Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate,

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 A thread of water, churned to milky spate 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

The arrow within the hart would not abide,

eyes held hers steadily and a worried crease to his brows emphasized his warning. Its a long haul to the Optherian system. Youd be gone from Ballybran nearly a full year All the better You say that now when youre full of crystal resonance. You cant have forgotten Carrik yet. His reminder conjured flashing scenes of the first crystal singer she had met: Carrik laughing as they swam in Fuertes seas, then Carrik wracked by withdrawal fever and finally the passive hulk of the man, shattered by sonic resonance. You will in time, Ive no doubt, experience that phenomenon, Lanzecki said. Ive never known a singer who didnt try to push himself and his symbiont to their limits. A major disadvantage to the Optherian contract is that you would lose any resonance to your existing claims. As if I had a decent claim among the lot. Killashandra snorted in disgust. Rose is no good to anyone and the blue petered out after two days cutting. Even the white vein skips and jumps. I cut the best of the accessible vein. With the kind of luck Ive been enjoying, the storm has probably made a total bollix of the site. I am not not, I repeat spending another three weeks in a spade and basket operation. Not for white. Why cant Research develop an efficient portable excavator? Lanzecki cocked his head slightly. It is the firm opinion of Research that any one of the nine efficient, portable and durable, a significant pause, excavators already field-tested ought to perform the task for which it was engineered except in the hands of a crystal singer. It is the opinion of Research that the only two pieces of equipment that do not tax the mechanical aptitude of a singer are his cutter though Fisherman does not concur and his sled, and you have already heard section and paragraph from the Flight Engineer on that score. Havent you? Killashandra regarded him stolidly for a few moments, then remembered to chew what was in her mouth. Overheard him, she said, with a malicious grin. Dont try to distract me from this Optherian business. Im not. I am bringing to your notice the several overt disadvantages to an assignment that involves a long absence from Ballybran for what might, in the long run, be inadequate compensation. His expression changed subtly. Id rather not be professionally at odds with you. It interferes with my private life. His dark eyes caught hers. He reached for her hands, lips curved in the one-sided smile that she found so affecting. She no longer canon digital sports camera shared a table with her Guild Master but with Lanzecki the man. The alteration pleased her. On numerous occasions, during sleepless nights in the Milekey Ranges, she had fondly remembered their love-making. Now, seated opposite the charismatic Lanzecki, she found that her appetite for more than food had been completely restored. Her smile answered his and together they rose from the little table and headed for the sleeping room. Chapter 2 Killashandra pushed herself back from the terminal and, balancing on the base of her spine, stretched arms and legs as far from her body as bone and tendon permitted. She had spent the morning immersed in the Optherian entry of the Encyclopedia Galactica. Once she had got past the initial exploration and evaluation report to the release of the Ophiuchine planet for colonization, and the high-flown language of its charter to establish a colony of Mankind in complete harmony with the ecological balance of his adopted planet: to ensure the propagation thereon of the Species in its pure, unadulterated Form. She kept waiting for the fly to appear in the syrupy ointment of Optherias honey pot. Optheria was an old planet in geological terms. A near-circular orbit about an aging sun produced a temperate clime. There was little seasonal change since the axial wobble was negligible, and modest glaciers capped both poles. Optheria was inordinately proud of its self-sufficiency in a civilization where many planets were so deeply in debt to mercantile satellites that they were almost charged for the atmosphere that encapsulated them. Optherian imports were minimal with the exception of tourists seeking to enjoy the gentler pleasures of old Terra in a Totally Natural World. Killashandra, reading with an eye to hidden significances, paused to consider the implications. Although her experience with planets had been limited to two Fuerte, her planet of origin, and Ballybran, she knew enough of how worlds wagged to sense the iron idealism that probably supported the Optherian propaganda. She tapped a question and frowned at the negative answer: Optherias Charter Signers were not proselytizers of a religious sect nor did Optheria recognize a federal church. As many worlds had been colonized for idealist forms of government, religiously or secularly oriented, as for purely commercial considerations. The guiding principle of foundation

Go drink it in beer or wine."

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 "O thine apparel is good," he said, 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

"Then give me soon thy coat of gray,

the Alpenkorps, tough, dogged, skilful soldiers, soldiers living only for the revenge of their massacred comrades, were very close behind. And they were highly-trained mountain troops, fresh, resilient, the reservoir of their energies barely tapped: whereas his own tiny band, worn out from continuous days and sleepless nights of labour and action. . . . Mallory sank to the ground near the angled turn of the ravine where he could keep look out, glanced at the others with a deceptive casualness that marked his cheerless assessment of what he saw. As a fighting unit they were in a pretty bad way. Both Panayis and Brown were badly crippled, the latter's face grey with pain. For the first time since leaving Alexandria, Casey Brown was apathetic, listless and quite indifferent to everything: this Mallory took as a very bad sign. Nor was Brown helped by the heavy transmitter still strapped to his backwith point-blank truculence he had ignored Mallory's categorical order to abandon it. Louki was tired, and looked it: his physique, Mallory realised now, was no match for his spirit, for the infectious smile that never left his face, for the panache of that magnificently upswept moustache that contrasted so oddly with the sad, tired eyes above. Miller, like himself, was tired, but, like himself, could keep on being tired for a long time yet. And Stevens was still conscious, but even in the twilit gloom of the canyon floor his face looked curiously transparent, while the nails, lips and eyelids were drained of blood. And Andrea, who had carried him up and down all these killing canyon trackswhere there had been tracksfor almost two interminable hours, looked as he always did: immutable, indestructible. Mallory shook his head, fished out a cigarette, made to strike a light, remembered the planes still cruising overhead and threw the match away. Idly his gaze travelled north along the canyon and he slowly stiffened, the unlit cigarette crumpling and shredding between his fingers. This ravine bore no resemblance to any of the others through which they had so far passedit was broader, dead straight, at least' three times as long and, as far as he could see in the twilight, the far end was blocked off by an almost vertical wall. "Louki!" Mallory was on his feet now, all weariness forgotten. "Do you know where you are. Do you know this place?" "But certainly, Major!" Louki was hurt. "Have I not told you that Panayis and I, in the days of our youth" "But this is a cul-de-sac, a dead-end!" Mallory protested. "We're boxed in, man, we're review best digital camera fastest shutter trapped!" "So? The Major does not trust Louki, is that it?" He grinned again, relented, patted the wall by his side. "Panayis and I, we have been working this way all afternoon. Along this wall there are many caves. One of them leads through to another valley that leads down to the coast road." "I see, I see." Relief washing through his mind, Mallory sank down on the ground again. "And where does this other valley come out?" "Just across the strait from Maidos." "How far from the town?" "About five miles, Major, maybe six. Not more." "Fine, fine! And you're sure you can find this cave?" "A hundred years from now and my head in a goatskin bag!" Louki boasted. "Fair enough!" Even as he spoke, Mallory catapulted himself violently to one side, twisted in midair to avoid falling across Stevens and crashed heavily into the wall between Andrea and Miller. In a moment of unthinking carelessness he had exposed himself to view from the ravine they had just combed: the burst of machine-gun fire from its lower enda hundred and fifty yards away at the mosthad almost blown his head off. Even as it was, the left shoulder of his jacket had been torn away, the shell just grazing his shoulder. Miller was already kneeling by his side, fingering the gash, running a gently exploratory band across his back. "Careless, damn careless," Mallory murmured. "But I didn't think they were so close." He didn't feel as calm as he sounded. If the mouth of that Schineisser had been another sixteenth of an inch to the right, he'd have had no head left now. "Are you all right, boss?" Miller was puzzled. "Did they" "Terrible shots," Mallory assured him cheerfully. "Couldn't hit a barn." He twisted round to look at his shoulder. "I hate to sound heroic, but this really is just a scratch. . . ." He rose easily to his feet, and picked up his gun. "Sorry and all that, gentlemen, but it's time we were on our way again. How far along is this cave, Louki?" Louki rubbed his bristly chin, the smile suddenly gone. He looked quickly at Mallory, then away again. "Louki!" "Yes, yes, Major. The cave." Louki rubbed his chin again. "Well, it is a good way along. In fact, it is at the end," he finished