Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,

diverted Killashandra toward the shadowy side. Borella, Concera, and that simp, Gobbain, she murmured as she made a hasty detour. You dont like them? Killashandra was amused. Antona shrugged. One establishes a friendship by sharing events and opinions. They remember nothing and consequently have nothing to share. And less to talk about. Without warning, Antona caught Killashandra by the arm, turning to face her. Do yourself a sterling favor, Killa. Put everything youve experienced so far in your life, every detail you can recall from cutting expeditions, every conversation youve had, every joke youve heard, put everything when Killashandra affected surprise, Antona gave her arm a painful squeeze and yes, I do mean everything, into your personal retrieval file. What you did. what you said, what you felt and Antonas fierce gaze challenged Privacy how youve loved. Then, when your mind is as blank as theirs, you can refresh your memory and have something with which to reestablish you! Her expression became intensely sad. Oh, Killa. Be different! Do as I ask! Now! Before its too late! Then, her customary composure restored, she released the arm and seemed to draw the intensity back into her straight, slim body. Because I assure you, she said as she took the last few steps into the catering area, that once your brilliant wit and repartee become as banal and malicious as theirs, she jerked her thumb at the silent trio, Ill seek other company at lunch. Now, she said, her fingers poised over the catering terminal, what are you having? Yarran beer. Killashandra said the first thing that came to mind, being slightly dazed by Antonas unexpected outburst. Antona raised her eyebrows in mock surprise, then rapidly dialed their orders. They were served quickly and took their trays to the nearest banquette. As Antona tackled her meal with good appetite, Killashandra sipped her beer, digesting Antonas remarkable advice. Till then, Killashandra had had no opportunity to appreciate the viewpoint of a colleague who would not lose her memory as an occupational hazard. Stubbornly, Killashandra preferred to forget certain scenes in her life. Like failure. Well, you dont have long to wait for a fresh supply of cluttered minds, Killashandra said at last, blotting the beer foam from her upper lip and deferring conversation on Antonas unsettling advice. A new class? How did that privileged information seep out? You are only just out of an Infirmary tank. download digital camera and imaging software Well, you wont be allowed to brief them if thats what you had in mind, Killa. Why not? Antona shrugged and daintily sampled her nicely browned casserole before replying. Youve no injury to display. Thats an important part of the briefing, you see the visible, undeniable proof of the rapid tissue regeneration enjoyed by residents of Ballybran. Irresistible! Antona gave Killashandra a sharp glance. Oh, no complaints from me, Antona. The Guild can be proud of its adroit recruiting program. Antona fastened a searching glance on her face and put down her fork. Killashandra Ree, the Heptite Guild is not permitted by the Federated Sentient Planets to recruit free citizens for such a hazardous profession. Only volunteers Only volunteers insist on presenting themselves, and so many of these have exceedingly useful skills She broke off, momentarily disconcerted by Antonas almost fierce glance. What concern is that of yours, Killashandra Ree? You have benefited immensely from the selection process. Despite my unexpected inclusion. A few odd ones slip through no matter how careful we are, Antona said all too sweetly, her eyes sparkling. Dont fret, Antona. Its not a subject that I would discuss with anyone else. Particularly Lanzecki. Im not likely to get that sort of an opportunity, she said, wondering if Antona knew or suspected their relationship. Or if her advice to remember loves and emotions had merely been a general warning to include all experience. Would Killashandra want to remember, decades from now, that she and Lanzecki had briefly been lovers? Advise me, Antona, on which of our nearer spatial neighbors I should plan a brief vacation? Antona grimaced. You might just as well pick the name at random for all the difference there is among them. Their only advantage is that they are far enough away from Ballybran to give your nerves the rest they need. Just then a cheerful voice hailed them. Killa! Antona! Am I glad to see someone else alive! Rimbol exclaimed, hobbling out of the shadows. He grinned as he saw the pitcher of beer. May I join you? By all means, Antona said graciously. What happened to you? Killashandra asked. Rimbols cheek and forehead were liberally

They were as blacke as they might be,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

Canst thou be my sole world, my universe!

try some of the brews, too. Wine and beer? Polabod exclaimed in surprise. Crystal singers are required to keep a high blood-alcohol content when absent from Ballybran. Ill have to decide which is the best for my particular requirement. She sighed in patient forebearance. I wasnt informed that members of your Guild required special diets. Thyrol was clearly perturbed. No special diet, Killashandra agreed, but we do require larger intakes of certain natural substances from time to time. Such as alcohol. Oh, I see, Thyrol replied, although clearly he did not. Does no one on this repulsive planet have a sense of humor? Killashandra wondered. Ah, here we are so soon, Pirinio said, for the vehicle had swung down the curving drive to the imposing main entrance of the largest building on this musical height. In orderly fashion but in decorous haste, a second welcoming committee formed itself on the wide and shallow marble steps under the colonnaded portico that shielded the massive central doors of the edifice. Although large urns had been planted with some sort of weeping tree to soften the harsh architecture, the effect was forbidding, rather than welcoming. Killashandra emerged from the vehicle, ignoring Thyrols outstretched hand. The Optherians obsequious behavior could quickly become a major irritant. She had just straightened up and turned to step forward when something slammed hard into her left shoulder and she was thrown off balance against the vehicle. The fleshy point of her shoulder stung briefly then began to throb. Thyrol began to bellow incoherently before he attempted to embrace her in the misguided notion that she needed his assistance. For the next few moments total chaos erupted: Thyrol, Pirinio, and Polabod dashed about, issuing conflicting orders. The throng of dignitaries turned into a terrified mob, splintering into groups which fled, stood paralyzed, or added their shouts to the tumult. A flock of airborne sleds reared up from the plateau to hover above the Music Complex, darting off on diverse errands. Mirbethan was the only one able to keep her wits. She tore a strip from the hem of her gown, and despite Killashandras protestations that she required no aid, bound the wound. And it was she who discovered the weapon, imbedded in the upholstery of the back seat. Thats a businesslike piece of wickedness, Killashandra remarked as she camcorder amp digital camera battery chargers studied the asterisk-bladed object, three of its lethal blades buried in the seat back. The one which had wounded her pointed outward, a strand of her sleeve material laid neatly along the cutting edge. Dont touch it Mirbethan put out her hand to prevent such action. No fear, Killashandra said, straightening up. Local manufacture? No. Mirbethans voice took on a note of indignant anger. An island implement. An outrage. We shall spare no effort to discover the perpetrator of this deed. There was a subtle, but discernible, alteration in Mirbethans tone between her first two remarks and the last which Killashandra caught but could not then analyze, for the rest of the committee suddenly recalled that there had been a victim of this outrage and more attentions were showered on Killashandra by the concerned. Despite her protestations, she was carried into the vaulting entrance hall of the main building, and whisked along a corridor, lined floor to ceiling with portraits of men and women. Even in her swift passage she noticed that they all smiled in the same tight, smug way. Then she was conducted to a lift while dignitaries bickered about who should accompany her in the limited space. Once again, Mirbethan won Killashandras approval by closing the door on the argument. They were met at their destination by a full medical convention and Killashandra was made to lie on a gurney and was wheeled into diagnostics. At the moment of truth. when the temporary bandaging was reverently unwound from the injury, there was a stunned silence. I could have spared everyone a great deal of unnecessary effort, Killashandra remarked dryly after she glanced at the clean, bloodless cut. As a crystal singer, I heal very quickly and am not the least bit susceptible to infection. As you can see. Consternation was rampant, with all the medics exclaiming over the wound, and others cramming forward in an attempt to witness this miracle of regeneration. Glancing up, Killashandra saw the very smug smile on Mirbethans face, so very like the smiles on the portraits. To what agency do you attribute such remarkable healing properties? asked the eldest of the medical people in attendance. To living on Ballybran, Killashandra replied. As you must surely be aware, the resonance of crystal slows down the degenerative process. Tissue damage regenerates quickly. By this evening this minor

Now here on the bridge we will play;

reappearance was fortuitous. Just as I suspected, Elder Ampris, a loose bracket on the middle G. I checked both manuals thoroughly. Ampris regarded Trag with a moments keen suspicion. You dont play, he said. No. Then how can you tune crystal? Killashandra laughed aloud. Elder Ampris, every would-be crystal singer has perfect and absolute pitch or they cant get into the Heptite Guild. Guildmember Trag doesnt need to be a trained musician. Guildmaster Lanzecki isnt either. One of the reasons I was chosen for this assignment is because I am and trained in keyboard music. Now, Trag, if you will inspect the installation? She and Lars lifted off the cover. Trag was not above giving Ampris a second fright for he tapped out three of the Beethoven notes in the soprano register before altering the sequence to random notes. Then he did each note in turn, listening until the exquisite sound completely died before hitting the next crystal. Absolutely perfect, he said, handing her the hammer. Now, with your permission, Elder Ampris, Killashandra began, I would like to use the organ keyboard. When she saw his brief hesitancy, she added. It would be such an honor for me and it would only be the sonics. After last nights performance, I would be brash indeed to attempt any embellishments. Bowing stiffly to the inevitable, Elder Ampris gestured for her to proceed from the loft. Not that she could have done anything to damage the actual organ keyboard, and live, with so many security guards millimeters from her. As she took her seat, pretending to ignore the battery of eyes and sour expressions, she decided against any of the Beethoven pieces she remembered from her Fuertan days. That would be risking more than her personal satisfaction was worth. She began to power up the various systems of the organ, allowing the electronic circuits to warm up and stabilize. She also discarded a whimsical notion to use one of Larss themes. She flexed her fingers, pulled out the appropriate stops, and did a rapid dance on the foot pedals to test their reactions. Diplomatically she began with the opening chords of a Fuertan love song, reminiscent of one of the folk tunes that shed heard that first magical night on the beach with Lars. The keyboard had an exquisitely light touch and, knowing herself to be rather heavy handed, she tried to find the right balance, before kodak z712is digital camera best prices she began the lilting melody. Even playing softly and delicately, she felt, rather than heard, the sound returning from the perfect acoustics of the auditorium. The phase shield around the organ protected her from the full response. Playing this Festival organ was an incredible, purely musical experience as she switched to lowest manual for the bass line. For her as a singer, keyboards had been essential only as accompaniment, tolerated in place of orchestra and choral augmentation. She might have been supercilious about the Optherian contention that an organ was the ultimate instrument, but she was willing to revise her opinion of it upward. Even the simple folk song, embellished with color, scent and the joy of spring, she thought sardonically, was doubly effective as a mood setter when played on the Optherian organ. She was sorely tempted to reach up and pull out a few of the stops that ringed the console. Abruptly she changed to a dominant key and a martial air, lots of the bass notes in a sturdy thumpy-thump, but half-way through she tired of that mood, and found herself involved in the accompaniment to a favorite aria. Not wishing to spoil the rich music by singing, she transferred the melodic line to the manual she had just repaired, taking the orchestra part in the second manual and the pedal bass. The tenors reprise naturally followed, on the third manual, mellower than the soprano range. From that final chord, she found herself playing a tune, filling in with a chorded bass, and not quite certain what tune it was when she felt someone pinch her hip. Her fingers jerked down the keys just as she realized that it was Larss melody she was rehearsing. She made the slip of her fingers into the first music that came to mind, an ancient anthem with distinct religious overtones. She ended that in a flourish of keyboard embellishments and, with considerable reluctance, lifted her hands and feet from the organ, swiveling around on the seat. Lars, being nearest, took her hand to ease her to the ground from the high organ perch. The pressure of his fingers was complimentary, if the arch of his eyebrows chided her for that slip. It was the surprise on Elder Ampriss face that pleased her the most. My dear Killashandra, I had no idea you were so accomplished, he said with renewed affability. Woefully out of practice, she said demurely, though she knew that she had struck few wrong notes and her sense of tempo had always

Canst thou be my sole world, my universe!

He had prepared himself for that. He wasnt killed by a crystal fragment, Killa, he was murdered by it. I think it was because he had found the access to the subliminal units. Subliminals! Killashandra seethed with horror at the potentially total control. And he found the access? Where? All I need is one look at them Lars regarded her solemnly. Thats all we need once we find them. Theyve got to be somewhere in the organ loft. Well, then Killashandra embraced him exuberantly wasnt I clever to insist that you and I handle the repairs all by ourselves. If were allowed! Youve the jammer. She rose from the deep bath, Lars following her. Say, if your fathers so clever with electronics, why hasnt he figured a Way to jam the shuttleport detection arch? Lars chuckled as she dried him, for once more interested in something other than his physical effect on her. Hes spent close to thirty years trying. We even have a replica of the detector on Angel. But we cannot figure a way to mask that residue. Watch out for my ears! She had been briskly toweling his hair. Does the detector always catch the native? Infallible. And yet She wrapped her hair in a towel. She pointed to the jammer and then proceeded to the salon. Lars followed, the jammer held above his head like a torch, a diabolical gleam in his eye as he waved it at each of the monitors he passed. Yet when Thyrol came out right with me, the detector didnt catch him. And passed me. What? No matter how many people pass under it, it will always detect the native! It didnt then! I wonder if it had anything to do with crystal resonance. You mean in you? Hmmm. Its not exactly something we can experiment with, is it? Prancing in and out of the shuttleport. Hardly and were half a world away from the only other one. Well, we can worry about that later. After weve found the access and after weve repaired that wretched organ! Now, and she opened the doors of the beverage store with a flourish, what shall we drink with our supper? Chapter 19 Killashandra woke before the chimes, which did not sound in her suite but were nevertheless audible from the adjacent sections of the Conservatory. She woke refreshed and totally relaxed, and cautiously eased herself away from Larss supine body so that she might have a better view of his features of professional digital cameras sleeping form. She fell oddly protective of him as she propped her head on one hand and minutely inspected his profile. Thus she noticed that the tips of his long eyelashes were bleached and the lid itself was not as dark as the surrounding skin. Fine laugh, or sun lines, fanned out from the corners to the temple. The arch of his nose just missed being too high, too thin, being balanced by fine modeling and length. His cheeks wore a dusting of freckles which she hadnt noticed before. And several dark brow hairs were out of line as the brow curved around the eye socket. Several hairs bristled straight up at the inner edges of brows that would almost meet when he frowned. She liked best his wide lips, more patrician than sensual. She knew the havoc they could raise with her body and felt they were perhaps his best feature. Even in sleep, the corners raised slightly. His chin was rather broader than one was aware when his face was mobile, but the strong jawline swept back to well-shaped ears, also tan, with a spot of new sunburn about to peel on the top skin. The column of his neck was strong and the pulse beat in his throat. She wanted to put her finger tip on it and almost did before retracting her hand. He was more truly hers when asleep, untouched by stress, relaxed, his rib cage barely moving. She loved the line of his chest, the smooth skin clothing smooth pectoral muscle, and once again she had to repress the wish to run her hand down the shape of him, to feel the fine crisp hair on his chest. He was not hirsute and she found that much to her preference as well, his legs and arms having only a fine dusting of blond hairs. She had seen handsomer men but the composition of his face pleased her better. Lanzecki now that was the first time shed thought of him in days actually was the more distinguished in looks, heavier in build. She decided she preferred the way Lars Dahl was put together. She sighed. It was easier to be philosophical about Lanzecki. Would she have been as easily resigned to that loss if she hadnt met Lars Dahl? She had broken off with Lanzecki for his own good, but she hadnt lost him, for she would return to Ballybran. Once shed left Optheria For a moment her emotions hovered above a new abyss of despair and regret. And for the first time in her life, the thought of bearing a mans child crossed her mind. That was as much an impossibility as remaining with Lars, but it emphasized the depth of

When he robbed him of his gold.

a muttered word of thanks. He was only a kid, Mallory could see nowif he was more than nineteen, his looks belied him. A pleasant, open-faced kidof a different stamp altogether from the young fanatics of the S.S. Panzer Divisionand far too thin. Mallory's chief reaction was one of relief: he would have hated to have to kill a boy like this. But he had to find out all he could. He signalled to Stevens to hand him up the almost empty crate of Moselle. Jensen, he mused, had been very thorough indeed: the man had literally thought of everything. . . . Mallory gestured lazily in the direction of the old watch-tower. "How many of you are up there?" he asked. The boy was instantly suspicious. His face had tightened up, stified in hostile surmise. "Why do you want to know?" he asked stiffly. Mallory groaned, lifted his hands in despair, turned sadly to Andrea. "You see what it is to be one of them?" he asked in mournful complaint. "Trust nobody. Think everyone is as twisted as. . . ." He broke off hurriedly, turned to the soldier again. "It's just that we don't want to have the same trouble every time we come in here," he explained. "We'll be back in Samos in a couple of days, and we've still another case of Moselle to work through. General Graebel keeps hisahspecial envoys well supplied. . . . It must be thirsty work up there in the sun. Come on, now, a bottle each. How many bottles?" The reassuring mention that they would be back again, the equally reassuring mention of Graebel's name, plus, probably, the attraction of the offer and his comrades' reaction if he told them he had refused it, tipped the balance, overcame scruples and suspicions. "There are only three of us," he said grudgingly. "Three it is," Mallory said cheerfully. "We'll bring you some Hock next time we return." He tilted his own bottle. "Prosit!" he said, an islander proud of airing his German, and then, more proudly still, "Auf Wiedersehen!" The boy murmured something in return. He stood hesitating for a moment, slightly shame-faced, then wheeled abruptly, walked off slowly along the river bank, clutching his bottles of Moselle. "So!" Mallory said thoughtfully. "There are only three of them. That should make things easier" "Well done, sir!" It was Stevens who interrupted, his voice warm, his face alive with admiration. "Jolly good show!" "Jolly good show!" troubles with canon xti digital camera Miller mimicked. He heaved his lanky length over the coaming of the engine hatchway. "'Good' be damned! I couldn't understand a gawddamned word, but for my money that rates an Oscar. That was terrific, boss!" "Thank you, one and all," Mallory murmured. "But I'm afraid the congratulations are a bit premature." The sudden chill in his voice struck at them, so that their eyes aligned along his pointing finger even before he went on. "Take a look," he said quietly. The young soldier had halted suddenly about two hundred yards along the bank, looked into the forest on his left in startled surprise, then dived in among the trees. For a moment the watchers on the boat could see another soldier, talking excitedly to the boy and gesticulating in the direction of their boat, and then both were gone, lost in the gloom of the forest. "That's torn it!" Mallory said softly. He turned away. "Right, that's enough. Back to where you were. It would look fishy if we ignored that incident altogether, but it would look a damned sight fishier if we paid too much attention to it. Don't let's appear to be holding a conference." Miller slipped down into the engine-room with Brown, and Stevens went back to the little for'ard cabin. Mallory and Andrea remained on deck, bottles in their hands. The rain had stopped now, completely, but the wind was still rising, climbing the scale with imperceptible steadiness, beginning to bend the tops of the tallest of the pines. Temporarily the bluff was affording them almost complete protection. Mallory deliberately shut his mind to what it must be like outside. They had to put out to seaSpandaus permittingand that was that. "What do you think has happened, sir?" Stevens's voice carried up from the gloom of the cabin. "Pretty obvious, isn't it?" Mallory asked. He spoke loudly enough for all to hear. "They've been tipped off. Don't ask me how. This is the second timeand their suspicions are going to be considerably reinforced by the absence of a report from the caique that was sent to investigate us. She was carrying a wireless aerial, remember?" "But why should they get so damned suspicious all of a sudden?" Miller asked. "It doesn't make sense to me, boss." "Must be in radio contact with their H.Q. Or a telephone-probably a telephone. They've just been given the old tic-tac. Consternation on all sides." "So mebbe they'll be sending a small army over from their H.Q. to deal with us," Miller

Speak up, jolly blade, never fear;

symbiont had quieted, Killashandra wanted to avoid everyone, especially Lars. Carrigana? Lars called. Then she heard him approach the toilet and rap on the door. Carrigana? Would you mind fixing some hungry storm watchers more of those excellent sandwiches? Under ordinary circumstances, Killashandra would have had a tart rejoinder but catering would solve the more immediate problem. Just a moment. She splashed water on her face, smoothed back her hair, and regarded the blossoms about her neck. Strangely enough they were not dead, their petals were still fresh despite the creasing. Their fragrance scented her fingers as she opened the crushed flowers and spread them back into their original shapes. When she opened the door, Nahia and Hauness were making their way toward the catering area. They only want to talk weather, Nahia said with a smile. Well help you. The others did talk weather, but on the comunits to other islands, checking on storm damages and injuries, finding out what supplies would be required, and which island could best supply the needs. The three caterers served soup, a basic stew, and high-protein biscuits. In the company of Nahia and Hauness, the work was more pleasant than Killashandra would have believed. She had never met their likes before and realized that she probably never would again. The respite at the storms eye was all too brief, and soon the hurricane was more frightening in its renewed violence. Though it was a zephyr in comparison to Ballybran turbulence, Killashandra rated it a respectable storm, and slept through the rest of it. A touch on her shoulder woke her, a light touch that was then repeated and her shoulder held in a brief clasp. That was enough to bring Killashandra to full awareness and she looked up at Nahias perplexed expression. Killashandra smiled reassuringly, attempting to pass off the storm resonance still coursing through her body. As Lars was draped against her, she moved cautiously to a sitting position and took the steaming cup from Nahia with quiet thanks. Killashandra wondered how the man had been able to sleep with her body buzzing. Other storm watchers had disposed themselves for sleep about the room. Outside a hard rain was falling and a stout wind agitated the rain forest but the blow had become a shadow of its hurricane strength. We had orders to wake people as soon as the wind died to force five, Nahia said and extended a second hot cup to Killashandra for Lars. Has there been top rated subcompact digital camera much damage? Many injuries? Sufficient. The hurricane was unseasonably early and caught some communities unprepared. Olav is preparing emergency schedules for us. Us? Killashandra stared at Nahia in surprise. Surely youre not going to risk being seen and identified here? These are my own people, Carrigana. I am safest in the islands. Serenely confident, the beauty returned to the catering area. Lars had awakened during that brief interchange although he hadnt changed his position. His very blue eyes were watching her closely, no expression gave her a hint of his mood. Lazily he caressed her leg. Gradually his lips began to curve in a smile. What he might have said, what thoughts he held behind those keen eyes he did not share with her. Then he touched the garland she still wore, carefully unfolding a crushed petal. Will you be crew for me? We wont have much time together southbound. Tanny, Theach, and Erutown sail with us, and well be dropping off supplies here and there Of course Ill come, Killashandra said eagerly. She wouldnt miss the trip for the world. Only how would Lars take her deception? Would she lose him? Well, she didnt have to admit that she was the crystal singer they had incarcerated on the island! The winds out of the Back Harbor were brisk enough to be dangerous, but the well laden Pearl settled down to her task like the splendid craft she was. Erutown was the nonsailor among them and took to a bunk in the forward cabin until the motion sickness medication had taken effect. Theach had appropriated the small terminal, smiling with absentminded good humor at his shipmates, before he resumed his programming. Now that Tanny was on his way, he was as cheerful a companion as one could wish. Nor was he impatient with Killashandra as a crewmember. They had set sail once the winds had dropped to force three, one of the first of the larger sailing vessels to leave haven. Others were being loaded and crewed for their relief voyages. After the enforced idleness of the storm, it was good to be physically active. Killashandra didnt mind the wet weather nor the tussle with wind as she and Tanny made periodic checks of the deck cargo. Fresh water and food were unloaded at the first stop, and some emergency medical supplies. The Pearl had carefully motored past the debris floating in the small harbor: roofs, the sides of dwellings, innumerable polly trees, fruit bobbing about like so many bald heads.

Our battel shall be at an end.

many fiddling things requiring fine muscle coordination and complete concentration. She sighed wearily, turning slightly to smile apologetically at Mirbethan and the others. I want to be well rested to attack that repair tomorrow. Oh, Thyrol? With Captain Dahl to assist me, I wont need any other helpers. She took Larss arm and ascended the shallow steps to the main entrance. She felt him quivering but for which of several reasons she couldnt have told without glancing at his face. And she didnt dare do that. Do you know the way to my quarters, Captain Dahl? If I may just escort you, Mirbethan answered, hastening to lead the way. I was never in this part of the Conservatory, Crystal Singer, Lars said as they entered the imposing main lobby. Youve been to the conservatory, Captain Dahl? Killashandra asked. Yes, Guildmember, I studied here for three years. Why, Captain, you have unexplored capabilities. Are you then a singer? Vocal music is not taught at the Conservatory: only the organ. Really, I would have thought the planets main Conservatory would exploit every musical potential. How odd! Do you find it so, Guildmember? In other parts of the FSP, vocal arts are much admired, and a Stellar soloist highly respected. Optheria places more value on the most complex of instruments. Larss tone was of mild reproof. The sensory organ combines sound, olfactory and tactile sensations to produce a total orchestration of alternate reality for the participant. Is the organ limited to Optheria? Ive never encountered one before in all my voyaging. It is unique to Optheria. Which certainly has many unique experiences for the visitor. Mirbethans pace, and her erect back, seemed to reflect at once her approval, and shock, at their conversation. Why, then, Captain Dahl, if you have studied to use the organ, are you sailing about in the islands? Because, Guildmember, my composition was ah not approved by the Masters who pass judgment on such aspirations, so I returned to my previous occupation. To be sure, I am selfishly glad, Captain for who would have rescued me had you not been in those waters? Killashandra sighed deeply just as they turned the corridor into the hall she did olumpus digital camera c-4000 recognize . Mirbethan? The woman whirled, her expression composed though she was breathing rather rapidly. By any chance, I mean, I know Ive been gone a good while, but I do hope that those beverages Your catering facility has been completely stocked with the beverages of your choice. And the chimes have been turned off? Mirbethan nodded. And the catering unit instructed to supply proper-size portions of food without requiring additional authorization? Thank you. I, for one, am starving. Sea air, you know. With a final smile, Killashandra swept through the door Lars held open. By the time he had shut it, she had discovered four ceiling surveillance units in the main salon. I am quite weary, Captain. With due respect, Guildmember, you did not eat much of the evening meal, perhaps a light supper The variety on the catering unit seems geared to student requirements unless you, having spent time here, can make a suggestion. Indeed I would be delighted to, Guildmember. Lars located several more as they moved through the suite to the two bedrooms. He peered into the first bathing room and grinned broadly at her. May I draw you a bath? An excellent idea. She strode to what was evidently the one room that had been left unmonitored. Lars began filling the tub, having turned the taps on full. He reached into his tunic and extracted an innocuous metal ball. A deceiver, Father calls it. It distorts picture and sound we can be quite free once its operating. And when we leave the suite, he grinned, miming the device returned to his pocket itll drive their technicians wild. Wont they realize that the distortion only works when were here? I suggest that tomorrow you complain about being monitored in the bedroom. Can we cope with just one free room? He began to undress her, his expression intense with anticipation. Two, Killashandra corrected him with a coy moue as the bright and elegant overall Teradia had chosen for her fell in a rainbow puddle at her feet. It was, of course, thoroughly soaked with the water displaced when Lars overbalanced her into the tub. When they had sated their appetites sufficiently, Killashandra idly described wet circles on the broad expanse of Larss chest. I think that with the

A stranger he chancd to espy.

concealing shroud over him, in an hour he would be no more than a featureless white mound in a featureless white valley. My hands were too numb to examine him, but I wouldn't have bothered anyway: the half-century of self-indulgence in food and drink and temper, all of which had been so clearly reflected in the heavy florid face when first I'd seen him, had had their inevitable way. The heart, cerebral thrombosis, it didn't matter now. But he had been a man. How long we lay there, the six of us and Balto huddled close together for warmth, unconscious or dozing while that hurricane of a blizzard reached then passed its howling crescendo, I never knew. Probably only half an hour, perhaps not even that. When I awoke, stiff and numbed, I reached for Jackstraw's torch. It was exactly four o'clock in the morning. I looked at the others. Jackstraw was wide awake -1 was pretty sure he'd never shut an eye lest one of us slip away from sleep into that easy frozen sleep from which there would have been no wakeningand Zagero was stirring. That theyand Iwould survive, I didn't doubt. Helene was a question mark. A seventeen-year-old, though short on endurance, was usually high on resilience and recuperative powers, but Helene's seemed to have deserted her. After the death of her mistress and up to the time she had collapsed she had become strangely withdrawn and unresponsive, and I guessed that the death of Mrs Dansby-Gregg had hit her far more than any of us would have guessed. The previous forty-eight hours apart, it seemed to me that she had had little enough to thank Mrs Dansby-Gregg for in the way of affection and warmth: but, then, she was young, Mrs Dansby-Gregg had been the person she had known best and, as a foreigner, she must have regarded Mrs Dansby-Gregg as her sole anchor in an alien sea.... I asked Jackstraw if he would massage her hands, then turned to have a look at Mahler and Marie LeGarde. "They don't look so hot to me." Zagero, too, was studying them. "What's their chances', Doc?" "I just don't know," I said wearily. "I don't know at all." "Don't take it to heart, Doc. It's no fault of yours." Zagero waved a hand towards the snow-filled emptiness and desolation of the glacier. "Your dispensary ain't all that well stocked." "No." I smiled faintly, then nodded at Mahler. "Bend down and listen to his breathing. The end's coming pretty close. Ordinarily I'd say a couple of hours. With Mahler I don't knowhe's got the will to live,sheer guts,his beliefs-the lot.. how many americans own digital cameras . . But in twelve hours he'll be dead." "And how long do you give me, Dr Mason?" I twisted round and gazed down at Marie LeGarde. Her voice was no more than a weak, husky whisper: she was trying to smile, but the smile was a pitiful grimace and there was no humour in either the eyes or the voice. "Good lord, you've come to!" I reached out, pulled off her gloves and started to massage the frozen wasted hands. "This is wonderful. How do you feel, Miss LeGarde?" "How do you think I feel?" she said with a flash of her old spirit. "Don't try to put me off, Peter. How long?" "About another thousand curtain calls at the old Adelphi." The light came from the torch that had been thrust, butt down, into the snow, and I bent forward so that my face was shadowed, my expression unreadable. "Seriously, the fact that you've recovered consciousness is a good sign." "I once played a queen who recovered consciousness only to speak a few dramatic words before she died. Only, I can't think of any dramatic words." I had to strain to catch the feeble whispered words. "You're a shocking liar, Peter. Is there any hope for us at all?" "Certainly," I lied. Anything to get away from that topic. "We'll be on the coast, with a good chance of being picked up by ship or plane, tomorrow afternoonthis afternoon, rather. It can't be more than twenty miles from here." "Twenty miles!" Zagero interjected. "In this little lot?" He raised a cupped hand significantly to his ear, a gesture superbly superfluous in the ululating shriek of the blizzard. "It won't last, Mr Zagero," Jackstraw put in. "These williwaws always blow themselves out in a short time. This already has gone on longer than most and it's easing a lot. Tomorrow will be clear and calm and cold." "The cold will be a change," Zagero said'feelingly. He looked past me. "The old lady's off again, Doc!" "Yes." I stopped massaging her hands and slid the gloves on. "Let's have a look at these paws of yours, Mr Zagero, will you?" " 'Johnny' to you, Doc. I've been dismissed without a stain on my character, remember?" He thrust his big hands out for inspection. "Pretty, aren't they?" They weren't pretty, they were the worst case of frostbite I had ever seen, and I had seen all too many, in Korea and later. They were white and yellow and dead. The original skin had vanished under a mass of blisters, and from

Long, long shall I rue thee,

forearms crystal scar (and how could she explain those at this point in a magical interlude) down to her hands where his strong tapered fingers fit in between hers. I dont know what you did to me, Carrigana. Ive never had a love experience like that before. A rueful laugh that cracked because he couldnt keep it soft enough to match his whisper. I know that when a mans been troubled, a normal reaction is to seek sexual relief from a woman any woman. But you werent just any woman last night, Carrigana. You were incredible. Please open your eyes so that I can see you believe what Im saying because it is true! Killashandra could not have ignored the plea, the sincerity, the soul sound in his voice. She opened her eyes. His were inches away and she was gripped by an overpowering surge of love, affection, sensuality, empathy, and compassion for this incredib1e and talented young man. Relief was mirrored in the very clear blue of his eyes: a morning-lagoon-in-sunlight clear blue, as vivid as the sea could sometimes be. Relief and the sudden welling up of tears. With the shuddering sigh that rippled down his body, so close to hers, he dropped his head to the point of her shoulder, just above the knife-scar. When, at length, he confessed that he had caused it, she would willingly forgive him. Just as she was willing to forgive him her abduction, for whatever marvelous reason he might submit. After last night, how could she deny him anything? Perhaps last night had been such a unique combination of emotional upheavals that a repetition was unlikely. The prospect made her smile. As if he sensed her responses he had certainly sensed them last night he lifted his head again, anxious eyes searching her face. She saw that he was not unscathed, for his lower lip was red and puffy as he tried to echo her smile. Then she chuckled, tracing the line of his mouth with an apologetic finger. I dont think I can ever forget last night happened, Lars Dahl. Would she ever find adequate words to record this on her personal file at Ballybran? She let her finger drop to his jaw. His grin became more self-confident, and his fingers squeezed hers lightly. Theres one problem His face tightened with concern. How long will it take us to recover to try it again? Lars Dahl burst out laughing, rolling away from her. You may be the death of me, Carrigana. Once again Killashandra ardently refretted using that particular pseudonym. She consumer reports best small digital camera desperately wanted to confess everything and hear her own name on his lips, in his rich and sensual voice. Like last night? Oh my precious Sunny, he replied, his voice altering from spontaneous laughter to urgent loverliness as he rolled back to her, his hand gently cupping her head, fingers stroking her hair, it was almost a death to leave you. That he might be quoting some planetary poet, she discarded as unworthy. Her body and mind echoed the sentiment. Their exhausted sleep had been like a little death, it had overtaken them so completely. With total unconcern for aesthetics, her stomach rumbled alarmingly. They suppressed a laugh and then let their laughter blend, as they enveloped each other in loving arms. Cmon, Ill race you to the sea, Lars said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. A swim to cool us off. He rose lithely to his feet, offering her a hand. It was only when the light blanket fell from her body that she realized its presence. And noticed the small basket to one side of the clearing, the unmistakable neck of a wine jug protruding from the lazy stream. I woke at dawn, Lars said, hands on her shoulders as he gently inclined forward to kiss her cheek. The wind was a touch chilly. So I got a few things for us. Could we spend today together and alone? Killashandra leaned lovingly against him for a moment. I feel remarkably unsocial. She wanted nothing more. Youll barely look at me! Lars voice rippled with amused complaint. Her hands began to caress him as his were gentle on her arms. Almost guiltily they broke apart. Laughing, they joined hands and pressed through the bushes toward the seashore. The sea was calm, the waves mere ripples flopping over at the last moment onto the smooth, wet sand. The water was soothing, soft against her body. Finally hunger could no longer be denied and they sprinted back to the secret clearing, patting each other dry, carefully avoiding the sorest spots. That morning Lars had acquired fresh fruits, bread, and a soft savory cheese as well as some of the flavorful dried fish that was an island specialty. There was wine to wash it all down. Lars had also had the wit to borrow from Mama Tullas wash line a voluminous and comfortable kaftan for her and a thigh length shirt for himself. They were both hungry enough to concentrate on eating, but they smiled whenever

"I 'll serve you with all my whole heart;

dozen US air force search bombers are already operating from Thule and Sondre Strom-fjord. US coastguard cutters are on the job, a flotilla of Canadian destroyers have been rerouted from mid-Atlantic and are steaming at full speed for the southern entrance of the Davis Straitalthough it will take them at least thirty-six more hours to get thereand a British aircraft-carrier, accompanied by a couple of destroyers, has already rounded Cape Farewell: we don't know yet how far north she can get, the ice is solid on the Baffin side, but it's open at least to Disko on the Greenland coast, maybe as far as Svartenhuk. All IGY stations in Greenland have been ordered to join in the search. That's why we came back non-stop to the cabinto pick up more petrol." I could contain myself no longer, threw over the receiving switch. "What on earth's all the mad flap about? You'd think the President of the United States and half the Royal Family were aboard that plane. Why no more information from Uplavnik?" I waited, and then Hillcrest's voice crackled again. "Radio transmission impossible during preceding twenty-four hours. Will raise them now, tell them we've found the missing plane and that you're on your way to the coast. Any fresh developments with you?" "None. Correction. One of the passengersMahlerturns out to be an advanced diabetic. He's in a bad way. Radio Uplavnik to get insulin. Godthaab will have it." "Wilco," the microphone crackled back. A long pause, during which I could faintly hear the murmur of conversation, then Hillcrest came on again. "Suggest you return to meet us. We have plenty of petrol, plenty of food. With eight of us on guard instead of two, nothing could happen. We're already forty miles out" -1 glanced at Jackstraw, caught the sudden wrinkling of the eyes which I knew to be the tell-tale sign of a quick grin of astonished delight which so accurately reflected my own feelings'so not more than eighty miles behind you. We could meet up in five or six hours." I felt elation wash through me like a releasing wave. This was wonderful, this was more than anything I had ever dared hope for. All our troubles were at an end. . . . And then the momentary emotion of relief and triumph ebbed, the cold dismaying processes of reason moved in inexorably to take their place, and it didn't require the slow, definite shake of Jackstraw's head to tell me that the end of our troubles was as far away as ever. "No go," I radioed back. "Quite digital camera video combo fatal. The minute we turned back the killers would be bound to show their hand. And even if we don't turn they know now that we've been in contact with you and will be more desperate than ever. We must go on. Please follow at your best speed." I paused for a moment, then continued. "Emphasise to Uplavnik essential for our lives to know why crashed plane so important. Tell them to find out the passenger list, how genuine it is. This is absolutely imperative, Captain Hillcrest. Refuse to accept 'No' for an answer. We must know." We talked for another minute, but we'd really said all there was to be said. Besides, even during the brief periods that I'd pushed down my snow-mask to speak the cold had struck so cruelly at my cut and bleeding lips that I could now raise scarcely more than a mumble, so after arranging an 8 p.m. rendezvous and making a time-check I signed off. Back in the tractor cabin curiosity had reached fever pitch, but at least three minutes elapsedthree excruciatingly uncomfortable minutes while Jackstraw and I waited for the blood to come surging back through our frozen veinsbefore anyone ventured to speak. The inevitable question came from the Senatora now very much chastened Senator who had lost much of his choler and all of his colour, with the heavy jowls, hanging more loosely than ever, showing unhealthily pale through the grey grizzle of beard. The very fact that he spoke showed, I suppose, that he didn't regard himself as being heavily under suspicion. He was right enough in that. "Made contact with your friends, Dr Mason, eh? The field party, I mean." His voice was hesitant, unsure. "Yes," I nodded. "JossMr Londongot the set working after almost thirty hours' non-stop work. He raised Captain Hillcrest -he's in charge of the field partyand managed to establish a relay contact between us." I'd never heard of the phrase 'relay contact' in my life, but it sounded scientific enough. "He's packing up immediately, and coming after us." "Is that good?" the Senator asked hopefully. "I mean, how long-?" "Only a gesture, I'm afraid," I interrupted. "He's at least 258 miles away. His tractor's not a great deal faster than ours." It was, in fact, almost three times as fast. "Five or six days, at the least." Brewster nodded heavily and said no more. He looked disappointed, but he looked as if he believed me. I wondered which of them didn't believe me, which of them knew I was

When coming oer the sea."

back the curtain, looked out at the evening sky. "I will be back by seven o'clock." "Seven o'clock," Mallory repeated. The sky, he could see, was darkening already, darkening with the gloom of coming snow, and the lifting wind was beginning to puff little clouds of air-spun, flossy white into the little gully. Mallory shivered and caught hold of the massive arm. "For God's sake, Andrea," he urged quietly, "look after yourself!" "Myself?" Andrea smiled gently, no mirth in his eyes, and as gently he disengaged his arm. "Do not think about me." The voice was very quiet, with an utter lack of arrogance. "If you must speak to God, speak to Him about these poor devils who are looking for us." The canvas dropped behind him and he was gone. For some moments Mallory stood irresolutely at the mouth of the cave, gazing out sightlessly through the gap in the curtain. Then he wheeled abruptly, crossed the floor of the shelter and knelt in front of Stevens. The boy was propped up against Miller's anxious arm, the eyes lack-lustre and expressionless, bloodless cheeks deep-sunken in a grey and parchment face. Mallory smiled at him: he hoped the shock didn't show in his face. "Well, well, well. The sleeper awakes at last. Better late than never." He opened his waterproof cigarette case, profferred it to Stevens. "How are you feeling now, Andy?" "Frozen, sir." Stevens shook his head at the case and tried to grin back at Mallory, a feeble travesty of a smile that made Mallory wince. "And the leg?" "I think it must be frozen, too." Stevens looked down incuriously at the sheathed whiteness of his shattered leg. "Anyway, I can't feel a thing." "Frozen!" Miller's sniff was a masterpiece of injured pride. "Frozen, he says! Gawddanined ingratitude. It's the first-class medical care, if I do say so myself!" Stevens smiled, a fleeting, absent smile that flickered over his face and was gone. For long moments he kept staring down at his leg, then suddenly lifted his head and looked directly at Mallory. "Look, sir, there's no good kidding ourselves." The voice was soft, quite toneless. "I don't want to seem ungrateful and I hate even the idea of cheap heroics, butwell, I'm just a damned great millstone round your necks and" "Leave you, eh?" Mallory interrupted. "Leave you to die of the cold or be captured by the Germans. Forget it, laddie. We can look after youand these ruddy gunsat the same time." "But, digital hd cameras review sir" "You insult us, Lootenant." Miller sniffed again. "Our feelings are hurt. Besides, as a professional man I gotta see my case through to convalescence, and if you think I'm goin' to do that in any gawddamned dripping German dungeon, you can" "Enough!" Mallory held up his hand. "The subject is closed." He saw the stain high up on the thin cheeks, the glad light that touched the dulled eyes, and felt the self-loathing and the shame well up inside him, shame for the gratitude of a sick man who did not know that their concern stemmed not from solicitude but from fear that he might betray them. . . . Mallory bent forward and began to unlace his high jack-boots. He spoke without looking up. "Dusty." "Yeah?" "When you're finished boasting about your medical prowess, maybe you'd care to use some of it. Come and have a look at these feet of mine, will you? I'm afraid the sentry's boots haven't done them a great deal of good." Fifteen painful minutes later Miller snipped off the rough edges of the adhesive bandage that bound Mallory's right foot, straightened up stiffly and contemplated his handiwork with pride. "Beautiful, Miller, beautiful," he murmured complacently. "Not even in John Hopkins in the city of Baltimore . . ." He broke off suddenly, frowned down at the thickly bandaged feet and coughed apologetically. "A small point has just occurred to me, boss." "I thought it might eventually," Mallory said grimly. "Just how do you propose to get my feet into these damned boots again?" He shivered involuntarily as he pulled on a pair of thick woollen socks, matted and sodden with melted snow, picked up the German sentry's boots, held them at arm's length and examined them in disgust. "Sevens, at the mostand a darned small sevens at that!" "Nines," Stevens said laconically. He handed overhis own jack-boots, one of them slit neatly down the side where Andrea had cut it open. "You can fix that tear easily enough, and they're no damned good to me now. No arguments, sir, please." He began to laugh softly, broke off in a sharply indrawn hiss of pain as the movement jarred the broken bones, took a couple of deep, quivering breaths, then smiled whitely. "My firstand probably my lastcontribution to the expedition. What sort of medal do you reckon they'll give me for that, sir?" Mallory took the boots, looked at Stevens a long moment in silence, then turned as the tarpaulin was pushed aside. Brown stumbled in, lowered the transmitter

Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones.

she was blue with cold, and shivering uncontrollably. But she hadn't uttered a murmur throughout, and smiled gratefully at me when I was finished. Marie LeGarde regarded my handiwork approvingly. "I really do believe you have picked up some smattering of your trade along the way, Doctorah" "Mason. Peter Mason, Peter to my friends." " 'Peter' it shall be. Come on, Helene, into your clothes as fast as you like." Fifteen minutes later we were back in the cabin. Jackstraw went to unharness the dogs and secure them to the tethering cable, while Joss and I helped the two women down the ice-coated steps from the trap-door. But I had no sooner reached the foot of the steps than I had forgotten all about Marie LeGarde and Helene and was staring unbelievingly at the tableau before me. I was just vaguely aware of Joss by my shoulder, and anger and dismay on his face slowly giving way to a kind of reluctant horror. For what we saw, though it concerned us all, concerned him most of all. The injured wireless operator still lay where we had left him. All the others were there too, grouped in a rough semi-circle round him and round a cleared space to the left of the stove. By their feet in the centre of this space, upside down and with one corner completely stove in on the wooden floor, lay the big metal RCA radio transmitter and receiver, our sole source of contact with, our only means of summoning help from the outer world. I knew next to nothing about radios, but it was chillingly obvious to meas it was, I could see, to the semi-circle of fascinated onlookersthat the RCA was smashed beyond recovery. CHAPTER THREEMonday 2 A.M.3 A.M. Half a minute passed in complete silence, half a minute before I could trust myself to speak, even bring myself to speak. When at last I did, my voice was unnaturally low in die unnatural hush that was broken only by the interminable clacking of the anemometer cups above. "Splendid. Really splendid. The perfect end to the perfect day." I looked round them slowly, one by one, then gestured at the smashed transmitter. "What bloody idiot was responsible for thisthis stroke of genius?" "How dare you, sir!" The white-haired man whom I had mentally labelled as the Dixie colonel took a step forward, face flushed with anger. "Mind your tongue. We're not children to be" "Shut up!" I said, quietly enough, but there must have been something in my voice grand central digital camera rather less than reassuring, for he fell silent, though his fists still remained clenched. I looked at them all again. "Well?" "I'm afraidI'm afraid I did it," the stewardess faltered. Her brown eyes were as unnaturally large, her face as white and strained as when I had first seen her. "It's all my fault." "You! The one person here who should know just how vital radio really is. I don't believe it." "You must, I'm afraid." The quiet controlled voice belonged to the man with the cut brow. "No one else was anywhere near it at the time." "What happened to you?" I could see he was nursing a bruised and bleeding hand. "I dived for it when I saw it toppling." He smiled wryly. "I should have saved myself the trouble. That damned thing's heavy." "It's all that. Thanks for trying anyway. I'll fix your hand up later." I turned to the stewardess again, and not even that pale and exhausted face, the contrition in the eyes, could quieten my angerand, to be honest, my fear. "I suppose it just came to pieces in your hand?" "I've told you I'm sorry. II'was just kneeling beside Jimmy here" "Who?" "Jimmy Watermanthe Second Officer. I" "Second Officer?" I interrupted. "That's the radio operator, I take it?" "No, Jimmy is a pilot. We've three pilots -we don't carry a radio operator." "You don't" I broke off my surprised question, asked another instead. "Who's the man in the crew rest room? Navigator?" "We don't carry a navigator either. Harry Williamson iswas -the Flight Engineer." No wireless operator, no navigator. There had been changes indeed since I'd flown the Atlantic some years previously in a Stratocruiser. I gave it up, returned to my original question and nodded at the smashed RCA. "Well, how did it happen?" "I brushed the table as I rose andwell, it just fell." Her voice trailed off uncertainly. "It just fell," I echoed incredulously. "One hundred and fifty pounds of transmitter and you flicked it off the table just like that?" "I didn't knock it off. The legs collapsed." "It's got no legs to collapse," I said shortly. "Hinges." "Well,

Which thought that steel both trusty was and true

be as suspicious as hell. This'li be no kid-glove, hands-in-the pockets inspection. They'll be armed to the teeth and hunting trouble. There's going to be no half-measures. Let's be quite clear about that. Either they go under or we do: we can't possibly survive an inspectionnot with all the gear we've got aboard. And," he added softly, "we're not going to dump that gear." Rapidly he explained his plans. Stevens, leaning out from the wheelhouse window, felt the old sick ache in his stomach, felt the blood leaving his face. He was glad of the protection of the wheelhouse that bid the lower part of his body: that old familiar tremor in his leg was back again. Even his voice was unsteady. "But, sirsir" "Yes, yes, what is it, Stevens?" Even in his hurry Mallory paused at the sight of the pale, set face, the bloodless nails clenched over the sill of the window. "Youyou can't do that, sir!" The voice burred harshly under the sharp edge of strain. For a moment his mouth worked soundlessly, then he rushed on. "It's massacre, sir, it'sit's just murder!" "Shut up, kid!" Miller growled. "That'll do, Corporal!" Mallory said sharply. He looked at the American for a long moment, then turned to Stevens, his eyes cold. "Lieutenant, the whole concept of directing a successful war is aimed at placing your enemy at a disadvantage, at not giving him an even chance. We kill them or they kill us. They go under or we doand a thousand men on Kheros. It's just as simple as that, Lieutenant. It's not even a question of conscience." For several seconds Stevens stared at Mallory in complete silence. He was vaguely aware that everyone was looking at him. In that instant he hated Mallory, could have killed him. He hated him because-suddenly he was aware that he hated him only for the remorseless logic of what he said. He stared down at his clenched hands. Mallory, the idol of every young mountaineer and cragsman in pre-war England, whose fantastic climbing exploits had made world headlines, in '38 and '39: Mallory, who had twice been baulked by the most atrocious ill-fortune from surprising Rommel in his desert headquarters: Mallory, who had three times refused promotion in order to stay with his beloved Cretans who worshipped him the other side of idolatry. Confusedly these thoughts tumbled through his mind and he looked up slowly, looked at the lean, sunburnt face, the sensitive, teach children about digital cameras chiselled mouth, the heavy, dark eyebrows barstraight over the lined brown eyes that could be so cold or so compassionate, and suddenly he felt ashamed, knew that Captain Mallory lay beyond both his understanding and his judgment. "I am very sorry, sir." He smiled faintly. "As Corporal Miller would say, I was talking out of turn." He looked aft at the caique arrowing up from the southeast. Again he felt the sick fear, but his voice was steady enough as he spoke. "I won't let you down, sir." "Good enough. I never thought you would." Mallory smiled in turn, looked at Miller and Brown. "Get the stuff ready and lay it out, will you? Casual, easy and keep it hidden. They'll have the glasses on you." He turned away, walked for'ard. Andrea followed him. "You were very hard on the young man." It was neither criticism nor reproachmerely statement of fact. "I know." Mallory shrugged. "I didn't like it either. . . . I had to do it." "I think you had," Andrea said slowly. "Yes, I think you had. But it was hard. . . . Do you think they'll use the big gun in the bows to stop us?" "Mightthey haven't turned back after us unless they're pretty sure we're up to something fishy. But the warning shot across the bowsthey don't go in for that Captain Teach stuff normally." Andrea wrinkled his brows. "Captain Teach?" "Never mind." Mallory smiled. "Time we were taking up position now. Remember, wait for me. You won't have any trouble in hearing my signal," he finished dryly. The creaming bow-wave died away to a gentle ripple, the throb of the heavy diesel muted to a distant murmur as the German boat slid alongside, barely six feet away. From where he sat on a fish-box on the port- of the fo'c'sle, industriously sewing a button on to the old coat lying on the deck between his legs, Mallory could see six men, all dressed in the uniform of the regular German Navyone crouched behind a belted Spandau mounted on its tripod just aft of the two-pounder, three others bunched amidships, each armed with an automatic machine carbineSchmeissers, he thoughtthe captain, a hard, cold-faced young lieutenant with the Iron Cross on his tunic, looking out the open door of the wheelhouse and, finally, a curious head peering over the edge of the engine-room hatch. From where he sat, Mallory

Robin Hood hee took up his noble bow,

corner nodules. Well, I dont want someone distracting me while Im doing this. Your repairs can wait. We certainly are not damaging anything! No, of course not, Guildmember. Then leave it for now. She waved him off, bending back to the tedious cleaning before he had left. Perfect pitch is not the only talent required to sing crystal. Larss comment startled Killashandra as she finally stood erect, arching her back against tight muscles. His expression was a mixture of respect and something else. A crystal singer has total concentration and an absence of normal human requirements such as hunger! Killashandra twisted her wrist to look at the chrono and chuckled, leaning against the unit behind her. It was mid-afternoon and they had been working steadily since nine that morning. You should have given me a nudge. Several, Lars said dryly. I only mention it now because youre looking a bit white under your tan. Here. He thrust a heatpak at her. I do not have your dedication so I sent for food. Without authorization? Killashandra broke the seal on the soup, aware that she was very hungry indeed. I took a hint from your manner and pretended they had no option but obedience. He shook his head. Are all crystal singers like you? Im pretty mild, she said, sipping carefully at the now heated soup. Lars passed her a plate of small sandwiches and crackers. I only act the maggot when circumstances require. Especially with this lot of idiots. She lifted and rotated one shoulder to ease back muscles. Lars came to her side, pushing her away from her perch, and began to massage her back. His fingers unerringly found the tension knot, and she murmured her gratitude. I hate this part of working in crystal so Id rather get it over and done with as fast as possible. How crucial is the clean sweep? Killashandra sang a soft note and the crystal shards answered in a nerve-twitching dissonance. Lars shook convulsively at the sound which, in spite of being soft, took time to die away. Wow! White crystal is active, picks up any sound. Leave so much as the minutest particle of crystal dust and itll jam the manual and produce all kinds of subharmonics in the logic translator. Itd really be easier to start with a brand new manual case but I doubt theyd have spare parts. Which reminds me the ten brackets that cannon 790 power shot digital camera Ive cleared are all spoiled. She picked one up, turning the clamping surface so that the scratches picked up the light. Tighten one of these on a new crystal and youd create uneven stresses through the long axis of the crystal, introducing spurious piezoelectric effects and probably a flaw in next to no time. Lars took the bracket from her, hefting it in his hand. Theyre no problem. Olver can do them. Instinctively Killashandra looked up at the monitors as Lars mentioned his contact. She dragged at the fabric of Larss sleeve and pointed to the surveillance buds, where traces of black had mysteriously appeared to make an aureole about each unit. Now what did that? Killashandra chuckled and pointed to the white crystal. A secret weapon for you when I leave. Sing white crystal to whatever room youre in and blast the monitors. She reached for one of the larger pieces Lars had cleared away and hefted it. Well just save some of this for you. I wonder if Research and Development know about this application of white. Suddenly Lars had his arms about her, his face buried in her hair, his lips against her neck. She could feel the tension in him and caressed him with gentle hands. Oh, Sunny, must you leave? She gave him a twisted, rueful smile, gentling the frown from his face with tender fingers Crystal calls me back, Lars Dahl. Its not a summons I can ignore, and live! He kissed her hungrily and as she responded they both caught the slight sound, swiveling away from each other, as the door slid open. Ah, Elder Ampris, Killashandra said, your arrival is most opportune. Show him the bracket, Lars Dahl, and when Ampris regarded this unusual offering with amazement, run your fingers over the clamping edge carefully and feel how rough it is. Were going to need some two hundred of these, for Im not about to trust new crystal in old brackets. All Ive removed so far have been scratched just like that one. Will you authorize the order and designate it is urgent? Killashandra snapped her mask back over her face and picked up the brush. Then she swore. I could also use a handlight of some sort. Some of this wretched stuff is like powder. Elder Ampris peered in and she heard his intake of breath. She straightened, regarding him passively, seeing the stern accusation in his eyes. Let me demonstrate, Elder Ampris, the need for meticulous

Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.

indirectly, with the world and the civilisation that lay so unimaginably beyond our horizonsbut it wasn't going to help either the plane or myself if I got my feet frozen again. I lay back and stared up through our two plate glass skylights: but as always they were completely opaque, covered with a thick coating of rime and dusting of snow. I looked away from the skylights across to where Joss, our young Cockney radioman, was stirring uneasily in his sleep, then back to Jackstraw. "Still hear it?" "Getting louder all the time, Dr Mason. Louder and closer." I wondered vaguelyvaguely and a trifle irritably, for this was our world, a tightly-knit, compact little world, and visitors weren't welcomewhat plane it could be. A met. plane from Thule, possibly. Possibly, but unlikely: Thule was all of six hundred miles away, and our own weather reports went there three times a day. Or perhaps a Strategic Air Command bomber testing out the DEW-linethe Americans' distant early warning radar systemor even some civilian proving flight on a new trans-polar route. Or maybe some base plane from down by Godthaab. "Dr Mason!" Jackstraw's voice was quick, urgent. "It's in trouble, I think. It's circling uslower and closer all the time. A big plane, I'm sure: many motors." "Damn!" I said feelingly. I reached out for the silk gloves that always hung at night above my head, pulled them on, unzipped my sleeping-bag, swore under my breath as the freezing air struck at my shivering skin, and grabbed for my clothes. Half an hour only since I had put them off, but already they were stiff, awkward to handle and abominably coldit was a rare day indeed when the temperature inside the cabin rose above freezing point. But I had them onlong underwear, woollen shirt, breeches, silk-lined woollen parka, two pairs of socks and my felt cabin shoesin thirty seconds flat. In latitude 72.40 north, 8000 feet up on the Greenland ice-cap, self-preservation makes for a remarkable turn of speed. I crossed the cabin to where no more than a nose showed through a tiny gap in a sleeping-bag. "Wake up, Joss." I shook him until he reached out a hand and pushed the hood off his dark tousled head. "Wake up, boy. It looks as if we might need you." "Whatwhat's the trouble?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared up at the chronometer above his head. "Midnight! I've been asleep only half an hour." "I know. Sorry. But get a move on." I recrossed the cabin, passed by the big RCA 805 digital camera fujifilm transmitter and stove, and halted in front of the instrument table. The register showed the wind ENE, velocity 15 knotsnear enough 17 miles per hour, on a night like this, with the ice-crystals and drift lifting off the ice-cap, clogging and slowing up the anemometer cups, the true speed was probably half as much again. And the pen of the alcohol thermograph was running evenly along the red circle of 40 degrees below zero72 degrees of frost. I thought of the evil combination of these two factors of wind and cold and felt my skin crawl. Already Jackstraw was silently climbing into his furs. I did the samecaribou trousers and parka with reindeer fur trimmed hood, all beautifully tailored by Jackstraw's wifesealskin boots, woollen mittens and reindeer gloves. I could hear the plane quite clearly now, and so too, I could see, did Joss. The deep even throb of its motors was plain even above the frantic rattling of the anemometer cups. "It'sit's an aeroplane!" You could see that he was still trying to convince himself. "What did you think it wasone of your precious London double-deckers?" I slipped snow-mask and goggles round my neck and picked up a torch from the shelf beside the stove: it was kept there to keep the dry batteries from freezing. "Been circling for the past two or three minutes. Jackstraw thinks it's in trouble, and I agree." Joss listened. "Engines sound OK to me." "And to me. But engine failure is only one of a dozen possible reasons." "But why circle here?" "How the devil should I know? Probably because he can see our lightsthe only lights, at a guess, in 50,000 square miles. And if he has to put down, which God forbid, he stands his only chance of survival if he puts down near some human habitation." "Heaven help them," Joss said soberly. He added something else, but I didn't wait to hear. I wanted to get up top as quickly as possible. To leave our cabin, we had to use a trap-door, not an ordinary door. Our cabin, a prefabricated, sectioned structure that had been hauled up from the coast on tractor sleds during the month of July, was deep-sunk in a great oblong hole that had been gouged out from the surface of the ice-cap,

And jumps from stock to stone;

was supposed to match the trimness of their appearancethen she rushed on wildly. "Howhow can it be? We were on a Gander-Reykjavik flight. Greenlandwe don't go anywhere near it. And there's the automatic pilot, and radio beams andand radio base checks every half-hour. Oh, it's impossible, it's impossible! Why do you tell us this?" She was shaking now, whether from nervous strain or cold I had no idea: the big young man with the Ivy League accent put an arm awkwardly round her shoulder, and I saw her wince. Something indeed seemed to be hurting herbut again it could wait. "Joss," I called. He looked up from the stove, where he was pouring coffee into mugs. "Tell our friends where we are." "Latitude 72.40 north, longitude 40.10 east," Joss said unemotionally. His voice cut clearly through the hubbub of incredulous conversation. "Three hundred miles from the nearest human habitation. Four hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle. Near enough 800 miles from Reykjavik, 1000 from Cape Farewell, the southernmost point of Greenland, and just a little further distant from the North Pole. And if anyone doesn't believe us, sir, I suggest they just take a walkin any directionand they'll find out who's right." Joss's calm, matter-of-fact statement was worth half an hour of argument and explanation. In a moment, conviction was completeand there were more problems than ever to be answered. I held up my hand in mock protest and protection against the waves of questions that surged against me from every side. "All in good time, pleasealthough I don't really know anything more than yourselveswith the exception, perhaps, of one thing. But first, coffee and brandy all round." "Brandy?" The expensive young woman had been the first, I'd noticed, to appropriate one of the empty wooden cases that Jackstraw had brought in in lieu of seats, and now she looked up under the curve of exquisitely modelled eyebrows. "Are you sure that's wise?" The tone of her voice left little room for doubt as to her opinion. "Of course." I forced myself to be civil: bickering could reach intolerable proportions in a rigidly closed, mutually interdependent group such as we were likely to be for some time to come. "Why ever not?" "Opens the pores, dear man," she said sweetly. "I thought everyone knew thathow dangerous it is when you're exposed to cold afterwards. Or had you forgotten? Our cases, our night things in the planesomebody has to get these." "Don't talk such utter rubbish." My short-lived attempt at civility perished miserably. "Nobody's leaving here review digital cameras iso 1600 tonight. You sleep in your clothesthis isn't the Dorchester. If the blizzard dies down, we may try to get your things tomorrow morning." "But" "If you're all that desperate, you're welcome to get them yourself. Want to try?" It was boorish of me, but that was the effect she had. I turned away to see the minister or priest hold up his hand against the offered brandy. "Go on, take it," I said impatiently. "I don't really think I should." The voice was high-pitched, but the enunciation clear and precise, and I found it vaguely irritating that it should so perfectly match his appearance, be so exactly what I should have expected. He laughed, a nervous deprecating laugh. "My parishioners, you know . . . " I was tired, worried and felt like telling him what he could do with his parishioners, but it wasn't his fault. "There's precedent in plenty in your Bible, Reverend. You know that better than I. It'll do you good, really." "Oh well, if you think so." He took the glass gingerly, as if Beelzebub himself were on the offering end, but I noticed that there was nothing so hesitant about his method and speed of disposal of the contents: his subsequent expression could properly be described as beatific. I caught Marie LeGarde's eye, and smiled at the twinkle I caught there. The reverend wasn't the only one who found the coffeeand brandywelcome. With the exception of the stewardess, who sipped at her drink in a distraught fashion, the others had also emptied their glasses, and I decided that the broaching of another MarteU's was justified. In the respite from the talk, I bent over the injured man on the floor. His pulse was slower, steadier and his breathing not quite so shallow: I slipped in a few more heat pads and zipped up the sleeping-bag. "Is heis he any better, do you think?" The stewardess was so close to me that I brushed against her as I straightened. "Hehe seems a bit better, doesn't he?" "He is a bit, I think. But nothing like over the shock from the wound and the exposure, though." I looked at her speculatively and suddenly felt almost sorry for her. Almost, but not quite: I didn't at all like the direction my thoughts were leading me. "You've flown together quite a bit, haven't you?" "Yes." She didn't offer anything more. "His headdo you think" "Later. Let me have a quick look at that