"No way."

Wager shrugged. "But you're the one who should go. I'm more than capable of running things around here."

"I know." Connor heaved out his breath. "You should have been promoted a long time ago."

"I don't know about that," the lieutenant said easily. "My emotions get in the way more than they should. I'm growing out of it, but it's taken me a few centuries."

Connor turned toward the open archway. "I'll go speak to the men. You find me a Medium in Southern California."

"Captain?" Wager called after him.

"Yes?"

"About coming back…"

Jaw tensing, Connor raised both brows in silent query.

"I discovered something else. When we physically ride a human's stream of subconscious thought, we leave a traceable thread behind. It can then be used to 'yank' the Guardian back."

"That's how the Elders brought Aidan back?"

"Apparently. If necessary, we can pull you back the same way. But… the Medium is damaged in the process."

"Damaged?"

"It's fatal to humans." The lieutenant crossed his arms and settled more firmly on his heels, a stance Connor had come to recognize as preparation for a difficult task. "Strokes, dilated cardiomyopathy… 'sudden deaths' are the result."

"Shit." Connor reached out to the threshold of the archway and leaned his weight into it. "That's why it's not a viable means of hopping between the two planes."

"I suspect that's the reason we haven't migrated over there," Wager agreed, "if only in small numbers. We would have to leave guards behind to prevent the Nightmares from using the slipstreams. No battalion would want that assignment indefinitely and we'd have to leave at least that many behind to stem the flow of Nightmares from the Gateway and guard the Valley."