"I didn't know this happened with humans," Cheo said.
"Oh, it happens," McKie said. "That's her world, isn't it, Cheo?"
"Her world," Cheo agreed, "but you're mistaken about one thing, McKie. I can control Mliss. So it's my world, isn't it? And another thing: I can control you!"
The jumpdoor's vortal tube suddenly grew smaller, darted at McKie.
McKie dodged aside, shouted, "Fanny Mae! You promised!"
"New connectives," the Caleban said.
McKie executed a sprawling dive across the room as the jumpdoor appeared beside him. It nipped into existence and out like a ravening mouth, narrowly missing McKie with each attack. He twisted, leaped - dodged panting through the Beachball's purple gloom, finally rolled under the giant spoon, peered right and left. He shuddered. He hadn't realized a jumpdoor could be moved around that rapidly.
"Fanny Mae," he rasped, "shut the S'eye, close it down or whatever you do. You promised - no attack!"
No response.
McKie glimpsed an edge of the vortal tube hovering just beyond the spoon bowl.
"McKie!"
It was Cheo's voice.
"They'll call you long distance in a minute, McKie," Cheo called. "When they do, I'll have you."
McKie stilled a fit of trembling.
They would call him! Bildoon had probably summoned a Taprisiot already. They'd be worrying about him - the port closed. And he'd be helpless in the grip of the call.
"Fanny Mae!" McKie hissed. "Close that damn S'eye!"
The vortal tube glittered, shifted up and around to come at him from the side. Cursing, McKie rolled into a ball, kicked backward and over onto his knees, leaped to his feet and flung himself across the spoon handle, scrambled back under it.
The searching tube moved away.
There came a low, crackling sound, like thunder to McKie. He glanced right, left, back over his head. There was no sign of the deadly opening.
Abruptly, something snapped sharply above the spoon bowl. A shower of green sparks cascaded around McKie where he lay beneath it. He slid to the side, brought up his raygen. A Palenki arm and whip had been thrust through the jumpdoor's opening. It was raised to deliver another blow against the Caleban.
McKie sprayed the raygen's beam across the arm as the whip moved. Arm and whip grazed the far edge of the spoon, brought another shower of sparks.
The jumpdoor's opening winked out of existence.
McKie crouched, the afterimage of the sparks still dancing on his retinas. Now - now he recalled what he'd been trying to remember since watching Tuluk's experiment with the steel!
"S'eye removed."
Fanny Mae's voice fell on McKie's forehead, seemed to seep inward to his speech centers. Hunter of Devils! She sounded weak!
Slowly McKie lifted himself to his feet. The Palenki arm and whip lay on the floor where they had fallen, but he ignored them.
Shower of sparks!
McKie felt strange emotions washing through him, around him. He felt happily angry, satiated with frustrations, words and phrases tumbling through his mind like pinwheels.
That perverted offspring of an indecent union!
Shower of sparks! Shower of sparks!
He knew he had to hold that thought and his sanity no matter what the surging waves of emotion from Fanny Mae did to him.
Shower of . . . shower . . .
Was Fanny Mae dying?
"Fanny Mae?"
The Caleban remained silent, but the emotional onslaught eased.
McKie knew there was something he had to remember. It concerned Tuluk. He had to tell Tuluk.
Shower of sparks!
He had it then: The pattern that identifies the maker! A shower of sparks.
He felt he'd been running for hours, that his nerves were bruised and tangled. His mind was a bowl of jelly. Thoughts quivered through it. His brain was going to melt and run away like a stream of colored liquid. It would spray out of him - shower on . . .
Shower of . . . of . . . SPARKS!
Louder this time, he called, "Fanny Mae?"
A peculiar silence rippled through the Beachball. It was an emotionless silence, something shut off, removed. It made McKie's skin prickle.
"Answer me, Fanny Mae," he said.
"S'eye absents itself," the Caleban said.
McKie felt shame, a deep and possessive sense of guilt. It flowed over him and through him, filled every cell. Dirty, muddy, sinful, shameful . . .
He shook his head. Why should he feel guilt?
Ahhh. Realization came over him. The emotion came from outside him. It was Fanny Mae!
"Fanny Mae," he said, "I understand you could not prevent that attack. I don't blame you. I understand."
"Surprise connectives," the Caleban said. "You overstand."