So for a good old-gentlemanly vice,

lid and examined it closely. What are you looking for, Killa? Blood! Did you see any discoloration on the shards you handled? No If Camgail was killed by, and he gestured at the newly placed crystal spires, there would have been blood somewhere here! Was there only the official version of Comgails end? No. I had a chance to speak with one of the infirmary attendants and she said that he was covered in blood, crystal fragments had pierced eyes, face, and chest. With a little help, perhaps? But do you know for certain that it was Comgail who shattered the manual? Lars nodded slowly, his eyes gray and bleak, his face expressionless. And he had mentioned earlier that he knew the access to the subliminal units was through the organ loft? Again Lars nodded and both stared at the wall. Comgail did all the maintenance on the Festival organ? At Larss impassive nod, Killashandra scrubbed at her face with one hand. Did Ampris ever compose or perform? she asked in angry exasperation. The look of total surprise on Larss face gave her the answer. No wonder hes been bouncing about here, Lars cried, seizing Killashandra and hugging her with the excess of his jubilation. No wonder hes been so eager to get the manual repaired. He cant get to the subliminal units until it is. He cant alter the subliminals for this years concerts. Oh, Killa! Youve done it. Not quite, Killashandra said with a laugh. Im only hypothesizing that the manual provides the unlocking mechanism. Weve no idea what sort of music key hed use. It could be anything No, not anything, Lars cried, shaking his head and grinning, his eyes vividly blue again. Id stake my life I know what hed use I wish you wouldnt use a phrase like that, Killashandra murmured. Lars gave her a reassuring grin and went on. Remember what you said about bureaucracy finding one mechanism that suited them? Well, Ampriss one and only Festival offering utilizes a recurrent theme. But everyone on the planet would know it then. What difference would that make? Youd still have to have access to this manual, wouldnt you? True. Whats the theme? Its a real thumpety-dump, and he da-da-ed the notes camera digital dsc h sony to Killashandras utter amazement. Not only is it thumpty-dumpety-dump, its complete and utter plagiarism. Ampris lifted that theme from an 18th Century composer named Beethoven. Who? Killashandra lifted her hands in exasperation. Enough of this idle speculation, Lars, weve got to finish the organ as fast as possible. What about Trag? Killashandra shook her head. Trag is no threat to us. If we could just get the bass noted finished, wed have something to show him. I hope. She dropped a set of brackets into Larss hands and took another for herself. You wouldnt happen to know the signature of Ampriss composition? When Lars shook his head, she cursed briefly and then began to chuckle. Well just try the original one! Because they were rushing, nervous with anticipation and hope, hands sweating from tension, it seemed to take three or four attempts to place each of the next three crystals. Lars was muttering imprecations by the time Killashandra could test the third one. No sooner had she struck the crystal than the door panel slid open and the aperture was filled by Trags bulky figure. Trag, I bless your timely arrival. Were both fingers and thumbs trying to set this manual. A fresh hand and a sane mind will work wonders! Trag gave her a nod of his head and stepped inside, giving Lars a cursory glance before his attention was completely taken by a critical appraisal of their endeavors. Killashandra ignored the entrance of Ampris, Torkes, Thyrol, and Mirbethan, who filed slowly into the room in Trags wake. Trag picked up the tuning hammer and struck each of the crystals. Trag merely nodded his head. Lars made a noise of protest but Killashandra shot him a warning glance. The fact that Trag had no comments to make was all the approval she required, knowing better than to expect overt praise from him. For a very fleeting moment, however, she was seized with a totally irrational desire to throw her arms about Trags neck, a notion which she quickly suppressed without revealing it by so much as a grin. Elder Torkes, resembling the scavenger bird more faithfully than ever, seemed about to step forward, then, apparently, changed his mind as if aware of how Trags bulk diminished his stature to insignificance. You have only just arrived, Guildmember, and as it is now midday, refreshment has been prepared for you. Torkes began with scant courtesy. Trag dismissed

They hangd the proud sheriff on that,

shards. If Trag approached with Lars, the device remained silent, so Killashandras theory that crystal resonance confused the detector was correct. But her resonance was gone and, with the imminent arrival of the scout ship, there would be no chance for Trag to usher a few refugees past the security curtain at the shuttleport arch. Fortunately Lars also remembered that Killashandra had disrupted the monitors by singing the crystal fragments. These, resonating discordantly as the wearer hummed, fooled the detector. It was then only a matter of experimentation to discover just what quantity of crystal provided adequate shielding. Perfect pitch was actually a handicap, the more out-of-tune the note, the more the white crystal reacted, and deluded the detector. A week after the attack, Olav had no further excuse to stay at the Conservatory, and left, it was said, for the islands. He had been able to convince the Elders of his determination to send more islanders to the public concerts. Actually, he stayed in the City and made a few minor but important alterations to his appearance. The next day, he reported to Hauness and Nahia in Killashandras suite, bearing documents that proved him to be the qualified empath whom Hauness and Nahia had drafted from their clinic to attend Killashandra. Now that Killashandra was recovering, they wished to return to their other patients in Ironwood. Nahias the one who ought to be leaving, Lars had bitterly objected. Shes the most vulnerable of us all. No, Lars, Trag had said. She is needed here, and she needs to be here for reasons which you might not understand but for which I esteem her. Trags unstinted approval of the woman did much to placate Lars but he told Killashandra that, in leaving, he keenly felt himself the traitor. Then come back with the Revision Force, she said, more than a little irritated by Larss self-reproach on this and other issues. She immediately regretted the suggestion at the look of relief in Larss face. But it was a solution which could resolve many of Larss doubts, especially when she knew he loved his home world and would be happy enough sailing the Pearl Fisher around the islands. She was somewhat relieved that Lars would be happy on Optheria once the government had been changed. The Federation will need people with leadership potential. Trag says it usually takes a full decade before a new provisional government is appointed, much less ratified by the Federation. You might even end up a bureaucrat. Lars snorted derisively. Thats the most unlikely notion youve smart cards for digital cameras had. Not that I wouldnt like to get back here unprejudiced. Id like to make sure the change is going to be beneficial. And ensure that you had official permission to sail about in your beloved islands. She managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice for she could think of many things that a man with Larss abilities and talents could do, once free to move about the galaxy. It rankled that her body was not sufficiently mended to add that argument to verbal ones. Lars was treating her as if she were fragile. He was gentle and affectionate. His caresses, though frequent, were undemanding, leaving her frustrated. He was so solicitous of her comfort that she was frequently tempted to wreak a bit of violence on him. Although her jagged, red scars looked more painful than they were, a lover as considerate as Lars had always been would be reluctant to approach her. The symbiont couldnt work fast enough for her. But would it have repaired her before the scout ship brought them to the Regulus Federation Base? She tried to overcome her desire for Lars and to ignore the fact that time was running out for them both. It was too soon and not soon enough when Mirbethan communicated the imminent arrival of the scout ship, the CS 914. Then she was called upon to witness Trags confrontation of Lars, in the presence of the astonished, and delighted, Elders Ampris and Torkes as the Guildmember, imposing in his righteous indignation and wrath, accused Lars Dahl of infamous acts against the person of Killashandra Ree, and displayed the Federal Warrant. Against Killashandras loud cries of distress and disillusionment over her erstwhile lovers felonies, Ampris and Torkes struggled to contain their exultation over the arrest. Trags timing was superb and his manner so daunting that, with the Federal Scout ship landed in the shuttleport valley, the Elders were left with no option but to permit the arrest and the deportation of their erring citizen. There was no doubt they were delighted, though deprived of the joy of punishing him, that the Federal justice due to be meted out to Lars Dahl would be far more severe than their Charter allowed them. Among the others vindicated by this unexpected climax was Security Officer Blaz, who clamped restraints on Larss wrists with undisguised satisfaction. What was supposed to have been a dignified farewell to their auspicious guests was hastily cancelled by Ampris, waving off the various instructors and

"And mine is ragged and torn;

that the experts thought it was only a nine-inch crunch gun, that the crowding confines of the cave were bound to exaggerate its size. He told himself these things, discounted them: twelve-inch bore if an inch, that gun was the biggest thing he had ever seen. Big? Heavens above, it was gigantic! The fools, the blind, crazy fools who had sent the Sybaris out against these . . . The train of thought was lost, abruptly. Mallory stood quite still, one hand resting against the massive gun carrIage, and tried to recall the sound that had jerked him back to the present. Immobile, he listened for it again, eyes closed the better to hear, but the sound did not come again, and suddenly he knew that it was no sound at all but the absence of sound that had cut through his thoughts, triggered off some unconscious warning bell. The night was suddenly very silent, very stifi: down in the heart of the town the guns had stopped firing. Mallory swore softly to himself. He had already spent far too much time daydreaming, and time was running short. It must be running shortAndrea had withdrawn, it was only a matter of time until the Germans discovered that they had been duped. And then they would come runningand there was no doubt where they would come. Swiftly Mallory shrugged out of his rucksack, pulled out the hundred-foot wire-cored rope coiled inside. Their emergency escape routewhatever else he did he must make sure of that. The rope looped round his arm, he moved forward cautiously, seeking a belay but had only taken three steps when his right knee-cap struck something hard and unyielding. He checked the exclamation of pain, investigated the obstacle with his free hand, realised immediately what it wasan iron railing stretched waist-high across the mouth of the cave. Of course! There had been bound to be something like this, some barrier to prevent people from falling over the edge, especially in the darkness of the night. He hadn't been able to pick it up with the binoculars from the carob grove that afternoon close though it was to the entrance, it had been concealed in the gloom of the cave. But he should have thought of it. Quickly Mallory felt his way along to the left, to the very end of the railing, crossed it, tied the rope securely to the base of the vertical stanchion next to the wall, paid out the rope as he moved gingerly to the lip of the cave mouth. And then, almost at once, he was there and there was nothing below his probing foot but a hundred and twenty feet of sheer drop to the land-locked digital camera smallest thin shopzilla com harbour of Navarone. Away to his right was a dark, formless blur lying on the water, a blur that might have been Cape Demirci: straight ahead, across the darkly velvet sheen of the Maidos Straits, he could see the twinkle of far-away lightsit was a measure of the enemy's confidence that they permitted these lights at all, or, more likely, these fisher cottages were useful as a bearing marker for the guns at night: and to the left, surprisingly near, barely thirty feet away in a horizontal plane, but far below the level where he was standing, he could see the jutting end of the outside wall of the fortress where it abutted on the cliff, the roofs of the houses on the west side of the square beyond that, and, beyond that again, the town itself curving sharply downwards and outwards, to the south first, then to the west, close-girdling and matching the curve of the crescent harbour. Above-but there was nothing to be seen above, that fantastic overhang above blotted out more than half the sky; and below, the darkness was equally impenetrable, the surface of the harbour inky and black as night. There were vessels down there, he knew, Grecian caiques and German launches, but they might have been a thousand miles away for any sign he could see of them. The brief, all encompassing glance had taken barely ten seconds, but Mallory waited no longer. Swiftly he bent down, tied a double bowline in the end of the rope and left it lying on the edge. In an emergency they could kick it out into the darkness. It would be thirty feet short of the water, he estimatedenough to clear any launch or masted caique that might be moving about the harbour. They could drop the rest of the way, maybe a bone-breaking fall on to the deck of a ship, but they would have to risk it. Mallory took one last look down into the Stygian blackness and shivered; he hoped to God that he and Miller wouldn't have to take that way out. Dusty Miller was kneeling on the duckboards by the top of the ladder leading down to the magazine as Mallory came running back up the tunnel, his hands busy with wires, fuses, detonators and explosives. He straightened up as Mallory approached. "I reckon this stuff should keep 'em happy, boss." He set the hands of the clockwork fuse, listened appreciatively to the barely audible hum, then eased himself down the ladder. "In here among the top two rows of cartridges, I thought." "Wherever you say," Mallory acquiesced. "Only