of Operators can ‘fold’ a whole ship through a Pool that’s built into the ship’s framework and make it pop out where they want it to.”
“And Kyllikki,” said Idom, “used to be one of the Teleod’s best Pool Operators.”
Elias’ eyes widened. “Yes. They use telepaths in the Pools That’s what this war is all about. Is that why you defected?”
“No. That’s something I don’t talk about.” Zimor had used Kyllikki’s talent as an Eight Families telepath and Bonder to make her into a powerful Pool Operator, but it had been the using she’d objected to, not the Operating. When she’d arrived in the Metaji, where Imperial policy called for the execution of all known Teleod Operators, her only chance for an exemption had been to volunteer for a “dangerous medical experiment”...retraining as a Metaji communicator. Part of the price she’d gladly paid to gain certification was the oath never to enter a Pool again, and having survived the mental probes and conditioning, she’d been given her freedom, as the law demanded. But very few below the rank of Duke other than Guild members knew the whole story. “I don’t appreciate Idom bringing it up.”
“Considering what he may face with us and because of us on Barkyr, he has a right to know,” insisted Idom, examining Elias. “Of her own free will, Kyllikki has forsaken the Pools because, despite her retraining as a Metaji telepath, any transit she made would probably be just as damaging to the substrata of space-time as ordinary Teleod Operation.”
“Lots of people seem convinced that’s what’s causing ships to disappear,” said Elias.
“It’s true,” said Idom with all the authority of his Guild. “Every passage of a Teleod ship leaves a gouge behind it that can throw the next Metaji ship off course. Routes have become so damaged that now Teleod ships can’t get through, and they’re using stronger methods that leave deeper gouges. They think that solves the problem. They think they can keep on devising ways to punch across the scarred tracks. The only reason no one in the Metaji is afraid that the firmament will collapse is that our calculations show that civilization will crumble long before the damage is serious.”
“You mean,” he said cautiously, “no more interstellar travel?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
Elias’ expression froze, but Kyllikki was certain she detected a frisson of real, personal fear beneath it, and a curious sense of bereavement. “I’ve seen the calculations,” she said, “and I’m convinced the Teleod Operators are causing the problem. It can be stopped. It’s political, not scientific. It can be done and it must be done.”
“You see,” added Idom, “Kyllikki will never add another scar to the crazing that’s already there. She’s doing all she can, at terrible personal cost, to help the Metaji abolish the Teleod Pool Operators before it’s too late. For that, we owe her all the protection we can devise.”
“Idom!” protested Kyllikki.
“It’s nothing but the truth and you know it.”
It wasn’t anything of the sort. She was no Metaji patriot. She was just a refugee from Zimor’s power. Unable to face her cousin down, she had run. “It doesn’t matter why I’m here. If they catch me—”
“Sovereigns Be!” swore Elias. “Com Officers handle sensitive military traffic! If they can get into your—”
“They can. Not just me, but Lee and all the Paitsmun as well. The technique invariably kills the subject. That’s why we need to agree on fictitious identities.”
Elias shook his head. “It won’t work. Not for long.”
“True, but they won’t have many telepaths assigned to interrogating prisoners. I can get Lee to pass the word to protect us. It might gain us some time before someone slips or sells us out, enough time for what we know to go stale.”
“Maybe,” agreed Idom with a disturbing light in his eye.
She suppressed a shiver of foreboding, telling herself that Idom wasn’t really foretelling the future. No science could do that, not even the one that could just count things and foretell where a ship would pop out of its Pool.
After that, they destroyed their uniforms and adopted the brown coverall the pod supplied. Idom insisted Kyllikki pick the new names, and she complied readily. She would be Kyllikki Abtrel, a trainee in Prosperity’s infirmary. Idom would be simply Idom Shigets, a very common name, and he could be listed as an in-system helmsman.
“You don’t need a new name,” she told Elias. “But I’ll get Captain Brev to list you as a passenger, and you can continue to be a musician who’s lost his equipment. The worst they might do is ask you to sing. But if they discover you were a passenger on Otroub, they’ll take your mind apart to verify the reason.”
Lee reported that his Search had found no trace of a working telepath in the direction of the approaching fleet. Kyllikki explained their plan, and he thought as little of it as they did. But he relayed their new biographies to the Captain, adding one for himself, and the Captain adjusted his log to support their claims. The Paitsmun were also cooperating, as their strategy called for their telepaths to disappear without a trace into the general population. Hours before the official surrender of Barkyr, the Guides’ Guild office was closed, the personnel dispersed.
When the official surrender came, Kyllikki, Idom, and Elias gathered around the pilot’s station, tuning and retuning the equipment to catch every crackling nuance of the invader’s signal. Coherent spectrum conditions this close to the star were not good, and their receivers were old and far from adequate. They were able to hear Barkyr, but the fleet’s transmissions were barely intelligible even after filtering.
At first, things went badly for Barkyr. The Attaché aboard the flagship of the fleet who was authorized to speak for the Teleod refused to accept the surrender from the Paitsmun who claimed to be Baron of Barkyr.
The Baron spent a good while attempting to establish credentials, but the Attaché was having none of it, and the Baron could not understand why. But Kyllikki did.
Schooling herself to remain strictly in audio-analogue, she gave a mental handclap aimed at the Paitsmun communicator she’d dealt with before the battle. //This is Prosperity Com Third. Tell your Baron that the Attaché will only deal with a human. She can’t grasp the idea that a nonhuman might have ranking authority, and she may in fact have instructions to deal directly only with humans.//
The nonverbal consternation that came back from her opposite number on the planet’s surface was eloquent.
//Kyllikki?// It was Lee. //Is that you?//
//It is, Lee. Did you hear what I told them?//
//I heard. Barkyr Control, this is Prosperity Com Second. My Com Third is absolutely correct. You must relay her information to your Baron for a decision.//
//Acknowledged, Prosperity. The situation is going to be much worse than we ever imagined. Thank you.//
Shortly after that, they heard the Baron break off and ask the fleet to stand by. There was a long silence.
The air in the pod had cycled through unbreathable and eye searing back to tolerable by the time they heard a new voice, and they were now close enough to pick up some fuzzy visuals from Barkyr. “This is Sir Timend of Vrai, speaking for the Barony of
