The Aab stopped rising.
Monk licked the perspiration from his upper lip in a futile effort to quench his thirst. But there was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all—
His head jerked back.
The Aab was rising again. It was defying his last command.
Monk bit his lip. Of course. His mind was tiring just as muscles tire. He couldn't hope to hold the Aab here all afternoon. The Aab, somehow, must be disposed of. But how?
Out of the heat, out of his fear and desperation, came a plan. It was simple and direct. It gave Monk his only chance for survival. He quickly pressed it into the depths of his unconscious mind so that the Aab would not detect it.
"Come here," he said. "I won't hurt you."
You will hurt me. You will dispose of me.
Monk cursed. Aabs weren't intelligent, but they possessed some reasoning power.
"No, I won't hurt you," he telepathed. "Come here. Let me see what you look like."