"So?"
"Abnethe would close it on him. She'd have half of our observer, and we'd have the other half."
"But that'd be murder!"
"An unfortunate accident, no more."
"That woman does swing a lot of weight, I admit, but . . ."
"And she'll have our hides if she can make it stick that she's a private citizen and we're trying to sabotage her."
"Messy," Siker agreed. "I hope you made no official sounds in her direction."
"Ah, but I did."
"You what?"
"I put her on official notice."
"McKie, you were told to handle this with dis -"
"Look, we want her to start official action. Check with Legal. She can try a countersuit against me personally, but if she moves against the Bureau, we can ask for a seratori hearing, a personal confrontation. Her legal staff will advise her of that. No, she'll try to get at . . ."
"She may not go into court against the Bureau," Siker said, "but she's certain to set her dogs on us. And it couldn't come at a worse time. Bildoon has just about used up his ego-time. He'll be going into the creche any time now. You know what that means."
"The Bureau Director's chair up for grabs," McKie said. "I've been expecting it."
"Yes, but things'll be in a real uproar around here."
"You're eligible for the seat, Siker."
"So are you, McKie."
"I pass."
"That'll be the day! What I'm worried about is Bildoon. He'll blow when he hears about this ego-frozen PanSpechi. That might be all it takes to . . ."
"He'll handle it," McKie said, putting more confidence into the statement than he felt.
"And you could be wrong. I hope you know I'm not passing."
"We all know you want the job," McKie said.
"I can imagine the gossip."
"Is it worth it?"
"I'll let you know."
"I'm sure you will."
"One thing," Siker said. "How're you going to keep Abnethe off your back?"
"I'm going to become a schoolteacher," McKie said.
"I don't think I want that explained," Siker said. He broke the contact.
McKie found himself still seated in the purple gloom of the Beachball. Sweat bathed his body. The place was an oven. He wondered if his fat was actually being reduced by the heat. Water loss, certainly. The instant he thought of water, he sensed the dryness in his throat.
"You still there?" he rasped.
Silence.
"Fanny Mae?"
"I remain in my home," the Caleban said.
The sensation that he heard the words without hearing grated on McKie, fed on the angeret in his system, stirred a latent rage. Damn superior stupid Caleban! Got us into a real mess!
"Are you willing to cooperate with us in trying to stop these floggings?" McKie asked.
"As my contract permits."
"All right. Then you insist to Abnethe that you want me as your teacher."
"You perform functions of teacher?"
"Have you learned anything from me?" McKie asked.
"All mingled connectives instruct."
"Connectives," McKie muttered. "I must be getting old."
"Explain old," the Caleban said.
"Never mind. We should've discussed your contract first thing. Maybe there's a way to break it. Under what laws was it executed?"
"Explain laws."
"What honorable system of enforcement?" McKie blared.
"Under natural honor of sentient connectives."
"Abnethe doesn't know what honor means."
"I understand honor."