hing so like the Material would force a revision in the thinking of the entire race. IV His pack, almost empty of broth, was light on his back, allowing Rack to stride along easily. Yet it became evident even before he had gained the eastern bank of the river that he had underestimated the severity of the weather conditions. Pictures of changes in the face of the satellite, which he himself could not see, but for which he had an inner feel, flooded his mind. Soon the new circle would begin and time would bring the abatement of the winter storms. Meanwhile, the outside atmosphere was chilled to a point only slightly above his own body temperature, and the southeasterly movements of the masses of polar air were violent enough to cause Rack's self-confidence to be severely shaken. Already he had been afield longer than ever before, thanks to the store of relatively good air in his valley. However, he had still been gradually using his reserves and now, with the plains of glass stretching endlessly ahead of him, his inventory of his system showed that he did, indeed, have cause for concern. The outside air was totally unbreathable. Not a particle of it was allowed below the lock above his lungs. As he tested it, his gills pumped violently, sending condensed clouds of pure poison swirling out from his neck. In a vain effort to replenish his stores, he scouted up and down the river, but not even at water level could he find clean air. There was nothing for him to do but strike out across the plains and hope for a break in the overcast. He moved at a steady, slow pace designed to make maximum distance at a minimum cost. Fresh, he had crossed the plains in a double picture of a day. Now he would be lucky to be able to set foot on the rocky soil of the eastern side in a discouraging picture of days. He did not fear for his life. Should his very being become endangered, he would call for aid, but only as a last resort. His pride would push him on, and his regard for others would cause him to expend his own life force, rather than call a relatively fragile Power Giver out of her safe retreat into the deadly storms. At the end of the day he had made very little progress, so he pushed on in the darkness of night, guided by his instinctive sense of direction. He paused long enough to finish his broth supply, overeating in an effort to accumulate quick energy for a dash. He jogged on, burning himself, until the first light of dawn glowed weakly through the solid curtain of gases that lay over the plains. Wherever the plains dipped he would bend to test the air near the surface, but the conditions were totally toxic. Later in the day he rested, crouched under his sheet of the Material. He had as far to go as he had come, and beyond the plains he would have to cross the rugged, broken land that stretched for even a greater distance before he approached the nearest establishment. It would be a breach of politeness to break in unannounced on another individual, but life was the important thing and no one would turn him away. Thus he set as his goal the establishment nearest the badlands on the east and prepared himself for the unpleasant task of imposing his needs on another. Under ordinary conditions it would be inexcusable, but, remembering the importance of the object he carried in his pack, he felt justified. He could feel the strain as he moved out, walking with long strides, but more slowly than he would have wished. His scales registered a high amount of projectile emission from the heavy atmosphere. His feet were beginning to know a certain soreness. He did not waste energy in trying to heal them, but saved all his force for fueling his giant heart, that vital organ within him that sent blood swirling through his body to pick up the particles of good air from storage cells. The discomfort he felt was his just punishment for the greed that had caused him to overstay his capacity. Another night found him exhausted and still on the plains. His senses were dulled. He no longer had an exact picture of the remaining distance. Endless plains flowed under his feet. The densest clouds he had ever experienced isolated him within a circle of vision extending scarcely beyond his outstretched arm. It would be interesting to compare notes with Red Earth's Keeper, to see just how many sun circles one would have to look back to find a storm of equal toxicity. He would have a great tale for his offspring. He realized with a start what a strange thought this was for a Healer who had shown no signs of readiness. Perhaps the knowledge of his own mortality had prompted the wayward speculation. He was indeed threatened. For the first time in his life he was in a situation from which his vast endurance, his strength, his own resources, could not extricate him. He admitted it now. He was beyond his own abilities and it was only a question of time before he would have to open his mind and admit his failure to another. Yet, his pride pushed him on. Each step used up his reserves. He slowed to a crawl, but he was determined to make it to the rocks. There, with any luck at all, he would be able to find pockets of usable air. Calling a Power Giver into the thick of the stagnant storm would rob her of a portion of her life and, Power Givers being the most short-lived, fragile beings of the race, he refused to ask such a sacrifice. Pain was signaling the far-reaching waste of his body when his feet encountered something other than the hopeless smoothness of the plains, and for a moment his spirits lifted. He made respectable time into the towering boulders, his sensitive nose seeking air but finding only unusable gases. Even at his pace he was still more than a day's march from the nearest establishment. Above his head the stagnant masses of air began to shift. He could feel the movement on his scales and allowed himself one last hope. If the storm began to blow over, perhaps cool air of a usable purity would come in behind it. He wrapped himself, slowed his metabolism, and went into a state of nearly suspended animation in which his heart beat only occasionally and his mind darkened and slowed. A few good lungfuls of air would give him enough strength to make the establishment. But the movement of the air masses soon ceased—it had been only a local phenomenon. Checking his resources he estimated he could safely wait the coming of a new day. He dropped his heartbeat to the minimum level and, in a state of quasi-death, waited through the long night. His mind held only a token of awareness— a spark of life lying there, banked, waiting to rouse him, waiting to open the gates and send out that last desperate admission of foolishness. As the rising sun dimly lightened the rocks, awareness seeped down through the protective layers of his mind. He stirred. The toxic conditions were still total. A feeling of overwhelming sadness swept him as he opened his mind and sent. Sadness was replaced with horror as he realized the weakness of his signal. He burned the last of his reserve cells, converting the energy into a truly desperate call, knowing even as he lapsed into darkness that he had waited too long. His last awareness was not fear of death, but shock at his miscalculation. His mistake would take one unit of life—it just happened to be his own personal unit—from the pitifully small store of life on the planet. He did not mourn his own loss, but the loss his carelessness had inflicted on the whole. Deep-lying cells were robbed. His extremities were beginning to lose the flexibility of life. His brain was numb, dark, and he was unaware. Nature, sometimes kind, sometimes cruel, spared him the knowledge of his dying. V Since there was no hereafter in Rack's world, he knew, when he felt the caress of good air in his lungs, that he was alive. He lay on an unfamiliar rack, his huge chest pumping at a fast rate, his depleted cells drinking thirstily, his lungs sucking up air at a tremendous rate. He stopped breathing immediately, rolled back his outer lids, found himself in an establishment, and opened his inner eyes to see in the semidarkness. «Thank you,» the thoughts of a Power Giver said. «I was afraid you were going to bankrupt me of air before you awoke.» He was lying under a coverlet which, in the comfort of the establishment, was unnecessary, and, in fact, rather too warm. He threw it off and sat up. The Power Giver was sitting in a chair opposite him. As he swung his legs off the rack, she averted her eyes. He sent abject shame. She negated. «You heard me, then?» he asked. «No. Red Earth sent me. You were out so long he began searching.» «To Red Earth, too, I owe expressions of shame,» he said. She would not look at him. He couldn't blame her. His seemingly foolish behavior had sent her out into the storm. Moreover, he had been unconscious when he entered her establishment, and, as he inhaled the good, Breather-manufactured air, he had involuntarily voided his gills. A small cloud of heavy, poisonous stuff had accumulated along the floor. He bent down and breathed it in, storing it inside his gill sack. He would void it later outside. In cases of dire emergency the niceties were sometimes forgotten, but Rack could not forgive himself for having soiled her private air and for having used an unforgivable amount of it. She would be on short rations until the overworked Breathers made up the deficit. He was deeply in her debt. «There was a reason,» he said. «Yes, I'm sure of that.» Her eyes were still cast down, her inner lids closed. «You're Beautiful Wings the Power Giver?» «Yes.» «Would a small gift repay you even in part for your sacrifice?» He had seen his pack on the floor. He opened it and brought out the precious nugget of hard material. He moved to stand in front of her, hand extended. Astoundingly, her face began to glow through the delicate covering of tiny, bejeweled scales. He found himself looking at her as he had never looked at a Power Giver before, noting her delicate proportions. She was small as Power Givers went, with long, delightfully curved limbs, a slender waist, and a graceful chest on which her bulges, protected by silvery scales, were quite pronounced. He had always been an admirer of the graceful beauty of the Power Givers, but never before had he been so smitten with any one individual. He was suddenly speechless. «It is not necessary,» she sent. «I want you to have it. It is a material of certain scarcity and it would adorn you.» He pictured the beautiful yellow hard material mounted in the Material and lying on her rounded chest. The glow of her face became even more pronounced. It was certainly strange behavior for a sensible Power Giver. But he was also feeling very strange. Was it simply the near brush with death? Even now he could feel the depletion of his resources. His body weight was extremely low. «May I ask how much my rescue hurt you?» He waited politely for her answer. She sent a picture of her condition. He was pleased. She was vibrantly healthy. Apparently her excursion into the storms had cost little. «Fortunately,» she sent, «you moved within a short distance of my establishment.» «Then I insist on your having this.» He pressed the nugget into her hand and the touch electrified him, sending a surge of pure goodness through his body. Alarmed, he stepped back, his eyes falling, his suspicions growing. Now it was his face that glowed through his scales, for in the bulge over his pelvic area the large, protective scales were tinted a dull russet. He knew then why she had covered him, knew why he was looking at her with an interest he had never felt before. He seized the coverlet in agitated haste and draped it over his middle. He sent waves of embarrassment and atonement. «It is merely nature,» she sent. «It's just—it's just—» She went blank. He had exposed himself shamelessly. His state of confusion resulting from his experience was no excuse. When entering the state of readiness, one secluded oneself from polite society and bore the change in solitude until, fully readied, one went in search of a mate. To expose one's first tint to the opposite sex was unforgivable. He could only send regret and ask for forgiveness. «You were unaware,» she said. «I understand.» He closed off, unable to bear his shame. She fingered the nugget of hard material, opening her inner lids to see better. «It is truly beautiful. Is this the justification for your trip?» «Beautiful as it is, no.» He opened his pack and showed her the strange object. She examined it with wonder and looked at him fully for the first time. «What is it?» she asked. «I don't know,» he said. «But my not knowing helps to explain its importance. As you can see, it is not the Material, nor is it anything with which we are familiar in our high state of civilization.» «Is it a thing fallen from the space outside?» she asked. «That again I do not know.» He looked at her and felt a strange, sweet feeling of peace. And in her absorption in examining the object she forgot to hide her own feelings. On the delicate bulges of her chest her scales flowered, opening slightly, as the flower of the slime source opened under the thick, salty waters of the sea. His heart pounded. She was incredibly young. The change should have been sun circles in her future, and yet here was the unmistakable sign. The flowering of her chest bulges was revealed only momentarily before she became aware of the erotic sensation and closed them, glowing furiously. «Beautiful, Beautiful Wings,» he sent, searing her with his emotion. Then, as she recoiled, he eased. «I knew your father, Northern Ice the Healer. In my travels I talked with him often, and I knew you as a child.» «He is dead these several sun circles.» A surge of emotion swept through his body, making his interior go soft and flowing. «I am not mistaken?» he asked, sending a replay of the unconscious flowering of her chest bulges. She answered with a shy negative, and delightfully feminine in her movements, reached for an opaque sheet of the Material with which to cover herself before looking at him. Wild thoughts flooded out of him, thoughts about nature, fate, luck, bringing them together, amazement that she should begin her change so young, pleasure in his picture of her. «Am I truly?» she sent. «Am I truly beautiful?» «Affirmative, affirmative, affirmative,» he sent, repeating his picture of her. «There are many others,» she said. «They do not matter.» «I have heard that a Healer is prone to love the first Power Giver changeling he encounters, but that this love is not necessarily the indication of a wise choice,» she said. «It is true. Our custom will require that I seek.» She closed. He sent one last beautiful picture into her mind and got a grandly complimentary, girlish picture in return. Then the moment was gone. «You are to seek Red Earth's establishment as soon as you are able.» «True,» he said. «I have much to report.» «He was fretful.» «I little doubt that.» «Will you be reprimanded?» «I don't think so. Not when I show him this.» He took the strange object from her hand. «Red Earth, although he won't admit it, is as curious as any Healer.» He read the state of the air in the establishment, monitored the activity of her Breathers, who were working overly hard because of the drain of two sets of lungs. «But I have taken enough of your air. I have ample stores to reach Red Earth's establishment.» «I will take you.» «No!» He was emphatic. He would not allow her to go out into the deadly storm again on his behalf. «I have been so instructed.» «Then we shall disobey,» he said. He allowed himself one more breath of her air, bowed, and left her. As he went out into the lock he sent a picture of his returning. He felt a warm glow in answer. Since his own establishment was nearer than Red Earth's, he jogged, in a homeward direction through the barren landscape, joyous in the feeling of renewed strength. He vented his gills in the lock and entered his establishment, where the air was so rich it made him giddy. He breathed furiously, causing much agitation among his Breathers, and felt his weight build, his chest expand, and his tired, empty cells fatten. Refreshed, he started out again through the dark, thick storm, dressed now in the loincloth of readiness. Beautiful Wings' coverlet, used during the trip from her establishment, was cleaned and ready to be returned to her, a task he hoped to perform in the very near future. He made the march to Red Earth's establishment in short time, feeling only a slight drain on his reserves, so fat was he with air. He announced his arrival, was admitted to the lock, vented his gills, shook the ash of the outside from his scales, and sneaked a look at the russet bulge i