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"I'll ask Crimson about a headstone," Stephen Thomas said. "And Infinity will know something to plant."

The crystal glowed black against the drying surface of the disturbed earth. "Goodbye, Feral."

Nerno's chrysalis pulsed gently for hours. It shuddered violently. J.D. sat forward, staring intently at the LTM transmission, enlarging it. The chrysalis hardened into a solid shell, an abalone turned inside out, swirled and knotted with iridescent blue and green mother of pearl.

Nerno's nest grew quiet and still.

J.D. rested in the window seat of her house, watching the LTM transmission, waiting for Nemo to call her back. The nest drew her. But when she returned, Nemo would die.

She felt so strange. Ever since inhaling the link en-

hancer, she had disconnected from her body as if she were drunk. Arachne informed her that the reaction was within the tolerable range of effects. "Tolerable for you," J.D. said aloud. Arachne, of course, did not reply. Starfarer's computer did not engage in rhetorical conversations.

Getting the metabolic enhancer was so easy, she thought. After a couple of days, a couple of biocontrol sessions, I could already call on more energy. I thought enhancing the link would be the same.

She shifted her position in the window seat.

Her head spun. The light felt too bright. The light was too bright, but it had not bothered her so much before.

A faint breeze drifted through the open windows. It felt good. The weather was too hot.

Zev crossed the yard, coming from the river, a fish in one hand and J.D.'s string bag in the other. He saw her, grinned, and waved the fish. J.D. waved in return.

He took the steps to the porch in one stride.

"Are you hungry?"

"I am," she said. That was a difference from being drunk. If she were drunk, she would not be interested in food.

He came into the living room and sat down at the other side of the window seat. He offered her the fish.

"Zev . . . I'd like to cook it, if you don't mind."

She tried to get up. She nearly ran into the LTM display.

Whoops, she thought, bad manners!

She giggled, blinked the display out of her way and reappeared it at arm's length.

Her knees shook. A wave of heat passed up her face. She began to sweat. She sat back down.

Zev watched her with alarm.

"Maybe I won't cook it," she said.

"I'll cook it," Zev said.

"You'll cook it?"

"Sure. We do, sometimes."

"You never did when I was with the divers."

"It was summer."

"Oh." I guess that explains it, J.D. thought, wishing her head would clear.

Zev handed her an orange from the bag.

"Eat that while I cook. There's not very much growing that's ripe yet, it's too early. But there's lots of oranges."

"You didn't have to forage," J.D. said. "I'm sure the central cafeteria has plenty of supplies."

"I guess," Zev said doubtfully. "But I went by, and nobody's there to ask. It was easiest to go fishing."

He took the fish into the kitchen nook. J.D. lay back in the window seat, enjoying the unusual occasion of having someone make lunch for her.

"That smells terrific, Zev."

She peeled the orange and ate a section. She pressed the spicules against the roof of her mouth; they burst, and the sweet, tart juice flowed over her tongue.

To her relief, her head stopped spinning. She did not much like the sensation of being drunk, of having the world whirl around while she stayed still.

She suddenly groaned.

"Did I really say that to Stephen Thomas?" she said in distress.

"Say what to Stephen Thomas?"

"That his hair was down."

"You did say that." Zev joined her, carrying two plates of broiled trout. "Oh, no."

"His hair was down, what's wrong with telling him? You ought to tell him to cut it."

J.D. touched Zev's pale hair fondly. It was short enough to stay out of his eyes when he swam, long enough to fan out around his head when he was in the water.

"I think he likes it long," she said.

Zev rested his head against her hand, then quickly kissed her palm.

"I think you like him," Zev said. He handed her one of the plates. J.D. gave him part of the orange.

"Of course I like him. I like Victoria and Satoshi, too."

She thought she had mastered her reaction to Stephen Thomas. She did not want to talk about it. In her present state, she would say more than she meant to.

She could say it all to Zev. He would find it perfectly comprehensible and natural. Except for her reluctance to admit how she felt. He would find it so natural that he would probably tell Stephen Thomas. J.D. could see nothing coming from that but embarrassment all around.

She took a bite of the fish. It was perfectly cooked; the flakes evaporated in her mouth.

"This is wonderful," she said to Zev. "What did I ever do without you?"

He grinned. "You were an ordinary human being before you met me," he said. "And I was an ordinary diver."

Infinity showed Professor Thanthavong what he had found in the administration building. She called the assistant chancellor.

Gerald Hernminge arrived a few minutes later. He hesitated halfway down the stairs, then strode purposefully the rest of the way to the basement. Infinity explained what had happened. As Gerald listened, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"How can we remedy this?" Thanthavong asked, her voice sharp. "How could the chancellor do something so stupid, so petty-"

"Please don't yell at me, professor," Gerald Hemminge said. He looked as unhappy as she did. He glanced across the dark basement, over the heads of the artificials, toward the shadowed corners. "I didn't know Chancellor Blades had done this. I would have stopped him if I could."

"We may have to get along without them," Thanthavong said. "Regrowing the brains . . . that may take

resources we can't spare. We'll have to do their work ourselves."

Gerald made a sound of satisfaction, and a wry grin cut through his distress.

"It will amuse me to see Stephen Thomas Gregory beating his shirts against a rock in a stream."

"You and Stephen Thomas should put aside your differences," Thanthavong said. "The expedition can't afford them."

"I would if he would. It won't hurt him to do his own laundry. He has too high an opinion of himself, and his provocative manner-"

11 He has a right to his high opinion," Thanthavong said. "He's a talented young man. My observation is that you provoke each other."

"It isn't just the laundry," Infinity said, feeling provoked himself. Thanthavong and Gerald stopped their back and forth needling. They both looked at Infinity. Gerald had a habit of cocking his head and listening with an expectant, faintly skeptical expression, as if he already knew everything anyone could say to him, as if he were merely waiting to dismiss it.

"The ASes clean up, sure," Infinity said. "But that's just part of keeping everything working. They repair things. They plant the gardens and weed the vegetables and harvest them and cook them-when's the last time you had a hot meal?"

"I've been eating crackers and cheese," Gerald said. "On the run. I haven't used the central cafeteria-are you saying nothing can be cooked?" "I'm saying we'll have to do a lot more work than you think if we can't fix the ASes."

Thanthavong rubbed her chin thoughtfully with one knuckle.

"Somebody's got to grow the food," Infinity said.

"Dig in the dirt?" Gerald said.

"If you want to stay out here longer than the preserved stuff lasts."

"And how long is that?"

"I don't know. Arachne doesn't even know exactly what we came away with and what we left behind-"

"For heaven's sake-"

"Don't blame Infinity," Thanthavong said sharply to Gerald. "I told you Arachne lost backup information in the crashes. Some of this data the web may never even have had. We'll have to take inventory. We'll have to . .