She awoke in a private hospital room, medbot at her side, feeling absurdly happy, floating, dreamy, between crisp white sheets. Once, she thought, Sedon came in and looked at her, but her awareness of the event while it happened, and her memory of it afterward, were fragmented and disjointed, like brightly colored memories of early childhood.

She awoke, sometime later, to a depression so black it was like the end of the world, to a numbness that made her feel as though she had been wrapped in cotton.

The glowpaint in her hospital room had been turned off. Nothing but the monitor lights on the medbot at her bedside gave any light at all.

She sat up slowly, looking around the room. Even for her it was difficult to make out much; a blob of something off to her left. The room felt small, the echoes of an enclosed place.

They had dressed her in a hospital gown and nothing else.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, felt for the ground somewhere in the darkness beneath her.

The 'bot said, "May I be of service, 'Selle Daimara?"

Her voice was scratchy from disuse. "How long have I been here?"

"I do not know, 'Selle Daimara."

"What's the date?"

"Tuesday, July 7, 'Selle Daimara." The 'bot paused, then added, "Four-forty-three a.m."

Bits and pieces of it returned to her-the long tumble through the darkness, as her air grew more and more foul. Something about a ship, men in pressure suits; the Chandler Estate coming apart around them.

Giggling while they shaved the remnants of her hair from her skull. Smiling while they interrogated her.

Truth plates cold against her neck.

She reached up and ran a hand across her skull. A soft fuzz covered it. " 'Bot, where is this place?"

"I do not have that information, 'Selle Daimara."

"What was wrong with me?"

"You suffered from radiation poisoning, anoxia, and heat prostration. Blood vessels in your eyes and ears had burst; you experienced vacuum bruises across much of the surface of your body."

"How am I now?"

"The radiation poisoning has not resulted in significant damage to tissue; the anoxia does not appear to have caused neurological damage; the heat prostration and vacuum damage were minor."

Denice raised her voice."Command, lights up."

Nothing; the room was not keyed to respond to her. " 'Bot, what services can I request of you?"

"The delivery of food and drink; you can request medical services, but I will likely deny them; I have been instructed to apply skepticism to any request you make of me. That is all."

"Can you call someone for me?"

"No, 'Selle Daimara."

She stood. In the darkness, her balance felt badly off. A slow, sliding step forward, and then another, hands outstretched. A wall. She followed the wall, came to a corner, followed that wall to a door. She searched for the doorpad, found none. It confirmed her suspicions; the "room" was a cell with a medbot.

Follow the wall further- She found a toilet in the corner.

Denice returned to her bed, removed the gown, and sat down, in lotus, in the center of the bed. If the 'bot wouldn't tell her what she needed to know, if she couldn't leave by normal means, she could still go look around.

She slowed her breathing, slowed her heartbeat, and- -did nothing.

She whispered it. "What have you done to me?"

The medbot said, "We have healed you, 'Selle Daimara."

The glowpaint came on abruptly, scaled up in a fraction of a second to a bright yellow glow.

" Bot, what time is it?"

"Six a.m., 'Selle Daimara."

Denice waited, restlessly, watching the door. Shortly before eight it curled aside.

The man who stepped through was middle-aged, fit, man with rugged good looks, in civilian clothes. In the corridor outside, before the door unrolled shut, she caught sight of a man and woman in paramilitary fatigues, carrying laser rifles.

The man did not seem to notice her nudity. He seated himself in the memory plastic chair that extruded itself from the floor, said, "Good morning, Denice."

"Who are you?"

"My name doesn't matter, I think. I'm your doctor."

Denice nodded. She'd stayed nude intentionally; it didn't bother her, and she had hoped it might distract whoever came to get her. Not this one, not if he was really a doctor. "I have to call you something."

"Hmm. Doctor Derek."

"Uh-"

"Yes?"

"Isn't he a character on one of the soaps?"

Doctor Derek blushed. "Yes."

"Okay," said Denice slowly. "Things keep getting stranger and stranger every time I turn around. I suppose a doctor from a soap Board isn't too bad. I mean-"

"Yes?"

"All considered," Denice finished.

Doctor Derek smiled at her. "That's the spirit."

"So. What have you done to me, Doctor Derek?"

He did not misunderstand her. "When we interrogated you, you told us that when you were drunk, the Castanaveras Gift shut itself down. We tried several different painkillers, until we found one that would both work and not enrage your nanovirus vaccine."

"That simple."

Doctor Derek shrugged. "Mister Obodi's suggestion. Quite a brilliant man, actually."

"It's not permanent? The 'bot said I'd been 'healed'-"

He shook his head gently. "No, I think you misunderstood the 'bot. We haven't permanently altered any aspect of your physiology or metabolism. When we cease administering the drug, you should regain the Gift."

Until that moment, as the relief washed through her, Denice had not realized how frightened she was.

She had to pause a moment before continuing. "Who else knows about me?"

He frowned. "Your presence? Lord, dozens-"

"Who knows who I am?"

"Oh." He studied her silently for a moment. "Myself and Obodi, to my knowledge. We were the only ones present when you were interrogated. But he might have told others. I really wouldn't know."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Where am I?"

"I see no harm in telling you that. You're in San Diego. This cell is in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Latham Building."

"What's going on in the world outside?"

Doctor Derek paused, thinking back. "Hmm. You've been out of it since-let's see. Okay. j.a.pan declared independence, you'd know that. We-the Rebs, I mean, you're in Reb hands obviously-we moved on the Fourth. I'm told things are going well, but honestly I wouldn't know; I'm just a doctor, and most of the war news is need-to-know. We've taken most of the West Coast; the PKF has recovered a big chunk of Los Angeles, though. Commissioner Vance dropped eleven hundred-odd SBs onto Santa Monica late on the Fourth; took us pretty badly by surprise. Our intelligence had said they were going to roll down on us from the north, and we weren't prepared to fight to keep L.A. the very day we took it.

We've actually had to evacuate operations in L.A. I'm told we still hold the city-downtown, mostly because the Claw is making a stand there at the downtown Temples-but that won't last much longer."

"Casualties?"

He hesitated. "I don't know. Bad, on both sides. Maybe fifty thousand dead PKF, I've heard, but that's a guess. Could be twice that. It's not much less. Apparently we've killed a couple of dozen Elite as well."

"On our side?"

He shook his head. "Bad. Civilian deaths included, just in L.A. we lost maybe half a million, maybe a million-" He shook his head again, wearily. "Bad. They used tacnukes a couple of times. I don't have any numbers. We laid X-laser down all over Paris after they used the tacs; they haven't done it again.

Thirty or forty thousand dead in Paris."

"You're being very blunt, Doctor."

"I haven't been told not to be."

"Where are my companions?"

Doctor Derek shook his head. "I don't know who you mean."

"Robert Yo, he's American, j.a.panese descent. Short, fiftyish-"

The doctor was nodding. "I've seen him. He was suffering from radiation poisoning when they brought him in, almost as bad as you. They pulled him in only an hour before they found you. I haven't seen him in several days; apparently he's being confined. I believe he's healthy."

"William Devane, he's a newsdancer. Big guy, black hair, black eyes."

"He's with you?"

"Yes."

The doctor looked briefly disturbed. "Sorry. I didn't know that."

"What's wrong?"

"Apparently," said Doctor Derek carefully, "Mister Obodi doesn't care for him."

"Is he dead?"

Doctor Derek hesitated, looked straight at her. "Close enough for government work."

Denice ordered her thoughts. It got easier as they went on; the Gift was gone, but otherwise she seemed to be in command of herself. The painkiller, whatever it was, did not seem to have reduced her sensitivity to sensation; and as for pain, she didn't hurt, so either she was unharmed or it was the painkiller. "Okay.

How about my brother?"

Denice saw she had surprised the man. "Ah-" He shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't know your brother was here."

"I don't know he is, just that he's with Sedon."

"Who?"

"Gi'Suei'Obodi'Sedon. Mister Obodi. He has my brother."

Doctor Derek shook his head. "I have not seen him."

"Okay. What happens to me?"

"You eat breakfast," he said promptly. "We'll bring you any clothing you request, within reason; and then we're going to take you up to the fourth floor. There's a health club up there."

"A what?"

He seemed slightly apologetic. "A health club. Sports Connection, I believe. Swimming pool, track, free weights, muscle stims, I don't know what else; until we took the building over the club was open to the public. Since then I don't think it's been used."

Denice said clearly, "I'm supposed to work out?"

"Yes. Loosen up, stretch, get your muscles back in tone. Not that you're not in fairly remarkable shape right now, but both Mister Obodi and your gene map suggest you're capable of better. You work out today, tomorrow, and Thursday. Thursday night," the doctor said, "you'll be taken to Mister Obodi." He was embarra.s.sed now. "He wants you to dance for him."

Denice was the only one who used the health club; aside from her it was completely empty. Four male guards armed with needlers, and a hunting waldo, followed her everywhere she went, even the showers.

The hunting waldo in particular was never more than a few meters away from her. She knew that she could, given a few seconds to work, kill the four guards; but the waldo was another matter. If any of the guards had been carrying lasers, she might have gambled on taking out the guards, and then turning the laser on the waldo.

But not bare-handed.