Part 6 (2/2)

”It took a little more than TK,” I reminded her. ”TK is just a power, one more ability in life. It doesn't make you G.o.d. Once in a while it gives you a little more vigorish than the other guy has, that's all. And sometimes it's not enough.”

”But you had enough vigorish to catch them,” she pointed out.

”In a way,” I said. ”I told them TK wasn't enough--that it would take precognition. And I don't have PC. I had to bring a PC with me. You, Pheola. That's why I'm alive. Smythe would have killed me with that dart gun of his. _You_ were my vigoris.h.!.+”

We rode the 'copter together to the airport. Old Grand Master Maragon would sneer out of the other side of his face when I brought Pheola to him. He couldn't keep _her_ from PC training. She _had_ it.

”Tell me,” I asked her. ”Can you always tell what I'm going to do next?”

”I reckon,” she said. ”If I think hard about it.”

”But you can't _control_ what I'm going to do next, can you?” I grinned.

”I wonder,” she said. ”Never tried, yet.”

”Oh, no!” I groaned.

She showed me her buck teeth in a smile. ”I figger first you'll have them straighten my teeth,” she said. ”You'd like a pretty wife.”

”If it's got to be,” I said weakly. ”That would help. I just wish there was some way to handle that hysterical sniffle of yours, that's all. But I guess that's the price you have to pay for that awful load of Psi power you have.”

”Oh, that,” she said. ”I ought to be over that by tomorrow. I hardly ever get a cold, darlin' Billy, and when I do, I throw it off in a few days.”

Well, I guess it's a cinch I'm no PC.

THE END

<script>