"You will be able to find the speedster?"
"Certainly. He was to find it. Whatever he could have done, I, working through the cells of his brain, can likewise do."
"Can you handle him alone, Kinnison?" Worsel asked presently. "Can you hold out until you reach the boat?"
"Yes, to both. I can handle him—we softened him down plenty. I will last—I'll make myself last, long enough."
"I go, then, lest they be observing with spy rays."
To the black flier the completely subservient Delgonian then bore his physically disabled master, and carefully he put him aboard. Worsel helped openly there, for he had put out screens against all forms of intrusion. The vessel took off and the Overlord wriggled blithely back toward the dome. He was full of the consciousness of a good job, well done. He even felt the sensation of repletion concomitant with having consumed much vital force!
"I hate to let him go!" Worsel's thought was a growl of baffled fury. "It gripes me to the tail to let him think that he has done everything he set out to do; that he will never even know how he got those bruises and contusions. I wanted—I still want—to tear him apart for what he has done to you, my friend."
"Thanks, old snake." Kinnison's thought came faintly. "Just temporary. He's living on borrowed time. He'll get his. You've got everything under control, haven't you?"
"On the green. Why?"
"Because I can't hold this nerve block any longer.... It hurts.... I'm sick.... I think I'm going to—"