McCaffrey, Anne.

Acorna's quest / Anne McCaffrey and Margaret Ball.


A short recounting of events that took place prior to the opening of this
book, events that are fully detailed in the novel Acorna, also by Anne
McCaffrey and Margaret Ball:

Three asteroid miners Calum Baird, Declan "Gill" and Ratif Nadezda were at the
beginning of one of their long collecting journeys when they discovered,
floating in space near the asteroid where they were working, a life-support
escape pod of unknown origin and its single, sleeping occupant. The occupant
was clearly humanoid yet not quite human; this was not as much of a problem
for the miners as the fact that they had suddenly been saddled with the care
of an infant-and a female one at that! Yet, having no desire to stop working a
profitable asteroid belt to bring the child back to their base, they had no
choice but to keep and care for her as best they could. In a few days, they
loved her as they would a child of thenown. Then the child's unusual qualities
became obvious-she could purify water and air, she learned with astonishing
speed, and she matured even faster. Within the single year of their voyage she
grew as tall and mature as an adolescent human girl.

When they did finally have a large and valuable enough load to return to their
base, they found that MME had been taken over by a larger company, Amalgamated
Mining. This change in ownership, as well as Amalgamated s desire to assume
all control over the waif whom they had named Acorna, proved unacceptable to
the three miners. When they and their "ward" fled, officials at Amalgamated
pursued them with claims to ownership of the ship, which was the miners' only
means of livelihood-untrue claims which could nevertheless keep Gill, Rank,
and Calum tied up in Federation courts while their resources were drained by
legal expenses. In desperation the miners turned to Rank's remarkable

Uncle Hafiz, the wealthy and more than slightly shady owner of an interstellar
financial empire.

Hafiz arranged to swap the identifying beacon of their ship for one belonging
to a wrecked vessel with Kezdet registration. Although the miners were uneasy
about adopting the registration of a planetary system with which they had had
some difficulty in the past-a small matter of disputed mining claims-they had
no option but to accept the offer and pay part of the price Hafiz demanded-a
substantial percentage of their profits from the last mining journey. The rest
of his price, though, was unacceptable to them. A dedicated collector of
rarities and one-of-a-kind treasures, Hafiz was fascinated by Acorna's short
horn and delighted by her precocious ability to understand the numbers he
loved most-gambling odds. He demanded that the miners leave Acorna with him
and clearly planned to keep them prisoner until they complied. Rafik outwitted
his uncle in a series of clever maneuvers which freed them but left them on
the run from even more enemies than they had had before: not only the minions
of Amalgamated Mining, but also the Kezdet magnates who had caused the wreck
of the ship whose identity they had "borrowed." In addition, they had a third
enemy they did not even know about. Hafiz Harakamian was so impressed by the
way in which Rafik had outwitted him that he decided this nephew was quite
clever and crooked enough to be a worthy heir to the Harakamian financial
empire -in contrast to his worthless, bungling son, Tapha. Hearing about his
father's plans to disinherit him in favor of Rafik, Tapha decided that the
only way to keep his inheritance was to find his cousin and kill him.
After a precarious time spent moving from system to system, trying to sell off
their payload without being caught by any of their numerous pursuers, the
miners were finally captured by Pal Kendoro, a young man working for Delszaki
Li. Li had been a friend of the real owner of the ship whose identity they had
borrowed, and when his agents discovered the ship's beacon again in use they
assumed the miners had killed the owner and hijacked the ship.

Although based on Kezdet, Delszaki Li was no friend of the Kezdet government
and their quasi-military police, the so-called Guardians of the Peace. In
fact, he had quietly funded an organization which worked to subvert the ruling
class of Kezdet. The wealth of Kezdet s few was based on the sufferings of the
many; its low-tech mines and factories were served by unwanted children
brought from nearby systems and kept in bondage by a semilegal system which
treated them as debtors who must work off their debts. The factory owners saw
to it that the children's nominal wages were so low and the charges against
them for food and shelter so high that they never "worked off any debt, but
remained in perpetual bondage. Few survived to adulthood, and those who did
were so debilitated by years of poor food and crippling work that they had no
energy to challenge the system that had enslaved them.

Heir to a financial empire tnat rivaled that of Hafiz Harakamian, Delszaki Li
had first freed his own interests of any connection -with the Kezdet
child-labor system, then had begun working secretly to help the enslaved
children in any way he could. Although physically disabled by a wasting
neurological disease which had almost totally paralyzed him, he -was still
brilliant and wealthy and was able to recruit others to his cause-among them
Pal Kendoro and his two sisters, Mercy and Judit. The Kendoro siblings had
been among the orphans brought to Kezdet for slave labor, but Judit had
escaped by winning one of the scholarships established by Delszaki Li to
encourage education among the bonded children, and by hard work she had soon
earned enough to buy her young brother and sister free. Now grown, all three
were determined to take whatever risks were necessary to free the children who
remained in bondage.

Their attempts to effect peaceful change by educating the enslaved children
and helping them to demand better conditions were continually frustrated by
the wealthy class that controlled Kezdet s government, and by the time he
encountered Acoma, Delszaki Li was on the verge of despair. It seemed as
though nothing short of a revolution would free the children-and it would take
a miracle to overthrow the solidly entrenched government of Kezdet.

In Acorna, Delszaki Li thought that he recognized that miracle. Half-Chinese,
he saw in her a ki-lin-the legendary unicorn of China, whose appearance is an
omen of great and beneficent change. The fact that she came accompanied by
three asteroid miners only increased his belief that she was sent by the
heavens to bring good fortune to his enterprise, for it happened that he was
in particular need of such expertise as they might supply. Before he met
Acoma, Mr. Li had subtly acquired the mineral and mining nghts to Kezdets
three moons-Maganos, Saganos, and Tianos- seeing in them a possible place for
the children he wished to rescue from Kezdet s factories and mines. None of
the planetary mining companies wanted to bother with the problems of building
moon bases when it was so cheap to use child labor on ... or rather below .. .
the surface of the planet. But Li's plan was ambitious as well as altruistic.
He meant to use his great fortune to create mining bases on the three moons,
where the children he freed could work part-time and be schooled part-time.
With love and care and decent nourishment, upon reaching adulthood they should
be ready to take over the mining bases and make them truly self-sufficient.
But until he met the three asteroid miners and their "ward," the mysterious
unicorn girl, Acorna, Mr. Li's plans had moved so slowly that he despaired of
their coming to fruition in his lifetime. There were too many problems for one
man to overcome: the entrenched opposition of the wealthy families of Kezdet,
the bureaucratic obstacles which the Kezdet government threw in his path, and,
most of all, the fears of the children who had been taught from arrival on
Kezdet to flee strangers-even benevolent ones. When the factory owners would
not admit to employing children, and the children themselves had been trained
to hide, how could they be found and freed?

Once it was clear that Calum, Gill, and Rank had not caused harm to his
friend, but had merely exchanged identities with the wrecked and derelict
spacecraft in an effort to evade their own pursuers, Li recruited them as his
allies and offered to adopt Acorna as his own ward. Recognizing that the child
they had raised was now maturing to the point where she needed a permanent
home and an education in the ways of "normal"-i.e., planetside-civilization,
the miners agreed to help Mr. Li with his project. But when Acoma learned of
the plight of Kezdet s enslaved children, she precipitated a crisis that
affected all of Delszaki Li's slow and careful plans. Unable to wait and do
nothing where she saw obvious cases of need, she became entangled in any
number of projects that aroused the wrathful attention of Kezdet s ruling
class-rescuing one child from a brothel, another from begging on the streets,
giving shoes to the barefoot slaves of a glass factory and using her hom to
heal their wounds. The furor aroused by her actions forced the Child
Liberation League to forgo their years of patience and incremental
improvements in favor of a bold stroke for freedom.

While the miners worked desperately to get the first of the planned moon bases
in condition to receive children, and Delszaki Li fought Kezdet s bureaucracy
to get permission to open the base, Acoma solved the problem of finding and
freeing the children. They might have been taught to flee strangers, but the
mystical rumors which identified Acorna with the protective saints and
goddesses of the children's manifold belief systems ensured that she alone, of
all the beings on Kezdet, was accepted by all of them. Believing that the
silver-haired girl with the horn on her forehead was an earthly manifestation
of Lukia of the Lights, or Epona, or Sita Ram, at her call they came willingly
from mines and factories and followed her without fear. With the help of
Calum, Rafik, and Gill to implement plans for a working mining base on Maganos
Moon, and the sometimes overenthusiastic help of Acoma to reach out to the
neglected children of Kezdet, Delszaki Li had the immense gratification of
seeing his plan become a reality. He also saw that he had made many implacable
enemies among those formerly wealthy who were now, as a result of his
machinations, merely well-to-do. But it did not appear that this fact
disturbed him particularly.

By the time that Maganos Moon Base became a reality, the miners' lives as well
as Delszaki Li's had been changed-as much by Pal Kendoro's two sisters, Judit
and Mercy, as by the implementation of the moon-base plan. Gill and Judit
Kendoro had agreed to act as foster parents to the children brought to
Maganos. Rafik s cousin Tapha had died in an attempt to assassinate him, and
Rafik felt it was his responsibility to work with his uncle Hafiz and learn
the ins and outs of the Harakamian family businesses that he was now slated to
inherit. As for Calum, he was as taken with the shy, quiet Mercy as Gill was
with her more outgoing sister, but he felt that with the defection of his
comrades it was even more his responsibility to help Acorna in the search for
her home, especially as it was his mathematical analysis of the partial
results given them by Dr. Zip that had narrowed down the possible location of
her home planet to a searchable sector of space.

Even Acorna was not romantically untouched; Pal Kendoro had fallen in love
with her, and she was, like any young girl, flattered though distressed by his
devotion . . . but unlike most young girls, she had to wonder whether their
two species were even compatible ! In any case she felt that she could not
commit herself and her life to this young human while she still did not know
where, or even if, others like her might exist.

Where did she truly belong? And how much time did she have to find a suitable
mate? In the three years that had elapsed since the establishment of Maganos
Moon Base, she had matured from an adolescent into what appeared to be a fully
adult female other kind. Knowing nothing of her origins, she had no way to
guess whether

her body would stabilize or whether she would age and die as rapidly as she
had matured.

Although the search for her home world was of prime importance to Acoma and
almost as much to Calum, Acorna's other friends and guardians were reluctant
to see them start out on such a long and potentially perilous journey. They
had become used to protecting Acorna-not only from the enemies she and
Delszaki Li had made on Kezdet, but from the genuinely ill who wanted access
to her healing powers and the charlatans who thought to grow wealthy by
exploiting her unusual capabilities.

To protect her from wearing herself out in an attempt to heal everyone who
might approach her, they had grown into the habit of shielding her from the
world, screening her mail, and otherwise treating her as someone to be
sheltered and hidden. Sometimes it seemed that it would take another
revolution to free Acoma from her well-meaning friends, and as, Accrual Qiwf
begins, just such a revolution is about to take place. . . .


Maganos, Unified Federation. Date 33. 05.11

Acorna's office in the Dehoney facility Maganos Moon Base was far too full for
her ' comfort, and the meeting had been going on so long that she was
developing an alluring fantasy about escaping the comfort of the base for the
freedom of a good planetside gallop-any planet, anywhere, just so it offered
her clean firm earth to run on and a horizon very far away. The need for earth
and sky and open space was becoming almost an obsession for her as the meeting
dragged on -just as dreaming up all these new ways to stop her and Calum from
starting on their mission to find her species' home world had become an
obsession for Pal

She tried to compose herself, remembering that it was probably even worse for
Calum. He considered finding her home world his first duty to her, even before
his love for Mercy. The sooner Acorna could release Calum from that
self-imposed quest, the sooner he and Mercy could marry. Acorna understood why
some other friends were reluctant to see the Acad&cki depart. Gill and Judit
were happily settled now, overseeing the care and education of the
bondchildren still arriving to study and work at Maganos; and Rafik was
presumably satisfied with his new career as assistant and heir apparent to his
uncle Hafiz, the head of House Harakamian. But couldn't they see that Calum
needed to complete his quest for her home planet-and that she needed to find
her own people before she could be content anywhere?

Pal continued inexorably to read on from the notepad in his hand. "Supplies
and munitions are still not completed. But right now"-and he looked directly
at Acorna and then Calum, shaking his head sadly-"the worst problem is that of
reinstalling and testing the AcaSecki's defense system. My people estimate it
will take at least four weeks to be certain that the new defenses are
accurately installed this time."

"Wait a bleeding minute!" Calum jumped to his feet. He and Acorna exchanged a
glance that told her he felt sure this was yet another one of the many phony
little delaying tactics thought up by Pal in collaboration with his sister
Judit and Gill. Possibly even Delszaki Li had had a hand in this one; although
the AcaSecki had been supplied by Hafiz Harakamian, Mr. Li had offered to
finance its refitting to make it the perfect vessel for this long-distance
quest. Had that generous offer really been a sneaky way of seeing that
Delszaki Li retained control over the ship and could drag out the refitting
until they gave up the search?

Calufti shot a second, almost accusing glance at Mr. Li, who was floating
quietly in the chair which allowed him such mobility as his increasing
paralysis permitted. Some people had made the mistake-sometimes a fatal
mistake-of underestimating Delszaki Li because of his great age and the
debilitating neurological disease which had all but paralyzed him. Not Calum!
He was all too aware of the clear, penetrating mind encased in that ancient
body. Delszaki Li was a force to be reckoned with- benevolent, powerful,
astute, and, Calum thought wryly, about as straightforward as a spiral
staircase in an Escher print.

Calum knew that Mr. Li found it hard-deep in the heart which Acorna's beauty,
charm, bravery, and intelligence had thawed-to let her start out upon her
search. He did make every appearance of helping to secure her ambition of
finding her folk; but he was easily tempted into thinking up new ways to delay
her actual departure. And Pal Kendoro, his personal assistant, was not limited
by even the pretense of wanting to help Acorna on her quest! He considered
himself in love with Acorna, could not or would not see why she couldn't
settle down happily with him while remaining in ignorance about her own race,
and absolutely did not want her going off alone for months, possibly years,
with Calum. Neither of Pal's sisters could convince him that Calum Baird had
absolutely no interest in Acorna, apart from completing his self-imposed task
of finding her species.

Cal might seem totally immersed in technologies, improvements, designs, star
systems and analyses thereof, but he wasn't oblivious to Pal's obvious
jealousy, and he did his best to defuse situations which fed that unreasonable
attitude. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be better to openly declare his
love for Pal's youngest sister Mercy and his desire to marry her as soon as he
had completed this mission-though that would not be fair to Mercy; she should
not be tied down while he went away on a quest of unknown duration. But right
now, all Calum's good intentions of calm, rational behavior had gone out the
nearest air vent as, once again, Pal seemed to be sabotaging the start of
their voyage.

"If you think," Calum went on, his anger apparent in his acid tone of voice,
"that a lousy defence system is going to stall us another few months, you're
crazy. Crazy!" And he scissored his hands to emphasize his denial.

"Why we should require a defence system," Acorna jumped in to support him, "so
far beyond what was originally designed for that class of ship, I do not
know."

"Is not sensible to send you so far without every possible consideration taken
for your safe return," Mr. Li said,

"We have communications devices that can reach a habitable system soon enough
to summon help if the long-range missiles, the mines, the warheads, and the
laser cannon do not dissuade a pirate," Calum went on. He was seething with
resentment.

"First"-and Acorna held up one of her blunt, two-jointed digits - "what could
a ship the size of our scout possibly have that anyone would want?"

"You," Pal said in an unequivocal tone.

"Second," Acorna said, ignoring that, "the built-in weaponry already installed
allows us to defend ourselves against ships with three times our capability.
..."

"Not to mention our built-in speed," Calum interjected. "Why, that drive could
outstrip the fastest drone ever manufactured. And that's saying something." He
gave an extra nod in emphasis.

"Third, Uncle Hafiz has supplied us," Acorna continued, "with so many
identities and drive-variation signatures that anyone looking for us from one
port of call would never recognize our ship in the next one. And he has
already taken long enough to supply such multitudinous identities!"

"You, Acorna, are valuable for so many reasons and to so many people," Pal
said, his tone almost as angry as Calum s had been, "that of course House
Harakamian desired to support you with alternate documentation and
drive-emission camouflages."

"Nineteen of them? Requiring six months to develop? To be any safer, I would
have to be dead already!" Acorna said, unusually sarcastic for her
characteristically gentle self. "You can stay

here, safely, and let Calum find your folk," Pal said, desperation creeping
into his tone.

Acorna straightened her narrow shoulders, tossing the magnificent mane of
silvery hair behind her. "These are my people we are trying to find. How will
they know that Cal is on a genuine search unless I am with him to represent
myself? We know so little about my circumstances." She shook her head sadly.
Her brilliant silvery eyes filmed over, ever so slightly, with the melancholy
that was deepening within her daily, almost drowning her with an urgent need
to be resolved. Sometimes, at night,

she was nearly overwhelmed by the intensity other need to find her own kind.

"Why was my life pod   evacuated from the ship in   the first place? Who did it?
Enemy or friend? Why   was it done? To save me or   to destroy me without trace?
Why have no vestiges   of my kind been discovered   with all the explorations that
are being undertaken   in every direction of this   galaxy? "

"That's another point," Gill said, speaking for the first time and squeezing
Judit's hand in his big one. "You may not even come from this galaxy. The
search could take decades."

"Decades it could be," Delszaki Li said, sadly nodding.

"Oh, Mr. Li." Acorna leapt from the chair she was seated in and lowered his
float so she could take his almost useless right hand in hers and stroke it
lovingly. "I will not tarry a moment longer than necessary to hurry back to
Kezdet and you. You will receive a message the moment we have found my home
world."

"I know this, Acorna," Mr. Li said in a gentle, understanding voice. He nodded
as if he were patting her hand, an action he could no longer perform.

Acorna bent her head, touching his hand with her horn, wishing she had the
power to eradicate completely the wasting disease which slowly consumed him.
She could, and did, ease his discomfort. But she need not stay for that; there
were medicines which did as much as she could to alleviate his pain. And she
was more and more "urged" to begin the search. Before it was too late? The
phrase sprang into her mind. Startled, she looked up at Mr. Li's black eyes,
wondering if he had a vestige of telepathy. But she saw nothing other than his
real love and concern for her.

"Acorna, my love," thundered Declan Giloglie, "you're not going without the
best defenses we can fit you out with, and that's me final word on the
subject!"

Calum heaved a dramatic sigh. "I see there's no changing your minds."

Acorna glanced at Calum, aghast at this apparent collapse of resistance. The
side of his face that was turned toward her, away from the rest of the group,
flickered in what might have been a brief wink.

"I suppose you are right," she said, bo-wing gracefully toward Mr. Li. "Please
forgive me for causing you anxiety. It was indeed extremely selfish of me to
wish to find my own people before I die of advanced old age." She could not
restrain that comment, even though she recognized as she made it that her
words might destroy Calum's pretense at acquiescence ... if it was indeed
pretense?

"Women!" Calum said in a disgusted tone. "All sentiment, no logic. But I do
see the force of your arguments, and I'll explain it all to our pretty one
here until she understands."

"Oh, no, you won't," Pal said. "That's my job."

"Convince me later, Pal," Acorna said sweetly. "Right now- since we are all
agreed on the necessity for installing the revised defense systems-I wish to
go over some matters of the ship's living space with Calum. I am afraid we may
need to completely remodel a portion of the interior."

"By all means," said Delszaki Li, beaming in a way that reinforced Acorna s
belief that this talk of the new defense system

was just another taradiddle designed to delay her departure yet again.

"Make whatever changes you wish. My architect will accommodate. " Li bowed to
Acorna.

Once they were alone on the Aca()ecki, Calum looked at Acorna.

"You didn't really -want to redesign the living space again, I trust?"

"You don't really want to wait six more weeks, which ·will

probably turn into six months if Mr. Li and Pal can arrange it, before we take
off, do you?"

"No I" they both said in chorus.

"We're well enough supplied for the initial voyage right now," Calum said
thoughtfully.

"If something happened to distract the others for just a little while ..."
Acorna murmured.
On their return to the base, it seemed that distraction might just be at hand.
Pal and Gill were fuming out loud at one of the

corn techs, who had innocently sent the requested acknowledgment for delivery
of a message to Acorna.

"What is the problem with this?" Acorna asked. "It seems perfectly standard
behavior to me."

Gill gave her a disgusted glance. "For people who aren't celebrities, maybe.
For you-the acknowledgment tells whoeverthis-is that they have found your
Lattice node. Now you'll be inundated with junk mail and worse. Damn it,
people send these test messages out like confetti, hitting every node where
they think they might find their target, and I thought we had trained all the
corn techs never to acknowledge anonymous messages!"

Acorna put her hand on the techs shoulder. He was young enough to have been
trained at Maganos in the past two years, thin enough to have come from one of
Kezdet's factories before that, and he was shaking under her hand. She sent
soothing, calming impulses to the boy until she could feel that he was
steadier.

"If you upset the people who work here for no reason at all, Gill," she said,
"how can you expect them to remember your wishes? Do not worry," she said to
the tech, "it is a small matter, soon forgotten."

"That's what you think!" said Pal darkly.

Acorna shrugged. "I've never had an anonymous message before, so there is no
reason to suppose this one is the beginning of a flood."

"Never-had-" Gill plunged both hands into his curly red beard and tugged as if
he were trying to root it out. "Why, we must have bounced half a hundred of
these confetti jobs back in the last week alone!" He glared at the younger
man. "Didn't you tell her, Pal?"

"I didn't think," Pal said unhappily, "it would be a good idea to mention that
we were screening her mail. ..."

"You were WHAT?" Acorna demanded in outraged tones. "Gill, whatever gave you
the colossal gall to intercept my personal messages? And Pal, did you think
that because I hadn't absolutely rejected your declarations, you owned me and
my communications ? "

"See here, Acorna acushia," put in Gill, "you can't be talking to me that way,
me that bathed you when you were a baby and that's not so very long ago
neither!"

In a few short, scathing sentences Acorna demonstrated that she could and
would talk to Gill that way and worse. By the time she stalked away, Gill's
face was as red as his beard, and Pal later swore that he had seen small puffs
of steam coming out of the miner's ears.

"I knew it wasn't a good idea to tell her," Pal said.

Gill glared at him. "You could have explained why we had to doit!"

"Did you hear her give me a chance to get a word in edgewise?" he replied.
"Besides, you could have explained, too, and I didn't hear you saying
anything!"

Gill's deep laugh rumbled through the coin center, and he wiped his sweating
forehead. "You've a point there, young Pal. Tell you what, let's get a
printout of all the messages we've deleted in the past ten days or so. That'll
explain it to her without us having to get that word in past the young lady's
offended fury." ,

"Where'11 we send it? The mood she's in- "

"No matter what kind of a mood she's in," Gill said, "you can't stalk off very
far on a lunar mining base. And you should be able to guess as well as I where
she'll go to let off steam. Why don't you give your sister a call, let her
know what to expect?"

He leaned over the desk and began explaining to the corn tech exactly what
arcane procedures he'd have to follow in order to retrieve the massive amounts
of "junk mail" that he and Pal had deleted from Acorna's files before she ever
saw them.

"They treat me like an infant," Acorna declared, stalking around the circular
floor of the main dome in the living space Judit Kendoro shared with Gill. "I
am not to search for my own people ... I am not to read my own mail ... I will
not have it!" Her head came up, her nostrils flared, and the silvery mane that
cascaded down her back quivered with the force of her indignation.

"Of course you will not," Judit agreed, taking Acorna by the hand and leading
her to a comfortable couch designed with her equine proportions in mind, "but
perhaps you will have a cooling drink before you quite explode with
indignation? Iced kava, perhaps, or madigadijuice?"

"If you are trying to make me forget about it," Acorna said, seating herself,
"I should tell you that it will not work! I am no longer to be treated as an
ignorant child!"

"Of course you are not," said Judit Kendoro understandingly. "You have grown
up quite amazingly in the last two years. You never lose yourself galloping in
the park anymore, or get into fights with street vendors, or ..."

Laughing, Acorna stopped her. "Enough, please! I do not deny that I did some
very foolish things when I first came to live with Mr. Li-but remember that
nearly two years aboard a   mining ship is not much preparation for social
life on a planet! And I was much younger then."

"That's true," said Judit, "and Gill and Pal now realize that they were wrong
to screen your mail for you."

Acorna looked at her suspiciously, "Then why did they not say so? And how do
you know?"

"Did you give them a chance to apologize?" Judit asked. "Or did you just stalk
off in high dudgeon, 0 mature and sober woman of the world? Pal guessed where
you would go and called to tell me that he and Gill would be sending your
intercepted mail from the last ten days over as soon as it could be retrieved
and printed-and here it is now," she said as the delivery bell chimed to
signal arrival of a parcel.

And chimed.

And chimed.
And chimed. . . .

"Two dozen boxes!" Acorna exclaimed when the last of the boxes of printouts
had been dumped on Judit's floor. "Impossible! I do not know two dozen people
apart from the children, and most of those people I know are right here on
Maganos and would have no need to send me any mail. Gill is making a joke."

"Well, this one seems to be addressed to you," Judit said, picking a flimsy at
random from one of the boxes. "Don't you want to read it?"

"Let Karina, Psychic Healer, make your fortune?" Acorna read aloud. "What is
this about? I do not know any Karina, and if I did, why would I wish to join
in partnership with her to sell my healing abilities at so much for each
millisecond of time expended? It sounds like a most immoral notion to me!"

"It may not be the most immoral notion you come across today," Judit said
softly. "Read some more."

By the time Acorna had worked her way through half a box full of requests for
money, suggestions for a line of gilt plastiflex visors called "Acornas,"
offers of partnership, and demands that she submit herself to some research
institute or other for immediate examination, she began to understand why Gill
and Pal had been so protective.

Judit, for her part, silently blessed the men for leaving all the heartrending
pleas for help and healing at the bottom of the heaviest box, where with any
luck Acorna would never see them. She would never be able to resist those
cries for help . . . yet to heal even one percent of those who needed her
would so sap her, energy that she would be unable to do anything else. We
miutfim) a better eolation for her, thought Judit. We cannot go on hQing her
from the worl^-the war 13 L) catching up with her, aru) it will destroy her.

But, of course, Judit realized, with a catch in her breath and a queer ache in
her heart, the solution was there-had been there all along. If they hadn't
been interfering with Acorna's desire to go and find her people, she would
long since have left Maganos Moon Base to explore distant regions where even
junk mail had not yet penetrated. And now that one of these messages had been
acknowledged, whoever had sent it was sure to be on his or her way to Maganos
... to be followed by newscasters, charlatans, and the terminally ill. The
fiction that Acorna's healing abilities had faded as she matured would be
exploded the first time Acorna's soft heart was touched and she touched her
horn to an ill or injured person.

The only solution, after all, was for Acorna to leave Maganos before she was
tracked down here. And even if she never came back . . . she would come back.
Judit blinked away incipient tears and set about the task of persuading the
lost youngling of an alien species, whom she had come to love like a younger
sister, to leave immediately.

It was not, after all, much of a task. So, feeling as if she was doing
something heinous, she contacted Pal's missile-defense supplier and told him
that Mr. Li wished that the installation would take longer.

Mendaciously, she also told Pal that she had received a call to that effect:
there was some difficulty in supply. She told Calum, who exploded, and Acorna,
who gratified her by assuming the most rebellious expression ever seen on that
lovely, tranquil face. Judit decided that frustration would have the desired
result.
It did. Calum and Acorna made discreet plans, stowed the few items they wished
to take with them on this history-making voyage, and took off without waiting
for permission. The AcaSecki had been "ready" for all practical purposes for
weeks. The hydroponics tanks had even been replanted since the original plants
had gotten out of control in size or disuse, and some of Acorna's favorites
had gone to seed. The alfalfa had had to be harvested three times already and
was back to lawn height.

Since the Acaoecki had long been in one of the Dehoney takeoff bays, it had
been no trouble at all to board her. Nor had the Tower seen anything odd in a
request for her launch, since the Acaoecki was constantly being taken out for
trial runs on this, that, or the other new ramification to its engines, corn
units, whatever. Calum and Acorna were up, up, and away and into the
star-studded sky while those nearest and dearest to them slept.

Calum had spent the entire first few hours whistling happily or chortling at
having escaped so deviously. It eased Acorna's nagging conscience that he
evidently suffered from no guilt about their precipitous departure. She
herself still felt pangs of grief and guilt about sneaking away without a
proper farewell to Gill and Pal and Mr. Li-not to mention Rafik, who had been
away, as usual, on business for his uncle Hafiz. But she could not have said
good-bye without warning them . . . and it had seemed essential to take
advantage of Judit's offer to keep all three men busy and out of communication
until the AcaPecki was well clear of Maganos.

"Are you sure even Rafik won't be able to deduce our course, Calum?" Acorna
had asked when they were outside the heliopause of the Kezdetian primary.

"Not even Rafik, Acorna. He may be subtle in dealing with people, but I'm the
engineer and navigator," Calum said proudly.

"But they all know our destination: the Coma Berenices quadrant."

"Ah,"-Calum s smile was devious as he held up one finger-"there are nine and
sixty ways of getting there, and we're taking almost, but not quite, the most
illogical. I don't trust Rafik not to think of the most illogical, so I
plotted in the course he is least likely to suspect. Therefore, there is no
logical or illogical way for him to figure out what way we did go. See-here's
the space we're navigating in." He put his hands in a position to encircle a
globe, then drew out the left side.

"Milky Way," he explained, "then we are going down ..." He let his right hand
describe a direct downward line. "That is NOT the shortest distance to where
we want to be." And his right hand made his planned deviation. "Except that,
actually and spatially, it will be. But I don't have to make a course
cor<rection for a few days."

"Well, in that case ..." Acorna allowed herself to be reassured, at least that
they could not be followed and talked out of their project by Rafik's
eloquence. "I am surprised, now that we've been gone nine hours, that they
haven't discovered we've gone."

The corn unit bleeped. "You spoke too soon," Calum said. "Urgent you return to
Dehoney immediately. Ace-" Calum's hand disconnected the corn unit. "Well, I'm
surprised it took them so long."

"'Ace?'" Acorna asked, blinking a little anxiously. "Maybe we should at least
listen to the message? It sounded like Provola."

"So? They all know we respect Provola and might listen to her, where we've
given UP listening to them!" His tone was caustic.

"But she's never been an alarmist," Acorna responded, weighed down once again
-with guilt about their stealthy action.

Calum shrugged. Provola Quero was now in charge of the Saganos operation; she
couldn't have anything that urgent to say to them; she was probably just
relaying the expectable protests from Acorna's other "guardians."

"We can't swerve from this departure, Acorna, love, or they'll just find
another way of stopping us."

It was not until the third day out that their euphoria at escaping so neatly
received a slight check. Acorna had by then used up the greens and vegetables
that she had brought on board. She also needed to replenish Calum s supplies
from the storage area. She came rushing back into the main cabin.

"It's not there anymore," she cried, her silvery eyes wide with distress.
"What could have happened to it?"

Calum rose from the pilot s chair and took her by her slender arms, which were
far stronger than they looked. "Easy, girl, what's not where?" "My escape
pod."

"What? But it was there when I inspected the ship five days ago.

She followed him as he ran to where he knew, damned well certain he knew, that
the escape pod in which they had found her five years ago had been carefully
netted in. The net was still there, but the escape pod was not.

"Blast Pal and his retrofitting nonsense. It was there." He picked up a piece
of the netting as if by shaking it he could restore the missing escape pod.
"They must have removed it for safety before they started their damned defense
installations. The tubes would have had to be settled against the inner hull.
Damn!" And he forcefully threw the netting down again.

"Oh, well, it is not all that essential," she said, now taking the role of
comforter. "After all, there is no counterfeiting me," she said, giggling as
she swept her hand down her obviously alien length.

"Yes, but the glyphs . . . they might establish your lineage or rank or
something."

"We have holos of them in the files. For that matter, I can draw them quite
well, you know."

"Yes, petal, I know you can." Calum absently patted her arm. But he, too, was
shaken by the disappearance of the pod-not crucial in itself, but what else
might they have overlooked in their eagerness to get away?

The second shock to their seemingly smooth escape was the failure of the
legume crops to sprout any pods as they should have done by this point in
their growth, followed the next day by a decided yellowing in the stalks of
alfalfa. Acorna spent a good deal of time on the agri channel and the
microscope, trying to determine why that crop was failing.

"Somehow, the valve to the nutrient reservoir has been tampered with. Damn
it."

Her mild cussword surprised Calum enough, but the fact that she had not
spotted the problem earlier was even more unnerving to him. Acorna was usually
instantly aware of the slightest change in atmosphere or water.

"It's just fed the entire stock of trace elements into the water supply at
once-zinc sulfate, copper sulfate ... no wonder the chard looks so sick!"
Acorna sighed deeply.

"Something the matter with your famous nose?" Calum asked, since Acorna could
often just smell an imbalance.

"The ship has many new smells, most of them chemical. I guess I thought it was
just normal." She paused, thinking. "Maybe we should listen to Provola's
entire message. 'Ace* . . . where you shut her off, could have been the
beginning of 'accident' as well as the start of my name."

"So we will now dutifully listen." Calum keyed in the interrupted message.

Urgent you return to Dehoney. Supervisors report lists a. broken valve in the
hydroponics' unit, which was to have been repaired first thing this morning.
Only you left before they couQ repair It. There was a hint of humor in that
final sentence, and Acorna winced. Advise immediate return to effect such
minor repairs which cou0 totally Damage entire hydroponics ano grazings if not
maae. It won't take long.

The plea was unmistakable even in Provola's unmistakably prosaic tone.

"Now, now, petal," Calum reassured her. "At least it was a mistake."

"Like unloading my pod?" Acorna asked, then thinned her lips over her front
teeth.

"How bad is it?" Calum asked anxiously.

"Well, the chard could be toxic. The old, tough spinach leaves"-Acorna
wrinkled her nose-"should be okay since they were fully grown when we left,
and one vat of timothy was well grown before the trace-element dump, but the
rest I'm not sure about. I'll have to purify the rest of the 'ponies . . . and
the alfalfa will have to go; if it's picked up even a small percentage of that
zinc, I'll come out in spots."

"Now just a moment," Cal said soothingly, and twirled his chair around to the
astrogation-control panel. A flash of knowing fingers across the touch pads,
and he beamed. "We're not that far, spatially speaking, from Rushima. We can
stop there . . . two, three days. Basic agri world, colonized by the Shenjemi
Federation. It'll have everything we could possibly need."

"Well, I suppose I can exist on what's available," Acorna said with a sigh.
She swallowed hard and scratched a bit, thinking about how near she'd been to
chewing her way through her original notion of lunch-a long swath down the
alfalfa bed.

SI ~~ he unused 'ponies tank was cold and hard. The lightweight protective mat
that covered it and hid Markel also blocked the warmth of the sunlamps that
fed the plants in the working tanks with a steady diet of golden, artificially
balanced light. He had padded his sleeping place as best he could with
fragments of worn-out mats, but it was still so cold that he was unable to
take advantage of the space he'd exulted in when he found this hideout. He
slept, when he slept at all, curled around himself like a sprout coiled within
its pod, trying to hold on to the warmth of his own body. It was so dark and
cold under the mats . . . almost as cold as the empty space that surrounded
the Haven. . . . He was not, he told himself firmly, going to think about
that. He curled up, arms wrapped around his knees, and drifted off into an
uneasy doze. The hard white surface of the tank was soft, he was floating,
spinning, and the stars floated around his head. ... No, they didn't. If you
were spaced without protective suiting, your eyes and everything else
exploded, and you couldn't see anything!

Markel jerked awake, shivering. He wasn't going to think about his father,
Illart, floating forever in absolute cold and darkness, empty eyes gazing
unseeingly on the stars that he had loved. He wasn't going to think about
anything except the immediate practical problems of surviving another day on
the Haven without getting caught.

Huddled in another cramped position, he worried at the problem with his
conscious mind. A person could get warm enough in the heating vents that led
to the food center. He would try that in a little while, but he didn't dare
now; he was so tired, he might fall asleep in the vent and be scalded to death
when the steam blasted through to clean and sterilize it. He would have to
wait, and if he timed it right, he might be able to nip out of the vents and
steal some scraps of food from the recycling bins. His body needed protein to
supplement the fresh greens he stole from the working 'ponies tanks in tiny
nips and pinches.

And he needed to steal a blanket from somewhere. Due to recent events, there
should be enough to spare now . . . enough blankets and warm clothes for
anybody. He wondered if one of Nueva's lieutenants had moved into his family's
old quarters, or if he dared try and make it back there to get some of his
clothes. . . . No, not his clothes, that might make them suspicious. Illart's.
They knew his father was dead-everybody knew, had seen. . . .

Markel struggled soundlessly against the dream of space, the cold and the
brightness of distant suns and the pressure of his own blood exploding
outward; he snapped out of the nightmare once more and felt his heart thumping
in his chest. It had all happened so fast, almost as quickly as the dreams
that trapped him whenever he tried to sleep.

Only three, no, five shifts ago he had been safe in his own quarters, and the
only thing that worried him about the quarrel between Illart and Sengrat was
that Ximena would take her father's side. She'll never look. at me now, he had
thought-as though she had ever noticed him before! But he'd been a child then.
Five shifts ago. Or was it six? It seemed terribly important to remember.

Somebody had to remember. Somebody had to tell the truth, counteract the lies
they meant to spread about. . . about the ones who could not speak for
themselves anymore. The ones who would never be warm again.

The quarters Markel had shared with his father were spacious by Haven
standards, as befitted Illart's rank as one of the three Speakers of the
Council. Naturally there were separate sleep bunks for the two of them, with
their own carefully engineered storage areas for personal belongings; any
citizen among the Starfarers was entitled to that much space, and any working
citizen, or parent raising small children, was also allotted a private sitting
space and a desk console.

But nobody else Markel knew, even Third Speaker Andrezhuria, had a space so
large that all three Speakers could sit down at one time without even feeling
crowded. Where else, except in a public hall, could a person enjoy such
luxury? Market could never understand his father's wry comments about how his
rank in Council as First Speaker bought him almost enough room to swing a cat.
But then, Markel's only knowledge of cats came from the vids he called up on
his personal console, and he never had figured out why anybody would want to
swing one.

The Old-timer generation was full of quaint sayings like that, like their
insistence on calling a period of two and a half shifts a "day." Ximena said
it was better just to humor the old folks and not to demand explanations for
all their quaint old folk sayings.

Anyway, it wasn't the presence of the other two Speakers that had made the
sitting area so crowded that Markel had retreated to his sleep tube with his
personal console; it was Sengrat. Really, Markel thought, it was Sengrats
overinflated ego that seemed to fill up all the space and use up all the
oxygen. The man had a voice like a file going through sheet metal; once you
started letting it get to you, it could saw through earplugs and ruin your
enjoyment of a good classic music vid. Markel blinked twice to stop the vid.
No sense in letting his pleasure in the ancient music be ruined by irritation
at Sengrat. He would just wait until the visitors left.

Sengrat was always going on about something; it seemed he never agreed with
any of the Council decisions. And Illart said he wouldn't speak up during open
Council; he just sat there and simmered and waited to buttonhole one of the
Speakers in private, later, and tell them how wrong they were. Right now he
was disputing the decision to leave their present orbit as soon as the nav
officer on duty identified a good pattern for quadrant departure.

"We've done -what we came to Khang Kieaan for, Sengrat," Andrezhuria said
wearily. "We've presented our case, we have the promise of their support in
the next Federation meeting. ..."

Sengrat snorted. "'Presented our case,'" he mimicked Andrezhuna's precise,
cold tones. '"Zhuria, wake up and smell the kava! We've been presenting our
case for ten years now. All the moral support in the world won't make
Amalgamated Mining cede Esperantza back to us-and if they did, they couldn't
repair the damage they've already done to the planet. Its time to move on,
make a new life for ourselves."

"Are you saying we should have accepted Amalgamated s joke of a resettlement
offer?" Gerezan, Second Speaker, inquired. "A bit late to be arguing that,
don't you think?"

Markel could tell without looking that Sengrat would have flushed a deep
purple. His anger came out in the plummy resonance of his next words. "Don't
twist my words, Second! I'm not the one who's living in the past-you three,
and the Council members who follow you around like dullbots, are the ones who
do that. You're still talking as if we could get Esperantza back and settle to
dirt farming. I don't want to do that. I'm not even interested in that. Our
'case' against Amalgamated was settled in Federation court - "

"Unfairly," Andrezhuria cut in. "If we can get evidence of the bribes
Amalgamated paid out and the records they had doctored, we'll have grounds to
reopen it. And we will get it; the kids in my data study group are sharper
than any dirtside hackers, and they're getting through Amalgamated's data
firewalls one at a time. Until then, our mission is to keep the story of
Esperantza alive. Not to let anybody forget what an injustice was done, not to
let Amalgamated get away with it!"

"You're dead wrong, my dear 'Zhuria," Sengrat drawled. "Our mission is to
survive. Anything else comes second. And in the interests of survival, as
Chief Maintenance Officer, it is my duty to point out that the Haven is long
overdue for retrofit and replacement."
"Well, I hardly think we should request permission to dock on Khang Kieaan for
maintenance work," Illart said, chuckling. "Even if we could afford it, some
of the folks down there may just not feel too friendly toward us after the way
we took over their planetary communications system to state our case. Sure, we
got a lot of popular sympathy, but I bet the government's going to be
nervouser and nervouser the longer we hang around here. All three
governments," he corrected himself after a moment's mental review of Khang
Kieaan's troubled political situation.

"We don't need to request anything of Khang Kieaan," Sengrat snapped. "We had
their communications system under total control. That should have paid for all
the maintenance we need."

"Exactly how do you figure that?" Gerezan asked. "They weren't going to pay us
to run their planetary communications when they had a perfectly good working
system of their own."

"But they didn't, 'Zan," Sengrat purred. The rasping tone was gone from his
voice now, and Markel pulled the vid plugs out of his ears to hear better.
When Sengrat's voice softened, he was happy; when Sengrat was happy, there was
trouble coming.

Sengrat'd sounded just that way, smooth and velvety and jovial, when he told
Markel that Ximena was too old for him, and he didn't want any
good-for-nothing teenage kids hanging around his daughter.

"They didn't have a working system of their own," Sengrat went on, "not while
we'd intercepted all communications to make our own 'cast. With a little
diplomacy, we could have gotten a contract from the Night Sky Lightning party
granting them exclusive use ofplanetside communications . . . through us."

"You're talking about making them pay us to stop disrupting communications?
We're not racketeers," Illart said sharply.

"And just what do you think the Sun Behind Clouds and the Spring Rains parties
would have done about that deal?" Gerezan demanded.

"Nothing," Sengrat said simply. "I checked. Night Sky Lightning is the only
group with the technology to attack us in orbit; the other two parties are
exhausted from three generations of constant fighting. The NSL is the clear
technological leader; with a little help from us, they could control Khang
Kieaan now.

We'd be doing a public service, really. End the fighting now, instead of two
or three generations down the line. And ensure Haven's survival." He sounded
as though he was beaming, turning his face this way and that so that all three
Speakers could get the benefit of his confident looks.

"We don't interfere in other planets' internal affairs," Illart said. "In case
you've forgotten, that is part of the original charter agreed upon when we
decided to refuse Amalgamated's resettlement offer and live on our colony ship
until we got justice. We offer to all other peoples the respect and
noninterference we desired for ourselves. That is the way of the Starfarers."

"Your way, you mean," snapped Sengrat.

"The Council's way," Illart corrected him. "You wish to discuss changes in the
charter, Sengrat? If so, you should have convened a full Council meeting
instead of buttonholing the three of us privately. Nothing less can change the
original charter."

"Nothing is less likely to change it," Sengrat riposted. "I already know it's
no use going through the Council; they'll do whatever you three want. And
you're living in the past. I should warn you that not all the original
Starfarers see things your way. And the political refugees we've taken in from
other places- why should they care about a dead planet they've never seen?
People like Nueva Fallona aren't interested in being permanent refugees
crowded into a ship that's turning into a slum, Illart."

"If we hadn't taken in Nueva and the other refugees from Palomella, the ship
wouldn't be so crowded," Andrezhuria pointed out. "If it weren't for our
charter and our commitment to aid other victims of political injustice, she
wouldn't be here. Perhaps she should bear that in mind before agitating to
change the charter."

"She said you'd do that." The metallic rasp was back in Sengrat's voice.
"That's why I was chosen to .present the opposition point of view to you. The
Palomellese and other newcomers are underrepresented in Council - "

"That will change with time," Gerezan put in quietly. "They have the same
voting rights as any other Starfarers."

"Some of us," Sengrat said, "don't think we should wait any longer. Some
people don't see any point in trying to work hrough the Council; whoever s
elected, it's you three Speakers who run it, and Nueva was right-your minds
are stuck in the past. I'm looking toward a future in which the Starfarers are
truly free, not begging for favors from the Federation, but expanding in space
and answerable to no planetary bureaucrats. If you're wise, you three, you'll
join me. It's past time for some real changes around here."

"Always so pleasant chatting with you and hearing your views, Sengrat," Illart
said. "Are you sure you can't stay for kava? It's a new strain, compliments of
the genetic researchers from Sun Behind Clouds. They think we might actually
be able to get enough yields from this strain to justify raising our own kava
onboard. Of course they don't understand dark-roasting, so I'm afraid it's not
as strong as you like it, but there's a nutty flavor reminiscent of hazelnuts
that I personally find quite enticing.

Sengrat's rejoinder about frivolities and frippery was drowned out by the
crackle of the shipboard corn system. Sengrat wasn't all wrong, Markel
reflected as he stretched out in his tube and reached for the earplugs. Like
far too many systems on the Haven, the corn speakers desperately needed
upgrading and refurbishment. The Starfarers might have the scientific and
technical know-how to take over entire planetary systems and hack into
intergalactic corporate data bases, but their own equipment was held together
by duct tape and prayers. The speaker in Illart's quarters was so bad that
whole words and phrases were drowned out by static. All Markel could make out
was, "Kava shipment. . . message. . . . Xong . . . join. . . .

Oh, great, he thought. Another political refugee, sneaking a cry for help out
in the kava be-aiu. Ju^t what they neeoeS, one, more person on the overcrowded
Haven. Or maybe fourteen or fifteen more people, he reflected gloomily. These
Kieaanese ran to large families.

He had just inserted one earplug when his father's yell of excitement all but
pierced the other ear. "Xong who?"

"Not Hoo," the voice on the speaker crackled, "Hoa. Ngaen Xong Hoa."
Gerezan and Andrezhuria burst into excited babbling until Illart hushed them.
Whoever this Ngaen Xong Hoa might be, they seemed to think he would be worth
his space on the Haven. Markel put the vid system aside again and wriggled out
of his tube. Might as well find out what all the fuss was about. He would take
his vid off into one of the service tunnels later and enjoy it in peace and
quiet. The desire for privacy had long ago inspired Market to explore all the
nooks and crannies of the Haven -where a slender boy could fit unobserved. He
knew every supposedly unusable space where outmoded equipment had been yanked
out and sold for scrap, as well as the whole system of the narrow air vents
and the crawl spaces designed for access to the ship's electrical system.

The three Speakers were grinning and hugging one another when Market entered
the sitting area.

"Such a pity Sengrat didn't stay a little longer," Andrezhuria said happily.
"Then he could have heard the news ahead of everybody else!" She looked almost
as young as Ximena, flushed with excitement, curly tendrils of her blond hair
escaping from their severe braids to frame her face in light.

"Just as well," said Gerezan. "Why give him extra time to think about some way
to put Ngaen Xong Hoa's research to unethical uses?"

"Oh, come off it, Gerezan. Even Sengrat couldn't think of a way to misuse a
weather-prediction system!"

Illart cleared his throat. "I'm not so sure about that." He tapped the data
screen set into the wall behind Gerezan. "Here's the complete text of his
message."

Although still slender enough to fit into the air vents, Markel was already a
good head taller than Andrezhuria. He had no trouble seeing the screen over
her head. Ngaen Xong Hoa-and Markel still didn't know who he was-requested
political asylum on the Haven because he feared that one of the three
governments of Khang Kieaan would misuse the results of his latest research.

"Oh, he's just saying that to make sure we'll have him," Andrezhuria said
blithely. "And of course we will. If he's finished the model he was discussing
at the Chaos and Control Seminar, we should be able to sell it to agri planets
for enough to take care of all the Haven's maintenance problems forever!"

"Not sell," Gerezan said. "Rent. We keep control of the model."

"Are we counting our chickens before they're hatched?" Illart inquired dryly.
"We don't even know he's still working on the same thing. He may have given up
on the chaos-theory problem and turned to some other line of research
entirely."

In the brief silence that greeted this suggestion, Market finally got a word
in edgewise. "Who is this Ngaen Xong Hoa, anyway?"

Illart reached out to put an arm round his son's shoulders. "It's kind of hard
to explain if you don't remember living planetside," he said, "but... I guess
you'd call him a weatherman."

"And that's all he would say about it," Markel complained later to Johnny
Greene. Even if Johnny was of the same generation as his father, he wasn't as
stodgy as the original settlers. He'd only joined the Haven a few years
earlier, after a nearcalamitous escape from MME when Amalgamated had taken
over the large mining company and caused huge redundancies among the
specialists. In some ways Market found Johnny could bridge the gap between his
father's generation, who could remember digging and   growing things in dirt,
and the young people of his own generation, who had   been raised in space.
"What's a weatherman, anyway? I looked it up on the   ship's net, and all I
could find was some junk about solar winds. I don't   see how that's going to
make us rich!"

"Oh, that's space weather," Johnny Greene said. "Ngaen Xong Hoa's work is on
planetary weather systems, and he's the prime researcher in the field.
Although last I heard, even he hadn't solved the chaos aspects."

"Who cares about planetary weather?" Markel demanded. If dirtsiders didn't
like being rained on, why didn't they live in space like all sensible folk?

"Markel," Johnny said sharply, "stop pouting and use your brains! I know
you've got some, heard 'em rattling round in there just the other day. Turn on
a couple of processing bits, will you? Okay, so space colony ships like Haven
don't care about dirtside weather, neither do lunar colonies or high-tech
cities in domes. But there are still plenty of people out there who live by
growing food or raising animals on planetary surfaces, who have to guess right
about the upcoming weather if they and their children are going to eat next
year. Ninety percent of Khang Khieaan's habitable surface is good agricultural
land; naturally they care about knowing whether it's going to rain enough to
raise their crops ... or enough to drown them."

"Sounds like a simple enough question to me," said Market. "Just model the
atmosphere and the ground surface and plug in your numbers. Nothing like as
complicated as plotting a course through four-space to shortcut from one
quadrant to another without meeting a neutron star."

"You think so, do you?" said Johnny. "Well, here. I'll give you references to
the latest weather-modeling theories, and you can download a complete data set
on Khang Kieaan's current weather. We'll likely be here another two-three
shifts to collect Hoa, so you'll have plenty of time to predict . . . oh, the
rainfall over the Green Sea, and the expected high temperature in the central
plains area, that'll do for starters. Just take a look at the models, decide
which one works best, and . . . what was it you said? . . . plug in the
numbers. Then we'll see how close you came."

Markel hadn't come to Johnny for extra homework, but he'd learned that if he
did what Johnny Greene suggested, it usually worked out to his benefit in the
long run. Besides which, once Johnny had given him a learning assignment like
that he wouldn't talk to Market at all, not even to tell tales of mining
adventure among the asteroids, until Markel could show that he'd done the
work. So he copied the references over to his private storage files, set the
system to download Khang Kieaan's current weather data, and skimmed papers on
weather modeling while he waited for the data to come in.

He was waiting when Johnny came off duty two shifts later. "This stuff is
crazy," he complained. "Look, I programmed three different models-well, okay,
I didn't have to do them from scratch, most of the code was in files attached
to the papers -and fed in the same numbers, and look at the results! This one
says the Green Sea is going to get two inches of rain between dawn and noon
tomorrow, this one says thirty percent chance of typhoons and doesn't tell me
anything about rain, and this one"-he waved the printout for emphasis-"this
one only says, 'If a butterfly flutters its wings in the rain forest, what is
the probability of snow in Alaska?'"

Johnny laughed. "Okay. Welcome to chaos theory. That last one is telling you
it doesn't have enough data."
"I gave it the same data set the others had."

"It's more persnickety. The other two models are designed to give you their
best guesses regardless of how close on they are - sort of the way traditional
weathermen operate. This third one"-Johnny tapped the printout-"won't give a
prediction that can't be relied upon. And it just happens that planetary
weather is what we call a chaotic system-meaning that its adjacent solutions
diverge exponentially in time. Such a system is very sensitive to the initial
conditions, which means that a very slight change in the starting point-like
the fluttering of a butterfly's wing-can lead to enormously different
outcomes."

"Then this last model is a joke," Markel muttered.

"Nope. It's making a point: that none of the existing models is accurate. Did
you look at the author's name?"

"Ngaen Xong Hoa. That's the guy who's supposed to be delivered with the last
load of supplies from dirtside," Markel said before realizing that he probably
wasn't supposed to have read the memo detailing exactly how the Haven planned
to collect their scientist . . . even if there was nothing particularly new
about the plan. "So?" Markel went on hastily to distract Johnny from the fact
he'd been hacking into Council memoranda again. "They're all excited about
getting somebody who tells you Zen proverbs about the sound of one butterfly
wing clapping?"

"I think," Johnny said cheerfully, "they're excited about the chance that he's
solved the problem by now. And even if he hasn't. .. take another look at that
model. I bet you incorporated the code without reading it thoroughly. Want to
bring it up on the screen in my quarters, take a second look?"

A few minutes later Markel was following lines of code as they scrawled across
Johnny's screen in the highly abbreviated rormat of upper-level languages. "I
don't see the point in untangling this code," he grumbled under his breath,
"it's just what he says in the paper. Put the data into canonical form, apply
a series of nonlinear equations, and . . . oh." "Now you see it?"

Markel nodded. "If you don't stop with the initial data set, but keep entering
small changes as they're monitored . . . but then you have too many variables.
In fact, you could have an infinite series of variables. So you can't define
your nonlinear system until you know how many variables you're dealing with,
but you can't tell how many variables you need until you've defined your
nonlinear system, but . . . my head hurts," he groaned. "But, okay, okay, I
see what you mean. If you follow this path through the program, you don't get
a Zen proverb, anyway."

"Good. What do you get?"

"Probably a system crash," Markel said absently, studying the complex system
of data structures and temporary processors that would have to be created, and
then, "Johnny! You told me to implement a model that would've brought the
Haven's computer system down?"

"Actually," Johnny confessed, "I didn't think you'd get that far. I thought
you'd get bored by the time you'd implemented even one model, and then you'd
bring the results back, and then we could have looked at the discrepancies
between the prediction and what was actually happening dirtside, and that
-would be enough to convince you it wasn't so simple."

"And then," Markel said, "you'd have implied that I screwed up by not
following through all three models in rigorous detail, and I'd have been
embarrassed and quit bugging you about this stuff. John Greene," he said
slowly, "you are one twisty, devious s.o.b."

Johnny beamed. "Thank you, son. Does my heart good to have somebody recognize
my true talents. And by the way . . . that last model wouldn't have brought
the whole system down. We do have fail-safes against infinitely expanding
neural networks. Can't ever tell what some kid might code in to run his sim
games, you know," he chuckled, referring to the time Markel had used up sixty
percent of the system's resources to simulate a series of space battles in
real time for one of his war games.

Markel flushed. "That was a long time ago," he muttered. "I was just a kid
then . . . fifteen. ..."

"Last year," Johnny grinned. "Sixteen is, of course, ever so much older and
wiser than fifteen."

There was a tap on the door.

"Johnny?" called a soft voice that sent Markel's heart rate into fifth gear.

Ximena Sengrat opened the door a crack. "I am sorry to disturb you," she said,
"but the corn unit to your quarters is malfunctioning again."

Johnny snapped his fingers. "Damn wiring!" he said. "I really gotta get in
there with some duct tape."

As Markel, Ximena, and everybody else knew, Johnny had the highly unauthorized
habit of disabling the com system in his personal quarters whenever he got
tired of the continuous flow of scratchy, squeaky announcements from Central;
so they gave this "explanation" all the attention it deserved.

"My father thought you would wish to know," Ximena went on, "that Dr. Hoa is
now on board, and he has brought with him the code for his new
weather-modeling system. The Council feels it might be tactless to try to sell
the results to Khang Kieaan." She smiled and brushed her dark hair back,
revealing more of the perfect oval of her face. One curling lock clung to her
neck;

Markel could have leaned forward and moved it with one finger. Instead he
hunched over the data console and piled his printouts on his lap. "It has been
suggested we should visit Rushima instead. As a primarily agricultural colony,
they should be in desperate need of our services, and certainly the Shenjemi
Federation can afford to pay for them."

If he didn't know Ximena was only four years older than he was, Market
thought, he would've taken her for a Council member herself instead of just
somebody's kid running an errand. She sounded as if she'd been in on the
discussions. Sengrat was probably right . . . she was too old for him. She'd
never look at a sixteen-year-old kid.

"They want all our best mathematicians and computechs to familiarize
themselves with Dr. Hoa's model en route," Ximena went on. "So I'm afraid you
two will have to give up your sim game, or whatever you were playing at."

Markel wanted to protest that he had not been playing sim games, he "was way
too old for that kid stuff, but realized saving so would only make him sound
younger.
"You're supposed to study the math, Johnny," Ximena said, "and Markel, you're
assigned to the team to analyze the code."

"Me?" Markel's voice broke on the word in a humiliating croak, the sort of
thing that hadn't happened to him since he was thirteen . . . except around
Ximena.

"But of course," Ximena said, dark eyes wide as if she couldn't imagine why he
was surprised. "We couldn't do without you on this, Markel Illart. Everybody
knows you're the fastest computech on the ship."

A part of Markel's mind noticed the way Ximena said "we," as if she identified
herself with the Council, but most of his mind was floating off into
hyperspace. She knew? who he was-not just his name, but what he was good
at-and she respected it!

"Even if you are the youngest," Ximena added, and Markel came back into
ordinary flat three-space with a dull thud.

For the three shifts it took them to reach Rushima and attain a stable orbit,
Market was lost in the efficient beauty of Dr. Ngaen Xong Hoa's approach to
modeling atmospheric processes in terms of their electronic-potential
differences. The paper which had been issued to him, modestly entitled, "On
Certain Aspects of Chaotic Systems and Operations Theory," outlined a
global-weather model that was both more general and much more elegant than the
one Johnny Greene had had Markel working from. And yet. . . ?

Markel frowned at the screen. Once you cut through the code to the underlying
structure and mathematics of the model, this seemed essentially the same as
the one in the earlier paper. True, Hoa had replaced his flip comment about
the butterfly with weather predictions graded by reliability, but it was still
true that until you got into the infinite loop of adding variables and
revising the nonlinear-equations system, there were no predictions Hoa graded
as reliable enough by his standards. He still had not solved the problem of
the unpredictably large results owing to small variations that, according to
Johnny, plagued all attempts to model complex chaotic systems.

Markel had just reached that point in his reasoning when Illart announced that
it was time for their sleep shift. Under the circumstances, the only thing he
could possibly do was wait until his father started snoring and then sneak a
portable console into his sleep tube to try out the new model for himself.
Despite Johnny Greene's certainty that the built-in checks in the system would
prevent his inadvertently crashing the ship's computers, he decided that it
would not be prudent to test the new model directly. Besides, it would take
half the shift to download the amount of weather data he'd need. Instead, he
wrote a quick and dirty driver program that would simulate the running and
systems requirements of both Dr. Hoa's models, given unlimited data.

The results were almost identical. The new version could handle more nonlinear
equations than the old one before it crashed, but it still didn't get anywhere
near the predictions stage of the program. Markel switched off the portable
console and lay with his arms behind his head, thinking. If Dr. Hoa's work was
this far from completion, why had he found it necessary to flee Khang Kieaan?

Next shift, the Haven was settling into orbit around Rushima, and Illart was
too busy preparing to negotiate for the Council with Rushima to answer
Market's questions. Markel wound up, as usual, perched on Johnny Greene's
cluttered worktable in the CaN, or Computation and Navigation.

"Hoa hasn't actually been working much on the prediction model since that
paper you first saw," Johnny said, supporting Markel's deductions of the shift
before. "He's a meteorologist by trade, not a mathematician, and he says what
that model needs is some new mathematical insights-and he sure hasn't got
them."

"Then why did he really want to leave Khang Kieaan? The original work has been
out for over a year. Isn't it a little late for him to worry about somebody
misusing his research? Besides," Markel added, as snidely as befitted somebody
who'd been up for most of his sleep shift comparing a cleverly disguised "new
model" with its virtually identical predecessor, "you can't even use this one,
let alone misuse it."

"Oh, don't underrate Hoa's work," Johnny said, "it's the best
weather-prediction model going, and even if it's not long-range or perfect, it
ought to be a considerable improvement on ·whatever the Rushimese are
currently using."

"I still don't get why he had to be smuggled out in a sack of kava beans."

Johnny sighed and touched his console with one finger to halt the program he
was running. "And you're not going to stop asking why until you get some
answers, are you? Pestilential brat," he added, but his voice was warm. "What
you need is a walk in the Garden. Get some exercise. You've been staring at
your data console all night again, haven't you? You'll addle your brains that
way."

"I'm not- " Markel began. Johnny hushed him with a hand signal that dated back
to the time of his first arrival on the Haven, when he'd spent hours playing
Miners and Martians with a lonely kid whose father was wrapped up in Council
business and in grieving for a mother Markel could barely remember. That
waggle of the fingers, Markel remembered, meant, "Hush, we are observed." And
the slight crook in the thumb meant "Follow me silently."

The "Garden" was actually the part of the Havens hydroponics unit that was
open to general view: a network of narrow trails on the spongy damp flooring
of the unit, past flowers and fruits and greens that had been carefully
trained to drape over the edges of their ugly tubs. Markel had never seen the
point of it, but the Starfarers of his father's generation, who had actually
wanted-wanted! he thought in amazement-to become dirt farmers, who remembered
living dirtside in the inefficient alternation of light and darkness that
didn't fit human biorhythms, insisted they needed this gardenlike section to
remind them of their past lives.

Today, though, there were no visitors other than Johnny and him. Probably
everybody was too busy 'preparing for the Rushima negotiations, or too anxious
to hear the results, to take time for smelling the flowers.

"You're not cleared for this information," Johnny began abruptly once he had
ascertained that there were no other visitors to the Garden. "I'm only telling
you because I know how hard it is to stop you when you've got your teeth in a
problem, so I know you'll be worse trouble and probably uncover more stuff if
I don't give you a little now. But I'd hate to have to explain to the Council
that I couldn't head off a sixteen-year-old's ' 'satiable curiosity,' so just
keep it to yourself, will you. Elephant's Child?"

The nickname came from an old story Johnny had once told Markel, about a baby
elephant who got into terrible trouble and had its nose pulled until it became
a trunk, all because it refused to stop asking annoying questions.

"You haven't actually told me anything yet," Markel pointed out, "except that
there's something to tell. Now that I know that, of course I'm going to be
curious." He grinned at Johnny.

"All right. I told you Hoa hasn't been working on the weather-prediction model
for over a year, and that's true. This paper we've been given to read is just
a rehash and slight improvement of his earlier stuff, put out to convince the
heads of his research lab on Khang Kieaan that his more recent work has not
been productive and that he is going back to the prediction model. The fact is
that his experiments have been quite successful. Terribly successful," Johnny
added in somber tones. "He didn't want them to fall into the hands of any of
the three Khang Kieaan parties for fear that whichever party had it would use
his work to destroy the other governments, and probably destroy the planet in
the process. And there were too many people involved in the work to keep it
secret indefinitely; even though he was the only one who knew all the parts of
the project and could put it together, he was afraid some lab assistant or
graduate student would let out enough to get the head of the lab interested.
He had already converted his notes to a single datacube and erased all his
working files, and he was prepared to blow up the datacube and himself if they
came for him before he found a way off-planet. You can imagine that he was
very glad to learn of the Haven's visit."

"Okay, okay." Markel was practically dancing with impatience. "But what is
this 'terribly successful' work, and when do I get to see it?"

"You're not having these papers," Johnny told him. "Nobody but Council heads
and a few selected experts have been invited "Like who?"

"Well . . . yours truly, for one, which is how come I know enough to know that
you shouldn't be asking questions right now. Sengrat, because if we can find a
useful application for the work, he'll be in charge of building the equipment
needed. J don't know who else. Not many."

Markel could tell when he was beaten. "You could at least tell me what its
about."

"I could at least get my head ripped off by your father for breaching security
to the extent I already have," Johnny muttered. "Look, kid. If I tell you the
general area Hoa's been working on, do I have your word of honor that you'll
stop asking questions, and you won't hack into the ship's system to get any
more information on it, until it's released for public consumption? He's
taking a big step here. He doesn't trust his own people to use this work
wisely, but he does trust the Starfarers. Do you have any idea what that says
about the reputation men like your father have built up in a decade of
fighting for justice? And do you see what a betrayal of Hoa's trust it would
be if we let word of the results spread as soon as we knew what he'd been
working on?"

Dry-mouthed, Markel nodded. "Okay," he said. "You have my word I won't ask any
more." The next thing cost him an effort to say, but he managed it anyway.
"You don't even have to tell me what it's about, if you don't want to.
Besides," he couldn't resist adding, "I bet I can guess."

"Anything but that," Johnny exclaimed in mock horror. "Better you should know
than we should be subjected to the guesses you'll dream up. . . . He's moved
from studying weather prediction to studying weather manipulation. Everybody
knows that if you zap a planet's ionosphere with enough energy you can disrupt
communications and cause unusual* weather patterns;

well, Hoa's been refining on that, getting more accuracy, working -with a
series of targeted laser beams and precise timing sequences. From what I've
seen of the preliminary results, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he
can call down lightning out of the heavens."

True to his word, Markel did no more investigating of Dr. Hoa's recent
research. Instead, he put in a casual quarter of an hour answering the
questions the electronic math tutor had Allocated for that week, then decided
to revert to last year's childish pursuits and play a few rounds of
SimArmageddon. But the console beeped a warning at him instead of bringing up
the sim game, and neon green capital letters flashed a message on the screen.

YOUR ACCESS TO GAMES HAS BEEN RESTRICTED UNTIL YOU WRITE THAT TERM PAPER FOR
THE LANGUAGE AND COMPOSITION TUTOR. LOVE, ILLART.

Markel hated actually composing papers-language was so clumsy compared to the
pure, sparse beauty and rigorous meanings of mathematics and computer
languages. He felt sure that he could easily enough hack his way around
whatever restrictions Illart had imposed. No First-Gen Starfarer could know
his way around the Haven's computers the way the children of the Starfarers
did. But Illart would probably consider that dishonorable.

With a sigh Markel settled down to think over the assignment. Research am)
write the biography of an aault with whom you are personally acquainted.
Verify all statements with documentation am) interviews. Where there if a
conflict between documentation am) the personal account, resolve the conflict
without either falsifying the Documented facts or offending the interviewee.
Oh, great. Not only was he going to have to write complete sentences and
paragraphs and do footnotes, he was going to have to practice Tact and
Diplomacy 101.

Well, let's see. Doing Ximena would give him an excuse to "interview" her . .
. but he felt sure the tutor would not count a Starfarer of his generation as
an "adult," even if she was four years older than him and inclined to identify
herself with the older generation. Johnny Greene wouldn't take offense at
anything Markel wrote, but he was a slippery customer; Markel had already
discovered that Johnny was vague about certain episodes in his past and that a
lot of his life had somehow slipped through the bureaucratic meshes of the
galactic Lattice.

Everybody else would be doing some First-Gen Starfarers; Markel cringed at the
thought of hearing all those histories of the Theft of Esperantza from various
points of view. He would have to do something different . . . there was that
woman Sengrat had mentioned, Nueva Fallona of Palomella. She must be quite
old, at least thirty, but Markel wouldn't mind interviewing her one bit. He
thought about glimpses of a curtain of straight, iridescent, reddish bronze
hair, a firm chin, eyes that always seemed to be looking into some distance
only she could see. And she was intriguing, with that slight limp and the
elegant cane she used, made of a reddish bronze to match her hair, turning her
disability into an affectation. Probably she'd been tortured by the
Palomellese government and was too proud to talk about her past sufferings.
Yes, she'd definitely be an interesting subject. Besides, Markel would bet
nobody else in his age class would think of doing a Palomellese; it wouldn't
have occurred to them that they could access Palomella's databases via the
Lattice. True, there'd be just a little hacking involved . . . but it was
research for an assigned paper, Markel told himself virtuously.

And the Haven's computer-tutor seemed to agree, or else Illart hadn't thought
of restricting Markel's access to anything other than games, for it let him
access a gateway to the Lattice with no trouble at all. He didn't really have
to start working until he reached Palomella's first level of security. When
Illart returned upset from a two-shift-long Council meeting, Markel's mood was
somber enough to match his.

"How did it go?" Market asked from the tube, where he'd been lounging and
watching old music vids. "You missed our mess time. Want me to go to the
kitchens and get a bowl of hotchpotch for you?"

"No, thanks," Illart said. "They sent in food between shifts, so we wouldn't
have to break for mess."

"How come?" Market thought he knew the answer, but he wanted the satisfaction
of hearing it from his father. "You always said it was a good idea to break up
long meetings, give everybody a chance to simmer down."

Illart rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, and Markel knew from the
gesture that his father was suffering one of the agonizing tension headaches
that had plagued him ever since he took over from Andrezhuria as First
Speaker. Perhaps it was time he handed over to Gerezan. Markel slipped out of
his tube and squatted behind Illart to rub the tense cords of muscle in his
neck.

Illart sighed with relief. "That's better. You've your mother's touch. When I
came in hot and sweaty and aching from the fields, Aiora used to rub the ache
out of my muscles as lightly as a butterfly's wing."

Markel could almost remember the scene -or was it just that Illart had
reminisced about it so many times? All that Markel could truly remember of
their life on Esperantza was the communal creche where Illart had left him for
the long hours of daylight after his mother died. He couldn't even remember
what his father had been like in those days; he was usually asleep by the time
Illart came in from the fields to collect him. He'd been looking forward to
turning five, when he would be old enough to follow Illart into the fields and
collect stones, or help with some other farming task, instead of staying in
the creche with the babies. Life on the Haven had been a joyous adventure of
freedom and exploration compared to that, an unexpected boon from the heavens.
...

Markel abruptly switched his thoughts back to the present, as he always did
when his reminiscences reached that point. It seemed disloyal to Illart and
the others who had given more than ten years of their lives seeking justice,
to admit that he for one didn't really want to go back to Esperantza or any
other dirtside life. Crowded and dilapidated the Haven might be, but it was
far more home to Markel than any vague memories of dirtside life.

And he mustn't let Illart guess that, ever. It would hurt him too much.

"So tell me about the meeting," he said instead. "How come you didn't break
for mess, and didn't 'cast any of the discussion?" Usually, although not
always, the Council meetings were broadcast on a separate channel for any
interested citizen to view through the data console.

"We were discussing . . . classified matters," Illart said. "Why would the
negotiations with Rushima be classified?"

-Market asked in his most innocent voice. "After all, everybody knows that's
what we're here for."

"They're not going well," Illart said.

"I'm not surprised. After I looked at Dr. Hoa's weatherprediction model, I can
see why they might not want to pay for it. Its not that much of an improvement
on current systems.'

"Yes, but they don't know that yet," Illart said. "They haven't seen the code
. . . they just said no thank you, they've had three years of bad harvests
planetwide and they owe so many back taxes to the Shenjemi Federation that
they can't even imagine throwing away their credits on high-tech frills. The
wording," he added dryly, "is Rushimese, not ours."

"So it took two full shifts for them to turn us down?" "Oh, no. That happened
about ten minutes after we opened negotiations. The rest of the meeting,"
Illart said wearily, "concerned what we do next."

"Try somewhere else ? " Markel hazarded. "That seems to me our only option.
But Nueva Fallona had another idea. You see, Hoa brought with him the results
of some other research he's been doing recently... I can't tell you exactly
what, you're not cleared, but it has to do with actually modifying weather
patterns rather than just predicting them. Nueva and some of the other Council
members thought we might be able to use that research to convince the
Rushimese that they needed our services." Illart sighed again. "If Hoa's work
were accurate enough for us to guarantee a season's worth of good growing
weather, and if we could afford to wait around during that growing season, it
might not be such a bad idea. But he doesn't have that kind of control yet, as
Nueva ought to know; she's seen the abstracts Johnny Greene put together for
all the Council members. I pointed out that we couldn't predict what would
happen if we started discharging pulsed energy into Rushimas ionosphere-we
could cause terrible catastrophes on the surface- and do you know what that
woman said?" Illart s voice rose in indignation. "That it didn't matter what
happened; if we could make their weather interesting enough, they'd be very
happy to pay for our services. As if we'd stoop to running a 'protection'
racket-pay us or we'll destroy your climate! None of the original Starfarers
would stoop to such a thing. Naturally, Andrezhuria and I quashed that idea.
But it took forever. Some of the Council actually couldn't see that Nueva was
proposing to threaten Rushima until I spelled it out for them in plain
language, over and over. The funny thing is," Illart said, yawning hugely,
"Nueva herself didn't seem to be that unhappy when I made it clear that we'd
never consider such an unethical procedure. The other Palomellese on the
Council were griping and muttering, but Nueva actually seemed pleased that I
wouldn't even consider her proposal."

In view of what Markel had learned about Nueva during his afternoon of hacking
into Palomella's secure data bases, this surprised him even more than it did
Illart; but his father fell asleep before he had a chance to tell him what the
Palomellese aboard ship had been tactfully not mentioning.

Later he thought that he might never forgive himself for that omission.

A dream of flashing lights, laser pulses calling lightning from the clouds,
cities going up in silent waves of flame, resolved into the steady
three-pulsed flash of the cabin lights that signaled an emergency alert.
Markel half fell out of his sleep tube, rubbing his eyes, and turned to Illart
for an explanation of this emergency.

Only Illart wasn't there. He must already have gone to deal with the problem .
. . but what sort of emergency could call the First Speaker out in the middle
of his sleep shift? For engineering problems, Sengrat would have been called;
for computer systems, Johnny Greene or one of the other hotshots who carried
the CaN. Much as Markel respected his father, he knew that Illart's high
position on the Haven was due not to technical expertise but to his reputation
for probity and plain speaking. Illart wasn't even that much of a diplomat;
when they needed somebody to weasel-word around some system's regulations,
Gerezan was the Speaker they called upon to phrase the careful sentences.

Well, it was dumb to stand there trying to guess what had happened instead of
using the ship's information channels. Markel turned toward the main data
console built into the wall of the sitting area, but before he touched it, the
screen came to life of its own, casting an eerie pale glow over the darkened
chamber. "FREE CITIZENS OF THE HAVEN\" blared the speakers. For once, the
sounds came through clear as a bell, with no ominous cracklings in the
background. "Please assemble before your screens for an important
announcement!" The emergency lights flashed three more times, a siren went
off, and the lights pulsed again before the gray background of the screen
dissolved to show . . . not the Council chambers, as Markel had expected, but
one of the cargo bays where technical equipment and supplies were stowed.
Confused-looking people, disheveled from sleep, stood to one side of the bay;
among them Markel saw his father and Andrezhuria, the Second Speaker. On the
other side of the bay stood those who must have been on shift when the
emergency, whatever it was, had occurred; their faces were bright and alert,
and they were wearing crisply pressed black fatigues. The majority of them
seemed to be Palomellese, although Markel recognized Gerezan, Third Speaker,
and Sengrat standing with them. With mounting disbelief Markel saw that two of
the Palomellese had drawn phasers and were aiming them at the other side of
the bay. He had no time to see more before Nueva Fallona's sharply chiseled
features filled the screen.

"Free citizens of the Haven," she began crisply, "you have been betrayed, not
once, but over and over again through the years, by those who pretended to
care for your welfare above their own. This ship, our only home, is in grave
disrepair, and the Haven has no funds for refitting and repair. Yet the
Speakers of Council who are supposed to guard your fate have paid no attention
to your desperate situation; they care more about acting the part of noble and
disinterested statesmen than they do about protecting those who depend on
them! Furthermore, though they pretend to have a system of democratic
elections, the fact is that the power of Council is controlled by the three
Speakers, and they have not changed since the first charter of the
Starfarers."

Markel frowned. That was true, now he came to think of it. Andrezhuria,
Gerezan, and his father had shifted the burden of being First Speaker from one
to another over the years, but he could not remember any other Speakers ever
being elected. In fact, nobody ever ran for the office; it was the lesser
Council posts that were disputed in the lengthy political debates the older
people loved so well. But Nueva didn't understand. Who'd -want to be a
Speaker? It was a heavy responsibility, one that had lined Illart's face
before his time, one that had broken up Andrezhuria's marriage to Ezkerra when
he complained that she cared more about the Starfarers en masse than about her
husband.

"As a loyal Starfarer, I can no longer stand aside and see this travesty of a
government go on until our tanks are empty of -water and our atmosphere is
poisoned by failing recyclers," Nueva went on. An abstract part of Markel's
mind was impressed by the way she harped on the issues that would immediately
excite any space-faring group, while the rest of him was beginning to panic.
Something terrible was going to happen. He knew about Nueva and the rest of
the Palomellese now; he had to tell Illart immediately, before whatever this
was went any further.

The cabin door would not move under his hand. He tugged at the latch to no
avail; it wasn't stuck, it was electronically locked. Probably by a command
from Central Systems.
"At the eleventh hour we have found a way to salvage ourselves through the
work of a new Starfarer, Dr. Ngaen Xong Hoa," Nueva said from the screen.
"Proper application of his . research can give us the power to control the
weather and communications of any planet we visit. Rushima and many others
will pay well for the use of this technology, but the fainthearts who control
the Council will not permit it. They would rather see you suffocate in a dying
ship than take the risk of using new technology!"

Illart started forward. "No!" he shouted. "That's a lie, Nueva, and you know
it! Tell them what Hoa's system will actually do to a planet! Tell them that
you don't know the effects of using it, that nobody can predict-"

A Palomellese swung his phaser up into Illart's face. "No interrup' La
Fallona!"

Markel held his breath until Illart subsided. For a moment he'd thought he was
about to see his father murdered before his eyes.

"We, the loyal Starfarers, have been forced to take over from the Council in
this emergency," said Nueva. "Those who are with us stand here. Those who are
not with us may now leave the Haven."

Markel exhaled a long sigh of relief. The Palomellese might be criminals, but
they weren't homicidal maniacs. They meant to exile the Speakers to Rushima.
It was a crazy plan, but it wouldn't-it couldn't-last long. The Starfarers
would never stand for this . . . would they? For the first time he felt uneasy
about the sight of Gerezan and Sengrat, fully dressed and alert, standing
comfortably among all these armed Palomellese.

Andrezhuria spoke into the silence left by Nueva's last words. "I will happily
take a lifeboat to any system you name," she announced, "rather than lend my
countenance to your extortion schemes. But we'll be back when the Starfarers
realize what you're up to!"

Nueva's smile did not reach her eyes. "Back? Oh, no, I don't think so," she
said softly. "Whatever gave you the idea we meant to waste precious resources
like lifeboats and oxygen tanks on the fools who have already wasted so much
of the Haven's substance? If you won't earn the air you breathe, then you can
find your own-out there." She gestured with her phaser toward the door to air
locks at the end of the cargo bay.

"Now, just a minute, Nueva," Gerezan protested uneasily. "I never meant - "

"No? Then you, too, are a fool," Nueva said. "Perhaps in sentimental vids
people leave their enemies alive, to recover and strike at them again. On
Palomellawe learned better." She nodded at one of the other armed Palomellese.
"Esposito, the prisoners here are those who cannot be rehabilitated. You may
escort them to the air locks." She turned back to the screen. "Citizens, you
have been confined to quarters for your own security during this changeover.
As soon as the prisoners have been disposed of, members of the new Council
will come among you to release you from your quarters and take your oaths of
loyally."

Markel stood like an idiot, staring at the screen as he saw the men and women
in their sleeping clothes shuffle forward under the phasers of the Palomellese
guards. He recognized nearly all the faces in the group: Council members,
First-Generation Starfarers from Esperantza, the sort of people who would have
agreed with Illart that it was unthinkable to use Hoa's weather control as a
weapon against peaceful planets. How much of this had been planned? An
extended Council meeting, to make sure that all the dissenting members would
be sleeping on the next shift; easy then to surprise the CaN and Engineering
departments, and to round up unsuspecting, sleeping people for. . . .

"NO!" Markel hammered at the door, weeping tears of rage and fury. On the
screen, the image of his father said, "Esposito, quit waving that thing
around, somebody's going to get hurt. If you're going to run this ship, you'd
better learn to think ahead."

Illart sounded so calm that Markel thought for a minute he had secret control
of the situation, that in a moment he would snap his fingers and the
Palomellese would discover themselves outmanned by a large force of armed
Starfarers.

But instead, Illart strolled toward the air lock as casually as if he were
going for a walk in the Garden. "Aiora, my love," he said to the slowly
opening door, "it has been too long." He looked directly toward the screen for
just a moment. "And we leave those behind who will remember and avenge this
treachery."

That was his farewell to Markel. Later Markel realized that Illart had not
mentioned his name because he did not wish to remind Nueva Fallona that he
left a son who would never forgive his execution. At the time he only watched,
eyes blinded by tears, as his father passed beyond the inner doors of the air
lock and out of his life forever.

Behind Illart, Andrezhuria shook off the Palomellese who had a hand on her
arm. "I go with the First Speaker," she said coldly. Her eyes glanced at the
group of Palomellese. "Gerezan, your honor goes with us. Will you not
accompany it?"

"I did try to get you to see reason, 'Zhuria," Gerezan mumbled.

Andrezhuria lifted her chin and tossed the tumble of blond nnglets back over
her shoulders. Without another word she stepped forward through the inner
doors of the air lock, hand in hand with her former husband Ezkerra. The other
prisoners followed her, one by one, some protesting, others accepting their
fate in benumbed silence.

When the inner doors closed behind them. Market went temporarily mad, beating
on the unyielding door and twisting at the walls until his hands were raw and
bruised. This could not be happening-it was some sort of nightmare!

"No nightmare," said a raw voice he hardly recognized as his own. "You knew
-what Nueva Fallona was. You knew, and you did not tell Illart." He had a debt
to pay for that failure, a task Illart had laid on him in those last words: to
remember and avenge.

And he could accomplish nothing by crying like a baby or wrestling with the
doors as if they could hear his desperation. Markel put his grief aside, and
with it the last of his childhood, because he did not have very long to decide
-what to do before the new guards came for him. They must know that he -would
never swear loyalty to the regime that had killed his father. Even if they
were blind enough to believe in any oath he took, wouldn't the words choke
him?

There was only one alternative: he must not be there when they came. It was a
good thing he knew the secret insides of the Haven so well. In the icy calm
that he had imposed on himself, Markel mentally went over at least three
separate ways to exit the cabin without using the locked doors, any one of
which would leave no trace. But just to confuse the issue, he would hack into
the central computer and see what trouble he could make before leaving. No
telling when he'd next get a chance at a data console.


Three

Labour, Unified\ Federation Date334.05.12


House Harakamian received an emergency call from the senior members of the
secluded and elusive planet of Laboue, where Hafiz Harakamian made his home
when he was not scouring the galaxy in search of rarities for his collection
and profits for his businesses.

"Surprised by your call? Why, no, my dear Quiabriel," Hafiz said urbanely. "I
assume you wish to enlist my help in communicating with the strange ship that
has been in orbit about our world for the past six hours."

An irritated crackle came from the speaker, ending on a note of inquiry.

"But of course I am aware of it. House Harakamian's defenses are, as I am sure
you are aware, planetwide; and information, my dear Quiabriel, is the first
requisite for proper selfdefense."

But Hafiz had not been aware of the reason why Quiabriel was enlisting his
aid. When he learned of it, his eyebrows rose in surprise-not so much at the
news that beings similar to the horned girl Hafiz had once sheltered were
apparent in vids transmitted from the strange ship, as at the discovery that
Quiabriel knew all about his unicorn visitor of four years previously.
Something was very wrong with the Harakamian security arrangements, to allow
Quiabriel access to such information!

But concerns about his private security system vanished when the broadcasts
coming from the ship were transmitted forward to the Harakamian house screens.

What it was broadcasting was not a known language but files of the most awful
atrocities he'd ever seen committed, inflicted by vicious-looking members of
an alien race on what Hafiz instantly identified as members of Acorna's
species. Some, and these must be the males writhing within their torture
structures, had larger horns, were obviously taller than Acorna, but helpless.
Then the awful visions altered to a spatial map, showing the planet Laboue
where House Harakamian was sited. Clearly displayed were the bridge of a ship
occupied by members of Acorna's species, and then a second view of the
galactic area in which this solar system was located as well as a five-ship
vanguard of what had to be the vicious torturers aiming straight at this
retreat. Then images of the unicorn people, this time standing upright and
free, appeared, their arms outspread in what appeared to be a gesture of
greeting-or a cry for help.

"So?" asked Misra Affrendi, a trusted family retainer who had recently
celebrated his 11 Oth year of life, "what do we do?"

Misra didn't sound desperate, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Is there a channel from our satellite open to the horned ones' ship?"

"Of course, and everyone with any linguistic ability is trying to analyze
their language."

Hafiz grimaced. He did have a cube of Acorna opening the Maganos Mining, but
he didn't have Rafik, who might or might not remember the few words Acorna had
initially used before she had sopped up Basic Universal Interlingua like a
sponge. And, as far as Hafiz knew, the escape pod was at Maganos Moon Base,
too, and he'd no cube of THAT to display.

Quiabriel had wondered if the vids were some form of threat, but to Hafiz it
was obvious that the horned folk felt some warning was required to another
sapient race standing in the path of such a viciously predatory race as those
videoed. Hafiz shuddered at the thought of Acorna's lovely slender body
encased in any of the instruments of torture displayed. And then at the
thought of his own in a similar condition.

"What else is being done?" Hafiz huffed. "As the Third Prophet said, 'Before
thine own life and thine own honor, redeem and protect the house from whence
thou earnest.' First we must protect House Harakamian-then we can analyze this
message at length and attempt to establish communication."

"That has already been taken care of. We've activated the Shield, of course,"
Misra said, his elderly voice croaking with impatience.

"Have we warned all our shipping and affiliates?"

"Those in immediate peril, yes."

"But once the Shield goes up, no one can get in or out."

"Exactly," Misra said with great satisfaction.

"I must contact my heir immediately. ..."

"You have six minutes before the Shield goes up."

For the first time in his life, Hafiz wondered if the Shield, which had cost
so much and had been kept so secret, would prove sufficient to the need. As
soon as he sent a message to Rafik, he would initiate his own special invasion
procedures. They would have been sufficient against any known hazard, but he
didn't like the look of these new predators. Especially if the little Horn
ship had felt obliged to warn any other sapient species it encountered.

Why could he not remember the few words that Acorna had said to him in her own
language?

"Ah!" Now they came floating back to him. "Awi," she had cried in her sleep
once. "Awi, Lalli..."

"Misra, I must speak to these Horned Ones!"

"Why? Have you suddenly a method of learning their language unknown to us?"

"For once, Methusalitic relic of a thousand of an era no longer even
understood, stop asking questions! PATCH ME THROUGH!"

If the beauty of the four obviously mature specimens of Acorna's species
startled Hafiz, they were dumbfounded to hear him use the two words of their
language that he knew.

"Aavi," one of them repeated, giving the word a slightly different emphasis
that made her sound exactly like Acorna. "Laali?" Then, blast it, she started
chattering their gibberish at high speed.
"What is she saying, what is she saying?" demanded Misra.

"I have no idea," said Hafiz, although in fact he was pretty sure she was
saying the Horned Ones' equivalent of "Praise to Allah, at last someone who
speaks a civilized language!"

That attempt at communication had backfired, but at least he had a vid of
Acorna to show, taken secretly two years ago -when she had visited him, and
kept by Hafiz for his private enjoyment. When he displayed the pictures of
young Acorna romping on the grass and dancing to her own music on the Singing
Stones of Skarness, he saw the amazement of the envoys increase. They fell
silent, but their moving eyes and animated gestures indicated that a lively
discussion was going on. Why could he not hear it? Oh, well, what difference
would it make if he could? He wouldn't have understood what they were saying
anyway.

When he also produced the graphic of the inscription on her escape pod, they
became so agitated that he wondered if he had turned the information about
Acorna over to the wrong sort of Horned Ones.

Hafiz had never been good with charades as a method of communication, but he
had the sense to record the movements: the blunt two-jointed hands mimicked a
small member of their species, then outspread and uplifted arms and a
universally understood expression of query.

In response he nodded, smiled, and gestured to the latest height of Acorna to
indicate her maturity.

Then they obviously were trying to extract from him her current location,
showing him star maps and pointing urgently at them. They spoke all the time
in their own liquid language, slightly nasal, as Acorna's Basic was, but he
was totally out of his depth. He'd always left navigation to his highly
trained space crew and wished desperately that he had Rafik to hand just then.

A chance look at the timepiece showed him he had little time to fool with
gestures and expressions. He compressed their interview into a message cube,
slotted it in with the Uhuru's code, and sent it off. No sooner had he done
that than a great shadow seemed to float through the window and over his
house. The Shield had been put in place.

Lost was any contact with the courier ship, and he could not be certain that
the message had made it through that device and on to Rafik.

"Well," Misra's acid voice now violated his ears, "did you find out anything?"

"If I did, that damned Shield, ten thousand djinnis fly away with it and drop
it into the hell of molten rock, may have prevented it getting through to
where this information will be most valuable. Rafik HAS to have that
information."

"They call themselves Linyaari," Misra said with that odiously superior tone
he so often adopted. "We know their planet of origin, but it has been totally
destroyed by these invaders whom they call the Khieevi. They have
reestablished a home world only to be forced to run again from these . . .
these things. They thought to warn us, and they have other couriers doing the
same task in the hope of finding some group strong enough, or militaristically
advanced enough, to overcome the threat the Khieevi so obviously are. Let me
remind you that all communications would now cease even if the Shield were not
in place, in case these . . . predators . . . have equipment able to detect
even planetary-based signals."
"That," Hafiz said, "could prove as expensive as not having the Shield at
all." No communications meant no trade, and how long could Rafik carry all the
burdens of House Harakamian's multitudinous business schemes by himself? Not
only that, but he would be absolutely unable to complete some agreements
without Hafiz's personal authorization, and there were others he had not been
told of. ... Well, the boy had already proved his worth as heir to House
Harakamian; he wouldn't be a worthy heir if he didn't have, somewhere, a
source of information about ALL the House's business plans, as well as a code
key that would allow him to forge his uncle's authorization. In that sense at
least, one could always trust one's family. . . . But to do exactly what?
Rafik couldn't protect Acorna and manage Hafiz's business simultaneously.
Hafiz paced his study and could not decide which choice would cause him most
distress.

Rafik was somewhat surprised to receive a message from his uncle, who should
know that the Uhuru was already orbiting Laboue and that Rafik would be
reporting in person shortly. The message had obviously suffered some damage in
transit, and the only word that came through unmutilated was "Acorna's ..."

Rafik fired off a request for a repetition of the message while he waited for
confirmation of his first message, requesting permission to land.

The com board gave a warning beep; Rafik glanced over to see that his second
message had been returned as undeliverable. There was still no response to the
first one ... and a new series of beeps alerted him to the possibility that
there would be none. Laboues main communications satellite had stopped
transmitting. "Check alternates, display visuals, trace," Rafik snapped, and
the visual-display screen came up showing a sphere of cloudy gray, to all
appearances completely enclosing the green planet where he had just been
preparing to land. The test of alternate communications routes returned a
null; apparently none of the backup satellites was transmitting or receiving
messages either. The red tracer line that showed the futile progress of his
communications burst from one possible node to another also showed a strange
ship, one whose beacon signal, if any, was unknown to the Uhuru's computer . .
. and Rafik would have sworn that his uncle Hafiz had access to every
ship-recognition code, registered or unregistered, in known space.

What sort of threat had that little ship posed, to make Hafiz take the
unprecedented step of shutting, Laboue off from the rest of the universe with
the Shield? Should he stay and try to help from here? After a moments
agonizing debate, Rafik decided against it. He had every confidence in Uncle
Hafiz s ability to take care of himself. Besides, if this confidence should
prove to be misplaced for once, Hafiz would surely not be pleased to see his
heir run into the same noose that had captured him. And that garbled message
had said something about Acorna... perhaps to warn of some danger threatening
her? Clearly his duty was to return to Maganos Moon Base at once, to check up
on Acorna, and once there perhaps to enlist Delszaki Li's aid in finding out
what disaster had cut off his uncle's communications.

On board the Balakiire, joy and confusion almost overwhelmed the Linyaari
envoys at this evidence that one had survived who had long been considered
dead to them. They were not, however, so overset that Mehreenya, the
communications specialist, failed to copy and trace the single message that
emerged before a shield impenetrable even to their sophisticated equipment
blanked out transmissions from the planet below.

Among themselves they did not bother to speak aloud; after so many months of
travel, the small crew were all perfectly attuned to one another's
thought-patterns, so that the rudimentary short-distance telepathic
communication of their kind was even less effort than speaking.

(That pod was marked with the names of Feriila and Vaanye.) That was Neeva,
Feriila's sister, one of the two senior members of the envoy team. The hope
that some member of her family might have survived had overpowered her
emotions; her golden eyes were narrowed to vertical slits, and the gilt
tendrils other mane quivered in the still air of the ship.

(But we know they destroyed their ship rather than be captured by the Khieevi.
How could one of the survival pods have come so far, to be in the possession
of these barbarians?) Thariinye, young and beautiful and arrogantly male,
prided himself on his unemotional analytical reasoning.

The thought-streams of the whole crew blended, coalescing and separating like
partial conversations at a very crowded party.

(We don't know they are barbarians. They may be perfectly civilized people.)
The thought-shape that accompanied this concept was of a group of hornless
unicorns with flimsy, soft hands and feet. If Khaari had been speaking, the
words that went with this thought-shape would have been "people like us."
(Then why won't they treat with us? Anyway, they look like carnivores to me.
Did you see those pointy side teeth?)

(We still don't know all the properties of the device Vaanye used to destroy
the ship; his research notes went with him. But we can postulate it was
developed as an offshoot of his research into space topology and
transportation.)

(Who cares about the research! I want to find Feriila's child!)

(Neeva, calm yourself. That they have a vid does not prove that they have the
child, only that there has been some previous contact with our kind. The vid
was of a young girl; its been three ghaanyi since the explosion; if Feriila's
youngling had lived, she would be fully grown by now.)

(My point about the research was, Vaanye said the new weapon worked by folding
space to make two distant points contiguous, but there were still a few minor
problems to be solved.)

(So?)

(So maybe what he meant by "a few minor problems" was that objects close to
the fold might be unpredictably transported to an unknown distant point.
Physicists think like that, you know. And when he used his experimental weapon
to blow up his ship and the Khieevi attackers, maybe as a side effect, the
youngling's escape pod was transported into this sector.)

(A lot of "maybes" there.)

(Okay, you explain how they got hold of a pod from a ship that was supposed to
have been destroyed down to the molecular level three ghaanyi ago.)

(I'm sure she survived. I'm sure of it. The barbarian was holding his hand up
to show us how much she'd grown. And that word he kept saying-"Acorna"-that
must be what they called her.)

("Acorna"? That word was in the transmission that was sent just before the
Shield closed down. It was the only signal I picked up clearly. But it was
enough to send that neighboring ship out of orbit.)
(Can we follow it?)

(Of course we can, if Melireenya will give me details of the ship's signal. I
didn't get this for nothing.) Khaari tapped the crescent-shaped silver medal
that proclaimed her a senior tutor in the Navigators' Guild.

(Might as well do so, then. It certainly doesn't look as if we're going to get
any more out of this lot of barbarians. Why did you have to scare them with
those vids of Khieevi tortures, Melireenya?)

(Me? I like that! It was your idea to start with vids instead of first
collecting enough samples of the language to run the LAANYE, Thariinye!)

(Well, they're scared now, no matter whose idea it was,) Neeva interposed
pacifically. (We'd better cloak the ship; if this one notices us following, he
might think we have hostile intentions toward him.)

(Why don't we just capture him for our language sample?)

(Thariinye. I. Want. To. See. Where. He. Goes. All right?)

Thariinye s handsome young face flushed dark, and his silvery pupils narrowed
to slits at Neeva's scolding tone, but he realized the justice in it. His
attempt at first contact with the barbarians had failed miserably. In the
democratic fashion of the Linyaari, it was now Neeva's turn to take the lead,
and he was obliged to support whatever decisions she made in her own attempt
to initiate contact-even if those decisions did seem to him, as now, to be
excessively guided by personal concerns.

To be even more than fair, Thariinye reminded himself that a possible missing
one of the Linyaari should be of the greatest importance to them all. It was
just coincidence that this particular one, if she lived, might turn out to be
Neeva's sister-child.

All the same, he felt embarrassed both at his failure and at this public
reprimand, and was eager to distinguish himself before the older envoys; a
desire which was to cause far more trouble than this brief squabble on board
the ship.

Cloaked and shielded, the Balakiire followed Rafik's Uhara at a discreet
distance, a momentary darkness in space that hovered always in the other
ship's blind spot. For fear of alerting their quarry, the Linyaari shut down
transmissions with their home base, difficult in any case at this great
distance from the civilized world; but within the ship, they discussed their
next step endlessly until everybody's thought-patterns converged by minute
increments onto the same plan. They had been mistaken to try and skip the
language-acquisition phase of initiating contact with a new people; this
would, therefore, have to be their first priority after they discovered the
other ship's destination.

For many generations the Linyaari had relied more and more upon their
late-evolving telepathic abilities and less and less upon spoken language,
except as a way of communicating with younglings whose brains were not yet
mature enough for thought-speech. Only when they first came into contact with
other races did they discover the problem presented by their total inability
to make thought-contact with Others who showed signs of being as "linyarii,"
in their own way, as the Linyaari themselves. With highly advanced technology
but no experience in learning second languages, they had taken the obvious
step of devising a learning device that, given a sample of an alien language,
could be used in a few overnight sleep-training sessions to connect the forms
of that language with the thought-forms of basic Linyaari communication. The
device did have the one minor drawback-that it was necessary to establish some
rudimentary dialogue with one of the aliens first, as a basis for further
learning; and they had learned through experience that it could be extremely
difficult to get cooperation before proper communication was established. The
nesters of Khorma V had been sedentary creatures, the adults bonded to their
nests by a complex set of chemical interactions. That first translation task
had been easy enough; the Linyaari envoys needed only to camp beside a large
nest and wait until the inhabitants grew curious enough to begin interaction.
But the scurrying little dharmakoi of Galleni had been shy, easily frightened
little creatures with a unique ability to disappear into shadows. The Linyaari
had slowly established trust over a long period of cautious contacts, until
the dharmakoi learned that not all Others were predators and came trustingly
to converse with the large horned ones ... a lesson the Linyaari now regretted
teaching them, since the dharmakoi had greeted the first Khieevi with the same
trust and hence were now extinct.

Memories of the time it had taken to gain the trust of the dharmakoi had
inspired Thariinye's suggestion that they initiate contact with vids from
Khieevi torture ships, showing these barbarians what a mutual enemy they and
the Linyaari had. At the time it had seemed like an excellent idea. Now they
had returned to their basic contact methods, with a slight difference that was
argued out while they followed the other ship.

(We don't have time to spend months taming a barbarian. Besides, they are
many, and we are only four-in this sector. What if they decide -we're
dangerous and try to kill us? We have to establish communications right away,)
Tharunye argued.

(I'm not   even going to mention where I've heard that idea before, or what just
happened   when we tried it.) Neeva's thought-images were accompanied by an
emotion,   or rather, by the haughty repression of all emotion; they seemed to
float in   a cold empty space.

(It wasn't a total failure,) Melireenya pointed out. (We did learn that your
sister-child may be alive and in this sector, Neeva.)

(I'm just saying that next time I'd like to have a little more meaningful
dialogue and a little less hand waving, all right? It's clear we can't do
anything until we have their language.)

(I didn't say we don't need the language, I said we don't have time to sit
outside their burrows and win their trust little by little, like the Second
Envoys did with the dharmakoi.)

(So what do you suggest, Thariinye-always-in-a-hurry?)

(Isn't it obvious? We'll have to catch one. The one -we're following is
handy.)

(That's unethical! We can't deprive a sapient being of liberty without its
understanding and consent!)

(So we'll calm it down until it consents.)

(Wait a minute, Neeva. Thariinye has a valid point. It could take a long time
to win these barbarians' trust. . . and they seem to have formidable weapons
systems. If they are more khievn than linyarii [more like vermin than like us,
the People] then they might -well exterminate us before we can even begin
negotiations.)
(If they are so khievii that they kill strangers who come to them peacefully,
there's no point in negotiating. Those are not the kind of allies we need.)
(Agreed, Neeva, but if you don't terribly mind, I would prefer not to die
finding this out!) Khaari thought with a wry twist other mind that set all
four Linyaari laughing in agreement.

(Perhaps if we could win the barbarian s consent after we have captured and
tamed it. . . ?) Melireenya suggested.

(Bending our laws instead of breaking them, Melireenya?)

(Any good system must be flexible,) Melireenya stood up for herself.

(Hmm. Well. . . )

(We might want to use the barbarian as an envoy, too, rather than speaking
with them directly. Just at first, while we're finding out what happened to
your sister-child. It might be betterif they think it's one of their own
people inquiring, then they won't get scared and hide her.)

(You're assuming a lot of cooperation from this captive barbarian whom we
don't even have yet.)

(If this people are at all linyarii, then surely every one of them will be
happy to reunite a youngling with her family.)

(And if they aren't?)

(Then it's best we find that out first-even if it does mean bending the
Linyaari code of ethics slightly. After all, our forebears who devised the
code governing first contacts never envisioned encountering something like the
Khieevi.)

(I should hope not! Who could imagine anything like that?)

(But now that -we know such beings exist, it is only rational to amend our
code accordingly. Ethical interspecies contact should not require that -we put
ourselves into avoidable danger.)

(Ah, but which is more important-our danger, or the fear and anguish we shall
inflict on this hypothetical captive barbarian who will have no idea what is
going on?)

(We can dampen the fear and anguish.)

(Even if it were ethical to mess with its^ mind, we don't know the effects we
might have on its memory. This one may know something about our little lost
one; we daren't use it for a teaching tool.)

Eventually a compromise was reached. They would not attempt long-distance
contact at first, but neither would they kidnap any members of this species.
Nor would they approach whatever sentient beings were on the ship they were
following, for fear that the necessary clouding of their minds would also
cloud their memories of the desired information. Rather, they would ascertain
the ships destination, then intercept and board some other ship headed for the
same destination, relying on signs and whatever telepathic abilities this
species might have to make it clear that they came in peace and meant to harm
no one. If one of the barbarians on the ship would come with them willingly,
they would use it for a language sample and maybe later employ its services as
an envoy. If not, they would let the ship go on its way and try to think of
some other stratagem. In either case, since they would be physically present
on the vessel, they would have the power to heal any fear experienced by the
barbarians during this brief captivity, as well as to blur their memories of
the experience so that they would be hesitant to speak of it to others.

(What if we find we cannot heal this species?) Neeva fretted. (And even if we
can, isn't it just as unethical to fool with their memories as it is to take
one of them captive?)

(Bend, not break, Neeva,) Khaari said firmly.

The shuttle for Maganos was delayed on the launching pad, giving Karina ample
time to suffer from the tasteless decor of deep red and orange that clashed
horribly with her personal colors of lavender and creamy white. And the
shuttle was fully booked, every seat filled, and in some cases overfilled; the
old woman next to her filled up her own space and overflowed into Kanna's. And
somebody quite nearby had been eating Thai food: the whiff of garlic and
cilantro quite overpowered the usual shuttle smell of carpet cleaner and
recycled air. Karina whiled away the long wait for takeoff by explaining to
the old woman next to her, who was going up to try to identify a long-lost
great-nephew or something of the sort, how extremely trying she found
experiences like this, with the crowd of humanity pressing so close against
her.

"I know just what you mean, dearie," the old bat said comfortably. She shifted
position and propped her legs up on Karma's cariyall. "They don't make these
shuttle seats near big enough for full-figured women like us, do they?"

Karma glanced at the old broad's shapeless bulk, bulging out of a shiny
stretch dress two sizes too small and thirty years too young for her, then
smoothed a reassuring hand down the flowing curves of lavender silk that she
herself wore. Surely there could be no comparison . . . could there?

"Oh, it's not physical crowding that troubles me," she said with a little
laugh that someone, a long time ago, had mistakenly likened to the gay tinkle
of water falling onto smooth stones. Karina had been tinkling gaily ever
since. "It is the presence of so many souls, each with its own weight of
misery and secret fears and bodily pains. I am a Sensitive, you see: I can
feel these things." She pressed a hand to her heart.

"Me too," her seatmate agreed amiably. "I feel it most particular after I eat
fried foods. Looks like that's where it's getting you now. A burning pain,
like, right under the breastbone?"

"Not in the slightest," Karina snapped. "Besides, I never eat animal fats or
take alcohol."

"Can't be too careful when you get to our age, can you?" The old woman
chuckled comfortably and reached into a capacious silver-mounted traveling
bag. It looked as if she were bringing out her portable photo album . . . and
it was huge.

Karina decided it would be hopeless to try and explain to the old bat that the
pain she referred to was one of empathy, sharing the sorrows of humanity and
knowing that her own poor talents would never suffice to heal the griefs of
all those she encountered. In sheer self-preservation she was obliged to limit
her healing work to those with whom she felt a certain spiritual oneness. At
first she'd thought her seatmate might turn out to be one of those-the gaudy
display of rainbow-flashing rings and bracelets on her fat white wrists and
fingers suggested someone who could pay adequately for healing whatever pained
her. Now Karina began to think it would be wiser to pass the rest of the
flight in contemplative silence.

She announced that it was time for her personal meditation, leaned back, and
closed her eyes, trying to ignore both the plump thigh pressing against hers
and her seatmate s agreement that a little nap after lunch was a good thing at
their age. Irritation would interfere with the alpha waves, and she wanted to
arrive on Maganos projecting a serene calmness that would reassure this
Acorna. Poor child, she had had no guidance in how to handle her psychic
powers; no wonder she had fled to a remote lunar base! Indeed, a time of
withdrawal from the world might have been most healing for her. But now it was
time for her to come back to the world; Acorna herself must have sensed it,
which was why she had acknowledged Karina's fifty-seventh message. Now she
would take the unicorn girl under her wing, teach her how to use her powers
for the good of all without exhausting herself and, above all, without simply
giving it away as she'd done during her weeks on Kezdet two years ago. The
very thought made Karina feel slightly ill. Never mind; once she and Acorna
were partners the girl would learn better.

Karina fingered her pendant of opalescent moonstone set in silver and
visualized a pink light of love all around herself, reaching out to envelop
Acoma in its roseate glow. She felt an answering pulse, alien and surprisingly
strong, and definitely welcoming. Wonderful! The shuttle couldn't be more than
halfway to Maganos, and already she could feel Acoma's presence ... it had to
be the unicorn girl, didn't it? Karina willed herself to sink deeper into
trance. It was awfully hard to concentrate with that silly speaker squawking
at them about minor course corrections and telling her not to panic. Of course
she wasn't going to panic . . . strange! The seat felt as if it were dropping
away from her. She must be achieving a really good trance, almost
levitational. And there was definitely a sense of an alien presence, very
close now and quite different from the babbling, grumbling minds all around
her.

A firm tap on her shoulder and a warm, mint-flavored gust of breath broke the
trance.

"Have one of these, dearie," her seatmate said, holding out a mint that had
suffered from being clutched too long in a hot, sweaty palm. "Wonderful for
the motion sickness, they say."

Before Karina could explain that she never permitted her mind to experience
such illusions as motion sickness, the shuttle gave a sickening swoop and a
sideways lurch that took her breath away, then steadied. Someone across the
aisle made retching sounds. Karina had to close her eyes and remind herself
firmly that she -was thinking of Higher Things and that motion sickness was a
false messenger. Someone farther up the cabin gave a faint shriek that -was
echoed from various seats around the body of the shuttle. Karina concentrated
fiercely on her mental image ofAcoma, tall and silver-maned and welcoming her
partnerto-be, before she allowed herself to open her eyes and see what the
screaming was about.

Which was -why she, alone of all the shuttle passengers, was neither
frightened nor amazed to see a tall, silver-maned being with a golden horn
stepping lightly through a door that should have been closed and double-locked
until the shuttle entered the artificial atmosphere of Maganos. Outside the
open door could be seen a stable, sourceless, golden glow where there should
have been empty space, blackness, and immediate death for all the shuttle
passengers.
"Don't scream, you idiot, it's only Lady Lukia!" one of the passengers
admonished another, using one of the names by which Acorna had been known
during her brief stay on Kezdet.

"She's comin' to take me, and I don't want to be took!" cried the girl who'd
first screamed, burying her head in her trembling arms.

The unicorn-person said something in a liquid, slightly nasal language, and
touched the girl's head. She looked up, trembling, and met those golden eyes.
Immediately her body relaxed, and she sat back in her seat, limp and smiling
slightly.

Whatever had been done to the girl appeared to be contagious, for within
seconds, the people sitting on either side of her were similarly relaxed and
vacant-eyed.

The old lady beside Karina was clutching the arms of her seat, white-knuckled,
and saying prayers under her breath. Karina realized that the other shuttle
passengers had no idea what was really going on.

"Excuse me," she said tightly, pushing herself out of the seat and starting
for the aisle. "Excuse me, please, thank you, if you could move your knees a
little, sir, thank you. Sorry about that, there's nothing to worry about, it's
me they've come for. ..."

Finally, disheveled and breathless, she reached the aisle amid disgruntled
murmurs about people who didn't have the consideration to go before they got
seated and people who ought to pay for two shuttle seats if they were going to
take up all that space.

foiots, Karina thought. We've been lifted into Another Dimension a.n2 Acorna
has come personally for me, an<) all they can think of if their paltry human
bodies. Throwing up, screaming, anD kvetching about having their toes stepped
on - what must she think of us7 It's up to me to show that some of us are
Above All That.

Smiling resolutely, and ignoring the tiny part of her that squeaked that it,
personally, was worried about its paltry human body and didn't want to go away
with aliens no matter how benevolent, Karina walked down the aisle and held
out one hand gracefully to the unicorn-person.

"It's all right," she said. "I know you've come for me. Don't worry about
these others; they're not used to psychic manifestations on this plane of
being."

Acorna-for surely it must be she: there was no other like her-tilted a long,
shapely face and said something like, "Lllrivhanyithalli? "

"Charmed, I'm sure," Karina replied. Why hadn't anyone mentioned that Acorna
didn't speak Basic Interlingua? Oh, well, they could communicate on a psychic
level. She beamed and projected, as strongly as she could, the image of
herself and Acorna together and surrounded by the rosy pink light of perfect
love and accord. When Acorna still looked puzzled, she put one hand to her
moonstone pendant and asked it to lend her its energies for the projection.

Acorna turned away from her!

(See, Neeva? This one wants to come with us! Can't you sense it?)

(It feels confused to me. If it can thought-talk at all, it's doing so very
weakly. Are you sure about what it wants?)

(Thariinye, I'm not so sure either,) put in Melireenya. (From your
thought-images, it seems to be baring its teeth. In carnivores, isn't that
usually a threat?)

(Not in these carnivores.) Thariinye had watched randomly captured vids from
intercepted satellite transmissions while they had followed the other ship
across space to the lunar base where it had landed. (They bare their teeth to
indicate sociability and greeting.)

(Oh, all right, if you say so. Anyway, I suppose we can reassure it later.)

Karina let out a sigh of relief as Acorna turned those large golden eyes back
upon her and extended a ... hand? Whatever- the digits were thick and clumsy
compared to human fingers, but soft like a hand. Karina grasped the offered
hand and felt a twinge of unease. Was she picking up some trouble from Acoma's
mind? Or was it the fact that Acorna s eyes were golden, not silver as in the
stories? Or was it the fact that she seemed taller and more muscular than
Karina had pictured her? Almost masculine in her aura. Perhaps it was the
effect of the loose navy blue tunic she wore; it was so severe-looking, not
the way you'd expect a young innocent girl to dress-unicorn or no. Well,
perhaps Karina had been Sent to teach Acorna how to dress . . . among other
things.

"Just a minute," she said firmly when Acorna beckoned her toward the open
door. "I need to get my bag."

That occasioned another interlude of panting, wriggling, and apologizing as
Karina fished her carryall out from among other passengers' feet. She emerged
from the struggle flushed and anxious that Acorna would have become impatient,
so she did not demur when Acorna gestured that she was to go first up the
aisle and through the door. The golden glow outside the door blinded her, and
she thought about Higher Powers and stepped into it with complete -well,
nearly complete - Love and Trust anyway.

Only when the other ship appeared in the glowing light, when she saw even more
unicorn-people excitedly awaiting her appearance, did Karina realize that she
was just as badly off as the other passengers on the shuttle.

She didn't have a clue what was really going on.

four

Rudhlma, Unified Federation Date 334.05.17

While the Starfarer vessel was orbiting Rushima, it was not at the moment in a
position to see the arrival of t}ie Aca^ecki. Nor did Calum bother to check on
any orbiting spacecraft since the Galacticapedia resume on Rushima indicated
the planet was in the early stages of its agricultural development and had
only a message beacon. As he and Acorna saw no need to leave a message that
would undoubtedly not be retrieved until whenever the colony remembered to
look for messages, they thought they would simply identify a decent-sized
settlement and land there. Rushima, being new with only one generation born
on-planet, would not be startled or surprised by a single ship arriving. They
could pay for anything they needed by transferring credits from the Li Alining
Company to whatever credit institution the Rushimese nominated.

But as the Aca^ecki made its approach, Acorna frowned. "This is the
sickest-looking agricultural planet I have ever seen. Whatever can they be
growing? It looks all brown, and yet this is the summer for this hemisphere.
Something should look green. Even the forests look sick."

"You're right. Maybe we should try the northern hemisphere. This planet, it
says right here"-Calum pointed to the entry from Galactic which was displayed
on another screen- "has little axial tilt, so it stays more or less the same
temperate climate year-round. Hmm."

As they got closer, into the atmosphere, they spotted larger lake areas than
were apparent in the official entry orbital scans. "What could have happened?"
Acorna said. "Floods?" "Sure looks like 'em," Calum had to agree. "But
planetwide?

That just doesn't figure into"-he tapped out some directions to the screen
showing the Galactic - "the sort of weather they're supposed to have."

Then they overflew a vast wasteland with withered trees which had given up the
struggle to survive without the rain they required. "If they don't do
something quickly, erosion will ruin this land forever," Acoma said, for she
had studied ecology along with many other subjects during her years aboard the
mining ship. They continued on, over a low range of mountains, covered with
sun-seared vegetation.

"Noah, you been at it again?" Calum said facetiously, to cover his shock at
the devastation: one area of land drowning next to one that had been sun-baked
to extinction.

"There's a sizable settlement over there, to the right, Calum. And what looks
like an airfield."

As they closed the distance, Calum snorted. "A very wet airfield, but safe
enough for us to land on. The settlement s not far away.

"Not far for aquatic animals," he amended later, when they opened the outer
hatch and surveyed the lake which was the field: a rather muddy lake since
their landing had stirred up the drowned soil.

"Phew!" Calum said, turning his head away from the smell that now rose to
their nostrils. Acorna s nose twitched, but her main concern was food, not
water.

"What's happened?" she asked. "Think the soaking's reached the sewage-disposal
units?"

He pinched his nostrils. "I'll just get me a set of plugs." He paused as he
passed Acorna: there were no plugs for her wider nostrils. But then she wasn't
as particular about smells, bad or good, as he was. She seemed to like them
all-the more intense, the better.

"There's no one around, either," Acorna said, shielding her eyes to peer
around and adjusting to the odor. "I don't understand this."

Her digestive juices gurgled in complaint. She hadn't seen a need to ration
what remained edible on board and had really been looking forward to a decent
graze on Rushima. As far as her far-seeing eyes could perceive, there wasn't
that much to tempt her. But she needed to eat something.

"Trees, over there, Acorna," Calum said, pointing beyond and behind the ship
toward a distant hillock. "Look! You go see if there's anything edible there.
I'll"-he looked down at the water surrounding them-"wade over to the buildings
and see what I can see. Maybe even ground transport . . . delete that:

what we'd require is aquatic transport." He looked at the landing ramp.
"Doesn't look all that deep." The ramp's edge was only centimeters into the
flood.

Blithely he stepped off, into water up to his ankles. The next step had him in
water up to his knees. And he grinned sheepishly back at Acorna.

"Must've been a rut or something," he said.

"Well, I can at least help us see where we're going," she said, and, kneeling
on the ramp, bent over so that her horn touched the water. A few swirling
motions and the silty, smelly floodplain cleared magically. She dropped her
nose into the clear water and drank. "Hmm, rather nice without the effluvium.
There were fertilizers dissolved in the water, too."

"Really? They must be in bad shape here. One-half the planet burned to a crisp
and the rest of the real estate underwater. Something's peculiar. That's
unnatural."

Acorna stepped off the ramp. "It feels cool around my hooves." She grinned
with childlike pleasure. She rarely used footwear on the ship. "I shan't be
long. Now that I can see -where I'm going, it's all about fetlock height
across to the hill."

With that, she started off, splashing through the water at a dead run,
occasionally leaping a few strides, her delighted laughter trickling back to
him.   Now that he could see through the water, Calum stepped over the minor
ruts that had nearly sunk him before Acorna purified things. The grooves in
the dirt had probably been made by vehicle wheels on the soft ground of the
landing area. Odd that they wouldn't have paved this area over with something
solid. Still, this was a new colony, and most likely it didn't have time or
money for refinements.

Time or money for much at all, he decided when he saw the condition of the
airfield buildings. They had an uninhabited and disused look to them, with
dead vines clinging to the walls. The plants were little more than mushy
stalks that hadn't yet fallen to join the rest of the plant in the mud. The
building was on slightly higher ground, so the water had not yet quite reached
it ... although it looked to have been flooded quite recently, perhaps during
whatever disaster dumped all this water on what was supposed to have been
growing here. A badly warped and distorted sign over the door, half-covered
with mold, read,

LOADING CENTER WEST-AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

When he touched the door panel, it was slimy. Wiping his hand, he pressed
harder for admittance, and, creaking badly, the door gradually opened.
Obviously no one had been here for yonks. It must have been in use once, for
there were benches, tables, openings in the sidewall which had led to a ticket
counter, and to a weighing office. The size of the platform suggested heavy
cargoes had been shifted through here.

Only one door was locked, and that gave -with just a little push, as the
damp-soaked locking apparatus fell from the softened wood. Calum had hit pay
dirt-he'd found the main office, to judge by all the files. Someone had spent
time and energy to pile the plastic cabinets on footings to keep them above
water level.
The room had several communication devices, good ones, but Calum had to wonder
if they were still serviceable under all the mold. He brushed as much gunk as
he could away and depressed the com toggle. It clicked uselessly several times
before he decided that there was nothing powering it.

Frowning, he went back outside to see solar panels on the roof. Not much would
rot or otherwise damage the materials from which such panels were usually
manufactured, but they did have to have at least four hours of sun to operate.
Clouds were already gathering to the west. Rather fast, he thought,
remembering they'd landed in clear skies and hadn't even seen a weather front
moving in on their approach from the west. Odd that! And there wasn't so much
as a breeze to ruffle the flooded field.

He caught sight of Acorna in her grazing posture and was delighted that she,
at least, had had some luck. He hoped he'd have his share as well. There had
to be something wrong for the solar panels to fail. Possibly the cable
connecting the panels to the reservoir had perished. Then he spotted the
ladder attached to the gable end of the roof, which would give him access to
the panels. He'd just check. Sure enough, the cable connections had fallen
away from the rain-soft wood, and the cable itself lay half in a puddle, the
insulation rotting away from it. Well, he had plenty of cable that size back
at the ship, so he climbed down and splashed to the AcaSecki, got a belt of
the tools he'd need, and waded back to the building.

It didn't take him long to splice the cable and, since he rather thought
there'd been some sunlight, maybe he could just rouse someone on this planet
on the com unit. He headed into the rundown building. Power he had, and he
sent a brief message, asking to be met by someone in authority at the field so
he could transact business in acquiring new seeds for a hydroponics tank
system. Then he trudged back to the AccSecki to get himself a bit of lunch and
await the arrival of anyone who'd heard the call.

That was why he didn't see Acorna waving frantically in his direction, or hear
her distant voice trying to warn him of the flotilla of assorted water vessels
heading in his direction, bristling with all sorts of makeshift weapons. The
first he knew of danger was an unfriendly challenge from the leading boat:

Hold it right there, y'damned pirate!"

Whoops, Calum thought, suspecting that Kezdet's new improved interstellar
reputation might not have spread as far as Rushima. For the first time he felt
fervently grateful for the hasty departure that had precluded his suggesting
that Mercy might accompany them on the journey-ostensibly to provide Acorna
with feminine company, that would have been his excuse. His sweet, gentle
Mercy had already been exposed to too many dangers in her time -as a spy for
the Child Liberation League within the offices of the corrupt Kezdet police.
She didn't need to deal with floods, famine, riots, and whatever else was now
coming their way, clearly spoiling for a fight.

He girded himself quickly with an arms belt, snapped on the field that would
keep them outside and him safely within the ship, and just made it to the
hatch before the first of the paddled boats arrived with its cargo of many men
and women. Most of them were carrying sharp-edged or heavy tools; all of them
looked distinctly unfriendly. What had ticked them off so quickly? Were they
that serious about that AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, sign on the derelict
loading shed?

"Hold it there yourselves," he called, raising both arms to show that he was
not holding a weapon. Those at his belt could be clearly seen, and he wanted
to keep folks far enough away from the ramp so that he could grab a stunner if
he needed to.

"I'm Calum Baird ottheAcaSecki. We've had a 'ponies failure and need to buy
plants and seeds from you."

"Plants and seeds, he wants," a bearded man cried, laughing almost
hysterically. That was the general mood of those who poled or paddled their
craft to surround the AcaDecki. They kept repeating his words with variations
of derision and angry frustration.

"This is Rushima, isn't it?" Calum asked, perplexed. "What you bastards have
left of Rushima, you mean," the spokesman said, and the muttered growls of his
companions did nothing to reassure him as to the general hostile mood.

"We're from Maganos Moon Base at Kezdet on our way to Coma Berenices on a
private mission," Calum went on, making his voice sound as reasonable as he
could even though he was scared stiff. Why hadn't he listened to Pal about
defense systems? Not that anything a spaceship carried would have been useful
in his present circumstances.

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on," growled the spokesman.

"Hey, now, he could be telling the truth," a tenor voice suggested. A young
man in a raft with ten-centimeter sides glided to the side of the Aca()eckt,
and read out their current alpha-numeric identification code. "That's not a
Starfarer ID. Could be from Kezdet."

"So could half the pirates in the galaxy," said the leader, who evidently was
all too aware of Kezdet's lax registration laws, which attracted all sorts of
illicit business, "and if those Starfarers are as far-flung as they keep
telling us they are, could be one of theirs anyhow. But it's shortly going to
be ours. ..." There was movement as some of the bigger men slipped into the
water and started for the ramp.

"Hey, the water out here's clear," awoman said, astonishment and delight in
her voice. She scooped up a handful, tasted it cautiously, and let out a
·whoop. "How'dyou do this, mister?"

Immediately others were sampling the water. And then almost everyone, at the
risk of tipping over their basically fragile craft, buried their faces to
drink so thirstily that the sight transfixed Calum.

Water, water, everywhere nor any Drop to Drink-the phrase popped in from some
distant corner of his brain.

"I did it." Acorna stepped gracefully around the after section of the ship.
She also held her hands up, not that she could have hidden anything in the
short, skintight tunic she was wearing.

"Purifying water is one of our skills."

Calum closed his eyes in what could have been prayerful exhortation. Acorna
had learned a great deal about humans during her experiences 'with Kisia
Manjari and Didi Badini's attempts to kill her, but she was still far too
trusting. These people might have softened a little during their brief talk,
but they had started out as a mob out for vengeance. And, if purifying water
just happened to be a must for this section of a waterlogged planet, Acorna
might find herself an unwilling resident of Rushima.

At least she had said "our," instead of "my" skills, so they might not be
aware that she had the power to cleanse the water all by herself.

He eased himself slightly to the right side, where the controls were. If she
could just get close enough to dive through the hatch, he could have the field
off and on before anyone else could capture her. He gave her the slightest
signal -with the fingers of one hand, trying to convey the necessity of
boarding the ship as quickly as possible. Even the few who were out of their
boats wouldn't be able to move as quickly through the water as Acorna could.

"Can you tell us what has happened to your planet? For something most
disastrous has," she said in her sweet and calming voice. Kven Calum began to
feel more serene, less anxious. He blinked. With water still dribbling down
the corners of his mouth, the spokesman regarded her with considerably less
animosity than he had accorded Calum.

"Them Starfarers"-he ^erked a finger heavenward- "they're running a bloody
bandulu bidness." "Huh?"

"Protection racket," the young man who'd read iA\e AcaSecki's registration
translated. "They offered to give us weather-prediction services for a fee,
and when we said we didn't need 'em as our climate is so even- "

"That baggy on the com - "

"Woman," the younger man interpreted. "Give a nasty snigger, she did, and said
we might be getting some climate changes. We've had nothing but rain since
then . . . drowned all our winter crops before we could harvest anything, and
there's no point in trying to raise anything in this." He pointed to the
floodland. "And if we tried rice, they'd fry us."

"WHO?" Calum and Acorna said with such incredulity and outrage that their
chorus provided more evidence of their innocence than any eloquence.

"Starfarers," was the universal reply. "They've been making a mess of the
weather."

"Starfarers? I thought they -were just a political protest group," Calum said.

"They've been 'making it rain'?" Acorna was still dumbfounded and glanced at
Calum, but she was also surreptitiously moving nearer the ramp.

"Can you manipulate weather like that?" she asked Calum with such incredulity
that it provoked sour laughter from several sources.

"Not with any accuracy," Calum said, "and you have to work off existing
weather conditions."

The spokesman gave a hollow laugh. "Well, then, they got 'em some kin' obeah
beyond any you know. They got half our fields soaked and t'other half dried up
like a desert, and it ain't gonna get better till we pays up."

"That's extortion," Acorna said indignantly. She had learned a good deal about
extortion, blackmail, and such terrorizing activities on Kezdet, but those had
been industrial or economic, not ecological. There was humorless laughter from
the crowd, but Calum was relieved that the belligerence apparent at their
arrival seemed to have eased.

"And how'd you fix the com unit? " the spokesman said.

"A new length of cable was all it needed, and the sun we had this morning."
"First sun we've seen in yonks." Then the man gestured to the flooded land.
"Not that it'll do much good. We're promised"-and his expression was sour-". .
. another six inches of rain if we fail to accept their 'protection.'"

"You say this has been going on since the Starfarers arrived?" Calum asked.
"By the way, I'm Calum Baird, Li Moon Alining Enterprises, and this lovely
lady is Acorna DelszakiHarakamian."

"Know those names," the younger man said. "You're connected with the House
Harakamian?" he asked Acorna, and didn't seem to realize that she had edged
closer to the side of the ship, nearer the ramp.

"Mr. Delszaki Li and the House Harakamian are my guardians," she said proudly.
"If you know them, then you realize that we have nothing whatever to do with .
. . this!"

"I'm Joshua Flouse, mayor of this." He gestured contemptuously at the lake.
"Is that purifier device of yours on the market? "

"Why, yes, it is," Acorna said with a bright smile, taking one step closer to
the ramp. "I'll just get you one, shall I?"

Calum's left hand depressed the field-generator switch, and he gave her a nod.
With a nimble and unexpected leap, she was on the ramp and moving inside while
Calum reinstated the protective field just in time to slow the startled
Flouse, who had lunged forward after Acorna only to find his arms slowed as if
swimming through cold molasses.

"That is," Calum said crisply, feeling more able to take a firni line now that
Acorna was safe, "we'll trade our water-purification services for
seeds-legumes and broad-leafed greens for choice. Oh, and zinc and copper
sulfates to replace the trace elements our system accidentally dumped. We'd
only need small quantities."

Flouse s expression showed his disappointment at Acorna s escape. But she was
smiling at him so charmingly that he shook his head, abashed, and shrugged.

"Whaddawe got left?" he asked, turning to those in the boats around him.

"Just about everything we've been able to keep dry enough to plant if we ever
get the chance," a woman said. "But right now I'd settle for clean water.
Josh."

"We'll also undertake to inform the authorities of these Starfarers who are
blackmailing you," Calum said. "Unauthorized interference with a developing
planet is a serious offense."

"Tell them!" half a dozen voices chorused as even more fingers pointed
skyward.

Joshua pointed to the group in one of the motorized boats. "Jason?" he called,
and the man at the tiller answered with a loud"Yo!"

"You got the security code. Get us some chicka-chicka peas and greens seeds.
And bring a few seedling chard and rhubarbs. And a canister of Solution B." He
turned back to Calum and Acoma, showing his eagerness to complete the deal.
"Anything else?"

"You wouldn't happen to have alfalfa seeds, would you?" Acorna asked
wistfully.

"A sack of alfalfa it is, ma'am. Now, lemme see this purifier of yours'

"I'll just get one," she said, and before Calum could ask her what the hell
she had in mind, she was down the companionway, moving in the direction of the
storage compartment.

When Calum turned back to the flotilla, he saw that some children were
splashing about in clear water up to their knees, laughing as they whooshed
water at each other.

"It's been lack of clean water that's been the worst part to bear," Flouse
said, shaking his head. "Boiled water isn't the same, and we couldn't even
bathe or wash clothes without the smell staying in. Flooded out our sewage
system by the third week, and we hadn't a chance of stopping it. Some
folks"-Flouse jerked his head in a northerly direction-"have tried sending
tankers just to get our water to keep crops going, but the convoys keep
getting blown up by lightning. Midday, at that, and not a blink of warning.
Just zap!" - he brought both hands together in a resounding slap that
momentarily stopped the kids playing - "whole damned convoy's crisped."

"How do they expect you to pay them if they've ruined your economy? "

"They'll lift the weather controls if we agree to supply them with all their
food and the other agricultural stuff we were producing to pay off our
colonial debts."

Calum nodded, understanding the basic crunch of producing sufficient to feed
themselves with an excess to export to acquit the indebtedness of the initial
expense of colonial expansion.

"Only they're going to send . . . administrators to see that each town and
county supplies the quotas they're setting."

From the dolorous expression on the faces of Flouse and the others, Calum
quickly saw that the Rushimese would be left with barely enough to feed their
own families. "Any idea where they came from?" "Dunno. They're mighty short on
explanations." They both could hear metallic whangs and bangs echoing down the
companionway, and Calum had to pretend he knew exactly what Acorna was doing .
. . when he was dying of suspense and anxiety.

But while she was contrapting whatever she was making, he found out all he
could extract from Flouse and the others. The return of the launch coincided
with Acorna's reappearance at the hatch, carrying a length of ordinary
three-centimeter pipe, with valves on each end which were obviously meant to
be attached to an intake point of the main town water supply.   "Now, this
purifier has interstellar patents from here to the last century," Acorna said,
pointing to the center piece. "I wouldn't try to investigate, as the purifier
is also delicate-useless once it has been unsealed. But I can guarantee that
any water running through the purifier will come out one hundred percent
pure."

The launch slowed beside the ramp and willing hands transferred the seeds,
seedlings, and nutrient canister to Calum just as Acorna placed the "purifier"
in Flouse's eager hands. That was when he noticed the small slice that she had
taken from her horn. Was she going to be read a riot act when they were safely
away from here!!! Calum did not forget to switch back on the field that
separated them from the crowd. But they had what they needed, and so did the
Aca()eck.l.
"I promise you, we'll send out word of this to the authorities as soon as
we're clear of planetary interference," Calum said. "Now, if you'll just step
back, we'd best be off."

Acorna had disappeared the instant she had the 'ponies' replacements, so it
was up to him to get them safely away.

Calum carefully lifted the AcaSecki in low-energy mode before touching the
thrusters lightly enough to move far enough away from the flooded land to
start an ascent. He wasn't sure who he was maddest at: Acorna for using a
piece of her own self to provide the purification for those poor farmers, or
the frigging bastards holding an entire world to ransom with weather tricks.
And where had they gotten such tricks FROM in the first place?

He was far too busy laying in a course to access the Galacticapedia, but he
would as soon as he had a finger free. As far as he knew, there was no process
that could deliver rain to one area of a planet, lightning on command to
another, and relentless sun to bake a third. That was undoubtedly why he
didn't check the screen until he felt the unmistakable yank of a tractor beam
... a very powerful tractor beam . . . snatching the AcaSeckl right off her
ascent and inexorably into the maw of a massive spaceship, no doubt owned and
manned by the Starfarers.

five

Haven, Unified Federation Date 334.05.17

Calum tried desperately to send a Mayday to Maganos, but they'd been ahead of
him all along, and his signal bounced harmlessly back.

Calum was damning himself left, right, and center before Acorna came running
to the bridge.

"What are you doing, Calum? I nearly lost the can ..." Her complaint trailed
off as the lights from their captor nearly blinded her.

"The Starfarers?"

"Sorry about this, Acorna," he said, mortified. "Rafik and Gill would never
have been so stupid as not to check the trajectory, much less the proximity
screens."

"Well, I've a few choice words for such scummy piratical opportunists. ..."

She was so angry her horn glowed, and Calum buried his head in his arms. He'd
done it now. Truly he'd done it. How was he going to save Acorna from this? He
only hoped the Starfarers had been so busy with their felonious extortion that
no hint of a strange species with a horn had reached their com unit.

"Acorna," and his voice cracked in his anxiety, "could you pretend to be a
pet?"

"A pet?"

"It's the only thing I can think of."

Acorna stood very still, her tall form dwarfing him in the pilot's chair. She
gave a little sniff, her wide silvery eyes regarding him. "I don't think
they'd buy that."                    i
"Then let's play it as cool as possible."

"That makes sense."

"And this time you've never heard of Delszaki Li and House Harakamian. When I
can think what they'd hold Hafiz up for, much less Mr. Li, my heart fails me."

"You've made a very good point."

The AcaSeckl shivered, if a metal ship can be said to do such a thing, as she
was locked into place aboard their captor.

"While I can't be a pet, Calum, I can be a Didi," she said, and was off down
the corridor, shouting over one shoulder, "You be the pet, this time, Calum.
Just bright enough to speak when spoken to."

He reviewed that in his mind as he felt other things happening to
?????????????, like the clang of metal against the main hatch. They were
unlikely to be able to break through, but what if they decided to blow or
shoot the hatch off? Better to surrender and maintain the ship intact. He
quickly keyed in a code and turned off the system with the special switch he
himself had installed. Let 'em try to break that, he thought with some
satisfaction.

Then he switched on the exterior speakers. "Wait a damned minute, willya?" He
flipped off the security lock on the hatch. Anyone could open it now from
outside. "I'm coming. I'm coming. Doan like no one messing up the ship. My
Didi'll get back at me if'n you do."

He was at the hatch when the first of the Starfarers showed up, and he did not
like the look on this surly bunch of musclebounds at all.

"Hey, boys, take it easy. The Didi's coming." He waved them on in as if he
weren't the least bit impressed by their menacing appearance.

The leader backhanded him with such efficiency that he careened from side to
side of the narrow passageway before falling in an embarrassing heap to the
deck.

"Really!" came the sultry remonstrance from an Acorna Calum didn't recognize.
He blinked, as much to clear the shock of that backhanded blow as to make sure
his eyes still functioned. "Was that necessary? Poor Calum doesn't have many
brains anyway, and the ones he's got don't need to be rattled. He'll do
whatever you tell him anyway. He's been trained to."

The attention of the heavies was immediately focused on the vision in black.
Calum vaguely remembered Judit, Mercy, and Acorna giggling over some of the
outfits that had been concocted to either emphasize or hide her horn. This
outfit was not only skintight, but the high collar disguised the long fall of
Acorna's silvery mane. It was cleverly attached to the ravishing black hat
which sat at a jaunty angle on Acorna's head. The peaked front completely hid
the horn and almost covered her right eye.

"Let me introduce myself: Badini, the Didi ofKezdets best..." she paused, her
voice heavy with significance, ". . . establishment. You wouldn't happen to
have any children you consider excess baggage, would you? They certainly
didn't down there." She pointed a contemptuous gloved hand down, indicating
Rushima, which they had so obviously just left. Acorna's gloves effectively
disguised the differences in her hands, and her cloven hooves were hidden
within the apparently stack-soled boots just visible under her long
pantaloons.

"What's a Didi?"

A disembodied voice echoed outside. "Bring them aboard. I want to question
them if they've been on Rushima," said a woman's voice.

"Anything you say," drawled Acorna's imitation Didi Badini in what Calum
decided was an excellent imitation of the real bonk-shop owner's voice.

With an elegant swaying step, Acorna the "Didi" made her way past the first of
the guards, deliberately brushing against him in such an enticing fashion that
Calum hoped she wasn't overdoing her role.

"I suppose you'd better come, too," she said, deigning to notice Calum just
before she went through the hatch. She put lust the right inflection in her
voice to suggest to anyone listening that Calum was of no importance whatever.

Of such little importance, in fact, that when he had been given the most
cursory glance by the hard-faced woman standing slightly ahead of two obvious
henchmen, he was immediately hauled away, probably by the man who had
backhanded him. As his collar was tightly held by whoever kept pushing him
forward, he couldn't be sure. But he was pushed down a few miles of antigrav
tubes to the bowels of the enormous spaceship and shoved into a bare cell. It
was equipped with two slabs of some plastic, strapped up against opposing
walls, a sanitary appliance, and that was all. Not even a water supply.

"Nor any Drop to Drink," he murmured, then reminded himself that this cell was
likely bugged. So he released the fastening on one slab and sat down on it.
And began to worry about Acorna. Could she pull off her fancy-dress persona?
And what good would it do? These people were the type who'd think nothing of
spacing superfluous bodies. He was suddenly not so happy to have been cast in
the role of "expendably unimportant."

"WHERE did you say you came from?" asked one of the three facing her.

"Kezdet," Acorna promptly replied. "I'm looking for . . . replacements."

"Replacements for what?" the woman asked, but the first man laughed.

"Dirtsiders need certain types of entertainment I'm sure this woman provides,
Nueva."

"Oh. And you had no luck on Rushima?" This seemed to amuse the woman.

Acorna snorted contemptuously. "If it isn't flooded out, its desert or burned
out. Not what I was toFd to expect," Acorna said indignantly. "No one would
even come out to speak to us, no matter where we landed. Ruined one outfit in
the wet, and another has sand just driven into the seams." She let her voice
flatten with annoyance. "Wasted time and fuel. As I said, I'm Didi Badini.
..." She cocked her head, as if she expected to be informed of her
interrogator's name.

"Welcome to the Haven, Didi Badini. I am Captain Nueva of the Starfarers."

"You wouldn't happen to have a few excess . . . children, or females ... or
even that sort of male type ... I could relieve you of?" Acorna said.

"We've . . . sort of ... relieved ourselves of the excess."
That was when Acorna realized she and Calum were in big trouble. Maybe she
should have remained Acorna DelszakiHarakamian, and worth a sizable ransom.

"Really," she replied as if amused at such a mutual circumstance, "then, if
you'll just return my . . . my little friend, we'll be on our way. I really do
need to find a few replacements, you know. Tastes get jaded so quickly."

Nueva made a motion, and two of the guards behind her grabbed Acorna by the
arms. She could have thrown them off easily enough, being far stronger than
she looked, but unless she also had Calum, displaying any of her discreetly
concealed abilities was futile and possibly dangerous to them both. As she was
turned and taken off in the direction Calum had been hauled, she saw that the
AcaDeckl was tightly held by deck clamps fore and aft.

"Let's see how quickly your tastes jade," Nueva said, with an unpleasant
laugh.

Over her shoulder, Acorna saw Nueva signal a waiting group of men and women,
carrying various kinds of testing equipment and tools, to board the ship.

Acorna didn't think that Calum would have forgotten to disable the AcaSecki
before he'd opened the hatch. Of course, a personality like Nueva-and she made
Kisia Manjari seem angelic in comparison -would have ways of extracting the
information she -wanted.

Nor was she, as she had half hoped, flung into the same cell as her guardian.
Five of the doors on the narrow aisle she was pushed to were blue with
force-field lights. So another timeconsuming puzzle would keep her from being
totally jaded. Insane, maybe, but not jaded. Did they fill the cells in order?
Or had Calum "een pushed into the first empty one . . . since this Nueva
person had boasted of relieving herself of excess personnel?   After using the
sanitary appliance, -with a deft but concealing shift of her pantaloons,
Acorna unfastened one of the two slabs and lay down on it. She also decided to
keep in character. She didn't doubt for a moment that anything she said would
be monitored. So why had they separated her from Calum? Two people in the same
fix would certainly exchange information. Oh, dear, perhaps she had laid it on
a bit thick that Calum was useless. At that moment she would have given
anything to be comforted by her "uncle."

She was roused from a restless sleep by a hissing noise and, as she lay prone
on the comfortless slab, her face was turned to the metal ceiling . . . and
the open vent. A thin, mournful face ·was framed within the vent. A grubby
thin finger was placed across the lips of a tear-stained and very dirty face.
But Acorna was not in a mood to quibble; she welcomed any friendly contact
right then.

The child slowly let a rope down through the opening. She stood on the slab,
thinking to assist by being closer to the vent. But instead the kid made
violent gestures for her to refasten the slab to the wall.

As if she'd never been there. Good thinking. There seemed to be just enough
rope to reach her outstretched hands.

If this if all the've got, we'll never reach Calum even with the slab down,
she thought.

She heard a soft, interrogative "Mmm?" from above, as if her rescuer was
afraid to say out loud, "Come on, what are you waiting for?" Somewhat
dubiously, Acorna gave a tentative pull on the rope. The thin youngster who
was her unexpected savior couldn't have enough muscle to pull her up, light as
she was. But he had tied the rope to something reassuringly secure. Hand over
hand, she pulled herself up, grasping his hand as she reached the frame and
angled her shoulders to the diagonal of the vent. Despite that, she scraped
her arms badly getting through.

There was only the light from the narrow vent to see with. It reflected off a
tube wall that wasn't very big, so she had to sort of slither the rest of her
body out of the cell. Her rescuer quietly replaced the vent grill, screwed the
fasteners back in, and began to re-coil his rope. Once more he put his finger
to his lips, then began to wriggle along the tube, looking back once to
indicate she was to follow.

Fortunately, Acorna's gown was made of a fabric much more durable than it
looked, but the fashionable boots that hid her oddly shaped feet were very
clumsy and might make enough noise to be heard. How she finally got them off
she never knew because it involved contortions of her lithe body she'd never
had to make before, even in her self-defense exercises. Lying on her back, she
sort of inched her feet up to where she could grab the boots and untie the
laces. She would have loved to abandon them right there, but it seemed unwise
to leave this proof of her escape route. Turning back on her stomach, she
managed to tie the boots around her waist to keep them from hitting the tube
walls. "Good idea," her rescuer approved in a bare thread of a whisper. After
that they made better, and much quieter, progress along the tube. She wondered
once or twice if her blood pounded more loudly than her body slithered, but no
alarm was sounded.

She did sneak a peek through the other vents, but Calum was not in any of the
three cells she could see into. The apathy of the detainees did nothing to
reassure her about his safety.

They came to an intersecting tube, and the boy swung his body expertly to the
left and wriggled down it. How long she followed him in this snakelike fashion
Acorna had no idea, but suddenly they were in a much wider place-wider by
comparison, at least-and she could sit without hitting her head on the
ceiling. She was breathless and dry-mouthed from all her exertion.

"It's safe enough here. We can talk now," her savior said, but his voice was
only a faintly raised whisper, warning her that their "safety" was only
relative.

"What about Calum?" she whispered back.

"Who?"

"My . . . pilot."

The boy shook his head. "Must have been held in another area. I didn't see
anybody but you and some of our own people."   Acorna's heart sank at this
information, but she tried to put a brave face on it. "We must search for
him," she said. "But first, I should thank you for rescuing me. I am Acorna.
..." She let her voice trail off as she could not decide how else to identify
herself. Was it safe to tell this unknown rescuer of her connection with the
houses of Harakamian and Li? It might be better to find out a little more
about him first.

"I'm Market Illart. My father . . ." He gulped. "They ... the ones who caught
you . . . they're not Starfarers, not really. They were refugees we were
helping out, and then that Nueva had a coup and spaced practic'ly all of the
First Gen. I couldn't do anything, they'd locked the cabins. I couldn't do
anything," he repeated, his voice rising dangerously.

"No, of course you could not," Acorna said at once, though she was not at all
clear on the situation-except that her rescuer, having shed his self-confident
air, was clearly only a boy, a lost youngling in need of comfort. Despite, or
perhaps because of, her sympathetic reassurance, Markel suddenly crumpled into
sobs, even though he tried very hard to suppress them.

Immediately Acorna transferred herself to his side of their refuge and pulled
him into her arms. Despite the hat, which had somehow remained in place
through all her recent gyrations, she could touch his head with her concealed
horn, to help relieve his anguish. The hands that he held to his face to
muffle his sobs were bruised and bloodied as well as filthy. She could, and
did, heal them. If he was to be of any further assistance to her, he needed to
be whole. She left the dirt, having no water anyhow to clean him up. That
reminded her of her own thirst.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear," she said, hoping that he could feel the
sympathy and reassurance she longed to give him. "How long ago did this
happen?"

"Days, weeks, months it could be. It ... it isn't easy to keep track of time
up here." His voice wobbled dangerously.

"No, it certainly wouldn't be," Acorna agreed at once, "and I can't tell you
how grateful I am to you for rescuing me."

"I had to, if I could. I'll do anything I can to get back at them for my
father." He pressed his lips together as if holding back another outburst of
unmanly sobs. "And they're going to make you tell them how they can get
control of that ship of yours. It's a beauty."

"How would you know that? "

Markel's eyes lit up, and for a moment he seemed to have put aside his grief
and his too-adult mannerisms, to be a normal cocky teenager enjoying a chance
to boast of his expertise. "Oh, I know every tube and conduit in this ship. I
can go anywhere, and I can even listen in on their corns. They think they're
so smart. Well, they're not all THAT smart. I even know where they came from.
They got on board the Haven by pretending to be Palomellese political
refugees, but what really happened was Palomella decided to dump its worst
criminals and scarnmed us into taking them on. That Nueva was running an
extortion racket on Palomella, and now she's trying the same thing on the
Haven. If only I'd warned Dad before-" He broke off and swallowed hard.

Acorna realized he was fighting back a sob, but the gesture still made her
thirsty. She tried to moisten her mouth by running her tongue over the tissue,
but she really needed some water. She thought rather wistfully of all the
water they had so casually left behind.

"You wouldn't possibly have access to some water, would you?"

"Ha! I have access to anything I want," Markel said. "For all the good it does
..."

Acorna sensed that he needed bolstering up, needed to think more about what he
could do and less about the past that he could not change.

"I'm very thirsty," she said wistfully. "And, when I think of the floods there
were down on Rushima. ..."
He reached behind his back and pulled out a water bottle, complete with
nipple, the kind used for free-fall supplies.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Acorna said, and there was no need to feign pleasure
for Markel's sake. She enjoyed a long, luxurious drink of the water; it tasted
stale and metallic, and she would have liked to purify it before drinking, but
she didn't want to insult the boy.   "Go ahead," Markel urged when she paused
after that first restorative drink. You can have all of it," he added with a
casual flick of his ringers. "I've got more whenever you need it. Are you
hungry?"

"Why, I am. Don't tell me you can find food, too! Is there anything you don't
know about this ship?" She exaggerated her admiring tone slightly and saw the
praise work on Markel as the water had done on her, restoring the parched
tissues of his soul. "Only ..." she thought to warn him before he made
promises he wouldn't be able to keep, "... I cannot eat meat; only grains and
vegetables."

Markel looked slightly relieved at this statement. "That's as well because
it's much easier to snitch plants than anything else, like cooked food. Finish
your drink. We're not far from the 'ponies."

Acorna's stomach made a joyful noise she was certain would echo down the
tubes, but Markel had already turned to lead her to food. She slipped the
bottle into one other boots-as long as she had to drag these things along, at
least they could be useful as carriers. The laces were long . . . maybe if she
could add them to Markel's rope, they'd be long enough to reach Calum.

Over the other reeks of the ship, Acorna smelled vegetation: lots and lots of
different kinds of vegetation, and the slightly chemical smell that her
sensitive nostrils could identify as 'ponic nutrients. She wondered wistfully
if the seedling chard she had planted on the Aca^ecki would ever leaf for her.

"Be very quiet now," Markel said, once again more mouthing words than actually
speaking, as he deftly inserted a tool and withdrew the fasteners of a much
larger grill.

The smells were almost unbearably enticing to Acorna, but she waited on his
signal to enter after he had done a preliminary prowl round on hands and
knees. The scent of chard drew her like a magnet, and it was fortunate indeed
that it was nearer to her than the root vegetables he was deftly, and
cleverly, harvesting. She noticed that he was careful to take only the small
ones that were likely to be culled anyway. He took carrots and turnips and
potatoes and several other brightly colored things that she did not recognize.
Hybrids, probably. She carefully augmented his selection with chard leaves,
then some lettuces, and one head of cabbage, stuffing what she could into her
other boot. She was glad she hadn't been wearing the boots for very long
before using them as food and water carriers.

The surreptitious harvest didn't take long. Both Markel and Acorna had nimble
hands and were agile on their hands and knees. They gathered up their booty
and retreated to the tube, and Markel refastened the grill behind them. He
beckoned for her to follow him some distance away from the 'ponies unit before
he signaled her to stop and start eating. Which was perfectly understandable,
for carrot chomping could be heard if one was listening for it. Even, perhaps,
if one was not, because she was chewing as fast as she could. She took chard
next, then experimented with the dark red thing he handed her, and that was
good, too. Well, almost anything would have tasted good to her at that point.
After those sorely needed restorative mouthfuls Acorna thought again of Calum.
He, too, would be hungry and thirsty. If only she knew where he was being
held!

She tapped Markel's shoulder as he was chewing away at a raw potato and
indicated she wanted to speak. He nodded but cautioned her -with a finger
across his lips to speak quietly.

"My friend will have no food or water. If only you could figure out where he
is being kept, could we get to him with something to eat and drink?"

Markel considered and finally gave a sharp nod. "He'll be in the secure area,"
he whispered, "where they keep the important prisoners."

Acorna's heart sank. "I tried to make them believe he knew nothing."

"Didn't work," Market told her, "or they'd've tossed him in the holding cells
like they did you. It'll be a lot harder to sneak into the secure cells-but
you're right, we gotta try. Even if we can't break him out-and I ain't
promising, those cells are a lot tougher-we can prob'ly slip him a water
bottle and some greens. He'll need it, too! Sometimes they 'forget' to feed
the folks in detention. I hate it," he whispered. "I keep thinking, what if
somebody dies, and I could have saved him . . . but some of the ones they
throw in the cells are Palomellese. If they found out I was free, they might
sell me out to gain favor with Nueva."

Acorna's heart ached at the decisions that had been forced on the boy,
decisions that would have been heartbreaking for a mature adult. "Well, I can
assure you that neither Calum nor I will sell you out - no matter what
happens!"

Balaklire, Unified Federation Date 33.05.17

Once she got over her shock at being surrounded By unicorn-people instead of
facing just one, Karina realized that she might really be onto something here.
The entire rest of the populated galaxy thought that Acorna was the only one
of her kind. But here were four more of the unicorn-people-and she was the one
who had been Chosen to act as their guide and interpreter! Once it had been
established, with a great deal of pointing and head tossing and shrugging and
mane twitching, that none of the four around her was Acorna, Karina was able
to guess that they were looking for Acorna. It was strange, the way their
meaning seemed to come into her mind if she just let them say their strange
nasal words and didn't try to understand. The trick seemed to be not to think
about it, to convince the busy part of your head that you were actually
thinking about something else and Just sort of accidentally overhearing their
conversation.

In the first minutes on the unicorn-people's spacecraft, Karina found that
trick quite easy to pull off. Everything was so different, so ... magical? Or
just alien? She couldn't decide. The soft, flowing draperies they wore, the
glowing translucent horns on their foreheads, the couches where they reclined
so gracefully, even the gentle radiance that lit the interior of the
spacecraft all spoke to her of a Higher World guided by thought and love, the
Upper Realm she had so long been seeking to contact. But when one of them went
through a slitted opening into another part of the spacecraft, she saw a board
covered with twinkling dials and long projecting levers that had not been made
for any human fingers to manipulate. That made her nervous, so she decided not
to think about it but to concentrate on boosting her psychic awareness so that
she could communicate better on a pure and spiritual level.
But every time she achieved the kind of calm that was supposed to bring
connection with one's spirit totem and access to higher levels, she lost that
sense of almost understanding what the unicorn-people were saying. It was most
irritating and not at all what she would have expected.

(Do you have enough data from its thought-images to use the LAANYE yet,
Melireenya?)

(Not quite, though I have learned that it is a she-creature.) (Had to be, with
those engorged mammaries. Don't they hurt?) (Well, those could be the result
of some kind of illness. They certainly don't look natural, do they? But her
images are distinctly feminine . . . what I can read of them. You've noticed
how weak her transmissions are? And every time I think we're communicating,
something breaks it off and all I get is this image of a long, pointy
crystal-see?)

(Maybe she's trying to tell us that they use something like that to amplify
their naturally weak thoughts.)

(Good idea! I hadn't thought of that. Shall we make one?) (Might as well try
it. If we have to build the data for the LAANYE by pointing our horns at
things and listening to her grunt their names, it'll take forever.)

Something heavy and sharp-edged dropped into her lap and interrupted Karina's
meditations and earnest efforts to establish communion on the spiritual plane.
 "Hey!" she exclaimed, opening her eyes. "Be careful what you're tossing
around, will you - Ohhh. ..." Her indignant comment died away into a long gasp
of awe and wonder as she lifted the ten-inch, doubly terminated quartz
crystal. "Now where did you get that, I wonder?"

(Well, that came through loud and clear. She doesn't like us dropping rocks in
her lap.)

(She likes the rock, though. Look how she's holding it!) (Great, we can
generate as many of those as we need from the spare-parts assembler. Maybe we
can use them as trade items. Go on, now, get some more complete utterances
from her. The LAANYE needs syntactic data as well as semantics, you know!)

(Barbarian! Can you say . . . shit, I've lost her again.)

Holding the quartz crystal, Karinawas deep in meditation, imagining the flow
of energies that moved in a stream of golden light through the crystal, into
her hands, through her body, and out to embrace the Guides around her. She
imagined so effectively that she was completely unaware of the thought-images
directed at her by Melireenya.

(We got a burst of transmission when we gave her that crystal. Maybe she wants
another one.)

(Maybe we should just drop something heavy on her foot and see what she says.)

(Thariinye, when are you going to grow up?) After a bit of tinkering, the
spare-parts assembler was able to produce not only quartz crystals but also a
number of other crystalline mineral specimens. They started with the varieties
of quartz, showering Karina (gently) with rose quartz, amethyst, and citrine;
then, for variety, Thariinye adjusted the assembler to produce other silicates
such as tourmaline and iolite, orthoclase and microcline. He was particularly
proud of a large, tabular orthoclase with a bluish white sheen in two
directions. Their biped seemed impressed by it as well.
(She likes the feldspar group. I got a lot of good data from what she said
that time.)

(Of course! Look, she's wearing a feldspar; maybe that's her totem.)

So moonstone, labradorite, anorthite, and other feldspars dropped into
Karina's open hands until she was all but buried in their silvery shimmer, and
Melireenya turned the LAANYE settings from collection mode to analysis mode
with a sigh of relief.

(That was a job and a half! These beings can't concentrate at all!)

(Oh, well, it's done now. Let's eat while it's analyzing, then we can put the
LAANYE in sleep-teaching mode and in a half turn we should be able to talk to
it, I mean her, with mouthnoises.)

(What do you suppose she eats?)

(I hope she likes sprouts.)

Karma wasn't the least bit unhappy to be offered a vegetarian meal. Although
her hosts worried back and forth at each other about the poor variety of
foodstuffs and the drab flavor of shipgrown fruits and greens, Karina found
the meal, at least, to be everything she would have imagined spiritually
advanced beings to ingest. She had been a little worried that the
unicornpeople would be too spiritually advanced to require any nourishment
beyond a little water. The salad they offered her, full of crisp greens, its
flavor set off by a tangy dressing of ground seeds that tasted a little like
mustard and more like dill, reassured her on those grounds. She wouldn't have
minded a tofu brownie or some sprouted-grains cake for dessert, but the bowl
of fruits and berries was a reasonable alternative. The little brown berries
proved surprisingly sweet and embarrassingly juicy-the first one she bit into
felt like an explosion of sweetness in her mouth and startled her into a minor
coughing fit. After that she took the berries with respect, to offset the tart
flavor of the yellow thing that wasn't exactly an apricot, and found that the
combination made a reasonably satisfying dessert.

After the meal they showed her a tiny cubicle, high enough to accommodate the
unicorn-people but barely wide enough for Karina, and after some puzzlement
she worked out what the facilities were for and how she could use them. That
solved another problem she'd been trying not to worry about and left her
feeling quite confident that she would be able to handle anything else that
came up. And after all the excitement and that really very filling meal of
salad and strange fruits, she was quite tired and more than willing to lie
down on a couch in the main cabin when they dimmed the lights in there.

(I'll keep watch this shift,) Khaari volunteered. (She can sleep on my couch,
and you three can use the LAANYE. I don't really want to hurt my head learning
another barbarian language anyway.)

(Khaari! We must all be able to negotiate with these people!)

(Why? Somebody's got to stay with the ship, and I nominate me because I'm the
only one who can navigate you out of here.)

(Self-thinking is un-linyarii.)

(Huh! I'm Liinyar, and I'm doing the thinking, so by definition it's linyaru.)

(This younger generation,) Neeva sighed toward Melireenya. (We would never
have talked like that. There's no telling what Thariinye and Khaari will do
next.)

(So maybe it's a good idea Khaari doesn't learn their language. In fact, we
might be better off if Thariinye didn't either.)

This last comment inspired Khaari to take her turn with the LAANYE after all,
sleeping on a reclining chair in the control cabin since the barbarian female
was snoozing on her usual couch. As for Thariinye, he was already stretched
out on his couch, wearing the headset that connected him with the LAANYE. He
hadn't even waited to make sure the barbarian was comfortable . . . but the
light snores issuing from Khaan's couch reassured Neeva and Melireenya on that
score. With a mutual glance that spoke more eloquently than their
thought-images on the subject of this impulsive younger generation, they, too,
donned their headsets and settled for a strenuous night of sleep-learning.

By the beginning of the next shift, when Khaari brought up the lights in the
main cabin, they could talk to Karma in her own tongue.

Which was very nearly the same as knowing the Basic Interlingua used for
trade, diplomacy, and war in all the worlds inhabited by Karina's people.

It was easy enough to explain, now, that they were relatives of Acorna's who
had been searching for her.

(This is not the entire truth,) Neeva fretted. (It is even an untruth, if we
allow her to believe-as she surely will-that we came to this portion of the
galaxy in search of our lost little one. Should we not tell her of the
Khieevi, and that we came to warn her people and seek alliance with them?)

(All things in their proper time,) Melireenya replied. (Remember how the
people of that first world were so frightened that they closed themselves
within an impenetrable shield? If those harboring 'Khornya (for so Linyaari
tongues had rendered her name, turning it into something pronounceable in
their language) should do the same, we might NEVER get her back!)

(First we must find our 'Khornya,) Thariinye agreed. (Think, Neeva: she will
surely tell us all we must know of these barbarians, so that we can judge
whether they are khievii or linyarii, whether we wish to make alliance with
them or to disappear before they can attack our worlds.)

The unspoken interchange went so swiftly that Karina was not even aware of any
pause in the conversation; she was still exclaiming in delight over how
quickly they had picked up her language.

The Linyaari envoys were equally delighted when Karina confirmed their hope
that Acorna was to be found here, on the lunar base to which the shuttle had
been bound.

"I had a Lattice note from her, out of this node, just a few days ago," she
told them. "Oh, then you are acquaainit-acquiintee-You know our little
'Khornya?" Neeva asked eagerly. "How does she? Has she been well treated
here?"

Karina looked down. Much as she longed to claim acquaintance with Acorna, was
there any point in doing so, when a few hours would prove the claim false? "We
have not met in person," she evaded, "only in correspondence. But our auras
are attuned." Surely a Lattice note from one person and an acknowledgment from
the receiver constituted a correspondence?
"Then she . . ." Neeva fumbled among unfamiliar words. Their shapes in her
thoughts were blurry and poorly defined;

could the LAANYE be malfunctioning? "Your karma is joined with hers . . . she
is expecting you?"

Karina gazed soulfully at the heap of moonstones in her cupped hands. She had
been fondling them and playing ·with them ever since she awoke.

"Will she be conceerin ... worriid," Thariinye substituted the
easier-to-pronounce word, "that you were not on the shuttle?"

"Oh, no," Karina said unguardedly, then tried to retrieve matters. "That is,"
she said with her tinkling laugh, "we didn't have a definite arrangement. We
just left it that if I did not hear from her that this was not a good time, I
would be coming to Maganos within the next few days. Synchronicity, you know"-
she waved her plump little hands vaguely-"all will manifest for the good of
all; we need only maintain the appropriate space in our hearts. But I am quite
sure," she said earnestly, "that she is looking forward to finally meeting me
on this plane."

"Plane flies through atmosphere," Thariinye said, puzzled. Atmosphere is not
on this moon."

Karina laughed again. "I meant, on the physical plane. We have long been close
on the spiritual plane," she said.

(What is she talking about? Do these beings move through different
dimensions?)

(They appear to exist in three dimensions and move along a rourth at a fixed
rate, just as do we and all other entities,) Khaari told him. (You must have
been confused by some idiom of their language. What is the Linyaari for what
she said?)

(I don't think you can say it in Linyaari.) "I hear you," Thariinye said aloud
to Karma, having picked this up from the LAANYE as an all-purpose phrase
meaning, "I don't know exactly what you mean, but let's not argue about it."

Rafik's worries about Acorna grew to monumental proportions when he reached
direct-communications range of Maganos Moon Base and got no satisfactory
answers to his queries. All he wanted to know was that Acorna was still there
and unharmed. All he got from the corn techs working the boards at Maganos was
static, missed connections, and finally a bland statement that questions about
Acorna were to be passed directly to Delszaki Li.

"Fine," Rafik said, "patch me through to Mr. Li's suite."

But Delszaki Li was napping ... or in   a private meeting . . . or investigating
some new workings out of reach of the   base-toship communications system ... or
simply not to be found at the moment,   depending on when Rafik tried to contact
him and which technician was asked to   forward the message.

"I don't believe it," Rafik said flatly when for the second time he was told
that Delszaki Li was visiting the new mine workings on the far side of
Maganos. "The man's old and paralyzed and confined to a hover-chair, he's not
going to be hopping around Maganos like a performing flea!"

"Mr. Li has a very good hover-chair," said the com tech. "State-of-the-art.
And, uh, the light gravity here means that he has more energy, of course.
Less, umm, strain on the muscles, you know?"

"Ten thousand bazaar dogs and Shaitans take the hoverchair!" Rafik shouted
into the mike. "He doesn't USE those muscles, what difference does gravity
make?"

"Transmission unintelligible, please moderate volume," the tech said. "Signal
fading ..." Her voice slowly dissolved into a crackle of static. Fuming, Rafik
decided that he would just have to wait until he landed on Maganos. Then he
would See For Himself.

Even landing took longer than usual; a vessel of unfamiliar design, whose
pilot seemed completely unfamiliar with standard docking facilities and
commands, was just before him in the queue and held up docking for everybody
else.

"Sorry about that, Uhurii," said the breezy voice of the secondshift
guidance-control officer. "These idiots just ahead of you in the queue come
from some backstars subspace where apparently nobody flies by the regs;
according to the pilot they just make it up as they go along. She's having a
hell of a time following my instructions-keeps saying, 'I hear you,' and then
doing something completely different."

Rafik had a moment's regretful thought for the ancient days of the First
Prophet, when in some parts of Earth the Book of the Prophet was interpreted
to mean, among other things, that women were not allowed to drive.

When he finally docked, he was in a tearing hurry to reach Delszaki Li's
private quarters and much too worried to care about the very odd design of the
ship that had held up the queue for so long, or the plump little woman in
fluttery lavender draperies who was clambering down an exit stair much too
steep for her short legs. He waved at the lunar-base guards and was passed
through on sight, without the formalities of identification and checks for
contraband that held up strangers arriving at Maganos Base. An old friend of
his from the days at MME was now overseeing the Beneficiation and Extraction
Department and let him take a slightly illicit shortcut and hitch a ride on a
conveyor belt that was supposed to be carrying pulverized material to the
oxygen-extraction plant, allowing Rafik to arrive at Delszaki Li's quarters
shortly after docking and a good ten minutes before he was expected there.

"Where IS she? Is she all right?" he demanded as he pushed through the iris
door, too impatient to wait for it to retract its flexible membranes fully.

Gill and Judit were sitting in the anteroom, holding hands. Judit looked as if
she had been crying; Gill turned red at the question.

"There is no reason to suppose Acorna is in any difficulty," Judit said.

Gill swallowed. "Of course not. Acorna can handle anything that comes up, and
Calum . . . well, Calum is very smart, you know, Rafik."   "Calum," Rafik
said, "doesn't have the common sense the Prophets would give to a canary, and
if we're relying on him to keep Acorna out of trouble, no wonder Uncle Hafiz
was worried about her! WHERE IS SHE?"

"Hafiz?" Judit exclaimed. "How did he find out?"    '

"Find out what?"

"Well..." Judit gestured helplessly. "What was he worried about?"
"Don't know, can't find out now." Rafik explained about the garbled message he
had received just before a planetary shield closed down all travel to and
communication -with Laboue.

"And you think there may be some danger to Acorna? "

"Whatever it means," Rafik said, "it can't be anything good. Communication and
trade are the basis of House Harakamians wealth. With Laboue closed off like
this, Uncle Hafiz can't check the odds on any of his, umm, interplanetary
operations, or keep tabs on the competition, or do any of his other, umm,
normal financial and commercial procedures. He wouldn't have done this unless
something out there had really scared him." He thought this statement over for
a moment. "In fact, I wouldn't have said there was anything that could make
Uncle Hafiz nervous enough to forgo a quarter percent profit on the Skarness
Relay . . . which he will have lost through not being there to authorize a
credit exchange before the news of the Relay s failure came through the
regular communications channels."

"Hafiz has advance information on the Skarness Relay?" Gill asked, impressed.
"How does he work that?"

Rafik grinned. "You know the Singing Stones of Skarness, in his garden?
They're not just a curiosity-they're a communications system. Hafiz broke the
code. Those rocks know what's happening on Skarness, no matter where in the
galaxy they happen to be."

"How?"

"How does a clam in an aquarium in the desert know when it would be high tide
if the desert were underwater?" Rafik shrugged. "They know, that's all. At
first the Stones weren't all that useful, because they aren't interested in
human affairs-they think we move too fast and die too soon to be studied-but
Uncle Hafiz got one of them to make a small side bet on the Relay with him,
and now they're all following it. He'd sent to tell me to lay off all our bets
just before that last message and the Shield closing down . . . but without
his authorization, I couldn't do it."

"Delightful as it is to learn these details of sporting events," Judit said,
"I for one should like to find out a little more about what has brought you
here in such haste. You don't know what the threat was?"

Rafik shook his head. "Not precisely. But it must have come from space, not
from one of his competitors on Laboue, or there'd be no advantage in invoking
the Shield. So we don't need to worry about Yukata Batsu or any of that
southern continent lot. Uncle Hafiz has effectively divided the universe into
two separate boxes," he said somberly. "One box contains Laboue, the other
holds the rest of the universe . . . including whatever threat motivated him
to take this step. And whatever it is must concern Acorna."

Judit drew a deep breath. "Then . . . perhaps it's for the best that things
have turned out as they have. Don't you think. Gill?"

"Could be," Gill agreed. "After all, if even we can't find her, what chance is
there that these mysterious enemies will do so?"

"CAN'T FIND HER?" Rafik echoed in shock and outrage.
"What-how-Shaitan-begotten spawn of a cretin, you can't have lost the girl on
a lunar base this size!"

"Rafik, you really must make an effort not to pick up your uncles habits of
speech," Judit reprimanded him.

At the same time Gill said heavily, "Not on the lunar base. Off it. She and
Calum have done a bunk. With a little help from certain other people," he
added, giving Judit a dirty look. She flushed but made no attempt to defend
herself.

And in chorus, the two of them explained to Rafik how a series of delays in
the preparation of the AccSecki had so frustrated Calum and Acorna that they
not only took off before the ship was ready but failed to follow the
navigation plan Calum had filed, so that by the time their getaway was
discovered, it was impossible to follow them.

"Impossible?" Rafik repeated, raising his straight dark brows a fraction of an
inch.

Gill gestured helplessly. "You know Calum. He's not only a brilliant
mathematician, but a devious s.o.b. There are innumerable ways to navigate
space from here to the Coma Berenices quadrant, and trust Calum not to take
the most logical-the one in his filed nav plan-nor yet the least logical,
because/ we checked that already. There's absolutely no way to predict -what
path he will have taken."

Rafik would have disputed that, and had already asked for star maps on several
scales to be displayed, but his study of the possible routes to Coma Berenices
was interrupted by the announcement of a visitor for Acorna.

Not being privy to the shortcuts Rafik had used, nor anywhere near as quick on
her feet as he was, Karina had taken quite a while longer than Rafik to reach
Delszaki Li's headquarters. That she was there at all was tribute not so much
to her increasingly confident statement that Acorna had invited her as to the
Linyaari ability to soothe and calm the minds of those physically close to
them. Neeva and Melireenya had risked showing themselves to the guards on duty
at the docking station just long enough to project calming thoughts of "I
haven't seen anything unusual" and "This is a friend of Acorna's."

Once she entered the interstices of the lunar base, though, Karina had to make
her own way without the help of the Linyaari projections. She had done
remarkably well already, ascertaining from "casual" conversations with the
people she encountered that either Acorna was to be found with Delszaki Li, or
that gentleman would be able to tell her where she was. No one saw any reason
to question Karina's statement that she was a friend of Acorna s and an
expected guest; if she had not been able to show some valid reason for
visiting Maganos, she would not have been allowed past the docking facility,
would she? And her statement that she had impulsively come by private
transport rather than by the regularly scheduled shuttle both explained why
she hadn't been met and gave her an aura of wealth and luxury that helped to
smother any doubts. But here, in the anterooms to Delszaki Li's private
quarters, she met her match.

The secretary-receptionist who guarded Mr. Li's privacy knew Rafik by sight
and had passed him through without question. But Karina he did NOT know-and he
was as disinclined to admit somebody who was not on the list of accepted
visitors as Karina was to give up so close to her goal. The resulting
altercation drew first Judit's attention, then Rafik's, and finally Gill's.
They opened the iris door in time to hear Karina "explaining" with some heat
that she and Acorna had been in correspondence for some time, that they were
closely linked on the spiritual plane, and that it was now their destiny and
the will of the stars that they should also be together on the physical plane.
"Stars didn't send me a directive," the secretary said, deadpan.

"Oh, Lor'," Gill groaned, "it was bound to happen sooner or later, but why
now, on top of everything else?"

"What was bound to happen?" Rafik asked plaintively. Since reaching Maganos he
had continually found himself two steps behind the latest events-only to be
expected -when he had been absent so long on House Harakamian business, but
nonetheless a galling situation to a man used to making his fortune by the
timely use of information.

"Nutcases," Gill answered, retreating back into the room behind the
secretary's station to make his explanation. "People heard about the healings
Acorna did on Kezdet, you know. Can't keep something like that secret. We've
put it about that her healing abilities have faded as she matured, but that's
not enough to deter the really determined nuts. We've also spread rumors that
she's at half a dozen different houses Mr. Li owns in different systems. I
think I know how this one got onto her, though-tell you later," he muttered in
an undertone as Judit opened the iris again and went through to the
secretary's station.

"I am so sorry to disappoint you," Judit said sweetly, "but Just now Acorna is
..."

The pause was fatal to her good intentions.

"She's not seeing visitors," Rafik said firmly.

At the same moment Gill said, "Not on the base. She's gone to visit old
friends."

And, just too late to stop herself, Judit said, "... terribly busy." They're
all lying! Something is terribly wrong! Karina's shock and outrage,
undiminished by any conscious attempts to focus or channel her psychic
abilities, came through to the anxiously waiting Linyaari as clearly as a
minor explosion. (Oh, my head! Tell that female to damp her modulations, will
you?) Thariinye complained.

(I can't tell her anything,) Melireenya thought, rather acidly. (She thinks
you're in charge, remember?)

(She recognizes natural brilliance when she sees it.) (Hmph. She probably
comes from some culture that has a peculiar caste-ranking system. Maybe
they're graded by physical height.)

(In that case, she must be pretty low-caste. I've been looking through the
screens at the others other race who come in and out here. And have you
noticed-)

(Not now, you two!) Neeva put in. (Melireenya, you're supposed to be
monitoring the female . . . Khariinya. What's happening now? Who are "they,"
and what are they lying about?)

(I don't know. That was the first I heard from her since she passed those
guards at the exit from this docking area. I'm trying to get back in touch
now. . . .)

Karina had meant to demand to see Acorna, but some impulse she did not
recognize made her ask first, "Who are you people, anyway?" She followed that
-with her own questions. "Why won't you let me see Acorna-and why are you
lying about it?"

"None of your business," Gill said firmly. "Only people on the list of
approved guests are admitted to this suite, young lady. You're not on the
list-so I strongly suggest you leave now, before we call Security to have you
put out."

Karina felt the secretary's mocking eye upon her. She was sure she was turning
red with embarrassment, but she stood her ground a moment longer.

"I must see Acorna. Truly . . . you don't understand . . . and I can't tell
anyone but her . . . but it is not just for my own sake. There is something
she must know. Oh, please!" She was almost in tears. "Please, you don't
understand, its terribly important. If she knew, she'd want to see me, I just
know she would."

"Darlin'," Gill said more gently, "I'm sure it's important to you, but there's
just no way you can see Acorna. I'll tell you the absolute truth: she's not on
this base, and we don't know when she'll be back." He took Karina's hands in
his. "Word of honor," he said, looking into her face with those piercing blue
eyes that must have persuaded ever so many silly girls to believe whatever he
said.

And he radiated truth and sincerity this time, whatever she had felt from him
before.

The silver-set moonstone at her throat was cold and dull. And try as she
might, Karina could not persuade herself that she "felt" Acorna's presence
anywhere near them.

"I... I see," she said dully.

Declan Giloglie's blue eyes blazed with a triumphant light that renewed all
her suspicions. Karina consciously breathed deeply and thought of Peace and
Love. "Well, in that case," she said, "I suppose I may as well go on. I
certainly don't want to waste my time looking for somebody who's not even
here!" The tinkling laugh was a little flat, and her voice trembled slightly,
but that might be put down to disappointment rather than to the sheer fury
that possessed her.

(She's absolutely furious now, but I can't tell what about. The silly twit
doesn't think, she just stirs the brain-bits around like a nut-and-root stew,
you never know what's going to bob up next.)

(Is she in trouble? Where is she?)

(How should I know? She doesn't look, either. You can't transmit images of
your surroundings if you never look at them properly. All I can see in her
mind right now is blue.)

Karina widened her own eyes and looked straight into Gill's until he released
her hands and stepped back. "Well . . . that's that then," he said. "Sorry for
your disappointment."

Karina visualized herself floating in a cool blue cloud that absorbed and
masked her utter fury.

(Shit! Now I've lost her completely!)

As the door to Delszaki Li's private suite closed behind him, the secretary
looked at Karinawith a touch of pity.

"You're not the only one with a sob story, you know," he advised her, not
unkindly. "Take more than that to get in to see Acorna . . . that is, it would
if she were here," he added, remembering Gill's story. Not being privy to
Acorna's unheralded departure, he took it for granted Gill was lying to
protect her privacy. "You've struck out-better go home. They'll call Security
if you hang out here, you know."

"I haven't the -" Karina stopped herself before she could disclose her
dilemma. The fact was that she didn't have her fare back to Kezdet, much less
to her home planet. Everything she owned and as much as she could borrow had
been barely sufficient to pay her way this far.

But she did, she reflected, have private transport ... of a sort. And she did
owe it to the Linyaari to go back and tell them . . . well, perhaps not
exactly what had happened . . . they wouldn't understand the nuances; she
would be false to the underlying spiritual truth if she told them the bald
literal truth, wouldn't she?

"You are quite right," she said instead. "I shall return to my personal ship
at once."

On the way back, she concentrated on her breathing until she had attained a
state of spiritual tranquillity in which she was no longer deceived by the
superficial appearance of events and felt quite able to convey the basic
truths of the situation to her Linyaari friends.

She'd thought of exactly how to phrase it, too. "She's being kept prisoner!"
Karina announced on her return to the ship. She was breathless not only from
the climb but from the irritation occasioned by having to push her way through
a growing crowd of curious onlookers who were fascinated by the gilt
scrollwork and trompe 1'oeil scarlet-and-emerald ribbons painted as if they
-were flowing across the body of the ship.

"Have you seen our 'Khornya?" Neeva asked, pronouncing the newly learned words
slowly and carefully.

"Acorna, not Kornya." Karina sank back onto one of the couches in the main
cabin. "No, I told you, they're keeping her prisoner. There's an absolute
brute of a man guarding the rooms, he won't let anybody in, and a red-bearded
Viking giant who tells the most terrible lies you ever heard. Would you
believe it, he actually tried to convince me that Acorna wasn't there at all!
And the other two gave quite contradictory stories."

Neeva frowned in concentration as she tried to follow this burst of speech.
"But you said she was expecting you . . . had invited you to visit her. Why
would she go away? "

"That's just it." Karina sat up. "I don't for a minute believe she has gone
away. One of the others said she was sick, and another said she was busy.
Obviously they are all lying. I don't know why, but they are determined to
prevent Acorna from speaking with anybody outside their little group. Why, for
all I know"-she cried, too indignant for caution-"she may never even have seen
my first fifty-six messages!"

"Your what?" asked Neeva, now thoroughly confused.

Karina remembered that she was supposed to be a close friend of Acorna's.
Well, she was. On a spiritual level. "Never mind, that's not important. The
important thing is," she said, enunciating clearly, "there is something very
sinister going on, and I intend to find Acorna and rescue her from these
people!"

All four of the Linyaari looked at one another for a long time. Karina had the
oddest feeling that a very intense argument was going on, though none of them
actually said anything. She half closed her eyes and tried to sense their
auras. Breathe slowly, she reminded herself. LLften to your breathing, <i till
the mim), expand your awarene,f<).

It had been a very trying morning. Perhaps she would be able to still her mind
and expand her awareness more effectively lying down. . . .

Karina fell peacefully asleep while the Linyaari debated their next step.

(It is brave and generous of this Khariinya to offer her services further, but
we must not accept.) Neeva was firm on this. (Bad enough that we have fooled
with the minds of those people on the shuttle, making them forget that their
flight was interrupted. We must not go on to put this one at risk from her own
kind.)

(Besides, she hasn't accomplished much so far.) (She has found where 'Khornya
is being held, and has ascertained that she is a prisoner. That is enough to
go on. One of us will have to free her.)

(Oh, dear, oh, dear. I see more fooling with their minds coming up.)

(We are going to have to do that in any case. Have you looked at the screens
showing us the docking area recently?)

(Of course not, I've been trying to understand what Khariinya was saying.)

(The other barbarians are behaving oddly.)

(So? It's not as if we knew what was normal behavior for them.)

(I think they are curious about our ship.) (Why? It's a nice unobtrusive
vessel, nothing gaudy.) (Not by their standards. Look at the other ships
docked in this facility.)

Neeva studied the views in the screens and had to concede that Thariinye had a
point. Although the Linyaari vessel was not dissimilar in shape to the
barbarian ships, the other ships were so ... well, so dreary! Naked metal and
blind ports; nothing to disguise the ungraceful lines of thrusters or to
decorate the long plain sweep of the main body; and above all, no color, not
even a discreet touch of gilding or a splash of crimson to delight the eye.

And by now, quite a number of the short, hornless bipeds were gathered so near
to the Linyaari ship that the screens offered only a foreshortened view of
them, pointing and talking excitedly among themselves. (Perhaps they are
admiring our tasteful decor,) she suggested without conviction.

(I'm afraid it is more than that,) Melireenya agreed reluctantly with
Thariinye. (Nobody would choose to make ships look so dull and plain, so it
must be that they do not know how to protect painted surfaces against
atmospheric abrasion or meteorite damage. This ship must be quite an oddity to
them.)

(How could a race be so sophisticated as to travel in space, colonize many
systems, even build bases on airless asteroids such as this, and still remain
ignorant of the first principles of surface shielding?) Khaari demanded
crossly. (It is not logical!)

(Whether it's principle or taste,) Neeva told her, (we are obviously too
conspicuous. I am afraid our attempt to make unobtrusive contact has not been
successful.)

(We had better not allow them to board ... or even to pay any more attention
to us.)

(I am afraid you are right.) Neeva suppressed a sigh of disquiet. Start
bending the ethics of the Linyaari, it seemed, and there was no limit to how
far they might get bent. The other three envoys had assured her that the only
questionable action they would have to take was to make the crew and the other
passengers on the space shuttle a little bit unclear about what had happened
mid-flight. But just by being here, they had already exposed the hornless
bipeds to a superior technology. Now one of them would have to leave the ship
in order to exert a calming presence on the people who were obviously so
curious about it. And who knew what that might lead to?

(Don't worry, Neeva. I'll take care of everything,) Thariinye thought
blithely.

The base of Neeva's horn ached. Thariinye would not have been her first choice
to take on the task of calming the hornless ones . . . but it was a small
task; what difference did it make who did it? Still, her forehead ached as
though the horn were warn"ig her of calamities ahead.

And it might have been right, for Thariinye did not stop at showing himself
long enough to establish his influence over the bipeds near the ship. Cloaked
in his projected cloud of (You haven't seen anything unusual) and
(Everything's all right), he went down all the way to the ground level and
casually strolled among the bipeds there. The little group gathered near the
ship was breaking up now, the members of the group moving away briskly in
different directions as if they had suddenly remembered something they were
supposed to be doing and couldn't imagine why they were wasting time staring
at what was, after all, just another spaceship of the hundreds that docked at
Maganos.

Melireenya chuckled at the sight. (Thariinye must have added a bit of "Urgent
business" to his projections, to clear them out so fast!)

(I wish he wouldn't. We shouldn't fool with their minds any more than we have
to. And-Thariinye! Where do you think you're going?) The young fool was
following several of the bipeds toward the guarded exit from the docking
facility.

(Quit worrying, Neeva!) Thariinye s images, slightly weakened by distance from
the ship, were nonetheless sharp enough to convey a sense of slight
irritation. (We agreed that one of us must find 'Khornya, did we not? And
since I have already expended the effort to cloud these bipeds' minds into
believing that I am one of them, why should I not go on into the base and seek
out 'Khornya right now, before her captors have time to hide her elsewhere?)

(He may be right, Neeva. Khariinya's visit may have alerted them.)

(But you do not know where she is! The base is large. . . .)

(Not large enough to hide another Linyaari. I shall simply wander until I
sense her presence; then I shall ask her how she is held and what would be the
best way to free her. I am not entirely stupid, Neeva.)

And since she could not think of any better plan, Neeva let him go without
further protest.

During his first minutes inside the base proper, Thariinye kept letting his
calming projections slip as he was distracted by the oddities of this alien
construction, then hurriedly projecting extra soothing feelings to relax and
distract surprised onlookers. AS he cataloged the alien peculiarities, he left
behind him a trail of slightly perturbed base workers who had the vague
feeling that they'd just forgotten something very important, or that something
-wonderful had almost happened and if only they'd been looking carefully
enough they might have seen it.

The corridors connecting the docking facility to Maganos Central, and that
central complex to other parts of the shielded base, were so dark and low that
Thariinye felt almost as if he were exploring a mine. After cracking his head
on a projecting air vent and catching his hom a really painful blow at a
slit-opening door of unfamiliar design, he learned to stoop slightly, walk
slowly, and watch the way ahead very carefully for obstructions.

The high dome of Maganos Central, with its seemingly extravagant aerie of
scaffolding in a spiderweb design spirahng to the top, was as much a physical
relief to Thariinye as a shot of oxygen would have been. But the design itself
distracted him for dangerous moments. The spirahng web of scaffolding was hung
with green plants that dangled invitingly downward, and in the light gravity
of this moon he could easily have jumped high enough to browse at will. What
was this place-some sort of cafeteria?

A gasp from a passerby reminded him to maintain his cloaking shields. (You
haven't seen anything unusual) he projected, with a hint of (urgent business
somewhere else) to hurry her on her way.

The female trotted off and later told her partner in Shipping and Receiving
that she'd seen the most amazingly handsome young man just coming into
Central, she'd have stopped and tried to chat him up if they hadn't been so
behindhand with the monthly report; whereupon her partner gave her a very odd
look and said that the monthly report wouldn't be due for another six shifts,
and did she think she might be coming down with something?

Retreating to lean against a gently curved wall, Thariinye maintained his
shielding and watched the barbarians hurrying back and forth until he
concluded, with some reluctance, that the greenery must be merely an
atmospheric purifier and not a buffet. At least, nobody else was nibbling on
those tempting new leaves.

(Thariinye, you greedy pig! You're supposed to be looking for our 'Khornya,
not thinking about brunch!)

(Yeah, yeah, but Neeva, you should just see these plants!) But, reminded of
his duty, Thariinye tore his gaze from the succulent new shoots and leaves
just above eye level and mentally felt around the central complex for some
sense of another Linyaari.

He could sense nothing but the tangled, muddy undertow of a thousand alien
minds muttering away, each in its separate little shell, and most too weak and
garbled to be intelligible, with here and there a feeling highlighted by
surprise or strong emotion:

Oh, Jussi, why did you leave me? . .. grubble grubble grubble .. . payday's
next shift, then I can get OUT of here . . . grubble grubble grubble . . .
Lukia, Lady of Light, help me now!

Startled, Thariinye swiveled to look at the source of   that last thought, a
grubby kid weaving between the adults so rapidly that   Thariinye would have
lost him but for the strength of his projections. The   words meant nothing to
Thariinye, but the image of a radiant Liinyar girl in   white-silk robes that
accompanied them riveted him.

A sudden thought of "Saints preserve us, what's THAT!!!" accompanied by an
image of himself enlarged to ten feet tall and glowing with a strange
radiance, reminded Thariinye to maintain his calming projections while he
edged through the crowd after the urchin who had so obviously been thinking
about a Liinyar girl. He still could not sense any trace of another of his
kind in this crowded, smelly base, but that child must have seen 'Khornya at
some time, to have formed the image so clearly.

The miner who'd called on the saints stared after Thariinye but could see
nothing unusual among the swirling streams of passersby. Ramon Trinidad mopped
his forehead and decided not to mention to his mates that he'd had a vision of
Acorna. They already teased him enough because he had a small icon of the
Virgin of Guadeloupe superglued to the dashboard of his operator cab at the
loading station; if he told them he'd been seeing visions, he'd never live it
down. All the same, it must mean something that the Lady had appeared to him
like that, all in a blinding flash it was, and then vanished. She must be
warning him that he'd been marked out for something special.

Ramon Trinidad marched down the corridor to Mining Ops HID more jauntily than
he'd moved since coming to Maganos. At first he'd thought this job, training
kids from the gutters of Kezdet to operate lunar mining equipment, was high
pay for light work; then he'd considered resigning and telling Personnel that
he was a miner, not a kindergarten teacher; then he'd actually begun to like
some of the kids. Besides, they didn't laugh at him for invoking the
protection of the Virgin and the saints each time he took a group of them out
into the long, lightly shielded corridors of the active workings. The kids had
their own saints ~ Lukia of the Lights, Epona, Sita Ram.

The urchin whom Thariinye was following was also headed for Mining Ops HID,
and praying desperately that he'd get there well ahead of Ramon Trinidad; so
the image of Lukia of the Lights kept lighting up in his thought-patterns,
guiding Thariinye like a flashing beacon.

Bored by Rafik's intense study of the star maps which were projected all over
the walls of Delszaki Li's office, Gill stood up to stretch his legs and
wandered over to the one wall not devoted to mapping the outer reaches of the
explored and unexplored parts of the galaxy. Rafik had been unable to
commandeer this wall because it was filled with vid-screens on which, at any
moment, random scenes of the moon base were displayed. Although no one's
private quarters were invaded, Delszaki Li took great pleasure in observing
all other parts of the base in operation, from the children's school to the
outermost mine workings. Before the progress of his disease had robbed him of
the ability to control a touch pad with his right hand, the display had been
designed for him to call up whatever views he desired. When touching the pad
became too difficult for him, the engineers had offered to make the display
voice-controlled like his new hover-chair, but he had refused, indicating that
it was too tiring for him to issue unnecessary commands and that he would
prefer a random display which he did not have to control. Now the images on
the more than twenty screens changed constantly, on a randomly activated
timer, giving a constantly varying panorama of Maganos Moon Base activities.
Gill stared unseeingly at an image of the glittering dome over Maganos
Central, with its overarching glass panels and its garlands of greenery, until
it shifted to a view of the bakery attached to the cafeteria, where a cook was
setting out trays of fresh pastries in preparation for the shift change, then
to an overhead shot of the four major mine workings viewed from a camera atop
the central dome. The random changes depressed him, reminding him of the
inexorable progress of Delszaki Li's nervous paralysis, and he wondered
whether Acorna would return in time to see her benefactor once again. Her
image was so clear in his heart that he thought for a moment he was imagining
her on one of the screens before him; then his shout surprised Rafik into
dropping the laser pointer with which he had been tracing one of the
AcaSeckl's possible routes on the larger star map for Pal and Delszaki Li.

"What in the name of the Djinni Djiboutis -" Rafik began before remembering
Judit's request that he not swear like the descendant of twenty generations of
Arab-Armenian rug merchants.

"What are you playing at, Gill? We're trying to get some work done over here,
if you don't mind!"

"Acorna," Gill croaked. "I saw her ... on one of these screens. She's not
gone, Rafik; she's right here on Maganos!"

"She can't be . . ." Pal said, and then, ". . . can she?" Here on Maganos, and
concealing herself from him? The thought was almost too painful to bear.

"I saw her, I tell you," Gill insisted. "She was right..." He dropped his
hand; the screen he pointed at Was now showing a row of children chanting the
Basic alphabet with hand signs for each letter. "Here," he said, "only it
wasn't the school, it was some damn corridor, and the bloody automatic timer
had to shift scenes before I could identify it."

"There she is!" Judit cried, pointing at a screen in the far upper right
section of the wall.

"That's one of the new workings," Gill said, "somewhere in III."

At the same moment Pal said, "But   that's not Acorna." The picture switched to
an image of the docking facility.   "Damn that bloody automatic timer, can't we
turn it off?" Gill demanded. "And   are you out of your mind. Pal? Just how many
six-foot people with golden horns   do you think we've got around here?"

"More than one, evidently." Pal folded his arms with the gesture of a man who
is not to be shaken from his opinion, no matter how impossible and illogical
it may seem to the rest of the world. "I would know Acorna among a thousand of
her kind. ..."

Gill snorted. "How do you know? You've never seen a thousand other kind."

"I would know her," Pal insisted quietly, "and that is not my lady."

Judit had turned away from the screens to look through Delszaki Li's desk.
"Judit!" Gill bellowed. "What are you playing at? Get over here and watch the
screens. I need some backup in case she appears again! No, first tell somebody
to hustle down to III... no, I don't know which subsection, there aren't but
six open, surely we've got enough security people to cover all of them? Why
are you fooling around looking for office supplies, girl? We've got an
emergency here!"

"Is searching for manual controller," Delszaki Li put in, his dry and slightly
amused whisper cutting through the fog of Gill's emotional bellowing. "My
suggestion. You countermand?"

Gill stared. "It still works?"

"Override," Li whispered. "Useful if I wish to see something longer than five
seconds . . . but someone else must push pad, now."

Judit scrabbled through a clutter of carved jade tokens, laser pads, used
betting slips, fact-flimsies with access codes scrawled on the back, and
unlabeled datacubes, and finally held up the control pad with a cry of
triumph.

"Try all the workings off III," Gill directed her. "You'll just have to flip
through them until we come. ..."

"Silly," Judit said, "we've got a lot more than six screens to choose from,
let's look at them all."

With shaking hands, she tapped out the code for the cameras in IIIA, B, C, D .
..

"THERE SHE IS!" cried Gill and Rafik.

"No, she isn't," Pal insisted.

Mr. Li whispered a command, and his hover-chair carried him across the room to
float before the screen showing Mine Working HID.

"There he is!" the other kids who were in the training session squealed when
Hajnal darted into the open area around Ramon's sledger and slid the last
twenty feet, triumphant, stopping himself just inches short of the piles of
rough lunar rock that marked the end of the workings. "Didja get it? Didja get
it?"

"Hajnal, Master Thief of Kezdet, strikes again!" Hajnal boasted, pulling open
his jacket to reveal an extremely nervous, long-eared, white-fronted marchare.
The marchare squeaked and leapt out of its hiding place with a powerful thrust
of its long rear legs. The other children scrambled to catch it.

"Ow! It scratched me!"

"'At's nothing. Look 'ow it got me on the way here, but I didn't drop it."
Hajnal pulled up his shirt and proudly showed the long bloody scratches on his
chest and stomach. "Now 'urry up, you lot, and get it into the toolbox in the
back of Ramon's operator cab. I seen Ramon coming this way. Ain't gonna
believe the workings is 'aunted if 'e sees the blasted hanimal, is 'e now?"

"Poor little marchare," crooned a girl who cradled the nervous animal in her
arms for a moment, petting it until its eyes stopped rolling and the long
nervous ears stopped twitching. "Didn't mean to scratch anybody, did you. poor
little frightened thing? Hajnal, I don't think we oughter put him in the
toolbox, he'll get scared."

"If you don't stop petting him, Eva, he'll go to sleep on us, and we'll lose
our chance."

The little fiends of Kezdets first graduating class had been working on Ramon
Trinidad for weeks, trying to convince him the combination power unit and
loading station he operated was haunted by the ghost of a mining engineer
who'd been killed in an accident so grisly nobody who knew the story was ever
willing to use that station again. They gauged their success by the number of
holy medals and icons Ramon hung on the device, blamed the miners of the next
shift for "losing" most of the icons, and competed to see who could drop the
most hairraising hints about what had "really" happened to the mythical dead
engineer. But Ramon was beginning to doubt their unsupported stories. It was
time for some hard evidence. They were counting on the scrabbling and squeaks
of the third-shift pastry cook's pet marchare, concealed in a compartment in
the back of the sledger, to provide that evidence. Hajnal, proud of his past
as a free thief on Kezdet and no factory slave, had boastfully volunteered to
"borrow" the marchare without the cook's knowledge.

"It's mean, putting him in that dark little place," another girl piped up.
"Let's not. He's so cute!"

"Cute," Hajnal said darkly. "Lemme tell you, you wouldn' think 'e was so
bleedin' cute if you'd had to carry him through Central under your shirt, and
'im gougin' tracks in your belly every time he startled!"

"Sita Ram wouldn't like it," Eva said.

"Huh! Lukia don't mind. She 'elped me get away," Hajnal boasted.

Eva's eyes widened. All the children seemed suddenly to be looking up, over
Hajnals head. Slowly he turned, certain that Ramon had spoiled his plot by
reaching the workings before he could conceal the marchare.

But it wasn't Ramon who stood behind him, but a being taller and far brighter
than the little miner; a being who seemed clothed in light from Her golden
horn to the silvery wisps of hair around Her hooves.

"Epona," "Sita Ram," "Lukia," whispered the children, and wen they were all
over the bright being.

"I knew you were here, Acorna, I knew? you wouldn't just leave us without
saying good-bye," squealed Khetala, who had known Acorna as a person rather
than a vision of goodness. She threw herself on the tall, silver-haired being
in an unrehearsed_ and decidedly unwelcome-embrace.

"Get off me!" Thariinye sputtered in his own tongue. In the panic of the
moment he could not remember the words the LAANYE had implanted in his cortex
a few hours previously.

There was a smaller girl clutching his tunic, now, marring the elegant drape
of the fabric, and a boy jumped up and down and swung from his arm as if he
were some kind of climbing toy. Why hadn't that plump little woman warned him
that the moon base was full of children? Pre-pubes, their psychic abilities
still latent, were not susceptible to the mental projections that could be
used to calm adults . . . and apparently that particular developmental factor
was true across species, or at least it was as true of these beings as it was
of his own race. But he had no other projection, nothing else to try!
Frantically he projected (You don't see anything unusual) (Nothing is
happening) (Need to get back to work).

"But I do see you. Lady Epona, I do! I do!" squealed the smallest girl.

Khetala, the oldest of the group, loosened her embrace and backed off a step,
puzzled. Why had she thought this was Acorna? It was obviously only a tall
miner . . . she squinted . . with silver hair . . . and a horn. . . .
"Don't you remember me. Lady Acorna?" she asked, hurt and puzzled.

Hajnal was too high on success and escape even to be touched by the
projections. "Whaddaya screechin' about now? I know my Lady Lukia of the
Lights!"

Thariinye gritted his teeth and redoubled the force of his projections, but
the children were jumping up and down, shrieking with excitement, and far too
hyper to receive the calming influence he was trying to put forth, even if
they had been old enough to pick up his mental images. Not only that, but they
seemed to be insane. They expected him to cuddle them. They thought he was. .
..

Under sufficient stress, Thariinye stopped trying to remember the words of the
alien language and just used them without thinking.

"Lookh, yuuu hiteli twerpis," he hissed in rage, "I-aam- naat-a-ghiril! See?"

And, just as the security guard requested by Gill arrived at the workings,
Thariinye yanked open his blue tunic to display irrefutable evidence that he
could not be the "lady" these brats were greeting so ecstatically.

The guard, unlike the children, was affected by Thariinye's projections; so he
saw nothing unusual in the sight of a sevenfoot horned male with a cascade of
silver hair falling down his neck. What that male was doing, however, was both
unusual and strictly forbidden on Maganos Moon Base.

"You'd better come along with me, mister," he said.


Haven, Unified Federation Date534.05.1S

That's Hoa," Markel mouthed in Acorna's ear' as ????? down the vent at the
first of the innermost security cells, much smaller and more closely guarded
than the row where Acorna had been kept.

"Who?"

"Ho-A," Markel separated the syllables. "He's the guy the Palomellese spaced
my"-he had to swallow-"my father for- to get control of his work. If he hadn't
come aboard the Haven, everything would be all right. He's how Rushima's being
flooded, burned, blasted, or stormed until they pay Nueva Fallona's gang
protection money."

"He?" And Acorna looked down again at the dejected, darkhaired man sitting
with his head in his hands. What she could see of his skin had a faintly
yellow cast that reminded her of Delszaki Li and made her instinctively wish
to trust him. "Then why's he here"-she pointed one hand down-"and not up there
with them?"

"Because he trusted our Speakers-my father and Andrezhuna and that Gerezan."
The last name was expelled like a Gurse, and, in the light from the cell
below, Acorna could see the tears begin to form in Markel's eyes. He brushed
them aside with impatient fingers, taking a deep breath. "He didn't know about
what they"-Markel jerked a contemptuous finger upwardplanned. He was scared
stiff that the governments of Khang Kieaan, where he used to live, would've
figured out that he couldn't just predict weather, he could manipulate it."

"Ooooh." Acorna's mind made leaps of conjecture on how that could be used. "So
that's what happened to Rushima?" Markel nodded.
"But how could Hoa give that sort of power to renegades like them?" Now she,
too, pointed upward.

"He didn't. He thought he'd be safe on Haven . . . and he would've been, only
Nueva and those traitors Gerezan and Sengrat planned a coup and got rid of all
the rest of the First Generation. ..." Markel gulped.

"Like your father." Acorna laid a sympathetic arm about the thin shoulders,
thinking proudly of his loyalty and resourcefulness. "Did you escape before
they could . . . you know ..."

He nodded. "They don't know the half of what I know about the Haven. I could
do anything to this ship . . . sometimes I think I ought to be making more
trouble for them, only I don't want to wreck it and kill a lot of innocent
people. The other SecondGeneration kids may be pretending to go along, but
they shouldn't die for it. I could do anything," he repeated, "if only I knew
what to do. ..."

In that pause, Acorna softly asked, "Like being able to release the clamps on
my ship so we can all get away?"

Markel considered, eyeing her, then the lighted vent and the rounded walls of
the tube. She didn't think she'd called a bluff:

rather she felt, through her arm still about his shoulders, that he was
figuring out how to accomplish this.

"I'd be glad if you could alert Shenjemi Federation that one of their colonies
is being blackmailed. And my planet that I'm being held hostage."

Markel gave a little snort, muffled by his fingers. "You're not a hostage,
you're a prisoner. They got better things to do than collect ransom for
hostages. They can hold up -whole planets for Acorna gulped, happier than ever
that she was no longer trapped in that cell, vulnerable. But Calum was still a
prisoner. And, if they had no need to take hostages, Calum was in greater
peril than she'd originally thought. They'd have to work fast. She was
considering priorities when suddenly she saw that Hoa's face was turned up to
the vent. She gave Markel a discreet nudge.

"Oh, oh," he mouthed back at her, and would have led her away, but she stopped
him.

"He didn't intend this to happen . . . and he looks ill. I think they've hurt
him. Let's free him, too. Maybe he'd know how to stop what they've started.
Can we do that? Please?" Market didn't really have any defense against Acorna
in pleading mode-especially with her arm around him and the comforting warmth
of her soft feminine body giving him the nurturing love he had needed so
desperately for so long.

"He'll have to be quiet," he said.

"I doubt that will be a problem," she replied, and helped Markel unscrew the
vent.

Dr. Ngaen Xong Hoa's slender frame made it through the narrow vent with no
difficulty, but he was so weak they had to help him far more than Acorna had
expected; he did almost none of the work of climbing. When he was finally in
the tunnel, she realized why he had been so helpless. Even in the bad light,
Acorna could see what had been done to the man's hands and arms. Pretending to
bend lower to reset the screws on the vent, Acorna made sure her horn
touched-through the fine fabric of her hat-both mangled hands.

Urgently now, Markel directed them away from the empty cell and around a bend
in the tubes and over to the other side of the prison block. At the
intersection, he firmly placed Dr. Hoa against the curving side and, finger on
lips, indicated that he was to stay put. Dr. Hoa nodded, only too happy to
comply. Then Markel beckoned Acorna to slither past the scientist. He put his
hps to her ears and spoke low? but distinctly.

"We got to get your buddy right away now? because as soon as they see Dr.
Hoa's gone, there'll be nine kinds of alarms and searches and stuff. Might not
get another chance. Any way you Gan help me locate him?"

Acorna closed her eyes. If only her horn had the power of locating people as
well as healing them! Maybe it dou, she thought. . . I've never known another
of my kirn). How do I know what I can do?

She composed her thoughts and tried to visualize Calum's features, but all she
could sense was the aura of misery that filled the whole area around the cells
. . . and something about . maps? She shook her head, trying to clear it. How
could she concentrate on finding Calum when she kept getting this feeling that
somebody was lecturing her on how to color a map? It felt as if there was a
whole geography class going on somewhere under her right hand ... no, not
geography. Strange, half-familiar words floated into her head.

"Conjecture . . . lemma . . . simple closed curve. . . ."

Weil, how about that!

"I think," she said slowly, "he might be in the cell on the far right."

Calum was so absorbed in the diagrams he was tracing on his cell wall that she
had to hiss several times before he finally noticed-and even then he did not
look up.

"Just a minute, I'm thinking," he said-and then did a comical double take,
looking up so fast that he nearly lost his balance. "Acorna? What the-"

"We're rescuing you," Acorna explained patiently.

"Who's wel And do you have anything I can copy this down on? I don't want to
lose it, and the trouble with drawing diagrams in the condensation on the wall
here is ..."

"Ten thousand devils fly away with your diagrams and drop them in the dung of
the camel pits of Sheol!" Acorna ripped out a variation on one of Rafik's
favorite curses. "Do you want to wait around until they come to torture you
into releasing the hold on ^as. AcaSeckit Or do you think you could drop your
mathematical conjectures long enough to climb up this rope?"

Calum gave a dubious glance at the slender rope and the narrow space of the
air vent through which Acorna was whispering to him, then looked back once
regretfully at the drawings he had traced on the wall of his cell.

"Oh, well, I can probably reconstruct it later," he muttered.   The vent
opening was a tighter squeeze for Calum than it had been for Dr. Hoa or
Acorna, but when he seemed to be stuck fast Markel inspired him by mentioning
a few of Nueva Fallona's favorite Palomellese tortures, then commented that if
Calum's shoulders were really wedged firmly into the vent his feet would
doubtless be at a convenient height for Nueva's attentions.

"She likes playing with matches," he said.

Calum made one last convulsive effort, freed his broad shoulders, and wriggled
upward into the tunnel, clutching the rope.

"Oh, well," he said, as Acorna exclaimed over his scrapes, "it's only skin,
plenty more where that came from."

They replaced the vent, went back around the curve, and collected Dr. Hoa, who
was trembling violently in reaction to his salvation.

"I am not a man of violence," he whispered in apology. "I am a scientist. ..
and I was trying to get away from people like these. Now we are all trapped.
..."

Acorna touched his cheek with her horn and the spasms stopped. Toward the end
of their passage, they had to tie the rope around his shoulders, and Acorna
pulled him behind her, with Markel helping the scientist over the joins and
aprons that connected the klicks of interior tubes and conduits. As soon as
they reached Markel's nest, the boy picked up his listener, a device that sat
comfortably in his ear, and indicated that Acorna should make Dr. Hoa
comfortable on the pile of miscellaneous clothing and thermal sheeting behind
them.

Acorna was glad to oblige. While she was at it, she also assessed the
scientist's other injuries and healed them. He had been badly knocked about
before the Palomellese even began their systematic destruction of his fingers
and hands; she could not blame him for having given them enough information to
use his research, nor for the fear and despair that had all but overwhelmed
him in the tunnels. But as she soothed his bodily aches, he seemed calmer and
more in control of himself. When she was nnished, he caught her by the arm,
his eyes once more alive with intelligent curiosity.

"Ki-lin?" he asked in a bare whisper that would not reach Markel, occupied
with eavesdropping.

She smiled and put her finger across her lips as their young guide so often
had.

He closed his eyes once, indicating he understood, but he also put one frail,
healed finger to his lips and then pressed it against hers.

She turned to take a water bottle from the rack above her head and handed it
to him. Though he clutched the bottle as possessively as any thirsty man
would, Acorna did not have to warn him to take small, slow sips and accustom
his body to water again.

Markel was grinning with delight at whatever he was hearing on his earphone.
He kept listening, but occasionally would whisper at what was going on.

"They found Hoa missing first, then checked the rest of the cells. They
haven't a clue how he and Calum got away, and they got into an argument about
it and haven't yet checked to find out that you're gone, too, Acorna. That's
as well. Gives us more time to figure. ..." The boy paused, pushed the device
more securely into his ear, his eyes blinking angrily. Then he relaxed and
smiled again.

"I got to meet someone. And fast," he said, taking out the listener and
carefully restoring it to its pouch on tube wall. "You stay put and stay
quiet," he murmured to Acorna and Calum. He glanced over at Dr. Hoa, shrugged
his shoulders, and crawled away with the speed of a spider after an intruder
in its web.

Acorna saw that Dr. Hoa was asleep, the water bottle securely clutched against
his chest with both hands. Briefly she remembered the swollen, distorted
knuckles and torn, burned skin she had seen before her healing touch had
soothed them. She shivered and tried not to imagine what deliberate cruelty
had inflicted those injuries.

"I don't much like this," Calum muttered. "How do you know we can trust the
kid? "

Acorna gave him a chilly look. "For starters, he just saved us both from
imprisonment and you, at least, from torture. Then there's the fact that his
father was killed resisting the coup that put these people in power-"

"So he says. How do you know he's telling the truth?"

"Well, we're free, aren't we?"

"Are we?" Calum stretched until one elbow banged into either side of the
tunnel where they crouched.

"Damn!" Acorna exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of asking Markel to send a
message to either Shenjemi or Maganos-or better, both?"

Whatever could Market have heard that had produced first fury and then humor?
Acorna pondered that for a moment. No way to tell now. While waiting, she
might as well restore her strength. She took a careful mouthful of water and
munched on another carrot as quietly as one can munch a carrot. But they were
not vegetables that dissolved even when mixed with her saliva. She swallowed
hard, forcing down the half-masticated bits of carrot, so that she could
listen once again.

After an interminable wait she heard slight noises coming toward them-but they
sounded like the movements of a large man, not like Markel's quick, delicate
crawl. She threw a blanket over Dr. Hoa in the faint hope of concealing him
from whoever had discovered their hiding place, and looked at Calum with wide,
frightened eyes. He squeezed her hand reassuringly-at least, she assumed he
meant it to be reassuring.

With her acute hearing, she registered before Calum did that there were two
people approaching them, the smaller one in front.

"It's all right," she whispered to Calum, "Markel's bringing someone."

"That," Calum whispered, "is exactly what I was afraid of."

"Acorna?"

She lifted her head, identifying Markel's whisper. The much larger person
behind him looked vaguely familiar, yet the feel of him was completely strange
. . . she felt sure she had never been in his presence before, yet his face
raised some chord of recognition in her.

He caught sight of her, goggled and gulped and pointed. Markel looked around,
then at Acorna, and he, too, goggled.
"Damn," Acorna said out loud. In her hasty attempt to conceal Dr. Hoa, her hat
had come off. And her horn was visible.

Calum began chuckling. What was so funny about the situation? A moment ago
he'd been sure Markel had betrayed them, now he thought it was funny that her
horn was in plain sight?

"It's all right, Acorna," Calum said, "and so is Markel, ifhe's hanging out
with this worthless space drifter."

The man with Markel chuckled in his turn. "Might have known if there was
trouble, you'd be mixed up in it somehow, Calum. But what were you thinking of
to get young Acorna into it?"

Acorna gasped in surprise, and the man turned to her. "No, you don't know me,
but I've heard plenty about you."

"Oh?"

"Gill used to send me holos of you, before we lost touch. Even the Brain,
here"-he jerked his head toward Calum-"occasionally mentioned you. When he
bothered to write, that is!"

"You can't be ..."

"Johnny Greene, very much at your service, ma'am."

Acorna took a deep breath of relief. "Of course! Gill has a holo of you in his
office, but..."

The man in the holo looked much younger, his head thrown back in carefree
laughter. This man's features were the same, but now they were drawn in the
lines of strain and watchfulness that seemed to mark everybody who had
survived Nueva Fallona's coup on the Haven.

"You could have told me," she scolded Calum.

"Didn't have time," Calum defended himself. "Look, I didn't know he was going
to show up here."

Markel looked about anxiously. "Where'd you stash Dr. Hoa?"

Acorna reached over and gently raised a corner of the cover to show the
exhausted doctor sleeping, the tiniest of smiles in the corners of his mouth.

"Is that a relief!" Johnny exclaimed, when he saw the scientist. "I don't know
how you did it, Markel. . ."

"Very carefully," the boy said, sitting with his arms resting casually on his
knees, totally relaxed and very, very pleased with himself. "I got them out
through the air vents. They fit diagonally through the openings once I took
the grates out. Only this one"-he jerked his chin toward Calum--"needed a
little encouragement." He frowned as he took a closer look at Calum. "Say,
how'd you stop the bleeding? I could've sworn you lost some skin back there!"

"Oh, it was A- " Calum began, then stopped as Acorna gave him a warning shake
of the head. It wasn't that she didn't trust Markel, but he was being asked to
assimilate a lot at one time. And if something went wrong . . . she refused
even to consider that. There would be time enough to explain her unique
healing capabilities when they got out of here-and they would! "~a fuss about
nothing, as it turned out," Calum substituted for what he'd been going to say.
"I sure thought I was going to get scraped raw on the way out, though!"

"Markel," Acorna said urgently, "can you get messages out as well as eavesdrop
on their communications? We ought to alert the Shenjemi Federation about
what's happening to Rushima- and send to Maganos for help, too."

"Might could," Markel allowed. "Have to tap the main power lines to boost a
message, though, and they just might notice the surge. Lemme check on who's on
shift now. . . ." He tapped his earphone back in place and listened for a
moment. His eyes lit up like those of a much younger child planning some
mischief.

"Ooooh, is Nueva furious!" he said. "She's giving all of them what-for and
threatening to space the next incompetent who manages to lose a prisoner.
'They'"-Market thumbed his chest bone-"have got to be found. Oho!" And he sat
bolt upright a moment, then relaxed again. But the sparkle was gone from his
eyes. "Sengrat's just pointed out that I was never accounted for in the
original coup . . . and Ximena reminded him that I used to know ways about the
ship in the tubes and stuff." The way he emphasized her name warned Acorna
that Ximena was, or had been, someone special to Markel. "They really are on
Nueva's side; they're not just going along to save their own skins," he said.
"Even Ximena ... I used to like her. I don't understand people like that."

"Neither do I," Acorna told him.

"You're a couple of charming innocents," Johnny told them, 'but I for one
would like to know what they plan to do with this information and how Markel
thinks he's going to stall them- because I know what that look in your eyes
means, kid," he said, ruffling the top ofMarkel's head.

"Nueva was just going to send someone through that bis tube, which would have
been a fine game of hide-and-seek in this maze. We could've run the searchers
ragged," Markel reported. "Then Sengrat suggested they should use gas. He's
still underestimating me." Even as he spoke, he was rooting through yet
another hiding place and came out with one hand clasping breathing masks and
the other emergency oxygen bottles.

Acorna smiled. "We won't need those."

Johnny shot Acorna a wondering look.

"She is Ki-lin," murmured Dr. Hoa, who had awakened during Markel's excited
report. "Her horn purifies water and air and heals. Does it not, most gracious
lady Ki-lin?"

"I am not Ki-lin, Dr. Hoa, but the rest of it is accurate," she said.

"See? She has healed my hands and arms from what they did to me." The
scientist shoved one sleeve up to show a slightly wrinkled but healthy forearm
with a few patches of paler skin replacing the deep bums. "And the rest of me,
too," he said with some surprise as he realized he could sit up and move
without pain.

"And my knuckles," Markel said, eyes wide as he finally noticed. "My knees
don't hurt either, nor my back." He looked at Calum accusingly. "Hey-you did
get scraped bad, getting through that vent hole, didn't you? And tried to
persuade me I'd been imagining it, when the truth is Acorna healed you?"

"We thought it might be hard for you to accept," Calum said. "Some people
don't believe. ..."

Markel looked reverently at Acorna. "Even with a demonstration? What an asset
for our side! They're never going to get their hands on you, lady. Not while I
can still breathe."

"I'll see that's a long, long time," Acorna said.

Then Market pressed the earpiece and held up a hand to stop any further talk.
"Yes, that's what they're going to do. Ximena is small enough to make a search
once the air has cleared up." His face clouded over. "She doesn't want to ...
I thought maybe she wasn't as bad as the rest of them . . . but she doesn't
care about what happens to us, she's just afraid I'll survive the gas somehow
and go after her in the tunnels. I couldn't hurt her," he said sadly, "not
Ximena, no matter what she's done. I thought she would know that much, at
least."

"Well, let's not wait to meet her," Johnny said, changing the subject briskly
before Markel's emotions could overpower him. "Markel, can you get us from
here to the hangar deck?" He a-lanced at Calum. "I'm thinking that your ship
would make a better command center than this tunnel . . . we could send our
messages for sure, and maybe even get clean away if Markel can disable the
Haven's grapples."

"No problem! Can't you see, we're already at Red 32 x Blue 16, all we have to
do is take a side route through Blue 16-24 and cut across at the intersection
of Green 48 ... well, never mind," Market slowed down as he sensed the
bafflement of his companions.

"I'm just a simple techno-nerd," Johnny said. "I don't happen to keep a 3-D
color map of the ship's maintenance tunnels in my memory."

"It's real easy," Markel said. "I'll tell you all about it when we have time."

"That," Johnny said hollowly, "is exactly what I'm afraid of."

"Huh?"

"Never mind!" Johnny gave Markel a friendly push. "Get going, 0 friendly
native guide. Lets hit the road ... or rather," as Johnny caught Markel's
startled look of warning, "let us make noiseless progress away. Do we need
anything you have stashed here, Markel?"

"Water?" Markel took down the fabric that had held the water bottles to the
wall and it folded out into a sleeveless tunic, the water supplies on the back
of it. "Ration bars. My headset. These ... no, too heavy... but I gotta have
these," he mused over a collection of tools, rapidly making his selection. He
stuffed the necessary items into another backpack, draping thermal covers over
everyone's shoulders, even Dr. Hoa's, and then, lifting up a corner of the
tube wall, shoved whatever remained into the opening. It took a few hard
pushes to get the opening to resume its normal shape. The area was back to
normal. Markel had left no signs of his presence.

"This way, now," he said, pointing before he took Dr. Hoas hand.

Later Acorna would wonder how they had managed that exodus. The healing
properties of her horn were prodigious, as well as its air-purifying
abilities; but the constant effort of making the air around them breathable
eventually exhausted even her. And there were other problems. They did not
have the luxury of sticking to the "safe" routes Markel had mapped out for
himself;

now they had to follow the passageways that held least risk of detection or
offered the shortest path to the hangar. Some of the walls they crept through
felt cold, others almost unbearably hot and, over one section-the coil to main
drive-Acorna went from one member of their group to another, to heal blistered
knees, hands, and other portions of their anatomies they could not keep from
touching the hot metal.

"Lousy insulation," Johnny muttered, as Acorna laid her horn up and down his
thigh where the material of his pant leg had been seared away.

They rested every time they reached a double tube crossing because there
Acorna and Johnny could stand upright and ease their backs.

"You do know where you're taking us, young'un?" Johnny asked.

"I told you, Johnny Greene, I know this ship like no one else, First or Second
Generation. What's the matter, can't you take the heat?" Markel asked so
fiercely that Johnny held up his hands in mock self-defense.

"Lay on, Macduff," the spacer said with a smothered laugh, "and damned be he
who first cries Hold, Enough! That is," he added, "if you and Dr. Hoa can
manage, Acorna? "

Acorna wanted nothing more than to be through with this claustrophobic
journey. She fervently assured Johnny and Markel that there was no need to
slow down on her behalf.

Markel had indeed known exactly where he was taking them, a storage room for
tools on the hangar deck itself. Through the grill on the narrow window, they
could even see the Aca3ecki, clamped tight to the deck but still in front of
the other smaller vessels that were part of the Haven's force.

"And that is their first mistake," Markel said with great satisfaction.

As if he hadn't been crawling for days through narrow tubes and inspection
conduits, Markel made space on the worktable and started plugging his
equipment into some of the power-tool sockets. Everyone else flopped down,
exhausted, on the metal floor. Acorna was certain she would retain the
honeycomb pattern of the room's floor on the tender parts other anatomy, but
it was worth it to stretch out at last. The cramped journey through the
tunnels had tried her sorely; for once she envied Calum his lack of inches.

"Ha! They haven't found anything, and it's going to take them days to inspect
the entire network," Market said. He rubbed his hands together and glanced in
the direction of the AcaSeckl. He tried to peer in other directions, but his
view was restricted. "Ooops." He pulled back as if someone could have seen his
face in the window. "Guards." He peeked out again. "No more than three that I
can see. There're usually ten or twelve on hangar duty." Gleefully he washed
his hands. "We really have them running up their own . . . sorry." Markel
caught himself at Johnny's sharp nudge and shot a quick apology in Acornas
direction. "But that doesn't get us out of here."

"If we could get to the AcaSecki and power up," Calum asked Markel, "could you
patch into the Havens command centers from there and disable their
communications and other systems?"

"Nothing to it," Market nodded, preening a little.
Calum stood, shakily, and pointed at the window. "Lemme have a look?" Markel
moved aside. Calum grunted. "You're sure there're only three here now?" Markel
nodded. "What we need is a diversion . . . that is, if you can get us out of
this storage room."

"No problemo," Markel said, and, taking an odd-shaped bit of plastic from a
thigh pocket, inserted it into the door. They could all hear the light "snick"
as the lock was opened. "Only now what? Soon as I open the door, we're in
clear sight of at least two of the guards."

"And each of them would like to take credit for the recapture of Dr. Hoa,"
Johnny said, with a gleam of malice in his eyes. "If you don't mind acting as
bait. Doctor?"


"I owe the universe whatever action will repair my disastrous misjudgment,"
Dr. Hoa said with a slight bow, "even should it require the sacrifice of my
life."

"Oh, I don't think it will come to that," Calum said cheerfully, heftmg a
length of thick steel bar which he had quitetly "acquired" during their
passage through the tunnels. Acorna looked around the supply room and found a
heavy mallet, which she swung about to test its balance.

"That looks good," Johnny said, reaching for the mallet, but Acorna shook her
head.

"Find your own weapons," she told him. "I like the heft of this."

Johnny's eyebrows shot up, but he made no further protest.

"I did mention, didn't I, that she's very independent?" Calum asked drily.

"You didn't tell me the half of it," Johnny muttered, rummaging around the
cluttered room for something he could use as a weapon. He settled on a length
of thin cable that he carefully knotted around a pair of screwdrivers.

"I've got a better idea than using the good doctor as bait," Calum said.
"Markel, you said you could hack into hangar security and disable the grapples
on the AcaSeckil If you did it now, that'd distract them for a moment right
when we make our break and give us a head start on getting out of here."

"Start opening the door and get ready," Markel said, pressing more key pads.
"I got the hangar security on line and . . ."

The sound of the grapples retracting echoed throughout the large hangar. The
guards went running toward the ship, and Markel and his followers were out of
the storage room before the guards spotted them.

One of the two guards on the catwalk pounded on a device on the wall before he
followed his companion down to the hangar floor. The three guards made
straight for the AcaSeckil and the attackers made straight for them.

Acorna let her hammer fly at the nearest guard as he lifted his stunner. Her
weapon shattered his hand and sent his stunner skittering across the metal
floor, right to Market's feet. Markel picked it up and downed the top one on
the ladder, while Johnny, coming out from behind the bulk of a small
shuttlecraft, tackled the third guard before he could raise his weapon. Calum
looked around, puzzled that there was no one for him to attack.
"That was too easy," he said.

Markel was taking the stairs to the catwalk two at a time, and running along
it, checking the unlocked hatches leading into the interior of the ship.

"We're secure in here now," he called, and sauntered to the farthest ladder,
sliding down it without using the actual steps. The boy had had a lot of
practice in such acrobatics. The others followed him in more conventional
fashion but with scarcely less haste. Even though until Calum powered up they
could not lock the hatches, Acorna felt more secure once she and all her
friends were inside the AcaSecki.

"Well done, Markel," Johnny said, throwing an arm about the boys shoulders.
"But what do we do now? Once they see us leave, they merely latch the tractor
beam on us and haul us back aboard. Unless you can disable that. ..."

"Yes, that much I can still do," Markel said, "but..."

"The AcaSecki's fast," Calum said, "but, even with the tractor beam useless,
I'd be surprised if the Haven doesn't have laser cannon and missiles." Markel
nodded, looking mournful. "Both- and there's no way I can get into those
controls."

"You mean there's some security on this ship you haven't worked around?"
Johnny pretended amazement, but Markel looked so hangdog that he patted the
boy on the back and told him it didn't matter; there was more than one way to
skin a cat.

"We may not be able to get clean away," Calum said cheerfully, "but we can
activate the ship long enough to send out a spurt for help in all possible
directions, then lock down again and ... well. . ."

They all looked at one another for a long moment, acknowledging that they
might have come to the end of this particular road. Their takeover of the
AcaSecki was not likely to go unnoticed for long, no matter how cleverly
Markel disguised his jamming of the communications between the harbor and the
main deck; and they could hardly hold the little ship like a besieged
fortress.   "Well, we'll jump through that spacewarp when we come to it,"
Johnny said with a shrug, accepting the inevitable. "Better get on with it-no
telling exactly how much time Markel can buy us with his system
manipulations."

Calum started the reactivation sequence while Acorna was busy framing a spurt
code message, which she thought should so to Maganos, Kezdet (in case Mr. Li
was at home), and Laboue.

"I'm thinking ofRafiks Uharu, too," Calum said. "Won't take more than three
seconds a spurt, and it'll quadruple the chances of one message getting
through."

"First of all we send one in clear to Shenjemi Federation," Acorna said, and
when Calum opened his mouth to protest, she added firmly: "We promised." Calum
sighed. "So we did." And looked up the direction code for the Federation. The
other destinations he had already long memorized. A low whistle startled them
both as Markel, with Johnny Greene assisting Dr. Hoa, came into the main
compartment.

"This is some ship," Market said, awed.

"You can say that again," Johnny added, equally impressed as he helped Dr. Hoa
into one of the conformable chairs. "You got a galley on board?" he asked.

Acorna pointed.

"Is there a shield over the hangar entry, Markel?" Calum asked. "Our messages
could bounce right back at us if there is."

"I took that off when I disabled the grapples," the boy said absently, far
more intent on prowling around the room, running his hands over the soft
fabrics and looking into compartments in the furnishings. "There's so much
space for everything," he said, standing in the middle of the room, arms
outspread and turning slowly around.

Johnny came back with a tray full of steaming cups which he offered first to
Dr. Hoa and then to the others. "A pick-you-up," he explained. "This ship
isn't just a pretty space, its well appointed."

"Got your earphone in, Market? I'm about to spurt, and I want to know if they
catch it," Calum said.

"Gotta be outside for that," Markel said, and headed off to the hatch.   "If
they do hear us, get back inside in one helluva hurry, lad, because I'll take
off and risk their firing at us; we'll just have to hope that everyone's too
busy looking for us to see us," Calum warned.

"Gotcha," was Markel's insouciant response.

"On my mark," Calum said, raising his arm, "NOW!" He reactivated the ship and
waited tensely through the seconds before the corn unit would be ready to
function. "Anything on your end, Markel?" After a moments silence, he toggled
down the spurt relay.

"Wait!" Market cried from outside the ship. "What? You don't-" The boy's cry
was too loud to miss, and filled with an unidentifiable emotion.

Calum hit the toggle for the spurt relay and punched in the shutdown sequence
for the ship in three quick, deft motions.

"I'm sorry," he said to Acorna. "The Shenjemi message got through, I don't
know about the coded spurt to our friends; it was processing the multiple
address list when I shut down. With luck, some of the addresses will have been
cleared. Where's Market? What was he yelling about?"

As if on cue, the boy wandered in, a dazed and incredulous look on his face.
"I think it's all over."

"What's all over?" Johnny demanded.

"I think . . ." and Markel hesitated, "... I think there's been another coup.
Nueva and the others were so busy chasing us, they weren't paying attention to
the other passengers. Nueva and her gang've been taken prisoner. I think the
Starfarers-at least what are left of them--are back in charge again."

"I think we stay right where we are until we know that's what's happened,"
Johnny said, and gestured for Calum to close the hatch manually. "And let's
not reactivate the AcaSecki just yet. If everything's okay, we have plenty of
time to let our friends at home know-and if it isn't, we don't really need to
alert anybody who didn't notice that one spurt. We'll just listen in for a
bit. You can patch in to the bridge using Havens systems, can't you, Markel?"
"I think so."

With shaking hands, the boy began to do just that.


Maganos, Unified Federation Date^I.OS.lS

hariinye was too stunned to resist the security guard's firm hold on his arm.
First the children, then the man seemed to have resisted his projections. Was
there some force field in this part of the base that annulled telepathic
projections? He sought contact with the Linyaari on board the ship to reassure
himself.

(Names of the Four First Mares, what have you gotten yourself into now,
Thariinye?)

(Is this what you consider "having an inconspicuous look round"?)

(I told you he was too immature to be trusted with this responsibility.)

Wincing, Thariinye closed his mind to further contact. All right, his mental
powers were as acute as ever . . . but what he heard from the three enraged
ladies on board the ship was not in the least reassuring! He would just as
soon take his chances with the barbarians. After all, they were a puny lot; he
could crush this man's skull with one kick from his powerful hooves, if he
chose to.

(Thariinye! You'll do no such thing!)                     ,

(I am shamed that any blood kin of mine should even contemplate such a khievii
action.)

(Much too immature. I told you so.)

"Oh, do stop nattering at me!" Thariinye snapped aloud, but in Linyaari.

"Don't know what kind of foreign gabble that is, mister," the stolid security
guard said, "but iggerance of the law ain't no excuse. If'nyou don't speak
Basic, you'll get a interpreter."

"You can't take the Lady away!" one of the pestiferous brats around them cried
out.

"Kid, this guy ain't no lady," the guard said. "Now git on back toyer mining
class. I'm takin' him straight to Mr. Li."

The tallest girl nodded slowly. "I see . . . this is not Acorna." She glared
down the protests of the other children. "I know the Lady, and she is like
this one, but. . . different. Mr. Li will know ·what to do."

The guard hurried Thariinye away before the children could start any more
fuss.

"What. . . law . . . of yours ... do I break ... by existing . . . in this
form?" Thariinye had to concentrate to get the words out;

it was a harsh, tongue-mangling language, this "Basik."

The guard looked Thariinye straight in the chest . . . about where his eyes
would have been if he'd been the same height as this puny biped. So that much
of the projection was still working! The man certainly behaved as if he saw
nothing unusual in Thariinye s appearance ... so what was it that had alerted
him?

"I ain't interested in your beoootiful form and figure, mister, and neither
are them kids back there. But since you DO speak Basic, you oughta know better
than to go flashin' in a public place. Specially kids," he added. "Right down
on molesting kids, Mr. Li is, and who'd blame him, seein' what them kids
already been through? If'n it was up to me, I'd have you deported without a
space suit."

The guard s anger lifted his thought-stream momentarily out of the dull
"grubble, grubble, grubble" of normal thoughts and gave Thariinye a
devastatingly clear image of a tall, handsome, silver-haired biped making
sexual overtures to a group of shrieking children, followed by associated
images so disgusting he hastily closed his mind against them. He was so
shocked that he did not even try to persuade the guard to forget his memories
and let him go.

(You idiot, Thariinye! They must have a nudity taboo.) (Nobody TOLD me!) (I
knew we should have taken longer to study the culture.)

"Lucky for you Mr. Giloglie ordered you brought directly to Delszaki Li's
private rooms," the guard said, steering them through a side corridor that
opened onto an antechamber lined in crimson silk, -with yellow patterns on the
hangings. "There's some as would have you lynched for even thinkin' about what
you just done."

He nodded at ayoung man sitting to one side behind a carved wooden console,
and an oval opening in front of Thariinye widened like the pupil of a Linyaari
eye to admit them.

"Very good, Barnes. You may return to your regular duties now," said a
slender, dark-topped biped standing in a tense attitude of expectation just
inside the next room, a spacious chamber furnished with soft couches and small
tables.

Thariinye ducked to get through the oval opening and redoubled the force of
his projections.

(You aren't seeing anything unusual. I'm really very boring. You want me to go
away.)   The dark-topped biped swayed and put one hand to its forehead. The
gesture tightened the fabric across its chest so that Thariinye was able to
see its enlarged mammaries, large enough to indicate it was of the same gender
as Khariinya but nothing to compare with hers. Perhaps it was an immature
member of the species ... a nymphet?

"I don't know what's coming over me," she said weakly. "I thought. . . but I
did see ..."

She gazed vaguely in Thariinye s direction with eyes that clearly did not
really see him, but only something she would take as "not unusual" in this
place. "Excuse me ... do I know you?"

"Judit, what's the matter with you?" A large, red-topped biped with an amazing
display of facial hair burst through an inner door. "Acorna, where the devil
have you ..."

This one slowed, and the same confusion crossed his features. "Wait a minute.
I thought..."
He backed up through the doorway by which he'd entered, glanced up at
something, and looked back at Thariinye. "I don't get it," he said, and rubbed
his eyes. "On the vid . . . but you're not. . ."

The hiss of machinery behind him became louder; the red one stepped aside, out
of sight, and a very aged biped mounted on a floating box maneuvered through
the doorway. Thariinye had an instant impression of fragile, paper-dry,
wrinkled skin around a withered frame, bright dark eyes, and a piercing
intelligence.

(I deduce some kind of telepathic damper,) the new biped thought.

Thariinye sighed in relief. (Then your people can hear with the heart as well
as the ears?)

(It is not a well-understood talent among those of my race, but the
possibility has long been discussed. A sage of this man s people once said
that when the impossible has been discarded, what remains, however improbable,
must be the truth.)

Thariinye tossed his forelock out of his weary eyes. If this was the aged
being's first experience of mind-speech, why was he taking it so calmly? And
how had he figured it out so fast?

(You young people are so easily excited.)

Thariinye felt the dry amusement in the old being's thoughts.

(Confirmation of a long-discussed hypothesis is gratifying, not frightening!
As for deductions, I could conceive of no other hypothesis which would account
for the fact that your image appears as one like Acorna on the vid-screens,
yet all who see you in person take you for a man like us.)

(Except those blasted kids!)

(My species often claims that children's sight is purer and more truthful than
that of adults. Is this then true?)

(They're too immature for thought-speech. I suppose you could call that pure-I
call it damned inconvenient!)

(Ahh. Will be most interesting to learn details of what you call
thought-speech. But first things must come first. Let us take tea together,
and perhaps you will tell me what you know of our Acorna.)

(OUR 'Khornya,) Thariinye corrected firmly, (and it is for your people to tell
us what you have done with her.)

(There are more of you?)

(Introduce us AT ONCE, Thariinye. How could you be so rude? This is clearly
not a barbarian but a truly hnyarii being.) (You are so inconsiderate,
Thariinye!)

The aged biped's dark eyes widened, and he let out a hiss of comprehension.

"This is wonderful," he whispered aloud. "Judit, you will please make ready
tea for . . . how many?"
(There are four of us.) There didn't seem to be much point in concealing their
number when this being had so rapidly deduced so much about them.

"I don't see what is so wonderful!" said the female addressed as
"Judit"-terrible, tongue-mangling name; how would he ever manage to say it?

"We speak in mind," the old one said in his husky whisper. "I hnd is much less
tiring than manipulating vocal apparatus. You will please learn art of
mind-speak as soon as possible, my Judit. Perhaps these new ki-iin will be so
kind as to teach you." To Thariinye he suggested, (It might reduce confusion
if you were to allow my companions to see yourself in your true aspect.)

(How rude, Thariinye! One does not project illusions onto the minds of
linyarii beings to whom one has been properly introduced.)

(SHUT UP! Oh, sorry,) Thariinye sent to the old one, (not you, my aunt
Melireenya. She is the most terrible nagging- well, you'll see.)

(I look forward to meeting your companions.)

There was a gasp of amazement from the younger bipeds gathered around the old
one as Thariinye dropped his cloaking projections and stood before them as
himself: a seven-foot-tall Liinyar male in the pride of health and youth, as
good a specimen of the race, in his own humble opinion, as they could hope to
find.

The momentary silence was broken by a slender, darktopped biped -with a facial
structure resembling that of the female, but -without the enlarged glands on
its chest.

"I told you that was not Acorna," it said smugly.

(WHERE IS SHE? Oh, sorry. I did not mean to shout at you . . . but we are most
concerned for the fate of our 'Khornya.)

(Is long story. You wall please to take tea first, then when all are calm we
will discuss what is to be done.)

Thariinye was chagrined to find that this frail, ancient biped, who claimed to
have just now exercised telepathic communication for the first time, was able
to shut his mind completely to further queries. The portion of his mind that
Thariinye could reach now resembled a wall of polished green stone, so smooth
that nothing could adhere to it, so hard that nothing could penetrate it.

Once admitted to the innermost chamber, Thariinye understood how these beings
had so easily seen through his calming projections. The vid-screens
transmitted the input of mechanical image-sensing devices which, having no
thoughts, fears, or emotions, could not be confused by the Linyaari art of
projecting illusory feelings.

(Really, Thariinye. You should have realized that beings capable of some
limited form of space travel would have other mechanical devices.)

(Huh! I don't recall YOU mentioning the possibility. Aunt Melireenya.)

(The boy is right, Melireenya. We are all culpable of underrating these beings
and their intelligence. Already we have discovered that their technology,
though crude, is effective and that at least one of them is capable of clear
mind-speech. They may well have other surprises in store for us.)
(Let's hope they have something in store that'll surprise the Khieevi. Latest
communications from Home say the invasion fleet is definitely targeting this
sector.)

(First we get 'Khornya back,) Neeva put in firmly. (THEN we will tell them
about the Khieevi. We do not wish to frighten them as we did the first ones we
contacted. Thariinye, you are not to discuss the Khieevi until we are with
you, do you understand?)

(No fear, Neeva. Now that the old one has closed his mind to me, I am having
enough trouble saying ANYTHING in this horrible language of theirs. It hurts
my mouth to pronounce the words, and they are so dim they never understand
anything until I say it three times.)

Actually, Judit was pleased that her facility -with languages extended to
being able to decipher Thariinye's accent. He had wakened sooner and spent
less total time with the LAANYE than the older Linyaari had, and it showed in
his difficulty with Basic Interlingua phonemics. Her name was rendered as
Yuudhithe" and as for his apology for violating their culture's nudity taboo,
well, it was a good thing she'd had some idea what he was talking about, or
she never would have figured it out.

Once they understood that Thariinye knew no more than they about Acorna's
whereabouts. Gill and Rafik were perfectly content to let Judit do the hard
work of making conversation with Thariinye and translating his remarks into
proper Basic for their benefit, while Mr. Li took one of his quick naps in the
hover-chair and conserved his energy for the upcoming meeting.

There were fine beads of sweat along Judit's hairline, and she could feel a
tension headache gripping the back of her neck before Pal brought the other
three Linyaari to Mr. Li's inner room.

(At least you haven't gotten into any more trouble while w6 were on our way.)

(You can relax now, Thaari. We'll take care of everything.)

"Missiter Li," Thariinye said, "allow me to initraduuse mi khomipaanians." He
would have gritted his teeth if it had been possible to do so while working
his mouth around the harsh syllables of the alien language. Wasn't it just
like Melireenya to come swanning in and take over after he had taken the risks
and done all the really hard work? "Neeva of the Renyilaaghe, visedhaanye
ferilii. Melireenya of the Balaave, gheraalye ve-khanyii. Khaari of the
Giryeeni, gheraalye malivii." At least the Linyaari names flowed easily off
his tongue, and he did not put himself to the trouble of translating their
titles.

"Inn your speech," Neeva said easily, "I believe I would be knownn as Enyvoy
Extraordinyari. My companyaan Melireenya is our Senior Communyications
Officer, and Khaari is our Navighation Officer."

Gill nodded stiffly; Rafik bowed; Pal took the envoy's hand and bowed over it,
touching his lips to the back of the blunt fingers so like his Acorna's. The
pupils of Neeva's eyes narrowed briefly to silver slits, then widened again.
The fleeting expression was so like Acorna's that Judit felt tears spring to
her eyes.

"We are honored to make your acquaintance," she murmured for Mr. Li, unaware
that he was already speaking to the newcomers in their own private manner.

(Is indeed great honor to be the first of our race to greet others of Acorna's
kind.)

(Not exactly the first. But that first lot wouldn't even-)

(Thariinye!)

Delszaki Li glanced at Judit, and she moved closer to him, the better to hear
his labored whisper. "Can they understand languages other than Basic?" he
whispered in his mother's native tongue, which was a first language for more
than half the people of Kezdet.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance," Judit said promptly in the same
language. Neeva's eyes narrowed to silver slits again.

(Honored Li, I apologize. We thought we had learned your tongue already, but I
cannot follow what this person is saying.)

(Not to be concerned. Takes some time to understand obscure idioms of Basic,)
Li responded. He quickly called up the image of the Jade Palace to shield his
mind once again, lest the Linyaari pick up some hint of his innermost
thoughts. "Judit, be polite to our guests," he reprimanded her, "speak Basic,
and slowly."

Judit blushed and apologized for her carelessness and gave no sign that she
had acted under Mr. Li's orders to begin with.

Delszaki Li was severely embarrassed to confess to the Linyaari that he had
lost track ofAcorna only shortly before her own people came for her, and he
made no effort to conceal his feelings from them. (My house is shamed. I will
tell you that we took all possible care for Acorna from day of her finding,
but how will you believe this when now she is lost? Descendants of Li will be
mourning this day through centuries to come.)

When this was said aloud, Rafik interpolated, "Excuse me, Mr. Li, but let us
not say yet that Acorna is lost. We know her intended destination - "

"But not the route," Gill put in.

Rafik's lips twitched. "More than you might think can be deduced from
intelligent study of the star maps, Declan Giloglie. Given what we know of the
accident to the hydroponics section of the Aca^ecki- "

"On't-day ee-bay inay uch-say ay uny-hay oo-tay ell-tay em-thay allay ou-yay
ow-knay," Gill interrupted. Lacking the multilingual background shared by Li
and the Kendoros, he had independently come to his own conclusion about how
best to converse privately in front of beings who could learn Basic overnight.

"Why not?" Rafik demanded.

Gill glanced at the envoys. "Ee-way on't-day ow-knay oowhay ey-thay eally-ray
are-ay," he said. "Ey-thay ight-may eebay ee-thay eople-pay oo-whay
arooned-may Corna-Ay."

Rafik put his hand on Gill's arm and drew the larger man into the antechamber.

"Stop making a bloody fool of yourself with that pig Latin," he whispered.
"We've got no reason to mistrust them."

"We've got no reason to trust them, either," Gill returned in a furious
whisper. "SOMEBODY set Acorna adrift to die in space; until we find out who
and why, we're not turning her over to the first funny-looking strangers to
waltz in and demand her!"

Rafik's lips twitched. "At the moment," he murmured, "we can't turn her over,
can we? So while I'm studying the star maps, why don't you sit down with the
Linyaari and find out what they have to say about Acorna? "

By that time the tea Mr. Li had requested was ready, and the small social
ceremony helped to alleviate the strain all parties were feeling. Knowing
Acorna's tastes, he had ordered a blend of herbal tea with alfalfa for the
envoys, served in the handleless cups favored by Acorna, while the humans,
with their more slender and more flexible digits, drank smoky Kilumbemba
Oolong from cups with delicate porcelain handles. Melireenya took pains to
tell Judit aloud that she had noticed and did very much appreciate this
evidence of attention to their tastes.

"Is no trouble," Mr. Li whispered, so that humans as well as Linyaari could
understand them. "We have learned much from our beloved Acorna. Now we hope to
learn more from you. Origin of Acorna is still mystery. Gill, you will tell of
finding her?"

Gill cleared his throat and briefly recounted their discovery of Acorna,
asleep in what they had later deduced was an escape pod, drifting close to an
asteroid he and Calum and Rafik had been mining. He downplayed the work the
three of them had put into raising the foundling, not to mention the fact that
they had lost their jobs and almost lost their ship, to protect her from
becoming the ward of Amalgamated Mining and subject to whatever experiments
their Linguistics and Psych department could dream up, but his affection for
Acorna came through underlying every word and moved the Linyaari envoys
deeply. He skipped the tangled tale of her adventures on Kezdet and ended by
explaining that Calum had come up with an ingenious theory for locating
Acorna's home world and that he and Acorna had just taken off in search of
it-unfortunately without filing a navigation plan.

(One chance in mitanyaakhi!) Neeva silently exclaimed. (Vaanye could not
possibly have foreseen that the explosion would not only transport Acorna out
of danger but would bring her to another populated sector of the galaxy . . .
and into the hands of these good Linyaari who raised her as one of their own.)

(Calm down, Neeva. Good they may be, perhaps even linyarii to a degree, but
they are not Linyaari, and I for one am not sure how far we may trust them.)

(You are too cynical! Can't you feel the truth and love in this large red
one's mind?)

(I agree with Neeva. This one at least is linyarii, if not technically
Linyaari. We should tell them the truth of our mission.)

(We don't know that all of them are good people. From this man Ghiil's story
alone it is clear that some, at least, of this race think nothing of
experimenting on other sapient beings. Such behavior strikes me as more
khievii than linyarii. Let us go slowly here.)

"So," Gill finished, "that's what we know about Acorna. And what we're all
curious to find out is, exactly how did one of your younglings come to be
floating in our sector, in a pod that couldn't have kept her alive many more
hours, with no signal to alert anyone to her existence? You folks seem mighty
concerned for her now; strikes me you've come a long way to retrieve somebody
who seems to've been thrown out with the trash in the first place." He rested
his big, heavy-knuckled hands on his knees and looked from one of the envoys
to another, his bright blue eyes challenging them to account for the plight in
which they had found Acorna.

(Neeva?)

(What do you think, Neeva? Shall we tell them?)

(You are the envoy, Neeva, and 'Khornya is your sister-child. The decision is
yours.)

"Well?" Gill challenged as the silence after his speech stretched on and on.
Most of the humans in the room waited eagerly for the Linyaari complement to
Gill's story; only Raflk, once more absorbed in his star maps and
calculations, -was oblivious to the mounting tension as the Linyaari looked at
one another but did not speak.

(We love Acorna as our own child,) Delszaki Li told them. (We 'will not give
her over to those who may have sought to destroy her in the first place.) He
repeated his words aloud so that the other humans could understand the
statement. Judit nodded firmly, Pal folded his arms, and Gill merely shifted
his weight a little forward, like a man in a bar anticipating that fists might
soon start swinging.

(The red one does not look so linyarii now, Neeva. He looks quite capable of
violence. Do you really want to trust this race on so little evidence?)

(I would not give up my worst enemy to the Khieevi,) Neeva replied violently.
(We are ethically obliged to tell them.)

(What if they throw us out and shut down like that first bunch?)

(We will have to take that risk. Anyway, I think they are telling the truth
when they say that they do not know where Acorna is now. We have as good a
chance of finding her as they do; in fact, if this Khaalum's deductions are
correct, she may reach Home before we do!)

Thariinye snorted aloud. (They may be very nice bipeds, but their technology
has some major gaps, and most of them can't even mind-speak. I shouldn't be
surprised to learn that this Khaalum has gone haring off in absolutely the
wrong direction. At least find out where they think he might have gone before
you tell them.)

While this silent colloquy went on, Delszaki Li murmured with Pal and Judit in
rapid Old Magyar. "They are concealing something from us; I can sense the
shields in their minds. Also there is fear and guilt."

"They'll have to tell us more before we give away anything about Acorna.
You've said too much already," Pal said, then bit his lip. He had never before
ventured to criticize his employer and benefactor.

"Fear you may be right," Mr. Li whispered.

Gill glowered at being shut out of this exchange, even though he understood
the necessity for using some language other than Basic Interlingua. Feeling
useless among all these polyglots and telepaths, he rose and went over to look
at the lines of light Rafik's calculations had produced on the projected star
maps.

Thariinye felt much the same. All three of the senior Linyaari were looking at
him with deep disapproval, as though taking reasonable precautions against an
unknown race were a khievii act on an ethical par with eating one's young. He
could not remove himself from the mental discussion, but he could-and did-
leave the tea table to stroll across to the wall of projected star maps, where
he leaned over Gill's shoulder and studied the display with growing interest.
It was difficult to read, and showed the heavens at entirely the wrong angle,
but as he began to understand the alien notation he was able to mentally map
these images onto the three-dimensional picture of the stars in space that he
carried in his head.

As anybody who has proved even the simplest geometric theorem knows, there is
a mental language of geometry that exists independently of any spoken
language. First comes a kinesthetic sense of the "meaning" of the theorem-a
sort of "Aha! If this moves over there then that has to swing round this point
about so far, so it will always be the same length as that-over-there."
Afierward comes the laborious process of translating the intuition into Line
AB and Point C and so forth and so on.

Thariinye, looking on as Rafik muttered calculations and traced lines of light
on the projection, was able to follow the logic of Rafik's thinking in these
intuitive terms. And when he touched Rafik's arm, waggled his eyebrows, and
suggested that an arc be minutely widened to cover a slightly greater
subsection of space, Rafik frowned, nodded, and changed the light-diagram
without the necessity of a word being said. But at the next suggested course
correction, Rafik shook his head violently. "You don't understand," he said.
"We know there is a fault in the hydropon^s unit." He had to repeat that very
slowly before Thariinye waggled his eyebrows to show comprehension. "They must
stop before they leave our explored space. The question is, where would they
be most likely to stop for supplies? If Calum took this route, he could pick
from a salad bar of ag planets in these two star systems; if he took this one,
there's nothing, he'd have to backtrack. But I'm betting he would pick neither
the quickest route nor the worst one. Something shaped like a corkscrew ·would
appeal to the shifty bastard. And that would bring him out somewhere near
here." Rafik tapped a point representing a distant sun to bring up a closer
view of the system. One panel darkened, then displayed a glowing white outline
within which was shown a reddish sun with only three planets orbiting it, two
far too close to support the temperate-region greens Acorna favored.

Thariinye reached out and touched the image of the third planet. It looked
right to him: a little larger than Home, far enough from the sun to be in the
right temperature range, slightly tilted in its elliptical orbit. Two moons,
one large enough to cause tides, the other a mere speck, orbited the planet.

The panel beeped, the color of its glowing outline changed to green, and a
close-up view of the selected world appeared. Thariinye studied the
arrangement of continents and seas approvingly. Yes, this world might well
have an ideal climate for farmers. He extended one finger to touch a pattern
of light blue triangles and diamonds that looked like a string of beads
scattered across the largest continent, and waggled his eyebrows at Rafik
rather than hurt his mouth framing a question in this awkward language.

"Ag settlements," Rafik said, "and one spaceport." He indicated the six-armed
star set toward the bottom of the chain of blue marks.

(Neeva. They are heading in the right direction.)

(Wonderful!)

(No. Not wonderful. Come and look!)

Thariinye extended his hand with an imperious gesture. Rafik raised his own
brows, but after a moment looking in the young Liinyar's eyes, he gave him the
laser drawing tool.

"Res-taare fiirist diispla?"

After a moments pause, Rafik said, "Oh-restore first display? Sure." He
snapped his fingers twice. The panel showing a close-up view of Rushima faded
back into the general picture.   With swift, sure gestures Thariinye sketched
many parallel lines of light, originating at the far upper right of the screen
and approaching the human-settled portion of the galaxy at an oblique angle
that would shortly cut right across the bottom of the screen, passing directly
through the solar system that hosted Rushima.

(Look, Melireenya, Neeva, Khaari. Our 'Khornya is going here, and so)
-Thariinye tapped the parallel bands of light-(are the Khieevi. There is
probability eighty-nine percent that the first world they destroy will be the
one for which 'Khornya is bound. We have no more time to debate -we must trust
these barbar .. . ) He jammed the brakes on that thought. ( ... these linyarii
beings.) They had better be truly linyarii, for all their sakes!

Neeva's pupils narrowed to threadlike lines of silver as she took in the
devastating message of the star map. She could not make the mental translation
to their notation and angle of view as rapidly as Thariinye had done.

(Navigation Officer! Do you concur with Thaaris conclusion?)

Khaari rose and joined Thariinye close to the   display. After a moment her own
pupils narrowed like Melireenya s. (About the   Khieevi he is correct. Envoy. As
for the route supposedly taken by 'Khornya, I   cannot say. It is certainly a
possible way to approach our sector . . . but   it seems unnecessarily
roundabout.)

(This dark one has explained it to me,) Thariinye broke in. ('Khornya left
without the permission of these beings. They believe she has taken an unusual
route in order to avoid messages ordering her to return.)

All four of the Linyaari turned to stare at the humans sitting round the
table.

"Something's wrong," Judit murmured to the others. "Look at their eyes."
Acorna's slit-pupiled look of grief or emotional tension was repeated four
times over in the long, elegant faces confronting them.

"Delszaki Li." Neeva spoke aloud, carefully, and with only a slight lingering
trace of accent in certain syllables. "We . . . haave not been . . . enitirely
open with you. We haad anyother purpose in comiin to your people."

"Is obvious," Li whispered. "Was wondering how long it would take you to admit
it. Now we speak freely?"

"Yes, fireeli," Neeva said. "Iss little time." (Calculate expected time of
arrival of Khieevi fleet. Navigation Officer! You will aid. Computation
Specialist Thariinye! I want an estimate before they ask for one! It is time
to take action!)

Maganos, Unified Federation Date 554.05.18



Neeva began to tell the story of the Khieevi invasion of the First Home,
haltingly in the beginning, then with more assurance as her tongue became
accustomed to the awkward syllables of the speech called "Basik."

"Vhiliinyar we called it: 'Home of the People.' What need for another name?
And our star was called 'Light of the People.' Other stars, other lands, we
named as we first ventured into space: named for their position, for their
discoverers, for the color of their light or the quality of their resources.
We took what we needed from other systems, and groups of the People dwelt away
from Vhiliinyar for a time to explore and use these other lands, but there was
only one Home, and now it is no more."

"Vhiliinyar thiinyethilelen, fiinyefalaran Vhiliinyar," murmured the    other
three Linyaari in their own tongue, a soft ritual plaint of mourning    that
needed no translation. "We see that your race has seeded itself over    many star
systems," Neeva continued. Have you, then, experience of the Khieevi    already,
that you protect yourselves by this diversity? "

"Population pressure," Gill said. He gave a quick estimate of we rate at
-which human populations tended to expand, given sufficient food, and Neeva's
pupils slitted to silvery lines. "I see! We do not reproduce so quickly," she
said with regret. "Many generations will pass before the People recover from
the devastation created by the Khieevi. Your race may yet be more fortunate.
Even though they destroy one or many worlds, yet will others of you survive
and replace those who are lost."

"I think," Pal prompted gently, "you had best tell us exactly what you know of
these 'Khieevi.' Where do they come from, what are their customs, and what is
the reason for the war between your races? Are they humanoid or completely
other? What have they said to you?"

Neeva shook her head. "If I knew these things, I would surely tell you. They.
. . they do not Communicate. They destroy;

and before they destroy, they torture. Of their tongue we have too few samples
for the LAANYE to analyze; of their physical structure we know only what is
shown on the broadcasts they have sent to cow us into submission. When their
first ships appeared in our space, we sent envoys to them, as we have come to
you, in peace and friendship. Those envoys never returned, but we know their
fate from the images sent back to us. I think I wall not show you those vids;
there is no need to harrow your hearts with the images engraved on ours. Our
envoys, and all of the People who have subsequently fallen into Khieevi hands,
have been tortured to death as slowly as Khieevi arts permitted. Fortunately
for us," she added drily, "they were initially unaware of how fragile our
bodies must be compared to theirs; the first captives died quickly. Since then
they have learned more of our physiology."

She explained that at the time of the first Khieevi attacks, the Linyaari had
been a space-faring race but not a warlike one; it was all but impossible to
make war on or harm beings whose grief and pain you could feel, through
telepathic contact, as clearly as your own. Gentleness and empathy had been
bred into Linyaari culture until any other way of being was all but
unthinkable. And although they had, in their explorations of space,
encountered other sapient aliens, none of those races had been so well
developed or so powerful as to force the Linyaari to learn the arts of war-or
even of elementary self-defense. The only real change caused by their
encounters with other races had been the development of the LAANYE, the
linguistic analyzer which allowed them to acquire a basic understanding of
alien languages from a relatively small speech sample.

"Strange that they would develop such a device when they had no prior
experience of language translation," Rafik commented sotto voce.

"Is logical development," Mr. Li contradicted him in a whisper. "No different
languages among their own people, hence no false generalizations as to 'true
nature of language' such as human linguists produce. Also no development of
natural ability to learn other languages, perhaps no brain structures adapted
to such task. Is only logical these most intelligent beings would turn to
technology for solution."

Rafik shrugged. Having been brought up trilingual, in the Arabic and Armenian
of his family house and the Basic of interstellar commerce, he could not even
imagine a world in which all intelligent beings spoke but one language and
regarded other tongues as codes to be broken by communications software.

"From the Khieevi," Neeva said, "we learned the arts of war . . . but not
quickly enough. First we fled them, abandoned Vhiliinyar rather than commit
violence against other sapient beings . . . but not all. Too many of the
People refused to believe the evidence of the Khieevi 'casts; it was beyond
their comprehension that any beings could attack others in this fashion. They
learned . . . too late . . . and the Khieevi showed us what happened to them.
Even if the Khieevi were to abandon Vhiliinyar now, the People who remain
could not return. The land would be alive with the memory of pain and
betrayal; the water would be tainted with the blood of innocents."

"Vhiliinyar thiinyethilelen, fiinyefalaran Vhiliinyar," repeated the other
Linyaari.

Neeva went to the star map and asked Thariinye to make it display the Coma
Berenices quadrant. With Rafik's help, the projection was changed, and using
the laser pointer, Neeva traced lines of light showing the Linyaari dispersion
to planets in other systems, far enough away, they hoped, to evade Khieevi
notice. This flight had bought them enough time to adapt their technology to
space war and defense systems, and also time enough to establish certain
stringent rules for all their people. "No more Linyaari shall die under
Khieevi torture," Neeva told them. "We have all taken a vow to die at our own
hands before falling into the claws of the Khieevi. For some years this was
not necessary. Having conquered Vhiliinyar, and our neighboring world of
Galleni, the Khieevi did not move again for a time. But we did not cease our
studies and explorations. We have had two objects; to find a way of traveling
much farther and faster than any known spacecraft, so that we might escape the
Khieevi for good; and to develop defense systems that might annihilate the
Khieevi, both in our own defense and so that other races might not be totally
exterminated like the dharmakoi of Galleni."

"Galleni thiinyethilelen, fiinyefalaran dharmakoi," murmured the other
Linyaari.

"One of our foremost scientists, Vaanye of the Renyilaaghe, had adapted his
researches into the topology of space to weapons research shortly before his
death," Neeva told them. "He had discovered a way of temporarily collapsing
the dimensional fabric of space at a selected point, which created an
inordinately large and destructive explosion at the point of origin. Vaanye
had told us only that there were a few minor side effects to use of the
weapon, such as the fact that it destroyed whoever employed it as well as the
intended target, when he and his life-mate made the mistake of taking a short
cruise in order to show their first youngling to ... me." Neevas pupils
narrowed into vertical silver lines of distress. "My sister Feriilawas Vaanye
s ... wife," she explained, "and I had been on duty at an outlying planet in
the same system, attempting to establish diplomatic relations with a race of
large quadrupeds which at first contact had appeared to be sapient. This was
later proved to be an error; they had neither language nor social organization
nor any long-term memory. It was an error which cost Feriila her life, for
Vaanye s cruise coincided with the Khieevi discovery of this star system. Our
new planetary defenses thwarted their first attack-but Vaanye, in space, had
no such defenses. For three ghaanyi we have believed that Vaanye destroyed
Feriila, their youngling, and the ship rather than allow them to be captured
by the Khieevi. We were astonished to discover that an escape pod from
Vaanye's ship had survived the explosion only to be transported to this remote
sector of space . . . and even more surprised to find that my sisterchild had
been raised to maturity among you."

"Ha!" Pal exploded. "So you didn't come for Acorna."

Neeva inclined her head with a graceful gesture that indirectly reproved Pal.

"No. Since our present planetary defense systems have at least temporarily
repelled the Khieevi attack, we have observed that the number of their ships
near the systems we inhabit is greatly diminished. Some of our people
conjecture that their fleet has gone in search of other, easier worlds to
conquer. With the smaller number of Khieevi ships patrolling our space, it was
possible to send out parties of envoys with some hope of escaping Khieevi
detection. We felt it our duty to discover if any other sapient races might
exist in the path of the Khieevi fleet, and to warn them if such existed."

"Did you know they were coming this way, then?" Gill asked.

"There were several paths they might logically have taken. We sent groups out
in all such directions." Neeva paused, her pupils narrowing again. "Not all
ships made a successful escape from the remaining Khieevi . . . but ours did,
and we were instructed to continue on our way. Recent transmissions from
narhii-Vhiliinyar-you would say. New Home-have emphasized the urgency of our
task, as it is now known that a large Khieevi fleet is indeed making a sweep
toward this sector of space. We hope to make alliance with you, to share our
technology and what we have learned of the Khieevi with whatever resources
your race can muster, that they may not fall upon you unwarned as they did us.
And now, as well, we hope to find my sister-child and bring her back to the
People ... if she can be saved from the Khieevi into whose path she is
heading."

Gill had been moving restlessly in his seat, bursting with questions. How and
when had the Linyaari seen Acorna's escape pod and learned of her existence?
Who had told them to look for her here on Maganos Moon Base? And why had they
been so secretive and indirect in their first approaches on Maganos? But
Neeva's last statement thrust all his previous questions into the background.

"Great Gods, woman," he roared, "do you mean to tell us these beasts are
headed for Rushima? Why the devil did you draw it out so long? Rafik, send a
coded spurt to Rushima immediately! There's no time to waste!"

"Gently, Gill," whispered Mr. Li. "Is important to know all salient facts.
Right action can arise only from right understanding."

"I should think the action needed is obvious enough!"

"Declan Giloglie," said Judit firmly, "chill."

Gill subsided into his chair, muttering into his quivering red beard, and
Rafik looked at Judit with new respect.

"How did you do that?" he murmured in her ear.
"Practice," Judit replied, equally quietly. "My first employer on Kezdet had a
hunting dog which it was my responsibility to train. Behavioral training
principles turn out to be applicable across species."

"When we have a moment," Rafik responded, "I want to see if you can get him to
heel."

Judit's lips twitched. "No, but given the right motivation he ·will sit up and
beg."

Rafik intercepted a meaningful glance from Mr. Li and, abandoning this
badinage, he slipped out of the room to consult with Li's secretary about the
fastest route by which to send a coded spurt-message to Rushima for immediate
transmission to the Acadecki. The message would have to have a header that
would persuade Calum and Acorna not to reject it unheard, yet it must not
contain anything that would start a general panic on Rushima. Hmm . . . Wasn't
Rushima an outlying colony of the Shenjemi Federation? Best apprise the
Federation, too, of the situation ... or as much as could be encapsulated in
the very condensed but fast-traveling spurt. Let the Shenjemi decide whether
to defend or evacuate Rushima; Rafik s first responsibility was to get Acorna
and Calum out of there at once. Then perhaps the Linyaari envoys could set up
a communication link with the Shenjemi to discuss their next step.

The messages sent, Rafik returned to the deliberations in Mr. Li's innermost
office. All the interior walls except the one devoted to vid-screens now
glowed with star maps; arcs of light radiated from one system to another, and
geometric shapes denoting star fleets moved with agonizingly deliberate
velocity to converge on the Rushimese system as various parties put forward
their suggestions for mobilizing a defense against the Khieevi attack. Gill
pointed out that Kezdet's own Guardians of the Peace had a large space fleet
at their command, testimony to Kezdet's acquisitive ways and tendency to
demand "taxes" or "reparations" from neighbors on the slightest excuse.

At his command, the star-map projector displayed a fleet of golden rhomboids
moving from Kezdet toward Rushima, but taking a far more direct route than
that presumably chosen by Calum. "They could be there within five days."

"You can't be serious!" Judit flared up at him. "Shake hands with Kezdet,
count your fingers," she quoted a proverb popular in this and neighboring star
systems. Pal nodded his agreement. Having escaped the infamous system of child
bondage on which Kezdet's old industrial empire had been built, a system
protected by the Guardians of the Peace, neither of the Kendoros was inclined
to trust a Kezdet Guardian in the slightest.

"Oh, they're not all that bad," Rafik said. "Smirnoff and Mmkus, for instance
-"

"Smirnoff's a psychopath!" Gill interjected. "And out for your blood, in case
you've forgotten."

"True," Rafik nodded, "but he did save my life by disarming the bomb Tapha
meant to kill me with. Whatever else you may say against Des Smirnoff, he's no
coward."

Gill snorted. "Maybe not, but he's still an idiot. Remember who let Tapha get
past security with that bomb in the first place? No, thank you. We don't need
clowns like Smirnoff and Minkus in this operation. They're liable to get your
whole hand blown off instead of just taking a couple of fingers!"
"This insignificant old person has dealt with Kezdet for many years and still
has all fingers intact, though unfortunately not functioning," Mr. Li pointed
out. "But Kezdet fleet is designed tor small-time piracy and aggression on
weaker neighbors. Gill, not for defense against armada. Send Guardians to
Rushima is to sign their death sentence."

"Well, now," said Pal and Judit simultaneously, their brows clearing, "if you
put it that way ..."

"Besides," Li added, "Kezdet is not known for altruism. Will hardly strip
their system of defenses in order to protect agricultural colony belonging to
Shenjemi Federation."

"Rafik, has Shenjemi responded to the spurt yet?"

Rafik glanced at the small portable com unit which he had set to display all
incoming messages from Shenjemi-or Rushima.

"More or less."

A voluminous spurt from Shenjemi was still being expanded and decoded; the
words scrolled across Rafik's screen as he watched.

"First, they request proof that this so-called attack on Rushima is not a
hoax, and they want to know what connection this message has with the spurt
they recently received from Rushima claiming the planet was under attack by
space pirates."

"The Khieevi-already?" Judit paled.

"I don't think so," Rafik replied. "The Rushimese seem to think they're being
attacked by some group called the Starfarers. . . . Now, where have I heard
that name before? Oh, yes. . . . Uncle Hafiz mentioned them once; they used to
be the Free Nation of Esperantza. Amalgamated diddled them out of the planet
they'd just settled and stripped it for mineral assets, but they refused to
take the resettlement offer-claimed they'd been cheated and would settle for
nothing less than having Esperantza restored and returned to them. They turned
their space station into a mobile colony and have been wandering around for
yonks, staging protests and doing odd jobs in space to finance themselves.' He
frowned. "But they were always very ethical.. . obnoxiously ethical. I can't
see them turning to piracy, no matter how hard up they were. This must be some
other group with the same name."

"Besides," Gill said, "Rushima s not exactly the ideal target for pirates, is
it? What sort of loot could they take off an ag planet? Loads of grain? Some
nicely rotting silage?"

"To get back to the Shenjemi Federation," Rafik said, "they have sent a spurt
direct to Rushima requesting confirmation and have as yet received no reply;
third, Rushima's ROI-return on investment," he translated for the Linyaari,
"is too low to justify the expense of a full-scale defense. They are
considering sending a small fleet to evacuate the planet and relocate the
colonists, should there be any basis for our 'hysterical' message." He
shrugged slightly and touched the display of red stars for Shenjemi ships to
stop the forward movement of the simulation. "Let's hope they make up their
minds in time. How much time do we have?"

(Khaari?)

(I'm working on it!)
(Between one and two enye-ghanyii,) Thariinye announced.

Khaari sighed and rolled her eyes. (I hate to admit it, Neeva, but the brat's
probably right. I'm trying to get you a closer estimate.)

(Brat! I like that! You're only one age group ahead of me, Khaari!)

(Children, quit squabbling! I can't hear myself think!)

After a few minutes' consultation with Judit and Gill, Neeva said, "If the
Khieevi observe Rushima and choose to take it, they will probably begrnn
operations in ... I think eight to"-she counted on her digits for a minute,
murmuring-"I do wish somebody would add arithmetic capabilities to the LAANYE;
I cannot add in base tenn." She muttered to herself in Linyaari for a moment,
then lifted her head. "Yes. Two-tenn to six-tenn of your days."

"Twenty to sixty?" Gill asked hopefully. "Or twelve to sixteen?"

The number words were within the LAANYE's capacity, if the arithmetic was not.

"Twelfto six-teen," Neeva said firmly.

Gill whistled. "You didn't give yourselves much lead time, did you?"

"Be reasonable. Gill," Judit said. "They risked their lives to get away from
narhii-Vhiliinyar at all. Are you going to criticize them because they reached
us just ahead of the Khieevi?"

"It's a whole lot better than getting here just after the invasion," Pal
pointed out.

"Let's just hope the Shenjemi Federation get their collective finger out in
time." Gill said. "And in the meantime, let's have Acorna out of there. Rafik,
what word from Rushima? They must have received our spurt by now."

Rafik shook his head. "It didn't get through." "WHAT? ? ? " Gill lunged half
out of his chair. "What did You do wrong'

"Chill," Rafik said firmly. He was disappointed to see that the word was not
effective when it wasn't delivered in Judit's calm voice. "Look, Gill, nothing
is getting through to Rushima right now. The Shenjemi couldn't raise a reply
either. And the AcaSecki isn't receiving OR transmitting."

"If these Khieevi have already got there-"

"Imm-possible," Thariinye said in an atrocious accent, but with great
authority.

"More likely it's space weather," Rafik pointed out. "A bad disturbance in the
ionosphere could bring satellite communications down for several hours, even
days."

Judit touched Delszaki Li's desk-console screen with one finger, murmured a
few words, then tapped the screen again. "Unlikely. The Galacticapedia says
Rushima is noted for its temperate and even climate. Atmospheric and
ionospheric storms are virtually unknown."

"In any case," Mr. Li put in, "dare not wait days, or even hours. Someone must
go to warn Rushima, and to bring Acorna and Calum back. Here, we continue to
resend spurt message, make plans for defense, encourage Shenjemi to evacuate
Rushima."

"And what happens if the Khieevi bypass Rushima?" Rafik asked.

"They find richer pickings closer in," Gill said grimly. "Depending on their
tastes. . . . Neeva, what do these Khieevi want?"

Neeva shook her head. "You know the fate of our envoys. We have never
established communication; whatever they want, it is not that. I know only
what they do. They destroy."

"Do they colonize the planets they take? Are they looking for living space?"

Neeva thought that over. "They . . . yes, they now inhabit Vhiliinyar; but our
scouts report that we would not know our home again. They . .. they ..." She
choked, could not find words in Basic to describe the devastation, but
Delszaki Li's eyes widened as he took in the images of desolation that filled
her mind and the thoughts of the other Linyaari.

"Valleys and green hills become plains," he said, straining his voice to
communicate what he perceived to the others. "Orchards and cities are leveled.
All native life is destroyed, down to the insects in the air and the bacteria
in the earth. A river becomes a foul marsh breeding clutches of small Khieevi
in the thousands. Dry land is an ocean of grass in which the mature Khieevi
fly. And the bones of the Linyaari are piled in monuments."

"The Mongols meant to do the same to Western Europe, once," Rafik said. "It
would have been in the"~he paused and flicked fingers swiftly over the string
of amber beads knotted in his belt-"in the thirteenth century, Old Reckoning.
Chroniclers of the time say they advanced like locusts, devouring and
destroying all before them, and attacking so swiftly that the mounted knights
of the West had no time to assemble a defense. Impregnable walled cities went
down before them, whole lands were depopulated, and they boasted that they
would make of the entire world nothing but a vast steppe over which they might
ride wherever they would. Fortunately," he said, "this was before our people
had space travel, so it did not occur to them to extend the devastation to
other planets."

Neeva drew in her breath in shock at this revelation.

(Did you hear that? Their own histories recount such behavior!)

(Have we made a mistake in seeking alliance with them? Perhaps they are more
khievii than linyarii after all.)

(What choice did we have?)

(I think we are safe enough. They, too, have no choice. How could they ally
with the Khieevi, who destroy anyone who lingers long enough to communicate
with them? They must help us to turn back the Khieevi, else their own worlds
will suffer as did our Home.)

Gill thought the Linyaari simply had nothing much to say.

"Very interesting, Rafik," he said. "But the Mongols did not succeed. I've
seen Earth; its not a featureless steppe, and Europe has cities and monuments
dating from long before the time you mention. So what turned them back?"

Pal and Judit turned to Rafik, hopeful.                 ·' Rafik shook his
head slightly. "Their leader at home died," he said, "and they thought it was
more important to go home and vote than to continue the conquest; they could
always destroy Europe some other time. Fortunately, they never got back to
it."

"Oh," Gill said, disappointed. "I don't suppose we can count on that happening
again. You'll just have to think up some ruse, Rafik."

"Me?"

"You and Delszaki Li are the brains of this outfit," Gill told him blandly.
"Me, I'm just a simple, horny-handed son of the lunar regolith. You two work
out how humanity is going to exterminate this swarm of killer bees, and I'll
just pop off to Rushima and fetch our Acorna home again. Mr. Li, what's the
fastest ship Maganos has available right now?"

"Wait just a minute," Rafik protested. "You'll go for Acorna? Excuse me, but I
believe I have some interest in this matter as ·well."

"And I, "said Pal.

"You're not going anywhere without me," Judit said.

"You two can't go," Gill protested, "Mr. Li needs you. And Rafik has to stay
here and think."

"I could think just as well on board a ship as anywhere else, Rafik said, "and
anyway, I'm not nearly twisty enough to solve this problem. What we need is
somebody who can persuade all the major planetary federations to disburse
large sums of cash and most of their defense systems, up front, to guard
against an alien threat that they've never heard of and that is being
described only by some other aliens."

He paused, appalled at the magnitude of the task, so described.

"What we need, in fact," he said finally, "is Uncle Hafiz." He pounded one
fist into his palm in frustration. "And he is walled up behind the Shield,
where no one can communicate with him ... or the rest of Laboue ... at all."

(Walled up behind the 'Shield'? Khaari, I have a bad feeling about this. Do
you suppose that first planet we approached . . . )

(Oh, no!)

(Oh, yes.)

Aloud, Neeva said, "Where is it, this Laboue?"

"Not on the maps," Rafik said. "My uncle and the others who make it their
headquarters prefer their privacy. And I am sworn to House Harakamian now; on
the lives of my unborn sons, I may not tell you its location."

Neeva nodded. "Tell us nothinn, thenn," she acquiesced, "but I am not
forbiddenn to tell you that before we approached you onn Maganyos . . .
Maganos," she corrected herself, "we had made contact by vid with residents of
another planet on the fringes of your settled area, the first one we
identified. Since at that time we did not have the LAANYE programmed to teach
us your language, we attempted to communicate by vid; we showed them some of
the scenes broadcast from Khieevi torture ships, to make them aware of the
danger. We received a brief vidcast from the planet.. . there was a biped .. .
human .. . dark as you, Rafik, who showed us pictures of Acorna and a drawing
of her escape pod. That was how we learned of her existence. But before we
could question this human further, the entire planet was shut down under an
impenetrable shield that blocked all communication, even visual transmission.
Our only clue was a message sent from the location we had been communicating
with, indecipherable but for the one word 'Acorna.' That message went to a
ship which then departed hastily in this direction; we followed the ship to
Maganos in the hope that its owner might lead us to Acorna."

She inclined her head gracefully toward Rafik. (Khaari, point out the location
of that first planet on these maps.)

Khaari took a light-wand and illuminated a star some distance from Maganos and
lying well away from the more populous parts of this sector.

"I very much fear," Neeva went on, "that it is we who were responsible for
your . . . your mother- sib's retreat behind the shield."

Rafik looked at the illuminated area, lips set in a grim line. "Without
breaking my oath to House Harakamian," he said, "I think I can say that you
are very probably correct. And you know," he went on in a slightly more
hopeful tone, "perhaps it's not Uncle Hafiz's brains we need so much just now
. . . perhaps what we need is the Shield. If such a device could be installed
on every inhabited planet, beginning -with those in the direct line of the
Khieevi fleet. . ."

"But the secret of the Shield," Pal pointed out, "is presently behind the
Shield, together with your uncle's invaluably twisty mind. So perhaps our
first priority ought to be finding some way to crack the Shield. Surely Hafiz
has told you something about how it functions?"

"Nothing," Rafik admitted. "I am not sure he even understands it himself. The
genius of our House is in finance, not technology. But we always hire the best
technicians."

"Then the engineer who designed and installed the Shield ..." Pal began.

"Martin Dehoney," Rafik said. There was a moment of silence.

"Well," Gill said slowly, "he was the best, no question about it!"

He was also dead; the design of Maganos Moon Base had been Dehoney's last
creation.

"Provola Quero worked with Dehoney," Judit said. "Perhaps she might have some
ideas. Why don't you two get together and discuss the matter with Mr. Li while
we ..."

"Oh, no," Rafik said. "I'm going, too."

"And we," said Neeva. "Acorna is my sister-child; it is my responsibility to
see to her safety. Besides, our ship is faster than any your people could
design."

Rafik's teeth flashed white under the thin dark line of his mustache. "We'll
just see about that!"

"As for planetary defense," Mr. Li put in, "House of Li has excellent
liquidity, as does House Harakamian. Why not hire mercenaries from Kilumbemba
Empire?"   Gill whistled through his teeth. "The Red Bracelets? If anybody can
take out the Khieevi, they should be able to." Delszaki Li's personal
bodyguard was rumored to have served -with the Red Bracelets at one time, and
he had never met any human being tougher or more frightening than Nadhari
Kando.

"Say," Rafik put in, evidently thinking along the same lines, "Is it true that
Nadhari used to--"

"She prefers not to discuss her past." "Oh. Well. . . but, Delszaki, it would
cost a fortune." "House Harakamian and House Li command two fortunes," Li said
calmly. "Also, Kilumbemba mercenaries will work on commission. Percentage of
profits in captured alien ships, alien technology could be powerful lure."

"And," Gill said slowly, "they're probably bored right now. The Kilumbemba
Empire hasn't expanded in several years. The Red Bracelets are expensive to
maintain and dangerous when bored, but Kilumbemba daren't release them from
their contract for fear of a revolt in one of the new, um, 'acquisitions.' It
just might work. Rafik, you and Delszaki are the best negotiators;

before "we go anywhere, why don't you see if we can subcontract from
Kilumbemba for the best part of their mercenary space fleet?"

"And pledge Uncle Hafiz's credit to support them, I suppose," Rafik said with
resignation. "Not that I don't think it's money well spent," he hastened to
explain, "but Uncle Hafiz is going to kill me when he comes out from behind
the Shield."

"He wouldn't grudge the credits to save Acorna," Gill pointed out.

"No -but what do you bet he'd find a -way to make somebody else pay them?"
Rafik grinned and sat down at a corn unit. "After this little maneuver, I had
better make tracks for Rushima . . . and I m not sure it would be wise to come
back! I don't want Yukata Batsu wearing my ears on his trophy belt!"

"Shhh," Gill said in a rumbling attempt at an undertone, "I think that kind of
talk upsets our guests." He felt it would definitely be unwise to tell the
Linyaari about Yukata Batsu, Hafiz's chief competitor on Laboue, and his
unpleasant habit of keeping trophies from his defeated enemies . . . including
the ears of Hafiz s own son, Tapha. Hafiz himself had been more upset about
Tapha's stupidity in letting himself be captured than about the mutilation,
but somehow Gill felt the Linyaari were not used to taking such matters in
their stride. They are still not sure we're civiliw) enough to 2eal with, he
thought. Maybe we '3 better not let/hem Listen in on the negotiations with the
Kilumbemba mercenaries, either. And on the excuse that Rafik and Delszaki Li
needed absolute privacy for this ticklish task, he offered to escort the
Linyaari on a brief tour of Maganos Moon Base while the necessary wheeling and
dealing took place.

"That is-if you can be sure nobody will notice your . . . um ... unusual
appearance ? " One thing they did not need to deal with was the effect on
Maganos of seeing four "Acornas" suddenly appearing in their midst.

"We attracted no attention on our way here," Melireenya pointed out. "As long
as Thariinye does not lose his temper again, we should have no trouble."

"Just keep us away from those blasted kids," Thariinye said.

Since the raison d'etre of Maganos was the education and training of the
bondchildren liberated from Kezdet, Gill found this directive rather difficult
to follow, but with Judit's help he managed to keep the Linyaari occupied for
some time in childfree areas of the base. Indeed, Provola Quero alone would
have been able to lecture them indefinitely on the design of the base living
quarters, mining facilities, and engineering shop; but even the Linyaari
thirst for knowledge was eventually satiated by the seemingly endless string
of facts and sketches at Provola's disposal, and at last Gill could think of
nothing but to bring them back to Delszaki Li's rooms before they became too
tired to maintain their shielding projections.

He was relieved to deduce that the negotiations had gone well; Delszaki Li was
napping in his hever-chair, and Rafik was sprawled on cushions with a look of
satisfaction on his thin, dark face and a glass of something that would
probably have been forbidden by the First Prophet in his right hand. "All
done?" Gill asked cautiously. "All fixed." Rafik tipped the glass to his mouth
and took a sip of the amber-colored liquid. "He"-he jerked his head toward the
sleeping Delszaki-"is a genius at this. I think he might even be able to teach
Uncle Hafiz a thing or two," he said with surprising generosity. "Would you
believe he's got Kilumbemba underwriting half the costs of the expedition,
because they feel it's to their benefit to keep the mercenaries busy and in
training rather than having them at loose ends where they might stir up
trouble? Although I'm not sure they realize it yet," he added thoughtfully.
"The way Delszaki put it was that we would save Kilumbemba a lot of money by
paying half the retaining salaries of the mercenaries for the duration of this
expedition. Which means that effectively they are still paying half the costs
. . . and then House Li is covering seventy percent of the remainder. I only
had to sign over the profits on a couple of planetary systems in Uncle Hafiz's
name, he might not even kill me when he finds out what he's paying for, but I
don't plan to stick around and check it out. Very generous of Delszaki."

Mr. Li's eyelids flickered. Gill suspected the old man was not really asleep,
and he wondered just how "generous" Delszaki Li's offer had really been. He
would have a controlling interest in the expedition now, and if he was right
about the profits to be made from exploiting Khieevi technology, the lion's
share of those profits would go to House Li rather than House Harakamian.
Insensibly Gill began to feel more confident about the whole project. The
Linyaari were so convinced that no one could withstand a Khieevi attack,
they'd infected him with their pessimism-but Delszaki Li was no man's fool,
and if he was already maneuvering to control profits, he must be counting the
war as good as won.

"The only problem is," Rafik went on, "I did have to throw in a little extra
inducement to Admiral Ikwaskwan."

"Admiral?" Gill said sharply. He had heard the notorious leader of the
Kilumbemba mercenary forces called many things, but never anything so
flattering as that.

Rafik waved a languid hand. "It's not exactly a formal military structure. If
the man wants to be an Admiral, or a Brigadier, or High Potentate, let him
take the title. Thing is, he wanted a share in Rosewater's Revelation."

You sold your uncle's best racehorse to Ikwaskwan?"

"Only a part share, and it is in a good cause. You think he'll mind?"

"I think you'd better head for Rushima and not come back, like you were saying
at first," Gill told him. "What have you been drinking to make you think Hafiz
is going to be happy about teaming up with a-a-" It wasn't so much that words
failed him, as that Judit's presence inhibited him from using any of the words
he felt to be appropriate. "With Ikwaskwan," he finished weakly as a familiar
smoky scent, wafting through the air, distracted his attention. He took
another deep sniff and recognized it. "MY BEST SCOTCH, THAT'S WHAT YOU'VE BEEN
INTO!"

"I earned it, weasel-wording and sweet-talking Ikwaskwan and half the
Kilumbembese Cabinet -while you were playing tour guide," Rafik said without
bothering to move out of the way of Gill's furiously working hands. "Judit,
call off your husband before he damages these precious vocal cords. Oh, and by
the way, we had a spurt-message from the AcaSeckl."

"You did?" Gill's hands dropped to his sides. "Oh, all right, I won't kill you
until you tell me what was in it."

Rafik grinned up at him. "That's not very good motivation."

"Very well, then, I'll let you live. This time."

"It was a little confusing," Rafik confessed. "Basically it said, 'Disregard
previous message, everything all right here, stopping for R&R on Rushima.' I
doubt that means they've defeated the entire Khieevi fleet single-handedly; it
probably just means they've outwitted those space pirates Rushima was
complaining to the Shenjemi Federation about. That should be well within
Calum's and Acorna's abilities," Rafik said with sublime confidence.

"Did you tell her to get out of there?"

"Couldn't. The AcaSecki's not answering; they must all be on Rushima, and
Rushima isn't transmitting. I expect the space pirates knocked out their
satellite communications. I did send a long spurt telling Acorna about her
people showing up here, and that we'd be with her in five days. If anybody
picks up on the AcaSeckl, they should get that much."

"You didn't tell her about the Khieevi?"

"That sort of message is not something you want to leave   lying about a ship's
com system until somebody is inspired to pick up," Rafik   pointed out. "What if
the Rushimese hear it? There could be panic, rioting-and   Acorna's somewhere on
the surface, we don't know where. I thought it better to   wait until we can
patch through some sort of direct contact."

Gill had to admit the logic of this, but knowing for sure that Acorna was on
Rushima-and unwarned about the deadly danger approaching-made him more
impatient than ever to take off. The hours they would have to wait for the
Kilumbemba forces to mobilize dragged like lead.



Haven, Unified Federation Date 33.05.18

What do we do now?" Calum asked. "Wait until the dust settles and there's
someone we can talk to about leaving?"

"I think we better be sure they know it's us who are leaving and not some of
the enemies escaping," Acorna said. "I'm going to check on my 'ponies."

Calum watched her go. He hoped there was enough there for her to eat. He also
hoped that she was going to change out of those rags and into some outfit
suitable to the real Acorna.

"Anyone else for a bite to eat while we talk this over?"
He looked first at Dr. Hoa, who hadn't moved since sinking into a seat. The
man's color was better and his expression more alert. "Are you feeling well
enough for a meal?"

"There's nothing wrong with me a good cup of tea won't set right in next to no
time," the scientist said with a little smile. That is, if you should happen
to have tea."

"In fact, I do," Calum said, making his way to the galley. "Tea for all?"

"What's 'tea'?" Market asked.

"You can find out after you've cleaned up a bit," Johnny Greene said.

"Why should I do that when I might just have to do a flit again'

Johnny closed off his nostrils and raised his eyebrows. "In this fresher air,
ol' buddy, you stink. So do I, I'm sure, but not quite as badly."

Calum, whose back was to Markel, grinned. He hadn't wanted to mention the
fact.

"If you happened to have any clean clothes, Calum," Johnny went on, "I could
sure stand a change myself. Any old ship suit'11 do."

"Second cabinet in the first cabin on the right. And there's a sanitary unit
directly opposite the bunk."

Dr. Hoa was on his second cup of tea and looking far more alert when Acorna
came back, wearing more normal attire. Then both Johnny and a far cleaner
Markel showed up, although the boy looked a trifle surly.

Markel took the cup of tea and some finger foods that Calum had defrosted, and
went to the place where he had deposited his equipment. He put in the
earphone, and in a few seconds was smiling with great satisfaction, but then
he glowered again.

"If I hadn't been stuck with you, I'd've been in it, too," he said.

"If you hadn't been able to save Acorna, Calum, and Dr. Hoa first, young 'un,"
Johnny Greene said in firm contradiction, "there wouldn't have been a coup at
all. I gather someone had the sense to gas the searchers in the tubes?"

For a moment, Markel stared in astonishment at his friend. Then his expression
was both smug that he had actually been a crucial element in the rebellion and
surprised. "How'd you know how they got them?"

Johnny shrugged. "That's what I would have done. Nueva, Dom, Sengrat, and the
others would have^ been so intent on wanting to get at least Dr. Hoa back into
their hands, they'd've depleted their guard points." He waved to indicate the
guards they had overcome. "We'd've been up the crick without a paddle if the
full complement of guards had been here in the hangar. Then he grinned at
Markel. "Whaddaya bet that Kerratz, Andreziana, and Zanegar led the
revolution?"

Markel's eyes went wide. "How'dyou know?"

He ruffled Market's hair. "You were doing all you could in your fashion,
Markie, lad, and your father was one of those spaced. It's only logical that
the ones who hurt worst would try hardest to get back at the murderers of
their parents. Now, find out if they need to know where Dr. Hoa is hiding. I'd
ask for Kerratz. Always thought he was the smartest of 'Zhuria and Ezkerra's
brood."

"No, Andreziana's the one we want," Market said in his blunt fashion as he
found the mouthpiece in his backpack and attached the speaker J-bar. "I need
to speak to Andreziana. This is Markel."

Johnny Greene and Calum both gestured for Market to patch in the Acadecki's
system so they could hear, too. Market shook his head emphatically, but Johnny
caught him by one ear and gave him such a malevolent glare that Markel
capitulated just in time for them all to hear the contralto voice of
Andreziana.

"Where the hell have you been, Markel? "

"Clearing the decks so you could act, of course," the boy replied, laughing.
"Caught 'em all napping, didja?"

"No, we caught them hunting in the tubes for you. So we closed 'em off and
gave them a dose of their own," the girl replied.

"S-spaced?" Markel looked slightly green.

"We didn't have a lot of choice," Andreziana said. "They refused to surrender.
I wasn't gioing to lose more of our own people going after them in the
tunnels, not to mention risking that they'd win a tunnel fight."

"No," Markel said. "No, you-you couldn't do that. It's Just..."

"I'll say this for those Palomellese," Andreziana interrupted like someone
eager to change the subject, "most of them were right with us. Seems that
Nueva Fallona and her group weren't that popular with their own people after
all."

"So, what did you promise the Palomellese to get their coopfiration?" Markel
asked, accepting the change of subject.

"They'll take a landfall on Rushima and help undo the damage done for the
chance to stay on."

"Won't we have to go through the Shenjemi Federation for permission for that?
At the very least, they'll want to sue the Haven for the havoc caused," Markel
said, dubious.

With an arm around Markel's shoulders, Johnny positioned himself to speak
through the J-bar. "John Greene here, 'Ziana, and congratulations on handling
the retaking. That'll all be on log, and I think we can reason with the
Shenjemi. We've sent a message about the condition of Rushima, by the way.
..."

"You did WHAT?"

Her protest even shook Dr. Hoa, making him spill a bit of the tea he had been
so happily imbibing. He held up a finger.

"We've been down on the surface," Calum said, speaking directly into the com
unit of the Aca^ecki, "and promised the survivors that we would get a message
to their sponsors. This is Calum Baird, pilot. By the way, do you have
wounded?"
"Sure we do." The girls voice softened. "Did you think we could manage a
bloodless revolution? Why? We've some medics...."

"But you do not have a ki-Un," said Acorna, elbowing her way beside Calum.

"What the shards is a ki-lin}"

At that point. Dr. Hoa angled his way between Acorna and Calum. "Very good,
very unusual, useful, miraculous person. Saved me. Saved Markel, saved Calum.
Save you pain and healing time."

"Who's that?"

"Dr. Hoa-and this is the ki-Lln."

Acorna took a deep breath. "For what now appear to be very sensible
precautions," Acorna said, her voice rippling with amusement, "I disguised
myself as a procuress when my ship was captured by Nueva and her gang. I am,
however, Acorna Delszaki-Harakamian."

If Johnny and Markel were jumping up and down in dismay at Dr. Hoa's
revelation, Calum was tearing at his hair over Acorna's admission.

"Harakamian?" There was a certain awed tone in 'Ziana s voice. "Of House
Harakamian?"

"Delszaki?" added a baritone. "Not THE Delszaki Li?"

"Yes, to both questions. How may I help you now?"

There was a babble in the background, then a new person was speaking.

"Look, I'm medical, but we've got some really badly off wounded on the
infirmary deck and some people who'll die if we can't clear that gas out of
their lungs," the man said.

"I'm on my way," Acorna said, and gave a decisive nod at Calum, who was
staring hopelessly at her.

"C'mon, we'll all go. Lock down your ship, Cal, will you?" Johnny Greene
added. "Just in case there are some survivors creeping down to the hangar."

With some regret, Calum did as Johnny suggested. He had been thinking of
trying to raise regular contact with Delszaki Li's headquarters on Kezdet . .
. just to allay any fears Mercy might have for his safety if the original
spurt had gotten through .. . but Johnny was right. It was too soon to cry
safe and far too soon to omit any possible precaution.

Before they reached the end of the hangar deck, there was banging on the
hatches that had been locked against Nueva's group.

"We're coming, we're coming," Johnny Greene roared, deftly assisting Dr. Hoa
up the steep risers.

"I am better, much better," Dr. Hoa kept protesting. "And what has been done
can often be undone. With my process," he added with a little smile, "we can
set much right in little time."

"That'll go down well with the Rushimese and the Shenjemi," Johnny said with a
wry grin.

As soon as Dr. Hoa reached the bridge, 'Ziana, the late Andrezhuria's
daughter, greeted him with considerably more warmth than she accorded those
accompanying him. One eyebrow went up at the sight of Acorna, but she politely
did not comment on Acorna's unusual appearance. Her face composed, Ziana was
sitting in the bridge command chair, which dwarfed her slight figure. Her
bandaged hands dangled from the armrests, but not far from the festoon of
weapons hanging to her lap from the belt she wore. Not much taller than Calum,
slender, with fair hair braided tightly in many small strands and tied
together at the base other neck, she looked her age, not the pnnGipal in a
major coup. She certainly didn't look as if she could have been capable of the
deeds she and the other teenagers lounging around the bridge had recently
planned and executed.

"Dr. Hoa, is there anything you can do to help Rushima?" she asked. Her
slightly accented Basic was delivered in the tone of a much older,
self-possessed woman.

"I do believe I can, Andreziana," he said, as courteous as ever as, with a
querying lift of his brows, he nodded toward one of the empty chairs on the
port side of the bridge.

"Go to it, Doctor," she said, gesturing with one graceful, if bandaged hand.
Blood had leaked down her forearm and clotted.

Acorna sucked in her breath and looked at Johnny, who gave his head the
slightest of negative movements.

"Who're the strangers. Market?" 'Ziana went on, steepling her bandaged hands
in front of her. It was a gesture, Acorna instinctively felt, that had been
one other mother's.

"Acorna." Markel might have been introducing a reigning planetary leader for
the pride in his voice. One of the teenage boys lounging around the bridge
snickered. Markel bristled, relaxing when Acorna touched his shoulder. "You
only show how little you know," Markel said.

"She's the one can heal?" the lad said snidely. "What does she use? That horn
on her head?" His hair had been cut into bristle which was dyed in
uncomplementary colors. 'Ziana's gesture silenced him, and he seemed to cave
in over his diaphragm at her displeasure. He wore a sloppy bandage on one
shoulder: the sear mark of the stun bolt was partly visible.

So swiftly that no one could have stopped her, Acorna was beside him, her
derided horn performing its miracle.

"Hey, whaddya go and do that for?" The boy raised his unharmed arm to push her
away, but she had already retreated.

"Hey." His tone was completely different. He peeked first at the now healed
flesh, then pulled off the rest of the bandage and saw clean, pink skin. "Hey,
how'dyou do that?"

"However she does it, I'll have some of the same, if you wouldn't mind,
Acorna?" 'Ziana said, holding out her bandaged hands. "Can't really use the
fingerpads with all this on me."

Although Acorna was as delicate as possible in peeling back the wadded fabric,
little flickers in 'Ziana's eyes showed how painful the process was. Her hands
were so badly burned they were weeping blood and serum. Acorna lowered the
horn to each palm, then the girl's torn wrists. Flesh seemed to flower
instantly across the wounds.

"Let me tell you, that is a relief," 'Ziana said, briefly sounding her
chronological age. "There're injured down below who need a lot more help than
I do ... did. Thank you. And, you, Brazie, I didn't hear your thank-you."

Brazie of the multicolored hair stammered out his gratitude, still fingering
the now smooth ex-wound.

"You're both welcome. Anyone else?" Acorna asked, looking around at those who
occupied the bridge.

"Aw, it ain't much," one of those beside Brazie said, but his companions
pushed him toward Acorna. Another pulled up the rags left of the back of his
shirt and revealed encrusted welts. Acorna had never seen anyone whipped and
beaten, but, when she maneuvered the boy into the light to assess his injury,
she knew that that was what had been done to him. Calum uttered a low whistle.

'Ziana now turned to Johnny Greene and Markel. "I need to talk to you two,"
she said, once again in that firm, uncontradictable voice. "You were within an
ace of getting spaced, Johnny. Did you know? How'dyou know to hide? And where
did you hide?"

Johnny settled himself in the chair just below her level, and Markel took a
seat next to him. "Well, I figured I was running out of Nuevas good graces.
She was never sure where I stood with the First-Gen group, since they sort of
picked me up because they were short a docking expert. Esposito and I had had
a couple of run-ins. . . ."

'Ziana chuckled. "So you had. Dom never liked you either."

"True, though I had no intention of cutting him out with Nueva. She wasn't my
type. But that's all history, 'Ziana. Let's talk about now. You've control of
the Haven, but are there enough competent people left after two sets of
wholesale slaughter to staff and crew a ship of this complexity?"

"My mother didn't raise me stupid, Johnny. Any more than Illart did Markie-boy
here." 'Ziana was slightly contemptuous.   "Then you do have someone who can
dampen the electromagnetic resonances in the navigation controls," Calum said,
pointing to some orange flashing lights on one drive control board.

'Ziana swore and swung down off the command chair to take a closer look.

"If I could make a recommendation," Calum said at his most tactful, "I think
the problem is more drift than immediate danger, and I can do some
calculations to see how much thrust you'll need to apply, but this is one
panel that should be manned at all times. And the life-support system seems to
have been damaged from the look of the signals its giving." He pointed to a
board several positions down.

"You a pilot or something?"

"I've belted around the system for most of my life and never lost a ship,"
Calum said. "All modern ships use about the same basic controls . . . just
some are bigger'n others, like this one."

"He's an expert and very experienced pilot," Acorna said. "Approved and
recommended by both Delszaki and House Harakamian."
"Who's them?" Brazie asked, frowning in suspicion.

"Only two of the biggest interstellar firms," another lad said, and came up to
Calum, extending one hand in greeting. "I'm Kerratz. My father was ..." and
Calum surmised that the father had been one of those spaced, ". . . teaching
me his specialty. I've had a little time on the board, so I could take it
over-if you'd do the calculations. I ·wouldn't want to do them, and be wrong."

A girl, heavy-boned and wearing flashily dyed blue-andorange hair, pointed to
the life-support board. '"Ponies system suffered a lot of damage when we were
trying to weld the access panels shut so they'd all die in the tubes." Those
deaths didn't seem to bother her as much as the harm to the plants. "Want I
should get a gang together and see what damage is done?"

Calum turned politely toward 'Ziana.

"Go to it, Neggara," 'Ziana said, waving her off. "You help her, Brazie,
Dajar, Foli. You've had a long enough rest now. And Rezar," she added,
pivoting on one heel to address a tall, well-built boy cultivating a fine
mustache on his handsome face, "you take the com board. This bridge needs to
be properly controlled."

Then she turned to Johnny with a "how'm I doing?" glance that was challenging.

"What's happening on the decks below?" he asked. "There may be some good 'uns
among the Palomellese who can spell your folk."

'Ziana didn't much like that suggestion from the expression on her face.

"Well, you'll be standing long watches, then," Johnny said with an indolent
shrug.

"You go find some loyal enough to help," 'Ziana said. "I'm not leaving the
bridge."

"I agree. You shouldn't," Johnny said, "but, ifAcorna's finished here and
Calum can hang about with the technical advice, I'll leave our ki-lin at the
infirmary on my way down the levels."

'Ziana nodded agreement, but, as Acorna walked away toward the door, her eyes
spoke volumes of gratitude to the spacer that 'Ziana's pride would never allow
her to utter.

"You've done well, 'Ziana," Johnny said, then chuckled. "Nueva's mistake was
in not spacing the whole kit and kaboodle:

First AND Second Generation."

"You're damned right there," 'Ziana said as she resettled herself in her
command chair, "but she considered us 'kids'!" She snorted as she steepled her
fingers.

"A mistake for several reasons," Johnny said suavely. "How about
communications below? Are they in working order?"

"Most of 'em," said Rezar, surveying his board. "Some holes, but call here to
the bridge anywhere you can. I'll patch you through." He began running a
diagnostic on the system.
You okay where you are, Dr. Hoa?" Johnny asked before Joining Acorna by the
lift shaft.

Oh, go on, go on, I've so much to set right I won't miss you at all," Dr. Hoa
said, absently waving a hand over his head in the direction of the speaker,
but focusing all his attention on the graphics in front of him. He was
tsk-tsking over something as Johnny and Acorna left the bridge.

"Surely those children cannot run a ship this size?" Acorna said.

"Oh, I dunno about that, Acorna," Johnny said with a grin. "Seems to me I
heard that Cal, Gill, and Rafik had you managing a lot of basic controls
before you were three years old."

"My species evidently matures more quickly than yours," she said.

"And those kids who put down Nueva's coup were apprenticed, as a matter of
course, to specialists once they turned fourteen."

"They can't be much older now," Acorna protested.

"On the contrary," Johnny said in a very droll tone, "they are much, much
older ... now." With a hand under her elbow, he signaled her to jump to the
level they were nearing on the shaft. "If they're beginning to find out how
complicated it is to do it all themselves, it'll make my job easier."

"Finding someone a little more senior with enough experience to direct them?"

"Precisely." He pointed to starboard. "Infirmary's that way."

Since she could hear the moans and sobbing, his direction was unnecessary.

"I'll come back this way and see how you're doing. Even medics were not safe
from Nueva's ·wholesale spacing orgy."

"Calum?" Rezar asked. "Could you come look at this? I don't know this kind of
code."

Calum had been overseeing several panels for the appointed novice crew as well
as giving Dr. Hoa a hand with the math. ["Never my strong suit, Mr. Baird."
"Well, it is mine, and you've merely inverted the matrix that defines
nonlinear diffractionprocess interaction too soon-or tried"to; the matrix
can't be inverted, so you have to transform it to this form first. See? Now
you get the right answer."]

"That's beamed at Rushima, which no longer has any corn units. Broadcast on a
wide beam so we're catching the edges of it. Use the finer tuner and put it up
on screen. No, this toggle.

The message immediately began blaring from the bridge speakers until Rezar
figured out how to modulate its volume.

"This is Blidkoff of Shenjemi Federation calling." Even the tone sounded bored
with the words. "Rushima, reply. Urgent. You must respond if you expect any
aid."

"He sounds real interested," Rezar said sarcastically.

Calum glanced up at 'Ziana. "I'd say Rushima needs help from whatever source
it can get it."
'Ziana regarded him steadily. "But this ship caused the damage.

"Ah"-Calum held up one finger-'yes, my initial message to them said Rushima
was under attack by the Starfarers."

"The real Starfarers"-'Ziana indicated herself-"are once again in control
ofHaven. Our ..." she had to swallow before she could continue, "... mothers
and fathers believed that peaceful protest "would allow us to use some
uninhabited world as a new home, since Esperantza was destroyed."

"You have been traveling a long time," Calum said kindly.

"The Shenjemi could demand reparations from us. . . ." she said.

"Not you . . . and you've logs to prove it," he said, pointing to a ceiling
device that was the visual log of all proceedings on the bridge. "I can answer
as myself. Shall I? And we can sort the Haven's part out later. We have to
give some answer. The Rushimese are in a bad way down there."

"We've been in a bad way up here, too, Baird."

"Ah, but I can restore much of the normal climatic pattern in just a few
days," Dr. Hoa said, "after first inducing some more . . . extraordinary. ..
weather to quickly counteract the worst effects of what has been done."

"Can you?" 'Ziana looked around at the frail man, who nodded vigorously.

"This is Blidkoff, Second Undersecretary ofRUI Affairs, calling Rushima. Can
you respond, Rushima? Are you under attack?"

Calum moved to the corn unit. "Blidkoff, this is Calum Baird °f the AcaSecki,
a private vessel. I sent the message you received. The planet has been under
attack, and the first thing to go were Ihe satellite communications."

"Baird? Calum Baird? No such name exists on the planetary roster." Blidkoffwas
plainly skeptical.

"Because I'm not Rushimese," Calum said. "I'll repeat. I am Pilot Calum Baird
of the AcaSecki, a private vessel. We had a 'ponies problem and thought
Rushima could help us with it. Instead, we had to help them by informing you
of the attack. The whole planet's in a bad way. They're going to need a lot of
help to get sorted out down there."

"View please," Blidkoff answered, his skepticism coming through loud and
clear.

'Ziana was wagging her arms in protest, but a grinning Rezar made a frame
around Calum s face, indicating that he'd broadcast just the face. Calum
looked over his shoulder for 'Zlana's permission, and, after a moment with her
eyes closed, she nodded.

"Oh, sorry, didn't realize the view was off on my end," Calum said. He beamed
at the screen for Blidkoff's benefit.

"And what exactly did you perceive was a problem with Rushima? Apart from
their failure to communicate through normal channels?"

Pompous brain^ regoUthic Q'wt, Calum thought to himself, keeping his smile
intact. "Storms, floods, and drought."
"They must be inventing disaster to get off paying their taxes. That planet
was selected for its incredibly boring and stable climate."

"It's a large planet, Blidkoff," Calum said, no longer willing to be the
victim of the man's incredulity. "And as your first spurt informed you, these
disasters were artificially created by their attackers . . . who have now been
disposed of, but the settlers are in dire need of basic supplies to help them
start over. You do what you want. I promised Joshua Flouse I'd send you a
Mayday. I have. Good day to-"

"Now, let's not get in a huff, Pilot Baird. Joshua Flouse . . · eff-eel-o-"

"U ess ee," Calum finished.

"Well, he's a reliable community leader."

"I suspect he is. Decent chap, gave us seed and enough vegetation to keep us
going, even though they'll be in need themselves. So why don't you go on and
keep him going?"

"I fear that's beyond my area of command," Blidkoff began. "Rushima's return
on investment is insufficient to justify the expense of further Federation
assistance."

"That's your problem, Blidkoff, and I'm sorry for the Rushimese, but at least
I've kept my promise." And Calum himself cut the connection.

A buzz interrupted the silence on the bridge.

"He wants to talk to you again," Rezar said, looking hopefully up at Calum.

Calum looked around at 'Ziana, who seemed in an equal quandary.

"You kids got rid of the nasties, but now what?"

He could see 'Ziana swallow.

"Now we have to carry the can for those Palomellese bastards' mistakes," Rezar
said.

"That's what being adult is," Calum said gently, feeling sorry for so much
shit dumping on these teenagers who, only a few weeks ago, probably had been
nice normal kids, fussing because no one would take them seriously.

"We should have a meeting about this," Kerratz said.

"Yeah, a meeting," Brazie agreed hastily, nodding nervously.

"Mother said that, too, that adults ..." and Ziana paused a moment before she
rushed, "... are not afraid to accept responsibility. I took that one to heart
when we gassed the tubes and spaced the murderers of our parents. I guess it
applies here. We'll stay, and we'll make good as much as we can . . . -with
Dr. Hoa's help."

And then I am taking myself and my weather program out of reach of anyone
else," Dr. Hoa said.

"I think I may be able to help you there, Dr. Hoa," Calum said. "How much
longer do you need?"
"Oh, I'm just starting, Mr. Baird. What was done to Rushima cannot be undone
as quickly, but we're making progress. Yes, indeed, we are making progress.
Now, would you check my Gquations again? I shouldn't like a simple error on my
part to undo what I've been able to accomplish so far."

"But this is your program, isn't it?" Calum said as he went to the doctor's
position.

"Oh, it is, but I always had a mathematician assisting me. Meteorology is
science, my boy, but mathematics is a black art."

"Did you want me to help with the damage reports, 'Ziana? " Johnny, returned
from escort duty to Acorna, said so suavely that none of the people on the
bridge could take offense. It was obvious none of them had thought of that.

With great dignity, 'Ziana nodded in his direction. "Please, would you,
Johnny? You've had a lot more experience in that area than we have."

"You're learning," he said with his engaging grin.

Johnny concentrated on checking out the essential functions of the Haven, and
apart from some damage by weapons fire -fortunately only stunners had been
used rather than missile handguns ^-the hull had taken no integral damage. The
conduits would need further flushing and venting to remove the traces of the
gases used . . . and any remaining bodies had to be found and removed. Not the
most agreeable of duties, but it needed to be done. When Johnny looked around
to see whom Markel could suggest for the task, the lad was gone.

Markel, in fact, had gone back to the quarters he had shared with his father
to see if any of his things were still there. The rooms had been trashed. He
took one look and pressed the lock. He'd find himself somewhere else to stay.
He'd also find himself some clean clothes. He'd had enough of these.

The main clothing storage was locked, of course, but his little strip of
plastic did its trick, and he was in. The place still had a faint trace of the
gases that had been used to trap Nueva and her gang, probably the stuff was
still trickling from any vents that hadn't been closed. Something would
clearly have to be done about it soon. So he made a quick selection of
clothing and new ship shoes-Acorna had healed all the cuts and bruises he'd
acquired in his adventures, but ship shoes would add to his new dignity. He
also picked up a tool belt and a notepad, since his was still on the AcaSecki,
with the few personal items he had managed to save when he decided he'd better
not be found by Nueva or any of her conspirators.

He did wonder that there were so few people in the corridors and halls. Maybe
'Ziana should make a shipwide announcement that Second Gen had complete
control of the Haven.

Then he shafted over to 'ponies, which was looking very sad indeed, though
Neggara and her group were already planting some vats.

"I need some stuff for Acorna. She'll be using up a lot of energy healing, you
know," he said.

Neggara craned her neck around at him. Then she grinned. "Since it's you, and
for her, you're welcome to anything that's edible. Though that ain't much."

"You've got the big leaves still." Markel pointed to the basic pumpkin,
rhubarb, and legume leaves that would indeed be essential to air refreshing.
He said nothing at all about Acorna's ability to clean air. But he was pretty
sure that was what this ship was operating on right now.

Neggara was shaking her head. "Don't understand it. According to the manuals,
they aren't enough to do what they have to be doing in terms of restoring
clean air to the entire ship."

"We got lucky, I guess," Markel said, and picked what he thought would be a
useful bouquet of greens and some early legume pods for Acorna.

What Neggara didn't know wouldn't hurt her-or Acorna- but, as he left the
'ponies section, he did worry that the Lady would not have enough strength
both to heal the wounded AND purify the ship's air. However, he had managed
not to smirk with his covert knowledge of who was really responsible for the
fact that they weren't all gasping for breath on the Haven.

Acorna was just bending over an unconscious Palomellese with serious stun
bruising all down his left side when Markel arrived at the sick bay. As Markel
approached, he heard her sigh, and knew he'd been right to rustle up some food
for her. She seemed to be working her way into the infirmary, for there were
already many empty bunks at the front of the room. Medics were buzzing in
small groups, watching her surreptitiously.

Markel waited just out of Acorna's range until she had finished the current
patient.

"Gotcha something to help you," Markel said, holding out his bouquet to her
just as one of the senior medics started to protest his interference.

Acorna held up one hand, then smiled with weary gratitude for his
thoughtfulness. She couldn't know it, nor did Markel realize the significance
of his altruism, but seeing that Acorna was fed was probably one of the first
unselfish things he had ever done. Even in rescuing her, he had been acting
out of selfinterest.

"And I think you'd better he down when you've eaten ... you look absolutely
transparent," Markel said, giving a level and accusing glance at the medic. "I
don't see anyone bleeding to death," he added, having made a quick assessment
of those still abed. "I'll never hear the end of it from Calum and 'Ziana if
you pass out on us, you know."

The way Acorna wobbled as she rose was sufficient evidence to the medical
staff that this intruder's assessment of her condition was undeniably
accurate. The head medic almost leapt forward to assist her, but Markel was
closer and took her arm as if by right.

"You haven't used up all the private compartments, have you?" Markel asked.

This way." The medic ushered her into one of the cubicles. "We're'very
grateful, lady, and didn't realize that you..." Markel firmly closed the panel
on the apologies.

"There's not much selection in 'ponies, right now," he said, placing his
gleanings on her lap.

"Doesn't matter," she said, stuffing chard into her face and chewing with
weary efficiency. "Anything green'11 do fine. There are so many more - "

"Who can probably recover just fine in the usual way, Markel cut in firmly.
"We need you more to keep the air fresh in this ship with the 'ponies in the
condition it's in."

Acorna gave a weary sigh, munching on the legumes and the stalks, too.

"You can't do everything yourself, you know," he said. "Isn t there anything
else you can eat that we'd have on board? Somehow just those ..." His fingers
dismissed the limp chard leaves as insignificant.   "Any vegetable ration
bars? I cannot live on them for any long stretch of time, but they will keep
me from starving through the immediate future."

"Thousands," Market said, immensely relieved. "That's what we've had to feed
the Palomellese with. I'll be back in a flash."

As soon as he exited the compartment, the head medic caught him.

"Is she all right? We didn't. ..."

"Well, it   takes a lot of energy to do what she does, you know," Markel said,
trying to   make out Acorna was worse off than she was to be sure they wouldn't
interrupt   her until she'd had some rest. "You don't happen to have any
vegetable   ration bars up here, do you?"

They did and loaded Markel down with as many as he could carry. He took them
in to her. She had finished all the fresh greens-if that was what you could
call the limp leaves-and gratefully shed the packaging film protecting the
first bar. She ate nine before suddenly she seemed to collapse inward and
sprawl across the bunk.

"Acorna?" Markel reached for her delicate arm, even if he hadn't a clue where
he'd find a pulse on it.

She clasped his arm, -weakly, but turned her head and smiled at him.

"I'll be fine. You stand guard, will you. Market? I'll just need a bit of
sleep while I digest that fine meal."

Markel could not agree with her notion of a "fine meal" as he spread the light
thermal over her and tiptoed out of the compartment.

"She's sleeping," he told the head medic, then snagged a fourlegged stool,
which he put against the door. He sat, crossed his arms over her chest, and
assumed his role as guardian.

He was also asleep, head drooping over one shoulder but supported by the door
he guarded, when Calum and Johnny came down to find Acorna.

"You know," Johnny said thoughtfully, hands on his belt and elbows cocked to
the side, as he looked down at his protege, Markel might turn out to be a fine
man after all. Though"-he waggled a finger at Calum-"never tell him I said
so."

1 8 8 ANNE McCAFFREY AND MARGARET BALL

"Last thing on my mind," Calum said, making a cross over his heart.

So they waited until Acorna emerged from the room, and just managed to catch
her guard before he fell into the compartment. His reflexes had him on his
feet and in a defensive position against the -wall before he was awake enough
to see who was there.
"Well, you look a lot better," he said to Acorna in the tone of a worried
parent, straightening his tunic and brushing back his hair. "Sleep did you
good, didn't it?"

If Calum had to turn away and Johnny had to cough to disguise his chuckle,
Acorna affectionately smoothed Market's hair.

"Yes, it did." She looked past Johnny to see the head medic eagerly approach
her. "There's an urgency-"

"Well, it will have to wait," Johnny said firmly, taking Acorna by the arm.
"The bridge has need of Acorna right now!"

In point of fact, it was the 'ponies system which needed Acorna, and she did
what she could to clean the air.

"How much of that gas was used?" she asked, sneezing.

"The kids wanted to be sure," Johnny said at his driest.

"We could rig blowers," Calum said, remembering how they had managed to clear
air in the early days of Maganos Moon Base. "What sort of equipment is
available, Markel?"

"Well, we can find out easy enough," Markel said, and turned toward the
nearest shaft. "But it'll have to be from the bridge computer."

"I'll go back to the infirmary then," Acorna said, starting in that direction,
but it was Calum this time who grabbed her.

"No. You are going back to sleep," he said firmly. "Your horn is practically
transparent, and the rest of you doesn't look much better."

"There are still people in need-"

"Nothing our own medics can't handle," said Andreziana, who had been calling
up reports from the infirmary while they talked. She backed Calum up. "You
have done too much, Acorna . . . and we have other problems to solve now that
you cannot help with."

"What?"   "First, we must repair the damage   to the Haven. Then, Dr. Hoa has
promised to work on his weather program, to   see if there is some way he can
control it so as to correct the damage done   by our ship and his science to
Rushima ... if they will accept the offer."   Andreziana's emotional and
physical exhaustion made her look, briefly,   much older than her chronological
age. "Whether by use of Dr. Hoa's technical   expertise, or by the work of our
own hands, we must make what reparations we   can to the settlers of Rushima.
That is our problem, not yours."

"The Shenjemi Federation . . ."

"Have realized that the situation is critical, yes," Johnny Greene said, "and
help is on its way. But 'Ziana is right. The First-Gen Starfarers were men and
-women of honor who would have done everything possible to repair the damage
caused by use of their ship. I'm proud to see these kids following in the
tradition."

With this assurance, Acorna felt justified in taking a few extra hours for
rest. Hours turned into several days, as she fell into a deep healing sleep
from which she awakened at intervals only long enough to consume immense
quantities of the most mineral-rich greens the Haven could provide. "I wish I
could get her dirtside," Calum fretted. "Rushima's a mess, but she needs to
run, and breathe air that hasn't been recycled, and eat something that didn't
grow in a vat."

"I think that can be arranged," Markel told him. Calum had been watching over
Acorna too obsessively to pay much attention to the repair work on the Haven
or the ongoing discussions with the Rushimese. "Hoa's ready to work his
weather magic now, but we're going to need to temporarily resettle the
Rushimese from the worst flooded area while he arranges a few minor cataclysms
to fix things up."

"Good idea," Calum approved absently. "Now, Acorna-"

"Is going to have to be with our resettlement party," Markel said. "Otherwise,
they won't go anywhere with us. Acorna's the only one they trust. In fact, we
were hoping that you and she would be willing to use the Aca<)ecki to ferry
settlers-because they have a pronounced, if justifiable, aversion to any of
our landing craft."

"Sounds good to me," Calum said. "Soon as she's really awake, we'll get
started."

Acorna was clearly healing herself in these periods of deep sleep, restoring
the energies depleted by her efforts on behalf of the Starfarers and their
wounded ship, and he had no intention of interrupting that process. He
returned to watching over her obsessively, feeling more relieved than anything
else that their friends on Maganos did not know to transmit queries to the
Haven. After sending a "Disregard previous message, everything's all right,"
from the AcaSecki immediately after they were sure the countercoup had
succeeded, he'd shut down \heAca<)ecki and joined in the work of rebuilding
the Haven. He did not particularly want to communicate with Maganos again
until he could assure them Acorna was perfectly well. Call him a coward, but
there were some things he'd rather not tell Gill and Rafik, much less Delszaki
Li and Uncle Hafiz. This-an Acorna too worn-out to stay awake-was definitely
one of those things.

Laboue, Unified Federation Date 53^. 05.22

afiz had never been so long out of communication with his various colleagues
and interstellar financiers. No amount of pacing up and down his underground
refuge would ease his churning mind.

"There is really NO point at all in such ferretlike isolation. There hasn't
been a single explosion registered on the equipment. There haven't been any
landings anywhere. Am I a slave, to live in prison, or a woman, to dwell in
purdah?"

His pacing had brought him back once again to that portion of the garden where
the Skarness Stones were located. Although his establishment was completely
underground, and shielded by formidable appliances, he could actually stand
just beneath the position of the Stones.

He clapped his hands to summon a human servant. "Bring me a thin rod, of
metal, not silver nor gold, but base metal, of two arm-spans' length. No,
misbegotten -whelp of a djinni's basest lusts, how should I know where such a
thing is to be found? Inquire of the steward, and do not trouble me with such
matters." Once the rod had been located, he demanded a ladder. Now position
it... no, never mind. Guard the door to this corridor, and let no one enter
until I give permission. I shall be ... at my devotions." No need for any to
observe the procedure which he had invented for communicating with the Stones
from this underground refuge; and if they wondered what sort of devotions
required this equipment, why, let them wonder!

The manual labor of placing a stepladder was beneath his dignity, but by great
good fortune he hit the D Stone with his first try. Then, placing his forehead
and both hands on the rod, he tapped out his urgent query.

"Has Laboue been invaded?"

There was no immediate answer. He hadn't expected a prompt reply-but he
expected some reaction. Besides, it was undignified for a man of his eminence
and prestige to remain in this semisubservient posture, even if he had taken
care not to be observed. Also, the metal rod was beginning to wear a groove
into his forehead. He daren't relax either his grip or the contact with the
rod because he had to catch the rhythm of whatever message the Skarness Stones
had for him.

"Clear sky."

Hafiz thanked them and stood upright, dropping the rod with a clang as he
alternately rubbed the ridges on his hands and forehead. Then he wondered just
what that cryptic message did mean. "Clear skies" because the weather was
fair; "clear skies" because these monsters had landed; or "clear skies"
because whatever had been headed toward Laboue had gone around the planet?

He convinced himself the last interpretation was the most likely, since no
detection equipment known to mankind could have pierced the shell currently
protecting the inmates-and there was no truer definition of those who resided
on, or under, Laboue right now. So it had to be safe. The Stones would not
have lied to him. They didn't know how.

Hafiz did get in touch with Quiabriel as protocol required.

"I'm going above, Quiabriel. I mustbe in touch with my people, to reassure
them. I will report on the condition of the surface once I have ascertained if
any damage has been done. But I must surface."

"If you must, you must," Quiabriel replied in a grudging tone. "However, do
not respond if there is any change in the surface at all. And a thorough scan,
please."

"Has not the Second Prophet admonished us, 'Do what thou shalt do, but do all
in order and as fitting My children'?" Hafiz replied genially, while vowing
that some day Quiabriel would pay for the tone of voice he had just used to
the Head of House Harakamian.

The process of unshielding and rising took time. Hafiz had the ladder placed
in one of the upper rooms, at the tallest window near the ceiling so that he
could countermand the action if he found reason to do so.

He saw no danger, as his dwelling made a stately ascent into the fresh, clear
air of Laboue. All around, of course, -where other gardens should be, and
other dwellings hidden within them, there was blank and featureless space. For
the Shielding provided Laboue with a sterile desert surface in some places or
rampant, impenetrable jungle vistas which clearly said to any observer that
this planet wasn't worth further inspection.

Clambering down the ladder while his extensive household was still climbing up
out of its basement retreat, Hafiz made his way to his office and reactivated
his contact with the receivers implanted in one of Laboue's little moons.

Messages came flooding in to his receiver. Those from Rafik went from queries
to near-hysterical demands for reply. Some of the later ones from his
associates also ranged from moderate concern to the hysteria that
characterized Rafik's.

"It's nice to know that I've been missed," Hafiz said, until he realized that
he had also missed out on a fine coup and a large profit. He got more and more
upset as he began to tote up just how much money the isolation had cost him in
terms of deals unanswered and missed opportunities. When he got his hands
around the necks of those . . . those . . . what had they called themselves? .
. . Linyaari, he would show them not to deceive the Head of House Harakamian
with such dramatic hoaxes.

Yelling for his servants to ready his spacecraft and telling his chief steward
to report to Quiabriel, Hafiz almost ran to the hangar in his anxiety to be
airborne and back in the midst of the world from which he had temporarily
excluded himself. He must show himself in person at the trading centers of his
personal empire, and at once. Who knew how long it would take him to repair
the damage done? Who knew what negotiating it would take to prove that the
Head of House Harakamian was not a coward, diving underground at the first
sign of danger? What had made him panic so badly at those obviously
manufactured scenes shown by the Linyaari?

He was already demanding a nav plan for Twi Osiam when he calmed down enough
to wonder, again, whether the scenes broadcast to Laboue might not have been
real and not a hoax. After all, the people who had broadcast their warning
were Acorna's folk. He'd never known her to lie ... but of course, his beloved
nephew had raised the girl so she would value truth. A pity, that. . . with
better training, she might have been most useful to him in the business
dealings of House Harakamian. But she was so incurably candid that he
suspected her species could not be other than straightforward. And why would
they have shown their own species being tortured if there were not some
substance to their outrageous claim that this part of the galaxy was in
danger? That those .. . those .. . barbaric savages were on the loose in the
immediate vicinity?

He sent a lucid message to Rafik on the Uhuru, mentioning that he was again in
circulation and asking what Rafik had been able to save of their current deals
without his authorization, which, in some cases, Rafik still must present to
seal a contract.

He got back the signal, which meant the Uhuru was recording the message. Now
where was Rafik? If not on board his ship, he had better be doing business for
House Harakamian. He received back the somewhat reassuring report that the
Uhuru was currently docked at Maganos.

What but a threat to Acorna could have taken Rafik from his assigned business
deals to Maganos? And should she not be apprised of the arrival of others like
her? Worry and concern and a kindly desire to give Acorna this news in person
inspired Hafiz to do something he had not considered in all his adult life: he
put aside his business plans for a purely personal trip to Maganos Moon Base.

"At least the time of travel need not be a total loss," Hafiz told himself.
Some at least of his complex business dealings could be rescued by
long-distance communication, and he spent the time of the journey doing just
that. He was requesting landing permission from Maganos Moon Base when a final
message in the long line he had been receiving was from Rafik.
"Uncle, having no way of communicating with you, I have asked Delsaki Li to
make arrangements on Acorna's behalf. I trust they will meet with your
approval. I will report as soon as we reach Rushima."

"Rushima? Grushima?" Hafiz was totally outraged. He'd never heard of the place
and tapped in a request'for information, trying to control his temper. After
all, he had authorized Rafik to operate on his own, finely tuned instincts. .
. . "An agri planet?" he bellowed when the information came up. "Sponsored by
the Shenjemi?"

Hafiz's dealings with the Shenjemi Federation had not been all that
remunerative, and Hafiz made his value judgments on profits made. He'd had few
enough from the Federation.

"Why has Rafik gone off to Rushima anyway? It almost sounds as if he is
following Acorna. What possessed the girl to take off just when her people
appear in our space? Provola had better know exactly what's happening, or I
may have to wait until Rafik s firstborn son shows what promise he might
have," Hafiz said to the ship in general and no one, certainly not his crew,
in particular.

When his ship docked at Maganos Moon Base Hafiz went straight to Delszaki Li's
private offices, only to find them deserted. Not even the secretary who
usually guarded the inner sanctum was at his post. As a consequence, Hafiz had
no way of finding out that Mr. Li had briefly collapsed after the strain of
the past few days and had been ordered to bed in Maganos s small hospital
facility. The secretary who should have been receiving visitors and directing
inquiries was instead hovering outside the closed doors of the hospital unit,
waiting to hear of the recovery of an old man he had come to love like . . .
well, not a father . . . more like a great-grandfather.

To be fair, Li had no reason to expect any need for his services; since the
triumph of the Child Liberation League had obviated the need for secrecy, Mr.
Li had more and more left the day-to-day management of his financial and
business affairs in the hands of trusted subordinates. Furthermore, when he
visited Maganos he considered himself "on holiday" and expected- and
received-no visitors except those in his immediate circle of beloved
friends-the three miners, the Kendoro siblings, and, of course, Acorna-all of
whom were gone now. Not expecting Hafiz to lower the shield, let alone journey
to Maganos, none of them had thought to leave him any explanations for their
sudden departure. And the secretary, who, like most of the rest of Maganos,
was not privy to the tale brought by the Linyaari envoys, had little to offer
when Hafiz finally located him.

"Acorna and Calum left first, in the AcaSeckl- " Hafiz began. "You know about
that?" The secretary was stunned. "I should," Hafiz said, "she's my ship.
Continue, please." "Well. Everybody was worried about that. The ship wasn't
fitted up properly, you see. ..." The secretary started off in some detail
about the remodeling and improved defense plans for the Acadecki, which he did
know something about, until Hafiz interrupted and very politely suggested that
the man go on with his story about what had happened to cause a mass desertion
of Maganos and Delszaki Li's collapse.

"Well, um, they arrested this . . . person," the secretary   went on doubtfully,
and wondered why his own tongue seemed to be fighting him.   Of course it had
been a person, a young man, he'd seen him, what else would   you call him? But
something else was diverting his attention from the story.   ...

"It's hard to talk with my collar twisted so tightly," the secretary said, "if
you could ..."
"A thousand apologies." Hafiz released his grip on the mans tunic, but not the
steely-eyed glare that somehow brought to mind much worse things than simple
assault... archaic words like bastinado and strappado floated through the
secretary's jangling brain. Once released, he told Hafiz everything he could;
unfortunately, that wasn't enough to allow any reconstruction of what had been
going on in Li's private rooms. Other ... "people" .. . had come... · For some
reason, he had a hard time describing them or even remembering their
appearance; all he knew for sure was that they were good people who meant no
harm, and there was nothing unusual about them.

"And how," Hafiz inquired silkily, "do you 'know' all that?"

The secretary shook his head. "I just know. ..."

Judit, Gill, and Pal had all gathered with Mr. Li to speak with them, and so
had Rafik when he arrived. They kept the door closed, and the secretary
couldn't hear anything except when somebody went in or out. Once he heard the
new visitors speaking in a language that he couldn't identify.

"I didn't get it," the man said. "They had their own ship; they looked rich;
doesn't everybody speak Galactic by now? I can't imagine where they could have
come from."

"Who cares?" Hafiz snapped. "Go on."

There wasn't much left to tell. The strangers had left in their splendid ship;
Judit, Gill, Pal, and Rafik had all left in the Uhuru;

Delszaki Li had been so fatigued that despite frequent short naps while the
talking went on, he had collapsed immediately after their departure and had
been resting in the high-security medical unit ever since.

"They won't let anyone in to see him," the secretary said. "They just keep
saying he's resting comfortably and doing as well as can be expected and all
the usual blather." He looked at Hafiz with some hope. "The doctor might let
you in."

But the Harakamian will met its match in a youngish, tired doctor whose first
medical experience had been as a volunteer to patch up bruised and broken
children on the day of the Liberation, and who revered Delszaki Li as a near
saint.

"He's been heavily medicated and will remain so until I am satisfied that his
physical condition has stabilized," the doctor snapped, "and until then,
nobody disturbs him!"

"If you've got him doped to the eyeballs," Hafiz tactlessly translated the
medicalese, "I don't suppose it would do me much good to look at his sleeping
body."

Consumed with curiosity, he decided to pass the time until Li awoke or a
message came from the Uhuru by finding out what had been done since his last
visit to complete the mining facilities. A sudden thought struck him as he
turned to make his way to the engineering offices. "Ah ~ Provola didn't take
off for the back end of beyond also, did she?"

Reassured that Provola Quero was in her office as usual Hafiz made his way
there after leaving instructions that any news was to be forwarded at once to
Provola's office, the suite which was kept for him in Maganos's living
quarters, and any other place he might conceivably be found.

The door to Provola's office was open, and from some distance Hafiz could hear
a tearful voice pleading with Provola Quero and that woman's calm, cool,
responses, obviously unmoved by the petition. As he entered, his eyes were
taken by the unexpected sight of a generous womanly figure in lavender, nicely
set off by white trim, and enhanced by a number of glittering crystals of
various colors which quivered enticingly from the fine silver chains which
draped the woman's voluptuous body. She would have made two of wiry little
Provola Quero, with her ascetically cropped head and single tight braid-and in
Hafiz's estimation, a true woman like this was worth ten of an engineerfemale
like Provola.

"My dear Mr. Harakamian," Provola said with more warmth than Hafiz had ever
heard in the woman's voice before. She was not his type, and not even feminine
in her appearance, but she was an excellent manager. She turned to the female.
"I must ask you to leave now."

"But where can I leave TO?" was the tearful reply, plump white hands with
beringed fingers wide open in appeal. "I only had enough credit to get here to
help darling Acorna. ..."

"And why, my dear ..." Hafiz paused to allow for an introduction.

"Karma ..." both women said at once.

Hafiz could not resist seizing the delightfully plump white hand now extended
in supplication to him. And he kissed and stroked it while with his other hand
he gestured to Provola that he would handle this.

As he guided Karina out of Provola's inner office, he could hear her sigh of
relief.

"My dear Karina, why did you think that Acorna needed help?" Hafiz said,
gesturing around at the well-appointed waiting room and the busy corridor
outside.

"But she does," Karina insisted, and then his name dropped into the proper
slot in her retentive memory, "dear Mr. Harakamian."

"Let us discuss this matter in the privacy of my quarters," Hafiz said at his
most persuasive and in his silkiest tone. He hadn't seen a woman of these
delicious proportions in so long. Nowadays the emphasis was on trim, slim,
svelte, bony feminine figures, and he'd about given up the hope of finding one
that would be so enticing to him. It was an added attraction that she seemed
to know something about Acorna's present situation.

Karina's eyes widened. "You have rooms here . . . on Manganos'

"I have many personal and business connections with the House of Li," Hafiz
explained, leading her toward Living Quarters A. "A suite of rooms is kept
constantly maintained and at my disposal... or is supposed to be." He finished
with a scowl as he placed his palm on the reader beside the door to his suite
and the door slowly irised open to reveal rooms that had clearly quite
recently suffered from the recent invasion of a careless bachelor. Datacubes
and vids littered the floor, never having been put back in their individual
cases; a natty suit in lime green and fuchsia lay crumpled at the entrance to
the shower cube; and a half-empty glass making rings on the polished Tanqque
purpleheart wood of the nearest table testified by its smell that the recent
occupant of these rooms had taken to heart the Second Prophet's relaxation of
the restrictions on spirituous liquors.

"My heir," Hafiz growled. "Soon to be my ex-heir if he does not mend his
ways'." He activated the wall console and requested a thorough cleaning for
the suite, then suggested to Karma that they should repair to one of the small
dining rooms off the main cafeteria instead. "And when Rafik comes back," he
said, "if he comes back, I shall enroll him in the Personal Hygiene and
Cleanliness classes taught to the children ofMaganos, for clearly he is in
sore need of basic instruction!" The thought of tall, dignified Rafik cramped
into a child's desk and lectured on the need to clean his teeth properly
tickled Hafiz's fancy and dispelled most of his anger.

Karina dispelled the rest of it by asking how he could possibly be annoyed
with such a fine, brave, handsome man as Rafik and vowing that she had
recognized him instantly from his resemblance to Rafik. If she had in fact
done so, it would have been a remarkable feat of imagination, since Hafiz was
six inches shorter and thirty pounds heavier than Rafik, and his creased face,
now consciously amiable, bore a strong resemblance to that of a crocodile
hoping that some day another fat, brown child would tumble down the bank.
However, to Karina, hungry and stranded for days on a strange planet without
credit, Hafiz looked truly beautiful as he led her to a small dining room
where he requested a tray of cream pastries and his special blend of kava.

"Now, dear Karina, do tell me how it happens that a friend of Acorna's should
have been left in this sad plight," Hafiz invited her, "and what you would
like me to do to the villains who abandoned you so."

"Oh," Karina said, "they are not villains, they are Enlightened Beings, and I
am almost sure they did not mean to leave me in desperate straits, only they
were in a hurry, and, of course, I had not told them I had no credits left.
How could I? You do see, don't you?"

"Of course," Hafiz agreed urbanely, although totally con- fused.

"They have beautiful auras, you know," Karina rambled on, "as of course you'd
expect of Acorna's race - "

"The Linyaari are here?" Hafiz interrupted her. Although he had put aside both
his current business dealings and the tempting thought of making an exclusive
trade agreement with the first sapient aliens to contact human civilization in
order to look after Acorna, now that he was actually at Maganos and nobody
seemed to be panicking on Acorna's behalf, he could not help thinking how
lucrative such an arrangement might be ... and that he, as one of Acorna's two
guardians, should by rights have first pickings. He had not reckoned on her
other guardian somehow magicking the Linyaari to his residence first.

"Well, not anymore. They went after- "

"Ten thousand Shaitans! I should have known that crafty old dog of an
unbeliever would get ahead of me!" Hafiz drummed his fingers on the tabletop,
temporarily oblivious to Karina. "But perhaps Rafik has protected my
interests. Yes, that must be what he meant by 'arrangements.'" The downward
creases on his face lifted slightly. "In that case, I may well forgive the boy
after all. Karina, my dear lady, I must speak with Delszaki Li's secretary
again at once; can you ever forgive me?"

Karina's eyes darkened with a sorrow that was not entirely due to the fact
that she had not quite finished the last of the pastries. "But we've only just
met!"
"And I look forward to many delightful hours improving our acquaintance,"
Hafiz assured her. "And although my business is pressing, I refuse to leave
unless you promise me that you will take proper care of yourself and
eventually retire to my suite to rest. You must eat to keep up your strength
and to maintain your exquisite beauty." He called for a portable console and
left orders for Karina to be able to request anything she desired at the
charge of House Harakamian.

That should be safe enough, he thought cynically; there was nothing to buy on
Maganos Moon Base except food and the simplest of basic necessities. Later he
would give himself the pleasure of ordering new garments from Kezdet for this
generously endowed beauty, a project that would absolutely require him to
acquaint himself with her exact dimensions, and later . . . who knew what
might not follow? Best not to alarm her; he would not want such a treasure of
voluptuous womanhood to take flight while he was occupied in business talks.

His first order of business was to extract from the secretary the terms of any
trade agreements that had already been filed. With any luck there had not been
time to put anything on disk. Opportunity abounded when a man was prepared to
take advantage of it. Then, if Li was still not available, he could while away
the hours of waiting by courting his lovely Karina. It seemed his trip to
Maganos would be profitable in more ways than he could have ever predicted.


Haven, Unified Federation Date 534.05.25

It was nearly six days before Acorna started staying awake for more than a few
minutes at a time, but then she returned to normal within a few hours of her
last awakening.

"You mean those poor people have been waiting all this time only for me?" she
exclaimed, horrified. "Calum, why did you not go on without me?"

"I," Calum said, "do not possess a sweet voice, a pretty face, or a magical
horn. The mere fact that I was around and helped to repair their corn system
doesn't seem to be enough to make me Trustworthy. It's you or nobody."

"Then you should have wakened me sooner!"

Markel and Calum looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

"We should ve taken vids," Markel said. "Acorna, you have been awake, off and
on-vertical, anyway. Just long enough to use the facilities and devastate our
chard and spinach beds. Then you'd stagger off without saying a word and go
back to sleep."

Acorna shook her head. "I cannot believe it."

"Next time we will take vids!"

"There won't be a next time," Calum said. "I'm not letting Acorna -wear
herself out to that extent ever again."

The Rushimese required that the AcaSeckl land first with only Acorna and Calum
on board; they did not trust vids of Acorna speaking to them from the Haven.

"I just hope that you'11 be able to convince them that the kids really want to
make reparations for the devastation caused during Nueva's coup," Calum said
wearily as they landed. "If they won't let us use the Haven's shuttlecraft as
well as the Acai)ecki to ferry settlers from the flooded area to high ground,
we'll be here for weeks before Dr. Hoa can start work on drying out this
settlement."

"I will try to persuade them," Acorna said, "but it may take time. ..."

Calum chuckled weakly. "And to think we thought we were saving time by
skipping out of Maganos before the repairs were complete! If we'd waited until
the 'ponies were fixed, we wouldn't have been caught up in this mess, we might
have been well on our way to searching the Coma Berenices quadrant by now. . .
. Well, my mother always told me, 'Haste makes waste,' but I was always in too
much of a hurry to listen to her."

"It rs not a waste if we are able to help people desperately in need," Acorna
said, but her lovely eyes clouded over at this reminder of how much time the
stopover at Rushima had cost them. "Someday we will find my people . . . and
you know, Calum, if we had waited for Pal and Mr. Li to agree that the
AcaSecki was ready, we would still be on Maganos!"

Calum had to agree with that. Still, he hoped that the Rushimese got over
their suspicions of the Haven quickly. The longer he was away from Mercy, the
more he missed her . . . and since he had promised himself to see Acorna
safely with her own people before he was free to be with Mercy, it was a kind
of torture to be delayed and delayed here, where they had barely begun their
quest.

"The settlers are arriving," Acorna said. "Let me see what I can do to get
them organized, and you can try to raise Maganos. She gave him an
understanding smile. "Mercy, I mean, all our friends, will want to know what
we are doing."

Calum found that he did not particularly like being "understood." One of the
many things he liked about Mercy was that even if she could guess what he was
thinking, she never told him so!

Oh, well, soon enough they would be on their way out to the Coma Berenices
quadrant, and he could apply himself to nice straightforward problems of
astrogation instead of the most chaotic, unpredictable problems of all. . .
people.

Still, this might well be his last chance to communicate with Mercy in
private; it was thoughtful of Acorna to give him the opportunity. For the
first time in days, Calum activated the Aca()ecki's com unit.

Before Calum could enter his request, though, the com unit gave forth the
nerve-wracking squeal that signaled an incoming spurt-message. He sighed and
waited the interminable seconds while the spurt codes chattered across the
screen, then watched a blurry image gradually become clearer and clearer as
the Aca^ecki's computer expanded the compressed message. As the face on the
screen became recognizable, Calum sat upright and tensed.

What was Rafik doing in this sector, close enough to send compressed visuals?
Had their first message from the Haven gotten through after all, sending Rafik
on a wild-goose chase to rescue them? He'd never live that down. . . .

Rafik's first intelligible words, once the entire spurt was expanded, proved
this was not the case; the call for help had not in fact been received, but
the "all clear" message had. And Rafik was coming on a completely different
errand. Calum listened with growing surprise, replayed the message not once
but twice to make sure he had understood it correctly, then set the corn
receivers on "automatic." He had to find Acorna at once!
They had set the AcaSecki down in the muddy lake where they'd first landed,
thinking that a logical place to start the restoration of Rushima would be
with Joshua Flouse and the settlers who already knew Calum and Acorna. Once
these waterlogged hectares had been dried out and restored to productivity,
the Rushimese would be more likely to trust the good intentions of the
Second-Generation kids who now controlled the Haven. But Dr. Hoa had warned
that the process of draining and drying the area through weather modification
was likely to be brutal; even with Calum's mathematical help, they could
neither predict nor control effects with the accuracy desirable when working
over populated communities.

Calum was rather disconcerted when he came out to find the landing area
deserted, while Acorna stood fetlock-deep in the clarified water,
absentmindedly picking up and tasting small floating strands of filamentous
algae. "Hey, where'd everybody go?"

"They are building rafts," Acorna informed him, "to ferry their possessions
across the pond. There was some discussion of asking us to set down in a drier
spot, but they could not agree on one; every little hill that is not actually
underwater is too full of livestock and refugees."

"Oh. Well, their choice, I guess," Calum said, "as long as they don't take too
long about it. ..." With Rafik's amazing news to impart, he couldn't really
get too interested in the settlers' logistical problems. "Anyway, I've got
something to tell you. Acorna, we don't need to go on in the Aca<)ecki.
There'll be no need to test my program to find your home."

The jubilant note in Calum's voice startled Acorna. "What are you talking
about?" She had never seen Calum like this before. His eyes blazed, and his
fair hair stuck up in an untidy quiff along the top of his head.

"I've heard from the Uhuru. Rafik is coming here." "Rafik?" She felt slow and
stupid, unable to think clearly. Something very important was about to happen,
or had happened; she couldn't tell which. It wasn't about Rafik, though; so
she focused on the details to slow down the important thing, which she was not
ready to hear. "But he was not on Maganos or Laboue. How did he know we were
here?"

"He was on Maganos -when our message got through. And you'll never guess why!"

Acorna thought she did not want to guess. "Does he know everything is all
right now? " she asked. Calum had sent another message as soon as they knew
the situation on board the Haven, but perhaps Rafik had taken off for Rushima
before that spurt came through. Why else would he be coming?

"I guess so." Calum scrubbed one hand over his head; the short yellow hair
flattened like hay under a great wind, then sprang up again, quivering with
excitement. "I mean, he must; I gather only the second message got through.
The first one must have been killed when I shut down so fast. But there's
other news. Acorna, he's not coming alone. Like I just said, we don't need to
go on with the search for your home."

It had been the first thing he'd said, and she had known at once what it must
mean. She had been holding the meaning away from her, bracing herself against
it, trying to keep him from saying it with all her questions about Rafik. But
it could be delayed no longer.

"They have found us," she said, slowly, and regretted it the next instant.
Half the bright exultation drained from Calum's face.
"Yes-I wanted to tell you. How did you know?" "I guessed. Why else would he
stop here?" Acorna felt as if she were feeling her way with bare hooves across
a shaking quagmire, treacherous ground that might dissolve under her at any
moment. "So . . . they are coming for me?" Calum confirmed her guess. "With
Rafik?" "They have their own ship, of course. They think it is faster;

Rafik is not so sure, but he wanted to be sure you had the news before they
reached Rushima. He thought it might be too great a shock if you saw them
without warning."

"That was . . . considerate of him." Shock? What was that? This numbness
through which she moved, half-disembodied, half-sinking under feelings she did
not recognize-was that shock? She felt as if she had been poisoned; her limbs
tingled, and her eyes could not take in the light that had been there a moment
ago. If she had really been poisoned, though, she would be able to heal
herself. And this moving darkness was not something she could heal with a
touch other horn.

"Acorna?" Calum sounded far away. "Acorna! Are you all right? I thought you'd
be happy!"   "Of course I'm happy," she said with an effort. She forced a
smile to her lips. "My people. My dream come true. How could I be anything
else but happy, dear Calum?"

"Well, that's what I thought," he said, still sounding doubtful, "but for a
moment you looked almost ill. Are you coming down with something, do you
think? But you shouldn't . . . you don't get sick."

"No more I do," she agreed, with another smile. "I think I was a little dizzy
for a moment. It was quite a shock, you know." She thought of the
disappointment that Calum must have been loyally concealing. Such a good
friend ... he and Gill and Rafik had always been so good to her, the only
family she had ever known. He had wanted to discover her home himself, not
have the location handed to him. The least she could do now was play up to
him.

"And, Calum, now we will not have to wait months to find out whether your
deductions were correct. My . . . people will surely be able to tell us the
exact location from which they came. Won't it be interesting to find out
whether it matches the destination we chose on the basis of your program?" He
could still have the satisfaction of being proved accurate ... if he had been
correct.

Calum grinned. "You're right! We don't need a construction proof; we'll have
an existence one! And another thing-"

"Calum, you know I don't speak mathematics," Acorna said in warning.

"Not about my program. About your people! Rafik says they are telepathic,
isn't that wonderful? And they have a very high code of ethics; it took them
quite a time to decide whether we were worthy to know them." Calum blithely
condensed what Rafik had already abbreviated, the Linyaari discussion over
whether humans were linyarii or khievii. "Oh, by the way, they call themselves
Linyaari, although I expect it just means something like 'People' in their
language. Their technology is way beyond ours in some respects-apparently
they've got some kind of automatic language-learning system. The ones who are
coming already speak Basic, so you'11 be able to talk to them right away,
isn't that great? And best of all, Acorna, one of them is your aunt!" Calum
beamed as if he were giving her a wonderful present.
"Talk to them?" Acorna said faintly.

"Yes, right away. Although now I think of it, you probably won't need to use
Basic. If they're telepathic, you must be, too. You'll just be able to merge
minds with them."

"That's . . . wonderful."

Calum looked suddenly uncertain. "Your own people, a family of your own . . .
Acorna, don't quite forget us, will you? Gill and Rafik and me?"

Acorna stood up, pleased to find that her legs would, after all, support her.
Standing, she was now taller than this one of her three foster parents.

"Calum, I will never forget you. You three are my family, and nothing can
change that," she said firmly. "But I ... I need to think. Do you mind if I go
out for a run now? I can think better in the fresh air."

"All right, but be careful, won't you? All that heavy weather's done some
funny things to the terrain. You don't want to go spraining an ankle or
getting your mane snagged in a wire fence," Calum warned, exactly like any
overanxious parent who can't quite grasp that his or her child is grown-up.

The fetlock-deep water slowed Acorna and forced her to lift her feet high as
she set off at a steady pace for the distant horizon. She had to stay
constantly aware of minor changes in the underlying ground which she could not
see through the mud her running stirred up. She was grateful for the
difficulties of running; they were a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

All too soon, however, she reached the edge of the lake bed and was running
upward over a gentle slope covered with soggy wet grass that squelched
underfoot but required no particular attention from a runner. The oversweet
smell of rotting vegetation came up to her nostrils with each breath; the land
was waterlogged, water-poisoned. But under the cover of soggy, rotten dead
grass there might be living roots and the promise of new life in a gentler
season. Was there a similar promise for her, of life ^ an environment that was
truly hers? Or was she a misfit, neither of the Linyaari nor of the race that
had fostered her? As Acorna's pace evened out she found unwelcome thoughts
and fears once again plaguing her. Her people . . . did that mean Calum and
Rafik and Gill were no longer hers? Calum had asked her not to forget them,
but was the truth not more likely to be that they would soon forget her?

What had she ever been to them but a burden and a complication? They'd lost
mining time to raise her from infancy, lost their jobs to protect her from
Amalgamated's unethical scientists, and then had been thoroughly entangled in
her crusade to rid Kezdet of child labor ... a cause they might sympathize
with, but would surely never have undertaken but for her. Even now their lives
were being distorted around hers. Did Gill really want to be a foster parent
to the children relocated on Maganos, or did he secretly long for the freedom
of asteroid mining? Did Rafik resent being called away from House Harakamian
business? Was he only coming to Rushima because his sense of duty required him
to be present when Acorna met her own people? And as for Calum-would he ever
have undertaken the long and risky voyage they'd planned if he had not felt it
his own duty to restore Acorna to her home? Certainly he had not seemed all
that disappointed to learn the voyage and search were no longer necessary.

As she breasted the hill and began loping down into the long valley before
her, Acorna decided that the three ex-miners would probably be only too happy
to hand her over to "her people" and know their responsibility to her -was
ended.
And what other? She was supposed to be ecstatically happy at being reunited
-with her own race. Wasn't that -what this whole voyage had been about? Now
Acorna faced the fact that she had never really imagined an end to the voyage.
The planet Calum had targeted as her probable home lay so far away that the
prospect of reaching it had never been quite real to her. Now, without the
expected months of waiting and preparation, suddenly she was supposed to
rejoice at being thrown into the arms of these strangers. They might look like
her, but what else would there be to link them? "Linyaari," she whispered to
the wind, trying out the unfamiliar word. "Linyarrri? Liiinyar?"

The word evoked no recognition in her, any more than the syllables of her
native language that Gill and Rafik insisted she had pronounced when they
first met her. "Awi," she'd said aloud then. "Lalli." They were nonsense
syllables to her now, nothing more.

Calum was occupied with figuring the rate of thrust required to take off the
mass soon to be inserted into the spaceship when Acorna got back to the
AcaSeckl, tired and sweaty from her long run. She used most of their fresh
water in frantic showering, afraid the approaching Linyaari would be disgusted
by the sight of a hot, sweaty, barbarian relative, then purified the water and
let it trickle back into the tank. Wrapped in a dark green towel, nervous over
the coming meeting and what it might mean to her, she considered the meager
wardrobe choices available to her. She hadn't been thinking of clothes when
they made their getaway from Maganos. The only important thing then had been
to begin the search and escape from well-meaning attempts to delay. Now, as
she surveyed the available choices with mounting dismay, perhaps sublimating
her fear over what the next few hours might hold, clothing assumed an
importance it had never before had for her.

All she had brought were plain ship's coveralls and an assortment of gaudy
disguises such as the one she had donned while pretending to be a Didi. All
the disguises were frothy and elaborate, to match the large, lavishly
decorated hats she used to cover her horn; they were not to Acorna's taste at
all. She would not meet her newfound relatives in something she considered
vulgar and garish-but would they be insulted if she wore only her everyday
ships coveralls? What would such highly civilized beings wear? Did they dress
for dinner, like the characters in historical vids? Maybe they were clothed in
shimmering force fields of light and would think anything she donned quaint
and provincial. . . .

Calum was aroused from his brown study by a tall, slender, agitated female
wearing nothing but yards of green towel, a silyer mane, and a sprinkling of
water droplets. "Calum, this is impossible!" she declared. "I don't even know
when they will be here or what they wear! What if they don't like me? What if
they think I look barbarian and provincial? What if ... and I can't even talk
to them," she exclaimed, flinging up her arms. "I don't remember-" The towel
slipped, and she made a hasty grab for the top edge just in time to avert
disaster. "I don't remember any words of their language. My language. They're
telepathic. I'm not, so -what if I'm some kind of a mental defective by their
standards? You said they had trouble deciding whether human beings were worthy
of an alliance with their race, and look what they had to study-Gill, Judit,
Rafik, Mr. Li ... if they aren't good enough for the Linyaari, how will I ever
measure up?" Her eyes were silver lines in dark pools of distress, and she was
beginning to make the whinnying sound that was as close as she ever came to
sobbing aloud.

"Hold on a minute, girl," Calum said, "you're not being rational here."

"Oh, yes, I am!" Acorna contradicted him. "I am being quite rational; I have
thought this whole thing out very carefully, and Calum,
this-is-not-going-to-work! I cannot meet them, don't you see?" She whirled
away from him, silver hair flying through the air, and he thought that not all
the moisture on her face had come from her recent shower. He wished to God
Judit were here, she'd know how to calm Acorna down. Or Gill. Or even Rafik!
Why did it have to be him who was stuck with the task? A man didn't specialize
in mathematics because he had a rare talent for human relationships. All Calum
had was reason and logic, and he made one more attempt to apply it.

"Acorna, how do you know you're not telepathic? If it only works between
members of your race, and you've never been around any others - "

"I just know," she interrupted him. She had thrown a second towel over her
head and shoulders and was rubbing vigorously as if to dry off her hair; her
voice was muffled by layers of fuzzy fabric. "I'd have felt something before
now if I were a telepath. I shouldn't be surprised if they exposed me at
birth. You know the ancient Greeks used to do that with defective offspring,
or even superfluous girls-I am certainly superfluous to them, don't you think?
What would they want with some barbarian who can't even speak their language?
Only, being such a high-tech race, naturally they wouldn't just leave me on a
mountaintop. A space capsule must be a much better means of disposal, don't
you see? After all, the mountain thing wasn't totally reliable-look at
Oedipus."

"Who's he?" Calum was completely out of his depth now.

"Really, Calum," Acorna said in tones of freezing superiority from the depths
of her covering towels, "don't you read anything? He was exposed because of a
prophecy that he would murder his father, only a shepherd took him in and
raised him, and then one day he met his real father at a crossroads and they
got in a fight and of course Oedipus didn't know who he was, so he killed him,
and then . . . well, after then he behaved most improperly, all through not
knowing anything about his origins, and I think eventually he blinded himself.
So you see why I can't meet them."

"I see you're talking a lot of nonsense," Calum said. "I never met this
Oedipus chap, and what's more I don't want to, because he sounds quite loopy
to me. You're not loopy, and you're not going to kill anybody, and the
Linyaari want you. They've come one hell of a long way for you, so I most
seriously doubt that they sent you off in an escape pod to begin with. It'll
have been some kind of accident, that's all, and no doubt they'll explain it
all when they get to Rushima."

Acorna had dropped the towel that covered her head and was nodding silently.
Under the illusion that he had calmed her fears, Calum made the mistake of
adding, "Now why don't you just get dressed; pick out some pretty thing; you
want to look nice when your people get here."

"You don't understaaaand," Acorna wailed, and was off again, hiccuping and
whinnying. Calum patted her shoulder and prayed to the Gods of Balanced
Equations that Gill, Judit, Rafik, somebody who understood females would reach
them before the Linyaari showed up and wanted to know why he'd been upsetting
their foundling. But to his great relief, she calmed herself quickly enough
and was once again-at least on the surface-the quiet, sweet-tempered girl he
had raised. It was the arrival of Joshua Flouse with the first rafts that
restored her to normal. On hearing the splashing approach of the settlers,
Acorna quickly dashed cold water over her face and slipped into her coveralls.
"I am sorry," she said. "I have been foolish, and -we have work to do. Calum,
do you not need to go to the Haven and collect that working party? "
"Might as well take the first load of settlers to high ground, then go on to
the Haven from there," Calum decided. "But they'll have to leave their goods
here for now, except for what each one can carry; when I get the kids
dirtside, they can do the heavy lifting.

That decision, announced by Calum, caused a furor, which only Acorna could
calm. As she waded through the lake, speaking quietly to each group of
settlers with their raftload of treasured personal possessions, the cries of
outrage died down and the Rushimese farmers grudgingly poled their rafts back
to the soggy "shore." Once there, Joshua Flouse displayed the talent for
leadership that had made him spokesman for this settlement, quickly separating
each pile of personal goods into those that were too fragile to be left and
those that might reasonably survive Hoa's weather modifications if carefully
stored in an outbuilding.

Even with this division, and with Calum s requirement that each refugee carry
his own possessions, he and Acorna wound up doing far more than their share of
physical labor. Children and old people and invalids had to be helped into the
Aca()ecki., and the helpers could not carry anything else. Calum personally
stowed a tea set brought at great expense from the Shenjemi home, piece by
fragile piece, and then cursed himself for wasting time with such trinkets
when he saw Acorna wading through muddy water with twin infants clinging to
her neck and caressing her horn. By the time the Acadeckl was filled with
refugees, Calum and Acorna and the able-bodied men and women of the
settlement, who'd chosen to see their weakest members to safety first, were
all exhausted and dripping with mud and sweat. But the labor seemed to have
been good for Acorna; or perhaps it was the twitters and coos of the babies
who were entranced by her horn and silvery mane that had restored the shine to
her eyes.   The settlers' hard-won calm almost disintegrated, though, when
Calum told Acorna to board the Accuiecki, that they could take no more
passengers on this trip.

"How do we know you'11 be back?" cried a burly man who'd all but exhausted
himself helping weaker settlers board the ship.

"You're not going with my babies, and me not with them!" a young mother
exclaimed fiercely.

The imminent danger of a riot was averted when Acorna stepped out of the ship
before Calum could stop her.

"I will stay with you," she said in her clear, sweet voice, and the uneasy
group subsided at once.

"Well, if she stays...."

"You're a dammed fool, Kass," somebody said to the burly man who'd begun the
protest. "Oughta know there's no funny business when the likes other is
involved."

"'Ow'd I s'posed to know that?" the unlucky Kass protested. "Never seen nothm'
like her before, did I?"

"Just gotta look at her . . . besides, she cleared the water for us, didn't
she?"

Acorna gently urged the people away from the base of the ship and waved at
Calum. "Go on," she urged him. "Everything will be all right."

Not without misgivings, Calum lifted off once the settlers on the ground were
well clear of the area. What would Rafik and Gill say to him if they knew he'd
left Acorna alone, even briefly, in such circumstances? But there seemed
little choice . . . and with any luck, they never -would know.

Acorna was not the least bit concerned for herself as Calum lifted off; she
didn't have time for that. There were too many wet, muddy, disgruntled people
to be helped into some semblance of organization, too many piles of hastily
abandoned household goods which the owners had left with anxiety and a great
many last-minute messages: "Mind and keep all my things together and don't let
that Auntie Nagah be poking around in them. ... Be ^re they stow those
datacubes of mine somewhere safe and dry, that's the only library on all
Rushima. . . . Now be sure and keep that table upside down, see, one of the
legs falls off if you pick it up the other way, but 'er's a good table and
solid."

Solid " 'er" certainly was; Acorna had to enlist the help of Flouse and Kass
to get it carried as far as the soggy bank. "Leave it there," Flouse said.
"I'll ask one of the dryland settlements to send a motodray-all ours are fair
ruined with this wet, see?" He wiped his sweating forehead. "Blest if I know
how old Labrish ever got it that far, and him half-crippled with the
rheumatics."

Acorna rubbed the small of her back in rueful agreement. Although strong, she
was already tired from carrying most of the children to the ship. But they
seemed calmer in her arms than in anybody else's, even their parents'.

One of the parents was sitting, at the water's edge, uncaring of the mud that
smeared the cuffs other coveralls, crying quietly. The woman's tears ran in an
unending stream down her face to join the silty water of the acres-wide
shallow "lake."

Acorna recognized the young mother who'd protested against her children being
taken off without her.

"They will be all right," she said quietly, sitting down beside the
grief-stricken woman without regard for her own clothes. "I promise you that.
And very soon Calum will come back for more people, and you will be with them
again, in a nice dry place where you can get them clean and they can sleep dry
and warm; won't that be better?"

"They'll be frightened without me!"

"But you'11 be with them very soon," Acorna repeated, "and in the meantime . .
. they do have your own elders from this settlement to watch them, and Calum
himself is very good with children."

The young woman sniffled. "Doesn't look like a man who'd have much patience
with their little ways."

"Looks are deceiving," Acorna said with a smile. "Calum raised me from
infancy, and he is much more patient than he seems.

"You? Garn!" The woman looked up and down Acorna's tall body. "He ain't hardly
old enough!"

"Looks," Acorna repeated, "are deceiving." She did not add that it was her
appearance, not Calum s, which was deceptive; the settlers had accepted her
strange looks with surprising equanimity. She did not wish to remind them of
her alien nature by explaining that she came of a race which could apparently
grow to physical maturity in just four years.
By personally promising to   see that the young woman was taken on the very next
shipload, and talking in a   low, soothing voice, Acorna got her somewhat calmed
down; and that calm seemed   magically to spread through the crowd. This was
shattered as the roar of a   ship's engines filled the air and all but drowned
out the voices of those on   the ground.

"Oh, good," Acorna said cheerfully, "see, here's the Accu)ecki back already.
..." But it didn't sound like her own dear ship; in fact, it didn't sound
quite right for any ship she had ever heard. It came down much too quickly,
and the roar stopped too abruptly, and she had barely glimpsed a flash of gold
and scarlet before it landed with a hiss of escaping heat that turned the
shallow lake bed to a wall of steam clouds.

As the clouds cleared, Acorna saw a craft not dissimilar in shape to the
U-class starships of Delszaki Li's fleet, but ornamented with gaudy scrollwork
of scarlet-and-gilt ribbon shapes that curved about the hull. She blinked and
rubbed her eyes. How did they do that? No decorative paint could survive
repeated searing journeys through a planet's atmosphere ... no paint known to
humanity, she thought with a flash of panic, and suddenly the ship seemed
utterly and completely alien.

Around her there were sudden cries of fear, and the young mother beside her
leapt to her feet with the evident intention of running away. Acorna jumped
up, too, if only to keep the girl with her; if these people ran in panic, this
frail young woman and many others might slip and be trampled . . . who were
these new arrivals? They could only be the Linyaan . . . her people.

My peoples-alien, alien, alien-no, my own people. Her heart thudded
irregularly, and the young mother pulled away from her with the strength of
sudden, desperate panic. Acorna realized suddenly that she herself was
contributing to the fear of the crowd. Perhaps if she could calm down and set
an example . . .

"There is nothing to be afraid of," she said, trying to keep her voice from
shaking. She raised it slightly. "You don't know who is in that ship, but I
know. These are more of my kind. You aren't afraid of me, are you? Well, then!
They've come to help, not to hurt you."

As her commonsense words percolated through the crowd, the momentary danger of
a panic-stricken flight passed. The settlers were still nervous, Acorna could
feel that in the tense movements of their bodies and the way they stood poised
on both feet as if ready to fight or flee; but they were listening to reason
again.

If indeed it was reason ... she could not be sure that this alien ship held
her own people, could she? And yet, beyond all reason, Acorna was sure of it,
even before a hatchway too far up the side of the ship opened and let down a
ladder whose treads were too steeply set for human legs, even before the eerie
sensation of looking in a distant mirror came over her at the sight of tall,
slender, silver-haired people slowly descending the ladder with their hands
open in a sign of peace and the golden horns on their heads glittering in the
Rushimese sunshine.




Ruthima - Unified Federation Date 334.05.25

There she is ... my 'Khornya . . . our 'Khornya!
 (We must tell her . . . them . . . now. It would be wrong to keep them in
ignorance, Neeva, and there are surely enough of us here to prevent any
panic.)

(Let me greet my 'Khornya first. Can we not have this one moment in peace
without being reminded of. . . )

Acorna had a confused image of something alien and terrifying, something like
a metallic ant heap writhing with hatred and destruction.

(As you will. But she must be told soon.)

They were within speaking distance now, lifting their long, elegant legs clear
of the muddy water with each delicate step. Behind them, Acorna recognized
Nadhari Kando, Delszaki Li's personal bodyguard. She had no energy left to try
and figure out what Nadhari was doing here; all her attention was on the
beings so like and yet unlike herself, who were so rudely discussing her to
her face. Acorna couldn't figure out how she had heard them so clearly even
when they were still quite some distance away, but it didn't really matter
now.

"What is it you need to tell me?" she asked.

The tall woman in the lead blinked and said something in a rush of liquid,
nasalized sounds that meant nothing to Acorna. She shook her head, feeling
dull and stupid, and suddenly all too aware of the sweat that soaked her
coveralls and the mud that ornamented them in soggy brown blotches.

(I thought you said she was old enough to speak "when Vaanye and Feriila took
her on that trip, Neeva! What's the matter with her? Is she retarded, do you
think?)

(Probably neglected. They -wouldn't know how to care for one of us.)

Well! In all her childish fantasies about finally meeting her own people,
she'd never imagined anything like this! Acorna blew out an indignant "Whuff!"
through her nostrils and lifted her head proudly, forgetting the mud on her
coveralls and all her doubts about being acceptable to these Linyaari.

"There is nothing the matter with me," she said slowly and clearly, "except
that I am afflicted with inconsiderate relatives. I used to imagine all sorts
of things about the people of my race, but one thing I never thought of was
that they would be rude. I am not retarded, and Calum and Gill and Rafik took
better care of me than you can conceive, and I am proud to have been raised by
them!"

Beside her, the young mother she'd befriended stirred uneasily.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" she demanded. "They ain't said nothing yet, 'cept
that foreign gibble-gabble, and I don't think you understood that any more
than I did!"

Acorna frowned, puzzled. It was true - she had not understood the only thing
that had been spoken; and yet they had said those other things . . . hadn't
they?

(Oh, my dear 'Khornya! Have you never heard mind-speech before?)

(Of course she hasn't, Neeva. Remember, barbarians raised her.)
(Don't pay any attention to Thariinye, my dear. He is incurably rude . . .
hardly linyarii!)

The untranslatable word carried, in mind-speech, all its connotations of
"real-people-like-us," "civilized," "sapient," and "ethical."

Acorna started to speak, then deliberately closed her lips and thought at the
others.

(Perhaps ... I am not. .. linyarii.. . either. It is true ... I was raised by
these people ... you call "barbarians"... AND I LOVE THEM!) she finished in a
desperate unmodulated rush.

A woman standing behind the leader winced. (Do try and teach her not to SHOUT,
Neeva.)

Then Neeva's arms were about Acorna, and she touched horn to horn, and with
that contact came a flood of emotion not translatable into any words: joy, and
mourning for the parents Acorna could not remember, and absolute,
unconditional welcome.

(You are both linyarii and Liinyar, and you are ours,) Neeva thought with
absolute conviction. (I am Neeva of the Renyilaaghe, visedhaanye ferilii of
this expedition, and you are 'Khornya of the Renyilaaghe, my sister-child.
Your parents were Feriila and Vaanye of the Renyilaaghe; you have Feriila's
eyes.) And Neeva's clan memories surged into Acorna: a blue-green grassy world
of rolling hills and bright streams. A tall man with eyes the deep silver of
the shadowed grass, who smiled and tossed a laughing baby up in his arms; a
sweet-faced woman whose silver eyes were the mirror of Acorna's own; feast
days of flowers and singing, little furry animals that chattered in the trees.
. . .)

"My dream!" exclaimed Acorna aloud.

Neeva drew back slightly, but still keeping both hands on Acorna's shoulders.
"Your ... dream?" she asked in slightly nasal Basic.

It had been a treasured dream that sometimes came to Acorna in the drowsy
moments between sleeping and waking, sometimes not for months at a time,
sometimes two or three times in a single week. It was among her earliest
memories, and it had been in her mind even before that, for Gill and Rafik had
told her that as soon as she learned a few words of Basic she had occasionally
wakened speaking of strangely colored skies and demanding angrily to know the
name of an animal they had never heard of.

Haltingly, Acorna told Neeva of the fragments she retained from a dream that
had always left her feeling safe and loved. "There was a garden where the
grass was soft and almost blue, and someone held me up to see the
singing-fuzzies in the trees. ..."

"No dream," said Neeva, and the silver pupils of her eyes narrowed to vertical
lines. "That was a garden in the clan-house of the Renyilaaghe. Your father
Vaanye used to take you to see the thiliiri in the trees there; he said you
sang like a thiilir instead of crying like an ordinary youngling. And Feriila
and I would chat while Vaanye played with you . . . don't you remember?"

Acorna shook her head, feeling her own pupils contract like Neeva's.

"No matter, no matter." Neeva rested her horn against Acorna's for a brief
moment of infinitely reassuring contact. "You are ours, our memories are your
memories, you will share them all as we do." Underneath the spoken words
Acorna could hear a cry of grief and pity. (How could you survive so, all
alone?)

(I was NOT alone,) she thought, and her own memories of Gill and Rafik and
Calum flooded into Neeva's mind.

(I see,) said Neeva in a much-altered tone. (We had not expected there could
be a bonding. . . .)

"Not a bonding, not like that," Acorna said, since Neeva's sense of bonding
meant a physical, sensual tie. (They nurtured me, taking turns. .. .) She
touched horns again with her aunt and let loose a myriad of scenes from being
bathed as a small child in a small sink to her sampling all the plants in the
'ponies, to understanding "no," and then learning how to read and write, and
how to do more important things like find rhenium where they didn't know it
would be, and understanding equations and how to place bets to win. And, most
of all, protecting her from those who thought her deformed. . . .

(Deformed?) And the others echoed the word, shocked. Especially the tallest,
who stood slightly apart from the other two women. From that one, Acorna
sensed masculinity and pride and something else. If that was what a grown
Liinyar male looked like . . . well . . . Acorna forced her thoughts away from
that area.

(Yes, deformed. They nearly took it off.)

(They nearly what?) All four Linyaari cringed, and the male actually put a
quick hand up to his horn, as if protecting it from the very thought of such
an action.

(So you see, I owe much to Gill, Rafik, and Calum. They never, ever left me
alone.)                                  j

(Yes, my dear child, we will express our gratitude for their care of you in a
substantial manner.) Neeva drew Acorna a little farther away from the clutch
of settlers who were distinctly interested in what was going on.

"I ain't heard 'im say much at all," the young woman complained. "Just
touchin' them horns together like stags back on Shenjemi. And they ain't
neither of them stags."

Neeva beckoned to Khaari to join them in a three-point touching so that
Khaari's personality could reduce the shock of what they had to impart to
Acorna.

So it was that Acorna learned about the Khieevi and why her parents had needed
to send her from their ship to prevent her capture. Both Linyaari cushioned
her against the horrible scenes of torture that the Khieevi perpetrated on
helpless Linyaari Acorna pitied the poor victims and understood why her
parents had wanted to spare her from it and give her that one slim chance to
live.

(We are also here to warn this quadrant of the galaxy that the Khieevi are on
their way here,) Khaari said, nuzzling Acorna with her horn to reduce the
shock that did, indeed, shudder its way through Acorna.

She broke their hold, looking about in shock at the poor bedraggled settlers.
(Be easy, Acorna) Khaari said sharply. (You are broadcasting fear, and they
will sense it. Melireenya, help us dampen this. Thaari, you, too. As I said,
help is on its way. This Rafik has called upon an army. . . .)

"Is that why Nadhari's here?" Acorna managed to peek over at the short woman
who was standing in a parade-rest position, not seeming to look at anything,
but, if Acorna knew the woman, and she did, seeing everything. Only what could
Nadhan do, trained and intrepid as she was, against people who frightened the
tall, elegant Linyaari?   (Several come. These people will be safe. But you
must be in the safest place,) Neeva said, sliding one hand around Acorna's
slim shoulders. (For -we must not lose you again. Come, into our ship.)

"No. I promised that I would stay here until the Aca^ecki comes to take
another load away from here. And these are not the only ones that must be
protected," Acorna said, backing away from her own people. "I can go nowhere
until the entire planet is evacuated if the Khieevi things are coming this
way."

"We can take zum in our ship," Neeva said, glancing over and doing a mental
count of the heads she could see. "But not all."

"All, or I don't leave this planet."

(It is obvious she is linyarii,) Thariinye said in a bored tone. (Only females
will support a lost cause.)

(Be still with such foolish talk, Thaari. We must get her to safety. And I do
not think we will have much time.)

(The armies are coming. We know that.)

(But when? And soon enough?)

"I don't go without these people and as many others as we can find," Acorna
said, and suddenly Nadhari Kando was beside her.

"That's telling them, Lady Lukia," said the bodyguard in her gravelly voice.

Meanwhile, Rafik had reached the Haven, fully expecting to see Acorna awaiting
him. The first ship he spotted in the huge hangar bay of the Starfarer ship
was the AcaSecki. He did not see the Linyaari ship. But his instrumentation
had shown that the Linyaari ship had been far enough ahead of even his
superfast Uhuru to have landed, collected Acorna, and been back before he
could arrive. Calum was there, and Rafik charged angrily toward the one
familiar face, only to stop and stand stock-still when he realized that the
man next to Calum was familiar, too.

"Johnny Greene, what   in the name of misbegotten imps, djinni, and Shaitans are
you doing here?" But   he thumped Johnny on the back with more enthusiasm, Calum
thought, than he had   ever displayed on being reunited with his old mining
partners. "Is Acorna   on the bridge? Where's that fancy ship of the Linyaari? I
know they made it to   Rushima ahead of me."

"We expect them at any moment, Rafik," Calum said absently. He was absorbed in
counting the other old friends who were even now disembarking from the Uhuru.
Judit, Pal, Gill. . .

"Mercy? " he inquired hopefully.

"She felt it was her duty to stay ·with Mr. Li. He wasn't looking so good-oh,
nothing to worry about," Rafik said. "We've been in touch with Maganos; he was
in bed for a few days but he's okay now, and anyway Uncle Hafiz is with him.
Apparently he decided to raise the shield and"-he gestured helplessly-"it's
rather a lot to explain. Now where's Acorna? "

"On Rushima."

"You left her alone? On Rushima?" Rafik's coffee brown face faded to a dingy
gray.

Calum gave Rafik a dirty look. "I'm sure you would have arranged everything
much better if you'd been the one to get kidnapped by Palomellese space
pirates. Forgive me, all I managed to do was rescue us"-actually Markel should
have gotten the credit for that, but Calum was past being reasonable-"help
recapture the Haven, and work out the mathematics needed for Dr. Hoa to
reverse the weather devastation on Rushima. She's needed there now to help
with relocating the settlers to high ground, and so am I. I just stopped to
get a working party of kids off this ship."

He had the slight satisfaction of seeing Rafik's eyes widen.

"Like you said," Calum added in an offhand tone, "it's rather a lot to
explain. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get on with the relocation. We have
to have all these people on high ground or off the planet before Dr. Hoa can
start. ..."

"Forget the high ground," Rafik said in a strangled voice. "A different planet
is exactly what we need for them. Maybe a whole different system."

It was Calum s turn to goggle. Quickly Rafik filled him in on the threatened
invasion which had brought both the Uharu and the Linyaari to Rushima.

The corn unit on Johnny Greene's belt squawked suddenly.

"Armed force approaching. ..."

"That'll be the Red Bracelets," Rafik said, and added, "I hope. . . ."

On their -way to the bridge he sketched the situation for Calum and Johnny,
who relayed the information to the Haven's young crew so that no further
explanations were needed when they reached that area. Full-screen displays
gave a view of nine approaching ships: a dreadnought, flanked by two battle
cruisers and six destroyers, all of whom were capable of carrying light
fighters within as the fleet now angled down to the same plane as the Haven's
position.

Rafik gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, they're our people ... so to speak. We've
bought them for this engagement-that is, Delszaki and Uncle Hafiz together
have."

Calum s eyes widened. "The entire Red Bracelet fleet? How are you-we-going to
pay for that?"

"That's all of your friend's fleet?" the kid in charge of the displays snapped
over his shoulder. "Then who're these guys?"

The scene altered, and, although the screen s magnification had not been
changed, it was obvious that another triangle of nine ships-of a. design Rafik
had never seen before-was also closing fast on this same position.
"The Khieevi?" Calum asked.

"Must be," Rafik said. "I got a-well, a picture in my head from Neeva, she's
Acorna s mother s sister. ..."

Her aunt...

"I think they've got a different kinship structure. She calls herself
mother-sib to Acorna, and the feeling I get is that it's more like a second
mother than an aunt."

"What the hell difference does that make with the design of the Khieevi
ships?"

"None, but that's them," Rafik said, pointing. "And they're still far away,
because close-up, Melireenya says the smallest of them is twice the size of
the Haven."

Calum swore with great verve and imagination, impressing Markel.

"And Acorna s on Rushima "with those things coming after her? Why didn't it
occur to any of you great thinkers to mention this little invasion when you
were sending that joyous let'sreunite-the-family spurt-message? "

Calum s scathing glance swept over Rafik and his companions. Gill turned red,
Pal stared straight ahead, and Judit dropped her eyes.

"Rafik thought we shouldn't risk starting a panic among the Rushimese," Gill
mumbled.

"It was your idea, actually," Rafik said.

"Whatever! Anyway, we all know now; and what are we going to do to protect
those people from what's coming at them?"

"First step," said Calum, "is to get Acorna and the Linyaari up here, find out
what exactly they know about these Khieevi. These mind-pictures you're talking
about can't be any substitute for a good discussion of strategy and tactics.
And as soon as the Red Bracelets are within range, we need to get their head
honcho in on the talks. You stay here and work on opening communications with
the Kilumbembese, Johnny; I've got to collect Acorna."

"I'm coming with you," said Pal in a tone that brooked no argument.

When the Aca^ecki returned to settle in the extensive but shallow mud puddle
that the Haven had created from a hectare of lowlying fields. Pal was first
out of the hatch. He stopped in midstride, shocked by the appearance of the
gaudy scarlet-and-gold ship that sat a short distance away, and even more
shocked by the sight of the Linyaari envoys scattered through the crowd of
Rushimese settlers. Actually it wasn't that so much that bothered him; it was
the fact that Acorna was neither with the four envoys nor alone. The tall,
overbearing young male who'd been arrested by a security guard on Maganos was
by her side, bending over her with an attentive expression that made Pal want
to deck him. Behind them stood Nadhari Kando, apparently relaxed . . . until
one noticed that she was lightly balanced on the balls of her feet, hands
free, eyes constantly scanning the space around Acorna for possible threats.

"Look at that oversize . . . stallion," Pal muttered to Calum in tones of
disgust, as the other man joined him. "Making time with my girl while we've
got an emergency on our hands!"
"I don't think she's your girl now. Pal," Calum said sadly. "I don't think
she's any of ours, now."

"Yeah, but-"

"Save it for later," Calum advised him. "For now, help me figure out how we're
going to get Acorna and the others up to the Haven without being mobbed by the
Rushimese."

Pal hadn't served as Oelszaki Li's personal assistant for years without
learning how to keep a poker face and, more important, how to spin a
convincing lie on the spur of the moment. As he moved through the crowd,
grinning and repeating his tale about a purely temporary glitch in the
resettlement and the need to get help from these aliens in preparing adequate
facilities for all the waiting settlers, Calum could almost believe it
himself. Certainly none of the Rushimese questioned Pal's story, though Calum
thought he saw a quizzical look on the face of Joshua Flouse-a man who, as
settlement leader, had undoubtedly had his own experience with making up
plausible tales.

Even Pal, though, could not keep the whole group of settlers calm without the
help of the Linyaari. That became evident as he began, like a good sheep dog,
cutting out the aliens and neatly herding them out of the crowd and back to
the AcaSecki. He had to get them one at a time, and as each one left, ripples
of unease stirred through the crowd, only settling when the remaining Linyaari
spaced themselves out more evenly in the mass of humans.

Acorna was reluctant to come with Pal, but he explained that they needed
information from the Linyaari, and that she, as the only person who could
communicate with them telepathically and who was also familiar with Basic
Interlingua, might be needed to make sure that they understood the Linyaari
information about the Khieevi correctly. She and Thariinye were the last but
one of the Linyaari to come aboard, followed by Nadhari Kando, who was taking
quite seriously her orders to guard Acorna at all times; only Neeva remained
with the Rushimese.

"She's not coming," Pal reported.

"Oh, yes, she is!" Calum started down the steps, prepared to bring the
Linyaari Envoy Extraordinary to safety by force if necessary, but Acorna
caught his arm. "Calum, one of us must remain here," she said in an urgent
undertone. "If I am truly needed to interpret-"

"You are," Pal said in a firm tone that brooked no argument.

"Then one of the envoys must stay." Her pupils narrowed. "I wish it were not
Neeva . . . but we Linyaari cannot all leave."

"I don't see why!" How quickly she had identified herself with them: "we
Linyaari" indeed!

"Yuu would not," drawled Thariinye. "We haff skills yuu know nothinn of...
anny one of us cann keep these beings calm in ways yuu do not unnerstan. Eeven
little 'Khornya could do it!" He put his arm around Acorna's shoulders and
patted her arm patronizingly.

"It is true, Calum," Acorna said. "They . . . we . . . can put forth an aura
of peace and calm that will keep the settlers from panicking. But if we all
go, and the AccSecki as well, they will surely think we are abandoning them."
Calum thought grimly that this might well be true, unless the Linyaari and the
humans on board the Haven could come up with some way to protect an entire
continent full of far-flung, scattered settlements from imminent invasion.
Right now, he'd kill for the secret to Uncle Hafiz's planetary shield. But
with the only man capable of installing it and making it work buried six feet
under on some distant planet, the Rushimese -and anybody else on the surface
of Rushima-were dangerously, potentially fatally, exposed.

But he did not wish to say this to Acorna, nor to confess that his own
immediate objective was to get her to the relative safety of the Haven.
Rushima was virtually without defenses, and the AcaSecki didn't have
top-flight weaponry and defenses owing to his and Acorna's eagerness in
leaving before the retrofit of the weapon systems was complete.

He began to forgive Rafik for his reticence about the Khieevi invasion. It was
not the sort of news one wished to broadcast to an already unhappy crowd.

Nor did he care much, himself, for the idea of abandoning the Rushimese to
their fate. He would bring Acorna and the Linyaari back to the Haven, but
after that he would be free to use the AcaSecki up to the last minute in
ferrying the Rushimese . . . ·where? The Haven could hardly provide space, let
alone life support, for all the farmers in this and other settlements. Perhaps
there were caves where the people could hide.

He would worry about it later, Calum decided, as he broke all records and
several safety regs in his eagerness to blast away from Rushima and get Acorna
to safety.. . and, as a minor objective, to get her out from between Pal and
Thariinye, who had strapped in on opposite sides of her with the evident
intention of glaring at one another and exchanging barely veiled insults all
the way back.

Fortunately, it took only a matter of minutes to reach the Haven and dock, and
once on board, Calum discovered that a solution to the problem of the
Rushimese settlers had already been found ... if the Red Bracelets would go
along with it. Already a harsh Kilumbembese voice crackled from the spurt
decoder.

"Admiral Ikwaskwan to Haven, regarding your requestDenied. My men came to
fight the enemy, not to baby-sit civilians. It is not in our contract to
perform transport services for these . . . farmers!"

Rafik spoke into the recorder. "With respect, Admiral, we believe you will
find that Section 19, Subsection iii, Paragraph (b) of your contract requires
you to operate under my direct command in all matters not specifically
military. I do hope we can resolve this matter amicably; penalties for
forfeiture are explicit and ... ah ... rather steep. I fear my uncle is not at
all of a forgiving nature in such matters." He hit the code and transmit
buttons and sat back with a sigh as the response was compressed for spurt to
the lead ship of the Red Bracelets.

Seconds later, another transmission was received, this time accompanied by
vid. Ikwaskwan s harsh, high-boned face stared out from a gray background
slashed by a single curving red line. "We shall reach Rushima orbiting range
within the hour, at which time we will discuss this in person," he snapped.
The screen went blank with no parting formalities from Ikwaskwan.

"Dear, dear," Gill said, "seems the -wee mannie is just a tad annoyed with us,
Rafik. You had better take me along for this personal discussion he wants."
"And me," said Nadhari Kando in her low, gravelly voice.

"You're going nowhere," Rafik said briefly, "and neither am I. Really, Gill,
one would think you had learned nothing of the art of negotiating from all
those years of watching me in action! Uncle Hafiz would not have chosen an
heir so stupid as to conduct difficult bargaining sessions on the opponent's
home turf." He thought that over briefly. "Well, Tapha probably would've," he
conceded, "but Uncle didn't exactly choose Tapha." Hafiz had expressed no
particular grief when his dim-witted, conceited son had died in an attempt to
assassinate Rafik before he could be disinherited in Rafik's favor, and none
of his friends believed this was because of his iron control of his feelings.
. .. He had, in fact, been heard to comment that Tapha's untimely death saved
him a fortune in legal fees.

"Nothing difficult about it," Gill said. "It's in the contract, isn't it? He
has to do whatever you say, apart from direct battlefront decisions."

Rafik regarded his erstwhile partner with amusement. "And just who," he
inquired lightly, "is going to enforce said contract at this distance when
they're heavily armed and outnumber us by a factor of thousands? As for later
. . . Ikwaskwan is, I'm sure, quite as well aware as I am that time, distance,
dead witnesses, and lies can blur the definition of just what was or was not a
direct battlefront decision. No, we will have to find other methods of
persuading him."

"To do what?" Calum, a latecomer to this discussion, demanded.

Rafik briefly explained to him that on the nearest star system to Rushima, but
well out of the current sweep of the Khieevi fleet, they had identified a
planet with acceptable gravity, atmosphere, and water where the Rushimese
could take refuge until the battle was over ... if the Kilumbembese mercenary
fleet could be pressed into service to transport them there.

"Will we have time?"

"That," said Rafik, "depends to some extent on exactly how long it takes to
persuade Ikwaskwan to accept our views."

Although he was present for the subsequent discussion, opened as soon as the
Red Bracelet flagship Ta'anbl was within hailing range, Calum was never quite
clear on just how Rafik managed to persuade "Admiral" Ikwaskwan to come aboard
the Haven rather than the other way round. All he could say was that there had
been an exchange of compliments in which Rafik so carefully veiled whatever
threats or bribes he was offering that it would take the twisty mind of a
Harakamian ... or a Kilumbembese mercenary ... to figure out what was going
on. All he knew was that Rafik sighed when the exchange was over and commented
that this could be expensive, and he hoped Uncle Hafiz and Delszaki Li were
prepared to pay for cost overruns beyond the scope of the original contract.

"You're bribing him to move the Rushimese?"

"I am hinting that cooperation will not go unrewarded," Rafik corrected
Calum's surmise. He sighed again. "We'll doubtless have to commit ourselves to
explicit promises and named sums before he agrees; I just hope I can keep his
demands down within reason."

Nadhari Kando broke her customary silence. "I may be able to help persuade
him."

"Any help you can give would be most appreciated," Rafik said with a courtly
bow. He started to ask whether it was true, then, that Nadhari had once served
with the Red Bracelets; but something in her cold, expressionless stare put
him off. He had heard that Li's bodyguard did not discuss her past; it would
be impolite to bring it up now. Risky, too. Decidedly risky.

Acorna turned and looked up at Thariinye. "Cannot we help, too? If it is a
matter of persuading . . . you were so good at calming the Rushimese!"

"Calum tells me you did pretty well at that yourself!" Pal exclaimed.
                  ·

Thariinye smiled and patted Acorna's shoulder. "Little 'Khornya will learn,
but she is unpracticed. Best to leave this to those with the experience to be
tactful and diplomatic."

(Well, that leaves you out, Thariinye! I'd sooner have 'Khornya handle it; at
least she knows how to be nice to people!)

(Will you just get off my case, Khaari?)

Acorna's pupils narrowed to slits, and she looked back and forth between the
Linyaari while the others wondered just what was going on.

(Please, Khaari, don't be angry on my account. What Thariinye says is true,
you know; I have not practiced your . . . our . . . arts and I would likely be
only a hindrance to you.)

(Never a hindrance, dear child, but we do not wish you to exhaust yourself.
Thariinye, Khaari, save your energies for this visitor; do not waste
yourselves in quarreling.) Melireenya's firm intervention quashed the
momentary altercation and brought the four Linyaari together in at least
superficial unity-for Acorna unconsciously moved to stand with her kinsfolk as
they drew closer together.

When "Admiral" Ikwaskwan boarded the Haven, Calum understood why he had not
been afraid to negotiate on Rafik s turf. He was accompanied by a squad of
mercenaries in dark gray uniforms, .each man visibly armed and alert. Calum
noticed that some of them wore one red bangle on the left wrist, others two or
even three, while Ikwaskwan himself was bare-armed. Some kind of rank symbol?
Nadhari would know; he wished he had asked her before the Red Bracelets came
aboard. Perhaps Rafik already knew.

Nor was the bodyguard Ikwaskwan's only protection; his first words-he
dispensed with the time-wasting formalities of greetings and
introductions-made it clear that his flagship had weapons trained on the Haven
and that at least one member of his bodyguard carried a fully armed tungsten
bomb.

Rafik smoothly agreed that it was desirable to take all possible   precautions
when visiting, mentioned with a deprecating smile that the Haven   was itself
not without weaponry both offensive and defensive, and said that   he personally
would deeply deplore any dissension which should cause injury to   their honored
ally.

(Meli, are you sure these "humans" are on our side?)

(No . . . but at least they are not Khieevi.)

(That is beginning to seem less and less of a recommendation. Like us in form,
perhaps, but hardly in ethics.)
(That may not be entirely a bad thing. If they meet their friends with weapons
in both hands, what do you suppose they do to their enemies?)

(Thaninye, you have abominable taste. Besides, if they are so suspicious, they
will likely destroy one another before the Khieevi even arrive.)

The Linyaari continued their internal debate. Acorna listened, wanting to cry
out in defense of her friends, but also concerned that her newfound kinfolk
would think her, too, a warlike barbarian. If only Neeva were there! Acorna
longed for her aunt's wisdom and acceptance.

Once the opening dance of establishing ascendance was over, with neither side
a clear winner, Ikwaskwan demanded to know exactly what additional
compensation would be granted his troops for the service of ferrying dirt
farmers from one planet to another.

Rafik cleared his throat and prepared to equivocate to the best of his not
inconsiderable ability; but before he could speak, Nadhan Kando sauntered out
from her semiconcealed position behind the group of tall Linyaari.

"Hi, there, Ikki," she said, her usual gravelly drawl muted to an almost husky
tone, "it's been a long time."

Not long enough! was written on Ikwaskwan's bony face at sight of Nadhari, but
he had too much self-control to voice the feelings. "Nadhari Kando. I had
heard you were dead."

"The rumors were gravely exaggerated," replied Nadhari without cracking a
smile. "But since we appear to be on the same side again, Ikki, I hope you are
a little better at carrying through your plans now than you were then."

"I could hardly be worse," Ikwaskwan muttered, as if to himself. "How did you
. . . never mind. So you're doing securityguard work now, Nadhi?" His scornful
tone made it clear he thought she had come down in the world.

"I am under contract to the House of-Li," Nadhari said without blinking, "as
are you and your troops, Ikki. Tell me, did M'on Na'ntaw ever hear what became
of that credit exchange from Theloi?"

Ikwaskwan licked suddenly dry lips. Nadhari waited patiently, thumbs hooked
into her belt, one knee slightly bent toward the man she called "Ikki."

"Or did the data get lost when his second-in-command was assassinated?"
Nadhari prodded. "Remember? Everybody thought it was counterrevolutionaries,
but no one could explain how they'd gotten hold of the plans for our camp.
Very clever of them to go straight to Skomitin's tent and back out again
without getting caught, wasn't it?"

"So delightful to talk over old times," Ikwaskwan said with a tight-lipped
smile that did not reach his eyes. "We must have another little chat some
time, Nadhi dear, but just now I am needed at my own bridge. Rafik Nadezda has
indicated that there is some urgency about this little population transfer,
and you know my feelings on honoring the wishes of the client."

"I certainly do," Nadhari agreed. Her own smile was echoed in her wickedly
glinting dark eyes. "So does E'kosi Tahka'yaw . . . oh, no, I should say, he
did know, did he not?"

"Later, later," Ikwaskwan mumbled. "Must return to the Ta 'ani)i now. Nadezda,
have the goodness to transmit orders and location of the targeted system, also
a map of the settlements to be evacuated here on Rushima."

Rafik nodded, stern and unsmiling. "All necessary data shall be at your
disposal. . . Admiral."

Not until the closing of the outer ports indicated that Ikwaskwan and his
bodyguard were physically off the Haven and on their way by shuttle back to
the flagship did he allow himself a long sigh of relief.

"Nadhari-" he began, but the quiet woman had vanished.

"Who were those people she was talking about?" Gill asked.

Calum shook his head. "Never heard of 'em. Meant something to Ikwaskwan,
though. Ikki?"

"I don't," Rafik said gravely, "believe I want to ask. We owe her, though . ..
and I'd better get busy transmitting those orders!"

(See, Khaari? These humans aren't so bad after all. They settled everything
quite amicably.)

(It must be that a pretense offeree is part of their greeting ritual,)
Thariinye suggested. (You know, like a singing-fuzzy erecting his tail spines
when he's courting.)

(Isn't it nice that the Admiral met an old friend on board this ship?)

(But who'd have guessed it? Nadhari is such a sweet, gentle girl, how do you
suppose she got to be friends with a professional fighter?)

Acorna listened to this exchange and once again decided not to say anything,
either out loud or mentally. Her kinfolk seemed to have totally missed the
point of that tense, threatening conversation; but why disturb them, if they
were happy with their own interpretation?

fourteen

Riuhlma, Unified Federation Date JJ^. 05.26

If some of the Red Bracelets were offended at being ????????? I assigned to
evacuate settlers rather than to strictly military tasks, two of the newest
officers were complacent at the prospect. Ed Minkus and Des Smirnoff joined in
the grumbles of their unit but then Smirnoff, in a surprising volte-face,
volunteered himself and Minkus to pilot one of the shuttles that was to be
sent to outlying areas. Although most of the small settlements on Rushima
consisted of clusters of homes and storage sheds along the single primitive
road that snaked through the eastern part of the main continent, there were
always those individualists who desired privacy, unspoiled territory, or
simply the chance to acquire a larger grant of land in compensation for
developing areas far from existing transport. Some of these settlers might not
be able to get to the collection points currently being specified by
continentwide emergency broadcasts on the hastily replaced com-sat equipment.
Others might not even hear the 'casts since their equipment might be down or
damaged. Some individualists were prone to turning off their com systems for
weeks at a time. Ikwaskwan reluctantly agreed to send a few low-flying
shuttles to seek out stragglers, although he was adamant that all his people
should be back at their stations well before the ETA of the Khieevi force.
"You crazy, Des?" Ed Minkus grumbled as they prepared to board the shuttle
assigned them. "Never volunteer for anything, that's what you told me was the
first principle of surviving in this outfit."

Des Smirnoff laid one finger to the side of his bulbous nose and winked, while
saying in a loud voice that echoed through the hangar, "Why, Ed, didn't we
swear an oath of loyalty to the Red Bracelets? And doesn't a loyal comrade
enthusiastically support whatever his superiors order? Duty and honor, Ed!"

Captain Ce'skwa, their Unit Leader, heard the speech and gave Des a long,
disbelieving look. "Suck-up," murmured one of the Red Bracelets working on the
next shuttle.

Des gave the man a wide, brilliant smile and a thumbs-up sign before
clambering into the pilot's seat of his own shuttle.

Ed started to ask what all that nonsense had been about, but Des silenced him
with a sign. The chatter of takeoff instructions filled the cabin; Des went
through his checklist and said nothing that was not strictly business until
their craft was well on its way to a landing on Rushima. Then he slapped the
corn unit off, turned to Ed, and grinned.

"You always were thick between the ears, Minkus."

"Not thick enough to put myself out for work I don't have to do," Minkus
grumbled. "Ikwaskwan's not fool enough to send all of us on transport duty.
Some lucky sods will get to stay behind, manning the battle stations and
polishing command chairs with their rears, and we could've been among them."

Des snorted. "Not bloody likely, with us so new there as to've accumulated no
seniority and no friends with strings to pull! We were for this duty, my
friend."

"So you thought volunteering would make you look good?"

Des winked again. "I thought, Ed me boy, him as volunteers first gets the pick
of the assignments. Now which would you rather be doing for the next six hours
- commanding a troop or slogs to feny the dirt farmers back and forth, with
some twobracelet type watching your every move, or taking your pick of what
the evacuees left behind in their hurry?"

"But we're supposed to ... oh," Ed said as understanding belatedly dawned.
"You aren't going to look for settlers at all, are you? You're going to look
for places they've already left!" He guffawed. "Neat trick, Des. Okay, we'll
take it easy and say too bad, couldn't find no stragglers, Captain Ce'skwa,
ma'am!"

"We will not take it easy," Des contradicted him. "We've got just six hours
Standard and who knows what goodies to collect and stash in that time."

At the rendezvous landing they were met by a sweating dirt farmer who offered
them their choice of datacubes or a handdrawn map showing where he thought
most of the outlying settlements -were. Des was about to spurn the paper map
when Ed discovered that the datacubes were in a format incompatible with the
shuttle's computer. "Okay, okay, we'll take the map," he said, grabbing it
before some of his colleagues could make the same discovery.

Captain Ce'skwa glanced at the map and quickly assigned each of the four
shuttles on outlier duty to a different quadrant. Des grinned in satisfaction
as he saw the generous sprinkle ofX's marking probable settler huts all over
his quadrant.

"Eager for work, Smirnoff?" Ce'skwa said drily. "You surprise me."

"Hope to continue doing so, ma'am!"

As she turned to the next pair of pilots, he continued under his breath to
list the ways he'd like to surprise the uppity, interfering bitch, then
snarled at Ed. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get going! We've only five and
three-quarter hours Standard left to collect ... all these poor, unfortunate
souls," he finished with a sanctimonious smirk.

The first two places they flew over looked not only deserted but too poor to
be worth looting: ramshackle huts whose roof timbers had been lifted off by
some freak wind, the interiors soaked by torrential rains. "Nobody's lived
here for some time," Des grunted, "if you could call that living ... and if
there was any good stuff, it's long gone or buried in mud. Whoever built here
was an idiot anyway; obviously the area is subject to flooding- he shouldn't
have settled on low ground."


The third place looked more promising. A long, low stone building tucked into
the shelter of a cleft in a rocky hillside, it had been high enough to escape
the floods, and the cliff must have sheltered it from the worst of the storms
that had devastated the forest at the top of the hill. Des's eyes sparkled,
and he guided the shuttle to a landing place on a barren outcrop of rock above
the building. "Now this looks more like it!"

The scramble down to the building was rougher than it had looked from the air;
the thin layer of topsoil over the rocks had been washed away by pounding
rains, leaving a barren, slippery surface with precious little to hold on to
and not even any good footholds. Ed wished that Des had landed in one of the
waterlogged fields below the house instead, but he knew that saying anything
would only ignite Smirnoff's temper and would not spare him the slippery
descent. He took his time, though, testing what miserable footholds he could
find and tugging firmly on roots before trusting his weight to them. Des slid
recklessly down, bouncing and bruising his anatomy on various outcropping
ledges of rock, got to his feet at the base of the cleft, and lumbered toward
the house, blaster in hand, before Ed had even finished praying to all the
gods he could bring to mind that he wouldn't break his neck on the last
fifteen feet of the descent.

He was dangling by one hand, eyes closed, feeling for the ledge that had
bruised Des on his descent and praying that the burly man hadn't broken the
rock off entirely, when a bellow of delight from within the house startled him
into letting go and dropping the last few feet.

"Minkus! Get your worthless butt in here and help me shift this stuff!"

"Shit," Ed said, not exactly in reply, "I think I broke something."

"You better not have, ol' buddy," was the response. "If I have to choose
between carrying you back to the shuttle or carrying this load of furs, well,
the furs have some market value. ..."

With this encouragement, Ed limped as far as the outer door of the house-more
of an elongated cabin, really-and decided that his right ankle was not really
broken after all. Sprained, maybe. A bad sprain. He ought to be lying down
with his foot up and an ice pack on the sprain, not hobbling around pretending
to rescue settlers. Whose idea had it been to join the Red Bracelets anyway?
Probably Smirnoff's, but he couldn't remember for sure. They had both engaged
in some heavy drinking after being thrown out of the Kezdet Guardians for
embezzlement, peculation, and abuse of suspects to a degree that revolted even
the other Guardians.

It had been after one of those drinking parties and the subsequent blackout
that Ed had wakened to find himself dressed in a gray uniform and being
addressed as "Scumsucker," by the broad he had quickly learned to call
"Captain Ce'skwa, ma'am!" What followed had been the most strenuous and
miserable weeks of his life; Captain Ce'skwa had a talent for convincing them
that they would really rather attempt whatever bonecrunching, muscle-tearing
"exercise" she assigned than explain their failure to her.

And that had been the officers' training; his and Smirnoff's experience in the
Kezdet Guardians had at least bought them a single red bracelet apiece on
entry. He didn't even want to think about what the rank and file of the
mercenaries went through as basic training.

Now he turned a jaundiced eye toward the stack of halfcured furs Smirnoff was
fondling and inquired where exactly Smirnoff planned to stash those things
that they wouldn't be noticed by Captain Ce'skwa. "They stink, too," he
pointed out. "Whoever had this place wasn't through tanning them when he lit
out. Even if you could hide them, she'd be bound to notice the smell. I'm
sorry, Des. We need to look for smaller stuff."

Des scowled. "Do you know how much furs of this quality would fetch in the
Zaspala Imperium? And I've got a perfect fence . . . uh, buyer; my cousin Vlad
has a furrier's and tailor's emporium, caters to the Zaspala aristos. Shit!"

And he signaled his acceptance of Ed's strictures by whirling the bundle of
furs around at arm's length, then tossing it at the open cabin door. Ed
dodged. The bundle landed with a thud, the bindings split, and furs spilled
out into the thick black mud left by the rains that seemed to have assaulted
this whole area.

Des dropped his blaster and went through the cabin with the recklessness of
rage, spilling out food stores in case they contained jewels or antique money,
smashing crude pottery cups and dishes that all too obviously had no resale
value even on Rushima, let along anywhere civilized. While he smashed and
destroyed he cursed monotonously, taking out his disappointment over the furs
on the inanimate objects in his path.

"Why couldn't the jerk have been a prospector instead of a fur trapper?" he
demanded of the ceiling.

"He is," cackled a dry, crackling voice behind them. "OneOne Otimie, explorer,
trapper, prospector, and misanthrope extraordinary, at your service,
gentlemen! Don't do anything reckless, now; I ain't real familiar with this
here de-vice, wouldn't want to set it off accidental like."

Both men turned slowly to see a dried-up little stick of a man in the doorway,
holding Des's blaster with two dismayingly shaky hands.

"Broadcast said as the enemy was comin', and we was to clear out," One-One
said "with a cackle, "but I don't reckon on leavin' my place to no in-vaders,
nosirree! You fellas was tumble careless and noisy. Give me plenty of time to
hide out up yander." He jerked his head toward the cliff they'd descended with
such pains.

Des glanced at Ed and moved his head slightly to the left. Ed knew what he was
thinking: if they got far enough   apart, the old geezer wouldn't be able to
keep the blaster trained on them   both, and while he shot at one the other
would be able to tackle him. But   what, Ed thought, if he was the one who got
blasted? Damn it! He'd known the   Red Bracelets was no outfit for him.

"No TACTICS?" Rafik raised both arms in total incredulity and flopped back
into his chair. "You've been captured, tortured, pursued for generations.
You've had your home world disintegrated, and you have still developed NO
TACTICS to fight these Khieevi?

Gill, Calum, and Ikwaskwan looked equally confounded by Melireenya's
remonstrative expression.

"Linyaari do not kill."

"That's fine and dandy if someone isn't trying to kill you," Johnny Greene
said.

"You mean all you've been doing since those . . . those devils started
extinguishing your race was run and tell everyone the wolves are coming?"
Rafik asked, still staring with disbelief at the calm Linyaari.

"No, we have . . . designed defensive weaponry," Thariinye said, not at all
liking Rafik s reaction. "We have designed ships-"

"Which can outrun them," Rafik finished for him, as Thariinye drew himself up
to his not inconsiderable height with indignation. "Fine, fine. Do you know
what sort of firepower they have? What sort of weaponry they can bring to bear
on us?" Rafik had risen, come out from behind the table, and was advancing on
the tall Linyaari in as belligerent a pose as anyone had ever seen him use on
another sentient being. "Because we sure as hell are NOT running away. Nor are
you in that fancy fast ship of yours. The chips are down, the game is up, and
it's here or never." Rafik finger-combed his hair back into order because he
had been emphasizing his words so vehemently, his longish hair half covered
his face.

"We, too, are armed and ready," Khaari said firmly. "They" - she pointed to
the phalanx of Khieevi ships-"have missiles of great strength, capable of
destroying all but your largest ships ..." Khaari found herself unable to get
out the syllables of the mercenary leader's name. ". . . Add-mee-ral," she got
out. "They attack and attack until the ship is so ... made holes in ... that
it can no longer return fire."

"That's not tactics," Rafik muttered, "that's suicide. At least"-he glanced
thankfully at Ikwaskwan - "we ve the proper attitude and experience to hand
right now." He went to the screen. "Have your ships power enough to flank
them, Ikwaskwan?"

"Of course we do, and considerably more firepower than they are likely to have
if all their kills have been as easy as these horned types say. I mean, no
contest. Go for the dnve, the bridge, a few shots midships, and you've
disabled it."

"Now that the settlers are safe," Melireenya said, "would it not be wiser to
depart this system before the Khieevi arrive? Thus no one will be harmed."

"This time," Rafik said. "Your own experience has shown that running away
won't work forever. And we barbarian bipeds have a strange reluctance to hand
over real estate we've worked hard to claim."
Acorna felt enclosed in an isolation cell from all that was said around and
about her. Somehow, in those few moments she'd allowed herself to envision her
"own kind," she thought they'd be ... well, wiser. More aloof, more
self-contained: not that Melireenya wasn't, but Thariinye stood there with
this supercilious expression on his face, which didn't become him at all, and
he obviously loathed Rafik for making all Linyaari seem craven. But, if you
weren't raised to kill, or hate, or scrabble for a living as her Kezdetian
children had, why would you need to know tactics?

(One uses tactics in maintaining peace and accord, 'Khornya,) said the soft
voice of Melireenya. (But, at first all we could do was run, or be certain
none of us were captured alive. The vid we showed you is from our earliest
contact with the Khieevi. And it was your father who invented the most
devastating weapon we have. We dare not use it against the Khieevi because it
destroys the destroyer as well. So we do not mention it until there is no
other recourse. Do not fault us that we have been tardy in learning the skills
of aggression and the weapons of defense. Had we not come to warn you, you
would not have known the threat approaching you now.)

Though Melireenya stood on the opposite side of the conference room, Acorna
was abruptly "in" the room again and not isolated from her kind or her
defenders.

"So, let's get this tub"-Rafik paused to bow a smiling apology to
Andreziana-"behind the moon, where it is not immediately apparent to the enemy
converging not so slowly but very surely upon us. You don't want to have a few
of Admiral's Ikwaskwan's gunnery officers stay aboar'd the Haven, do you?"

"I'm gunnery officer," Johnny Greene said, appointing himself into that
position on the spot.

The flush of indignation faded from 'Ziana's cheeks. "We've all had battery
practice. Admiral. We'll pick off anything that eludes your attack."

"Well, now, willya, li'l lady?" Ikwaskwan's eyes glittered.

"Leave it, Ikki," Nadhari murmured, and the light in the Kilumbembese
mercenary's eyes dimmed to their normal shrewd gleam.

And, suddenly everyone was leaving to whatever posts they had been assigned,
and Acorna was alone.

('Khornya,)-Thariinye leaned into the room again, smiling an invitation at
her-(you're with us.)

Calum pushed past Thariinye and got her by the arm. "You'll be on the
AcaSecki. Rafik thinks we can move nonessentials about and make room for more
ammunition. Even if we didn't fit in the extra banks Pal wanted, if we have
enough ammunition, we'll achieve the same effect. More or less. If we get the
chance."

Acorna accompanied Calum, but she bestowed an apologetic smile on Thariinye
and a soft (good luck) as she passed by him. He was still watching her when
she and Calum took the grav shaft down to the hangar level.

What Rafik thought of as nonessential was not so regarded by either Calum or
Acorna, but in the end they acceded to his demands, and racks of additional
missiles were stacked wherever there was room for them, up to and including
Acoma's cabin, the space where her escape pod had been strapped, against the
walls of the main lounge, Calum s bunk, and the spare cabins. The bunks
happened to be exactly the same length as the missiles, and eight were
strapped on top of the mattresses.

This was done with great effort and much sweating and swearing, finished just
in time to hear the Klaxon that warned of an important message about to be
given.

"Captain Andreziana here. Ikwaskwan reports that Rushima can be considered
cleared of settlers. There is one shuttle still missing, but it is expected to
report shortly.

"We will now proceed to our assigned position. All escort ships please prepare
to disembark. And good luck, AccSecki, Balakure."

"Good luck to you, Haven," Rafik said, reaching across the control panel to
open the comlink. He settled himself in the pilot's chair, and, turning his
head, said, "Prepare to leave the hangar."

"Hey, I pilot the Aca^ecki," Calum said, pushing at Rafik to leave the chair.

"I'm the tactician, remember," Rafik said as his slim brown fingers flew
across the control panel. "You're the mathematician. And whichever you are,
strap in."

Calum was still mumbling under his breath when he complied. Acorna muffled a
giggle, and Gill turned his head away. To herself she thought how much like
Thariinye and Khaari Calum and Raflk sounded.

(Not a bit like that undersized egotistical by-blow of a twilit and a
barsipan,) said Thariinye's voice in her head.

(Do be quiet,) Melireenya said at her firmest.

Despite the speed at which Rafik prepared the AcaSecki for takeoff, the
Linyaari ship had already slipped out of its hangar position and was speeding
to take its position in the battle line. fifteen

AccSecki, Unified Federation Date 534.05.26

The Kilumbembese mercenaries got back in the nick of time from ferrying as
many of the Rushimese to safety as possible. As the combined space force of
the Kilumbembese, the gaudy Linyaari courier ship, the three armed pinnaces of
the Haven, the Uham under Nadhari's command, and the AcaSecki-with Raflk in
the pilot s seat-ranged themselves in their assigned battle positions, a
certain steely calm descended in the main cabin of the AcaSecki. The pinnaces
were a last-minute addition, but they upped the odds against the Khieevi
squadron.

Ikwaskwan had decided on a frontal approach. If things went as planned, as
soon as the ships came into firing range, the coalition defending Rushima
should divide their forces into two, confining the Khieevi within their
pincers. This meant that each of the larger ships could bring its port or
starboard missiles into action, swing around, and come back to deliver a
second blow to the attacking ships. If any of the Khieevi ships should break
off for a direct attack on the helpless planet, the smaller ships should
attempt to slow their progress and/or their landing.

"Naval maneuvers need not be complicated, especially when we have never fought
with you before," Ikwaskwan said. Rank would have preferred a more
sophisticated or subtle attack, but he had none to offer. These weren't
asteroids he was attempting to make surrender their valuables, but
sapient-although that was not a certainty-aggressors who had managed to
terrorize the more sophisticated Linyaari. At least more sophisticated in some
areas of technology.

The Khieevi liked to fight, so a fight they would get. Only this time the
buggers wouldn't win so easily. The heir to House Harakamian was no lifesaving
altruist: he was the descendant of red-blooded warriors who had for millennia
taken by force what they desired, and held on to it. Since bargains were
impossible with the Khieevi and force the only thing they understood, he
·would fight them as they had never seen fighting before.

Nevertheless, when the first, seemingly endless missiles spurted out of the
Khieevi vanguard, Rafik prayed to those warrior ancestors with a fervor he had
never before used. It was Gill who triggered the AcaSecki's missile ranks. He
heard Acorna applauding, then Calum raging at Markel . . . who shouldn't be on
board this ship . . . and then Gill tapped him on the shoulder.

"We're reloaded. Your turn."

This time, Rafik snarled as he sent more missiles after the first lot and
recoiled at the bursts of flame and spewed fragments as the AcaSeckl's
missiles contacted and exploded the oncoming Khieevi warheads.

"Sheer off, we're going right into the mess," Gill cried, and Rafik hit the
thrusters in a two-second blast that took the ship safely away, and their
proximity sensors indicated they had missed being blown up by the skin of
their collective teeth. Suddenly it was Gill in the pilot seat, though how he
had relocated Rafik in the second chair, the heir did not know. But Gill's
lips exposed his bared teeth in a snarl, and the intense expression on the big
man's face suggested that his ancient Viking ancestors were a lot more
accessible than Rafik's warriors.

"Oh, just look," Acorna cried, pointing at one of the auxiliary screens, aimed
at where they had just been. "The lead Khieevi ships are breaking up."

"NO!" Calum's negative shout had more than a tinge of fear in it. "They're
breaking OFF."

As Gill turned back to where the mercenaries were pounding the V formation of
the Khieevi, it seemed that the three lead ships were disassembling themselves
into smaller separate units. Far too many smaller units.

They watched, horrified, as the little pinnaces, like minnows against sharks,
followed, their forward lasers punching at the shark tails ... in three cases
making direct hits. But only three instances . . . and luck had to have been
on their side because there were far too many of the smaller Khieevi ships
heading directly toward Rushima.

One of Ikwaskwan's dreadnoughts engulfed a Khieevi ship in such a holocaust
that there were only a few units left to peel off the mother ship, like dry
seeds falling out of a pod. But they made no attempt to correct their downward
direction.

"Dead!"

The battle cruisers took out three more Khieevi mother ships, and sent their
fighters after the few that escaped the devastating firepower of the cruisers.
The destroyers worked at the lowest level of the V of Khieevi, but the instant
the mother ships were attacked, the smaller units detached.
"There're thousands of them," Acorna cried. "Oh, how will we ever destroy them
all?"

"We'll give it a mighty big try, Acorna acushia," Gill said. "What's the state
of our weapon supply, Cal?"

"We'd do better to try launching singly, bringing down a small ship with each
missile, than any more broadsides," Cal said.

"I think ..." Acorna added her opinion, "... that we ought to go for the
mother ships. I know they're now a much smaller target, but if we kill all of
them, the Khieevi will be forced to land on Rushima, and they'll be sitting
targets."

"Good thinking, Acorna," Gill said, giving her a grin over his shoulder as he
maneuvered the AcaSeckl to bracket one of the now-spindly-looking mother ships
in his launch sights.

They were so oddly shaped they didn't even appear to be dangerous, though the
ovoid upper structure was clearly armed, to judge by the laser beams and lance
missiles it was throwing at any target in range. From the upper ovoid a long
stem depended, the stem on which the smaller units had been attached, making
the Khieevi ships seem so much bigger than they actually were.

The dreadnought immolated one of the rear Khieevi in a ball of fire and slowly
began to swing round to target a second. One of the battle cruisers took a bad
hit and swerved out of range, while its fighter ships returned to defend it.

"That's two of the nine gone," crowed Rafik, waving his fists about.

"No, three," Gill corrected him, pointing to one that was no longer firing.

"Yes, but how many dozens of the smaller ones have gotten completely away? "
Acorna asked.

"Lets harry a few to their deaths," Gill said, and altered course once more,
bearing down on a covey of them.

"We're down to laser fire," Cal said.

"Misbegotten son of a syphilitic camel driver," Rafik said, and swore on. "If
you'd listened to Pal in the first place, we'd've been able to go for one of
the mother ships instead of having to go after the small fry."

"Let's fight them," Gill said, "not each other. Ah, got one."

Which he did, but the small ships seem to explode into even smaller divisions.

"How long can they keep separating?" Gill complained in exasperation.

Fighters from the battle cruisers and the pinnaces, which had survived against
incredible odds, began shooting the new lots like so many swallows in a
seasonal pilgrimage. However, the swallows had barbs in their tails, and one
after another the three pinnaces following their primary targets were hit.

"Sowing space mines?" Gill asked rhetorically. Some pods had escaped each of
the pinnaces. "We better get as many survivors as we can."

The brilliantly colored Linyaari ship and the Uhura had had much the same idea
and collected the pods, which attached themselves to their rescuers' hulls
with tractor beams. But that meant the loss of any high-speed maneuvering
capabilities for the rescuers.

"Let's get this lot back to the Haven," Gill said, pointing to the bulk of the
Starfarer ship just visible at the edge of Rushima's primary moon. The small
one that rushed around in orbit beyond the bigger one wouldn't have hidden a
Khieevi parasite.

By the time the AcaSeckl, the Uhuru, and the Linyaari had brought the pods
safely back to the Haven, Captain Andreziana had received orders from
Ikwaskwan to come out of hiding and get the last three ovoid mother ships. The
other six had been accounted for and were destroyed.

"All Khieevi are now on the planet, or about to land. We can move in now -with
kinetic energy weapons and smash them," Ikwaskwan said, his voice vibrant with
triumph. "Pick on our clients, will you, you parasitical, piratical, putrefied
parcels of puking pus-filled perverts. You won't be back in this part of space
again, I can tell you! We'll pick you off like nits from a nanny."

Rafik listened to Ikwaskwan's harangue with the air of one master of the art
of invective listening to another.

"But there are now so many of them down there," Acorna said.

"Thousands." Ikwaskwan grinned. "It could be expensive . . . lucky our clients
are rich."

The Haven, with them on the hangar deck, moved out from behind the moon and,
one by one, turned her big lasers on the ovoid stems that were attempting to
find refuge behind the moon from the dreadnoughts and battle cruisers chasing
them.

Amid the cheers as the last mother ship blew up, Markel said with great
satisfaction and in anticipation of what was to come next-

"Well, it's up to Dr. Hoa now, isn't it?"

He became the center of everyone's attention.

"Well, isn't it?" he asked in a slightly speculative tone.

"Look," Ed Minkus said patiently for perhaps the twentieth time, "we aren't
the invaders you were warned about. There are aliens-real aliens-heading for
Rushima. And they're nasty bastards. They'll torture and kill every last one
of you and turn this planet into a wasteland. We were sent to get you
off-planet before the fighting starts. We're the good guys, damn it!   "Sure,"
One-One said. "Sure you are. That's why you was wreckin' my cabin. You all
seen the damage they done, didn't you, fellers?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, broken only by one dissenting voice
that said he personally had seen One-One do worse than that to the bar at
Grip's Crossing more than once.

One-One frowned the dissenter down. "Caught 'em in the act, din't I? And you
ain't never seen me toss me own good stock of furs in the mud, have you,
Quashie?"

Over the hours while Des and Ed had been held prisoner, there had been a
steady trickle of other settlers who'd remained behind, coming in twos and
threes in response to a message put out by One-One on some incredibly
primitive homemade broadcasting device that seemed to operate on quartz
crystals, wire coils, and curses. The gist of his message seemed to be that
the bastards who'd messed over Rushima's weather had finally made the mistake
of coming down to mess them all over in person; he'd caught two that they
could use for hostages or execute depending on how things went, and everybody
within range should come to his cabin as soon as they could get there, and
bring their weapons.

The motley crowd that now filled the cabin inspired Ed with no very sanguine
hopes as to his and Des's future. There were too many of them, and the cabin's
tiny windows let in too little light, for him to see them all clearly, but he
was nist as glad of that. The faint light from the windows showed lean,
weary-looking men and a few women, dressed in limp rags or stiff, awkwardly
tanned leather. Their skin and clothes were crusted with engrained grime,
their eyes glittered with the dangerous light of people who'd been pushed too
far and isolated too long, and, collectively, they stank of old sweat and
stale liquor. And the weapons they had collected inspired him with no more
confidence. There were a few fairly up-to-date laser pulsers and blasters, but
more common were edged weapons that looked to have been improvised out of
farming equipment and whatever could be found for handles-sharp blades, things
with rows of pointed hooks, a kitchen cleaver. There were even a few ancient
projectile -weapons that looked as if they belonged in a museum.

"Individualists" was in Ed's private opinion an overly polite name for the
Rushimese who'd chosen to settle the backcountry and stay there in the threat
of an invasion by overwhelming forces. Several more appropriate terms came to
his mind, including, "nuts," "wackos," and "psychotic bastards." But he was
careful, considering his company, to keep those opinions strictly private. One
of the first arrivals had been carrying a long rope with which he bound Des
and Ed together, seated back-to-back on the floor. He'd cut off the unused
length of rope and coiled it again. Whenever the settlers discussed what to do
with their prisoners, this man's lean, grimy fingers began stroking the coil
of rope, and Ed watched it with horrified fascination.

From One-One's broadcast and subsequent conversations, Ed and Des had learned
how the land and huts they'd overflown had come to be in such poor condition
and why the settlers were so hostile to strangers now. They'd likely have been
received with suspicion even if they hadn't been caught wrecking the cabin in
search of valuables to loot. Ed had to admit that little fact did rob their
story of some credibility ... but damn it, he was actually telling the truth,
and it was in these people's interest to listen to him; they'd all be in deep
kimchee if they didn't untie him and Des and let them take them off-planet.

Ed kept trying to convince them of that, though with less and less hope of
doing it as the hours wore on. The changing quality of the dim light warned
him that much precious time had already passed . . . how much he didn't know;
One-One had relieved him and Des of their chronometers and other equipment as
soon as someone showed up to hold the blaster on them -while he patted them
down for weapons.

Des was unable to join in the argument for their lives, having exploded in
such bursts of fury and blasphemy when first tied up that One-One had told the
man with the rope to gag him. All Des could do now was rock back and forth and
breathe stertorously through his nose to express his fury and indignation. Ed
decided to make one more try at convincing -with the colonists.

"Look," he said reasonably, "I can understand why you wouldn't trust us on our
unsupported word; you have suffered terribly from strangers. But if you'd just
let me use our ship's corn system, I could bring other people who'd tell you
the same thing."

One-One cackled. "Right, sonny, you could bring some more of your thieving
buddies down on us, couldn't you! Don't waste your breath; I sent somebody to
shut down the corn units hours ago. And there's three guys guardin' the ship,
so don't get no ideas about that bein'your ticket home, neither! Reckon we c'n
use it to ambush yer buddies when they do show up."

"Hours.. . . What time is it?" Ed demanded. "For God's sake, just tell me how
long we've been here already?"

One-One squinted at Des's shiny chronometer, which hung awkwardly off his
skinny wrist.

"Cain't read these little bitty numbers so good as I used to, sonny. What you
reckon it says, Quashie?"

Quashie scowled. "Funny numbers," he said finally. "Don't look like no clock I
ever seen. Change too fast, too. What's that one mean, the one keeps getting
bigger? Look, it was ten awhile ago, now it's up to twenty-five . . .
twenty-six. ..."

Sweat beaded on Ed's forehead and rolled down his face in an agonizingly
tortuous, ticklish path. He tasted the salt on his dry lips.

"Is that number in a little blue square at the bottom right hand of the
chronometer face?"

"Was blue," Quashie said. "Now it's red."

Ed sagged against the ropes that held him more or less upright and closed his
eyes.

"I'm tired of hearing all your arguing," One-One told him. "You shut your trap
now, or we'll shut it for you like we done the other 'un."

"It's okay," Ed said tiredly. "There's no hurry now. We're all dead, we just
don't know it yet."

The chronometer had been set to display the time left before Admiral
Ikwaskwan's deadline for clearing the planet. The changeover from blue to red
meant the time had elapsed and the

chronometer was now measuring the time since the deadline had passed.

Ed didn't know what Ikwaskwan expected to happen now, but he was fairly sure
that the Admiral wouldn't change or delay his plans for the sake of two new
recruits and one shuttle -and it must have been something fairly disastrous he
had in mind; otherwise, their employers wouldn't have been so insistent about
the necessity to evacuate all Rushimese from the planet before the deadline.

As if to corroborate his statement, a distant blast rumbled through the sky.
Several of the Rushimese startled nervously;

two of them blocked the tiny window, trying to peer out of it.

"More of their dirty tricks," one of them said. "Thunderstorm, I reckon. That
could of been a lightning strike on Grip's Crossing. Any more rain, and that
cliff's gonna come down on this-here cabin, One-One."
"Held up all right so far, din't it?" One-One retorted, but his eyes slid
uneasily upward.

"Naah, that ain't lightning," the man called Quashie argued. "More like the
dam upcreek of Grip's busting. I heerd the big one down to the reservoir go.
Sounded just like that there."

Three more booms and a series of sharp cracks canceled the argument. The last
noise was so close to the cabin that Ed shut his eyes and tried to contract
his body, as if that would protect him from aerial attack.

"Hellfire," somebody at the window shouted, "they done got the shuttle!"

"Get my Pyaka outa there!" screamed a gray-faced woman.

"Winjy," said Quashie, putting an arm around her shoulders, "ain't nothing
left to get nobody out of. I'm dreadful sorry, but we be mournin' Pyaka and
them other two fellas. They gone, Winjy."

Now we are really 3ea9, Ed thought, and if he thought he'd known despair
before, he knew the difference now. There'd been no reasonable hope that these
maniacs would untie him and Des and give them a chance to reach the shuttle .
. . but as long as it existed, the hope of escape had been there, the chance
in a million that they would somehow be able to get out of this crazy place
and back to the narrow berth on a Red Bracelet ship which now, in retrospect,
seemed a haven of comfort and safety.

So deep was his despair, he paid no attention to the lowvoiced conversation
going on between One-One, Quashie, and one or two other settlers who seemed to
be leaders of the group. Their words were almost drowned out anyway by the
woman Wmjy's hopeless sobbing and by the blasts and roars of distant battle .
. . not all of them all that distant, either!

Ed leaned against the cabin wall, eyes closed in despair, and ignored his
surroundings until something hard poked him in the ribs, and One-One gruffly
demanded to know what he thought.

"About ·what?" He didn't even bother to open his eyes.

"About settin' you loose, peanut-head, what you think we been talkin' about
here?" A second, harder dig inspired Ed to look at the old guy. "Reckon if
these here invaders wanted to blow up your shuttle, them and you might not be
on the same side after all. And they's ship looks different from yours, too.
Different from anything I ever seen before, truth."

"Christ on a crutch!" somebody yelled. "They Lf aliens! Some kinder giant
bugs!"

Des grunted and thumped from side to side, shaking Ed with each excited
movement. "Mmmp? Mmmb nnn mmmph!" he grunted emphatically.

"'Course, you're still damned looters, and we'll probably still hang you after
we done fought off these here fellas, but if'n you'11 give your parole while
the fight lasts, well . . . reckon we c'n use ever able-bodied person we got
here."

Ed couldn't swear loyalty fast enough.

"Your buddy, too?" One-One regarded Des critically.
"Mmmm-mmmp," Des told him.

"Good enough . . . you ain't got nowhere to run to, anyways. Might wanta keep
that in mind." One-One sliced through Des's gag with a casual swipe of his
sharp tanning knife, then cut the ropes binding both men with two more
slashes.

"Hey," the man with the rope protested, "that's me good rope youwastin'!"

"Ain't got time to fool with knots," One-One said. "Cover the back winder,
willya? "

He handed a blaster to Des and pointed out that he still had the other
blaster, and that there'd be someone watching their backs, in case they had
any cute ideas.   Des shook off the ropes and gag like feathers and charged
for the back end of the cabin as if he'd been doing sitting-up exercises
instead of sitting tied up in a corner for hours. Ed moved more slowly,
feeling the pins and needles of returning circulation in his extremities and
the cramping sensation of muscles protesting their long confinement.

"Pick it up, Ed me boy!" Des shouted. Somebody handed him a wicked-looking
iron pole with a row of sharp points roughly welded to its far end.

"A lot of good that does," Ed protested. "Where's our other blaster?"

One-One grinned and shook his head.' Ain't got enough distance weapons to
waste two on one winder, me boy. Your buddy'11 try an' hold 'em off. Any of
'em gets in close, you use this best way you can, got it?"

When Ed reached Des, his partner was wearing a maniacal grin intensified by
the foam that had flecked his lips while he was gagged and the blood where
One-One's pointed knife had cut his cheek as well as the gag. His chin was
blue -with an incipient beard and, all in all, he looked as desperate and
uncivilized as the worst of the settlers in the cabin.

"Luck of the Smirnoffs, Ed old buddy!" he greeted Ed.

"Luck?" Automatically, Ed took position beside Des, his iron pole at an angle
where he could jab it out the window at anything approaching. "Our ship's been
destroyed, we're trapped on this planet between crazy settlers and invading
space bugs, Ikwaskwan's gonna pound the bugs and doesn't care what he does to
us in the process, and you say we're lucky?"

"If the bugs hadn't moved in," Des said cheerfully, "these maniacs would've
likely hung us. And as for the ship, there's a simple solution now, isn't
there? We'll just have to take theirs!"

"Simple." Ed almost choked.

"No alternative, buddy. Oh-oh, here comes a bug. Let's see if their armor
holds up to a. ..." Des squeezed off a shot. A cloud of steam went up from the
advancing alien's hard brown carapace, and one of its many legs disappeared,
but the other limbs kept inexorably moving. Some of the legs fired green
energy bolts at the cabin.

Des ducked, looked at the weapon in his hand, and swore. "Damn fools gave me
your blaster!"

"What's wrong with that?"
"Got mine fitted with a PowrChargr last station," Des said, naming one of the
many enhancements that was considered illegal and immoral in the civilized
world. This particular one was supposed to allow an ordinary hand blaster to
spread its stun range over half a klick, or alternatively to narrow and
concentrate its power in one needle-sharp pulse that would vaporize the object
it hit.

"Shit!" Des squeezed off half a dozen more shots as the alien advanced, coolly
picking off the jointed legs along one side of its flat body until they were
all gone. The alien toppled to one side and lay wriggling its other legs
helplessly.

"Give me the pole." Des squeezed his bulk through the open window with a few
rips, scratches, and curses, dropped with a thump onto the muddy ground, and
charged without stopping to catch his breath. The hooked pole went into a
bulbous, gleaming structure on the alien's head and sank deep within,
splashing Des with the black fluid that spurted from the sphere. Ed clenched
his teeth against the wave of nausea rising from his guts.

A moment later Des was back at the window, saying, "Come on, get 'em all out
this way. We can't stay in the house, it's an obvious target."

"What's the point of leaving it?"

"Easy," Des said. His teeth gleamed white among the blood, foam, and black
droplets that decorated his face. "We'll lure the bugs into the house, then
fire off a couple of blaster shots and bring that cliff down on 'em . . . it's
not all that stable now, didn't you notice that when we were coming down the
track?"

Ed certainly had. And though he had little or no faith in Smirnoff's plan, he
couldn't think of anything better-so he begged, bullied, or persuaded the
remaining settlers to crawl through the back window and follow Des along the
narrow track he had temporarily cleared.

For one dark moment he wondered exactly how Des planned to "lure" the Khieevi
into the cabin and who was going to play "bait," but One-One Otimie solved
that question once he understood the plan. From an overlooked cupboard above
the food stores he produced battered musicubes and a solar-powered player.

"Kirilatova," he said, jamming a cube into the player -with ruthless
disrespect for the delicate workings of the machinery. "Figaro. Remastered
from the originals." He cackled at the look of surprise on Ed's face. "Thought
we was all uncultured backcountry folks, din't you, sonny? Hee-hee-hee. I like
opera just fine; its people I wanted to get away from."

As they scrambled through the back window, the last two humans to clear the
cabin, the seductive strains of Susannah's aria, "Deh vieni, non tadar,"
floated through the air. Ed only hoped the song would be as enticing to the
Khieevi as it had been meant to sound in the opera.

He was almost disgusted at how well Des's crude plan worked. The cockroachlike
Khieevi approached the cabin, cautiously at first, then more openly as no one
fired on them. They made sharp crackling noises among themselves as they drew
closer, firing occasional bolts into the cabin; Ed could almost have sworn the
two in the lead were laughing and rubbing their forelegs together in
anticipation of a jolly time. He remembered the vids Ikwaskwan had copied from
the Linyaari and used as training films, and felt sick all over at the memory
of what the Khieevi considered light entertainment. He had a terrible moment
as he worried that everybody was out of the cabin. He couldn't have left a dog
to the mercies of those-those things. . . .

Every muscle of his body screamed to run, run now before they noticed their
quarry had escaped, but Des coolly waited through agonizing seconds until all
but one of the advancing aliens was out of sight inside the cabin. Then he and
One-One fired blasters at the designated weak spots, dissolving a long line of
muddy earth and stone into a bubbling liquid that let the front face of the
cliff slide downward with a long, final sigh. Slabs of stone tilted slowly
forward and smashed the cabin roof flat; one of them fell half across the one
Khieev who remained outside, turning his body into a mangled mess that leaked
black fluid and curls of steam. The stone slabs were followed by a slow but
inexorable tide of wet dirt and the molten lava created by the blasters, which
buried the cabin and its occupants under a newly created hill.

"Come on," Des hissed before the wave of mud and lava had settled, "gotta take
their ship before they catch on to what just happened!"

"Before who catch on?" gasped Ed, at his side. "We just killed-oh." More
cockroaches were pouring out of the squat, alien-looking ship that stood in
the clearing.

"You are so damn dumb, Minkus. Would you leave a ship totally unguarded while
everybody chased the natives?" Des gave him a look of disgust. "Yeah, you
probably would. Give me that pole, you don't know what to do -with it." And he
plunged in among the Khieevi with a battle yell of pure, savage joy, stabbing
the pole down with unerring aim into the enemies' soft spots.

Someone thrust a cleaver into Ed's hand, and the wave of yelling settlers
carried him on until he found himself in the thick of the fight, chopping off
legs with his cleaver, dodging the energy bolts, frantically waving his free
arm to defend himself from the gouts of black acid the aliens spat . . . and
then, before he knew it, they were through and on the farside of the aliens,
and Des was shouting at them to follow him into the ship itself. Ed stepped
over blobs of black guck, already crusting over, and kicked a dying Khieev off
the ladder with one booted foot.

There were no more Khieev inside ... no more living, that is ... though the
stench of their dying and the acid whiff of their black . . . blood? . . .
whatever . . . infested the entire ship. The settlers crowding after Ed forced
him forward and into the tiny section covered with unreadable instrumentation
that Des already occupied. He was squatting on the low, narrow bench that the
Khieevi must have used instead of chairs.

After a moment's uncomfortable experimentation, Ed decided that Smirnoff had
found the only possible adaptation of the human anatomy to these furnishings.
Wide metal columns behind them, their outer walls curved in a concave form
that must have been designed to fit a Khieev carapace, promised support and
protection during takeoff, and the straps that dangled from the columns could,
with some ingenuity, be arranged to hold a human body. Ed hoped the settlers
had made their own accommodations to the Khieev interior; Des was already
punching buttons with mad abandon in search of the one that would fire up the
ship's engines.

"You think you can fly one of these things?" he asked doubtfully.

"Can't be all that different from ours," Des said. "Same problems, same type
solutions. They gotta get free of gravity, navigate, correct position, and
tilt. . . Yeeehaw!" he screamed in triumph as one of the buttons he'd punched
resulted in a ·wild blast of flame that lifted the ship from its landing place
with a sickening double punch and sway. "Ikwaskwan, here we come! See if you
can find a portable corn system among all that crud the settlers dragged on,
Ed. It might be polite to announce we're on our way!"


Haven, Unified Federation Date334.05.26

With the Khieevi mother ships disabled and their pods pinned down on Rushima
by the orbiting ships of the Red Bracelets, there was time to discuss Markel's
suggestion of using weathermodification technology to destroy the Khieevi
rather than the expensive, and destructive, kinetic energy weapons favored by
Ikwaskwan.

"I had intended this system for peace, not war," said Ngaen Xong Hoa sadly.
"But it seems that technology of this sort must be used always for
destruction-if not by the warring parties of my homeland, then by whoever
controls it." He gave Markel a long, steady look. "I trusted your father's
honor. He died rather than permit Nueva Fallona and her cronies to make war on
Rushima with my weather-modification system. Now you ask me to do the same
thing."

"Not on Rushima, on the Khieevi - " began Gill. "Wait!" Markel swallowed hard
after interrupting Gill, but his face showed a maturity and resolution that
had not been there short weeks earlier. "Yes, Dr. Hoa. We wish to use your
scientific knowledge to kill... those who would otherwise ... exterminate us.
So we would be using it in self-defense, which is not the same thing as using
it for making war on the helpless... . You know what the Linyaari have told us
about these invaders. If they had come in peace, we would have greeted them in
peace . . . but they come to destroy us. And, yes, I will use any means at my
disposal to defend my people and myself. I believe Illart would have done the
same thing."

"We do not know they have come to make war," Hoa said. "Actions speak louder
than words," Rafik pointed out. "Ah. But words have not spoken yet." Hoa
clasped his hands together in front of him. "Before I give consent to this
further misuse of my research, I must insist that we make every effort to
communicate with our alien visitors."

"Markel? Is this necessary?" Andreziana glanced at Markel and raised one
eyebrow.

"Yes," Markel said in the most decisive tone. He paused and gave an indolent
shrug more like his usual mannerisms. "Anyway, I could probably deploy the
weather-intervention technology without Dr. Hoa's consent. Just as Nueva
Fallona did! By analyzing the programs Nueva's people implemented we could
deduce those things that were left out of the research notes." He paused, and
all his aggression seemed to dissipate suddenly. He swallowed again. "But... I
believe . . . Illart would also have said we must first attempt peaceful
negotiation."

"Ridiculous!" Andreziana was on her feet. "Market, as captain of the Haven, I
could order you to implement the technology now.

"But you will not," said Pal Kendoro sharply. Pal was so quiet that all were
startled at this interruption and watched as he came forward to grip
Andreziana's arms at the elbows, forcing her to look up at him. "'Ziana, don't
you know better than to give orders that Market will feel honor-bound to
disobey? You and the other kids did a grand job of recapturing the Haven.
You're a bunch of infant experts at everything from astrogation to
life-support systems, but you've still got a few things to learn about people
. . . and the art of command."
"I know what we need to do in order to deal with the Khieevi," Andreziana
snapped, freeing herself from Pals grip with a quick, vicious twist of her
body. "Unlike some around here, I'm not afraid to take responsibility for
it-any more than I was afraid to space the murderers who killed my mother and
father!"

"And you're still feeling bad about that, aren't you?" Pal said in a low,
gentle voice. "They were murderers, and you had no other option, but you see
their faces in your nightmares . . . and so to prove you made the right choice
then, you have to keep choosing the toughest path, "whether or not it's
necessary."

Tears sparkled in Andreziana's eyes, and she stared up at him wordlessly.

"You don't have to do that now, 'Ziana," Pal said. "This responsibility
belongs to all of us; you don't have to carry it alone. Whatever we do, we'll
all discuss it, and we'll all share in the decision. You and the other kids
did a fine job when you were left on your own, but the point is, that you're
no longer alone anymore. We're in this battle, fighting right beside you."

Andreziana's lips trembled, and Pal put his arm about her, shielding her face
from the view of the others for a long, tense moment. When Andreziana finally
turned away from him, she looked composed, more at peace than she had since
the Palomellese coup on the Haven.

"I'm sony, Markel," she said. "Understand," she warned him, "I'm still captain
of the Haven . . . but this can't be just the captain's decision. This
decision belongs to all of humanity ... all who are here to speak, at least .
. . and to the Linyaari, too," she said. "Shouldn't they be here? And the Red
Bracelets - "

"Let's not overdo it," Johnny murmured. "I think we know how the Red Bracelets
would vote. Besides, they're needed where they are ... in low geosynchronous
orbit, making sure the Khieevi don't go anywhere."

"And we cannot afford to keep them there indefinitely," Gill pointed out.

After more discussion, it was agreed that the Haven and the AcaSeckl would
attempt for a period of two Standard hours to establish some communication
with the Khieevi on Rushima, using the universal codes that had long been
agreed on for first contact with any sapient alien race, should one ever be
found. Therefore, mathematical formulae and physical constants were broadcast
in steady sequence, using different base systems and with regular pauses to
invite reply.

"No response," Calum said wearily after more than an hour had gone by.
"Perhaps we should try something else."

"We could shoot at them," Gill muttered. "That sure got a response!"

"No, not-waitammute, wait a minute!" Calum punched at the control panel to
bring up an enlarged view on one screen. "Something's leaving the planet-and
heading straight for us. Corns, tell Ikwaskwan not to shoot it down!"

"Trojan horse," Gill suggested, while Acorna efficiently raised Ikwaskwan's
flagship and requested the lone vessel be allowed to exit Rushima unhindered.

"He's not heading straight for anywhere," Calum exclaimed. "Look at
that-yawing all over the place . . . don't these people know how to stabilize
their ships?"

"They did just fine in the battle," Gill pointed out. "Maybe this one is
damaged." His fingers twitched, indicating his complete willingness to do more
damage.

"Acorna, are you open on all frequencies?"

"Of course, Calum," Acorna said. "Intruder is not transmitting."

"If they don't correct their course and identify themselves somehow in the
next sixty seconds," Calum said tensely, "rescind the hold-fire request and
give Ikwaskwan permission to destroy them. They're now, more or less, on a
collision course with US. I'm sorry about Dr. Hoa's sensibilities, but not
sorry enough to die while waiting for the other fellows to parley. The
Linyaari said they don't parley, and it looks like ..."

Fortunately for two newly hired mercenaries and a group of weary Rushimese
settlers, at that moment Ed Minkus found a portable corn system.

"Don't fire! Don't fire!" he squawked first, and then, regaining a little
control, "All Red Bracelet ships and allies: this is Ed Minkus for the ship
... uh ... what is it called, Des?"

A rumbling growl seemed to be telling the speaker not to waste time on
nonessentials. "Call it Jurden, it smells like one!"

"Right! Uh . . . this is the ship Jurden, a prize of war captured from the
Khieevi, requesting permission to rejoin . . . and, uh, could somebody tow us
in with a tractor beam? We're having a little trouble figuring out the
controls on this thing."

"Jurden, this is the Haven," came a crisp young voice on the frequency Ed had
found. "We have a fix on you now. Can you verify this is not a Khieevi trap?"

"Dammit, we just got away from the Khieevi . . . wait a minute!" There were
scuffling sounds and Ed's voice muffled by distance, protesting; then a
crackly old voice came on.

"Girlie, this here's One-One Otimie, free settler of Rushima, and you bring us
on board right fast, you hear me? Got things to tell you about them big ol'
bugs like you wouldn't believe! And I ain't goin' back there, no how, no way,
so if you think us is bugs, you just go right ahead and blow us out of the
sky, you hear? Rather that than goin' back, right, folks?"

"Jurden, prepare to be towed," Andreziana's voice responded.

The exchange was shut off as Haven's tractor beam attached itself to the
Khieevi ship. Gill and Calum leaned back, laughing weakly, while the others
exchanged puzzled glances.

"What's so funny?" Acorna finally asked.

"Smirnoff. The bastard can't be all bad," Gill said. "He must have some Celtic
ancestors somewhere."

"I fail to see that as a guarantee of respectability-look at you two giggling
idiots!" Rafik said, crisply critical.

"Jurden," Calum calmed himself long enough to explain, "is an old Scots word
for a chamber pot. So I guess we know Smirnoff's opinion of the Khieevi!"

And once Smirnoff and Minkus and One-One had described how the Khieevi came in
firing and attacked immediately, even Hoa regretfully agreed that the Linyaari
account of their enemies seemed to be completely accurate.

"Talk is better," Hoa said ruefully, "but some warlords do not talk, only
kill. Markel, you will assist, please?"

The weather-intervention process fascinated Calum, who was watching every
detail of Hoa's work. There was plenty of time for all interested observers to
assemble because Hoa insisted that the Red Bracelet ships must clear out of
their low orbit.   "Ionospheric intervention of this magnitude can affect
orbiting ships' communications and electrical systems," Hoa explained. "Haven
must maintain a certain distance in order to fire laser beams, but all others
should retreat as far as possible."

While the Kilumbembese ships -were moving to a safe distance, Hoa studied
real-time displays of Rushima's atmosphere and terrain and hummed softly to
himself.

"Mmm, mmm, good unstable cloud masses here, yes, much instability in the
troposphere, electrical potential building up ... a little nudge here. . . .
We begin with lightning," he said, "using ship's amplifiers to simulate action
of hybrid Oscillator/ Regenerative Amplifier -which I used in scientific
studies. Spaceships, being tall and metal, should attract lightning before any
other objects on ground. Communications and electrical systems -will be
destroyed."

"Get on with it, can't you?" Calum murmured under his breath. "Pulling back
the Red Bracelets may have been necessary for their safety, but it's got to
look to the Khieevi like we're retreating. They'll see if they can escape.
They know they're trapped on the surface."

Hoa's fingers played over the console pad before him, and he snapped requests
to Market for confirmation of the numbers he produced.

"Hurry!" Andreziana said from her own seat. "I'm seeing hot spots, probably
ships igniting their engines. ..."

"Now," Hoa said, and the screen in front of Andreziana went wild with a
display of crackling lights.

"What was that?" she gasped.

"Series of short pulses cause electron migration, propagation, collisions,
avalanche ionization," Hoa said. "Conduction path will be formed wherever
possible. Lasers would provide more focused strikes, but in absence of
information about location of ships, general ionization is best bet."

Three Khieevi ships had launched off-planet during the lightning storm, but
two of them behaved so erratically as to make Des Smirnoff's approach in the
Jurden appear a marvel of accurate navigation. After a series of staggering
loops, one failed to escape Rushima's gravity and fell back toward the planet;
the other one transmuted into a searing burst of light that left only
fragments. The third ship darted through a space just recently vacated by the
Red Bracelet fleet and escaped Rushima, but not to attack, only to flee. One
of Ikwaskwan's warships swung out of line and followed.

"How did you make that second one explode?" Calum demanded, awed.
Dr. Hoa shrugged slightly. "Impossible to predict what goes first when
electrical systems are destroyed. Steering, power . . . in this one, I think
fuel controls. It is not at all an accurate action," he said with disapproval.
"Is not science; science deals with predictable results. Now you will see!
Markel, bring up titanium-sapphire lasers, please."

"Aren't -we too far away for laser warfare?" Calum asked. "The beam will
spread until it's so weak ..."

"Sufficiently intense light pulses are trapped in three dimensions," Hoa
replied without looking up. "Self-compensating nonlinear effects. End result,
dispersion, diffraction, and scattering are balanced by self-stabilizing
processes. I cannot prove how it happens," he said, "only demonstrate results
of focused high-intensity laser strikes on appropriate cloud material. Laser
forms a tunnel of ions, which attracts lightning. . . . My intent," he said
sadly, "was to use such tunnels to draw lightning away from structures, which
needed protection. Instead ..." He twiddled with controls and adjusted the
focus of the laser with infinite precision. "Instead," he repeated, as
lightning arced through Rushima's atmosphere, "I now direct it at structures.
..."

"Which need destroying," Calum reminded him gently.

Ikwaskwan's corn technician reported that the Khieevi ship had escaped; having
so little mass, it had been able to reach lightspeed long before the heavier
battleship, and they had been unable to catch it within the limits Ikwaskwan
had set for his fleet's range.

"Quite right, too," Calum agreed. "They'd do themselves and us no good by
following one Khieevi ship until their fuel was exhausted. Still, I'd like to
know where they come from. ..."

"Several ships have been captured," Market reminded him, "and we have the
virtually intact pod that Smirnoff and Minkus escaped in. We can study their
computers and charts. ..."

"And maybe Dr. Zip can help analyze the metals," Calum said, remembering how
that eccentric astrophysicist had applied the latest upsilon-V imaging
techniques to provide Calum with a basis for working out where Acorna's home
world probably lay. That world was long since laid waste by the Khieevi, and
the Linyaari envoys could provide them with the location of the new home,
narhii-Vhiliinyar; but there still might be a use for his computational and
astroplotting program, to help locate the home base of the Khieevi. That
possibility cheered him immeasurably, and while Dr. Hoa pounded Rushima with
storms and floods to destroy any remaining Khieevi, he began jotting notes for
an amended version of the program.

When Dr. Hoa patently began to tire Calum and Markel both vied to take over
from him. Calum was chosen but, when Dr. Hoa saw Markel's sullen expression,
he put his hand under the boy's chin and forced him to meet his gaze.

"There will be time for you, too. Watch and be ready to take your turn. You
are well able when all is said and done."

Johnny Greene leaped forward to help the exhausted man who, at first, waved
off the need for assistance until he stumbled at the steps leading up to the
main level of the bridge.

"Come." Andreziana was beside the doctor, firmly taking his hand. "You may
rest in the captain s ready room," she said, indicating the door that gave
onto the bridge.

"Your ready room, my dear, your ready room," Dr. Hoa said, smiling as he
patted her arm but quite willing to let her escort him. That accomplished,
Andreziana returned to her command chair with just the slightest of smirks at
having been more effec- tive than Johnny Greene. And Pal moved just that much
closer to her chair, subtly informing the older man that his efforts were
redundant.

Johnny turned away, with a broad grin that Acorna and Rafik noticed: Acorna
with considerably more sympathy and relief than Rafik.

That would certainly solve a problem for her. The -way Pal had all but
challenged Thariinye disturbed her even if she did see it as only the usual
posturing of males for a desired female. The incident had also taken away from
Acorna's eyes the scales of infatuation over her first encounter with a male
of her own species.

However, she too -was tired and wanted to retire as discreetly as she could to
the AcaSecki., now once again on the Haven's hangar deck.

So, too, was the Linyaari ship, and, as she passed it, Neeva called out to
her.

"Join us, my sister-child," and then added as Acorna switched her direction,
(You cannot know how rewarding it is to see the Khieevi overwhelmed as they
have overwhelmed us for centuries. To know that we, we four, have been witness
to their rout.)

(I don't feel much like cheering, I'm afraid) Acorna said truthfully.

Neeva pressed her horn against Acorna's. The scene of Acorna's dream
reappeared. (This is what they destroyed for you. But it is good to see that
you are more linyani than khievn in the matter of dealing death. This is
indeed a novel way of defeating one's enemy.)

(IF you can get them to land on a planet) Acorna said.

Neeva nuzzled Acorna. (You are heartsick, my sister-child, and it is because
we are not what you thought we should be. Is that not correct?)

Acorna gasped. She hadn't realized just how deeply Neeva could delve. (I mean
no offense, truly. It's just that you . . . )

(Are what our world and genetics have made us, just as these humans are the
product of their worlds and genes.) It was Melireenya whose deep voice chimed
into their conversation. She appeared in the open hatch of the brilliantly
decorated ship. (You wish to know HOW do we manage to keep the paint so
bright? Ah, that is one of our secrets. Come. Come. Lei us relieve your
anxieties and confusions, dear 'Khornya.)

Acorna was mind-weary enough to wish surcease and entered the Linyaari vessel.
Thariinye was not in evidence.

(You must have just passed him on the way to the Haven's bridge,) Neeva said.
(He wishes to know more about this most unusual and spectacular method of
dealing with the Khieevi.)

(Huh,) Khaan said 'with a nasal snort of disagreement, (he enjoys seeing the
ships blown up and was counting them. "That is for the Selinaaryi." "The next
kill will be for the Juveniiryi.")

(Who?) asked Acorna, confused, though she did realize that these were family
names.

(Ancestors and friends who were lost to the Khieevi over the centuries,)
Khaari answered.

(Will there be ships enough to satisfy that lust in Thariinye?) Neeva asked
ruefully.

She led Acorna to a pile of cushions and settled her in their comfort. Then
she began to knead the muscles of Acorna's neck, and "work her fingers up and
down the length of the mane, into the vertebrae themselves. More often than
not, Acorna winced at the pain as Neeva touched places which Acorna hadn't
even known were sore.

(When we bring you home) and there was a subtle triumph in Neeva's use of the
word, (we shall introduce you to the ways whereby we dissipate tension and
fatigue. This ship was not large enough to contain the unit, which is why we
do not appear at our best to you. We, too, have suffered from the stress of
reaching your quadrant of space soon enough to give you warning.)

(We are not always as contentious as we have been these past few weeks,)
Melireenya said sorrowfully. Then her silvery eyes brightened. (What glad
tidings we bring, along with one we thought lost and gone to us.)

(Do I have many relations?) Acorna asked, though she already knew that she had
been the only youngling born to her parents.

Neeva's silvery neigh filled the room. (Hundreds! But we shall not require you
to meet them all at once.)

(I will want you to meet a few) - Khaari smiled, her eyes sparkling-(a chosen
few of mine.)

Melireenya gave Khaari an affectionate shove. (I am the elder. I shall have
the first chance.)

(Chance for what?) The inferences were beyond Acorna, though she sensed them
in the subtle nuances of the interchange.

(Why, to introduce you to a suitable mate, of course) Neeva said, as if that
should have been obvious. (You are well old enough to need a mate. In fact, I
marvel that you have been able to contain yourself.)

(She has had no one to stimulate that part of her nature yet) Melireenya said.
(Or have you experienced . . . well, unusual sensations at all?) She turned to
the other two females. (It can happen, you know, for someone isolated as she
has been.)

(I ... well)-Acorna bowed her head in confusion-(there have been moments . . .
)

(Not for much longer, sister-child,) Neeva assured her, and continued to
massage her neck.

(It will have to be for a while longer,) Acorna said regretfully.
(WHY?) all three Linyaari demanded, shocked.

"Well, there are things I must attend to at Maganos. ..."

(Nothing that Rafik fellow cannot handle) remarked Melireenya firmly. (We are
YOUR people. You must first come with us. Then, if there are any problems that
you must indeed deal with yourself, we can return with you.)

Khaari's neigh was closer to a snicker. (And with your life partner.)

(WILL one find me suitable? I've lived so long. . . .) Acorna stopped because
even Melireenya was convulsed in Linyaarish laughter.

(Wait and see, 'Khornya. Wait and see.) Then the other two made excuses of
tasks to be done and Neeva altered the rhythm of her gentle kneading, and,
before Acorna could help herself, she was dozing off.

It was dawn on the Haven before anyone came looking for her. Calum had finally
deferred to Markel and gone back to the Aca<)ecki, falling asleep the moment
he lay down. He never thought that Acorna would be anywhere but in her own
quarters. So, when Gill and Rafik came looking for her, and him, to announce
the arrival of Uncle Hafiz, with his voluptuous and veil-swathed Karina, they
were startled and dismayed to find her missing.

"She is here, close by," Karina said through her veil. It wasn't a very thick
gauze, Calum noticed: much more transparent than the silks he'd once been
dressed in for Uncle Hafiz s benefit. It allowed someone to get a glimpse of a
rather attractive face, if much too plump for Cal's taste.

Now Karina gracefully placed her much beringed hand on her forehead.

"Very close." She slowly turned and looked at the Linyaari vessel. "There in
fact. And oh, they're all there. And fast asleep."

"Uncle," Rank said in an undertone, "since when have you followed the outmoded
and barbarous custom of veiling your women?" Only a few years earlier Hafiz
had been shocked and dismayed to find Rafik apparently converted to the
Neo-Hadithians and reverting to the strictures practiced by those who denied
the Second and Third Prophets, keeping women veiled and refusing spirituous
liquors. He had professed great relief to discover that Rank's apparent
conversion to a fundamentalist sect had been only a clever business trick-even
if he had been its victim.

"Since I acquired this pearl without price, my lovely Karina," Hafiz replied
in the same discreet undertone.

"Acquired? Uncle, the last time I looked, slavery was forbidden by the laws of
all known states and federations. Even on Laboue, I do not think you can
legally own a concubine!"

Hafiz put on a disapproving expression. "Nephew, I might take offense did I
not love you so dearly. Karina is my beloved and dearly cherished wife in the
sight of the Three Prophets. We have sworn our vows upon the Three Books."

Rafik's mouth dropped open. "You've married that . . . that pseudopsychic
charlatan?"

"Dear boy," his uncle said in a-warning tone that held more than a hint of
steel, "you are speaking of your new aunt. It is a shame to all discerning men
that such a flower of beauty should have been forced to work for a living
instead of reclining upon silken cushions and being fed on marzipan and cream
cakes. Her previous lifestyle," he said grandiloquently, "is unimportant to
me; the cherished gazelle of Hafiz Harakamian need never lift a finger again."

Rafik reflected that if his uncle really intended to feed his new acquisition
upon marzipan and cream cakes, she might well be incapable of lifting a finger
in a few years. Even now, "gazelle" was hardly the word that came to mind when
describing her.

"Is she not voluptuously beautiful beyond your wildest dreams?" his uncle
sighed rapturously. "Even my Yasmin could hardly have compared with Karina."

Mention of Hafiz s first wife, the long-dead Yasmin, reminded Rafik that his
uncle had already shown a definite predilection for women whose most prominent
attributes lay somewhere south of their brains. Yasmin had been a dancer in a
zero-G topless bar when Hafiz abducted her.

"Karina, my little lily," Hafiz said to his new wife, "pray do not exhaust
yourself in using your powers to contact the Linyaari. They will awaken soon
enough of their own accord, and I would not see your lovely face lined -with
fatigue. Sit here and rest yourself, and I will see to it that some light
refreshment is brought to restore your psychic energies."

Karina smiled up into his face with a look of such radiant love and trust that
Rank's last objections to the marriage melted like snow on Laboue, and he was
devoutly thankful that the words "gold digger" had not passed his lips. No one
looking at the pair could doubt that they were truly infatuated with one
another. Still, when he remembered his uncle's cynical strictures on the
subject of women and marriage, he could not but be amused to see Hafiz, of all
people, swept away on a tide of sugary-sweet romance.

"What are you laughing about?" Calum inquired out of the side of his mouth
after Rafik had greeted Karina with all the respect due to his uncle's wife
and retired to the farside of the Haven's main cabin to release his amusement.

"Hafiz," Rafik said. "To see him billing and cooing with that.. . I mean, with
my beloved aunt. . . and if you had ever heard the Old Earth poets he used to
quote on women and marriage! He used to compare marrying to buying a horse."
And he recited four lines of Hafiz's favorite poet's from memory:

If it be pleasant to look at, <f tailed In the packed ^erai, Doe<f not the
young man try ltd temper anS pace ere he bay7 If She be pleasant to look on,
what ^oe^ the young man .say7 'Lol She if pleasant to look on. Give her to me
tooayl

"And if she produces a son to cut you out of your inheritance?"   "Is it not
written in the Book of the Third Prophet, 'Count not the light from a distant
star among your assets, for that star may have been long dead by the time its
light reaches thine eyes'? I have not been such a fool as to count on stepping
into the shoes of a healthy man with many years to live, Calum. While trading
for Uncle Hafiz I have built up quite a respectable line of credit on my own
account. . . which, come to think of it, he may need to borrow against." Rafik
raised his voice. "Tell me. Uncle, how stands the credit of House Harakamian
after these disasters?"

Hafiz interrupted a low-voiced colloquy of his own with Admiral Ikwaskwan and
Johnny Greene. "What disasters, my beloved nephew?"

"Well . . . the interruption to your trade . . . and, ah, paying the . . ."
Rafik stammered. He had been so flabbergasted by the introduction of Karma as
his uncle's wife that he had not even noticed Admiral Ikwaskwan s arrival, and
now he had to hastily suppress the comments that had risen to his lips about
rapacious mercenaries.

Hafiz gave the broad, closed-lip smile that many competitors had learned to
dread. It usually meant he had just swallowed their pet canary.

"I confess there were some minor difficulties initially," he said pleasantly.
"In fact, Delszaki Li and I were forced to combine our businesses in order to
command enough liquid credits for the initial great expenses. But -with the
advantage of House Li's trading contacts and capital added to my own superior
communications system, I am happy to say that House HarakamianLi now commands
an even greater share of the galactic market than before . . . and from what
Mr. Greene here tells me of the technology to be discovered in the captured
Khieevi ships, we expect to recoup our initial losses quite quickly. There is
also," he said thoughtfully," the small matter of trade agreements with the
Linyaari. Now that Delszaki and I are no longer in competition, that should
also be resolved quite profitably."

"House Harakamian-Li?" Calum repeated, stunned.

"What's the matter -with that?" Gill demanded. "Sounds like a good idea to
me."   Calum groaned. "Gill, you have no business sense whatever. With those
two . . . rapacious old pirates . . . working together . . . and about to reap
obscene profits off their contacts with the first two space-faring alien races
we've ever encountered ... well, let's just say they make the Khieevi look
like a minor threat to civilization!"

Admiral Ikwaskwan cleared his throat. "As to the matter of profits," he
reminded them, "a half share in the Khieevi captures belongs to the Red
Bracelets."

"One-third," Hafiz said quickly.

Ikwaskwan hooked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back and forth slightly on
the balls of his feet. "The agreement was that all parties to the contract
should share equally in the spoils of war. Since Harakamian and Li are now one
House, clearly they constitute only one contracting party and should share
half and half with the other party - me."

"One-third," Nadhari Kando said from behind Hafiz and Greene. "You were
content with that originally. Play fair, Ikki!"

Ikwaskwan's bony face looked even sharper and more angular at sight of
Nadhari. "But..."

"E'kosi Tahka'yaw," Nadhari said, sounding relaxed, as if she were saying a
private mantra to the ceiling. "M'on Na'ntaw. And, of course, Skomitin. You
haven't forgotten Skomitin, have you, Ikki?"

"Skomitin's dead," Ikwaskwan said quickly.

Nadhari gave him a sweet smile. "But I'm not . . . am I, Ikki? " Her light
rocking movement mirrored Ikwaskwan's own, but she seemed considerably more
relaxed; one hand was on the back of her head, the other in a pocket of her
dark, close-fitting coveralls. Calum remembered that Nadhari was said to keep
poison darts in those tight black braids that coiled around her head.

Ikwaskwan moistened his lips. "You seem in the best of health ... as I am. I
trust we all expect to stay that way! Onethird, then," he said more loudly,
turning back to Hafiz, "as was agreed in the original contract. God forbid I
should seek to defraud my honored clients! The Red Bracelets' reputation for
probity and fair dealing is known throughout the galaxy.   "He didn't say what
it was known as," Calum muttered in Rafik's ear.

"Can't use the appropriate language in front of the ladies," Rafik responded,
equally sotto voce.

What exactly constituted a fair one-third share of the captured ships required
quite a lot more haggling, as neither Ikwaskwan nor Hafiz wished to allow the
other party to conduct a detailed survey of exactly what had been captured
before the spoils were divided. By the time they had agreed on how to share
out the loot, another complication had arisen. Des Smirnoff and Ed Minkus,
rested and recovered from their ordeal on Rushima, put in their own claim for
credit to the salvaged pod known as the Jurden.

Ikwaskwan listened to their claim without speaking, while his dark eyes slowly
looked over the two very junior Red Bracelets from head to foot and back
again. "What recruiting officer took these in?" he demanded eventually. "If I
had known any of my officers thought us so desperate for warm bodies ..."

"Hey," Des interrupted, "you're looking at experienced men. Trained with
Kezdet Guardians of the Peace, y'know." He puffed his chest out and threw his
shoulders back, looking as tough and military as he could manage.

"Tchah! Howotiawak, thsi6w6tiya"the!" Ikwaskwan dismissed the claim with a
phrase in his own language that made Nadhan laugh aloud. "Bumbling
incompetents who allowed themselves to be captured by the dirt farmers - I
have heard all I need of these. It's not the looting I object to, you
understand," he explained to Hafiz, "it's the incompetence. My Red Bracelets
would be the laughingstock of the galaxy were it known that I had taken in
such gutter-sweepings as these. I dare not even dismiss them." He sighed. "I
cannot afford to let them loose with the claim that they were once, however
briefly, officers of my force. There is only one solution." A hand twitching
toward the blaster on his hip made it quite clear what he thought that
solution was.

"Quite so," Hafiz agreed. "Clearly they must be properly trained up to the
standard of your forces. You do have something corresponding to the regular
army's basic training, do you not?"

Ikwaskwan s lips twitched as he took in the proposition. "On Kilumbemba . . .
we have, indeed. It is, of course, mostly geared to the young and exceedingly
fit; admission tests for the lower ranks are stringent. But I think these two
should be able to survive it," he said in a casual tone that revealed his
disinterest in the outcome. "Smirnoff! Minkus! Give me your bracelets; you are
reduced to the ranks and ordered to Kilumbemba for training."

Ed stripped off the single red bangle that was his badge of rank without a
word, but Des was foolish enough to push his luck. "And the credit for our
capture?"

"Ahhh," Ikwaskwan breathed. His head moved like that of a serpent about to
strike. "As it was told to me, the Jurden was helplessly out of control when
Haven took her under tow. By the laws of space salvage, she is Haven's prize,
no? Now, you two- to the shuttle, march! You will consider yourselves under
arrest until you can be delivered to the brig aboard one of the battle
cruisers." He lifted his wrist corn and delivered a series of short, sharp
instructions in his native tongue which presumably alerted the shuttle crew to
the imminent arrival of two disgraced exofficers.
Once Smirnoff and Minkus had shambled off, Ikwaskwan turned to Nadhari.
"Nadhi. It has been, as you say, a long time. I believe some of our new
armaments may be of interest to you."

"I have a duty here," Nadhari said. She sounded almost regretful.

"Go, go," Hafiz said with a beneficent smile on his face. "Acorna is in the
care of her people now. You have earned some time off." Especially considering
that she had just increased the profits of House Harakamian-Li by one-sixth.

Nadhari looked thoughtfully at Ikwaskwan. "You do understand that should I
fail to return within ... let us say two hours Standard . . . your shuttle
would not be permitted to depart?"

"And you," Ikwaskwan returned, "understand that the security precautions put
in place by my predecessor for safeguarding the person of the Admiral have
been not only retained but improved? My staff officers would die to avenge any
harm to me."

Nadhari shrugged. "With the primitive tactics you employ, Ikki, they will
likely die soon enough anyway." But she put one hand on his arm and sauntered
off toward the docking bay-where the shuttle rested.

"Well," breathed Calum, staring at the two retreating short, slight figures
with their air of coiled menace, "seems like romance is bustin' out all over!"

Rafik glanced at the corner where Pal was holding Andreziana's hands and
talking earnestly. "It does indeed."

"Come up and see my battle lasers some time," Gill said, in a voice trembling
with suppressed laughter. "I don't know, I've never tried that line. ..."

"And you never will," said Judit firmly, tucking her arm through his. "Didn't
you have a proposition to put to Johnny, Gill?"

Johnny Greene was tempted by Gill's suggestion that he return to Maganos to
help with the development of the mining base's third stage, but shook his head
regretfully. "I can't leave these kids to run the Haven all by themselves."

"Looks to me as if they won't be completely on their own." Rafik jerked his
head toward Pal and Andreziana.

"Still . . . it's bad enough they've lost their parents and their home. ..."
Johnny said, incautiously loud.

Markel, never far from Johnnys elbow, overheard this. "What do you mean, we've
lost our home? Haven's in perfectly good shape ... at least she will be, once
we make the repairs which we should be well able to pay for, now that Dr. Hoa
has agreed to stay on with us. We should be able to earn more than enough to
maintain the ship by selling his weather-modification services to ag planets
... honestly," he added, "not as a protection racket!"

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "You can keep the Haven, yes. But Esperantza..."

"Was dear to our fathers," Markel *said, "and we weren't about to hurt their
feelings by telling them it was a dream we didn't share. Hey, 'Ziana," he
yelled, breaking into her tete-a-tete with Pal, "you want to live dirtside?"

"No way!" Andreziana shook her head so vigorously that golden ringlets bounced
around her face like scraps of a broken halo. "Give up being captain of the
Haven just to get worn-out fighting atmospheric weather and planetside
gravity? You gotta be kidding!"

"You can take a poll if you like, Johnny," Markel offered, "but I think you'11
find the rest of us feel the same way."

"And between Dr. Hoa and Pal," Rafik pointed out, "they will hardly be without
adult guidance. Trust the kids, Johnny. They know what they want, and they can
be fairly ruthless about getting it."

He withdrew to a reasonably private corner with Gill, Judit, and Calum. "Looks
like everything is getting settled," he said glumly.

"Yeah," Gill said with equal lack of enthusiasm.

"There's really no excuse ..." Calum began.

". . . to keep Acorna here with us," Judit finished, tears sparkling in her
eyes. "She needs her own people."

"Do not grieve," Karina advised them, a lofty smile on her round face. "She
will not leave you . . . not for long. I can sense her presence with us now."

"Of course you can!" Gill snorted rudely, "you know damn well she's on the
Baiakare, sleeping."

"Not anymore," Karina said smugly, and on her last word, the Linyaari
delegation came in, Acorna glowing -with light and happiness.

"I must say farewell to Mr. Li before we leave for narhiiVhiliinyar," she -was
telling Melireenya, quite firmly. "Even if the return to Maganos does delay
you . . .us."

"Then you have decided to leave us," Gill said heavily. "Well, it's the right
thing for you, Acorna acushia, and we all wish you ..." His voice trembled
with suppressed sobs, and he could not go on to save his life.

"I must go back with Neeva and Khaari, yes," Acorna said, "to be educated in
the Linyaari ways, and to find . . . She blushed. "Well, to complete my
education."

(Yes, you're going to have all sorts of educational experiences,) Khaari
teased, and Acorna s blush deepened.

"But after that. . ."   Gill, Rafik, and Calum all waited with bated breath.

"We must maintain diplomatic contact with your race," Neeva said, "and as our
only expert in human ways, Acorna will be too valuable an envoy to be wasted
in any other position. Melireenya will be staying with you for the time being,
to be joined by her life-mate; but as soon as our 'Khornya has found her own
life-mate, I expect that she will be permanently assigned to this sector as
special attache to the Linyaari embassy."

Karina was the only one who could speak after this announcement. "Told you
so!" she grinned.

Meanwhile, far away from the human-settled sector of space, a damaged ship
fled homeward with its traumatized crew. Their speech could not be transcribed
in the letters of any human language, consisting as it did of a series of
rapid clicks whose changing rhythms carried their meaning; but the meaning
itself would have been perfectly clear to any of the iniquitous, warlike race
from whom they fled.

"We must warn our masters to have nothing more to do with this race," Senior
Click-Off Longlegs announced to clicks of agreement. "They are barbaric and
vicious beyond belief: when attacked, they actually fight back!"

As for whether the human race would remain equally content to have nothing to
do with the Khieevi . . . this they did not consider.


End Acorna's Quest