The com-techneer had listened quietly and now he raised his head and nodded.
"I can try. I don't know about this mind block business." He hesitated. "I'm no sensitive. How much can Cummi do with me?"
"He's a five point nine. He can't take you over, if that is what you're afraid of. You're from Luga — or your family was Lugan stock originally, weren't they?"
"My father was Lugan. My mother came from Desart."
"Lugan — Desart — " Kartr looked to Zinga.
"High resistance core," the Zacathan informed him promptly. "Imaginative, but excellent control. Resistance is above eight. No, no Ageratan could take him over. And you do have a mind block, Smitt, whether you've ever tried to use it or not. Just think about some com-machine when you're around a sensitive. Concentrate on some phase of your old job — "
"Like this?" demanded Smitt eagerly.
It was as if he had snapped off some switch. Where Smitt sat there was now a mental blank. Kartr bit off an exclamation and then said:
"Keep that up, Smitt! Zinga — !"
His own power went out toward the com-techneer, and then he felt a second stream of energy unite with it, driving into that blankness with him like the tip of a blaster beam. So, he had been right! Zinga was a sensitive, too, and to a degree he could not even measure. Together their wills smashed at Smitt, smashed on a barrier which held as staunchly as the hull of a space ship.
There were beads of moisture on Kartr's forehead, gathering under the edge of his helmet to trickle down his cheeks and chin. Then his free hand moved in a gesture of defeat and he relaxed.
"You need not worry about mind invasion, Smitt. Unless you get careless."
The com-techneer was on his feet. "Then we are allied?" He asked that almost shyly, as if he had come there expecting to be turned away.
"We are. Just stir around some and see what you can find out. But don't, if possible, get sent off from here where we can't reach you. We may have to move fast if trouble comes."
"I won't let you down." Smitt crossed to the door. Now he hesitated and turned. And before he went out his hand moved in a gesture which included all of them — human and Bemmy alike — the full salute of a Patrolman to his equals.
"Now — just in case — " Fylh flitted across the room and stamped on the door-controlling block, locking the portal with the heat of his claws.
"Yes," Zinga agreed, "one does feel more relaxed when it isn't necessary to think about guarding one's back. Shall we settle in?"
Kartr slipped his left wrist out of the sling and rubbed it thoughtfully.
"They have a medico here. I wonder — "
Rolth moved up beside him. "Are you thinking of venturing into the slith's cave alone?"
"A well-equipped ship's hospital should include a renewer ray. And I'd like to go into battle — if I have to — with two good hands instead of one. Also it gives me a legitimate excuse for wandering around below. I can ask questions — "
"All right. But you don't go alone," Rolth agreed. "Somehow I don't fancy any of us prancing about alone in this building. Two's pretty good company — and two blasters can clear a wider path than one."
"None of that! I'm a sufferer in search of a medico, remember?" But Kartr's lips stretched in what had come during these past days to be an unfamiliar curve, a genuine smile. "Have you two enough to amuse yourselves with while we are gone?"
"Don't worry about us." Zinga grinned and his inch fangs shone in the greenish light to ghoulish advantage. "We shall set up housekeeping. We do, I take it, lock the door behind you?"
"Yes. And you open it only when you pick up our mind patterns."
Zinga didn't even blink at that. Of course, he had revealed the extent of his power when he had aided Kartr in attacking Smitt's block. But, with his usual disregard for human emotions, he apparently saw no reason for discussing his long concealment now.
Fylh opened the door and they started down the stairs. It was quiet below and they were almost into the corridor before Kartr's perception warned him of a stranger's approach. It was a young man, in the rather ornate uniform of a passenger ship's officer, who strode confidently toward them.
"You are Sergeant Kartr?"
"I am."
"The Vice-Sector Lord wishes to see you."
Kartr stopped and gazed with mild interest at the newcomer. Perhaps the sergeant was even a year or so younger than this assured Flight Spacer — allowing for planetary and racial difference — but suddenly he felt almost grandfatherly.
"I have not received any orders from my superior officer delegating me to be attached to the service of the Central Control Civil Section."
And for a wonder that pomposity actually disconcerted the other. Maybe the old magic of the Patrol still held a small power. Kartr and Rolth started on, passed the officer, and were several feet down the hall before he caught up with them again.
"See here!" He tried to project the sting of an order into his voice, but it faded when both rangers wheeled to give him grave and courteous attention. "The Lord Cummi — he is in charge here, you know," he ended lamely.
"Section six, paragraph eight, general orders," answered Rolth. " `The Patrol is the guardian of the law under Central Control. It may assist the civil branch if and when requested to do so. But at no time and in no manner does it surrender its authority to any planetary or sectional advisor or ruler, except under the direct seal and order of Central Control.' "
The youngster stood with his mouth slightly open. The last thing he had expected, thought Kartr with a relieving chuckle of real humor which he was able to suppress, was to have general orders spouted in his face. Zinga would have loved to hear this. Kartr hoped that the Zacathan had followed them mentally and was enjoying it.
"But — " whatever protest the Spacer was about to make died away as the rangers' expressions of polite but impatient attention did not alter.
"Now," Kartr said when the officer added nothing to that forlorn "but," "perhaps you can direct me to your medico's quarters. I require attention for this." He indicated his wrist.
The officer was eager to oblige. "Down two flights of stairs at the end of this corridor and turn to your right. Medico Tre has the first four rooms in that hall."
He remained where he was, still staring after them as they moved on.
"What do you suppose he is going to report to the great Cummi?" Rolth wondered as they followed directions. "I don't think that I would care to be in his boots. "Do you believe — "
"That I was wise to stand up and resist at this point? Maybe I wasn't, but they must have discovered from Jaksan that I am hostile. And" — Kartr's face was entirely expressionless — "that was something I had to do. He set the Can-hound on us!"
And Rolth, having seen that fighting face before and knowing what its mask covered, decided to say no more.
They met no one else on those two flights of stairs. Apparently this portion of Cummi's stronghold was more or less deserted. And they were approaching the first door along the medico's corridor when a thin whisper of sound caught their attention. Here the tall windows were set in deep recesses and it was from one of those that the summons came.