Gendron walked away, and Carter moved stiffly toward one corner of the room and pretended to busy himself with the tangle of equipment he found there. Whatever this thing the Khethlani was designing was, it was a miracle of engineering. He watched the others in the room working busily, their minds and fingers guided by the promptings of the thing in the pit.
It was only a matter of time before the Khethlani found out that Carter wasn't really under control—if it didn't know already. As soon as the Khethlani was certain, it would communicate that to Gendron and his men, and this time they wouldn't be merciful.
He was immune to the creature's control. That was apparent.
Why? There was only one answer—the titanium plate in his head.
His skull had been crushed like paper in the reactor explosion, but the medics on Rigel IV had painstakingly patched him together again with a cranium fashioned mostly from thin metal. From the outside, it was indistinguishable from the original—but the metal apparently served as a shield against the telepathic commands of the Khethlani. It was a logical explanation.
Then he had little time to waste. Soon, the Khethlani would discover his bluff.
Carter would have to make his move long before then. The thin titanium plate in his skull was all that stood between the Khethlani and its dream of galactic conquest. He had to bank on it.
Gendron was outside, in the clearing. Carter came up to him, "How are things going, Lieutenant?"
"Just fine," Carter said. "I'll have to leave you for a few moments, though."