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through the wall to strike the other player." There was no fugue woven into his statement.
    "Interesting." And...?
    "Ah, but there is more, you see. The ball is of a most special construction. It has two main functions. The first involves a contact poison contained within.
    Upon touching human tissue, the poison is released. It is not fatal, or rarely so, but it causes great pain for several days, pain which even the most potent medications cannot blunt. Some kind of replicating virus, I understand. To be struck by the ball is to lose the game in a particularly nasty manner." Playing this game is dangerous, if you fail to move properly.
    "Ah. But what if one of the players simply lets the ball lie on his side of the airwall? Or are there rules against such?" What if I won't play?
    "That's where the second function of the wonderful ball comes in. There is also within the device a timer. The game lasts no more than fifteen minutes, and the timer is set to trigger randomly during that period. Whichever side of the airwall the ball happens to be on when this occurs is showered with the aforementioned contact poison. You can see then that it would pay to try and return the ball to one's opponent as soon as possible, so that the chances of the ball triggering on one's own side would be minimized, don't you agree?"
    To fight is to lose; to do nothing is to lose, as well.
    "Ah. It does sound an interesting game; my Lord Factor. Not my kind of thing, but... interesting." I understand. I will not oppose you.
    "Well. Enough talk of sports. Come, we will have some tea, and perhaps a radiant, to put sparkle into our smiles."
    "You are too kind, my Lord Factor."
    "You must call me Marcus, Madame. We are going to be great friends, and will have no need of ceremony, I am sure."
    They smiled at each other.
    * * *
    Massey leaned against one end of Khadaji's silicon block, regarding the seated man. Khadaji waited for the ex-spy to speak. Finally, he did.
    "Venture hates you even more than we knew. I didn't realize just how precarious your position was, our negotiations with him notwithstanding."
    Khadaji allowed his eyebrows to raise slightly. "I would have bet no small amount that Venture wasn't recording our interview."
    "He wasn't."
    Khadaji gave Massey a short nod of acknowledgment. "Congratulations.
    The Wall should be proud of you." Venture hadn't been recording the conversation, but Massey had managed it, somehow. No one was safe from Confed spying.
    "There was some difficulty," Massey said. "But your own teaching allowed that knowledge is power. Factor Wall is a... strong believer in knowledge."
    "So it would seem."
    Massey pushed away from the block, strolled a couple of steps away, then turned back to face Khadaji. "Well. It isn't important. Our negotiations are nearly complete. We shall be leaving the company of Venture's troopers shortly. In another two days, I would expect. And within a few hours, we'll be back on Earth."
    "You'll excuse me if I don't applaud?"
    Massey ignored the comment. "We could have you totally immobilized, but I think simple induced ataraxia should be enough to keep you from trying to escape. Not that there is anywhere to go on a Bender ship in transit. Besides, it might be our last chance to talk, and I don't want to miss it."
    Khadaji said nothing. Massey was right: once the ship was bent, there was no way to escape. On Earth the security would be so tight it would be impossible to move. And, once the ataractic drug was in his system, Khadaji wouldn't want to escape, even if an opportunity somehow magically presented itself. It certainly narrowed his options.
    * * *
    There was a knock on the door.
    The six matadors dropped or raised into combat positions fast, aided by their bacterial augmentation. Almost as quickly, Dirisha relaxed her aim at the door and straightened. Confederation troopers would have come through the door blasting, if they'd known who was inside. Even local cools would have been more