad girth, Leoh said, “Hmm. Natural enough, I suppose. The Acquatainians have that sort of outlook. But somehow I expected better of her.”
“She won’t even talk to me,” Hector repeated.
“But you did the right thing,” said Leoh. “At least, you were true to your upbringing and your Star Watch training. Vengeance is a paltry motive, and nothing except self-defense can possibly justify killing a man.”
‘Tell it to her.”
“No, my boy,” Leoh said, pulling himself up and out of the chair. “You must tell her. And in no uncertain terms.”