a Betan," Blalok said. "I don't have your insane
desire for privacy."

"Go find that thought screen if you still have it!" Alexander said. "I
don't want any more of this. You're making me ill!"

Kennon grinned thinly as he rose to his feet. It was a good thing he
remembered Alexander was squeamish and didn't like anatomy. The door
was to his left, an iris door with eight leaves--terribly old-fashioned.
About ten steps away. Count them--one--two--three--

Alexander sighed as Kennon left the room. "I certainly pushed the panic
button on that young man," he said. "He has a pathological attitude
toward telepathy. Wonder what he has to hide that he wants privacy so
badly? Even for a Betan this reaction was violent."

"Oh, I don't know. He's a pretty emotional sort. Maybe he hates to look
like a fool. He's gotten himself mixed up with one of the Lani. Cute
little thing by the name of Copper," Blalok said.

"Oh--that's it. I thought that was what he was hiding. A picture of
a girl kept popping up." Alexander chuckled. "I suppose that's the
trouble. A man hardly likes to look a fool, particularly to someone
who has warned him. At that, I don't blame him. They are beautiful and
affectionate. And even with their superstitions and tabus they're better
than most humans."

"For pets," Blalok said heavily.

"They're not better at anything," Jordan demurred. "They can't be--man
is the best and always will be."

"The eternal racial chauvinist," Alexander murmured. He turned his
attention to Blalok. "But for awhile, Evald, I'd suggest you keep an
eye on our young man. I still don't like his reaction. It was too
violent--too defensive. I don't feel right about it. Perhaps Betans are
more sensitive than most people but it seems to me that he's trying
to conceal something. There was an undertone of fear--and something
else--beneath his defenses."

"Couldn't you get any more than that?" Blalok asked. "You're pretty good
at this mind-reading business."

"His defenses were remarkably good," Alexander said dryly.

* * *

Well he'd done it now, Kennon thought. He found the thought-screen
circlet sandwiched between two books on comparative neuroanatomy which
he hadn't bothered to unpack. He slipped it on and connected the lead
wires to a portable battery pack. There was a half-forgotten tingling
as the weak field heterodyned his thought waves. Kennon sighed. If
Alexander wasn't suspicious of him now the man was a fool. He'd done