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Flinx had anticipated and prepared for just such a response. “It won't matter. If what I will try to show you fails to eventuate—and there is never any guarantee of success—then you can have me taken away and killed and the galaxy and everything in it goes to hell anyway. So in the long run, it doesn't matter.”

His host gestured third-degree accord. “All fatalisstss are at peace with themsselvess until the knife beginss to cut. Then reality takess over.” He shifted his stance, relaxing his legs. “What do I have to do to participate in thiss ‘experience’ you proposse to sshare? Nothing requiring elaborate or extenssive planning, I hope. I disslike the wassting of time. Not even a ssoftsskin sshould be late for hiss own demisse.”

“That's something I'm always prepared for,” Flinx admitted, “though I admit to being receptive to regular postponements.” Looking around, he searched for something soft. A hard species that had evolved in a tough environment, the AAnn did not go in for plush pillows and thick rugs. Settling on a small depression filled with ornamental colored sand, he walked over and lay down. It was as unyielding as the rest of the floor, but at least it was warmed from beneath. Responding to a gesture from her master, Pip darted away from where she had continued to confront the three young nye and rejoined him, settling down to coil herself contentedly on his chest. He regretted that he was about to unsettle her emotions. Hopefully they would become no less agitated than his own.

Realizing that he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he looked up and over at the increasingly bemused Lord Eiipul IX.

“We are ready to begin, noble nye. Or at least to try. Do you have anything that will help you sleep?”

It was always the same. It was always slightly different. Different and the same. It was always horrifying.

When he regained consciousness he was drenched in sweat. At least, he reflected, by letting himself drift and be drawn mentally outward toward the distant reaches of the universe while he was naked he did not come back to reality encased in cold, wet clothes. Forcing open his eyes, he immediately looked downward in the direction of the slight weight on his chest. Eyes open, Pip was struggling to uncoil her body and unfurl her wings. She did not sweat, but he could sense her distress. As a more primitive empath, she shared his feelings without knowing exactly what he felt. This time she seemed in an unusual rush to regain her strength.

Possibly it had something to do with the weapons Eiipul IXb and IXc were aiming in his direction.

Kiijeem stood behind them. At the moment, his own emotions were badly muddled. While looking askance at his friends, he was eyeing the rapidly reviving Flinx with the usual expectation and uncertainty—but this time there was also an unmistakable trace of the innate aggression he had radiated when he had first encountered the visiting human.

Something was wrong, Flinx realized. Pip was perceiving it as well, which explained why she was fighting harder than usual to recover from the experience. She was in a hurry to get airborne so that she could protect him. Reaching down, he put a hand around her body, pinning her wings against her sides as he exuded feelings of tranquility and reassurance. She relaxed a little, but not completely. It was evident she did not altogether buy the contrived calm he was struggling to impart.

He was not sure that he did, either.

“What have you done to our patriarch?” Eiipul IXc hissed threateningly as she kept the pistol she was holding pointed directly at the center of Flinx's torso.

“Nothing more or less than what I said that I would try to do.” In the absence of specifics he spoke as calmly as he could while facing the weapon. “Which was to attempt to provide incontrovertible proof of my story. I think that I did that. I felt that I did that, though in the state of stasis that is entered it's difficult to be certain of anything.”

“Be certain of thiss,