The Infinity Link by Jeffrey A. Carver Page B

they're angry when it's over, then that'll just be too bad. Jonders . . . he's not too angry with Jonders, but as far as he's concerned, Fogelbee's a pompous ass, and they should have trusted him to begin with, instead of playing such pissant games of secrecy.
    He's nodding to something Mozy's saying, and realizes with a start that she's getting up to leave. "When will you know for sure?" she repeats.
    He's caught between his own thoughts and her question, and he struggles to speak. "I'll . . . let you know," he manages. "When I've checked it out . . . yes. There might not be much warning. We'll have to do it when the opportunity's there."
    She's smiling happily now, touching him, needing him. He's almost frantic with a peculiar kind of joy. Too quickly for him to react, she stretches and kisses him on the cheek. The next thing he knows, she's out the door and gone. The living room crowds around him with shadowy ghosts as he turns. The lights flicker and spiral in his eyes, and his foot catches on a chair, and he stumbles, sprawling to the floor. He lies there, panting and cursing; his head is spinning, and if he just waits a moment, it will pass.
    At last he gets to his feet. He switches off the lamp and sits on the couch and finishes his beer in the gloom—brooding and planning.
    Mozy, Mozy, you don't know the dangers! I wanted to tell you, it's not what you think—but I'll try for you, I promised I would. How could I refuse you, even this? I'll help you any way I can, Mozy . . .
     . . .but I wonder . . . should I have told you?

Chapter 7
    The invasive fingers of the scanning program slipped out of her mind the way they had come in. There was a sense of release, and then the cilialike tendrils were gone from the inside of her skull. Her memories once again were her own.
    She sat in darkness, gathering her wits. The scanning helmet was a claustrophobic enclosure, far more cumbersome than the usual linkup helmet. Her feelings from before the session came seeping back into her mind. Lusela had told her today: the sessions with Kadin were over. No final visit, no last good-bye. All they needed now were a few brainscans for purposes of analysis. Too stunned to protest, Mozy had suppressed her anger and gone meekly into the subject booth. But something inside her was darkening to ash, even as the helmet was lowered over her head. Then the scan had begun, and the violating fingers had entered her mind, sorting patterns and memories, tumbling walls like stacks of cards.
    Now it was over. All over.
    The booth lights rose slowly, and she became aware of a medical tech disconnecting her. Lusela was there, too, murmuring to the tech. The helmet suddenly lifted from her head, giving her a breath of air. Relief. "Why don't you just sit quietly for a few minutes," Lusela said. "How do you feel?"
    Mozy stared at her, dazed.
    The med-tech was peering into her eyes now, and checking the life-signs monitors. After a moment, she went away, and Lusela was saying, "We'll give you some privacy to gather your thoughts. If you need us, we'll be right outside." Lusela indicated the call button. "Just buzz." She followed the tech out and closed the door.
    Mozy let her breath out with a silent cry. She laid her head on the headrest and stared at the ceiling. She needed time to think, to get her head straight. Mindscans . . . the end of Kadin . . . what was happening to her? Trying to understand it all was like picking up pieces of a shattered ceramic vessel and wondering how they had once fit together. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts run at will. The silence was soothing.
    A minute passed. The door opened, and closed. She ignored it, keeping her eyes closed, hoping not to be disturbed. She was startled by a whisper at her ear. "Mozy?"
    She blinked her eyes open in astonishment. "Hoshi?" she croaked.
    "Today's the day," Hoshi murmured. He bent over her, his copper medallion swinging, his strangely focused eyes seeking