Zara’s here, said Damia gently, waking them. Your ’Dinis are improving rapidly, she added when she sensed their immediate alarm. Come down.

“What time is it?” Kincaid asked, then yawned widely enough to pop his jaw hinge, stretching his long body.

“Late afternoon, Iota time,” Laria said, struggling to lift herself on one elbow to glance out her window and check the way the shadows fell on the hillside. Odd to be waking in her own bed, with Kincaid beside her. Odd, but nice.

“I feel like I’ve slept the clock round.” He sat up, rubbing a lean and empty belly.

You did, said Zara.

Both shot to their feet, grabbing for clothes they had dumped in a chair after their relaxing swim. Someone must have removed the damp towels which Laria vaguely remembered dropping on the floor on her way to the bed.

You needed it, Zara went on.

Morag and Kaltia? Are they all right? Laria said, hopping on one foot, trying to get the other foot into the trouser leg.

Take it easy. There was a touch of amusement in Zara’s voice. You can bet your bones you’d’ve been awakened sooner if there’d been a need. Dad says they’re doing just great. Blood will tell.

And Nil and Plus... Kincaid put in, with such matching anxiety that Zara’s chuckle echoed in both their heads.

There’re drinks and things ready, Damia added.

Speedily dressing, the two lingered only long enough to visit the bathroom and wash hands and faces before they went downstairs. Laria led the way into the room Kincaid remembered from his previous stay, where a circle of comfortable couches ringed a fireplace. Flames danced on the hearth and they were glad of the warmth by then, more accustomed to Clarf’s heat and not the crisp colder temperature at which this house was generally kept.

Zara was already ensconced on one couch, nibbling a long thin cheese stick. She pointed to the drinks set opposite her and the variety of predinner snacks. “Don’t eat too much. Mother’s got a good dinner to make up for the meals you’ve missed.”

“Tip and Huf?” Laria asked, brooking no further delays.

“And my two?” Kincaid added, but they both sat at Zara’s gesture.

“What I have to tell you is highly confidential. Dad’s out hunting with Ewain, and Petra and Mother have promised not to listen.”

Laria regarded Zara with surprise and a touch of trepidation. She sounded more like her grandmother than her kid sister.

“As head of a team trying to penetrate the mysteries of Mrdini reproduction, I must also be as discreet as possible in my explanations. But to my way of thinking, you’re owed. Your ’Dinis ought not to have been in that hibernatory. And the keeper should have had the sense left to tell you to take them anywhere else.”

“That’s where they usually go,” Laria exclaimed.

“So what happened there?” Kincaid asked.

“A damned fool experiment that any zoobio would have quashed instantly had we known it was planned,” Zara said, biting off the last of her cheese stick as if it were something else. She let out a sigh. Then resettling herself, she turned to Laria and Kincaid and began.

“We’re still not sure what happens or why certain pairs choose each other, or are put together by the keeper for the express purpose of ... creating a new ’Dini life-form ... but Tip would not necessarily be matched with Huf nor Plus with Nil in a hibernatory. Colors are always paired. As we’ve discovered, Human bodies replicate every single cell over a seven-year period. Mrdini”—Zara gave a wry smile—“do it in two months. From what we’ve been able to discern, dead cells in a ’Dini give off an unhealthy chemical ...”

Laria and Kincaid exchanged startled glances, remembering that their ’Dinis had been smelling a little stronger than usual.

“Hmm ... the fools were probably delaying as long as they could then. However, the dead cells give off a pheromone of which one hundred—let’s call them units to give us a scale—is the top. At a concentration of eighty units, they start getting irritable and try to get to the hibernatory to relieve their discomfort. Most ’Dinis wait too long to come to the hibernatory. But I have discovered that those who come early, say when the chemical is at seventy-five units, are less likely to reproduce. If the concentration got over the hundred mark, they’d probably die, but we haven’t confirmed that. You see, what substitutes for hormones or glandular activity or cell renewal and differentiation in their particular physiology, works mainly to rejuvenate them cell by cell. From the extra ’material’ ”—and Zara shrugged, spreading her hands to indicate she couldn’t find a more appropriate word—“generated by this extraordinary osmotic process, a new ’Dini is created—between them, but not in or from them ... between them. The new life could be considered a clone, but not as we understand or use that process: they are created, budded, what have you from the brand-new rejuvenated material of the process the ’Dinis called ‘refreshment’—which is actually quite accurate—and they are a mix of the two Mrdini between whom they are made.

“They gorge themselves with a high-protein, high-mineral complex-carbohydrate substance, the recipe for which is known only to the keepers. We’ve been trying to analyze it, but there are some elements ... Never mind, I digress.” Zara flapped her hand in self-reprimand. “And the air in a hibernatory is not only hot but humid, with a special blend of pheromones. The best analogy is the sort of dream state created by some chemicals ... again a formula zealously guarded by the keepers. I don’t know if the pheromones could be altered to provide contraception. Or if the earlier hibernation will do the trick. Frankly, I think our solution is to find out which of the chemicals used can be left out and not trigger the clone/bud to develop. A sort of abortion, if you will, except that it’s not taking anything as yet ‘live.’ I wouldn’t like to think how many eggs we females produce that never get fertilized.” She shot a grin at Kincaid. “But that would be an appropriate analog. The bad news is that there are some nineteen different components used in the hibernatory incense. The really bad news is that there are no ’Dini-type experimental animals on which we could try any solution before using it on real live ’Dinis.” Zara heaved a big sigh, but that didn’t fool her sister. The ethics of direct experimentation on a life-form they considered their equals would have been anathema to any dedicated medical person. “Then too, the recipe is so old that the keepers don’t remember exactly what the basic elements are, only how to mix and burn it at a steady rate of emissions. So, we’ve set up nineteen different wards, you might call ’em, in Iota’s hibernatory, and thank all the gods that be that it’s such a new facility and we can separate the wards completely. In each ward a different chemical will be omitted, while the rest of the hibernators get the usual incense. When we’ve figured that out, we can decide what chemical to eliminate. One just can’t stop all ‘creation’ without some notice being taken of it in the general ’Dini population.” She grinned. “It’s going to take time. But we will succeed.”

“Reassuring yourself, sis?” Laria asked with an understanding grin. She was still close enough in mental rapport with her sister to catch Zara’s frustration despite the very positive statement of intent.

“Yes, I am,” Zara agreed, much to Laria’s surprise. “What’s so frustrating is the time it’s going to take to be absolutely sure that what happened to your quartet isn’t repeated anywhere else.”

“Did many die?” Kincaid asked.

Zara nodded slowly. Her expression was grim. “Not the best way to reduce excess population.”

“Were any very important ’Dinis lost?” Laria asked.

“Yes, and some whose matches were also lost so they can’t be replaced as Gil and Kat were. No big ’Dinis were involved in the Clarf fiasco. Their hibernations are strictly for the ’refreshment’ aspect of the seclusion. The ‘creative’ stage is quite individual, but the larger the ’Dini, the less it is likely to have enough left of the ‘creative’ material required to produce a juvenile.”

“That’s a lot more than we’ve ever known,” Laria said thoughtfully.

“It took us Humans long enough to learn to control our populations,” Zara said. “We have had many ’Dinis, every color, come forward and agree to be used as anatomical subjects ...”

“What?” Kincaid was no less horrified than Laria, but she was able to voice her objection.

“Well, they don’t leave a corpse, you know.... Oh, you didn’t know? Since they evolved on such a hot planet, they have a water-regulating physiology, reacting to osmotic pressure. So they sort of turn to mush when the physiology shuts down at death, the cells rupture and essentially the body disintegrates. Unless they are immediately used—ooops ... Well, let’s not get into the archaic tradition of ‘going on the line.’ They are rendered unconscious but have to be used immediately or immersed in a solution of the right liquids until they are used. None of us like the idea of ... operating on a live entity ... and keep hoping we won’t be forced to that expedient.” Her face had turned as pale as theirs. She went on more briskly. “They do have an entirely different attitude toward death. You both know that from the history of suicide raids on the Hiver spheres. They were convinced that they, as themselves, would be re-created. As Gil and Kat were.”

“But to dissect a live ’Dini ...” Laria could not continue, shaking her head in repugnance.

“I’ve learned a lot more about Mrdinis since I started this assignment, Laria,” Zara said, in the most solemn and respectful tone Laria had ever heard from her younger sister. “And since we’re seeing it more and more as a pheromone problem, we won’t need to do biological dissections. Ooops, sorry. You’re looking very green, Lar.”

“Exactly what is happening to our friends?” Kincaid said anxiously.

“We’re refreshing them. They’re in separate tubs, to get the full benefit of that osmotic therapy, and in the same room. At the rate they’re absorbing the substance, they should be physically fit again in about three more weeks. You were smart to get them here as fast as you did. I’ve made arrangements with the head keeper to allow you to come and see them whenever you wish. They’re not really conscious right now, but they’ll know you’re there.”

“Three weeks?” Laria was alarmed. There was no way she could be absent from Clarf that long.

“There’s not a thing that prevents us from coming back as often as we’re needed,” Kincaid said, a reassuring hand squeezing Laria’s knee.

Clarf’s Tower Prime rolled her eyes as she realized that he was right.

“You’ve had a shock, sis,” Zara said. Then she shook a finger at them. “You’re not to wear yourselves out—not with the time distortion between Iota Aurigae and Clarf. You especially, Laria.” Her finger settled warningly. “Not”—she smiled, “that I’m not delighted.”

“You looked?” Laria was perversely annoyed at her sister’s knowledge of her pregnancy.

Zara guffawed. “Honey, the change didn’t require me to look any farther than the glow in your skin and a certain shine in the eye that many pregnant women develop.”

Laria turned to Kincaid. “Do I look that different?”

“If I say yes, you’ll thump me,” Kincaid replied with mock fear, pretending to recoil from her wrath.

“Would not!”

“Then you’ve mellowed, sis,” was Zara’s tart response. “You’re built right for having babies, unlike the Rowan, but take it easy—as easy as possible,” she corrected herself immediately, “in Tower work. Give Morag more of the merges. She can handle anything. And it wouldn’t hurt Kaltia to take a few either. They’re well able to do it after their apprenticeship here, even if they are technically too young to be full Primes.” She grinned. “Just as if I had the say in the matter.” Okay to join us, Mother, Dad.

Damia and Afra did, Damia carrying a tray of hot canapés.

“You shouldn’t’ve let us sleep so long,” Laria began.

“After your sister the healer said you obviously both needed it?” Damia replied, raising an eyebrow in reproof. “We’ve checked with the girls and they’re coping superbly.”

“Though they do feel,” Afra added, “that not every single relative of the many they have—bar Thian and Rojer, who probably are unaware of the circumstances at Clarf Tower—needs to check in on an hourly basis.”

“Lionasha would let us know,” Laria started, sharing what she also considered an affront to the capabilities of the pair, as well as a tacit criticism of herself.

Kincaid gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. “Where are all the other ’Dinis I know live here?”

Zara chuckled. “The adults are all taking turns nursing your lot, and the young are out with Ewain and Petra, hunting. Eat!” She pointed imperiously at the tray Damia now presented to them.

“I’d sort of looked forward to hunting,” Kincaid remarked in mild disappointment.

“You can hunt all day tomorrow if you want ...” Damia began.

“Only after we’ve seen our friends,” Laria said.

“You can come in with me after dinner,” Zara said. “They’ll be lucid enough to know you’re nearby.”

“Lucid?” Every ounce of Laria’s anxiety returned.

“Because”—Afra sat himself down on the other side of his distressed eldest daughter—“they’re swimming in a nutrient fluid and so surfeited with regenerative substances that they’re not likely to make much sense.”

Laria wasn’t sure she found that description any more reassuring.

I wouldn’t lie to you, Lar, Zara said, passing her cheese sticks. “Don’t you like them anymore?”

Well, that’s nicer than reminding me I’m eating for two.

You haven’t even started that.

“Enough,” Damia said.

“Why, Mom? Can’t you read us?” Zara grinned, reverting to her gamine and younger self.

“There’s a level at which you two can communicate that excludes us,” Afra admitted as Damia hesitated. He looked directly at Kincaid. “The sort of level that develops between two people who are often in merge and rapport. Morag and Kaltia, being so close in age, have that facility. So do Ewain and Petra. Thian could go in either direction, to you, Laria, or to Rojer. But clearly”—he waved the cheese stick he was eating from Zara to Laria—“the girls can activate the old sideslip at will.”

“Sideslip?” Kincaid asked. “Is it limited to siblings and couples?”

Damia shrugged. “I doubt it. It works when it works.”

Afra chuckled, deep down in his chest. “Jeff has often remarked that he can’t say anything that your mother doesn’t hear.”

“And you, Afra Lyon?” asked Damia, cocking her head at her mate of twenty-seven years.

Afra merely smiled. “That’s for me to know and you to find out!”

“Why, you ornery yellow-eyed Capellan—”

“Kitchen timer’s ringing, Mother,” Zara said, pointing.

“Oh Lord ...” Damia moved so quickly she might as well have ’ported.

“Do you, Dad?” Zara asked in a whisper.

Afra’s response was another chuckle.

“Oh, you!” she exclaimed in disgust when he refused to answer.

The clatter of horses’ hooves, yells from jubilant hunters, provided an additional distraction.

“I can’t believe Ewain and Petra hunt for the family now,” Laria said, rising.

“They’re pretty good at it too,” Afra said, unfolding his long frame. He peered out the window. “They’ll need help.”

Which the young hunters did, their horses laden with avians and scurriers.

“Did you bring me in any fresh greens and tubers?” Zara demanded, her expression somewhat censorious as she watched the unpacking.

“Sure, sis.” Ewain tossed her a sack that had been tied to the front of his saddle. “Not much at this time of the year, but there’s enough for your needs.”

In the absence of any of the family Mrdinis that enjoyed helping in the kitchen, the Humans all pitched in, Kincaid electing to dress down the carcasses outside the back door. Avians particularly were best eaten fresh and the scurriers lightly grilled. Vegetables were prepared, and with so many to help, dinner was ready in a very short space of time: a dinner to which Laria and Kincaid did full justice.

“You three go on now,” Damia said. “We’ll clean up ...” She included Ewain and Petra.

“Aw, Ma, we hunted,” complained Petra. “And I’ve studies...”

“You may ’port to save time,” Damia said, “but don’t you dare show off or break a single dish.”

Zara beckoned for Laria and Kincaid to exit quietly before Ewain could start his protests.

Zara did not park the airsled in front of the entrance, but swung around back, landing on a ledge that apparently had been built for discreet and private use. Two other small craft were parked. Zara neatly took the single remaining empty space. Emerging, Laria and Kincaid could see no visible entry.

Zara grinned. “They’ve left nothing to chance,” she said, and walked right up to the apparently seamless rock. She touched something and instantly a door opened outward. She ducked inside, for the lintel was low, gesturing urgently for Laria and Kincaid to enter quickly. The door shut and Laria felt her ears pop.

Zara turned on a wrist light. “I know the way, but it’s narrow and I don’t want you falling.”

Laria caught the unusual odor and had to cram a finger under her nose to keep from sneezing. Then she became conscious of the incredibly humid heat.

Her wrist light showed them the door and they followed close enough that they nearly stumbled in their effort to enter. The panel slid shut so fast it just missed Kincaid’s heels. They were on the landing of a flight of stairs, lit from a brighter light below, and Zara led the way down to yet another door. This opened into a laboratory of considerable size, filled with smells that made Laria very nauseous—those pheromones Zara had been talking about? There were busy Humans and ’Dinis, diligently peering into microscopes or other instruments at their workstations. Zara’s entry with her companions was noted only briefly by those they passed.

“Your ’Dinis are in the private infirmary.” Zara pointed to her right, to the side aisle in which closed doors were unevenly spaced. “Third one on the left.” Again a swift parting and then closing of the door. LR AND KNCD HERE NOW, she said, pointing to a viewing window that gave onto a dimly lit inner room.

Instantly a panel slid aside and her parents’ two ’Dinis, Tri and Fok, emerged. As they embraced her, their heads at her shoulder level, Laria was immediately surprised at how much larger they’d become.

YOU ARE SO BIG NOW, she exclaimed, leaning only slightly down to hold them tightly against her. THANK YOU FOR HELPING TLP AND HGF.

AND NPL AND PLS, Kincaid added. spreading his fingers on their shoulders.

THEY DO BETTER NOW, Fok told Kincaid, turning to hold out its flipper and squeeze Dano’s hand firmly. SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN TAKEN THERE IN FIRST PLACE. WHY WERE YOU NOT TOLD?

WE DON’T KNOW WHY, Laria said. THEY NEEDED TO GO AND DID NOT ASK TO BE TAKEN UNTIL WE REALIZED THEY HAD TO GO.

Tri looked up at Laria, its poll eye unblinking. CAN GUESS.

GUESS WHAT, TRI? Laria insisted.

YOU SEE THEM NOW, Tri said, and pulled her with it. YOU TOO, KNCD.

Then they were inside the dim room and could make out the four tanks, smell the astringent odor of the fluid in which their ’Dinis were floating. There were other odors mixed in with astringency, as well as traces of the strong smell that had assailed them as they entered the hibernatory.

Despite the immersion of her friends almost to the poll eyes, Laria had no trouble identifying Tip and Huf, and knelt between their tanks, reaching out to stroke the sides of their heads, below the poll eyes.

WE HAVE MISSED YOU AS MUCH AS WE WOULD MISS OUR HEARTS, Kincaid murmured, one hand on each ’Dini’s neck.

BETTER NOW, Nil muttered in a voice just barely above a whisper.

OH TIP, HUF, WE ARE HERE FOR YOU. Laria felt Zara touch her mind with reassurance and great affection.

MUCH BETTER, SINCE NOT SILLY NOW AND DO AS TOLD, Tri said quite firmly, coming around the tank to its head and emptying a small pail of something whose fumes came . close to making Laria gag. She felt Zara instantly depress the reaction.

YOU SLEEP, SLEEP WELL, Huf said, before Fok emptied a pail into its tank and a second wave of nausea nearly overwhelmed Laria.

YOU COULD HAVE WAITED, FOK, TRI, Zara said with some impatience.

CANNOT WAIT, Fok said, trotting off, empty pail swinging in its hand. EXACT ON TIME IS IMPORTANT. YOU BRING THEM BACK BETWEEN PAILS. ENOUGH FOR NOW. SHORT VISIT BEST.

They have seen you and felt your touch and love, Zara said, putting a hand under Laria’s arm and lifting her up.

Kincaid rose too, swallowing convulsively. His reaction made Laria feel less weak-stomached.

It affects all Humans that way, Zara said drolly as she pushed them toward the door. “But it’s always good to breathe fresh air again,” she added as they were once more in the anteroom. OH, THERE YOU ARE, she added to the four ’Dinis who were sitting on stools. THESE HAVE GROWN TOO, SO YOU MAY NOT RECOGNIZE EWAIN’S VTL AND BFR AND PETRA’S JN AND THV.

IT IS GOOD TO MEET THE FRIENDS OF MY BROTHER AND SISTER, Laria said, executing a bow appropriate to young ’Dinis. THIS IS KNCD, WHOM YOU MAY NOT REMEMBER.

WE KNOW NIL AND PLUS AND HELP ALL WE CAN, Vtl replied, bowing more deeply.

WE ARE MORE GRATEFUL THAN WE CAN EVER EXPRESS AT THE CARE AND ATTENTION YOU ALL ARE GIVING OUR SICK FRIENDS, Kincaid said, and his bow was deeper than Laria’s. Vtl was almost embarrassed, and Thv, the youngest of them all, slid quietly behind Jn.

DO NOT BE EMBARRASSED BY THE GOODWILL OF KNCD, Zara told them. OTHERWISE HE WOULD BE WITHOUT HIS FRIENDS, AND YOU KNOW HOW PAINFUL THAT IS.

WE DO. All four of the young ’Dinis now bowed as deeply as Kincaid had.

Laria was still experiencing nausea and she could see the odd greenish tinge to Kincaid’s face.

EXCUSE US, GOOD MRDINI FRIENDS. WE LEAVE, Zara said, and ’ported all of them out to the clear, crisp cold air of the ledge.

Laria leaned weakly against the airsled while Kincaid stood, inhaling and exhaling in deep drafts.

“That’s the best way to clear your lungs,” Zara said. “I’m so used to the stenches that I don’t even smell them anymore.”

“You mean”—Kincaid pointed to the solid cliff—“you can get used to that smell?”

“I’ve smelled a lot worse lately,” Zara said with a wry smile. “C‘mon, Laria, climb into that sled before you fall in. They’ve seen you, you’ve seen them and Flkm and Trpl have reassured you. Those two could have waited until you’d left before they slopped your ’Dinis again,” she added irritably.

“Are they getting even with us then, for not taking good care of ours?” Laria wanted to know, carefully fastening the seat belt since she still felt woozy. She heard Kincaid’s belt click too.

“No, just being officious. They’re actually enjoying the celebrity they’ve acquired by being able to effect a rapid improvement.”

“How many did die at Clarf?”

“Too many.” It was obvious to Laria from Zara’s tone that she was not going to give statistics. “The very young and the oldest. The midage group seemed to have more resilience and are responding to treatment.”

“The same ours are getting?”

Zara nodded, flying carefully around the back of the hibernatory. Of that Laria was just as glad, for the route they’d taken on the way in had required some dips and veerings that she was not certain her innards could have handled.

“I’ll give you something for nausea when we get home,” Zara said kindly. “The big if,” she went on in a grim voice, “is whether or not your friends—and the other survivors— will be able to create again. So essentially we have two diametrically opposite problems to solve: contraception and restoration of the creative function.”

“And?” Kincaid asked gently.

Zara gave a shrug. “If we succeed in finding which pheromones can be withdrawn to provide contraception, the top Mrdini will be happy. We’ll try to concentrate on the majority. We’ll do the best we can on the other.”

With that to mull over, no one spoke on the flight back. Zara parked the sled but before the other two could descend, she offered Laria a shot glass with a pale green liquid in it. “Drink. Then go watch the sunset. That’s as much a part of restoring your equilibrium as the potion.” She shooed them off toward the steps that led up to the little garden created especially to view the sinking sun of Iota Aurigae.

“Fiasco, not disaster. You can prevent fiascoes,” Vanteer grumbled from his engineering station.

The official story spread by Mrdini keepers was that power had failed at the hibernatory and all attempts by the keeper to repair the damage had been in vain, causing the death of 405 of the 789 using the facility. Very few knew that this had been an attempt to interrupt conception. On Clarf, of course, everyone knew that one did not interrupt hibernation and the keeper had been overly confident in its ability to cope with the emergency. By the time it admitted failure, the damage was done. Top technicians from other Mrdini planets were called in to restore power and cleanse the building. If a discreet new facility was added on one of the upper ranks, it escaped notice in the general confusion of repair. The head keeper and its staff were permanently reduced to menial rank. Three—the oldest, who had also been head keeper, and its two immediate subordinates—went into an osmotic failure and turned into mush. From old age, it was said. Whatever their shortcomings were, their records had been meticulously kept so that it was known which pairings should be repeated to restore many of the lost Mrdinis. When the next group of ’Dinis arrived for their two months’ hibernation, an entirely new, younger management was in charge: the new head keeper had just finished advanced training on Iota Aurigae.

Very few off Clarf in fact knew that substitute personnel were in charge of the Tower for nearly three weeks. The assignment of a third hot planet, a mere two light-years away from Clariflor, to relieve the overburdened Mrdini homeworlds provided an additional distraction. Other Primes receiving or sending material to Clarf were too busy to query any minor differences they might have discerned in ‘porting techniques. Quick to learn and already well versed in Tower protocol, the Lyon sisters got the hang of the workload within four days. Morag and Kaltia were quite as diligent in the performance of their duties as Laria had been. To share the learning experience as well as the loads they were having to ’port, they took turns being the merge mind. Lionasha was punctilious about serving them the restorative drink and they had youth as well as innate strength to support their heavy duties.

Lionasha took it into her head that Laria would have introduced the girls around, and seen that they enjoyed the social life of the Human Compound. She told Vanteer quite bluntly that he would have to act as their male escort. Mrdinis worked longer hours than most Humans—considering their hibernation as their vacation—but Prime Towers kept to the normal Star League eight-hour working day with two rest days in seven.

“You can do what you like the five other nights, but those girls are not going to be immured in the Tower.” she said, so firmly that Vanteer did not argue. “They’re going to Sixth Day dances and the vid nights, and if they meet someone whom you and I both consider proper, they have every right to enjoy a night off. They aren’t nunnies, or whatever hermits were called.”

“Nuns,” Kaltia corrected, having been silently cheering Lionasha on in recruiting Vanteer as escort. While the Human society on Clarf was conducted in a relaxed attitude, neither girl had reached adult status. As juveniles on a foreign world, they ought to be properly accompanied. Lionasha did not mention Vanteer’s reputation, but she would be along to ensure the proprieties.

“Actually, I think she meant ‘nannies,’ but they didn’t have much fun either,” Morag said, looking forward to meeting new people, dancing and having some fun.

“All work is wrong,” Lionasha told Vanteer. “We need a break and so do they. So, because Laria and Kincaid are far too occupied with Tower management, we’ll escort the girls. It’d be damned funny if they weren’t allowed out of here now and then, you know.”

To that Vanteer had to agree.

So they escorted their charges to functions in the air-conditioned Human Compound. Lionasha took them shopping—Tower personnel had the advantage of knowing in advance if there was anything worth looking at—and both Lionasha and Vanteer escorted them to the dance evenings. The girls were good dancers and rarely sat out. They had the good sense to make themselves as popular with their own sex in the intervals, especially when they tipped the girls off to special imports. They also dropped little clues to support the fiction that they were on an apprenticeship level: Morag moaned a bit at how hard it was to keep track of all the message tubes. Kaltia fretted about getting chapped hands from the cleanser that removed the grease of Clarf’s generators.

“We were sent here to learn Tower management, and we are,” Morag said, with such sincerity that Lionasha had all she could do not to laugh at her long-suffering pose. “Sis may be strict, but I can’t fault her for that.”

Although they admitted to Talent, they were careful not to mention their actual rank, intimating that they were destined for less glamorous positions than Primes. If any of the more knowledgeable from Terra had suspicions, they kept silent. Since the girls were Primes, they deftly, and shamelessly, used that advantage in ’pathing just enough from the minds of those they met to take the right attitude that would lead to friendly, rather than envious, relationships.

“Well, we never look below the public mind,” Morag admitted to Lionasha and Vanteer. “But we can’t afford to make mistakes with Humans or ’Dinis. We only read surface stuff. That’s usually more than enough when people are out to have fun.” Morag grinned. “They are under the distinct impression that I am training with you, Lionasha, and Kaltia’s getting some hands-on experience with the station generators.”

“Yeah, I heard you talking to Scott Attenboro,” Vanteer said with reluctant admiration. “You know more than he does about station generators.”

“We both do,” Kaltia said flatly. “Xexo trained us, you know.”

“He did?” Vanteer’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t think he’d let anyone touch his generators.” The Iota Aurigae engineer was a legend in his specialty.

Several times Morag and Kaltia made courtesy calls at the Clarf homes of their ’Dinis’ colors and gained much favor from their impeccable manners to the elder ’Dinis. Sim and Dar, who were gray, and Kev and Su, who were blues, consequently enjoyed more prestige in their color houses.

When the sisters were asked about the absence of Laria, they had ready answers: “Sis is pretty tired right now with all the traffic. You’d think half the planet was emigrating.” “She and Dano have to do some Tower adjustments.” “There’s a huge shipment to go tomorrow and we’re even going to have to help.”

To the amusement of all three women, Vanteer took a very responsible attitude about which males he’d introduce to the sisters. If he was the victim of some joking about chaperoning, he ignored it.

“He’s almost worse than Dad,” Morag complained. “He practically hauled that gorgeous Leonard Perutz away from me, and all Leonard wanted was a dance.”

“Ha! That one!” Lionasha said. “And if he hadn’t kept Perutz away from you, I would have, and a thump for being so stupid.”

“But he’s so handsome,” Kaltia said with a wistful sigh.

“And about as trustworthy as ... as ...” An appropriate comparison failed Lionasha. “Laria won’t acknowledge him whenever he’s sent here as a troubleshooter. If she snubs him, you will too. Don’t ask the other girls about him either. Ignore him.”

“Oh!” Morag and Kaltia exchanged thoughtful glances and sighed in unison. Lionasha went on. “Now, young Vince Studebaker may not have Perutz’s looks or charm, but he’s a good dancer, as funny as ’Dinis on a mud slide and worth much more of your attention than Perutz.”

“I danced with him, and you’re right, Lio, he’s quick on his feet and he is very funny. He’s got some of the most hilarious jokes. Nice ones too.”

“Just take it from me, girls, and if Vanteer cuts you out from a partner, he knows what he’s doing.”

“Even if we’re wrecking his game?” Morag said with a wicked glint in her eyes.

“We both promised Laria we’d take care of you. Frankly, I think I like Van the better for being so vigilant. Takes one to know one.” Then Lionasha chuckled, her tawny eyes twinkling. “Though it’s good Laria and Kincaid are due back. The strain on Vanteer’s beginning to show.”

“They’re much better, much better,” Laria said, dropping to her knees to embrace the other Tower ’Dinis clamoring for news of their friends. “We’ve missed you all. We’re so glad to be back.”

“Not any gladder than Van will be,” Lionasha said, winking at Laria. I’ll tell you later.

“Are we expected to go right back to Iota, Lar?” Morag asked, her expression anxious. “I’ve met this real neat guy...” Over Morag’s head, Laria caught Lionasha’s approving nod. “Vince Studebaker, and there’s a fancy dress ball next Sixth Day ...”

“You’ll be stuck here awhile longer, girls,” Laria said. “I might even have to send one of you to help Yoshuk and Nesrun at Sef Tower with all that has to go to that latest planet that’s been released. Jeff routed quite a bit of heavy stuff through Iota rather than overload you.”

“Overload us! Why, the nerve of Grandfather,” Morag said, outraged.

Laria laughed, hugging her sister. “You tell him. I won’t. Now, fill us in, will you, girls, Lio, and where’s Vanteer?”

“He’ll be along at real dawn, Laria. He’s been more help than you could possibly imagine.” Lionasha’s straight face was belied by the gleam in her eyes.

“Kept all the no-no’s from dancing with us, even Perutz!”

Laria’s expression froze and she stared at Lionasha. “If that man got...”

“Not with Van acting chaperone, he didn’t,” Lionasha said, grinning.

Laria’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Turned over a new leaf, has our Van?”

“Not likely.” Lio gave a snort and then smiled. “But he was damned sure he wasn’t going to be blamed for any incidents. As far as the Human society of Clarf is concerned, your sisters were here to learn the lower grades of Tower management.”

“Well done, kids,” Laria said, hugging her sisters once more.

“Hey, you two look a lot better,” Lionasha said. “Like you got enough sleep or had a vacation.”

“We had both, actually,” Laria said. “Mother and Dad wouldn’t let us near the Tower ...”

“Not with Beliakin there, I’ll bet.” Lionasha said in an acid tone.

Laria grinned. “We never saw him once. He had to report to Blundell about that wretched Clarissia. He cleared himself of any suspicion.” She paused, with a little smile on her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Mom and Dad didn’t sort of ... well ... adjust his general attitude.”

“That couldn’t hurt,” Lionasha said, glancing over at Kincaid, who grinned back.

“Somehow I don’t think he’ll stay long, now he’s had such good experience at Iota.” Laria smothered a grin. “But you know how valuable strong T-2’s are right now. Grandfather’s sure to put him in some crucial position. Not that their replacement will be anywhere near the kinetic Beliakin seems to be. Mother said Gollee’s description of him is ‘very young and so eager to learn he’s almost pathetic.’ Kobold von something or other. Well, if Mom can trim down Beliakin’s amazing ego, maybe she can build this little fellow’s up.”

“Kobold von Gruy? So he developed, did he? He comes from my city,” Kincaid said with an odd smile, “so he’d have to overcome the odd ideas about Talent prevalent where we come from.”

Laria gave Kincaid a quick look and laid her hand briefly on his arm. Lionasha had trouble repressing the questions those brief, and intimate, gestures provoked. She turned away to go get breakfast started.

“He’ll do fine with Mother and Dad to sort of ease him into Tower work,” Laria said.

“Didja hunt much?” Kaltia asked, so eagerly that it was obvious she missed that task.

“Indeed we did. In fact, I think that between us Kincaid and I finally hunted out that valley of mine.”

“Can’t be done,” Kaltia argued.

“Kincaid here”—once again Laria touched the T-2’s arm—“gets full honors for bagging the most every time we went out, wherever we went. Ewain was disgusted.”

“He would be,” Kaltia said with a snort. “But when do you get your ’Dinis back?”

I’ll tell you what I can later, Laria said.

“Zara’s still at Iota?” Morag asked, though she already knew the answer.

Laria nodded. “And likely to be for some time. She’s done great work and pulled our ’Dinis round.” Then her face lost all expression. “Did we lose many we know?”

Returning with a tray of hot drinks, Lionasha nodded sadly. “I knew twenty, and Van knew another half-dozen. Some eighty of Huf’s main house died and thirty of Tip’s.”

“Morag and Kaltia made appropriate visits to the color houses, since their own ’Dinis wished to express condolence.”

“We will too, of course,” Laria said. “It was all so needless.” Abruptly, she took a sip of the hot drink and then stepped over to Lionasha’s workstation. “Have we much for the morning? You two”—she pointed at her sisters—“have the day off.”

“That’s fine by us,” Morag said, “because there were some real neat fashions shipped in from Earth that should be on display and I need something new to wear. We didn’t bring half enough good things with us. You coming too, Kaltia?”

Laria looked queringly at Lionasha and was reassured by Lio’s dismissive wave.

“That pair know Clarf from hither to thither, Laria. Don’t worry about them,” Lionasha said. “Now, I don’t want you to lose all the good the holiday did you, so if the girls’ll stay long enough to help ’port in the heavy machinery, it’d ease you back into the routine.”

“Shops don’t open until late morning,” Morag said.

“Sure, don’t want to lose my touch,” was Kaltia’s reaction.

“That’s most unlikely,” Laria said, ’pathing her pride in her sisters.

Lyon’s Pride, Kincaid added, mischief twinkling in his eyes.