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Deeter Zor smiled grimly. "Shine all the lights you like on me, I'll never confess." They'd searched him utterly unthoroughly, so he still had the gems hidden near his armpits. Unfortunately he was tied to a chair at the moment, but he knew what to do. "Is it possible at all to use a facility, or may I urinate right here?"

He could barely make out the silhouettes conversing together. Finally, one of them said, "Wait."

"I wasn't joking, you know, I really am about to make a puddle here." He tried to put a bit of urgency in his words. Lying had been a far easier habit to pick up than he'd imagined, when there was little enough chance of anyone finding out.

"Can't we just put him in a cell?" said one of the silhouettes.

"This fugitive is described very accurately in the Galactic Police's sheet. He is not to have his hands free."

Note to self: retie the gems to my wrists after I get out of this. "Oh come on gents, have a heart. Just give me a leather sack so I can relieve myself. I don't care if you watch."

One of the silhouettes muttered something that his translator didn't pick up - it had a problem with slang and profanities - but the first one said "All right, but if you try anything, we have six men here who can karakagab majajoon. Clear?"

"Crystal, gentlemen." They began untying him. One brought a chamber pot and stood next to him. He was huge and scowling. Deeter Zor obeyed the call of nature, using the right hand as intended and the other to scratch his armpit. After shaking himself, he replaced his prick and showed the man his right hand. "See, nothing to worry about." He then scratched his left armpit and sat down again, hands in fists, crossed behind the back of the chair.

"Why don't we just let him stew till They arrive?"

"Sounds fine to me," and they departed, still grumbling.

Deeter Zor tried not to laugh. In a low voice he said, "Command: record. Day ninety-two. About to escape from Bellus, a steel-age civilization with almost no magic, but enough to recognize Their authority. Literate, that is. I've only been here half a day and I've already been picked up. Incredible. Hadn't even had time to piss till just now. Anyway, without the map I'm not sure where I'll head. Hm. I'd prefer to stay in sector D for now, but a much more sparsely inhabited world will do. Maybe even an unseeded one. But liveable. Thank Ariel the gems work behind my back just as well."

With that, he first pinched his thumb to his pinky to end the recording, then spread his fists apart as far as he possibly could. The gems had to be a certain distance apart in his hands to work, and soon enough, he heard the noise. It was unfortunately true that the portal would appear behind him, but at least it appeared. He pushed his feet against the ground and the chair tipped him back, but far enough. It did not follow. Nothing but his clothes did, as far as he could tell. And his pack, when he wore it.

Pack. He walked back through the portal and it closed, but after grabbing his bag from the table, he resumed the ritual. This time he saw the portal, and it made him shiver. It looked like nothing else, and it looked like nothing. He stepped into the dark, walked a few steps, and the white portal to a world appeared. Prairie grass. He lay down on it and tried to clear his head. He always felt a little nauseated after Traveling.

He cleared his throat. "Command: record. Day ninety-two. What the hell is going on? How do They keep finding me? I've made it to an empty planet. But that could be merely what they want me to think. Ah, paranoia, paranoia. I will stay here as long as I can. I have two days of food, so I will try to find more. I have a poison checker, I hadn't had to use it in ages." Since leaving Shringston. He didn't say that. He had been assured that the diary implanted in his spine would only be found after his death, but who knew what tricks They had? "So, the people who'd just caught me had a physical description of me. I suppose next brush with civilization, I'll have to dye my hair."

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