Mindworlds by Phyllis Gotlieb Page A

your way home.
    â€œAll very well, next delivery of cattle embryos on Ungruwarkh that ship picks me up and by one or two jumps here I am in this ugly city—which is somewhat nearer to ships and cheaper than your beautiful one—still waiting for the lift that takes me to Khagodis.”
    The Lyrhht said suddenly, : And you found this place. You would not be working here if there was no information coming.:
    :There is a matter of being given admission, Lyhhrt … they must trust me first.:
    :And they had better do it soon,: the Lyhhrt said. : We also would like to do a favor to Khagodis. Not to wait.:
    â€œYeh, that is a long story, Rrengha,” Ned said, playing up, and also wondering how Rrengha and the Lyhhrt had become so close so quickly.
    Rrengha said in a mindvoice that was like letters of fire, : We two peoples know each other many long years, Ned Gattes .: And then, loudly, “Aar! Pretty soon I get tired of moping about here. I want lots of space and fresher smells!” A thump of her tail signified that the conversation had ended.
    Ned, because he was an old hand at the business, felt one of those synapses, at once insight, resentment, relief: first the realization that Rrengha was a Galactic Federation agent, at least a temporary one, because GalFed never deals out any
money without exacting service, if only on a while-you’re-at-it basis; resentment at adding another member to the team at the risk of making it unwieldy; relief that the new addition was as powerful a force as Rrengha.
    Even though Ungrukh and Lyhhrt had had their disagreements during their long years of history. Spartakos, at least, was peaceful, having pulled away from his concentration on the O’e woman and shadowed himself in a corner.
    Ned muttered, “We can’t hang around here forever. In the meantime there’s no bloody lift.” He rose and sauntered to the dark corner where the man with the quiet thin voice had said, Been a lot of hiring offworld.
    : Be careful with that one!: the Lyhhrt said sharply. : He is well armed.:
    Ned said, : So am I.: If Lyhhrt/Spartakos/Rrengha with their minds/lasers/fangs were not weaponry, what was? He sat down at the small corner table and regarded the man, who looked back at him mildly enough. “My name’s Ned Gattes.”
    â€œLek here.” He was a scrawny man with rough-cut hair, a scrag moustache and a point of beard under it. He was wearing clothes as worn as himself and a conical felt hat with a curled brim, and had no woman or jewelry to show off. He drew on a dopestick and let the smoke curl away from his mouth. “I know of you, and everybody’s heard of Metallo Man but that other one doesn’t look useful.”
    â€œThey come with me, that’s all.”
    â€œAre they worth anything?”
    â€œDepends what you want them to do.”
    â€œThat half-rotten O’e?”
    â€œHe’ll fight for my sake.”
    â€œI can find a fight for you—not in any arena, not in this bar either … not on this world. You’d have to pick a side.”
    â€œThat’s what you expect in a fight. What kind of sides?”
    â€œWhat kind do you want?”

    Ned sucked the last drop from his squeezer. “The one with the money.”
    â€œGood choice.” The O’e woman came forward to clear the table and Lek set down his mug, and smiled. She turned her head and shoulders away as if she were warding off a blow, and hurried away quickly. He watched her beaded helmet glittering and the swirl of her flowered gown and said, “Some of them aren’t bad looking if you don’t look too close … .”
    â€œYeh,” Ned said, and waited. He could feel a hot trickle of sweat running down from his left armpit and wished he had taken his jacket off.
    â€œYour robot friend collects them, doesn’e?”
    â€œLyhhrt made both of them. Birds of a feather.”
    Lek snorted. “They fight for