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. Xris wouldn't betray you. Damn it, I know him!"
"Match," sang out the computer suddenly, with what Tusk considered an irritating note of triumph. "Photo I.D. Cyborg. Name: Xris. Planet of origin--"
"What about the voice?" Dixter snapped, interrupting the flow of statistics.
"Match. Voice print I.D. Cyborg. Name: Xris. Planet of origin--"
Dixter ordered the computer to be quiet.
Tusk shrugged helplessly. "There has to be some explanation, sir!"
Dixter said nothing, turned his attention back to his rear admiral. "We think we have an I.D., Rod."
"You do? Damn, that was quick. And we've just received a report from the 'tick.' The plane's course will have it coming out of hyperspace in about six hours. The question is, do we shoot to kill, knowing they've got Major Mohini aboard? Or do we try to capture them and risk losing them?"
Dixter was silent, thinking.
Tusk was thinking, too, about the time he'd been shot all to pieces, about Xris coming to his rescue, hauling him through heavy enemy fire to safety.
"This is Xris, sir!" Tusk couldn't help saying.
Dixter cast him a stern glance. "I am aware of that, Commander."
"Sorry, sir." Tusk knew he'd gone too far, overstepped the line.
Dixter sighed, stared at the photo I.D. of the cyborg, who had more than once put his life on the line for a number of people John Dixter cared about
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