Truly that hour foretold

and gestured her into the lift. The door slid shut on Killashandra and Lars and, with an exaggerated sigh of relief, Killashandra leaned against him. He made a quick sign with his hand, his eyes busy on the ceiling pane. I am totally exhausted, Captain Dahl. So, Torkes had had the area monitored. That would make it exceedingly awkward for her and Lars. The lift made a brief, noiseless descent and then the door slid open to a scene that caught her breath. The wide window gave onto moonlit harbor. An aureole of bright light illuminating the ancient stratovolcano as a second moon rose behind it. Of one accord, they stood for a long moment in appreciation of the beauty. As Lars led her down to the short corridor toward two doors at its end, he glanced at the chrono on his wrist. Killashandra had time to notice the grin on his face before all the lights went off. Simultaneously she saw three short blue flashes, two along the corridor and a third one at the first door. What she began in alarm, but then the lights came on and Lars took her in his arms. Now were safe! You blew the monitors? And his ships systems. Fathers got a way with electronics and he swung her into his arms and impatiently strode toward the first door, which slid open to their approach. Im about to have my way with you. Which, of course, was exactly what Killashandra had been hoping for. Chapter 17 A breakfast tray in hand, Teradia appeared early next morning. Killashandra found she was in a large room brightly lit by sunlight reflected from the surface of the harbor. How the woman maintained her perfect grooming and serene composure Killashandra would have given much to know. Perhaps it had something to do with the experiential tranquillity of advanced years, although old in the physiological sense did not seem to apply to Teradia. And what of the day, oh bringer of delights? Lars asked, settling pillows behind Killashandra. Olav didnt miss a trick last night, did he? Hes still playing them this morning. Teradia smiled faintly. May I compliment you on last nights performance, Killashandra? You were spectacular. I dont think anyone on Torkess staff had ever witnessed its like. I was consumed with righteous wrath, Killashandra replied. Imagine, someone digital cameras for landscape pointing a weapon at me! A crystal singer! Lars soothingly stroked her arm and poured out the steaming morning beverage. Whats Olav up to today then? Teradia seated herself on the edge of the wide bed, folding her hands together in her lap, the faint smile still tilting the corners of her full lips. As you surmised, the power failure effectively crippled the cruiser, since Olav had so courteously suggested that they hook up to the land facilities and spare the cruisers batteries. Then it went, Torkes was quite upset, worrying about you, Guildmember, and thinking this was another attempt on your safety. Of course. the lift wouldnt operate, and an inspection party quickly discovered that this apartment cannot easily be scaled from the ground, so they posted guards on the waterfront. Thats why your sleep was undisturbed. She lowered her eyes briefly. Olav worked with the cruisers engineers all night, to discover the trouble in our generators which, as you might suspect, had suffered previously undetected damage from the hurricane. All is now restored, except, of course, the units which were overloaded! She pointed out the several char marks where walls met the ceiling. And, of course, the blown chip was discovered to be water damaged. Your father has a genius in that area. But I think you had both better put in appearances shortly. There are suitable garments for you both in the dressingroom and I have been requested to deliver necessities for you to the cruiser, Killashandra. Teradia rose in one lithe movement, hesitated, and then moved to Killashandras side. You can have no idea how I enjoyed seeing an Elder rendered speechless. An excellent strategy on your part. Keep them off balance and guessing. They dont have any experience with that! Then Teradia laid her soft, fragrant cheek against Killashandras and before the crystal singer could react, had glided out of the room and closed the door. You have made an impression, Lars said. Ill tell you about Teradias experience with the Council and youll understand what she meant. I never would have thought of complaining about that sentry nonsense, and Lars gave an exasperated sigh, but then, Im used to it. It must be He searched for the appropriate word, shrugged when he couldnt find it. How remarkable not to need weapons or guards. Is it the case in Ballybran, or did that felicitous state exist on your Fuerte, too? Both. On Fuerte for lack of aggression, and

To wear the bags of bread.

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

(I wonder what it will be like at forty?

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

When life again to dust is given,

an hour in your company, the sound off you makes the hairs on my arm stand up. See? Killashandra exchanged glances with Rimbol, before they examined the proof on Antonas extended arm. Antona laughed reassuringly, laying gentle fingers on Killashandras forearm. A perfectly normal phenomenon for a singer whos been out in the Rangers steadily for over a year. Neither of you would be affected but, as I dont sing crystal, I am. Get used to it. Thats what identifies a singer anywhere in the Galaxy But the Rani hot springs will diminish the effect considerably. So does time away from here. See you. As Killashandra watched Antona enter the lift, she felt Rimbols hand sliding up her arm affectionately. You feel all right to me, he said, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. Then he felt her stiffen and suppress a movement of withdrawal. He dropped his hand. Privacy sorry, Killa. He stepped back. Not half as sorry as I am, Rimbol. You didnt deserve that. Chalk it up to another side effect of singing crystal that they dont include in that full disclosure. She managed an apologetic smile. Im so wired I could broadcast. Not to worry, Killa. I understand. See you when you get back. Then he made his wobbly way into the yellow quadrant to his quarters. Killashandra stared after him, irritated with herself for her reaction to a casual caress. Shed had no such reaction to Lanzecki. Or was that the problem? She was very thoughtful as she walked slowly to her quarters. Fidelity was an unlikely disease for her to catch. She certainly enjoyed making love with Lanzecki, and definitely he exerted an intense fascination on her. Lanzecki had unequivocally separated his professional life from his private one. Rani, huh, she murmured to herself as she put her thumb to the door lock. She entered the room, closing the door behind her, and then leaned against it. Now, in the absence of background sounds, she could hear the resonance in her body, feel it cascading up and down her bones, throbbing in her arteries. The noise between her ears was like a gushing river in full flood. She held out her arms but the static apparently did not affect her, the carrier, or she had exhausted that phenomenon in herself. Mineral baths! Probably stink of sulfur or something worse. Immediately she heard the initial phluggg as radiant fluid began to flow into the tank in the hygiene room. Wondering why the room computer was on, she opened her mouth to abort the process, when her name issued from the speakers. Killashandra photoshop camera raw support digital Ree? The bass voice was unmistakably Trags. Yes, Trag? She switched on vision. You have been restored to the active list. Im going off-world as soon as I can arrange transport, Trag. Expressionless as ever, Trag regarded her. A lucrative assignment is available to a singer of your status. The Optherian manual? As Trag inclined his head once, Killashandra controlled her surprise. Why was Trag approaching her when Lanzecki had definitely not wanted her to take it? Youre aware of the details? For the first time Trag evinced a flicker of surprise. Rimbol told me. He also said he wasnt taking it. Was he your first choice? Trag regarded her steadily for a moment. You were the logical first choice, Killashandra Ree, but until an hour ago you were an Inactive. I was the first choice? Firstly, you are going off-world in any event and do not have sufficient credit to take you past the nearer inhabited systems. Secondly, an extended leave of absence is recommended by Medical. Thirdly, you have already acquired the necessary skills to place white crystal brackets. In the fourth place, your curriculum vitae indicates latent teaching abilities so that training replacement technicians on Optheria is well within your scope. Nothing was said about training technicians. Borella and Concera both have considerably more instructional experience than I. Borella, Concera, and Gobbain Tekla have not exhibited either the tact or diplomacy requisite to this assignment. Killashandra was amused that Trag added Gobbain to the list. Had Bajorn told Trag who had inquired about transport to Optheria? There are thirty-seven other active Guild members who qualify! Trag shook his head slowly twice. No, Killashandra Ree, it must be you who goes. The Guild needs some information about Optheria Tactfully and diplomatically extracted? On what subject? Why the Optherian government prohibits interstellar travel to its citizens. Killashandra let out a whoop of delight. You mean, why, with their obsession for music, there isnt a single Optherian in the Heptite Guild? That is not the relevant

On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint,

with them, and just then she didnt wish to see one more sanctimonious, self-righteous, smug Optherian face. She strode to the edge of the stage, peered over at the ten-foot drop to the ground, saw the heavy doors at each end of that level and made her decision. She lay at the edge, swung her legs down, gripping the overhang, and let go. Her knees took the jar and she leaned against the wall for a moment just as she heard the men emerge from the organ room. Shell have gone back to the Complex, Thyrol said, breathless with anger. He hurried across the stage, followed by the others. Simcon, if you have offended the Guildmember, you may have jeopardized far more than you have protected The heavy door closed off the rest of his reprimand. Somewhat mollified by Thyrols attitude and pleased with her timely evasion, Killashandra dusted off her hands and moved toward the clearly marked exit door at the outer edge of the amphitheater. Even the soft sound of the brushing was echoed by the fine acoustics. Grimacing, Killashandra stepped as cautiously and as silently as she could toward the exit. The heavy door had the usual push-bar on the inside, which she depressed, holding her breath lest it be locked from a control point. The bar swung easily out. She opened it only wide enough to permit her egress and it closed with a thunk behind her. Its exterior was without handle or knob for reentry and a flange protected it from being forced open if such a circumstance ever arose on perfect Optheria. Killashandra now found herself on a long ledge which led to one of the switchback paths she had seen yesterday, though this one was at the rear of the Complex. From that height she had a view of an unpretentious area of the City, to judge by the narrow streets and the small single-story buildings crowded together. Between it and the Complex heights lay a stretch of cultivated plots, each planted with bushy climbing plants and fenced off from its neighbors, and most of them neat. In several, people were busily watering and hoeing in the early morning sunlight. A rural scene served as a restorative to Killashandras exacerbated nerves. She began her descent. As she reached the valley floor, her nose was assailed by the unmistakable aroma of fermenting brew. Delighted, Killashandra followed the odor, squeezing past an old shed, traversing the narrow path between allotments, nodding polite greetings to the gardeners who paused in their labors to regard polaroid pc 1100 digital camera kit her with astonishment. Well, she was wearing a costume which marked her as alien to Optheria, but surely these people had encountered aliens before. The aroma lured her on. If it tasted half as good as it smelled, it would be an improvement on the Bascum brew. Of course it could be Bascum, for breweries were often situated in suburbs where the fumes would not irritate the fastidious. She reached the dirt road that served as main artery for the settlement, deserted at that morning hour except for some small, peculiar-looking animals basking in the sun. She was aware of being watched, but as that was only to be expected, she continued her inspection of the unprepossessing buildings facing the road. The brew-smell continued to permeate the air but intensified to her right. Common sense indicated that the wide gray structure on the far side of the road some thousand meters away was probably the source. She headed there. As she walked she heard doors and windows open behind her, marking her passage to her objective. She permitted herself a small smile of amusement. Human nature did not change and anything new and unusual would be marked in a society as dull and repressed as she suspected Optherias was. The brew-smell was almost overpowering by the time she reached the gray building. An exhaust fan was extracting the air from the roof, its motor laboring. Although there was no sign or legend on the building to indicate its purpose, Killashandra was not deterred. A locked front door, however, did pose an obstacle. She rapped politely and repeated her knock when it brought no immediate response. Thumping on the door also produced no results, and Killashandra felt determination replace courtesy. Was brewing illegal in Optherias largest city? Or could it be brewing without due license? After all, Bascum originated on Optheria and might have a monopoly. To be sure, she hadnt paid much attention to what plants were being so carefully tended in the gardens. Home industry? Thwarting the ever vigilant and repressive Elders? Quickly she stepped around the building and toward its rear, hoping to find a window. She caught a glimpse of a running juvenile body and heard it raise its voice in warning. So she raced around the corner to find the rear doors folded back on a scene of much industry as men and women supervised the bottling of a brew from an obviously improvised vat. The young messenger took one look at her and fled, ducking

And see that you all observe well my call,

of his rifle in his hand. A very effective club, I assure you. . . ." Slowly Mallory unclenched his fists and stared bleakly down the gully. Of course Casey would fall for that, he was bound to after what had happened earlier in the night. He wasn't going to make a fool of himself again, cry "wolf" twice in succession: inevitably, he had gone to check first. Suddenly the thought occurred to Mallory that maybe Casey Brown had heard something earlier on, but the thought vanished as soon as it had come. Panayis did not look like the man to make a mistake: and Andrea never made a mistake; Mallory turned back to the officer again. "Well, where do we go from here?" "Margaritha, and very shortly. But one thing first." The German, his own height to an inch, stood squarely in front of him, levelled revolver at waist height, switched-off torch dangling loosely from his right hand. "Just a little thing, Englishman. Where are the explosives?" He almost spat the words out. "Explosives?" Mallory furrowed his brow in perplexity. "What explosives?" be asked blankly, then staggered and fell to the ground as the heavy torch swept round in a vicious half-circle, caught him flush on the side of the face. Dizzily he shook his head and climbed slowly to his feet again. "The explosives." The torch was balanced in the hand again, the voice silky and gentle. "I asked you where they were." "I don't know what you are talking about." Mallory spat out a broken tooth, wiped some blood off his smashed lips. "Is this the way the Germans treat their prisoners?" he asked contemptuously. "Shut up!" Again the torch lashed out. Mallory was waiting for it, rode the blow as best he could: even so the torch caught him heavily high up on the cheekbone, just below the temple, stunning him with its jarring impact. Seconds passed, then he pushed himself slowly off the snow, the whole side of his face afire with agony, his vision blurred and unfocused. "We fight a clean war!" The officer was breathing heavily, in barely controlled fury. "We fight by the Geneva Conventions. But these are for soldiers, not for murdering spies" "We are no spies!" Mallory interrupted. He felt as if his head was coming apart. "Then where are your uniforms?" the officer demanded. "Spies, I saymurdering spies who stab in the back and cut men's throats!" The voice was trembling with anger. Mallory was at a lossnothing spurious about this indignation. "Cut men's throats?" He shook his digital camera reviews fuji is1 head in bewilderment. "What the heli are you talking about?" "My own batman. A harmless messenger, a boy onlyand he wasn't even armed. We found him only an hour ago. Ach, I waste my time!" He broke off as he turned to watch two men coming up the gully. Mallory stood motionless for a moment, cursing the ifi luck that had led the dead man across the path of Panayisit could have been no one elsethen turned to see what had caught the officer's attention. He focused his aching eyes with difficulty, looked at the bent figure struggling up the slope, urged on by the ungentle prodding of a bayoneted rifle. Mallory let go a long, silent breath of relief. The left side of Brown's face was caked with blood from a gash above the temple, but he was otherwise unharmed. "Right! Sit down in the snow, all of you!" He gestured to several of his men. "Bind their hands!" "You are going to shoot us now, perhaps?" Mallory asked quietly. It was suddenly, desperately urgent that he should know: there was nothing they could do but die, but at least they could die on their feet, fighting; but if they weren't to die just yet, almost any later opportunity for resistance would be less suicidal than this. "Not yet, unfortunately. My section commander in Margaritha, Hauptmann Skoda, wishes to see you firstmaybe it would be better for you if I did shoot you now. Then the Herr Kommandant in NavaroneOfficer Commanding of the whole island." The German smiled thinly. "But only a postponement, Englishman. You will be kicking your heels, before the sun sets. We have a short way with spies in Navarone." "But, sir! Captain!" Hands raised in appeal, Andrea took a step forward, brought up short as two rifle muzzles ground into his chest. "Not CaptainLieutenant," the officer corrected him. "Oberleutnant Turzig, at your service. What is it you want, fat one?" he asked contemptuously. "Spies! You said spies! I am no spy!" The words rushed and tumbled over one another, as if he could not get them out fast enough. "Before God, I am no spy! I am not one of them." The eyes were wide and staring, the mouth working soundlessly between the gasped-out sentences. "I am only a Greek, a poor Greek. They forced me to come along as an interpreter. I swear it, Lieutenant Turzig, I swear it!" "You yellow bastard!" Miller ground out viciously, then grunted in agony as a rifie butt drove into the small of his back, just above the kidney. He stumbled, fell forward on his hands and knees,

And he that acts as wise men ought,

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

If in this heart a hope be dear,

A communicative character. "Brewster," the other announced. He made a significant pause. "Senator Hoffman Brewster. Glad to help in any way I can, Dr Mason." "Thank you, Senator. At least I know who you are." Indeed, thanks to his magnificent flair for self-publicity, half the Western world knew who this outspoken, bitterlybut fairlyanti-communist, near isolationist senator from the south-west was. "On a European tour?" "You might say that." He had the politician's gift for investing even the most insignificant words with a statesmanlike consideration. "As Chairman of one of our Appropriation committees, I -well, let's call it a fact-finding tour." "Wife and secretaries gone ahead by humble passenger steamer, I take it," Zagero said mildly. He shook his head. "That was a fearful stink your Congressional investigation boys raised recently about the expenses of US senators abroad." "That was quite unnecessary, young man," Brewster said coldly. "And insulting." "I believe it was," Zagero apologised. "Not really intended as such. Sorry, Senator." He meant it. What a bunch, I thought despairingly, what a crowd to be stuck with in the middle of the Greenland ice-plateau. A business executive, a musical comedy star, a minister of religion, a boxer with an uninhibited if cultured tongue, his zany manager, a London society playgirl and her young German maid, a Senator, a taciturn Jew and a near-hysterical hostessor one apparently so. And a gravely injured pilot who might live or die. But willy-nilly I was stuck with them, stuck with the responsibility of doing my damnedest to get these people to safety, and the prospect appalled me. How on earth was I even to start to go about it, go about it with people with no arctic clothing to ward off the razor-edged winds and inhuman cold, people lacking in all knowledge and experience of arctic travel, even lacking, with two or three exceptions, the endurance and sheer muscular strength to cope with the savagery of the Greenland ice-cap? I couldn't even begin to guess. But whatever else they were lacking in at that moment, it wasn't volubility: the life-giving warmth of the brandy had had the unfortunate side effect of loosening their tongues. Unfortunate, that is, from my point of view: they had a hundred and one questions to ask, and they seemed to think that I should have the answer to all of them. More accurately, they had only half a dozen questions to ask, with a hundred and one variations of these. How was it possible for a pilot nikon digital camera d700 to veer so many hundreds of miles off course? Could the compasses have gone wrong? Could the pilot have had a brain-storm? But then surely both co-pilot and second pilot would have known something was wrong? Could the radio have been damaged? It had been a bitterly cold afternoon even when they had left Gander, was it possible that some of the naps and controls had iced up, forcing them off course? But if this were the case, why hadn't someone come to warn them of the possibility of the crash? I answered all of their questions as best I could but these answers were all to the same effect, that I didn't really know anything more about it than they did. "But you said some time ago that you did, perhaps, know one thing more than we did." It was Corazzini who put the question, and he was looking at me shrewdly. "What was that, Dr Mason?" "What? Ah, yes, I remember now." I hadn't forgotten, but the way things were shaping up in my mind I'd had second thoughts about mentioning it, and had time to think up a plausible alternative. "I need hardly tell you that it's nothing that I actually know, Mr Corazzinihow could I, / wasn't in the planejust a reasonably informed guess in the absence of all other solutions. It's based on the scientific observations made here and in other IGY stations in Greenland, some of them over the past eighteen months. "For over a year now, we have been experiencing a period of intense sun-spot activitythat's one of the main interests of the IGY yearthe most intense of this century. As you may know, sun-spots, or, rather, the emission of solar particles from these sun-spots, are directly responsible for the formation of the aurora borealis and magnetic storms, both of these being related to disturbances in the ionosphere. These disturbances can and, actually, almost invariably do interfere with radio transmission and reception, and when severe enough can completely disrupt all normal radio communications: and they can also produce temporary alterations of the earth's magnetism which knock magnetic compasses completely out of kilter." All of which was true enough as far as it went. "It would, of course, require extreme conditions to produce these effects: but we have been experiencing these lately, and I'm pretty sure that that's what happened with your plane. Where astral navigationby the stars, that isis impossible, as it was on a night like this, you are dependent on radio and compasses as your

Long time the manxome foe he sought -

had come after him, more than once when he had thought hope was gone. . . . He put his hand against Miller's chest. "You'll only be in his way, boss," Miller said urgently. "That's what you said . . ." Mallory pushed him 'aside, strode for the door, brought up his fist to strike as hands closed round his upper arm. He stopped just in time, looked down into Louki's worried face. "The American is right," Louki said insistently. "You must not go. Andrea said you were to take us down to the harbour." "Go down yourselves," Mallory said brusquely. "You know the way, you know the plans." "You would let us all go, let us all" "I'd let the whole damn' world go if I could help him." There was an utter sincerity in the New Zealander's voice. "Andrea would never let me down." "But you would let him down," Louki said quietly. "Is that it, Major Mallory?" "What the devil do you mean?" "By not doing as he wishes. He may be hurt, killed even, and if you go after him and are killed too, that makes it all useless. He would die for nothing. Is it thus you would repay your friend?" "All right, all right, you win," Mallory said irritably. "That is how Andrea would want it," Louki murmured. "Any other way you would be" "Stop preaching at me! Right, gentlemen, let's be on our way." He was back on balance again, easy, relaxed, the primeval urge to go out and kill well under control. "We'll take the high roadover the roofs. Dig into that kitchen stove there, rub the ashes all over your hands and faces. See that there's nothing white on you anywhere. And no talking!" The five-minute journey down to the harbour walla journey made in soft-footed silence with Mallory hushing even the beginnings of a whisperwas quite uneventful. 'Not only did they see no soldiers, they saw no one at all. The inhabitants of Navarone were wisely observing the curfew, and the streets were completely deserted. Andrea had drawn off pursuit with a vengeance. Mallory began to fear that the Germans had taken him, but just as they reached the water's edge he heard the gun-fire again, a good deal farther away this time, in the very north-east corner of the town, round the back of the fortress. Mallory stood on the low wail above the harbour, looked at his companions, gazed out over the dark oiliness of the water. Through latest digital cameras inaustralia the heavy rain he could just distinguish, to his right and left, the vague blurs of caiques moored stern on to the wall. Beyond that he could see nothing. "Well, I don't suppose we can get much wetter than we are right now," he observed. He turned to Louki, checked something the little man was trying to say about Andrea. "You sure you can find it all right in the darkness?" "It" was the commandant's personal launch, a thirty-six-foot ten-tonner always kept moored to a buoy a hundred feet offshore. The engineer, who doubled as guard, slept aboard, Louki had said. "I am already there," Louki boasted. "Blindfold me as you will and I" "All right, all right," Mallory said hastily. "I'll take your word for it. Lend me your hat, will you, Casey?" He jammed the automatic into the crown of the hat, pulled it firmly on to his head, slid gently into the water and struck out by Louki's side. "The engineer," Louki said softly. "I think he will be awake, Major." "I think so, too," Mallory said grimly. Again there came the chatter of machine-carbines, the deeper whiplash of a Mauser. "So will everyone else in Navarone, unless they're deaf or dead. Drop behind as soon as we see the boat. Come when I call." Ten seconds, fifteen passed, then Louki touched Mallory on the arm. "I see it," Mallory whispered. The blurred silhouette was less than fifteen yards away. He approached silently, neither legs nor arms breaking water, until he saw the vague shape of a man standing on the poop, just aft of the engine-room hatchway. He was immobile, staring out in the direction of the fortress and the upper town: Mallory slowly circled round the stern of the boat and came up behind him, on the other side. Carefully he removed his hat, took out the gun, caught the low gunwale with his left hand. At the range of seven feet he knew he couldn't possibly miss, but he couldn't shoot the man, not then. The guard-rails were token affairs only, eighteen inches high at the most, and the splash of the man falling into the water would almost certainly alert the guards at the harbour mouth emplacements. "If you move I will kill you!" Mallory said softly in German. The man stiffened. He had a carbine in his hand, Mallory saw. "Put the gun down. Don't turn round." Again the man obeyed, and Mallory was out of the water and on to the deck, in seconds, neither eye

Canst thou be my sole world, my universe!

the time I made the second try, everyone, even Jackstraw and myself, was shaking and shivering in the bitter cold. Normally, we wouldn't have felt it muchin very cold weather we wore two complete sets of furs, the inner one with the fur inside, the outer with the fur outside. But we'd given our extra pairs away to Corazzini and Zagerofurs were essential in that ice-box of a tractor cabinand suffered just as much as the others. Occasionally, someone would jump down from the tractor and run alongside to try to get warm, but so exhausted were most from sleeplessness, hunger, cold and eternally bracing themselves against the lurching of the tractor, that they were staggering from exhaustion within minutes and had to come aboard again. And when they did come aboard, the sweat from their exertions in such heavy clothes turned ice-cold on their bodies, putting them in worse case than ever, until finally I had to stop it. It grieved me to do what had to be done, what I saw must be done, but there was no help for it. The weariness, the cold and the sleeplessness could be borne no longer. When I finally gave the order to stop it was ten minutes after midnight, and we had been driving continuously, except for brief fuel and radio halts, for twenty-seven hours. CHAPTER EIGHTWednesday 4 A.M.8 P.M. Despite our exhaustion, despite our almost overwhelming need for sleep, I don't think anyone slept that night, even for a moment, for to have slept would have been to freeze to death. I had never known such cold. Even with twelve of us jam-packed inside a tiny wooden box built to hold five sleeping people at the most, even with the oil fire roaring up the chimney all night long and wanned by a couple of cups of piping hot coffee apiece, we all of us suffered agonies during these dark hours. The chattering of teeth, the St Vitus' dance of tremor-ridden limbs knocking against the thin uninsulated wooden walls, the constant rubbing as someone sought to restore life to a frozen face or arm or foot. These were the sounds that never ceased. How the elderly Marie LeGarde or the sick Mahler survived that night was indeed a matter for wonder. But survive they did, for when I looked at my luminous watch, saw that it was almost four o'clock and decided that enough was enough, both of them were wide awake when I switched on the little overhead light. Weak enough normally, that light was now no more than a feeble yellow glow- an ominous sign, it meant that even the tractor batteries were beginning to canon elph sd1000 digital cameras freeze upbut enough to see the crowded circle of faces, white and blue and yellowing with frostbite, the smoke-like exhalations that clouded in the air before them with every breath they took, the film of slick ice that already covered the walls and all of the roof except for a few inches round the stove pipe exit. As a spectacle of suffering, of sheer unrelieved misery, I don't think I have ever seen its equal. "Insomnia, eh, Doc?" It was Corazzini speaking, his teeth chattering between the words. "Or just forgotten to plug in your electric blanket?" "Just an early riser, Mr Corazzini." I glanced round the haggard and pain-filled faces. "Anybody here slept at all?" I was answered by mute headshakes from everybody. "Anybody likely to sleep?" Again the headshakes. "That settles it." I struggled to my feet. "It's only 4 a.m., but if we're going to freeze to death we might as well freeze on the move. Not only that, but another few hours in this temperature, and that tractor engine will never start again. What do you think, Jackstraw?" "I'll get the blow-torches," he said by way of answer, and pushed his way out through the canvas screen. Almost at once I heard him begin to cough violently in the deadly cold of the air outside, and, in the intervals between the coughing, we could clearly hear the dry rustling crackling of his breath as the moisture condensed, froze and drifted away in the all but imperceptible breeze. Corazzini and I followed, choking and gasping in turn as that glacial cold seared through throat and lungs, adjusting masks and goggles until not a millimetre of flesh was left exposed. Abreast the driving cabin I drew out my torch and glanced at the alcohol thermometerordinary mercury froze solid at38then looked again in disbelief. The red spirit inside the glass had sunk down to within an inch of the bulb and stood on the line of -68exactly one hundred degrees of frost. Still well below Wegener's -85, further short still of the incredible -125 that the Russians had recorded at the Vostok in Antarctica, but nevertheless the lowest, by almost fifteen degrees, that I had ever experienced. And that it should happen nownow, two hundred miles from the nearest human habitation, with Jackstraw and myself stuck with two murderers, a possibly

My name is John Little, a man of good mettle;

waterfront. Thats why your sleep was undisturbed. She lowered her eyes briefly. Olav worked with the cruisers engineers all night, to discover the trouble in our generators which, as you might suspect, had suffered previously undetected damage from the hurricane. All is now restored, except, of course, the units which were overloaded! She pointed out the several char marks where walls met the ceiling. And, of course, the blown chip was discovered to be water damaged. Your father has a genius in that area. But I think you had both better put in appearances shortly. There are suitable garments for you both in the dressingroom and I have been requested to deliver necessities for you to the cruiser, Killashandra. Teradia rose in one lithe movement, hesitated, and then moved to Killashandras side. You can have no idea how I enjoyed seeing an Elder rendered speechless. An excellent strategy on your part. Keep them off balance and guessing. They dont have any experience with that! Then Teradia laid her soft, fragrant cheek against Killashandras and before the crystal singer could react, had glided out of the room and closed the door. You have made an impression, Lars said. Ill tell you about Teradias experience with the Council and youll understand what she meant. I never would have thought of complaining about that sentry nonsense, and Lars gave an exasperated sigh, but then, Im used to it. It must be He searched for the appropriate word, shrugged when he couldnt find it. How remarkable not to need weapons or guards. Is it the case in Ballybran, or did that felicitous state exist on your Fuerte, too? Both. On Fuerte for lack of aggression, and on Ballybran because everyones too busy in the Ranges cutting crystal. We know our place and are secure in it, she paraphrased, mimicking Ampriss voice. Lars, how are we going to fuse the monitors at the Conservatory? Theyll have installed them, I know. You could always throw another tantrum. No thank you. Fits of temper are exhausting. Oh, is that truly why youre tired today? Pleasure never tires me. Now lets eat and dress. Ive just been attacked by a case of circumspection. A few minutes later they emerged onto the reception floor with no further delays. An officer immediately leaped to his feet at their arrival, stammering queries about Killashandras rest, apologies for any inconvenience caused by the power failure, and kodak digital camera reviewed obsequiously requesting Killashandra and Captain Dahl to join the Harbor Master and Elder Torkes in the communications room. Olav Dahl looked tired but there was a merriment in his eyes as he asked if all her needs had been satisfied. She reassured him, then turned to Torkes and affected surprise at his evident fatigue, fussing at him graciously. If the Guildmember is agreeable, I should like to depart immediately, Torkes replied, when the amenities were completed. He eyed her as if he expected her to demur. I left unfinished even unstarted, to be totally candid she said, the task which brought me to Optheria. I am more eager than you can imagine to complete the organs repair and depart. Im sure we will all feel relieved when Im safely homebound. Patently Elder Torkes could not be more in agreement, although he kept throwing skeptical glances at Killashandra as he made his farewells to Olav Dahl. Lars kept in the background. Meanwhile sailors in Council uniform had formed up into a guard of honor all the way from the Residence down to the pier where the cruisers boat awaited its distinguished passengers. Just as she reached the top of the steps, Killashandra looked up at the terraces, at the polly trees, the dwellings, at the old volcano on the Head, at the fishing skiffs serenely clearing the harbor, and she didnt want to leave Angel Island. Someone touched her arm and there was Olav with two garlands in his hand. Indulge me in an island custom, Guildmember. He draped the fragrant blossoms about her neck. Killashandra had just recognized the blooms as those with which Lars had handfasted her, when she saw Olav bestow one on his son. Discharge your duties assiduously to the protection of the Guildmembers person, my son, and return to us only when you have seen her safely to the shuttle port! Before Killashandra could say anything in acknowledgment, Olav had stepped back. So, she could only smile her gratitude for his vote of confidence and proceed to the waiting boat. Impatiently she brushed aside the tears in her eyes before anyone could notice, and took a seat under the awning amidships. She was not surprised when Lars did not elect to join her for she could well imagine that he had been equally astonished by Olavs farewell. She sat staring at the squat bulk of the cruiser, and liked it less the nearer she got to it. Nor did her opinion change during the three-day voyage back to the City. The Captain, a

Came runing out amain,

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

I've nothing to do."

by Germans who had rounded up their erstwhile Rhodian allies and put them in prison camps after the surrender of the Italian Government. In the morning they had passed within half a mile of a big German caiqueif flew the German flag and bristled with mounted machine-guns and a two-pounder far up in the bows; and in the early afternoon a high-speed German launch had roared by so closely that their caique had rolled wickedly in the wash of its passing: Mallory and Andrea had shaken their fists and cursed loudly and fluently at the grinning sailors on deck. But there had been no attempts to molest or detain them: neither British nor German hesitated at any time to violate the neutrality of Turkish territorial waters, but by the strange quixotry of a tacit gentlemen's agreement hostilities between passing vessels and planes were almost unknown. Like the envoys of warring countries in a neutral capital, their behaviour ranged from the impeccably and frigidly polite to a very pointed unawareness of one another's existence. These, then, were the pin-pricks-the visitations and bygoings, harmless though they were, of the ships and planes of the enemy. The other reminders that this was no peace but an illusion, an ephemeral and a frangible thing, were more permanent. Slowly the minute hands of their watches circled, and every tick took them nearer to that great wall of cliff, barely eight hours away, that had to be climbed somehow: and almost dead ahead now, and less than fifty miles distant, they could see the grim, jagged peaks of Navarone topping the shimmering horizon and reaching up darkly against the sapphired sky, desolate and remote and strangely threatening. At half-past two in the afternoon the engine stopped. There had been no warning coughs or splutters or missed strokes. One moment the regular, reassuring thump-thump: the next, sudden, completely unexpected silence, oppressive and foreboding in its absoluteness. Mallory was the first to reach the engine hatch. "What's up, Brown?" His voice was sharp with anxiety. "Engine broken down?" "Not quite, sir." Brown was stifi bent over the engine, his voice muffled. "I shut it off just now." He straightened his back, hoisted himself wearily through the hatchway, sat on deck with his feet dangling, sucking in great draughts of fresh air. Beneath the heavy tan his face was very pale. Mallory looked at him closely. "You look as 33l camera cheap digital pentax if you had the fright of your life." "Not that." Brown shook his head; "For the past two-three hours I've been slowly poisoned down that ruddy hole. Only now I realise it." He passed a hand across his brow and groaned. "Top of my blinkin' head just about lifting off, sir. Carbon monoxide ain't a very healthy thing." "Exhaust leak?" "Aye. But it's more than a leak now." He pointed down at the engine. "See that stand-pipe supporting that big iron ball above the enginethe water-cooler? That pipe's as thin as paper, must have been leaking above the bottom flange for hours. Blew out a bloody great hole a minute ago. Sparks, smoke and flames six inches long. Had to shut the damned thing off at once, sir." Mallory nodded in slow understanding. "And now what? Can you repair it, Brown?" "Not a chance, sir." The shake of the head was very definite. "Would have to be brazed or welded. But there's a spare down there among the scrap. Rusted to hell and about as shaky as the one that's on. . . . I'll have a go, sir." "I'll give him a hand," Miller volunteered. "Thanks, Corporal. How long, Brown, do you think?" "Lord only knows, sir. Two hours, maybe four. Most of the nuts and bolts are locked solid with rust: have to shear or saw 'emand then hunt for others." Mallory said nothing. He turned away heavily, brought up beside Stevens who had abandoned the wheelhouse and was now bent over the sail locker. He looked up questioningly as Mallory approached. Mallory nodded. "Just get them out and up. Maybe four hours, Brown says. Andrea and I will do our landlubberly best to help." Two hours later, with the engine still out of commission, they were well outside territorial waters, closing on a big island some eight miles away to the W.N.W. The wind, warm and oppressive now, had backed to a darkening and thundery east, and with only a lug and a jiball the sails they had foundbent to the foremast, they could make no way at all into it. Mallory had decided to make for the islandthe chances of being observed there were far less than in the open sea. Anxiously he looked at his watch, then stared back moodily at the receding safety of the Turkish shore. Then he stiffened,

But I, being fond of true philosophy,

outline of the keepless than a cross-country mile from the town instead of Louki's exaggerated estimatewhen they passed by an abandoned earthen house and Miller spoke for the first time since they had left the town square of Navarone. "I'm bushed, boss." His head was sunk on his chest, and his breathing was laboured. "01' man Miller's on the downward path, I reckon, and the legs are gone. Couldn't we squat inside here for a couple of minutes, boss, and have a smoke?" Mallory looked at him in surprise, thought how desperately weary his own legs felt and nodded in reluctant agreement. Miller wasn't the man to complain unless he was near exhaustion. "Okay, Dusty, I don't suppose a minute or two will harm." He translated quickly into Greek and led the way inside, Miller at his heels complaining at length about his advancing age. Once inside, Mallory felt his way across to the inevitable wooden bunk, sat down gratefully, lit a cigarette, then looked up in puzzlement. Miller was still on his feet, walking slowly round the hut, tapping the walls as he went. "Why don't you sit down?" Mallory asked irritably. "That was why you came in here in the first place, wasn't it?" "No, boss, not really." The drawl was very pronounced. "Just a low-down trick to get us inside. Twothree very special things I want to show you." "Very special. What the devil are you trying to tell me?" "Bear with me, Captain Mallory," Miller requested formally. "Bear with me just a few minutes. I'm not wastin' your time. You have my word, Captain Mallory." "Very well." Mallory was mystified, but his confidence in Miller remained unshaken. "As you wish. Only don't be too long about it." "Thanks, boss." The strain of formality was too much for Miller. "It won't take long. There'll be a lamp or candles in hereyou said the islanders never leave an abandoned house without 'em?" "And a very useful superstition it's been to us, too." Mallory reached under the bunk with his torch, straightened his back. "Two or three candles here." "I want a light, boss. No windowsI checked. O.K.?" "Light one and I'll go outside to see if there's anything showing." Mallory was completely in the dark about the American's intentions. He felt Miller didn't want him to say anything, and there was a calm surety about him that precluded questioning. Mallory was back in less than a minute. "Not a chink to be seen from the outside," he reported. "Fair enough. Thanks, boss." Miller lit a second top consumer choice digital cameras candle, then slipped the rucksack straps from his shoulders, laid the pack on the bunk and stood in silence for a moment. Mallory looked at his watch, looked back at Miller. "You were going to show me something," he prompted. "Yeah, that's right. Three things, I said." He dug into the pack, brought out a little black box hardly bigger than a match-box. "Exhibit A, boss." Mallory looked at it curiously. "What's that?" "Clockwork fuse." Miller began to unscrew the back panel. "Hate the damned things. Always make me feel like one of those bolshevik characters with a dark cloak, a moustache like Louki's and carryin' one of those black cannon-ball things with a sputterin' fuse stickin' outa it. But it works." He had the back off the box now, examining the mechanism in the light of his torch. "But this one doesn't, not any more," he added softly. "Clock's O.K., but the contact arm's been bent right back. This thing could tick till Kingdom Come and it couldn't even set off a firework." "But how on earth?" "Exhibit B." Miller didn't seem to hear him. He opened the detonator box, gingerly lifted a fuse from its felt and cotton-wool bed and examined it closely under his torch. Then he looked at Mallory again. "Fulminate of mercury, boss. Only seventy-seven grains, but enough to blow your fingers off. Unstable as hell, toothe little tap will set it off." He let it fall to the ground, and Mallory winced and drew back involuntarily as the American smashed a heavy heel down on top of it. But there was no explosion, nothing at all. "Ain't workin' so good either, is it, boss? A hundred to one the rest are all empty, too." He fished out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and watched the smoke eddy and swirl above the heat of the candles. He slid the cigarettes into his pocket. "There was a third thing you were going to show me," Mallory said quietly. "Yeah, I was goin' to show you somethin' else." The voice was very gentle, and Mallory felt suddenly cold. "I was goin' to show you a spy, a traitor, the most vicious, twistin', murderin', doublecrossin' bastard I've ever known." The American had his hand out of his pocket now, the silenced automatic sitting snugly against his palm, the muzzle trained over Panayis's heart. He went on, more gently than ever.

Would be wasting our breath."

Festival, Lars, but may we at least hear it? Plainly the request distressed Lars Dahl, for his mouth twitched and he had ducked his head against the compelling level gaze. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath, reluctantly accepting the instrument. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he strummed a chord to test the strings. Lars did not look at Olav, though he could not refuse the older man s request, nor did he look out at the audience. His expression was bleak as he inhaled deeply, concentrating onward to the performance. The rankling disappointment, the pain of that rejection, and the sense of failure which Lars had experienced were as clear to Killashandra as if broadcast. Her cynical evaluation of him altered radically. She was possibly the only one in the entire assembly who could empathize, could understand and appreciate the deep and intense conflict he had to overcome at that moment. She also could approve heartily of the professionalism in him that unprotestingly accepted the challenge of an excruciating demand. Lars Dahl possessed a potentially Stellar temperament. Despite her proximity to him, she almost missed the first whispering chords which his strong fingers stroked from the strings. A haunting chord, expanded and then altered into a dominant, just like the dawn breeze through the old polly tree on her island of exile. Soft gray and pink as the sky lightened, and then the sun would warm the night-closed blossoms, their fragrance drifting to beguile senses: and the rising lilts of bird, the gentle susurrus of waves on the shore, and the lift in the spirit for the pleasure of a new day, for the duties of the day: climbing the polly for the ripe fruit, fishing off the end of a headland, the bright sun on the water, the rising breeze, the colors of day, the aroma of frying fish, the somnolence of midday when the suns heat sent people to hammock or mat an entire day in the life of an islander was in his music, colored and scented, and how he managed that feat of musical conjuring on a limited instrument like a twelve-string, Killashandra did not know. How that music would sound on the Optherian organ was something she would give her next cutting of black crystal to hear! And the Music Masters had rejected his composition? She was beginning to understand why he might wish to assassinate her, and why he had kidnapped her: to prevent the repair of the great organ and, perhaps other less worthy compositions, from being played by anyone. And yet there was nothing in her brief panasonic ag-dvc60 digital camera association with Lars Dahl, in this evenings showmanship, even in his reluctant acquiescence to the demands of his island, to suggest such a dark vengeful streak in the man. When the last chord, heralding moon-set, had faded into silence, Lars Dahl set the instrument down carefully and, turning on his heel, stalked away. There were murmurs of approval and regret, even anger in some faces, a more complimentary reaction to the beauty of what they had been privileged to hear than any wild applause. Then, people began to talk quietly in little groups, and one of the guitars tried to repeat one of the deceptively simple threnodies of Larss composition. With a glance to be sure no one was observing her, Killashandra rose to her feet and slipped out of the flickering torch light. Adjusting her eyes to the night, she saw movement off to the right and moved toward it, almost turning her ankle in one of the footprints that Larss angry passage had gouged in the soft sand. She saw his figure outlined against the sky, a dark tense shadow. Lars . . She wasnt sure what she could say to ease his distress but he shouldnt be alone, he shouldnt feel his music had not been appreciated, that the totality of the picture that he had so richly portrayed had not come across to his listeners. Leave me his bitter voice began, and then his arm snaked out, and catching her outstretched hand, pulled her roughly to him. I need a woman. Im here. Holding tight to her hand, he pulled her into a lope. Then, pushing at her shoulder with his, he guided her at right angles to the beach, up toward the thick shadow of the polly grove on the headland, near where she had beached that morning. When she tried to slow his headlong pace, his hand shifted to her elbow. His grip was electric, his fingers seemed to transfer that urgency to her and anticipation began to course through her breast and belly. How they avoided running into a polly tree trunk, or stumbling over the thick gnarled roots, she never knew. Then suddenly he slowed, murmured a warning to be careful. She could see him lift his arms to push through stiff underbrush. She heard the ripple of a stream, smelt the moisture in the air, and the almost overpowering perfume emanating from the creamy blossoms before she followed him, pushing through the bushes. Then her feet were on the coarse velvet of some kind of moss, carpeting the banks of the stream. His hands

With no jury or judge

shouted. Mallory stiffened, froze to immobility. The needle had jammed hard into the palm of his band, but he didn't even notice it. The lieutenant had spoken in English! Stevens was so young, so inexperienced. He'll fall for it, Mallory thought with a sudden sick certainty, he's bound to fall for it. But Stevens didn't fall for it. He opened the door, leaned out, cupped his hand to his ear and gazed vacantly up to the sky, his mouth wide open. It was so perfect an imitation of dull-Witted failure to catch or comprehend a shouted message that it was almost a caricature. Mallory could have hugged him. Not in his actions alone, but in his dark, shabby clothes and hair as blackly counterfeit as Miller's, Stevens was the slow, suspicious island fisherman to the life. "Eh?" he bawled. "Lower your sails! We are coming aboard!" English again, Mallory noted; a persistent fellow this. Stevens stared at him blankly, looked round helplessly at Andrea and Mallory: their faces registered a lack of comprehension as convincing as his own. He shrugged his shoulders in despair. "I am sorry, I do not understand German," he shouted. "Can you not speak my language?" Stevens's Greek was perfect, fluent and idiomatic. It was also the Greek of Attica, not of the islands; but Mallory felt sure that the lieutenant wouldn't know the difference. He didn't. He shook his head in exasperation, called in slow, halting Greek: "Stop your boat at once. We are coming aboard." "Stop my boat!" The indignation was so genuine, the accompanying flood of furious oaths so authentic, that even the lieutenant was momentarily taken back. "And why should I stop my boat for you, youyou" "You have ten seconds," the lieutenant interrupted. He was on balance again, cold, precise. "Then we will shoot." Stevens gestured in admission of defeat and turned to Andrea and Mallory. "Our conquerors have spoken," he said bitterly. "Lower the sails." Quickly they loosened the sheets from the cleats at the foot of the mast. Mallory pulled the jib down, gathered the sail in his arms and squatted sullenly on the deckhe knew a dozen hostile eyes were watching himclose by the fish box. The sail covering his knees and the old coat, his forearms on his thighs, he sat with head bowed and hands dangling between his knees, the picture of heart-struck dejection. The lug-sail, weighted by the boom at the top, came down with a rush. Andrea stepped over it, walked a couple of fujifilm e900 digital camera instructions uncertain paces aft, then stopped, huge hands hanging emptily by his sides. A sudden deepening in the muted throbbing of the diesel, a spin of the wheel and the big German caique was rubbing alongside. Quickly, but carefully enough to keep out of the line of fire of the mounted Spandaus there was a second clearly visible now on the poopthe three men armed with the Schmeissers leapt aboard. Immediately one ran forward, whirled round level with the foremast, his automatic carbine circling gently to cover all of the crew. All except Malloryand be was leaving Mallory in the safe bands of the Spandan gunner in the bows. Detachedly, Mallory admired the precision, the timing, the clockwork inevitability of an old routine. He raised his head, looked around him with a slow, peasant indifference. Casey Brown was squatting on the deck abreast the engine-room, working on the big bailsilencer on top of the batch-cover. Dusty Miller, two paces farther for'ard and with his brows furrowed in concentration, was laboriously cutting a section of metal from a little tin box, presumably to help in the engine repairs. He was holding the wire-cutting pliers in his left handand Miller, Mallory knew, was right-handed. Neither Stevens nor Andrea had moved. The man beside the foremast still stood there, eyes unwinking. The other two were walking slowly aft, bad just passed Andrea, their carriage relaxed and easy, the bearing of men who know they have everything so completely under control that even the idea of trouble is ridiculous. Carefully, coldly and precisely, at point-blank range and through the folds of both coat and sail, Mallory shot the Spandau machine-gunner through the heart, swung the still chattering Bren round and saw the guard by the mast crumple and die, half his chest torn away by the tearing slugs of the machine-gun. But the dead man was still on his feet, still had not hit the deck, when four things happened simultaneously. Casey Brown had had his band on Miller's silenced automatic, lying concealed beneath the ball-silencer, for over a minute. Now he squeezed the trigger four times, for he wanted to mak' siccar; the after machine-gunner leaned forward tiredly over his tripod, lifeless fingers locked on the firing-guard. Miller crimped the three-second chemical fuse with the pliers, lobbed the tin box into the enemy engine-room, Stevens spun the armed stick-grenade into the opposite wheelhouse and

Where we '11 not want gold nor silver, behold,

reality for the participant. Is the organ limited to Optheria? Ive never encountered one before in all my voyaging. It is unique to Optheria. Which certainly has many unique experiences for the visitor. Mirbethans pace, and her erect back, seemed to reflect at once her approval, and shock, at their conversation. Why, then, Captain Dahl, if you have studied to use the organ, are you sailing about in the islands? Because, Guildmember, my composition was ah not approved by the Masters who pass judgment on such aspirations, so I returned to my previous occupation. To be sure, I am selfishly glad, Captain for who would have rescued me had you not been in those waters? Killashandra sighed deeply just as they turned the corridor into the hall she did recognize . Mirbethan? The woman whirled, her expression composed though she was breathing rather rapidly. By any chance, I mean, I know Ive been gone a good while, but I do hope that those beverages Your catering facility has been completely stocked with the beverages of your choice. And the chimes have been turned off? Mirbethan nodded. And the catering unit instructed to supply proper-size portions of food without requiring additional authorization? Thank you. I, for one, am starving. Sea air, you know. With a final smile, Killashandra swept through the door Lars held open. By the time he had shut it, she had discovered four ceiling surveillance units in the main salon. I am quite weary, Captain. With due respect, Guildmember, you did not eat much of the evening meal, perhaps a light supper The variety on the catering unit seems geared to student requirements unless you, having spent time here, can make a suggestion. Indeed I would be delighted to, Guildmember. Lars located several more as they moved through the suite to the two bedrooms. He peered into the first bathing room and grinned broadly at her. May I draw you a bath? An excellent idea. She strode to what was evidently the one room that had been left unmonitored. Lars began filling the tub, having turned the taps on full. He reached into his tunic and extracted an innocuous metal ball. A deceiver, Father calls it. It distorts picture and sound we can be quite free once its operating. shutter camera digital vario And when we leave the suite, he grinned, miming the device returned to his pocket itll drive their technicians wild. Wont they realize that the distortion only works when were here? I suggest that tomorrow you complain about being monitored in the bedroom. Can we cope with just one free room? He began to undress her, his expression intense with anticipation. Two, Killashandra corrected him with a coy moue as the bright and elegant overall Teradia had chosen for her fell in a rainbow puddle at her feet. It was, of course, thoroughly soaked with the water displaced when Lars overbalanced her into the tub. When they had sated their appetites sufficiently, Killashandra idly described wet circles on the broad expanse of Larss chest. I think that with the best motives in the world, I have placed you in an awkward situation. Beloved Killashandra, when you sprang that, and he aptly mimicked her voice, I have no fear of being assaulted with Captain Dahl beside me, I nearly choked. I felt you quaking, but I didn t know if it was laughter or outrage. And then suggesting that someone else had instigated the attack to implicate islanders Killashandra, I wouldnd have missed that for anything. You really got mine back on the flatulent fardling. But watch him, Killa. Hes dangerous. Once he and Torkes start comparing notes They still have to get that organ fixed in time for all those lucky little composers to practice their pieces. Im here and even if a replacement is coming, its the old bird-in-the-hand. Yes, and theyve got to have done all the Mainland concerts to ensure a proper Optherian attitude toward visitors. Proper attitude? Mainland concerts? What do you mean? Lars held her slightly away from him in the capacious bath, reading her face and eyes. You dont know? You dont really know why that organ is so important to the Elders? Well, I do know that the set-up will produce an intense emotional experience for the listener. It verges on illegal manipulation. Lars gave a sour laugh. Verges? It is. But then you would only have seen the sensory elements. The subliminal units are kept out of sight, underneath the organ loft. Subliminals? Killashandra stared at Lars. Of course, ninny. How do you think the Elders keep the people of Optheria from wanting any of