“You can pull out the gun,” Hengly said with a grim smile, “but don’t try to shoot it.” He had his own gun now, aimed directly at Neel. Leaning forward he watched as Neel carefully pulled out the tiny weapon and threw it across the room. “That’s better,” he said, placing his own gun on the desk where he could reach it easily. “Now we can talk.”

“There’s nothing I have to say to you, Hengly.” Neel leaned back in the chair, exhausted. “You’re a traitor!”

Hengly hammered the desk in sudden anger and shouted. “Don’t talk to me of treachery, my little man of peace. Creeping up with a gun to kill a friend. Is that peaceful? Where are the ethos of humanism now, you were very fond of them when we were in the University!”

Neel didn’t want to listen to the words, he thought instead of how right Costa had been. He was dead, but this was still his operation. It was going according to plan.

“Walk right in there,” Costa had said. “He won’t kill you. Not at first, at least. He’s the loneliest man in the universe, because he has given up one world for another that he hasn’t gained yet. There will be no one he can confide in. He’ll know you have come to kill him, but he won’t be able to resist talking to you first. Particularly if you make it easy for him to defeat you. Not too easy⁠—he must feel he is outthinking you. You’ll have a gun for him to take away, but that will be too obvious. This small gun will be hidden as well, and when he finds that, too, he should be taken off his guard. Not much, but enough for you to kill him. Don’t wait. Do it at the first opportunity.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Neel could see the radiophone clipped to the front of his jacket. It was slightly tarnished, looking like any one of ten thousand in daily use⁠—almost a duplicate of the one Hengly wore. A universal symbol of the age, like the keys and small change in his pockets.