Tin Woodman by David Bischoff, Dennis R. Bailey Page B

senseless in the vacuum of space. All that the two creatures have been tumble aimlessly in shards, re-forming slowly and painstakingly, toward the eventual rebuilding of a new, random creature that would be both and yet neither. The mind fragments soar, begin to yield to the thoughts, feelings, fears, and dreams and hopes and memories of the other parts.
    And yet the fragments are distinguishable.
    “This is the beginning of our love,” Tin Woodman says. “Eventually, the pieces will meld, become one. A new creation, and a new being, will be totally born at last. Our consciousness will expand to feel the whole of space. We will be complete. We will be I. The emptiness that held me prisoner about that star system for so long is being filled. The Talent that separated you from your fellow humans all of your life is being fulfilled. You have found the chains that will set you free.”
    “And yet,” the part of him that was becoming Tin Woodman broke into his memory replay, “this is nothing that will happen quickly. Do not be concerned. The fact that you are not totally like Vul’s kind is a barrier that must be slowly surmounted. Understanding will come, soon enough, and you will see what we have done, what we are doing, and what is to be done. It is all one. There is much to teach you, and much for you to learn.”
    “You prevented Darsen from harming me, through Mora. You gave her that power.”
    “We both did. And we both have done other things—then. There has been a reason for every motion you made, every thought you had from the moment you felt my existence. The results of what we have done are not finished yet—you have seen to that.”
    “Me?”
    “ We , now.”
    “But how?”
    “Reach out. Reach out into space, and experience . It is all written in the cosmic energy flows.”
    Div reached out with the arms of his mind that Tin Woodman had given him, into the energy.
    “Soon, you will understand. And we will be complete,” said Tin Woodman, and Div realized that these thoughts were beginning to feel like his own.

    Edan Darsen slouched back into his command desk chair and rubbed his big hand down the side of his face, feeling the light stubble of his beard. Underneath the hand and stubble he was aware that an angry flush painted his broad face. He sucked in a breath and let it out raggedly, calming himself. His ability to command must not be questioned if he hoped to succeed in what he intended to do. And his intentions, after all, were of paramount importance—so important that he was willing to forego his vengeance upon Mora Elbrun for now to succeed in them.
    He stood. It was better, now. He had Mora back now, he told himself. Stupid of him to order that first psychemicidian treatment so hastily. But in a way that would be useful now—she knew what they were like, and the threat of further treatments could be a factor in his favor. She was the key . . . the link. If they could tap her, as Tamner had suggested they might . . .
    There he was—stiff and alert in his seat next to the sensor console.
    “Tamner?”
    “Yes, sir.” Tamner rose to attention perfectly, yet with no grace of movement.
    “Mr. Tamner, you are relieved of duties unrelated to our present project until further notice. The experiment will be accorded the utmost priority—your work is of great importance.”
    “Thank you, Captain.”
    Briskly, Darsen leaned over his desk and punched out a code on his intercom controls.
    “Security. Lieutenant Abriel,” erupted a voice immediately.
    “Captain Darsen here. I have just spoken to our fugitives, Lieutenant. Orders are presently being dispatched to the shuttle craft on proper handling once the recapture is effected. I don’t expect trouble, but be ready for it should it come. Most important is that the woman, Mora Elbrun, is not harmed, whatever may happen. She is to be taken to her quarters and placed under guard there until further notice. She should have no visitors unless I