a while, before we simply put him to death.”
She nodded, eyes absent. “There’s something I can try,” she told them. “I didn’t think of it before.”
“Something you can try?” Wergard said, astonished. His head indicated the screen. “To save him there?”
“Yes. Perhaps.”
Dasinger cleared his throat. “I don’t see . . . what do you have in mind?”
She shook her head. “I can’t explain that. It’s psi. I’ll try to explain as I go along, but I probably won’t be able to explain much. It may work, that’s all. I’ve done something like it before.”
“But you can’t—” Wergard broke off, was silent.
Dasinger said, “You know what you’re doing?”
“Yes, I know.” Telzey looked up at them again. “You mustn’t let anyone in here. There mustn’t be any disturbance or interference, or everything might go wrong. And it will take time. I don’t know how much time.”
Neither of them said anything for some seconds. Then Dasinger nodded slowly.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “you’ll have all the time you need. Nobody will come in here. Nobody will be allowed on the estate before you’ve finished and give the word.”
Telzey nodded. “Then this is what we’ll have to do.”
5
She had done something like this, or something nearly like this, before . . .
Here and there was a psi mind with whom one could exchange the ultimate compliment of using no mental safeguards, none whatever. It was with one of those rare, relaxing companions that she’d done almost what she’d be doing now. The notion had come up in the course of a psi practice session. One was in Orado City, one at the tip of the Southern Mainland at the time. They’d got together at the thought level, and were trying out various things, improving techniques and methods.
“I’ll lend you what I see if you’ll lend me what you see,” one of them had said.
That was easy enough. Each looked suddenly at what
She nodded, eyes absent. “There’s something I can try,” she told them. “I didn’t think of it before.”
“Something you can try?” Wergard said, astonished. His head indicated the screen. “To save him there?”
“Yes. Perhaps.”
Dasinger cleared his throat. “I don’t see . . . what do you have in mind?”
She shook her head. “I can’t explain that. It’s psi. I’ll try to explain as I go along, but I probably won’t be able to explain much. It may work, that’s all. I’ve done something like it before.”
“But you can’t—” Wergard broke off, was silent.
Dasinger said, “You know what you’re doing?”
“Yes, I know.” Telzey looked up at them again. “You mustn’t let anyone in here. There mustn’t be any disturbance or interference, or everything might go wrong. And it will take time. I don’t know how much time.”
Neither of them said anything for some seconds. Then Dasinger nodded slowly.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “you’ll have all the time you need. Nobody will come in here. Nobody will be allowed on the estate before you’ve finished and give the word.”
Telzey nodded. “Then this is what we’ll have to do.”
5
She had done something like this, or something nearly like this, before . . .
Here and there was a psi mind with whom one could exchange the ultimate compliment of using no mental safeguards, none whatever. It was with one of those rare, relaxing companions that she’d done almost what she’d be doing now. The notion had come up in the course of a psi practice session. One was in Orado City, one at the tip of the Southern Mainland at the time. They’d got together at the thought level, and were trying out various things, improving techniques and methods.
“I’ll lend you what I see if you’ll lend me what you see,” one of them had said.
That was easy enough. Each looked suddenly at what