pment here?"

"The equipment's here--in my office. I guessed your spies would report
it, so it had to be here. But it won't help you now, pariah Feldman!"

He came from his braced position against the sink like a spring
uncoiling. He expected her to shoot, but hoped the surprise would ruin
her aim. Then it was too late, and his boot hit the gun savagely,
knocking it from her hand. Life in the villages had hardened him
surprisingly. She was comparatively helpless in his hands. A few minutes
later, he had her bound securely with surgical tape Molly brought him.
She raged furiously in the chair where he'd dumped her, then gave up.

"They'll get you, Daniel Feldman!" Surprisingly, there was no rage in
her voice now. "You won't get away from us. The planet isn't big
enough."

"I got away from your trial," he reminded her. "And I got away and lived
when you left me without a chance on the ground of the spaceport."

She laughed harshly. "_You_ got away then? You fool, who do you think
gave you the extra battery so you could live long enough to be helped at
the spaceport? Who hired a fool like Matthews so you wouldn't get the
death sentence you deserved? Who let you get away as an herb doctor for
months before you set yourself up as God and a traitor to mankind
again?"

It shook him, as it was probably intended to do. How had she known about
the extra battery? He'd always assumed that Ben had returned to give it
to him. But in that case, Chris couldn't know of it. Then he hardened
himself again. In the old days, she'd always had one trump card he
couldn't beat and hadn't expected. But too much was involved for games
now.

"Any police around, Molly?" he asked.

Molly came back a minute later to report that everything looked clear
and to show him where the equipment had been set up in Chris' office. It
was all there, including the electron mike--a beautiful little portable
model. There was even a small incubator with its own heat source into
which he immediately transferred the little bottles he'd been keeping
warm against his skin. Most of the equipment had never been unpacked,
which made loading it onto his tractor ridiculously easy.

"Better come with me now, Molly," he suggested at last. Then he turned
to Chris, who was watching him with almost no expression. "You can
wriggle your chair to the phone in half an hour, I guess. Knock the
phone off and yell for help. It's better than you deserve, unless you
really did