Locked out of the neural net. Well, that was his position as Guildmaster gone, right there. All the work, all the years just gone for a circumstance out of his control. DeVirgo kept on talking, but Stoat didn't really hear what was being said. He was thinking of his father, dead these long years, who had taught him to hunt. His mother, long since remarried, and now living in peace on Planet Denver. He'd not spoken to her in three years. He sighed deepely as he wondered whether he'd get the chance now. Then something DeVirgo said caught his ear, and he looked up sharply.
"What? Say that again."
DeVirgo stopped short. "Hmmm? Not paying attention already? As I was saying, you're off by a factor of ....."
"No!" Stoat interrupted. "Not that! The last bit you said. Something about control."
"If you'd listened the first time, I wouldn't have to repeat myself, Stoat! The nomads don't seem to be taking complete control in quite so many cases recently. Now whether this is deliberate, or just coincidental, is unclear, but you wanted an optimistic angle, as I recall. That's about as optimistic as things get for you."
Stoat kicked the bed angrily. "You might have got to that a bit bloody sooner, Max! So, there's a chance for me right? That I might not become no more than a walking corpse?"
DeVirgo smiled grimly. "It looks that way, unless, as I said, it's just coincidental. But let's get out of here and into somewhere a bit less ........................ terminal? You look like you could use a drink."
Stoat nodded, and followed DeVirgo through the door.
![[Image: Sig3.png]](http://i537.photobucket.com/albums/ff332/lib3drakeaj/Sig3.png)