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across the park. Before the pepheads had a chance to turn, I slashed the closest one across his right side, below the ribs. My knife sliced deep, cutting both liver and kidney. Bright red blood splashed on the ground. He fell forward.
    The other pephead glanced back to see what had happened. As he did, the sailor lunged with his blade, catching him under his chin. He fell backward, dead. It was not a peaceful death for either pephead. With death, the neural and hormonal energies maintaining their disguises relaxed. Their appearances reverted to true form—an unpleasant metamorphosis. Skin fibrillated as if worms were wiggling underneath. Muscles snapped against tendons. Bone grated and crunched as it was remodeled.
    I looked away, having seen enough. The sailor had slumped against the wall. His knife lay beside him. He motioned me over. I kneeled beside him, leaning over to place my ear close to his lips.
    He whispered: “Who are you?”
    “I saw you in the casino.”
    “But who are you?”
    “No one. Nobody important.”
    “Yes you are,” he said. He tried to laugh, but the sound bubbled in his throat. He coughed up a clot of blood. “Your face has haunted my dreams for a long time. I thought you would be my killer, not my rescuer. When I saw you following me, I knew my time had come. Just as the deathstone foretold. I knew when I saw your face that all my plots had been in vain.” He twisted his neck to look through the persplex wall. He tapped against it with his finger. “I thought this would be the wall of a dome in space. Somewhere on one of the outer moons. How was I to guess it was water swirling beyond and not liquid ammonia and methane? I came to Earth fleeing the vision of my death, not seeking it.” He took a deep breath. Bubbles gurgled in his chest. “Nels was right. I, too, should have become a mindrider and lost myself in the mind casinos of Chronus. Should have gotten rid of this body. It’ll never catch up to Nels. Nels is safe.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “You will.”
    “But I’ve never seen you before. How could you know me?”
    “The stone showed me your face. No matter how hard you try you always succumb to the temptation to see your own death. I knew you’d also witness mine.”
    I pointed to the dead chameleons, “Why were they after you? What did the spooks want?”
    “The stone, of course. Kramr wants the stone.”
    “The stone?”
    He held out his hand. Light sparked from the gem in his ring. “Just a flawed chip of the real one,” he said. “A timestone.” Then he managed to laugh. “And a deathstone for sure.” He looked at me in a funny way, almost apologeticaIIy. “Here, you take it. The cycle must remain unbroken.” He slipped off the ring and pushed it into my hand. Then his body shook with paroxysms of cough. Red foam ran from his nostrils. He whispered again. I leaned closer, so I could hear. He was delirious, of course. His ravings made no sense, then. He told the whole story, though. Later I would put it all together. I’m corning to that part.
    After he died, I slipped the sailor’s ring onto my finger. A strange warmth emanated from its gemstone. Then I took the casino chit from his cape and pocketed it. Money could do him no good now. It could do me a lot of good. I had plans. I also strapped on his knife sheath and slipped his blade into it. No cleaning was necessary. Blood didn’t stick to sonic blades. I was careful to wipe my fingerprints from the other knife handle.
    As I was leaving, I looked at the chameleon I’d killed. He’d reverted to his true morphology. Quite ordinary, actually. Then it hit me. This was my first killing. I admired the wound I had made in the chameleon’s side. It had been easy. And the feeling wasn’t at all bad.
    Then I got the Frisco out. Spooks didn’t like their kind being killed. I wanted to be far away when the bodies were discovered. A vendetta against me was not my idea of fun.
    A week later I got pinched