And the day returns too soon,

were unrestricted. The Athena, a new addition to the far-flung cruise line Galactica, Federated, was on the final leg of its first sweep round this portion of the Galaxy. Some of the ohs and ahs that Killashandra breathed were quite genuine as she and other economy class passengers were escorted on the grand tour of the liner. A self-study complex included not only the schoolroom for transient minors but small rehearsal rooms where a broad range of musical instruments could be rented with the notable exceptions of a portable Optherian organ a miniature theater, and several large workshops for handicrafters. To her astonishment, the gymnasium complex boasted three small radiant fluid tanks. Their guide explained that this amenity eased aching muscles, overcame space nausea, and was an economical substitute for a water bath since the fluid could be purified after every use. He reminded people that water was still a rationed commodity and that two liters was the daily allowance. Each cabin had a console and vdr, linked to the ships main computer bank which, their escort proudly told them, was the very latest FBM 9000 series with a more comprehensive library of entertainment recordings than many planets possessed. The FSPS Athena was a true goddess of the spaceways. During the first forty-eight hours of the voyage, while the Athena was clearing the Bernards World system and accelerating to transfer speed, Killashandra deliberately remained aloof, in her pose of shy student, from the general mingling of the other passengers. She was amused and educated by the pairings, the shiftings and realignments that occurred during this period. She made private wagers with herself as to which of the young women would pair off with which of the young men. Subtler associations developed among the older unattached element. To Killashandras jaundiced eye, none of the male economy passengers, young or old, looked interesting enough to cultivate. There was one absolutely stunning man, with the superb carriage of a dancer or professional athlete, but his classic features were too perfect to project a hint of his character or temperament. He made his rounds, a slight smile curving his perfect lips, well aware that he had only to nod to capture whichever girl, or girls, he fancied. Lanzecki might not have been handsome in the currently fashionable form but his face was carved by character and he exuded a magnetism that was lacking in the glorious young man. Nevertheless, Killashandra toyed with the idea of luring the perfect young fuji ir digital camera man to her side; rejection might improve his character no end. But to achieve that end she would have had to discard her shy student role. She discovered an unforgivable lack in the Athenas appointments the first time she dialed for Yarran beer. It was not available, although nine other brews were. In an attempt to find a palatable substitute, she was trying the third, watching the energetic perform a square dance, when she realized someone was standing at her table. May I join you? The man held up beakers of beer, each a different shade. I noticed that you were sampling the brews. Shall we combine our efforts? He had a pleasant voice, his ship-suit was well cut to a tall lean frame, his features were regular but without a distinguished imperfection; his medium length dark hair complimented a space tan. There was, however, something about his eyes and a subtle strength to his chin that arrested Killashandras attention. Im not a joiner myself, he said, pointing one beaker at the gyrating dancers, and I noticed that you arent, so I thought we might keep each other company. Killashandra indicated the chair opposite her. My name is Corish von Mittelstern. He put his beers down nearer hers as he repositioned the chair to permit him to watch the dancers. Killashandra turned ever slightly away from him, not all that confident of the remission of resonance in her body, though why she made the instinctive adjustment she didnt know. I hail from Rheingarten in the Beta Jungische system. Im bound for Optheria. Why, so am I! She raised her beer in token of a hand clasp. Killashandra Ree of Fuerte. Im Im a music student. The Summer Festival. Then a puzzled expression crossed Corishs face. But they have a Fuertan brew Oh, that old stuff. I might have to travel off-season and economy to get to Optheria but Im certainly not going to waste the opportunities of trying everything new on the Athena. Corish smiled urbanely. Is this your first interstellar trip? Oh, yes. But I know a lot about traveling. My brother is a supercargo. On the Blue Swan Delta. And when Mother told him that I was making the voyage, he sent me all kinds of advice and Killashandra managed a tinkling giggle and warnings. Corish smiled perfunctorily. Dont ignore that sort of advice. Fuerte, huh? Thats a long way to come. I think Ive spent half my life

While bishops have ought in their purse.

guard lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. "Surely if they're all like our friend here" "No danger from, this quarter," Mallory interrupted impatiently. "The soldiers in the townthey're bound to know by now that we've either missed Panayis or disposed of him. In either case they'll know that we're certain to come hot-footing out here. Work it out for yourself. They're probably half-way here already, and if they do come . . ." He broke off, stared at the smashed generator and the ruins of Casey Brown's transmitter set lying in one corner of the entrance hail. "Done a pretty good job on these, haven't they?" he said bitterly. "Thank the Lord," Miller said piously. "All the less to tote around, is what I say. If you could only see the state of my back with that damned generator" "Sir!" Brown had caught Mallory's arm, an action so foreign to the usually punctilious petty officer that Mallory halted in surprise. "Sir, it's terribly importantthe report, I mean. You must listen, sir!" The action, the deadly earnestness, caught and held Mallory's fully attention. He turned to face Brown with a smile. "O.K., Casey, let's have it," he said quietly. Things can't possibly be any worse than they are now." "They can, sir." There was something tired, defeated about Casey Brown, and the great, stone hail seemed strangely chill. "I'm afraid they can, sir. I got through to-night. First-class reception. Captain Jensen himself, and he was hopping mad. Been waiting all day fbr us to come on the air. Asked how things were, and I told him that you were outside the fortress just then, and hoped to be inside the magazine in an hour or so." "Go on." "He said that was the best news he'd ever had. He said his information had been wrong, he'd been fooled, that the invasion fleet didn't hold up overnight in the Cyclades, that they had come straight through under the heaviest air and E-boat escort ever seen in the Med., and are due to hit the beaches on Kheros some time before dawn to-morrow. He said our destroyers had been waiting to the south all day, moved up at dusk and were waiting word from him to see whether they would attempt the passage of the Maidos Straits. I told him maybe something could go wrong, but he said not with Captain Mallory and Miller inside and besides he wasn'the couldn't risk the lives of twelve hundred men on Kheros just on the off chance that he might be wrong." Brown broke off suddenly and looked down miserably at his feet. No one else in the hail moved or made any sound at all. "Go on." digital camera is pixelating Mallory repeated in a whisper. His face was very pale. "That's all, sir. That's all there is.. The destroyers are coming through the Straits at midnight." Brown looked down at his luminous watch. "Midnight. Four hours to go." "Oh, God! Midnight!" Mallory was stricken, his eyes for the moment unseeing, ivory-knuckled hands clenched in futility and despair. "They're coming through at midnight! God help them! God help them all now!" CHAPTER 15 2000-2115 Eight-thirty, his watch said. Eight-thirty. Exactly half an hour to curfew. Mallory flattened himself on the roof, pressed himself as closely as possible against the low retaining wall that almost touched the great, sheering sides of the fortress, swore softly to himself. It only required one man with a torch in his hand to look over the top of the fortress walla catwalk ran the whole length of the inside of the wall, four feet from the topand it would be the end of them alL The wandering beam of a torch and they were bound to be seen, it was impossible not to be seen: he and Dusty Millerthe American was stretched out behind him and clutching the big truck battery in his armswere wide open to the view of anyone who happened to glance down that way. Perhaps they should have stayed with the others a couple of roofs away, with Casey and Louki, the one busy tying spaced knots in a rope, the other busy splicing a bent wire hook on to a long bamboo they had torn from a bamboo hedge just outside the town, where they had hurriedly taken shelter as a convoy of three trucks had roared past them heading for the castle Vygos. Eight thirty-two. What the devil was Andrea doing down there, Mallory wondered irritably and at once regretted his irritation. Andrea wouldn't waste an unnecessary second. Speed was vital, haste fatal. It seemed unlikely that there would be any officers insidefrom what they had seen, practically half the garrison were combing either the town or the countryside out in the direction of Vygosbut if there were and even one gave a cry it would be the end. Mallory stared down at the burn on the back of his hand, thought of the truck they had set on fire and grinned wryly to himself. Setting the truck on fire had been his only contribution to the night's performance so far. All the other credit went to either Andrea or Miller. It was Andrea who had seen in this house on the west side of the squareone of several

To shoot at the fat fallow-deer.

crystals still clenched in my left mitten. "No." He shrugged. "But I know sugar used to be used for the treatment of coma. I thought maybe if I stuffed enough into myself.. . . Well, anyway, you know now why I turned criminal." "Yes, I know now. My apologies for the gun-waving act, Mr Mahler, but you must admit I had every justification. Why in the hell didn't you tell me before now? I am supposed to be a doctor, you know." "I would have had to tell you sooner or later, I suppose. But right now you'd plenty of troubles of your own without worrying about mine also. And I didn't think there would be much chance of your carrying insulin among your medical stores." "We don'twe don't have to. Everybody gets a thorough medical before going on an IGY station, and diabetes hardly develops overnight. . . . You take it all very calmly, I must say, Mr Mahler. Come on, let's get back to the tractor." We reached there inside a minute. I pulled back the canvas screen, and a thick white opaque cloud formed almost immediately as the relatively warm air inside met the far sub-zero arctic air outside. I waved my hand to dispel it, and peered inside. They were all still drinking coffeeit was the one thing we had in plenty. It seemed difficult to realise that we'd been gone only a few minutes. "Hurry up and finish off," I said abruptly. "We're on our way within five minutes. Jackstraw, would you start the engine, please, before she chills right down?" "On our way!" The protest, almost inevitably, came from Mrs Dansby-Gregg. "My dear man, we've hardly stopped. And you promised us three hours' sleep only a few minutes ago." "That was a few minutes ago. That was before I found out about Mr Mahler here." Quickly I told them all I thought they needed to know. "It sounds brutal to say it in Mr Mahler's presence," I went on, "but the facts themselves are brutal. Whoever crashed that planeand, to a lesser extent, stole the sugarput Mr Mahler's life in the greatest danger. Only two things, normally, could save Mr Mahler- a properly balanced high-calorie diet as a short term measure, insulin as a long term one. We have neither. All we can give Mr Mahler is the chance to get one or other of these things with all speed humanly possible. Between now and the coast that tractor engine is going to stop only if it packs in completely, if we run into an impassable blizzardor if the last of the drivers collapses over the wheel. Are there any objections?" It was a stupid, unnecessary, gratuitously truculent question to ask, but that's just sony dsc-f707 digital camera the way I felt at that moment. I suppose, really, that I was inviting protest so that I could have some victim for working off the accumulated rage inside me, the anger that could find its proper outlet only against those responsible for this fresh infliction of suffering, the anger at the near certainty that no matter what effort we made to save Mahler it would be completely nullified when the time came, as it inevitably must come, that the killers showed their hand. For one wild moment I considered the idea of tying them all up, lashing them inside the tractor body so that they couldn't move, and had the conditions been right I believe I would have done just that. But the conditions couldn't have been more hopeless: a bound person wouldn't have lasted a couple of hours in that bitter cold. There were no objections. For the most part, I suppose, they were too cold, too tired, too hungry and too thirstyfor with the rapid evaporation of moisture from the warm, relatively humid body thirst was always a problem in dry, intensely cold airto raise any objections. To people unaccustomed to the Arctic, it must have seemed that they had reached the nadir of their sufferings, that things could get no worse than they were: I hoped as much time as possible would elapse before they found out how wrong they were. There were no objections, but there were two suggestions. Both came from Nick Corazzini. "Look, Doc, about this diet Mr Mahler must have. Maybe we can't balance it, but we can at least make sure that he gets a fair number of caloriesnot that I know how you count the damn' things. Why don't we double his rationsno, even that wouldn't keep a decent sparrow alive. What say each of the rest of us docks a quarter of his rations and hands them over? That way Mr Mahler would have about four times his normal" "No, no!" Mahler protested. "Thank you, Mr Corazzini, but I cannot permit" "An excellent idea," I interrupted. "I was thinking along the same lines myself." "Good," Corazzini grinned. "Carried unanimously. I also suggest we'd get along farther and faster if, say, Mr Zagero and I were to spell you two on the tractor." He held up a hand as if to forestall protest. "Either of us may be the man you want, in fact, we might be the two men you wantif it is two men. But if I'm one of the killers, and I know nothing about the Arctic, navigation, the maintenance of this damned Citroen and

A friend whom death alone could sever;

within fifty yards of the great gates of the fortress itself. Mallory, gazing out at the gates and the still more massive arch of stone that encased them, shook his head for the tenth time and tried to fight off the feeling of disbelief and wonder that they should have reached their goal at lastor as nearly as made no difference. They had been due a break some time, he thought, the law of averages had been overwhelmingly against the continuation of the evil fortune that had dogged them so incessantly since they had arrived on the island. It was only right, he kept telling himself, it was only just that this should be so: but even so, the transition from that dark valley where they had left Andy Stevens to die to this tumble-down old house on the east side of the town square of Navarone had been so quick, so easy, that it still lay beyond immediate understanding or unthinking acceptance. Not that it had been too easy in the first fifteen minutes or so, he remembered. Panayis's wounded leg had given out on him immediately after they had entered the cave, and he had collapsed; he must have been in agony, Mallory had thought, with his torn, roughlybandaged leg, but the faffing light and the dark, bitter, impassive face had masked the pain. He had begged Mallory to be allowed to remain where he was, to hold off the Alpenkorps when they had overcome Stevens and reached the end of the valley, but Mallory had roughly refused him permission. Brutally he had told Panayis that he was far too valuable to be left there and that the chances of the Alpenkorps picking that cave out of a score of others were pretty remote. Ma!.. lory had hated having to talk to him like that, but there had been no time for gentle blandishments, and Panayis must have seen his point for he had made neither protest nor stuggie when Miller and Andrea picked him up and helped him to limp through the cave. The limp, Mallory had noticed, had been much less noticeable then, perhaps because of the assistance, perhaps because now that he had been baulked of the chance of killing a few more Germans it had been pointless to exaggerate his hurt. They had barely cleared the mouth of the cave on the other side and were making their way down the treetufted, sloping valley side towards the sea, the dark sheen of the Aegean clearly visible in the gloom, when Louki, hearing something, had gestured them all to silence. Almost immediately Mallory, too, heard it, a soft guttural voice occasionally lost in the crunch of approaching feet on gravel, had seen that they cheapest slr digital cameras were providentially screened by some stunted trees, given the order to stop and sworn in quick anger as he had heard the soft thud and barely muffled cry behind them. He had gone back to investigate and found Panayis stretched on the ground unconscious. Miller, who had been helping him along, had explained that Mallory had halted them so suddenly that he'd bumped into Panayis, that the Greek's bad leg had given beneath him, throwing him heavily, his head striking a stone as he had fallen. Mallory had stooped down in instantly renewed suspicionPanayis was a throw-back, a natural-born killer, and he was quite capable of faking an accident if he thought he could turn it to his advantage, line a few more of the enemy up on the sights of his rifle . . . but there had been no fake about that: the bruised and bloodied gash above the temple was all too real. The German patrol, having had no inkling of their presence, moved noisily up the valley till they had finally gone out of earshot. Louki had thought that the commandant in Navarone was becoming desperate, trying to seal off every available exit from the Devil's Playground. Mallory had thought it unlikely, but had not stayed to argue the point. Five minutes later they had cleared the mouth of the valley, and in another five had not only reached the coast road but silenced and bound two sentriesthe drivers, probablywho had been guarding a truck and command car parked by the roadside, stripped them of denims and helmets and bundled them out of sight behind some bushes. The trip into Navarone had been ridiculously simple, but the entire lack of opposition was easily understandable, because of the complete unexpectedness of it all. Seated beside Mallory on the front seat, clad, like Mallory in captured clothes, Louki had driven the big car, and driven it magnificently, an accomplishment so unusual to find in a remote Aegean island that Mallory had been completely mystified until Louki had reminded him that he had been Eugene Viachos's Consulate chauffeur for many years. The drive into town had taken less than twelve minutesnot only did the little man handle the car superbly, but he knew the road so well that he got the utmost possible out of the big machine, most of the time without benefit of any lights at all. Not only a simple journey, but quite uneventful. They had passed several parked trucks at intervals along the road, and less than two miles from the town

But I, being fond of true philosophy,

Brown eased his injured leg, looking hopefully at Mallory. "Couldn't we stay here till it's darkreal darkthen make our way" "No good. The moon's almost full to-nightand not a cloud in the sky. They'd get us. Even more important, we have to get into the town between sunset and curfew to-night. Our last chance. Sorry, Casey, but it's no go." Fifteen seconds, half a minute passed, and passed in silence, then they all started abruptly as Andy Stevens spoke. "Louki was right, you know," he said pleasantly. The voice was weak, but filled with a calm certainty that jerked every eye towards him. He was propped up on one elbow, Louki's Bren cradled in his hands. It was a measure of their concentration on the problem on hand that no one had heard or seen him reach out for the machine-gun. "It's all very simple," Stevens went on quietly. "Just let's use our heads, that's all. . . . The gangrene's right up past the knee, isn't it, sir?" Mallory said nothing: he didn't know what to say, the complete unexpectedness had knocked him off balance. He was vaguely aware that Miller was looking at him, his eyes begging him to say "No." "Is it or isn't it?" There was patience, a curious understanding in the voice, and all of a sudden Mallory knew what to say. "Yes," he nodded. "It is." Miller was looking at him in horror. "Thank you, sir." Stevens was smiling in satisfaction. "Thank you very much indeed. There's no need to point out all the advantages of my staying here." There was an assurance in his voice no one had ever heard before. The unthinking authority of a man completely in charge of a situation. 'Tune I did something for my living anyway. No fond farewells, please. Just leave me a couple of boxes of ammo, two or three thirty-six grenades and away you go." "I'll be damned if we will!" Miller was on his feet, making for the boy, then brought up abruptly as the Bren centered on his chest. "One step nearer and I'll shoot you," Stevens said calmly. Miller looked at him in long silence, sank slowly back to the ground. "I would, you know," Stevens assured him. "Well, good-bye, gentlemen. Thank you for all you'v? done for me." Twenty seconds, thirty, a whole minute passed In a queer, trance-like silence, then Miller heaved himself to his feet again, a tall, rangy figure with tattered clothes and a face curiously haggard in the gathering gloom. "So long kid. I guesswaal, mebbe I'm not so smart after all." He took Stevens's hand, looked down at the wasted face for a long moment, made to water resistant anti shock digital camera say something else, then changed his mind. "Be seein' you," he said abruptly, turned and walked off heavily down the valley. One by one the others followed him, wordlessly, except for Andrea who stopped and whispered in the boy's ear, a whisper that brought a smile and a nod of complete understanding, and then there was only Mallory left. Stevens grinned up at him. "Thank you, sir. Thanks for not letting me down. You and Andreayou understand. You always did understand." "You'llyou'll be all right, Andy?" God, Mallory thought, what a stupid, what an inane thing, to say. "Honest, sir, I'm O.K." Stevens smiled contentedly. "No pain leftI can't feel a thing. It's wonderful!" "Andy, I don't" "It's time you were gone, sir. The others will be waiting. Now if you'll just light me a gasper and fire a few random shots down that ravine." Within five minutes Mallory had overtaken the othera, and inside fifteen they had all reached the cave that led to the coast. For a moment they stood in the entrance, listening to the intermittent firing from the other end of the valley, then turned wordlessly and plunged into the cave. Back where they had left him, Andy Stevens was lying on his stomach, peering down into the now almost dark ravine. There was no pain left in his body, none at all. He drew deeply on a cupped cigarette, smiled as he pushed another clip home into the magazine of the Bren. For the first time in his life Andy Stevens was happy and content beyond his understanding, a man at last at peace with himself. He was no longer afraid. CHAPTER 13 Wednesday Evening 18001915 Exactly forty minutes later they were safely in the heart of the town of Navarone, within fifty yards of the great gates of the fortress itself. Mallory, gazing out at the gates and the still more massive arch of stone that encased them, shook his head for the tenth time and tried to fight off the feeling of disbelief and wonder that they should have reached their goal at lastor as nearly as made no difference. They had been due a break some time, he thought, the law of averages had been overwhelmingly against the continuation of the evil fortune that had dogged them so incessantly since they had arrived on the island. It was only right, he kept telling himself, it

And his broad arrows all 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 And Robin Hood he laught, and begun to smile, 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 wot there lies a new-slain knight;

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 And naebody kens that he lies there 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

For other's weal avail'd on high,

hadn't heard of Keith Mallory in the palmy, balmy days before the war? The finest mountaineer, the greatest rock climber New Zealand has ever producedand by that, of course, New Zealanders mean the world. The human fly, the climber of the unclimbable, the scaler of vertical cliffs and impossible precipices. The entire south coast of Navarone," said Jensen cheerfully, "consists of one vast, impossible precipice. Nary a hand or foot-hold in sight." "I see," Mallory murmured. "I see indeed. 'Into Navarone the hard way.' That was what you said." "That was," Jensen acknowledged. "You and your gangjust four others. Mallory's Merry Mountaineers. Hand-picked. Every man a specialist. You'll meet them all tomorrowthis afternoon, rather." They travelled in silence for the next ten minutes, turned up right from the dock area, jounced their uncomfortable way over the massive cobbles of the Rue Souers, slewed round into Mohammed All square, passed in front of the Bourse and turned right down the Sherif Pasha. Mallory looked at the man behind the wheel. He could see his face quite clearly now in the gathering light. "Where to, sir?" "To see the only man in the Middle East who can give you any help now. Monsieur Eugene Viachos of Navarone." "You are a brave man, Captain Mallory." Nervously Eugene Viachos twisted the long, pointed ends of his black moustache. "A brave man and a foolish one, I would saybut I suppose we cannot call a man a fool when he only obeys his orders." His eyes left the large drawing lying before him on the table and sought Jensen's impassive face. "Is there no other way, Captain?" he pleaded. Jensen shook his head slowly. "There are. We've tried them all, sir. They all failed. This is the last." "He must go, then?" "There are over a thousand men on Kheros, sir." Vlachos bowed his head in silent acceptance, then smiled faintly at Mallory. "He calls me 'sir.' Me, a poor Greek hotel-keeper and Captain Jensen of the Royal Navy calls me 'sir.' It makes an old man feel good." He stopped, gazed off vacantly into space, the faded eyes and tired, lined face soft with memory. "An old man, Captain Mallory, an old man now, a poor man and a sad one. But I wasn't always, not always. Once I was just digital camera model vpc-s500 middle-aged, and rich and well content. Once I owned a lovely land, a hundred square miles of the most beautiful country God ever sent to delight the eyes of His creatures here below, and how well I loved that land!" He laughed self-consciously and ran a hand through his thick, greying hair. "Ah, well, as you people say, I suppose it's all in the eye of the beholder. 'A lovely land,' I say. 'That blasted rock,' as Captain Jensen has been heard to describe it out of my hearing." He smiled at Jensen's sudden discomfiture. "But we both give it the same nameNavarone." Startled, Mallory looked at Jensen. Jensen nodded. "The Vlachos family has owned Navarone for generations. We had to remove Monsieur Viachos in a great hurry eighteen months ago. The Germans didn't care overmuch for his kind of collaboration." "It washow do you saytouch and go," Vlachos nodded. "They had reserved three very special places for my two sons and myself in the dungeons in Navarone. . . . But enough of the Viachos family. I just wanted you to know, young man, that I spent forty years on Navarone and almost four days"he gestured to the table"on that map. My information and that map you can trust absolutely. Many things will have changed, of course, but some things never change. The mountains, the bays, the passes, the caves, the roads, the houses and, above all, the fortress itselfthese have remained unchanged for centuries, Captain Mallory." "I understand, sir." Mallory folded the map carefully, stowed it away in his tunic. "With this, there's always a chance. Thank you very much." "It is little enough, God knows." Viachos's fingers drummed on the table for a moment, then he looked up at Mallory. "Captain Jensen informs me that most of you speak Greek fluently, that you will be dressed as Greek peasants and will carry forged papers. That is well. You will bewhat is the word?self-contained, will operate on your own." He paused, then went on very earnestly. "Please do not try to enlist the help of the people of Navarone. At all costs you must avoid that. The Germans are ruthless. I know. If a man helps you and is found out, they will destroy not only that man but his entire villagemen, women and children. It has happened before. It will happen again." "It happened in Crete," Mallory agreed quietly. "I've seen it for myself." "Exactly." Vlachos nodded. "And the people of

Therefore now abroad will I go;

force to overthrow the Elders tyranny on Optheria. But one Killashandra Ree, one-time resident of the planet Fuerte, barely four years a member of the Heptite Guild, had had no encounters at all with Galactic Justice, and feared it. She had never heard or known anyone who had been either defendant or plaintiff at an FSP court. Her ignorance rankled and her apprehension increased. Silently the four settled into the skimmer and it puffed along on its short return journey. It did not, as Killashandra half expected, stop at the imposing entrance. It ducked into an aperture to one side, down a brightly lit subterranean tunnel, and came to a gentle stop at an unmarked platform. There a man built on the most generous of scales, uniformed in the Judicial Livery, awaited them. In a state of numbness, Killashandra emerged. Killashandra Ree, the man said, identifying her with a nod, not friendly but certainly not hostile. Lars Dahl, Trag Morfane, and Olav Dahl. He nodded politely as he identified each person. My name is Funadormi, Bailiff for Court 256 to which this case is assigned. Follow me. I am Agent Dahl, number I know, the man said pleasantly enough. Welcome back from exile. This way. He stepped aside to allow them to enter the lift which had opened in the wall of the platform. It wont take long. Killashandra tried to convince herself that his manner was reassuring if his appearance was daunting. He towered above them and both Lars and Trag were tall men. Killashandra and Olav were not many millimeters shorter but she had never felt so diminished by sheer physical proportions. The lift moved, stopped, and its door panel slid open to a corridor, stretching out in either direction, pierced by atriums with trees and other vegetation. Gardens seemed an odd decorative feature of a Judicial building but did nothing to buoy Killashandras spirits. She rearranged her fierce grasp on Larss fingers, hoping that Funadormi did not see it and that he did, to show this human representative of the Courts that Lars Dahl had her total support. Funadormi gestured to the left and then halted their progress at the second door on the left, which bore the legend Grand Felony Court 256. Killashandra reeled against Lars Dahl, Trag behind him placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Olav straightened his lean frame against the imminent testing of a scheme that had been entered rather lightheartedly. Funadormi thumbed open the panel sony cyber-shot dsc-h10 digital camera and entered. It was not the sort of chamber Killashandra would have recognized as judicial. She did recognize the psychological testing equipment for what it was, and the armbands on the chair beside it. Fourteen comfortable seats faced that chair and the wall screens and a terminal which bore the Judicial Seal. A starred flag of the Federated Sentient Planets bearing the symbols indicating the nonhuman sentient species was displayed in the corner. The door panel whooshed shut behind them and Funadormi indicated that they were to be seated. He faced the screen, squared his shoulders, and began the proceedings. Bailiff Funadormi in Grand Felony Court 256, in the presence of the accused, Lars Dahl, remanded citizen of the planet Optheria; the arresting citizen, Trag Morfane of the Heptite Guild; the alleged victim, Killashandra Ree, also of the Heptite Guild; and witness for the accused, Olav Dahl, Agent Number AS-4897/KTE, present at this sitting. Accused is restrained under Federal Sentient Planet Warrant A-1090088-O-FSP55558976. Permission to proceed. Permission is granted, replied a contralto voice, deep and oddly maternal, definitely reassuring. Killashandra could feel her muscles unlock from the tenseness in which she had been holding herself. Will the accused Lars Dahl be seated in the witness chair? Lars gave her hand a final squeeze, smiled with a cocky wink at her, rose, and look the seat. The Bailiff attached the arm cuffs and stepped back. You are charged with the willful abduction of Heptite Guild member Killashandra Ree, malicious invasion of the individuals right to Privacy, felonious assault, premeditated interference with her contractual obligation to her Guild, placing her in physical jeopardy as to shelter and sustenance, deprivation of independent decision and freedom of movement, and fraudulent representation for purposes of extortion. How do you plead, Lars Dahl? The voice managed to convey an undertone of regretful compassion, and an invitation to confide and confess. Highly sensitized to every nuance. Killashandra wondered if, by some bizarre freak, the Judicial Branch might actually be guilty of a subtle use of subliminal manipulation in that persuasive voice. Not guilty on all counts, Lars answered quietly, and firmly, as he had rehearsed. And, Killashandra reassured herself, he was not, by the very wordage that Trag and Olav had cleverly employed. You may testify

For the rights of a monarch their country defending,

daily injections?" "Twice," he nodded. "Before breakfast and in the evening." "But don't you carry a hypo and" "Normally," he interrupted. "But not this time. The Gander doctor gave me a jab and as I can usually carry on a few hours overdue without Ul effects I thought I'd wait until we got to London." He tapped his breast pocket. "This card's good anywhere." "Except on the Greenland ice-cap," I said bitterly. "But then I don't suppose you anticipated a stop-over here. What diet were you on?" "High protein, high starch." "Hence the sugar?" I looked down at the white crystals still clenched in my left mitten. "No." He shrugged. "But I know sugar used to be used for the treatment of coma. I thought maybe if I stuffed enough into myself.. . . Well, anyway, you know now why I turned criminal." "Yes, I know now. My apologies for the gun-waving act, Mr Mahler, but you must admit I had every justification. Why in the hell didn't you tell me before now? I am supposed to be a doctor, you know." "I would have had to tell you sooner or later, I suppose. But right now you'd plenty of troubles of your own without worrying about mine also. And I didn't think there would be much chance of your carrying insulin among your medical stores." "We don'twe don't have to. Everybody gets a thorough medical before going on an IGY station, and diabetes hardly develops overnight. . . . You take it all very calmly, I must say, Mr Mahler. Come on, let's get back to the tractor." We reached there inside a minute. I pulled back the canvas screen, and a thick white opaque cloud formed almost immediately as the relatively warm air inside met the far sub-zero arctic air outside. I waved my hand to dispel it, and peered inside. They were all still drinking coffeeit was the one thing we had in plenty. It seemed difficult to realise that we'd been gone only a few minutes. "Hurry up and finish off," I said abruptly. "We're on our way within five minutes. Jackstraw, would you start the engine, please, before she chills right down?" "On our way!" The protest, almost inevitably, came from Mrs Dansby-Gregg. "My dear man, we've hardly stopped. And you promised us three hours' sleep only a few minutes ago." "That was a few minutes ago. That was before I found out about Mr Mahler here." Quickly I told them all I thought they needed to know. "It sounds using laptop to drive digital camera brutal to say it in Mr Mahler's presence," I went on, "but the facts themselves are brutal. Whoever crashed that planeand, to a lesser extent, stole the sugarput Mr Mahler's life in the greatest danger. Only two things, normally, could save Mr Mahler- a properly balanced high-calorie diet as a short term measure, insulin as a long term one. We have neither. All we can give Mr Mahler is the chance to get one or other of these things with all speed humanly possible. Between now and the coast that tractor engine is going to stop only if it packs in completely, if we run into an impassable blizzardor if the last of the drivers collapses over the wheel. Are there any objections?" It was a stupid, unnecessary, gratuitously truculent question to ask, but that's just the way I felt at that moment. I suppose, really, that I was inviting protest so that I could have some victim for working off the accumulated rage inside me, the anger that could find its proper outlet only against those responsible for this fresh infliction of suffering, the anger at the near certainty that no matter what effort we made to save Mahler it would be completely nullified when the time came, as it inevitably must come, that the killers showed their hand. For one wild moment I considered the idea of tying them all up, lashing them inside the tractor body so that they couldn't move, and had the conditions been right I believe I would have done just that. But the conditions couldn't have been more hopeless: a bound person wouldn't have lasted a couple of hours in that bitter cold. There were no objections. For the most part, I suppose, they were too cold, too tired, too hungry and too thirstyfor with the rapid evaporation of moisture from the warm, relatively humid body thirst was always a problem in dry, intensely cold airto raise any objections. To people unaccustomed to the Arctic, it must have seemed that they had reached the nadir of their sufferings, that things could get no worse than they were: I hoped as much time as possible would elapse before they found out how wrong they were. There were no objections, but there were two suggestions. Both came from Nick Corazzini. "Look, Doc, about this diet Mr Mahler must have. Maybe we can't balance it, but we can at least make sure that he gets a fair number of caloriesnot that I know how you count the damn' things. Why don't we double his rationsno, even that wouldn't

Burglariously broke his coffin's lid:

the shallowest of acknowledgments. The Harbor Master at Angel Island has detached him from duty there to be my personal bodyguard. Killashandra gave an elegantly delicate shudder. I wont feel safe without his sure protection. Quite understandable, Guildmember; however, I think that youll find our security measures I felt quite secure within the Conservatory, Elder Ampris, Killashandra said demurely. I seem to be only at risk when I leave its sanctuary. I assure you I have no desire to do that again. Security Leader Blaz Ill not have that officious oaf near me, Elder Ampris. Hes the reason I was put in jeopardy. The man has no intelligence or tact. I dont trust him to spit in the right direction. Captain Lars Dahl is in charge of my personal security at my personal insistence. Have I not made myself clear? For a second Elder Ampris looked about to argue the point, but the moment passed. He inclined his head again, forced his face into a grim smile, and then gestured toward the waiting vehicle. Why this vast throng? Killashandra asked, smiling graciously about her. Some of the winning composers and prospective performers for this years Festival and final-year students. All waiting for the organ to be repaired? Elder Ampris cleared his throat. Yes, that is true. Well, I shant delay them any longer than necessary. Especially since Captain Dahl proved so capable in assisting me with the cruiser drive. Ampris stopped midstride and stared first at her, then incredulously at Lars. Yes, werent you informed that the cruiser had drive difficulties this morning? One of the crystals shattered. I still have a slight headache from the distortion. Naturally the ship could not proceed without emergency repairs. And while that was merely a matter of removing the shards and resetting the brackets on the undamaged crystals, it does require steady hands, a keen eye and ear. Captain Dahl was far more adept than the cruisers engineer. And he has the perfect and absolute pitch required. I think he will prove an admirable assistant, one in whom I certainly repose complete trust. You do agree, Im sure. They had reached the vehicle now. You first, Captain Dahl, I shall want Elder Ampris on my right. Lars complied before the Elder could blurt out a protest and Killashandra settled herself, smiling as warmly as olympus digital camera bags possible at Ampris, just as if she hadnt delivered a most unpalatable request. The quartette settled itself in the seats behind them and the vehicle left the dock area. Ports required much the same facilities throughout the galaxy. Fortunately nature had conspired in favor of human endeavors, so warehouses, seamens hostels, and mercantile establishments were not quite so tortuously situated in City Port as in the City proper. The Music Conservatory on its prominence was visible as soon as the Port gave way to an agricultural belt. From this approach, Killashandra could see the lateral elevation of the Festival auditorium and the narrow path that led to the suburb Lars had called Gartertown. She wondered if thered be a new brew soon. Maybe Lars could collect a few bottles for her? The drive was in the main a silent one, with Ampris stewing beside her and Lars stiffly silent. The strained atmosphere began to affect her, causing her to wonder if she really were doing the right thing for Lars. Yet if she hadnt taken pains to divert suspicion from him, hed be running with a threat of rehabilitation hanging over him. Had she erroneously assumed that he was as eager to continue their relationship as she was? Olav had wreathed them both with the handfast garlands. Surely that act held significance. Shed best have it out with Lars as soon as possible. After what seemed a long time, they drew up at the imposing entrance to the Conservatory. I dispensed with the formality of a welcoming throng, Guildmember, in the interests of security. Elder Ampris got out of the car and turned to give her a steadying hand. I have no fear of a second assault, Elder Ampris, she said taking his dry clasp and smiling ingenuously at him, with Captain Dahl beside me. And, you know, after the courtesies I received at the hands of the islanders, Im beginning to think that that attack, as well as my abduction, were made to seem island-instigated. I cant imagine an islander being jealous of anything on the Mainland. Lars had emerged from the car, but his expression was devoid of reaction. The skin on Ampriss face was taut with the effort of controlling his. With your comfort in mind, Guildmember, perhaps you might prefer to eat in your suite this evening. That is so thoughtful, Elder Ampris. Resetting a crystal drive is an exhausting process. So many fiddling things requiring fine muscle coordination and complete concentration. She sighed

For it had been by sorrow nursed,

megaphone. I'll have a go with it this afternoon, perhaps. Might as well waste my time that way as any other." Joss turned away and it was obvious that, as far as he was concerned, the subject was closed. "Perhaps your friends will move within transmission range?" Corazzini suggested. "After all, you said they're not much more than a couple of hundred miles away." "And I said they'll be staying there. They've set up their equipment and instruments and they won't move until they have to. They're too short of petrol for that." "They can refuel here, of course?" "That's no worry." I jerked a thumb towards the tunnel. "There's eight hundred gallons out there." "I see." Corazzini looked thoughtful for a moment, then went on. "Please don't think I'm being annoyingly persistent. I just want to eliminate possibilities. I believe you haveor have had -a radio schedule with your friends. Won't they worry if they fail to hear from you?" "Hillcrestthat's the scientist in chargenever worries about anything. And unfortunately, their own radio, a big long-range job, is giving troublethey said a couple of days ago that the generator brushes were beginning to give outand the nearest spares are here. If they can't raise us, they'll probably blame themselves. Anyway, they know we're safe as houses here. Why on earth should they worry?" "So what do we do?" Solly Levin asked querulously. "Starve to death or start hikin'?" "Succinctly and admirably put," Senator Brewster boomed. "In a nutshell, one might say. I propose we set up a small committee to investigate the possibilities" "This isn't Washington, Senator," I said mildly. "Besides, we already have a committeeMr London, Mr Nielsen and myself." "Indeed?" It seemed to be the Senator's favourite word, and long years of practice had matched it perfectly to the lift of his eyebrows. "You will remember, perhaps, that we have rather a personal stake in this also?" "I'm unlikely to forget it," I said dryly. "Look, Senator, if you were adrift in a hurricane and were picked up by a ship, would you presume to advise the captain and his officers of the course they should adopt to survive the hurricane?" "That's not the point." Senator Brewster puffed out his cheeks. "This is not a ship" "Shut up!" It was Corazzini who spoke, his voice quiet and hard, and I could suddenly understand why he had reached the top in his own particularly tough and competitive business. "Or canon c 700 digital camera manual Mason is absolutely right. This is their own backyard, and our lives should be left in the hands of experts. I take it you have already reached a decision, Dr Mason?" "I reached it last night. JossMr Londonstays here to contact the others when they return. He will be left enough food for three weeks. We take the remainder, and we leave tomorrow." "Why not today?" "Because the tractor is at present unfit for winter travel, especially travel with ten passengers. It's still got the canvas hood on it that it had when we hauled stuff up from the coast. We have the prefabricated wooden sides and top that we need to arcticise it, plus the bunks and portable stove, but it will take several hours." "We start on that now?" "Soon. But first your luggage. We'll go out to the plane now, and bring that back." "Thank goodness for that," Mrs Dansby-Gregg said stiffly. "I was beginning to think I'd never see my stuff again." "Oh, you will," I said. "Briefly." "Just what do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously. "I mean that you'll all put on as many clothes as you're able to stagger about in," I said. "Then you have a small attache-case for your valuables, if you have any. The rest of the stuff we'll have to abandon. This is no Cook's tour. We'll have no room on the tractor." "Butbut I have, clothes worth hundreds of pounds," she protested angrily. "Hundreds?Thousands would be nearer it. I have a Balenciaga alone that cost over five hundred pounds, not to mention" "How much do you reckon your own life is worth?" Zagero said shortly. He grinned. "Or maybe we should abandon you and save the Balenciaga. Better still, wear it on top of everythingyou know, how the well-dressed woman leaves the ice-cap." "Excruciatingly funny." She stared at him icily. "Frequently fracture myself," Zagero agreed. "Can I give you a hand with the stuff, Doc?" "You stay here, Johnny Zagero!" Solly Levin jumped up in agitation. "One little slip on that ice" "Calm yourself, calm yourself." Zagero patted his shoulder. "Merely goin' in a supervisory capacity, Solly. How about it, Doc?" "Thanks. You want to come, Mr Corazzini?" I could see he was

I am Robin Hood, thy master good,

tunnel. "There's eight hundred gallons out there." "I see." Corazzini looked thoughtful for a moment, then went on. "Please don't think I'm being annoyingly persistent. I just want to eliminate possibilities. I believe you haveor have had -a radio schedule with your friends. Won't they worry if they fail to hear from you?" "Hillcrestthat's the scientist in chargenever worries about anything. And unfortunately, their own radio, a big long-range job, is giving troublethey said a couple of days ago that the generator brushes were beginning to give outand the nearest spares are here. If they can't raise us, they'll probably blame themselves. Anyway, they know we're safe as houses here. Why on earth should they worry?" "So what do we do?" Solly Levin asked querulously. "Starve to death or start hikin'?" "Succinctly and admirably put," Senator Brewster boomed. "In a nutshell, one might say. I propose we set up a small committee to investigate the possibilities" "This isn't Washington, Senator," I said mildly. "Besides, we already have a committeeMr London, Mr Nielsen and myself." "Indeed?" It seemed to be the Senator's favourite word, and long years of practice had matched it perfectly to the lift of his eyebrows. "You will remember, perhaps, that we have rather a personal stake in this also?" "I'm unlikely to forget it," I said dryly. "Look, Senator, if you were adrift in a hurricane and were picked up by a ship, would you presume to advise the captain and his officers of the course they should adopt to survive the hurricane?" "That's not the point." Senator Brewster puffed out his cheeks. "This is not a ship" "Shut up!" It was Corazzini who spoke, his voice quiet and hard, and I could suddenly understand why he had reached the top in his own particularly tough and competitive business. "Or Mason is absolutely right. This is their own backyard, and our lives should be left in the hands of experts. I take it you have already reached a decision, Dr Mason?" "I reached it last night. JossMr Londonstays here to contact the others when they return. He will be left enough food for three weeks. We take the remainder, and we leave tomorrow." "Why not today?" "Because the tractor is at present unfit for winter travel, especially travel with ten passengers. It's still got the canvas hood on it that it had when we hauled stuff up from the coast. We have the prefabricated wooden sides and top that we 6mp camera canon digital powershot s3 need to arcticise it, plus the bunks and portable stove, but it will take several hours." "We start on that now?" "Soon. But first your luggage. We'll go out to the plane now, and bring that back." "Thank goodness for that," Mrs Dansby-Gregg said stiffly. "I was beginning to think I'd never see my stuff again." "Oh, you will," I said. "Briefly." "Just what do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously. "I mean that you'll all put on as many clothes as you're able to stagger about in," I said. "Then you have a small attache-case for your valuables, if you have any. The rest of the stuff we'll have to abandon. This is no Cook's tour. We'll have no room on the tractor." "Butbut I have, clothes worth hundreds of pounds," she protested angrily. "Hundreds?Thousands would be nearer it. I have a Balenciaga alone that cost over five hundred pounds, not to mention" "How much do you reckon your own life is worth?" Zagero said shortly. He grinned. "Or maybe we should abandon you and save the Balenciaga. Better still, wear it on top of everythingyou know, how the well-dressed woman leaves the ice-cap." "Excruciatingly funny." She stared at him icily. "Frequently fracture myself," Zagero agreed. "Can I give you a hand with the stuff, Doc?" "You stay here, Johnny Zagero!" Solly Levin jumped up in agitation. "One little slip on that ice" "Calm yourself, calm yourself." Zagero patted his shoulder. "Merely goin' in a supervisory capacity, Solly. How about it, Doc?" "Thanks. You want to come, Mr Corazzini?" I could see he was already struggling into a parka. "I'd be glad to. Can't sit here all day." "These cuts on your head and hands aren't sealed yet. They'll sting like the devil when you get out into this cold." "Got to get used to it, haven't I? Lead the way." The airliner, crouching in the snow like some great wounded bird, was faintly visible in the twilight now, seven or eight hundred yards away to the north-east, port wing-tip facing us, lying at exactly right angles to our line of sight. There was no saying how often we might have to go out there, the quasi daylight would be gone in another hour

But Robin Hood he bent his noble bow,

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 And hee fetc'ht him back again. 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

And the day returns too soon,

realised what was happening they bad crossed the high divide, still roped together and in driving, blinding snow with zero visibility, and were sliding down the valley on the other side. They came to the cave at dawn, just as the first grey stirrings of a bleak and cheerless day struggled palely through the lowering, snow-filled sky to the east. Monsieur Vlachos had told them that the south of Navarone was honeycombed with caves, but this was the first they had seen, and even then it was no cave but a dark, narrow tunnel in a great heap of piled volcanic slabs, huge, twisted layers of rock precariously poised in a gulley that threaded down the slope towards some broad and unknown valley a thousand, two thousand feet beneath them, a valley still shrouded in the gloom of night. It was no cave, but it was enough. For frozen, exhausted, sleep-haunted men, it was more than enough, it was more than they had ever hoped for. There was room for them all, the few cracks were quickly blocked against the drifting snow, the entrance curtained off by the boulder-weighted tent. Somehow, impossibly almost in the cramped darkness, they stripped Stevens of his sea- and rain-soaked clothes, eased him into a providentially zipped sleeping-bag, forced some brandy down his throat and cushioned the blood-stained head on some dry clothing. And then the four men, even the tireless Andrea, slumped down to the sodden, snow-chilled floor of the cave and slept like men already dead, oblivious alike of the rocks on the floor, the cold, their hunger and their clammy, saturated clothing, oblivious even of the agony of returning circulation in their frozen hands and faces. CHAPTER 7 Tuesday 15001900 The sun, rime-ringed and palely luminous behind the drifting cloud-wrack, was far beyond its zenith and dipping swiftly westwards to the snow-limned shoulder of the mountain when Andrea lifted the edge of the tent, pushed it gently aside and peered out warily down the smooth sweep of the mountain side. For a few moments he remained almost motionless behind the canvas, automatically easing cramped and aching leg muscles, narrowed, roving eyes gradually accustoming themselves to the white glare of the glistening, crystalline snow. And then he had flitted noiselessly out of the mouth of the tunnel and reached far up the bank of the gully in half a dozen steps; stretched full length against the snow, he eased himself smoothly up the slope, lifted a digital camera memory card size faq cautious eye over the top. Far below him stretched the great, cpxved sweep of an almost perfectly symmetrical valleya valley born abruptly in the cradling embrace of steep-walled mountains and falling away gently to the north. That towering, buttressed giant on his right that brooded darkly over the head of the valley, its peak hidden in the snow cloudsthere could be no doubt about that, Andrea thought, Mt. Kostos, the highest mountain in Navarone: they had crossed its western flank during the darkness of the night. Due east and facing his own at perhaps five miles' distance, the third mountain was barely less high: but its northern, flank fell away more quickly, debouchbig on to the plains that lay in the northeast of Navarone. And about four miles away to the north-northeast, far beneath the snowline and the isolated shep herds' huts, a tiny, flat-roofed township lay in a fold in the hills, along the bank of the little stream that wound its way through the valley. That could only be the village of Margaritha. Even as he absorbed the topography of the valley, his eyes probing every dip and cranny in the hills for a possible source of danger, Andrea's mind was racing back over the last two minutes of time, trying to isolate, to remember the nature of the alien sound that had cut through the cocoon of sleep and brought him instantly to his feet, alert and completely awake, even before his conscious mind had time to register the memory of the sound. And then he heard it again, three times in as many seconds, the high-pitched, lonely wheep of a whistle, shrill peremptory blasts that echoed briefly and died along the lower slopes of Mt. Kostos: the final echo still hung faintly on the air as Andrea pushed himself backwards and slid down to the floor of the gully. He was back on the bank within thirty seconds, cheek muscles contracting involuntarily as the ice-chill eyepieces of Mallory's Zeiss-Ikon binoculars screwed into his face. There was no mistaking them now, he thought grimly, his first fleeting impression had been all too accurate. Twenty-five, perhaps thirty soldiers in all, strung out in a long, irregular line, they were advancing slowly across the flank of Kostos, combing every gully, each jumbled confusion of boulders that lay in their path. Every man was clad in a snow-suit, but even at a distance of two miles they were easy to locate: the arrow-heads of their strapped skis angled up above shoulders and

He loud began for to cry.

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 "Why, who art thou?" said the old woman, 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

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;

Theach grinned as he began to unpack the solar reflectors. Lars chuckled, linking his arm in hers, and swinging her down the slope to the beach. Cmon, Tanny, I want to be at the Bar Island before sundown. What with the routine necessary to up anchor and maneuver the Pearl through the one gap in the reef, there wasnt time for discussions until they were once again under full sail and beating due north for the Bar Island. Tanny, I think youd better go below, Lars began, signaling Killashandra to join him in the cockpit. What you dont know wont hurt you Who says? Tanny growled. Fix us some grub, will you? All this excitement gave me an appetite. So, and once Tanny had slammed the hatch closed, Lars turned expectantly to Killashandra, could I have some explanations? I rather think a few are due me! Lars cocked an eyebrow, grinning sardonically at her. Not when you must have figured out many of the answers already if youre half as smart as I think you are. Lars slid a finger across the scar on her arm, then he reached for her hand and held it up before her face, his thumb rubbing against the crystal scars. I came from the City. Indeed! Well, I did she said, deceptively meekly. Your best line, you witch, was the one about your having had no choice about coming to the islands! Lars could not contain his mirth then and tilting his head back, roared with laughter. I wouldnt laugh if I were you, Lars Dahl. Youre in an unenviable position in my files. She tried to sound severe but couldnt. His eyes were still brimming with humor when he abruptly switched mood. He touched the garland. Yes, I am rather. And on Angel Island. For one thing, according to island tradition, this announces us handfasted for a year and a day. I had guessed that the garlands signified more than your loving wish to adorn my person. The words came out more facetiously than she meant for she ached with a genuine regret. Larss steady blue eyes caught her gaze and held it. He waited for her explanation. With all the will in the world to continue what we started, I dont have a year and a day here, Lars Dahl. The words left her mouth slowly, unwillingly. As a crystal singer, I am compelled to return to Ballybran. Had I understood yesterday morning precisely what these blooms meant, I would not have accepted them. Thus does sea and sea digital underwater camera ignorance wound the giver. I am tremendously attracted to you as a man, Lars Dahl. And in the light of what I have been told, heard, and overheard, she gave him a faint smile, I can even forgive you that idiotic abduction. In fact, it would have been far more humiliating for me to have been caught in a raid on a bootleg brewery. What you cannot know is that I wasnt sent to Optheria merely to repair that organ I am here as an impartial witness, to learn if restriction to this planet is popularly accepted. Popularly accepted? Lars lifted half out of the cockpit seat in reaction. What a way to phrase it! It is the most singularly unpopular, repressive, frustrating, discouraging facet of the Optherian Charter. Do you know what our suicide rate is? Well, I can give you hard statistics on that. We made a study of the incidents and have copies of what notes have been left by the deceased. Nine out of ten cite the hopelessness and despair at having no place to go, nothing to do. If youre lucky enough to be unemployed on Optheria, oh, youre given food, shelter, clothing, and assigned stimulating community service to occupy you. Community service! Trimming thorn hedges, tidying up hillsides, dusting boulders in the roadways, painting and repainting federal buildings, stuffing the faces and wiping the bottoms of the incontinent at both ends of life. Truly rewarding and fulfilling occupations for the intelligent and well educated failures that this planet throws upon the altar of the organ! He had been emphasizing his disgust with blows of his fist to the tiller, until Killashandra covered his hand with hers. Which one of our messages got through? Its been like tossing a bottle message into the Broad Sea with precious little hope of its ever floating to the Mainland. The complaint originated with the Executive Council of the Federated Artists Association, who claim a freedom of choice restriction. A Stellar made the charge, though I wasnt told which one. His principal concern was with the suppression of composers and performers. She gave him a wry grin. Lars raised his eyebrows in surprise. It wasnt me who sent that one. Then he seemed to lake heart, his expression lightening with renewed hope. If one appeal got through, maybe others have, and well have a whole school of people helping us And youll help us? Lars, Im required to be an impartial I wouldnt dream of prejudicing