"I know that. I have in mind a temporary truce, just until we can get out of here. After that, the fake Channing better get off Earth and get off fast. If they find him he'll be eliminated. But it seems to me he ought to do the real Channing a favor."
"What do you want me to do?"
"No, friend, it's what I want to do for you."
"I'm the copy!"
"Never mind," said Channing. "It seems to me the fake Channing, whichever one of us is the fake Channing, ought to visit a few people with the real Channing and straighten things out for him. Agreed?"
"Let me think about it," said the copy. It was inevitable that he would come to approximately the same conclusion. They had identical minds. But, Channing thought vaguely, if he wanted to use the copy to help him out of a couple of man-sized jams, he had to assume the copy would be quite willing and eager to use him in the same way. He'd have to watch himself.
"All right," the copy finally said. "We'd better get out of here, Channing."
Sarchix met them at the door. A Channing on either side of him, they grasped the diminutive arms firmly and carried him back into his own office. The ponderous tail lashed out to left and right. Channings fell like tenpins. But before Sarchix could reach his microphone for help, the two Channings were up again and at him, avoiding the wild-swinging tail, circling him warily for position and never once getting in each other's way.
