Settling into a chair, Harry picked up the smartpaper magazine Lily had been looking at, glanced at the title page to see what range of content it could provide, and tossed it aside. Evidently no new information had been loaded into it for more than a standard year.

There was a small holostage in one corner of the waiting room, tuned and positioned to avoid distracting the low-ranker receptionist at her work station. A presentation of local news was currently on stage, and Harry began to watch and listen with some attention. It would probably be a good idea to absorb whatever details he could about the ways of human life on Maracanda.

So far, the newscaster, who sounded weary, had been talking almost exclusively about what she called the usual disputes over access to the Portal. The images of various people Harry had never heard of came and went on the little stage, staking out their positions. The first speaker claimed to represent the scientific community, the second one the true Malako religion - never mind about those schismatic heretics who were causing all the trouble - and a third the local civil authority. No two speakers seemed to agree about anything; Harry had no idea if any of them were right.

The times allotted for Portal access by the general public seemed to be severely limited. So were the disputants' times on stage. There wasn't going to be any long discussion, nothing that might allow an outsider to deduce just what they were talking about. On with the news. The amount of high-grade mineral exports had reached a new high in the last standard month. Investigators had still uncovered no clues in the disappearance, a standard month ago, of a certain Dr. Emily Kochi, an astrogeologist. Dr. Kochi had no family on Maracanda, but many friends who by now had just about given up hope. She had been working alone in a remote area, and it was feared that she had been caught in a subduction zone.

On the brighter side, it seemed a new school was about to open in Port City.

Harry's attention wandered, and he checked the local time. Lily seemed to be spending a good amount of time talking to the Space Force - or maybe she would just be listening as Commandant Rovaki practiced his interrogation skills. Harry wasn't much worried about what Lily might be telling him. If she was the innocent person she claimed to be, she wasn't going to say anything that would delay her search for Alan, and if she really was secretly the queen of smugglers, she certainly wasn't about to sign up for any unnecessary appearance in a courtroom.

No, the two amateur hijackers must have been lying about her, just trying to save their miserable lives. Harry couldn't really find her credible as a master criminal.

At that point, experience kicked in, reminding him of a number of things in the past that he had not been able to believe, not until they ignored his predictions and happened anyway.

What he did have no trouble at all believing, and found a serious annoyance, was Rovaki's announcement that his ship was being sealed, that the Witch was condemned to sit idle on the ramp of this out-of-the-way port for some unknown time, just waiting for his lordship of the local Space Force to get around to inspecting it.

Harry was pondering, gloomily and unproductively, the various ramifications of this problem when a new face appeared in the entrance to the waiting room. It was a dark, masculine countenance, showing a lot of ancient Asian ancestry, and set well above the floor, atop a kind of uniform that was probably not often seen inside this Space Force office. Each of this man's shoulders bore the single small silver star of a Templar brigadier general.

The general had come to a halt, hands gripping the sides of the narrow doorway. His dark epicanthic eyes were staring at Harry - not exactly with recognition, but some kind of anticipation. The scrutiny was intense, but did not seem unfriendly.

It took another moment for the attendant clerk to catch sight of the visitor. She looked up, startled, from her work. "General Pike? The commandant is currently engaged. If you'd like to see - "

A large hand waved dismissively. A harsh voice rasped: "That's all right, didn't much want to see him anyway. Not today. You'd be Harry Silver?"

Harry got slowly to his feet. "That's right, general."

"Word has got around that you just made a berserker kill."

"Word gets around quickly then. I'm glad someone's taking notice. Let's just say I watched a berserker die."

The general moved a step into the room, to stand with arms folded. There was excitement in his voice. "But I understand that you engaged the bloody thing in combat?"

Harry nodded. "Except I'm not sure if 'engaged' is the right word. We exchanged fire, but I was doing my damnedest to get away."

"By thunder!" The newcomer's eyes were glowing. He stepped closer, put out a hand, caught Harry's in a crushing grip. "Need I say that I'm keen to see any record of this exploit that you might have managed to retain - and to offer my heartfelt congratulations to the winner!

"My name's Robledo Pike." Breaking off the handshake, he stepped back to make a sweeping bow, flourishing a broad-brimmed hat, one of the optional adjuncts of the Templar dress uniform.

"Harry Silver."

"So I've been told." Then the general jerked his chin toward the inner office. "Still waiting to see the man, are you?"

"Actually, I've seen him. I'm just waiting for a friend who's in there now."

"Ah. Do you suppose you could wait in my office as well as here? My chairs are softer."

"Why not? I can show you that recording if you like." Harry was prepared with another copy to hand out.

"Excellent!"

"I'll be glad to go over it with you, in case you have any questions."

"Could you possibly spare the time right now? My office is just upstairs. Free-zone space is at a premium here, you see, and everyone shares a building. Beth, my dear?" This last was addressed to the clerk. "Suppose you could point Mr. Silver's friend in the right direction to catch up with us, when His Nibs is finished with her?"

"Certainly, general."

But no sooner had the clerk said that than Lily emerged from the inner office, not exactly storming, but moving along energetically.

She was talking as she walked. Over her shoulder she told the commandant, who was still out of sight somewhere behind her: "I'm going wherever I want to go, and doing anything I want to do! As long as I'm not under arrest, I'm going to Portal City to meet my husband. If you want me for anything, you can find me there."

Then an afterthought, lifting her chin at Harry: "And if Mr. Silver wants to come with me, and I hope he does, I'm going to see a lot of him!"

Commandant Rovaki's voice could be heard, calling after Lily: "And when you see Harry Silver, tell him I'm putting a seal on his ship, until this little matter is straightened out. He'd better not go anywhere either."

Lily said to Harry: "So, it seems that, if I am really a decent young lady, I will be well advised not to associate with you."

Harry performed brief introductions, and the general made another sweeping bow. A couple of minutes later, they were all three in the general's office. Pike's office was somewhat bigger and considerably more disorderly than Rovaki's. The walls were hung with portrait after portrait, mostly of veteran men and women in Templar uniforms. There was a variety of mementos, including an old recruiting poster:

Just underneath the legend a lifelike graphic, appearing three-dimensional when viewed from the proper angle, portrayed an attractive child cringing away from a grasping metallic menace. The berserker in the image was far more barbed and angled and poisonous-looking than the one in Harry's brief recording.

But it was, of course, the one in the recording that the general was watching, for about the tenth time.

Robledo Pike, in contrast to his Space Force counterpart, proved eager to see the berserker blasted over and over, in shower after shower of multicolored sparks. Pike was nodding judiciously, as the spectacular climax appeared again. "Must have hit a clot of dust head on - a veritable lump of the good hard stuff - only other time I can recall seeing one disintegrate like that was a direct hit from a c-plus cannon."

Harry nodded in agreement. "It sure had a decisive effect."

"Let's see that just once morehah! Beautiful!"

Leaning forward in his chair and fixing Lily with a curious eye, Pike spoke in what he obviously hoped was an encouraging tone. He would be glad to hear any additional details she might be able to provide about the recent skirmish.

She protested that she had been only a bystander, unable to interpret the little symbols on the holostage. "Until the red dot vanished, and I knew that we were going to make it. Thanks to Harry." And she gave him a warm look.

There was a little silence, which Harry broke by saying: "Well, folks, I've got to start trying to do something about my ship. Looks like my next step is to go out and find myself a good lawyer."

The Templar frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Might not be necessary, Silver. Let's talk a little first. It could be that I have a better idea."

"If there are ideas to be offered, I'm listening."

"By thunder!" Pike leaned forward again, pounding a fist softly on the arm of his chair. "I want to do something for you, sir - and you, too, madam. Two brave people who have courageously faced and fought a berserker machine. Successfully!"

"Sheer luck," Harry murmured modestly.

"Ah, but it's results that count - and here you've shown me the recorded evidence. Now, as to your current problem. I could give you the names of one or two good lawyers, but perhaps I can do even better." Pike fixed Harry with a frowning, scheming eye.

"How's that, general?"

"I'm on good terms with the federation prosecutor here on Maracanda. Mind you, I promise nothing, but it might be possible to expedite the unsealing of your ship."

"Sounds good," Harry admitted cautiously. "Maybe, some day, in return I could do some little thing for you."

"Oh, not for me, my lad. Whatever I might ask of you - and of you, young woman - will not be just for me. Say, rather, for all humankind."

The general paused, and went on. "You know as well as I do that there exists in the Galaxy a certain class of men and women - no, I shouldn't dishonor the names of women and men by putting them in that category. Of creatures, say, so-called humans, who find their object of worship just where they should not - creatures you don't like any better than I do." Pike paused dramatically. "I'm speaking, of course, of goodlife."

Harry grunted. Lily looked thoughtful. Goodlife was the berserkers' own name for humans who wanted to help them destroy humanity. Such renegades were rare but by no means nonexistent, and the general was right - Harry had known some of them to make a dark religion out of their alienation.

Pike was going on. "It has come to my attention that in the eastern cities - Minersville, and the settlement usually called Tomb Town - goodlife activity is carried out almost openly. Speeches in the so-called sacred square, before the Portal. I'm damned short on people just now, and I appeal for help to those I know are not unwilling to take a shot at a berserker. Are you with me?"

Lily was shaking her head doubtfully, but certainly had not turned down the general as yet.

Harry said: "I'm out of practice as a secret agent. But if you just want people to keep their eyes and ears open - "

"That's it exactly!"

Lily murmured something in agreement; and a moment later, Pike was offering to provide his agent, or agents, money for necessities.

Harry didn't want to be in the man's debt any more than he could help. "I'll bill you later, if I think I have it coming."

Lily cleared her throat. "I appreciate your gentlemanly attitude, General Pike. I'll be pleased to discover goodlife for you if I can. But you must realize that my reason for coming to Maracanda is to find my husband. Everyone agrees that the east side is the place to look, and that will remain my priority."

"Yes, you've come a long way to locate him, haven't you? A kind of devotion that is all too rare in our times, perhaps in any times... Well, I don't doubt you're right, madam. If he's here as a Malako enthusiast, he is undoubtedly over in Tomb Town, or somewhere near it. Gone for a look into God's Eyeball, as some have been known to call that strange thing there."

Harry and Lily were ready to get up and go. But General Pike, having established contact with sympathetic listeners, wanted to talk some more on his own favorite subjects.

"I tell you, Silver, Ms. Gunnlod, goodlife are only part of the problem. The worst part, but not the whole of it, by any means."

The Templar's fundamental argument was that people, the various components of Earth-descended humanity, should not be feuding among themselves, but should unite in fighting the real enemy, berserkers - and his face grew red when he spoke of the fiendish, loathsome, demonic perverts who had sold their souls to become goodlife, in effect worshiping the essence of evil.

Lily broke in, obviously hoping to extract some practical information. "Have you been to the east side, general?" Everyone knew that Templars tended to be religious.

"Not for some time. Duties keep me busy over here. And begging your pardon, ma'am - not knowing exactly how deep your own commitment to the thing may be - but this Malako business is not for me. The great Eyeball, or whatever... no. My own religion is very simple - I worship Life!"

"And speaking of life - " He warned his new agents to watch out for their own.

"How're we supposed to report back to you?"

"There's only one quick way, unfortunately not the most convenient, or the most foolproof. I'll show you. Step this way, if you will."

In a moment he had conducted his two visitors into a small adjoining room. There they found a crippled man in Templar uniform seated at a plain, small table. Thin cables emerged from holes in the table's top, then connected to a small, odd instrument of brassy metal, mounted in its center. From time to time, something in the little machine would vibrate fiercely, while the man watched steadily. More elaborate equipment, connected to the brass, produced a kind of printout. The lines on the continuously emerging graph zigged and zagged in time with the chattering of the simple machine.

"Our central telegraph terminal." Pike's voice held a note of pride. "Anything new, Kurchatov?"

"No sir." The scarred Templar looked up and smiled vaguely at his visitors, but in the next moment was concentrating again on the machinery.

Pike was explaining. "Our sole means of communication with the other cities on this world. All that comes in, you see, are simple dots and dashes, through a fiberoptic line. It's the only way we know of to get a message quickly through the breakdown zone."

Harry felt somewhere between dazed and lost. "This is the best anyone on Maracanda can do in the way of communication?"

"Between here and the far east, Minersville and Tomb Town, I'm afraid it is. Radio's been shown to be hopeless, away from the free zones. Biggest free zone is right here, of course, encompassing the spaceport and Port City.

"People keep trying to find a better way, of course. We need more resources for research. But our Superior General probably sees no reason to have much of a Templar presence on Maracanda - except to keep the Space Force from having a monopoly. There's nothing much here that needs to be defended against berserkers, and no berserkers to attack."

Lily asked about the fastest way to reach the vicinity of the Tomb.

Pike told his visitors: "There's basically only one mode of travel on this world. That's overland, by caravan, or pedicar, or on foot, if it comes to that."

"Someone was trying to explain that to me, but - "

Harry cut in: "Nothing goes back and forth by air, or spacecraft, between here and there, west and east? Nothing at all?"

Pike was shaking his head. "There just isn't any air transport on this world. Here, let me show you on the map."

The Templar's map looked like a good copy, though considerably smaller, of the big one on the ground floor of the administration center. Using a laser pointer, the general called their attention to the spot where, he said, Lily wanted to look for Alan.

Harry commented that the map showed no other cities or towns anywhere.

"That's because virtually no others exist."

"Here is the famous Portal, also known as the Tomb of Timur, the human founder of the worship of Malako. A great many people are not convinced that anyone is actually buried there."

A moment later, Pike had summoned up the caravan route, a long thin line springing into visibility, winding across the map from one edge to the other. He also pointed out the settlement of Minersville.

"About half the population on the other side of Maracanda is centered in the vicinity of the Tomb - sometimes called the Portal, and sometimes, by the especially irreverent, the Eyeball, or Eyeball of God. The other half is centered in Minersville, just a few kilometers away, on the land office, which is very near the Tomb. Also the richest land, in terms of mineral wealth, is in the same vicinity. The only feasible way to reach any of these places is by going overland. In practice, for most folk, including you, that means joining a caravan."

General Pike was just beginning an explanation of something he called the caravans, which sounded to Harry like some truly demented system of ground transportation. Harry, still not getting it, cut in. "Any reason, legal or physical, why I couldn't just take my ship over there and land it? Assuming, that is, that the Space Force doesn't already have her sealed? And by the way, is there anything you can do about that?"

"If the commandant said he'd seal your ship, it's probably done by now. I said I'd try to be of some help there, and I will. But I may not be able to do much. In practice, the Space Force can seal a ship for thirty standard days, or until the owner goes to court and gets an injunction of relief."

The general sighed. "To return to your main point: there's no legal prohibition against trying to land a spacecraft or aircraft on the other side of the continent. Almost everyone asks, and we might post a sign or two. But again there are the breakdown zones, you see, so in practice the thing's impossible."

"I still don't understand this business of breakdown zones."

"Join the club. I can tell you what everyone knows: They are regions, domains, on this world in which modern technology simply does not work - for reasons that are still being investigated. They are also something you must understand before you try to go anywhere or do anything on Maracanda. Across much of the surface, the 'sky' is simply too low, the breakdown zones too nearly continuous, to allow anything like practical air travel."

"All right, then I suppose the caravans are some kind of system of groundcars?"

"More like overland trains, necessarily very low tech. You'll see. They're efficient, most of them reasonably comfortable, if your standards of comfort aren't too high. I've made the trip. But your journey will take several days. There is simply no faster way."

As the couple walked out of the administration building, under the deceptive natural canopy, afflicted with a perpetual mild overcast, that served on Maracanda for a sky, Harry said: "I'm beginning to think you may have a tough time finding your man, kid. It looks like just getting near him will be a chore."

"It hasn't been exactly easy up till now. Are you still coming with me, Harry?"

"Said I would, didn't I?"

"Commandant Rovaki will be upset if you leave town."

"That's another reason."

She shook her head. "Harry, it would seem that you'd be awfully easy to manipulate, once someone understood that you could be counted on to do the opposite of whatever you were told."

"Don't count on it, lady." But he had to smile.

After a few more steps, Lily said: "Harry, you haven't asked me what Rovaki questioned me about."

"That's easy, he wanted to talk about me." Harry looked around him. "Nobody's come to arrest me, so I guess I'm not accused of any crimes."

"You're right, of course. He asked if I'd observed any suspicious behavior on your part, and I told him that I hadn't." She smiled faintly. "He seemed to be leaving it up to me to define 'suspicious behavior.' I was the only passenger aboard your ship when it left Hong's World, and I had no idea what cargo you might be carrying. When he asked why you stopped in the This-world system, I told him I had no idea about that either - all that technical stuff was just beyond me."

"And he believed you?"

"As far as I could tell. And I kept pestering him for suggestions as to how I might locate Alan. A total waste of time, of course, except I think it kept him a little off balance."

Harry smiled. "So, now you're ready to get down to serious business. Really start the search for Alan."

The two of them were walking toward what appeared to be the center of Port City, whose streets began right at the spaceport's edge.

They had just got in among the peculiar buildings, and Harry was offering to buy lunch - though the clocks he had seen since landing showed the local time as early morning. Before Lily could react to the suggestion, a loud voice close behind them bellowed a strange, wordless cry.

In the next moment, a huge man in flamboyant civilian dress seemed to materialize out of nowhere to confront them. In a moment he had engulfed Harry in a boisterous greeting, pounding the smaller man on the back.

Harry stumbled, staggered, used what means he could, short of actual violence, to fend off the assault. He was muttering dark words under his breath.

The newcomer babbled, sounding breathless with delight. His clothes made the uniform of General Pike look drab by comparison. His voice went up and down the scale, as if he were trying to be all the characters in a play. "Dear Harry - what a delight to stumble across you here. Haven't seen you since - when was it?"

Harry couldn't have named the date if he had tried, and he wasn't going to try. He was willing to let their last meeting be forgotten. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had been making some effort to forget.

The other persisted. "Come on, I'm going to buy you a drink - and your lovely companion, too, of course. Can't you offer an introduction?"

Lily stared up at a mountainous body and a round face, cheeks partly bearded, somewhat pomaded, glowing with what might have been good humor, on either side of a well-tended and ornate mustache. And a lecherous, leering welcome to Harry's companion.

"Ms. Lily Gunnlod, this is Kul Bulaboldo - unless, of course, you're calling yourself by some other - "

"Not a bit of it, old chap, not a bit! I live here proudly under me own name."

Lily was looking from one of them to the other. Somehow she did not seem totally surprised. "An old friend of yours, Mr. Silver?"

"We've known each other a long time." It was a reluctant admission.

Bulaboldo's excitement had simmered down to the point where he could be coherent. "What brings you to this fair world, Harry, me lad?"

"It's a long story." Dryly, Harry asked: "I suppose you're here on a religious pilgrimage?"

"Oh, that's exactly it, dear heart! Very perceptive of you! Worshiping money as I do, I come to Maracanda to build a shrine to my god - or should I say to dig one out? Have you not heard of the treasures in rare earths available across the desert?" Kul gestured extravagantly.

"People keep talking about mining, prospecting, but - "

Bulaboldo, as usual, was not listening. "If I speak with attention to strict verisimilitude, I must admit that I have come to Maracanda to try to make a killing in rare earths. I may come a little late to the game for real success, but one has to make the effort, what?"

And with a nudge in the ribs: "What's happened to that little lady... You know the one I mean?"

"I might. Probably a lot of things have happened to her. And still are."

Presently Lily excused herself to go in search of a ladies' room. The Falstaffian one waited till she was out of sight and hearing before opening new subjects of conversation. Soon he was announcing, with a wink and a nudge, that he was more than a little interested in a story he had heard regarding a certain c-plus cannon.

"You and every bloody crook in the Galaxy, it seems," sighed Harry.

"Indeed, dear lad. The story I have gathered, from an impeccable source, alleges that one Harry Silver had somehow recently got away from the Space Force base at Hyperborea with such a weapon. Needless to say, we - in general, the community of those who understand such things - are all filled with admiration for the man who could accomplish such a feat."

Harry grunted.

"I suppose you've sold it already?" Bulaboldo suggested a couple of names as likely purchasers. Lily, returning, with mission accomplished, was close enough to overhear the names, but seemed to find them meaningless, to judge by her blank look. They were not meaningless to Harry, who recognized good examples of the dregs of Galactic society.

"Oh, go ahead," he assured Kul. "Discuss the subject. The lady knows."

"Ah, I see. Excellent. Get a good price?"

The man seemed to be able to hear about some things before they had actually happened. Harry said only: "If I had, would I be likely to talk about it?"

"Only to your best and oldest friend, dear lad." Bulaboldo moved as if to throw an enormous arm round Harry's shoulders, but caught himself in time to abort the gesture halfway through.

"If I did talk about it, you wouldn't like what you heard."

"My ears are calloused. Of course, I must assume that you have got rid of the thing somehow. It would be crazy to expect to go around peacefully trading, and submitting to Space Force seals and searches, with your ship's bow afflicted with a thing like that, sticking out like a sore nose." Bulaboldo mused, "Or something else... The protrusion must be how long? - several meters, anyway."

Harry offered no comment. Actually, the cannon he had concealed was a new model, hardly known to anyone as yet, and much less bulky than the old. Most people trying to imagine a cannon hidden on his ship would mistakenly discount the idea at once.

It was not that he had been conspiring or plotting to keep the damned thing. Selling it to pirates and terrorists was not an acceptable resolution of the problem either. It had crossed Harry's mind to dump the weapon somewhere, just to get rid of it, but that was a lot easier to say than to accomplish.

"And what business are you in, Mr. Bulaboldo?" Lily seemed to be asking it in all innocence.

"He's a crook," Harry explained succinctly. "The details vary from time to time."

Bulaboldo immediately protested, doing a bad actor's impression of injured innocence, that he was not wanted for any crime at the moment. "At least not in this jurisdiction, old top."

Harry muttered that he had heard of his acquaintance that he was not above doing a little slave trading now and then.

Lily gave every impression of being outraged. "Surely that cannot be legal anywhere!"

Bulaboldo considered the point, frowning, gazing into the distance. The question seemed to put him on his mettle, a challenge not to his morals but to the depth of his knowledge of legal codes across the settled Galaxy.

"No, I don't believe it is." He shook his head. "Which, of course, poses difficulties, as one might expect. As a general rule, owning slaves really makes no economic sense. Ah, but in certain quarters, they are unsurpassed as a status symbol."

That answer silenced Lily for a time.

A good acquaintance, thought Harry, with every crime in the book... except one, probably. One crime that Bulaboldo would never commit was that of being goodlife. The bulky one enjoyed life too much to ever join that grim fraternity. But he would not be above dealing with the goodlife, or even with their metal masters, the berserkers themselves, if he thought he could make a reasonable profit.

Bulaboldo was making polite inquiries of his own. "And you, my lady, how are you enjoying your visit to our peculiar world?"

"So far it's not been dull." Lily appeared to reflect. "I must say that hardly an hour of my trip has been dull, especially since meeting Mr. Silver."

"Only to be expected! One must anticipate a certain piquancy in one's daily affairs when one travels with our dear Harry."

When Bulaboldo heard about Lily's missing husband, and understood that she was not here simply as Harry's companion, he listened to her story attentively, and with an appearance of great sympathy.

Then he said, with an air of offering a revelation: "If this Alan Gunnlod belongs to the sect you speak of, I can tell you exactly where he'll be."

Lily only nodded. "Somewhere near the famous Tomb of Timur, right? I've known that for months. The trouble is in getting there. But I'm going to do it, if it takes me years. I'm going to get him back."