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