to unfasten her p-suit.

"Yes, but we want you in the tent in case the shuttle has pressure problems . . . unlikely but it's a zoo out there." The medic peeled back her pressure suit section by section; Hazel heard

exclamations from those working on Brun and craned her head, trying to see, just as her attendant peeled the leg sections of the suit and the clothes underneath. "My God-what did they do to them!"

"I think it was the horses," Hazel said. "We rode horses all night."

"Horses! We send a task force halfway across the cluster, and they're getting you out on horses?"

"It makes you really sore," Hazel said. "And the clothes were stiff."

"Barbarians," someone muttered. "Should have spaced the lot of 'em."

Shrike scooped up the shuttle, and medics moved Hazel and Brun into the spacious sickbay. "Regen for you," said the green-coated medic when he'd peeled away the gurney's tent and draped a gown over her. "You'll feel a lot better after an hour-maybe two-in the tank." Hazel wasn't about to argue; she saw that Brun was being led to the other tank. She settled into the warm, soothing liquid, and dozed off.

Brun was furious. They were talking over her head again, as if she weren't there, and no one had thought to get her a voice synthesizer. Three hours aboard, and they continued to treat her like an idiot child.

"She'll need another five hours of regen for those abrasions," one medic said. "And I still think we should order a parasite scan."

Brun reached out, caught hold of his uniform, and yanked hard. He staggered, then turned.

"Are you all right? All right?" He spoke a little too slowly, a little too loudly, as if she might be a deaf child.

Brun shook her head and mimed writing a message.

"Oh-you want to say something?"

Yes, she wanted to say something, something very firm. Instead, she smiled and nodded, and mimed writing again. Finally, someone handed her a pad.

HOW'S ESMAY? she wrote.

"Lieutenant Suiza is fine," the medic said. "Don't worry-you won't have to see her again. It was strictly against orders-"

What were they talking about? Brun grabbed the pad back. I WANT TO SEE HER.

"That's not a good idea," the medic said. "You weren't supposed to see her at all. We understand

how traumatic it was-"

Brun underlined the words I WANT TO SEE HER and shoved the pad back at him.

"But it was all a mistake . . ."

SAVING MY LIFE WAS A MISTAKE? That came out in a scrawl he had to struggle to read.

"No-her being involved. Your father said, under no circumstances should you have to see her, after

what she said about you."

Her father. Rage boiled up. Carefully calm, she printed her message. I DON'T CARE WHAT MY FATHER SAID. ESMAY SAVED MY LIFE. I WANT TO SEE HER. NOW.

"But you can't-you need more time in regen-and besides, what will the captain say?"

She could care what the captain said. Or her father. She had not come back to the real world to be

told she couldn't talk to anyone she pleased, even if she couldn't talk.

"She's getting agitated," someone else said. "Heart rate up, respirations-maybe we should sedate-"

Brun erupted from the bed, ignoring the remaining twinges, and slapping aside the tentative grab

of the first medic. The other one picked up the injector of sedative spray. With a kick she had practiced in secret for months, she smashed it from his hand; it dribbled down the bulkhead. She pointed a minatory finger at the medics, picked up the pad, and tapped the word NOW.

"Good to see you up," came a lazy voice from the entrance. Brun poised to attack, then realized it was Methlin Meharry, whose expression didn't vary as she took in the two medics, the smashed injector, and Brun with the short hospital gown flapping about her thighs. "Giving you trouble, were they? All right boys-out." The medics looked at each other, and Meharry, and wisely chose withdrawal.

Brun held out the pad.

"You want to see Suiza? Why, girl? I thought she trashed you at Copper Mountain, upset you so you ran away home."

Brun shrugged-it doesn't matter-and tapped the pad again.

"Yeah, well, she did save your life, and you saved hers I guess. Or helped. Your father thought

seeing her would be a terrible trauma. If it's not-well, it's your decision." Meharry's mouth quirked. "You might want to put on some clothes, though . . . unless you want her to come down here."

Brun didn't. She was more than ready to get out of sickbay. Resourceful as ever, Meharry quickly found Brun a shipsuit that almost fit. It wasn't quite as soft as the shipsuits Hazel had found on

the station, but it fitted her better.

"Now-it's customary to make a courtesy call on the captain. Since the captain told the lieutenant

not to let you know she was there, and she did-this could be a bit tricky. Just so you know."

Meharry led her through a maze of corridors to a door that had LT. E. SUIZA, EXECUTIVE OFFICER on it. Meharry knocked.

"Come in," Esmay said. When Meharry opened the door, she was half-sitting on her bunk; she looked

pale and tired.

"Brun wants to see you," Meharry said. "She kind of insisted, when the medics wanted to sedate her . . .".

Brun moved past Meharry, and held out the pad on which she'd already scribbled THANK YOU.

Esmay stared at it, then at Brun, brow furrowed. "They don't have a speaker device for you! What are they thinking of!" Esmay looked almost as angry as Brun felt.

THEY'RE WORRIED ABOUT MY STABILITY.

"They ought to be worried about your voice, dammit! This is ridiculous. That should be the first

thing-"

THANK YOU, Brun wrote again. MY FATHER GAVE YOU TROUBLE?

Esmay flushed. "They got the tape of what I said to you that night-and I'm sorry, it really was

insulting-"

YOU WERE RIGHT.

"No-I was angry, that's what. I thought you were stealing Barin-as if he were my property, which

is disgusting of me, but that's how I felt."

YOU LOVE BARIN? That was something that hadn't occurred to her, even in the months of captivity.

Esmay, the cool professional, in love?

"Yes. And you had so much more time, and when I was working I knew you were spending time with him

TALKING ABOUT YOU.

"I didn't know that. Anyway-I said I'm sorry. But they think-they thought-I had something against

you and your family. Your father didn't want me involved in the planning, or with the mission. But that's not the important thing-the important thing is getting you a voice." Esmay thought for a moment. Meharry. Meharry knew everyone and everything, as near as Esmay could tell. If that device on the station had survived, Meharry would know where it was, and if it hadn't, she'd know what would work.

"A speech synthesizer? Sure-I can get you one. Just don't ask where."