Quoth bold Robim Hood, and sturdily stood,

long hours in the cruel jolting discomfort of the tractor cabin. As she passed by Smallwood she stumbled, he put up an arm either to help her or ward her off, and before he had realised what was happeningit must have been the last quarter from which he expected any show of violence or resistanceshe kicked out blindly and knocked the gun spinning out of his hand to land in the snow beneath. Smallwood sprang after it like a catthe speed was unnecessary, the low growl of warning from an armed Corazzini put paid to any ideas we might have had of taking advantage of the situationpicked up the gun and whirled round, the gun lining up on Helene, his eyes narrowed to slits against the beam of the searchlight, his face twisted into an unrecognisable snarl, the lips drawn far back over the teeth. I'd been wrong once more about Smallwoodhe could kill without reason. "Helene!" Mrs Dansby-Gregg was the nearest to her, and her voice was high-pitched, almost a scream. "Look out, Helene!" She plunged forward to push her maid to one side, but I don't think Smallwood even saw her: he was mad with fury, I knew he was, and nothing on earth was going to stop him from pressing that trigger. The bullet caught Mrs Dansby-Gregg squarely in the back and pitched her headlong to fall face down in the frozen snow. Already Smallwood's moment of uncontrollable rage was spent as if it had never been. He said not another word, just nodded to Corazzini and jumped up on to the tail of the tractor cabin to keep us covered with searchlight and gun as Corazzini gunned the motor, engaged gear and lumbered off into the darkness to the west. We stood in a forlorn huddled little group and watched the train pass us by, the tractor, the tractor sled, the dog sledge and finally the huskies themselves, running on the loose traces astern. I heard Helene murmur something to herself, and when I bent to listen she was saying in a strange, wondering voice: "Helene. She called me 'Helene'." I stared at her as if she were mad, glanced down at the dead woman at my feet then gazed unseeingly after the receding lights of the Citroen until both the lights and the sound had faded and vanished into the snow-filled darkness of the night. CHAPTER ELEVENFriday 6 P.M.Saturday 12.15 P.M. The white hell of that night, the agony of the bitter dreadful hours that followedand God only knows how many hours these were -is a memory that will never die. How many hours did we stagger and lurch after that tractor like drunk or dying sticker wizard digital camera reviews mensix hours, eight, ten? We didn't know, we shall never know. Time as an independent system of measurement ceased to exist: each second was an interminable unit of suffering, of freezing, of exhausted marching, each minute an son where the fire in our aching leg muscles fought with the ice-cold misery of hands and feet and faces for domination in our minds, each hour an eternity which we knew could never end. Not one of us, I am sure, expected to live through that night. The thoughts, the emotions of these hours I could never afterwards recall. Chagrin there was, the most bitter I have ever known, an overwhelming mortification and self-condemnation that I had all along been deceived with such childish ease, that I had been powerless to offer any hindrance or resistance to the endless resourcefulness of that brilliant little man. And then I would think of Mrs Dansby-Gregg, and of Margaret bound and hostage and afraid and looking at Smallwood in the dim light of that lurching tractor cabin, looking at Smallwood and the gun in Smallwood's hand, and with that thought anger would flood in to supplant the chagrin, a consuming hatred and a fury that flamed throughout my entire being, but even that anger wasn't all exclusive: it couldn't be, not so long as fear, a fear such as I had never before known, was the dominating factor in my mind. And it was. It was, too, I should think, in Zagero's mind. He hadn't spoken a word since Mrs Dansby-Gregg had died, had just flung himself uncaringly, ruthlessly, into what had to be done. Head bowed, he plodded on like an automaton. I wondered how many times he must have regretted that impetuous slip of the tongue when he had betrayed to Smallwood the fact that Solly Levin was his father. And Jackstraw was as silent as we were, non-committal, speaking only when he had to, keeping his thoughts strictly to himself. I wondered if he was blaming me for what had happened but I didn't think so, Jackstraw's mind just didn't work that way. I could guess what he was thinking, I knew the explosive temper that slumbered under that placid exterior. Had we met an unarmed Smallwood and Corazzini then, I do not think we would have stopped short of killing him with our hands. I suppose, too, that we were all three of us exhausted as we had never been before, frost-bitten, bleeding, thirsty and steadily weakening from lack of food. I say 'suppose', because logic and reason tell me that these things

She could not's face behold.

it's horrible. Whatwhat was that?" Her voice finished on a sharp high note. "What was what?" I tried to speak calmly, but that didn't stop me from glancing around nervously. Maybe she was right, maybe I was as scared as she was. "A noise outside." Her voice was a whisper and her fingers were digging deep into the fur of my parka. "Like someone tapping the wing or the fuselage." "Nonsense." My voice was rough, but I was on razor-edge. "You're beginning to" I stopped in mid-sentence. This time I could have sworn I had heard something, and it was plain that Margaret Ross had too. She twisted her head over her shoulder, looking in the direction of the noise, then slowly turned back to me, her face tense, her eyes wide and staring. I pushed her hands away, reached for gun and torch, jumped up and started running. In the control cabin I checked abruptly -God, what a fool I'd been to leave that searchlight burning and lined up on the windscreens, blinding me with its glare, making me a perfect target for anyone crouching outside with a gun in handbut the hesitation was momentary only. It was then or neverI could be trapped in there all night, or until the searchlight battery died. I dived head first through the windscreen, caught a pillar at the very last moment and was lying flat on the ground below in less time than I would have believed possible. I waited five seconds, just listening, but all I could hear was the moan of the wind, the hiss of the ice spicules rustling along over the frozen snowI'd never before heard that hissing so plainly, but then I'd never before lain with my uncovered ear on the ice-cap itselfand the thudding of my heart. And then I was on my feet, the probing torch cutting a bright swathe in the darkness before me as I ran round the plane, slipping and stumbling in my haste. Twice I made the circuit, the second time in the opposite direction, but there was no one there at all. I stopped before the control cabin and called softly to Margaret Ross. She appeared at the window, and I said: "It's all right, there's no one here. We've both been imagining things. Come on down." I reached up my hands, caught her and lowered her to the ground. "Why did you leave me up there, why did you leave me up there?" The words came rushing out, tumbling frantically one over the other, the anger drowned in the terror. "It wasit was horrible! The dead man. . . . Why did you leave me?" "I'm sorry." There was a time and a place for comment on feminine injustice, unreasonableness and cannon a460 digital camera downright illogicality, but this wasn't it. In the way of grief and heartbreak, shock and ill-treatment, she had already had far more than she could stand. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I shouldn't have done it. I just didn't stop to think." She was trembling violently, so I put my arms round her and held her tightly until she had calmed down, took the searchlight and battery in one hand and her hand in my other and we walked back to the cabin together. CHAPTER SIXMonday 7 P.M.Tuesday 7 A.M. Jackstraw and the others had just completed the assembly of the tractor body when we arrived back at the cabin, and some of the men were already going below. I didn't bother to check the tractor: when Jackstraw made anything, he made a perfect job of it. I knew he must have missed me in the past hour, but I knew, too, that he wasn't the man to question me while the others were around. I waited till the last of these had gone below, then took him by the arm and walked out into the darkness, far enough to talk in complete privacy, but not so far as to lose sight of the yellow glow from our skylightstwice lost in the one night was twice too many. He heard me out in silence, and at the end he said: "What are we going to do, Dr Mason?" "Depends. Spoken to Joss recently?" "Fifteen minutes ago. In the tunnel." "How about the radio?" "I'm afraid not, Dr Mason. He's missing some condensers and spare valves. He's looked for them, everywheresays they've been stolen." "Maybe they'll turn up?" I didn't believe it myself. "Two of the valves already have. Crushed little bits of glass lying in the bottom of the snow tunnel." "Our little friends think of everything.1'! swore softly. "That settles it, Jackstraw. We can't wait any longer, we'll leave as soon as possible. But first a night's sleepthat we must have." "Uplavnik?" That was our expedition base, near the mouth of the Stromsund glacier. "Do you think we will ever get there?" He wasn't thinking, just as I wasn't, about the rigours and dangers of arctic winter travel, daunting enough though these were when they had to be faced with a superannuated tractor like the Citroen, but of the company we would be

One, two! One, two! And through, and through

lesser orders have dutifully taken their sip and sup and toddled back to the comfort of their routines. He spoke with neither scorn nor malice: Ampris was stating a fact about the majority of the assembled. Having had their rare treats of standing in the same room with a real live breathing Crystal Singer? You are that! Ampriss gaze returned hers with no trace of guile or evasion but he had a definite twinkle in his eye. Three minutes after you reached the infirmary, the news of your regenerative powers had seeped to the basements. Surely you are not housed in a basement? Ampriss bright brown eyes twinkled again. The seat of all knowledge So you can get to the bottom of things? Of course. And a position of maximum security? Killashandra taunted him. Why shouldnt she start at the top with her covert inquiries? Security is never a problem on such a well-ordered world as Optheria. He inclined his head to acknowledge the passing of three of the dignitaries circulating the gathering. Everyone is secure he paused on Optheria, each knowing his place and his duties. Security is the foundation of the serenity of spirit which typifies this natural world. Killashandra could find no mockery in his words nor any special inflection in his voice. No sparkle of amusement lit his eye, no cynical expression molded his face, yet Killashandra heard the denial as clearly as if he had phrased it. Someone must have had a momentarily troubled spirit to launch that little star-knife at me. An island weapon, Ampris said. We allowed that settlement too much leeway during the early years on Optheria. Its original colonists were, naturally, of our mind, but before we could reestablish contact with them, they had deviated from the original intent. Optheria was to be an autonomous world: not to consist of autonomous groups. Ampriss humorless voice and manner implied the treatment which had undoubtedly been meted out to the dissenters. The matter of that outrageous attack on your person will be resolved, I can assure you, Guildmember Killashandra. I dont doubt that for a moment. Ampris searched her face. On an ordered planet, the unusual is always remarkable. Ampris, you may not monopolize our distinguished visitor, said a deep grating voice and Killashandra turned digital camera remote operation to find herself scrutinized by one of the other male Elders. He had the eyes of a scavenger, bright, dark, piercing. His thin, hooked nose did much to encourage the analogy. His skin had a curious lacquered look, crinkling at the edges of his face from whatever minor shift of expression he permitted. His glance dropped briefly to her left shoulder, as if his gaze could penetrate the silk and examine the healing wound beneath. Monopoly has never been my passion, Torkes, Ampris said. My associate, Torkes, holds the Communications Seat on Optheria. We work closely together in our adjacent disciplines. He maintains that Music is dependent on Communications, and I, of course, take the position that Music is independent and without it, Communications would have nothing to disseminate! But of course! Killashandra mustered a broad and giddy smile with which she favored both men impartially. Ampris accepted her evasion with a slight smile while Torkes bowed as if her ambiguous reply awarded him the decision. What sort of crystal network does your facility use, Elder Torkes? Crystal? Torkess piercing stare was affronted. We have no funds to waste on that sort of technology. Crystal is reserved for musicians! Really? And Killashandra caught the barest glimpse of the satisfied reaction from Ampris. Torkes seemed totally oblivious to the implication of his statement. Even when crystal is a very natural Crystal is not natural to Optheria. Not a native product, you understand. And we must maintain the integrity of our Charter. Indeed? Do you not violate that integrity by using alien instrumentation? Torkes dismissed her argument with a flick of his bony fingers. Music is an art form which we were able to bring with us, within the mind. It is intangible And what is communication, then? Can it be touched? Smelt? Tasted? Torkes stared at her so fiercely that Killashandra was made aware of the fact that not only had she dared to interrupt an Elder but she had argued with him. She sensed rather than saw Ampriss intense amusement then, in the blink of his eyes, when Torkes was faced with the unpalatable realization that a Heptite Guild-member, an invited specialist urgently required by his planet, held equal status with himself. Of course, Ampris said, breaking the heavy silence that ensued, the organ was developed by an Optherian for Optherian purposes and is, in fact,

Said the mouse to the cur,

deal more so," his father said. "So I made him a proposition. I'd give him two yearsit seemed enough, he was already amateur heavyweight championto prove himself, and at the end of that time if he hadn't made it he was to take his place in the factory. His first manager was as corrupt as they come and Johnny literally kicked him out at the end of a year. So I took over. I'd newly retired, I'd time on my hands, I'd a very strong vested interest in his well-being apart from the fact that he was my sonand, quite frankly, I'd begun to see that he really was going to get to the very top." He broke off thereso I took the opportunity to interrupt. "Zagero or Levin. Which is it?" "Zagero," the elder man answered. "Why the Levin?" "Some state and national boxing commissions refuse to permit a close relative to be either manager or second. Especially second. So I used an alias. A practice by no means uncommon, and officially winked at. A harmless deception." "Not so harmless," I said grimly. "It was one of the worst acting performances I've ever seen, and that was one of the primary reasons for my suspecting your son and, in turn, for Corazzini and Smallwood getting away with what they did. Had you come clean earlier on, I would have known that they were bound, even in the absence of all possible evidence, to be the guilty men. But with Solly LevinI'll find it very difficult to think of you as Mr Zagero, I'm afraidwith Solly Levin sticking out like a sore thumb as an obvious phonywell, I just couldn't leave you two out of the list of suspects." "I obviously modelled myself on the wrong personor type of person," Levin said wryly. "Johnny ribbed me about it all the time. I'm deeply sorry for any trouble we may have caused, Or Mason. I honestly never looked at it from your point of view, never realised the dangers involved in maintaining the impersonationif you could call it that. Please forgive me." "Nothing to forgive," I said bitterly. "A hundred to one I'd have found some other way of messing things up." Shortly after five o'clock in the evening Corazzini stopped the tractorbut he didn't stop the engine. He came down from the driver's seat and walked round to the cabin, pushing the searchlight slightly to one side. He had to shout to make himself heard above the roar of the tractor and the high ululating whine of the digital camera software downloads still-strengthening blizzard. "Half-way, boss. Thirty-two miles on the clock." "Thank you." We couldn't see Smallwood, but we could see the tip of his gun barrel protruding menacingly into the searchlight's beam. "The end of the line, Dr Mason. You and your friends will please get down." There was nothing else for it. Stiffly, numbly, I climbed down, took a couple of steps towards Smallwood, stopped as the pistol steadied unwaveringly on my chest. "You'll be with your friends in a few hours," I told Smallwood. "You could leave us a little food, a portable stove and tent. Is that too much to ask?" "It is." "Nothing? Nothing at all?" "You're wasting your time, Dr Mason. And it grieves me to see you reduced to begging." "The dog sledge, then. We don't even want the dogs. But neither Mahler nor Miss LeGarde can walk." "You're wasting your time." He turned his attention to the sledge. "Everybody off, I said. Did you hear me, Levin? Get down!" "It's my legs." In the harsh glare of the searchlight we could see the lines of pain deep-etched round Levin's eyes and mouth, and I wondered how long he had been sitting there suffering, saying nothing. "I think they're frozen or sleeping or something." "Get down!" Smallwood repeated sharply. "In a moment." Levin swung one of his legs over the edge of the sledge, his teeth bared with the effort. "I don't seem to be able" "Maybe a bullet in one of your legs will help," Smallwood said unemotionally. "To get the feeling back." I didn't know whether he meant it or not. I didn't think so -gratuitous violence wasn't in character for this man, I couldn't see him killing or wounding without sound reason. But Zagero thought differently. He advanced within six feet of Smallwood. "Don't touch him, Smallwood," he said warningly. "No?" The rising inflection was a challenge accepted, and Smallwood went on flatly: "I'd snuff you and him like a candle." "No!" Zagero said, softly and savagely, the words carrying clearly in a sudden lull in the wind. "Lay a finger on my old man, Smallwood, and I'll get you and break your neck like a rotten carrot if you empty the entire magazine into me." I looked at him as he crouched

The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,

half-centimeter gradients. Lanzecki had asked her a question. Would Optheria be far enough? The words, remembered in his deep voice, sprang to mind. She grinned with tremendous relief at retrieving that question and turned to the viewscreen to punch up his code. Killa? Lanzeckis hands were poised over his own terminal, surprise manifested by his raised eyebrows. You havent used the catering unit. He frowned. Oh, programmed to monitor that, did you? she replied with a genuine smile at that reminder of their amorous alliance before her first trip into the Ranges. On her return from the Trundomoux System, they had had only a few days together before Lanzecki was swamped with work and she had to venture back into the Ranges. Since then, she had returned to the Complex only to replenish supplies or wait out a storm. Their reunions had consequently been brief. It was reassuring to realize that he wished to know when she was back. It seemed the ideal way to make contact. After thirty-two hours in a tank, you should be ravenous. Ill just join you, if I may When she nodded assent, he typed a quick message on his console and pushed his chair back, smiling up at her. Im hungry, too. As further reassurance of her unimpaired memory. Killashandra had no trouble remembering Lanzeckis tastes. She grinned as she ordered Yarran beer. Though her stomach gurgled impatiently, shed had no desire for food in so long that she was as glad to be guided by Lanzeckis preferences. She was just slipping a brilliantly striped robe over her head when her door chimed an entry request. Enter! she called. On the same voice cue, the catering slot disgorged her order. The aroma of the dishes aroused her already voracious appetite. She wasted no time in taking the steaming platters from the dispenser, grinning a welcome at Lanzecki as he joined her. The Commissary has asked me to relay a few well-chosen words of complaint about the sudden fad for Yarran beer, he said, taking the pitcher and the beakers to the table. He seated himself before filling the two glasses. To your restoration! Lanzecki lifted his glass in toast, his expression obliquely chiding her for that necessity. Antonas already scolded me, but I had to cut enough marketable crystal to get off-planet this time. Youve certainly succeeded with that white. Dont I remember you saying something about Optheria just as I passed out? Lanzecki hp 727 digital camera $159.99 took a swallow of the Yarran beer before he replied. Quite likely. He served himself a generous helping of fried Malva beans. Dont the Optherians utilize white crystal in that multi-sense organ of theirs? They do. So Lanzecki chose to be uncommunicative. Well, she could be persistent. Enthor said that an entire manual was fractured. Lanzecki nodded. She continued. And you did ask me would Optheria be far enough? I did? You know you did. Killashandra hung on to her patience. You never forget anything. And the impression I got from your cryptic comment was that someone, and the inference was me she pressed her thumb into her chest would have to go there. Am I correct? He regarded her steadily, his expression unreadable. Not long ago you gave me to understand that you would not undertake another off-world assignment That was before Id been stuck on this fardling planet She noticed the wicked gleam in his eyes. So, Im right. A crystal singer does have to make the installation! It was a shocking incident, Lanzecki said diffidently as he served himself more Malva beans. The performer who damaged the organ was killed by the flying shards. He was also the only person on the planet who could handle such a major repair. As is so often the case with such sensitive and expensive equipment, it is a matter of planetary urgency to repair the instrument. Its the largest on the planet and is essential to the observances of Optherias prestigious Summer Festival. We are contracted to supply technicians as well as crystal. He paused for a mouthful of the crisp white beans. He was definitely baiting her, Killashandra knew. She held her tongue. While the list of those qualified does include your name The catch cant be the crystal this time, she said as he purposefully let his sentence dangle unfinished. She watched his face for any reaction. White crystals active, reflecting sound Among other things, Lanzecki added when she paused. If it isnt the crystal, whats the matter with the Optherians, then? My dear Killashandra, the assignment has not yet been awarded. Awarded? I like the sound of that. Or do I? I wouldnt put it past you,

Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold,

Mallory watched Andrea's forearms slipping nervelessly down the shoulders of the supporting guards till his wrists rested loosely beside their necks, palms facing inwards. And then there was the sudden leap of the great shoulder muscles and Mallory had hurled himself convulsively sidewards and back, his shoulder socketing with vicious force into the guard's stomach, inches below the breast-bone: an explosive ouf! of agony, the crash against the wooden walls of the room and Mallory knew the guard would be out of action for some time to come. Even as he dived, Mallory had heard the sickening thud of heads being swept together. Now, as he twisted round on his side, he had a fleeting glimpse of another guard thrashing feebly on the floor under the combined weights of Miller and Brown, and then of Andrea tearing an automatic rifle from the guard who had been standing at his right shoulder: the Schmeisser was cradled in his great hands, lined up on Skoda's chest even before the unconscious man had hit the floor. For one second, maybe two, all movement in the room ceased, every sound sheared off by a knife edge: the silence was abrupt, absolute-and infinitely more clamorous than the clamour that had gone before. No one moved, no one spoke, no one even breathed: the shock, the utter unexpectedness of what had happened held them all in thrall. And then the silence erupted in a staccato crashing of sound, deafening in that confined space. Once, twice, three times, wordlessly, and with great care, Andrea shot Hauptmann Skoda through the heart. The blast of the shells lifted the little man off his feet, smashed him against the wall of the hut, pinned him there for one incredible second, arms outfiung as though nailed against the rough planks in spreadeagle crucifixion; and then he eollapsed, fell limply to the ground, a grotesque and broken doll that struck its heedless head against the edge of the bench before coming to rest on its back on the floor. The eyes were still wide open, as cold, as dark, as empty in death as they had been in life. His Schmeisser waving in a gentle arc that covered Turzig and the sergeant, Andrea picked up Skoda's sheath knife, sliced through the ropes that bound Mallory's wrists. "Can you hold this gun, my Captain?" Mallory flexed his stiffened hands once or twice, nodded, took the gun in silence. In three steps Andrea was behind the blind side of the door leading to the anteroom, pressed to the wall, waiting, gesturing to Mallory to move 1991 dycam digital camera price as far back as possible out of the line of sight. Suddenly the door was flung open. Andrea could just see the tip of the rifle barrel projecting beyond it. "Oberleutnant Turzig! Was ist los? Wer schoss . . ." The voice broke off in a coughing grunt of agony as Andrea smashed the sole of his foot against the door. He was round the outside of the door in a moment, caught the man as he fell, pulled him clear of the doorway and peered into the adjacent hut. A brief inspection, then he closed the door, bolted it from the inside. "Nobody else there, my Captain," Andrea reported. "Just the one gaoler, it seems." "Fine! Cut the others loose, will you, Andrea?" He wheeled round towards Louki, smiled at the comical expression on the little man's face, the tentative, spreading, finally ear-to-ear grin that cut through the baffled incredulity. "Where do the men sleep, Loukithe soldiers, I mean?" "In a hut in the middle of the compound, Major. This is the officers' quarters." "Compound? You mean?" "Barbed wire," Louki said succinctly. "Ten feet highand all the way round." "Exits?" "One and one only. Two guards." "Good! Andreaeverybody into the side room. No, not you, Lieutenant. You sit down here." He gestured to the chair behind the big desk. "Somebody's bound to come. Tell him you killed one of ustrying to escape. Then send for the guards at the gate." For a moment Turzig didn't answer. He watched unseeingly as Andrea walked past him, dragging two unconscious soldiers by their collars. Then he smiled. It was a wry sort of smile. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Captain Mallory. Too much has been lost already through my blind stupidity. I won't do it." "Andrea!" Mallory called softly. "Yes?" Andrea stood in the anteroom doorway. "I think I hear someone coming. Is there a way out of that side room?" Andrea nodded silently. "Outside! The front door. Take your knife. If the Lieutenant. . ." But he was talking to himself. Andrea was already gone, slipping out through the back door, soundless as a ghost. "You

Ye 're dearly welcome to me;

Hauness, and the others could travel so far, so could the Elders, especially if they wanted to implicate islanders. Or was that just talk? If, as Lars had admitted, Torkes had set him up to assault her in order to verify her identity and was using that assault now to implicate the islanders, would it not be logical to assume that some foray into the islands would be made by officialdom? If only to preserve their fiction? Killashandra closed her mouth on this theory for she had gleaned it from information she had overhead surreptitiously. Well, shed find a way to warn Lars, for she had a sudden premonition that a warning was in order. From what she had seen of the Elders, reapplying to the Guild would be a humiliating embarrassment to their sort of bureaucracy. Unless and Killashandra smiled to herself they took the line that Killashandra Ree had not arrived as scheduled. How tidy it could be made, the Elders able to suppress any reference to the reception in her honor. However, Lanzecki would know that she had gone, and know, too, that she would not have evaded the responsibility she had accepted. And there would be computer evidence of her arrival even the Elders would have a hard time suppressing that sort of trail mark. Not to mention her use of the credit outlet on Angel. This could be very interesting! She must have dozed off, for the couch had been comfortable, the days unusual exercise exhausting, and watching the weather screen soporific. It was the lack of storm noise that woke her. And a curious singing in her body which was her symbionts reaction to drastic weather changes. A quick glance at the screen showed her that the eye of the storm was presently over Angel Island. She rubbed at her arms and legs, sure that the vibration she felt might be discernible. However, Nahia had curled up on the end of the long couch, Hauness, one arm across her shoulders, was also asleep, head back against the cushions. Theach was still diddling, but Erutown and Lars were absent. She heard voices and steps on the circular stair and made a dash for the toilet. She distinguished Larss distinctive laugh, a bass rumble from his father, and a grunt that could be Erutown, and some other voices. Until the eye had passed and the 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, true digital monochrome camera 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 much damage? Many injuries? Sufficient. The hurricane was unseasonably early and caught some communities unprepared. Olav is preparing emergency schedules for us. Us?

Till envy, with malignant grasp,

really shouldnt be wandering about the ship at this hour. Someone might get the wrong impression about you. As Killashandra permitted him to escort her back, she wondered why he was rushing her out of the gym. She felt she had deftly accounted for her presence. And naively accepted his explanation. Safely returned to her cabin, she agreed to meet him as usual for breakfast the next morning, and dutifully went to bed. Waiting for sleep, she reflected on his extraordinary fitness and the stealth in which he kept it. Could Corish possibly be an FSP agent? It struck her as unlikely that the Federation would choose to send only one observer an inexperienced one at that into a planetary society that was being investigated. She chuckled to think that, out of the eighteen hundred passengers and crew on the Athena, Corish should attach himself to her. Of course, in her eager-student guise, she might constitute an integral part of his shipboard cover. Unless he had been advised of her extra assignment by his superiors. If he was a Federal agent, he would also know the capabilities of crystal singers, and the subtler ways to identify them. No matter! In her concentrated efforts to recall her days as an impecunious and ardent music student, she had been able to shelve the more recent, painful episode. Seriously now, Killashandra considered Antonas advice to record incidents in detail. Who knew when she might find it necessary to adopt the role of the student again? Chapter 4 As the Athena plunged toward the Optherian primary for the deflected hyperbolic pass that would bring it close to the one inhabited planet of the system, the passengers who were disembarking went through the rituals of leave-taking from their shipboard acquaintances. That strange magic of voyaging which could make total strangers into confidantes and lovers had lost none of its potency in the space age. As they waited in the airlock for the shuttle that would take them to the surface, Killashandra found herself prattling on at Corish about how they must meet and share their adventures: that they couldnt part and never meet again while they were on the same planet. Shed want to know how hed made out with his uncle and she hoped shed be able to tell him of her success, invading the Optherian musical hierarchy. Of course that sort of chatter was in character with her role. What astonished Killashandra was that she meant what she said. Thats very sweet of you, Killa, sony 8mm cd for digital camera Corish replied, patting her shoulder in a condescending fashion that returned her instantly to her own personality. If I dont get a place at the Music Center hostel, Ill go to the Piper Facility, she said, ducking away from his hand as she fumbled with the fastening on the side pocket of her carisak. She tendered the small plastic card distributed by the Facility with its communit codes. The Optherian Travelers Guide says theyll take messages for visitors. You could leave word for me there. She smiled up at him with tremulous wistfulness. I know that once we leave Optheria, well never meet again, Corish, but at least while were still on the same planet, I was hoping we could stay friends. She broke off, ducking her head and dabbing at her eyes which, on cue, had filled with moisture. She let him have just a confirming glimpse of her teary face, although why she was prolonging their association, she hadnt a notion. One can get too wrapped up in role-playing. I promise you, Killa, that Ill leave word at the Piper for you. And Corish put a finger under her chin and lifted her head to his gaze. He had a rather engaging half-smile, she thought, though it wasnt a patch on Lanzeckis. She managed to squeeze out a few more tears on the strength of that comparison. No need for tears, Killa. Just then the shuttle clanged against the Athenas side and conversation became impossible with the noise of lock engagement and the excited crescendo of farewells. Then crewmen were officiously directing passengers to move to the port side of the lock. Killashandra was crammed rather tightly between two large men and separated from Corish by another sideways push. Whats the delay? one of her cushions demanded. Theyre loading some crates, was the indignant reply. Must be something special. Therere seals and impregtape all over them. I shall complain to the Cruise Agent. I was under the impression that people got preference over commodities on this Line! As suddenly as it had begun, the press eased off and everyone was shuffling toward the ramp into the shuttle. Killashandra didnt see Corish among the passengers already seated but she couldnt fail to miss three large foam boxes that contained the white crystal, for they occupied the first three rows of seats on the shuttles starboard side. They must be immensely valuable, the first cushion-man said. Whatever could it be? Optherians dont import

And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en:

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 Wi'ae lock o' his gowden hair 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

That's not able to draw one string."

eyes. For almost ten seconds he stared into the New Zealander's averted, screwed-up face, then slowly lowered his arm, the harsh spotlight limning a dazzling white circle in the snow at his feet. Once, twice, half a dozen times Turzig nodded his head in slow understanding. "Of course!" he murmured. "MalloryKeith Mallory! Of course I know him. There's not a man in my Abteilung but has heard of Keith Mallory." He shook his head. "I should have known him, I should have known him at once." He stood for some time with his head bent, aimlessly screwing the toe of his right boot into the soft snow, then looked up abruptly. "Before the war, even during it, I would have been proud to have known you, glad to have met you. But not here, not now. Not any more. I wish to God they had sent someone else." He hesitated, made to carry on, then changed his mind, turned wearily to Andrea. "My apologies, fat one. Indeed you speak the truth. Go on." "Certainly!" Andrea's round moon face was one vast smirk of satisfaction. "We climbed the cliff, as I said although the boy in the cave there was badly hurtand silenced the guard. Mallory killed him," Andrea added unblushingly. "It was fair fight. We spent most of the night crossing the divide and found this cave before dawn. We were almost dead with hunger and cold. We have been here since." "And nothing has happened since?" "On the contrary." Andrea seemed to be enjoying himself hugely, revelling in being the focus of attention. "Two people came up to see us. Who they were I do not knowthey kept their faces hidden all the timenor do I know where they came from." "It is as well that you admitted that," Turzig said grimly. "I knew someone had been here. I recognised the stoveit belongs to Hauptmann Skoda!" "Indeed?" Andrea raised his eyebrows in polite surprise. "I did not know. Well, they talked for some time and" "Did you manage to overhear anything they were talking about?" Turzig interrupted. The question came so naturally, so spontaneously, that Mallory held his breath. It was beautifully done. Andrea would walk into ithe couldn't help it. But Andrea was a man inspired that night. "Overhear them!" Andrea clamped his lips shut in sorely-tried forbearance, gazed heavenwards in exasperated appeal. "Lieutenant Turzig, how often must I tell you that I am the interpreter? They could only talk through me. Of course I know what they were talking about. They are going to blow up the big guns in the harbour." "I didn't think they had sony digital camera touchscreen come here for their health!" Turzig said acidly. "Ah, but you don't know that they have the plans of the fortress. You don't know that Kheros is to be invaded on Saturday morning. You don't know that they are in radio contact with Cairo all the time. You don't know that destroyers of the British Navy are coming through the Maidos Straits on Friday night as soon as the big guns have been silenced. You don't know" "Enough!" Turzig clapped his hands together, his face alight with excitement. "The Royal Navy, eh? Wonderful, wonderful! That is what we want to hear. But enough! Keep it for Hauptmann Skoda and the Commandant in the fortress. We must be off. But firstone more thing. The explosiveswhere are they?" Andrea's shoulders slumped in dejection. He spread out his arms, palms upward. "Alas, Lieutenant Turzig, I do not know. They took them out and hid themsome talk about the cave being too hot." He waved a hand towards the western col, in the diametrically opposite direction to Leri's hut. "That way, I think. But I cannot be sure, for they would not tell me." He looked bitterly at Mallory. "These Britishens are all the same. They trust nobody." "Heaven only knows that I don't blame them for that!" Turzig said feelingly. He looked at Andrea in disgust. "More than ever I would like to see you dangling from the highest scaffold in Navarone. But Herr Kommandant in the town is a kindly man and rewards informers. You may yet live to betray some more comrades." "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I knew you were fair and just. I promise you, Lieutenant Turzig" "Shut up!" Turzig said contemptuously. He switched into German. "Sergeant, have these men bound. And don't forget the fat one! Later we can untie him, and he can carry the sick man to the post. Leave a man on guard. The rest of you come with mewe must find those explosives." "Could we not make one of them tell us, sir?" the sergeant ventured. "The only man who would tell us can't. He's already told us all he knows. As for the restwell, I was mistaken about them, Sergeant." He turned to Mallory, inclined his head briefly, spoke in English. "An error of judgment, Herr Mallory. We are all very tired. I am almost sorry I struck you." He wheeled abruptly, climbed swiftly up the bank. Two minutes later only a solitary soldier was left on guard. For the tenth time Mallory shifted his position uncomfortably,

And now, for thy sake, a staff will I take,

didnt Corish recognize you on the beach? The same reason you didnt. And he didnt know me all that well, she added, a bit amused by Larss reaction. He rather obviously, at least to me, cultivated the company of an innocuous and silly young music student. And one or two other anomalies alerted me. Id encountered a few of those creatures recently myself, Lars remarked in a reproving drawl. I did the best I could with the background material I had. Lars pulled her as close to him as the tiller allowed. Your only mistake, now that I think back on it, were your comments about singing. Everyone in the islands sings. But voice is not an instrument for real music according to the Masters. Killashandra began to sputter indignantly. That in itself proves how stupid they all are! Lars laughed in delight at her reaction and then drew his feet up as the water began slopping up their calves. Tanny! he shouted. On the deck, on the double. The hatch was opened so quickly in response to his call that Killashandra wondered how long the young man had had his ear to the wooden panels. Havent you found us something to eat yet? About time. For Tanny held up two heavy soup mugs. Give it over and start bailing. Chapter 15 It took quite a bit of persuading on Killashandras part to reassure Tanny that she intended no reprisals against him for his very minor part in her abduction. Lars explained that he had managed to sneak her on board the ocean jet with the help of another friend who merely thought Larss latest girl friend had had a shade too much new brew. One for the girls, are you, mbucko? Killashandra had asked in an arch tone. Lars nodded at her garland. Not any more, Sunny! Ive made an honest woman of you! That exchange did more to reassure Tanny than any other argument Killashandra had presented. That and the fact that she was perfectly willing to help bail out the cockpit. Bar Island was reached just before sunset, with enough time to unload the emergency supplies. The Bar Islanders had been directly in the hurricanes path and suffered more damage than any of the other islands on their sweep. Two men, a woman and a young child had internal injuries which the medical facilities of the smaller settlement could not treat adequately. Lars immediately offered them passage on the Pearl Fisher, giving Killashandra a guarded and rueful grin polaroid 5 mp digital camera pdc5070bd of regret. Nor did they have a chance to be private that night. Everyone pitched in to finish constructing temporary communal shelters, and Killashandra found herself once again plaiting polly fronds, pleased that her deftness caused no questions. When a halt was called at midnight, Killashandra was far too tired to do more than curl up gratefully against Lars on the sand, her head pillowed on his arm, and fall asleep. At first light of a sullen day, the injured were floated on bladder rafts to the Pearl, carefully hoisted aboard, then secured in the cabin bunks. Killashandra was given instructions by the medic for the administration of necessary drugs and care. The patients had been sedated for the voyage, so he expected no problems. As soon as she could, Killashandra went up on deck. She found care of the sick and injured a distasteful necessity and the faint odor of antiseptics and medicine made her slightly nauseous. She said nothing about her disinclination, uncharacteristically wanting to sustain Larss good opinion of her. He was bent over the chart display on the small navigational terminal, plotting the most direct course for Angel Islands North Harbor where the main medical facility was situated. Tide and wind are in our favor this morning, Killa, he said, reaching his arm about her waist and drawing her in to him without taking his eyes from the display. He tapped for an overlay of the route he had chosen and she could see how it made use of the swift channels between the islands and the fuller morning tide. Well be in North before we know it. He made a final correction and laid in the course. Now the display cleared to show him the compass headings and the minimum required tacking to slip into the swift current just beyond Bar Islands western reef. Is the spinnaker set, Tanny? Aye, aye skipper, the young man called from the bow as Killashandra watched the vivid red and orange sail bellying out briefly over the bowsprit before the wind caught it. Theres an exhilaration to sailing a fast, trim ship, with a following wind and a current to assist smooth passage. The Pearl slipped into the flow as effortlessly as a slide down a greased pole. The sea was almost calm, and gunmetal green-gray, not quite the same color as the gray sky. Lucky its today instead of yesterday, Killashandra said, settling herself in the cockpit beside Lars. He had the tiller on its upper setting so that he could see forward without

No more doth old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers,

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 Raise a flame in the breast for the war-laurell'd wreath; 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