"He hates Carroll. Terribly."
Majors grunted. "We'll take care of him. Maybe he's the real madman in this scramble."
"At any rate," said Pollard, "we all have something tangible to fight, now. Go to him, Rita. You have his confidence, even though he believes you to be one of the 'aliens'."
"Go to him?" she asked with a smile, "I'll not have to. Carroll will come to me."
"You seem certain."
"You may scoff at feminine intuition," she said with a laugh, "but in some cases it works. You see, no matter what Carroll thinks of me, he is aware of the fact that I am a woman. Meanwhile I'll merely borrow that portable teleport and wait."
The room was dark save for a slight streak of yellow moonlight. As the night progressed, the streak of moonlight passed across the room, illuminating the sleeping girl, the dresser, the desk, the teleport, the blank wall.
And in the early morning hours the perfect plane of the teleport flashed briefly to admit James Forrest Carroll. Blinking, he looked around the darkened room until his eyes adapted themselves. Then he made his way to the side of the bed. The motion of the bed as he sat upon the edge awakened the girl, who sat up quietly enough to allay Carroll's fears that she would shriek.
"Rhine," he said softly.