"Pol." His voice was softer now. "Do your old cla.s.smate a favor and surrender. I told you-a quick death. If you're thinking about escaping, forget it. Even if you did, you would be hunted. You cannot live without a name; you know that. You can't buy food or anything else. And if you're caught on the streets you'll be shot. Surrender to me."

Pol's flesh moved through the brambles more readily than the cloth of his uniform. Still, hooks caught and tiny pieces of him ripped out-here, there-as he moved on his belly over the frozen earth. The pain was stinging, worsening as his own sweat salted the wounds. But the pain inside him overshadowed it like a guillotine over a switchblade.

The brackish, polluted water of the stream came into view.

His hands and arms were in front of him, crawling. At the water's edge he stopped and stared at those bleeding arms, hands. What a tableau they made with the icy ground and filthy water.

"Pol."Gyde's voice a caress.

Pol slipped into the water and let it take him away.

20.5. Seventy-Thirty Jill Talcott

Jill managed to get Cargha to take her to the s.p.a.ceport in the air car. He had relatively little tolerance for pleading. The tarmac was hot and bright with a mid-sky sun when they landed, and Nate was a tiny figure next to the scale of the ship. He was lying just under its monstrous red-lacquered belly. He wasn't moving.

Jill ran to him, somehow managing to reach him despite the fact that she could hardly breathe. His white T-shirt was burned away over his stomach and underneath was a black-and-red wound about the diameter of a grapefruit, centered in the soft flesh of his belly.

His face was still and utterly white. His long black lashes, two crescents sweetly resting on his cheeks, cut her heart neatly in two.

She dropped to her knees, next to his body, and had the distinct realization that her life was over, that some vital part of herself, one that was far more interesting and important and wonderful than any other part of her, had just been shut down forever. A feeling of pressure, intense and painful and suffocating, built and built inside her. Then she sucked in a gigantic gasp of air and expelled it with a choked wail that turned into racking, heaving sobs. The sobs shook her entire frame, each one coming out so hard, and so fast, that it pushed out the one in front of it violently, like an army of warriors leaving the womb.

Her fingers clutched blindly at his ruined shirt. She could not see for the tears, could not hear for the wails coming out of her mouth. Something had finally broken inside Jill Talcott, and she felt emotion now all right; she felt it all. Too late.

Or maybe not. Someone was touching her arm, some cold-but living-hand, a human hand, Nate.

She tried furiously to clear her eyes. Through veils of salt water and swollen lids, she saw him looking up at her-pale and obviously in pain, but alive all the same and even looking rather amazed at her display.

"Jill.Shhhh. It's okay."

She stared at his bloodied stomach in surprise and began ripping back the T-shirt fabric. The laser wound was ugly and wide, but it was not all that deep. She could see what looked like cauterized skin and even muscle. It was a terrible wound, but it was possible that it hadn't penetrated to his internal organs. He might live.

Cargha was standing beside her, watching her with the absorbed, faintly repulsed expression of a scientist studying the mating rituals of weird bugs.

"Point-oh-five-seven millimeters," he said. "That's the depth required to kill azerdot . This cannot be construed as a failure, because it must be statistically impossible thatzerdots would mutate within the next two-point-two million years to the point where . . ."

Jill tuned him out. Her sobs had subsided to the point where she could almost breathe again, but there was a heaviness deep inside her chest. Nate was rubbing her arm, his teeth gritted tight in pain.

"You know," he told her shakily, "people always wonder what it would be like to be at their own funeral. Well, I guess I just found out. Freaky." Despite his words, there was something new in his eyes-a recognition of what her tears had meant, a question.

"Oh, Nate!"

She collapsed beside him, lying down next to him right there on the asphalt. He turned his head to look at her.

"Hurts like a son of a b.i.t.c.h," he confided.

"Oh, sweetie, I know."

She reached up a hand to stroke his face, that amazingly beautiful face. His expression changed as she touched him; his eyes darkened. She couldn't bear that look in his eyes, never had been able to bear it, but this time, instead of turning away, she turned into it. What freedom, to allow herself to turn into it! She kissed him.

"Nate." She said it for the pleasure of acknowledging that it was really him. His lips were so soft it was like drowning, and his kiss was as sweet as she remembered-G.o.d! The nights she had lain awake not wanting to remember! She kissed him with every bit as much intensity and abandon as she had felt in her grief.

When she finally released his mouth he groaned and pushed her away with a quivering laugh. "Jesus. Have you ever tried having a jonesand a six-inch hole in your abdomen? There's a definite conflict of interest going on down there."

"Oh G.o.d, I'm sorry!" She felt herself go red. "Cargha, we need to get Nate inside,now . And we'll need painkillers, and antiseptic."

Cargha was still observing them with mild disgust. His lids came down over the goo on his eyes. " 'Painkiller.' Curious idea. It is very much a dark planet concept. We do not require such things. This injury is easily remedied by rea.s.sembling the energy of the tissues. There are repair devices in most of the facilities. If you go-"

"You'll take us to the nearest facility in the car.Now. "

She started to get up, preparing to help Nate to his feet. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Jill. Just promise me one thing."

"You're going to be fine," she rea.s.sured him, giving him a brave smile. Now that he'd stopped her getting up, her fingers were unable to resist the texture of his hair. "You heard him. And don't forget, this planet is lucky."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Nate said, giving her a smoky look. "But that's not what I meant. Promise me-"

"I don't care about the wave technology," she insisted. "Really, Nate, you've been right about this whole thing. I think wecan get back to Earth, but when we do-"

"Jill!" he interrupted, impatiently.

"What, Nate?" Her fingers, which found playing with his hairmuch more satisfying than playing with each other, were now exploring the baby soft skin on his neck. How on earth had she resisted this temptation for the past two years? What kind of m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t did that? It was like starving to death in a room laid with a gourmet feast-a gourmet feast that was trying its d.a.m.nedest to leap down your throat. She must have been mad.

"I want you topromise ," Nate said, "that as soon as we fix this hole in my stomach, which will hopefully be in the next five minutes, because it really does sting like a b.i.t.c.h, you'll kiss me like that again. In private. For about a year."

"Mmmm," Jill said, feeling herself melt.

Cargha sighed.

Book Three

Synthesis

The wordemet (

), meaning "truth", begins with a.n.a.lef ( ), the first letter of the alphabet, and ends with atav ( ), the last letter. Thus, the "end is imbedded in the beginning." This is accomplished through themem ( ), the middle letter of the alphabet." [thesis, ant.i.thesis, synthesis]

-the sage Abulafia, as quoted inSefer Yetzirah , presixth century, translation by Aryeh Kaplan, 1990 AUSCHWITZ LATEOCTOBER.

The woods were silent. The only light was the begrudging dregs of a half moon. If there had been activity here recently, men in long coats wandering in and out-sc.r.a.ping bark, studying the ground, taking soil samples-you would not know it now. The trees, silvery gray, slept the long sleep of fibrous things. Nocturnal insects trapped lesser insects; small mammals with night-glow eyes tracked them in turn and had their own deep fear of talons and swooping wings. The higher order of man was absent, leaving the woods to simpler, though not necessarily more innocent, rhythms.

But not for long. Without warning, a miniature sun erupted in the middle of the clearing. It burst into being with a noise like crackling thunder and a flash of light so intense it blinded several of the creatures who chanced to look upon it.

Everything in the vicinity fled. There was only silence as the light faded, growing bluer and bluer, merging with the darkness. The outline of five figures materialized.

Jill blinked into the light, trying to get her bearings. She wasn't dead, at least she didn't think so, and it didn't feel like her legs had replaced her arms or her lungs had turned inside out or anything else of that nature.

She groped around and found a hand-Nate. She grasped it, panicking for a moment with worry. But he squeezed her back, rea.s.suring, whole. Relief made her knees weak. Her feet felt pinned to the ground.

Gravity.It felt so strong-too strong to be Earth? Or was she simply unaccustomed to it?

She closed her eyes against the stinging light and when she reopened them it was better. To her left she could make out the silhouette of Nate, his head turned toward her. Farther away, in a wide circle, were three others. It was like watching a film negative develop. There was . . . yes, the rabbi, on her right, with his full beard, rubbing his eyes. And next was . . . Denton Wyle, tall and slim, his arms held out as if to catch himself, already aware enough to be astonished. And the last . . .

The last figure was farthest from her and she could just make out a well-made masculine shape, tight, heavy clothes. Who . . . ?

"For the love of G.o.d, what's happened?" The rabbi found his voice first. Jill tried to speak and had difficulty moving her mouth. It was as if her brain were trying to reacquaint itself with the engine under its control.

"Rabbi Handalman," she managed, "it's Jill Talcott." "Dr. Talcott?" came a light male voice. "Is that Nate with you? It's Denton." "Yup, it's me, Nate." And still the fifth figure did not speak. The light had continued to dim, moment by moment, and now Jill could make out Nate's features.

He was looking around and then he looked at her and smiled-not a big smile, he was not quite in

control of himself enough for that, but it was big in intent. It said,We did it. We're home . She tried to verify that herself, squinting beyond him to make out trees, tall and black against the bluish light. She looked straight up above her and saw a familiar moon. The coldness and the scent of the air penetrated her senses. She breathed it in, her nostrils growing brittle, exhaled to see a plume of mist.

"Is this Earth?" came the rabbi's voice, hopeful, trembling. "It's not possible. . . . Is it?" "We're back where we started, Rabbi," Nate said. "At least, that was the general idea." "Youdid this?" Denton sounded delighted. Jill squeezed Nate's hand, hard. She was staring at the fifth figure across the clearing. At first she had the irrational idea that there'd been some crossed wires in time, that they'd plucked some random stranger out of the ether accidentally. For there he stood, becoming clearer by the moment- a muscular form in heavy dark clothes, close-cropped blond hair, stern, square, craggy face.

The man was staring ather . He stood stiffly, arms at his side, face struggling with . . . fear?

Confusion? Rage?

Denton found his legs and took a shaky step, going over to the rabbi and grabbing him in a bear hug, to which the rabbi said, "Oooff!"

"Jill? That's not Anatoli. Who is it?" Nate asked in a quiet voice.

His question, at last, triggered a memory, a memory aided by the cold white-blue eyes coming into focus. Only they weren't cold now; they were burning, staring ather . "Oh, G.o.d," she muttered. She saw the same recognition on his face, at the same instant. And then he moved, fluidly, taking a step back and going into a wide stance. Denton and Rabbi Handalman were chatting, oblivious, as the man brought up his hands, revealing the presence of a heavy old-fashioned handgun. He pointed at Jill.

"Freeze!" he screamed, his voice loud and rich with emotion. He aimed the gun from one to another of them as Denton and the rabbi turned to regard him with surprise. "Into a line-move!" He motioned with the gun.

Jill shared a look with Nate-a look of frustration and hopelessness that they had come back all this way only to be captured so easily and so soon. But the four of them did as they were told, moving into a line. Rabbi Handalman was on her right.

"Who is this?" the rabbi demanded. "What's going on?"

Jill shook her head tightly and spoke to the gunman: "It's all right. You're back home now."

"Yeah, take it easy," Denton said soothingly.

Nate was still holding her hand, trying to draw her toward him, behind him, to protect her. She resisted. If this was anyone's battle it was hers.

The man with the gun continued to swing it from one of them to another, staring especially at her and Nate. His widely planted legs were shaking so badly it was a miracle they held him up. The woods were now coming into sharp focus around them and his eyes darted here and there as if trying to get his bearings. In the last of the fading light his face was white, covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He was panicked, Jill realized, completely and utterly out of his head. He might do anything. And for the first time she was genuinely afraid.

"Lieutenant Farris?" she said in a loud, soothing voice. "Are you ill? Could you please lower the gun?"

With great deliberation he straightened his body and pointed the gun, in one extended hand, right at her head. The intention on his face was murderous. And then those white-blue eyes rolled back and Calder Farris collapsed into a dead faint.

They debated what to do with Farris's unconscious body for several minutes. Denton was cold, freezing his a.s.s off cold, and he knew they had to find shelter soon. Nate and Jill wanted to take Farris with them. Apparently, he was an agent with the Department of Defense, someone Jill had met before. Denton wasn't sure why they would want to drag around a man who was out for their blood, but it was certainly possible that if they left him alone he would freeze to death.

The four of them formed a square, carrying the man like pallbearers. Jill's short stature tilted the burden in her direction and Denton had to walk with his knees bent. And he was dressed for ninety-degree weather, so there was nothing between him and the frigid air but a pair of jeans and sandals. All in all, it was excruciatingly uncomfortable, not to mention a nice, sharp dose of fifty-fifty reality. Welcome home!

Yet nothing-not the pain in his knees or the ice forming between his teeth-could touch Denton's elation. They wereback ; they were honest-to-G.o.d, no-freaking-way back. He didn't knowhow it had happened, but he figured there was an explanation, technical as h.e.l.l, and he'd hear it eventually. For now, he was busy calculating all the nifty stuff he was going to be able to do, imminently, like eat ice cream and watch the tube for about a week solid. And then there were, oh,women .

At that thought he felt a twinge of conscience. He and Eyanna never had hooked up, and he'd remained celibate the last few months in Khashta. He didn't want to slip back into his old ways now. But he knew that was not going to happen; he would never be that person again. In fact, it would be interesting to find out who hewould be now that he was back on his home turf.

They took more wrong turns than they needed to. Just about the time all of them were utterly exhausted, they saw lights through the trees. They followed the lights until they saw a tiny house. They paused at the edge of the woods, dropping their burden none too gently.

"This is Anatoli Nikolai's house?" the rabbi prompted, breathing hard. "Does anyone remember?"

"It could be," Nate said, squinting through the darkness.

It had been a long time-for all of them. But Denton had spent more time in the house than any of the others.

"I'll check," he volunteered. He slipped away toward the house and heard someone come after him. He turned to see Nate's dark head. The young man smiled.

"Backup," he whispered.

Denton's heart warmed and he returned the smile. He was back among his own kind and it felt prettyamazing . He gave Nate's shoulder a squeeze.

On the right side of the back wall a window was lit up. They crept closer, sticking to the shadows, and peeked inside. It was Anatoli's kitchen. Denton remembered the tiny table and tinier chairs, the stove so old it had a propane tank on the side, the dinged wooden clock on the wall with the painting of the little PolishMadchen .

Sitting at the table, sipping cups of tea, were two men. One was medium-sized, with dark hair and a young, conservative face. The other was a huge guy who could have doubled as a professional wrestler. They both wore plain white b.u.t.ton-down shirts, dark pants, and ties. They had crew cuts and there was a mirror-shiny polish on their thick-soled shoes. Nate pulled Denton backward. They exchanged a grim look.

Anatoli?Nate mouthed. Denton nodded.

They made their way around the house, peering into darkened windows. On the second window they tried, something blocked their view-an X shape made by boards nailed to the inside of the frame. Nate peered into one of the openings left by the boards and Denton another. The hall door had been left open a few inches, allowing light into the room. Directly beneath the window was a bed, which appeared to be occupied, but the light and the angle made it impossible to see who or what might be in it.

Still, Denton knew it was Anatoli. He felt a surge of anger. Those goons had better not have hurt the old man.

Nate tugged on his sleeve and the two of them dodged through the shadows back to the others. The big guy was still lying on the ground as heavily as a manikin made out of cement.

"Well?" the rabbi asked.

"It's Anatoli's place all right," Denton answered, "and I think he's in there. But he has company. Two military types are in the house. They have him locked up in one of the bedrooms."