Address criticisms to [[email protected]]
  
   ******************************

   Beverly Wiseman had visited Robert Bryson at the hospital twice in spite of 
his being in a coma. Her second visit had been routine until a young nurse's 
assistant entered the room and began checking Bryson's bandages. The young 
woman raised the blanket covering Bryson's lower torso and a look of surprise 
spread over her face.

   "Is something wrong?" asked Beverly.

   "No ma'am, but it's a damned shame," replied the woman.

   "What is?" asked Beverly.

   "He has some respectable equipment, but because of his injuries, he won't 
ever be using it again."

   Her statement puzzled Beverly. "I don't understand."

   "Are you his girlfriend?"

   "No. We're only coworkers."

   "Step over here and take a look at this."

   Beverly moved to the side of the bed across from the young woman and looked 
at what she was holding. Her eyes got wide. "Is it proper for you to be 
handling him like that?"

   "Probably not, but he won't ever know. You aren't going to tell are you?"

   "No. And, you're right; it is impressive. Why do you say he won't ever use 
it again?"

   "The third bullet that hit him not only severely damaged the arteries in his 
legs, it destroyed his testes. Without them, he'll never get another erection, 
unless he goes on hormone treatments to replace the lost testosterone from the 
missing testes."

   Beverly was ashamed of herself as she looked across the bed at Bryson's 
penis. Her hopes of one day having him be a father figure for her twins and 
maybe even having him father more children for her had been destroyed by that 
third bullet. She could still hope for a relationship with him, if he ever 
recovered from his wounds, but it would never be anything other than a brother-
sister relationship at best. Still, she reasoned, he could be a male role model 
for her daughters to learn from.

****************************

   It had been a week since her last meeting with Helen Acker and Bob Withers. 
It came as no surprise that they wanted another meeting. This time, she was 
told it concerned employee training for the people who would be using the newly 
installed workstations.

   It was 0900 hours when Beverly arrived at the President's campaign 
headquarters. As she entered the meeting room, she saw that Helen Acker was 
already there. It was a change from them making her wait.

   "Where's Withers?" asked Beverly.

   "Damned good question, Beverly. He missed a meeting last Friday morning. No 
one has heard anything from him since. He didn't show up this morning either. 
Maybe he got lost. Maybe permanently, if we're lucky."

   "You don't like him, but he is a fellow worker."

   "He's a first class horse's ass if I ever met one, and I've met more than my 
share over the last decade. They either become politicians or they gravitate 
toward them. If they can't have the power, they like to get as close to it as 
possible. But we're not here to discuss him. I need a rundown on the training 
your people are in the process of providing for our troops. I'd like to brief 
the President, but if you want, I'll set up a short meeting and you can fill 
him in on the whole project."

   "I don't like him or the men he keeps company with; so, I'll give you the 
information and you can present it to him as you see fit."

   Beverly spent the next half hour giving Acker a very detailed description of 
the training the workstation operators would be receiving and furnished her 
with data that Acker could use for her presentation to the President.

   When Beverly departed, she had the feeling that Acker actually appreciated 
her efforts. A minute later, she chided herself for harboring such a na�ve 
idea. 

****************************

   Later that day, Helen Acker gave President Waters a very detailed briefing 
about the new computer installations and the security measures being used to 
safeguard his campaign data. He was especially impressed with the data that had 
been provided to Acker about the training his campaign staffers were receiving.

   "Did you know, Mr. President, Mrs. Wiseman doesn't even like you."

   "Really. Then why has she done such a thorough job of this installation."

   "It seems that she separates her private feelings from her professional 
responsibilities. She doesn't like you and she absolutely hates Bob Withers, 
but she said that she had a contract to fulfill and she would give it her best 
shot. She's definitely a company woman."

   "I don't know her, but I respect anyone who can keep their personal feelings 
from interfering with their professional responsibilities. I wish I had some of 
them working for me."

   "Actually, you do, Mr. President. One day, I'll explain that to you."

   The President looked at his communications officer. He knew what kind of 
asshole Bob Withers was, and how some of Bob's cronies behaved - especially 
with his female campaign staff. The problem was that he owed some favors and 
taking on Withers and his friends had been payment for some of those favors. 
Hopefully, if he won this next election, he could divest himself of some of 
that baggage. No one had heard from Withers in several days; he secretly hoped 
it could be a permanent situation.

***************************** 

   Lyta had given a lot of thought to the Slorian problem. She decided to 
change how she would handle it, so she made another visit to the Drakh 
laboratory facility. It took her several hours, but after she finished, the 
Drakh commenced a concerted effort to make copies of the facility computer 
databases and programs. They were translating them into several different 
languages as they made the copies. 

   Lyta knew it would take at least a week, maybe even two, for the job to be 
finished; so, she took her guests to several other locations on the planet. She 
was intrigued by the efforts the scientists were making to gather as much data 
and as many samples of both plant and animal life as they could. She thought 
that she wouldn't be surprised that when she returned them to Ghor it took at 
least two weeks for the scientists to offload all the stuff they were 
collecting and keep it organized.

   She decided to put off blowing up a large portion of the planet's sentient 
population for the time being. Instead, she decided to let the Interstellar 
Alliance (IA) stew over the situation for a while. After all, it was their 
problem. 

*****************************        

On Glenthor: 
   
   Jason was watching another of the training videos that Emily had obtained. 
He was again sitting on the floor and resting his head on Emily's lower belly. 
She absentmindedly played with Jason's hair as she watched the video with him. 
This scene had been repeating itself virtually every evening since Lyta had 
left. Emily had not seen the results of Jason's hearing test. She wondered why 
Lyta hadn't mentioned it. After the video finished, Jason kept his position, 
unlike the past when he would change position and lie on the couch with his 
head resting in Emily's lap. She didn't object to the change in procedures.

   This time, when Jason relaxed in order to assimilate the information he had 
gained by watching the video, he did something different. He gently rubbed his 
cheek against Emily's inner thigh. She felt a pleasant sensation and lowered 
her mental shields in order to 'listen' to his unguarded thoughts.

   Emily remembered the last time someone had touched her with sex on his mind; 
she had all but killed him with a mind blast. She had also injured a dozen 
people who had been in other apartments as far away as a hundred meters. For 
her efforts, she had been shot full of tranquilizers and the sleeper drugs. It 
was the last time Psi Corps had tried to breed her with one of their P-12 
studs. After that, they settled for removing some of her eggs and using them in 
in-vitro fertilization attempts to breed high power telepaths. They never 
succeeded in producing a telepath rated above a high P-12 rating. 

   Looking at Jason, Emily was a bit concerned. In the last few weeks, she and 
Jason had attended several meetings, at which there were several women who had 
obviously been interested in Jason. In spite of their best efforts, Jason had 
managed to evade them. Emily wondered why Jason had showed no interest in the 
women and had lowered her mental shields in order to 'listen' to his unguarded 
thoughts. To her surprise, Jason hadn't seemed to see the women as women. His 
thoughts about them were the same as if he were dealing with people who were 
sexless. She couldn't understand this response, but she would, and she wouldn't 
be happy with that knowledge.

   Emily waited until Jason had settled down after assimilating the information 
in the video. "Jason?"

   "Yes," answered Jason without moving.

   "What do you know about love?"

   It was a moment before Jason asked in response, "With relation to what?"

   "I'm not sure. Do you remember Donna Shultz and Beth Singer?"

   "Of course. They were at our last staff meeting. Why?"

   "It appears to me that both of them have a more than passing interest in 
you."

   "How many women do we have on the planet who aren't telepaths and how many 
of them do we ever come into contact with?"

   His questions caused Emily to hesitate. "I'm going to assume that you mean 
women who aren't either married or presently involved with someone."

   "Those parameters will do quite nicely."

   Emily considered the question, its parameters, and was surprised to find 
that she couldn't think of any unattached Human females who weren't telepaths. 
This shouldn't have seemed strange, since all the active recruiting for 
emigrants had been focused on the telepath community that had recently managed 
to escape from under Psi Corps' thumb. "At the moment, I can't think of any. It 
seems to be worth investigating."

   "You may have noticed that I'm a mundane. I'm sure that you became aware of 
that fact while you were rummaging around inside my mind, since I arrived on 
Glenthor."  

   "I have not been rummaging around inside your mind!"

   "Yeah? For starters, I overheard your conversation with Lyta. You remember 
the one when the two of you asked to be left alone and I went to my rooms. You 
should have checked the intercom; you accidentally left it in the send 
function." 

   "Oh. I didn't know that."

   "I would ask how I'm doing, but I'm going to take the lack of admonishment 
as indicating that you're satisfied with my progress."

   Emily hadn't been expecting anything like this. His tone of voice left no 
doubts about how he felt about the situation. He was definitely not happy.

   "I didn't do anything to you."

   "Really! When we came here, I was attracted to several of the females that I 
met. For the last month or so, I've been less interested in females than I am 
in the color of the carpet. Want to venture any thoughts about why that might 
be?"

   There was undisguised disgust in Jason's voice; it wasn't lost on Emily. She 
didn't attempt to answer his question.

   "Be honest, Emily. All I am to you is another experiment. I heard you beg 
Lyta to not take me away from you like Psi Corps did the others you 
experimented on. Since I have no further interest in sex, I'm inclined to say 
that I'm something of a disappointment. It's rather obvious that I'm not quite 
right in the head."

   "I didn't do anything to you," she said evenly. "You made the changes. 
Everything is intact. You have hearing that is better than a person of your age 
has any right to expect. Your problem solving skills, your memory, your ability 
to assimilate new languages and cultures are phenomenal. In every respect, 
you're what many would consider a superior man. I don't know why you no longer 
have any interest in females. Maybe it has something to do with how your brain 
processes information, now."

   "What's the point of being a 'superior' man if I can't even function at the 
most basic level of emotions?"

   Emily had no answers for him. Something had gone wrong and she had 
absolutely no idea what it might have been - much less how to go about 
correcting it, if that was even possible. It certainly answered her own 
questions about his lack of sexual feelings when he rubbed his cheek against 
her inner thigh, and why he had pointedly avoided Donna Shultz and Beth Singer.

   Jason got up, went over to the kitchen area and put on a pot of water. He 
looked at Emily and said, "When we first met, I was physically attracted to 
you, but I knew that you were about twenty years younger than I am. Even after 
I came to the conclusion that there was nothing there, I was still attracted to 
you if only as an older brother is attracted to a much younger sister. Now, I 
can't seem to understand what I saw in you to begin with from a sexual point of 
view. You tell me? What isn't right with my feeling like that? Even though 
there's never going to be anything between us, it still doesn't explain my 
complete lack of emotional attachment. I don't like it, Emily, but I don't know 
what to do about it."

   Emily had admitted that she didn't know the why of his apparent lack of 
emotions. "Jason, will you accept that I actually did nothing to your mind?"

   "Why don't you just tell me about what's transpired to change the way I seem 
to be thinking and feeling."

   "How much do you know about how the Human mind works?"

   "Only what has been presented on the science channels. That's not very much."

   "Think of your brain as an advanced multi-processor computer."

   "That's how the science channels started their programs."

   "I know, but the example they use is woefully inadequate."

   "Oh?"

   Emily got off the couch and went to a table on the left side of the 
apartment. She got a stylus and data pad from a drawer in the table. She 
quickly went back to the couch and started drawing on the pad's work area. 
Jason made himself a stiff drink of scotch whiskey and walked over to see what 
she was drawing. After a few minutes, she handed him the pad. Then she 
said, "Study the drawing, while I get some tea."

   Jason studied the drawing. It looked somewhat like the computer examples he 
had seen on the video channels, except that it was much more complex. "Is this 
your idea of how the Human brain functions?"

   "It's as simple as I can make it. The normal world never got its hands on 
the files that Psi Corps had concerning the experiments and other data that had 
been developed over the years, as a result of the corps trying to find a way to 
enhance a telepath's psi abilities."

   "Is that all?"

   "It's just the beginning. Look at that drawing and try to imagine a computer 
with a million circuits similar to or even more complicated than what you see 
there. Imagine that it has virtually unlimited memory resources, that it can 
store data in a thousand forms from binary to a level that can store a complete 
image in one storage unit, and that any or all of those processors can process 
data as a single unit or as a multi-processor unit that uses as many processors 
as the operating system decides is necessary. Add to that the ability to 
determine the importance of various data inputs and tag what feature about that 
data is most important. It's a fact that for jogging a memory loose, nothing 
beats a smell. We, the corps doctors and I, came to believe it works that way 
in normal people, both telepaths and non-telepaths, because it is the primary 
stimulus that causes a male mammal to seek out a receptive female mammal for 
procreation. Admittedly, it's stronger in almost all other mammals than Human's 
because our olfactory organs aren't all that well developed."

   "What you're describing is much more complicated than anything that was 
hinted at in the science channel presentations."

   "Oh, it's much more complex that that. Factor in that the operating system 
can take in myriad data sets and decide which is the most important and assign 
the resources to process it. That, for the most part, describes how the average 
Human's conscious mind functions. Now, imagine a computer system that's a 
hundred thousand times more complex that's always running in the background to 
keep the conscious mind from dropping the bubble and you have the subconscious 
mind, and it never sleeps. Unlike the conscious mind, the subconscious works 
24/7."

   "What does all of that have to do with me?"

   "I told you that I didn't make any changes to your mind, and I didn't, but I 
helped your unconscious mind rearrange how it handles things, including what is 
considered the most important data types. I helped it learn how to use its 
resources more efficiently. It then made the changes that it felt were 
necessary for its optimum operation. It has been making changes in itself ever 
since. Your mind is a living conscious computer. It never stops learning and 
evolving itself to stay alive. That's why the Shadows used Humans as the 
central processing unit in their ships. In spite of having existed for maybe 
billions of years, they couldn't make a processor that is superior to the 
biological ones already in existence."

   "I wonder why they didn't simply grow their own?"

   "I don't know, unless it was more efficient to simply put some type of 
interface implants into a living being because that being already had a life 
support system for its nervous system."

   Jason shuddered at Emily's last statement. "Where does all of this leave me, 
or us, or whatever?"

   "I don't know."

*****************************

   The next day, Jason was sitting in his office looking out through the open 
doorway. He had another meeting scheduled for that morning. He was deep in 
thought when a voice from the doorway grabbed his attention. "A credit for your 
thoughts," said Emily.

   "I've been thinking about our conversation last night. There were some 
things you said that caused me to lie awake last night. I think I have one 
answer for my situation, but it seems ludicrous."

   "Why don't you run it by me?"

   "You said my mind had developed the ability to change what my priorities are 
even without my being aware of it. Could it be that my seemingly enhanced 
senses have caused me to hear or see or smell things that I wouldn't have 
before you started helping me?"

   "I don't know for sure. Certainly your hearing is very much better that it 
ever has been before, except for when you were first born."

   "Come over here for a moment?"

   Emily complied with his request. "See those women out there?"

   "What about them?"

   "Listen to what they're talking about."

   Emily concentrated on the women, but could hear nothing. "I can't hear them, 
Jason."

   "I can, quite well, too. They're discussing the outfit that Karen wore to 
work this morning."

   Emily lowered her mental barriers and concentrated. Jason was 
correct. "That's not just a small improvement in your hearing."

   "Last night, I tried to imagine why I'd lost my interest in women. I thought 
about one of my old girlfriends. I was sexually stimulated by those thoughts. 
It almost drove me to scream trying to figure out why a memory of a woman I 
haven't seen in years would arouse me more than either of two physically 
attractive women who are apparently interested in me. I think I know."

   Emily looked at him expectantly. "Okay. I'm damned curious."

   "During a break at the first meeting we had that they were present at, I 
accidentally overheard them discussing the shortage of men, telepath or 
otherwise on Glenthor. During the conversation, both expressed a loathing of 
non-telepaths, regardless if they were or were not the only available 
unattached or uncommitted males."

   "They don't know that you're a non-telepath."

   "True enough, but I know how they feel, which would cause my mind to dismiss 
them from consideration as a sexual partner. It also explains why I no longer 
see you as a female."

   Emily frowned. "I'm not biased against non-telepaths."

   "True enough, again; however, you have no use for me as a male and you have 
let me know that. It's been expressed by your body language."

   "And, body language encompasses as much as eighty percent of our total 
communications when we're together. My apologies, Jason; I wasn't even aware of 
it. I don't know how to make you understand how my feelings came to be what 
they are."

   "Lyta showed me some things visually in my mind. The images seemed to 
concern you and some psi cops."

   Emily looked at him in astonishment. "Oh, crap!"

   "Tell Donna Shultz and Beth Singer to come in here for a minute, please, 
Emily."

   Three minutes later, the two women were standing in front of Jason's 
desk. "You wanted to see us?" asked Singer.

   "Yes, I did. When you were given the familiarization briefings about the 
company, they left out one very important fact."

   Both women looked at him with puzzled expressions on their faces.

   "The businesses on Glenthor that are operated by Humans are almost all 
helmed by telepaths and most of their human employees are also telepaths."

   "Yes, sir," they responded in unison.

   "I run this company. When all things are considered, I feel it was a major 
oversight that you were not informed - I'm a mundane. You may go."

   Emily had listened to Jason's words and monitored the surface thoughts of 
the two women. After the two of them had left his office, she said, "It's good 
that you couldn't hear their thoughts when you dropped that little piece of 
information."

   "My reasons for not thinking of them as women have been vindicated."

   "In spades."

   Jason smiled then laughed. "My mind works just fine."

   Emily could feel the relief in Jason's thoughts. She felt much better too. 
She also appreciated that he held no animosity for Shultz and Singer, but she 
wasn't comfortable with his statement about what Lyta had showed him.

*****************************

   It was midmorning and Emily had stopped in the cafeteria for a cup of strong 
coffee. It was expensive, but she felt that she deserved it after the meeting 
she had just attended. It seemed that lately all she and Jason did was attend 
meetings. She was quickly coming to the conclusion that she never wanted to be 
in a position like Jason's. She was just taking a bite of her bagel when Donna 
Shultz and Beth Singer appeared in front of her table and asked to join her. 
She invited them to sit and take a break.

   Donna Shultz asked, "Exactly what was Mr. Conrad getting at this morning?"

   "I thought he was pretty obvious," replied Emily. "Everyone assumes that 
since this is the primary security service, so to speak, for Glenthorian off-
world interests, and is majority owned by Lyta Alexander, all the major company 
positions would naturally be held by telepaths."

   "That seems to be a fair assumption," said Beth Singer.

   "Why would you assume that, Ms. Singer?" asked Emily.

   "I wouldn't think that a telepath would allow a mundane to run his or her 
business," replied Singer.

   "Why would you assume that? Do I hear a bit of superiority complex sneaking 
into the conversation?" asked Emily.

   "I didn't mean it like that," protested Singer.

   "Exactly how did you mean it?" pressed Emily.

   Singer began to realize that she had talked herself into something of a 
corner, and was looking for some way to backtrack out of it. Donna Shultz saw 
what Emily was doing and remained silent. Finally, Singer gave up and 
said, "Everyone knows mundanes are inferior to telepaths."

   "In what way?" insisted Emily.

   Her inquiry was greeted by silence from the two women. At last, Emily 
said, "I think I see the problem. You were thoroughly indoctrinated by the 
corps. I think there are a few facts that you should know. The first Director 
of Psi Corps was a mundane. All of the great writers, military leaders, 
musicians, songwriters, politicians, doctors and the best from dozens of other 
walks of life have all been mundanes. The only thing telepaths can do that 
mundanes can't is read another person's thoughts. The reason a mundane is 
running this company is that the most powerful telepath in the galaxy thinks he 
is the best person for the job - not a telepath. Before she became a telepath, 
the presently acknowledged best tactical combat leader in the Earthforce 
Interstellar Service was a mundane. Of course, that has changed recently. She's 
now the highest profile telepath in the Interstellar Alliance."

   Even after this revelation, her fellow workers were silent. "Jason heard 
your comments the other day about mundanes. He has phenomenal hearing. If you 
think you're superior to him, I'll be quite happy to set up some tests, both 
mental and physical that will allow you to demonstrate your superiority. I also 
promise that you'll lose very badly. Jason will not brook any bias directed 
against any other employee in the company by any fellow employee. Break that 
rule and you'll be history around here. You'll also find it very difficult to 
find gainful employment at any other reputable company on the planet. Do I make 
myself clear?"

   Both women nodded in the affirmative. "You don't have to like your fellow 
employees, but you do have to work with them without letting your personal 
feelings get in the way. If there is someone you absolutely can't get along 
with, inform your supervisor. We'll do our best to make the situation better 
for all concerned. We're the very small minority on this planet. It's in all of 
our best interests to keep interpersonal frictions to a minimum. We all have 
biases - some justified, some not - it's something we all have to live with. 
Any questions."

   Looking relieved, both women said no.

*****************************

On Ghor:

   Lyta had watched the scientists unload several tons of samples that they had 
collected on Slor. It was barely a dent in the total amount of material that 
was stored in the cargo hold and every other available space onboard her 
shuttle. She had been correct in thinking that it might take several weeks for 
all of the material they had collected to be unloaded and accounted for. She 
had been impressed by how particularly careful the workmen had been when they 
unloaded the eight live specimens of Slorian sentients, although four of them 
weren't really sentient. The scientists wanted samples of both for DNA 
comparison. 

   Lyta had inserted blocks into the Slorians' minds that would keep them 
completely incapacitated until she removed the blocks. The Ghorians had 
nevertheless used prepared cages to transport their specimens. 

******************************

Onboard Whitestar 89:

   "Alyt Nelan, the weather anomaly we've been monitoring has disappeared," 
noted Ranger Paul Jenkins.

   "Disappeared?" queried the alyt.

   "Yes, sir. It started moving in a northwesterly direction and it just 
vanished from the sensors. It didn't dissipate, sir. It was there and then it 
wasn't."

   "Weather phenomena don't just disappear, Ranger Jenkins. They usually 
breakup and dissipate. Copy the sensor logs for the last month to headquarters. 
Maybe they can make something out of them." 

******************************

   It had been almost two weeks since she had returned to Ghor and Lyta watched 
as the last of the materials that had been brought from Slor were unloaded from 
her shuttle. She noticed that a Ghorian male, Meltin Flou was approaching.

   "What might I do for you Professor Flou?" inquired Lyta.

   Flou wasn't smiling. "I see you that made the trip to Slor in spite of my 
colleagues' and my objections."

   "I made the trip, but your objections are your problem. You and your 
colleagues don't tell me what I can and can't do."

   "The whitestar in orbit around Slor was notified of when you left for the 
planet. They have just been notified of your return and what was in your cargo."

   Lyta laughed in Flou's face. "You continue to amuse me professor, but I'm 
afraid you're what the Humans call a one trick pony. I look forward to seeing 
what the whitestar can do to stop me."

   Later, Lyta would remember this sentence and wonder when she had begun to 
think of her species as 'they'. Her phraseology wasn't lost on Flou. It told 
him more than he wanted to know, even if he didn't understand how or why.

******************************

Onboard Whitestar 89:

   "Alyt Nelan, there is another message from Ghor for you," said the 
communications watch.

   "What kind of message?"

   "It's from the same minister that sent the last one, sir. It says that the 
shuttle that was going to Slor has returned and is unloading its cargo."

   "How would they know that it has been to the planet below?"

   "It lists part of the cargo as being eight Slorians."

   Alyt Nelan looked at his communicator. "Ask the originator if he or she can 
identify the shuttle. Its registration number would be of much assistance."

   It was an hour before the communications watch received a response to his 
query. They were almost on the opposite side of the local sun from Ghor and the 
one-way transmission time in normal space was just over eighteen minutes.

   An hour later, the communications watch said, "Alyt, we are receiving an 
answer to your inquiry about the registration of the suspect shuttle. Our 
database confirms that it is owned by Lyta Alexander, a Glenthorian diplomat."

   "She's a long way from home," noted the alyt. "Maybe we should find out 
exactly what she's doing way out here. Especially, if she's visiting a 
quarantined planet."

   Alyt Nelan spent the next hour reviewing the information his ship's database 
had concerning Lyta Alexander and considering his options. There didn't seem to 
be much available until he gained access to a very restricted part of her file. 
He reviewed the restricted data. The idea of going after her actually unsettled 
him - not something easily done to a member of the warrior caste; unfortunately 
even the restricted data didn't address any of Lyta's more dangerous abilities 
because those who knew of them had never let their knowledge become part of any 
permanent record. Items such as the visual records of what she had done to the 
bounty hunters' ship a few years earlier were not included, nor was there any 
mention of her part in the recent attack on Babylon 5.
   
*****************************

   Lyta had one more trip to make to Slor before she would be ready to leave 
the solar system. She availed herself of the plentiful iron asteroids orbiting 
Bliteroth. It took two days for her to construct the bombs she wanted then she 
headed for Slor.

   Once again, as soon as her shuttle exited hyperspace, it was hidden from 
direct observation by what looked like a small weather anomaly. It didn't go 
unnoticed on Whitestar 89.

   Lyta landed at the Drakh base and immediately went about having the data 
crystals she had directed them to produce loaded into her shuttle. She also 
watched the Drakh minions - under Drakh supervision - use forklifts to carry 
the huge spherical devices that she had made down to the lowest level of the 
installation. There were a hundred of them and each one massed almost two 
metric tons. As soon as the offloading was completed, Lyta erased the event 
from the memory of everyone involved. She figured that in the remote event that 
the devices were found, they would be ignored as nothing more than a curiosity. 
In hyperspace and normal space the devices had not presented any problem to 
Lyta's shuttle. Her telekinetic abilities made carrying the overload possible 
for the short period of time that her shuttle was airborne in the planet's 
atmosphere.

   Satisfied with her efforts, Lyta took off from the base and ten minutes 
later entered hyperspace.  

   Once again her departure from Slor appeared to be a disappearing weather 
anomaly. The evolution was recorded by the orbiting whitestar.

******************************

   Lyta was sitting across the desk watching Professor Stath finish a phone 
conversation. After a few minutes, he hung up the phone and said, "Our people 
are ecstatic over the materials you let our team bring back. They are 
absolutely thrilled to have real Slorians to study. I think their greatest 
problem is going to be determining how to best make use of them without harming 
them. It should keep them busy for quite some time."

   "I'm going to want to review what your specialists learn about the DNA 
differences between the evolved Slorians as opposed to their unevolved 
brethren. It may influence me in my final judgment about how to handle the 
Slorian problem."

   "I'm glad to hear that you haven't set anything about that in concrete yet. 
The copies of the data crystals you provided are another matter altogether. 
Some of our computer whizzes aren't sure that our computers can handle the 
programs on the crystals. The data files are another matter. We can access 
them, but it's going to be a slow process. It would be nice to have some idea 
what we're looking for."

   "The best I can do professor is to tell you that I'm quite sure they're 
concerned with the DNA experiments the Shadow thralls were conducting on the 
Slorians. You might try buying the necessary hardware from the IA. I'm sure 
that they'll also be interested in this information."

   "I'll check into that. It'll give some of my friends and me a legitimate 
excuse to have some expensive lunches on government money. By the way, when are 
you leaving?"

   "Tomorrow morning. There's a dinner theater nightclub I ate at the other 
night that has some unusual ideas about entertainment. Tonight is what I'd 
describe as an open mike night. Members of the audience will be encouraged to 
show off their abilities in song, dance and what not."

****************************** 

Onboard Whitestar 89:

   "Alyt Nelan, we have received another message form our unidentified contact 
in the Ghorian ministry. Lyta Alexander's shuttle just landed after being gone 
for almost three days."

   Alyt Nelan listened to the report and considered the weather anomaly they 
had observed earlier that day. He was convinced that somehow Lyta Alexander and 
her shuttle had been on the planet's surface and was connected to the apparent 
weather anomaly.

   Nelan enabled the ship's announcing system and said, "Ranger Hawk, report to 
the bridge."

   Ranger Hawk and two of his comrades were dispatched to Ghor to take Lyta 
into custody and return with her to the whitestar. Alyt Nelan had the ship 
enter hyperspace then launched the three rangers in one of the ship's shuttles. 
They were ordered to radio the ship when they departed Ghor. The shuttle would 
be retrieved from hyperspace on their return. It was either this or take the 
whitestar itself to Ghor and Alyt Nelan wasn't willing to leave his station for 
that period of time. In normal space the round trip would take seventeen days 
even at a speed of a million-and-a-half kilometers per hour.

******************************
   
In the Kindred Spirit Nightclub:

   Lyta was sitting at a table in the middle of the showroom. Onstage, there 
was a male and female duet doing their best to sing a couple of the traditional 
folk songs of Ghor. Lyta was glad that her ears were virtually indestructible. 
She enjoyed watching some members of the audience outright cringe at the effort.

   She was enjoying a third drink and slowly munching on another tapa. There 
had been several more singers, two comedians, and a magician of sorts. He was 
just finishing up his act.

   Onstage, a young Ghorian female was announced as being an illusionist. The 
young woman walked out onto the bare stage and began talking into a small hand-
held microphone. "Tonight you are going to be treated to the best illusions 
that have ever been performed on this or any other stage. Before I begin, I 
want to remind all of you that everything you will see during this performance 
is an illusion. None of it is real. Please remember that and behave 
accordingly."

   A voice from the back of the audience said in a rather loud voice, "I don't 
see anything. When do the illusions start?"

   The young woman replied, "They already have."

   Fog drifted down from the ceiling of the establishment. It seemed to come 
out of nowhere and in a few seconds obscured everything in the room. A few 
seconds later, the fog stopped and immediately began to dissipate. On the 
stage, behind the woman, was an assortment of what could only be implements of 
torture. The audience was stunned. There was no way the items on the stage 
could have been put there in so short a period of time.

   "I'm going to begin with a simple illusion. I need a volunteer from the 
audience."

   A Ghorian male got up from a front table and walked up onto the stage.

   "As you see here, my assistant has opened a box and as you can see it is 
completely transparent. I'm going to put our volunteer into the box, and in 
front of your eyes, he will vanish. By the way, what is your name?"

   "Eile," replied the man.

   "Well, Eile, my assistant is going to put you into the box and then fasten 
it shut. I need another volunteer to check the box and ensure that it is empty 
now and that it is closed and locked after Eile is placed into it."

   A few minutes later, the woman said, "As you can see, our subject is in the 
box. In other acts, the box is covered or otherwise hidden from sight while the 
vanishing is taking place. We're going to do it the hard way."

   Turning around to face the man in the box, the woman began chanting in what 
sounded like an obscure Ghorian dialect. After a few chants, she waved her 
hands and said, loudly, "Vanish and be gone!" 

   At that moment, the man in the box disappeared and the crowd drew in a very 
loud collective breath.

   "I want our volunteer inspector to once again examine the box."

   The assistant opened the box and the volunteer examined it inside and out, 
even going so far as to stand inside the box, showing that it was in fact empty.

   "If my faithful assistant will be so kind as to close the box again."

   After her assistant closed the box, the woman again mumbled some words and 
shouted, "Come back!"

   What appeared inside the box looked like a large mass of bloody meat, with 
pieces of bone sticking out of the mess. The assistant opened the box and the 
mass oozed out onto the stage.

   "I'm sorry," said the woman. "I should have warned him about the risk 
involved in the trick. Don't worry; my other assistant will squeegee the mess 
offstage in a few minutes. Meanwhile, I'd like another volunteer from the 
audience." There didn't appear to be any takers.

   "Remember what I said earlier; nothing you are seeing is real. It is all one 
very large illusion."

   Another volunteer went up onto the stage. "Let's have about seven more 
volunteers. I need that many to finish my act. I promise that no one will be 
harmed in any way."

   About this time, Ranger Hawk and his associates walked into the club and 
started observing the stage show. 

   The volunteers all went up onto the stage and were introduced to the 
audience.  The woman looked out at the audience and motioned for one of Hawk's 
fellow rangers to come up onto the stage. He tried to decline, but the audience 
booed him so badly that he relented. 

   What followed was a huge gore fest as one after another the volunteers were 
butchered in various ways. In one trick a finger from a volunteer flew out into 
the audience and landed in someone's drink, making a bloody mess. 

   The stage was a bloody mess with body parts and entrails making lumpy piles 
from one side of it to the other and front to back.

   The last illusion was one featuring a modified version of a guillotine. 
Hawk's hapless partner was fastened into it and beheaded in only a few seconds. 
Blood gushed out from the stump of his headless body and his head rolled off 
the stage and across the floor toward Hawk. Hawk and his remaining associate 
were stunned beyond belief at the scene.

   The woman, now covered with blood and gore from the mess onstage, once again 
reminded the audience that nothing they were seeing was real. "Trust me, ladies 
and gentlemen; no one has been harmed in any way." As fog once again drifted 
down to obscure everything in the room, she said, "Thank you and goodnight."

   As the fog dissipated, the audience could see that the stage was empty. The 
gory mess was gone. The finger in the drink was also gone and the drink was 
once again normal. The head that rolled across the floor had vanished and the 
ranger who owned it was standing with his comrades in perfect health. It soon 
became obvious that everyone was back in his or her seat, in perfect health, 
and the woman was gone as if she had never existed.

   Sitting at her table, Lyta became aware of the rangers even before they had 
entered the establishment. She hoped that they had enjoyed the show.

*****************************

   Hawk looked at his companion and asked, "What just happened, Roy?"

   "What are you talking about, Hawk?" replied his companion.

   "We just watched you get your head cut off."
   
   Roy looked at the other ranger and asked, "What's he drinking, Allan?"

   "Nothing, Roy. I saw it myself. You went up on that stage and had your head 
cut off. It rolled over here and almost hit my foot."

   Roy looked at the two of them and shook his head. They were losing it. They 
had been out on patrol too long.

   "That's the Alexander woman over there," said Hawk, pointing at Lyta.

   "Let's get on with it," said Roy.

******************************

   Lyta had watched everything in the bar and was very satisfied with her 
efforts. Everyone would be talking about tonight's show for a very long time to 
come, and some talent agent would go nuts trying to learn whom the young female 
magician had been.

   The show ended and Lyta waited for the rangers to make their move. She 
wasn't disappointed.

   "Miss Alexander?" asked Hawk.

   Lyta looked at them and smiled. "Who wants to know?"

   "We're with the Anla'shok, Miss Alexander. We've been detailed to escort you 
to meet our commanding officer, onboard Whitestar 89," replied Hawk.

   "Do I know your commanding officer?"

   "I don't think so, ma'am. Will you come with us, please?"

   Lyta looked at them and replied, "Why not?"

******************************

   The quartet left the nightclub and headed for the local bus stop. Roy had 
had his hand on Lyta's arm for about half a block when his hand suddenly went 
through her arm like it was an illusion. A moment later, Lyta faded from view. 
The three rangers looked all around and found that their willing prisoner had 
simply vanished. They walked back to the nightclub.

   Surely enough, Lyta was sitting where she had been when they had first seen 
her. As they started to walk into the club, they found themselves again leaning 
against the wall from where they had watched the magician's performance. They 
realized that everything they had just 'experienced' had been an illusion. Once 
again, they walked over to Lyta's table.

   Lyta got up and said, "Okay. Let's do it for real this time."

   "What just happened to us?" asked Hawk.

   "Consider it an object lesson, Ranger Hawk."

   As they left the club for the 'second' time, Hawk realized that no one had 
told Lyta his name.

******************************

On Mars:

   It was dark. Robert Bryson was awake and wondering what in hell was going 
on. The last thing he remembered was crawling into bed and pulling the blanket 
up over himself. Why he was awake in the middle of the night puzzled him, 
because he very seldom awakened in the night unless he had to go the bathroom, 
something he didn't have to do. He was also looking up at the darkened ceiling, 
and he never slept on his back. There was a tube running up his nose, and he 
couldn't move; he also felt hungry, he ached all over. It slowly dawned on him 
that he was in some kind of medical facility. He couldn't imagine why. He tried 
to cry out, but his mouth and throat were dry and all that he managed was a 
scratchy croak. Slowly, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

   As Bryson drifted off to sleep, a nurse arrived to check out the 
fluctuations the monitor equipment recorded and reported to her remote station. 
She looked at the monitors and then at Bryson's sleeping form. She noticed that 
his left hand was across his abdomen instead of along his side. The brain 
activity monitor was showing normal sleep activity, something that it hadn't 
displayed before.

   The nurse notified the duty doctor, who arrived in a few minutes to 
investigate the situation.

*****************************

   Detective Lieutenant Jason Morgan had been notified of Bryson's regaining 
consciousness. Now, he was sitting in a chair beside Bryson's hospital bed. 
Looking at his old friend, he asked, "Bob, what can you tell me about the 
attack that put you in here?"

   Looking at the detective he replied, "I'm sorry, Jason. The last thing I 
remember is going to bed on the Thursday night before this attack thing 
happened."

   Morgan looked from Bryson to his doctor. 

   "He's telling you the truth, detective. After being subjected to the extreme 
shock his body and mind received, it's not unusual to not remember the events 
or the time immediately leading up to them. In Mr. Bryson's case, he's lost an 
entire day. It may or may not ever come back to him. Considering his injuries, 
I'd suspect that it'll never return."

   "Can I have a few minutes alone with him, doc?"

   "Sure," replied the doctor; then he left the room.

   Morgan looked at Bryson. 

   "You want to try a scan don't you?" asked Bryson.

   "Only with your permission. Somehow, I don't think it'll meet with any 
success. You just try to remember the event, I'll do the rest."

   "Okay."

   Ten minutes later, Morgan said, "It's no good, Bob. Your memory is excellent 
right up to the time you went to sleep on Thursday evening; then absolutely 
nothing until you woke up here. I've never seen a memory loss that complete 
before. Not even a mind wipe is that thorough. I'm afraid the doctor is right. 
You aren't ever going to remember that Friday."

   "Tell me what happened. The doc wouldn't tell me anything including how 
extensive my injuries were."

   Morgan told him the facts, as he understood them, about the attack and the 
time leading up to it. "I'm afraid you'll have to get the story of what 
happened at your job from your fellow workers. I'm sure that Mrs. Wiseman'll be 
more than happy to bring you up to date about that."

   "I'm just glad she wasn't hurt any more than she was. She's a very good 
worker."

   "That's all she is to you then - a fellow worker?"

   "Of course, Jason. Edgar Industries has some very strict rules about 
employees fraternizing at work. They don't like it even when it's done during 
non-work hours. They believe it can compromise employees and lead to harassment 
complaints."

   "Somehow, I got the feeling from her that she thought of you in a less than 
fellow employee manner."

   "You're completely wrong, Jason. I summarily fired her from my office a 
while back. She ended up filing harassment charges against me. Take my word for 
it; Beverly Wiseman can barely stand being in the same room as me. The only 
reason I would have been escorting her home was that we had just finished a 
meeting with the President's communications officer and Bob Withers, his 
campaign manager. Withers is a womanizer and doesn't know when to leave a woman 
alone. He won't take no for an answer."

   "I don't think that will be much of a problem in the future."

   "Oh? Why not?"

   Morgan handed him a sheet of paper. "That's the hardcopy of an e-mail I 
received last week. Do you remember what it means?"

   Bob Bryson slowly read the e-mail. It was short and to the point. Bob 
Withers, Harvey George, and Leslie Dyer are Bob Dillon.

   Bryson read it again. "My God. This is for real?"

   "We can't find any of them, and none of their associates have seen them 
since about a week after the attack on you."

   "Who do you think is responsible?"

   "I don't have a clue. If you remember during the rebellion when we were 
winning our independence from Earth, and we captured and interrogated any 
Earthforce personnel, we couldn't let them go because they were killing ten of 
our people for every one we were killing of theirs. We simply left them 
unconscious and trussed up at wherever we were told."

   "Yeah. I heard a rumor that they were killed, cremated, and scattered out an 
airlock to mix with the sands of Mars. I never knew if it was true or not, nor 
did I ever hear anything about who might have been involved."

   "It wasn't a rumor, Bob. I was shown a crematorium that wasn't listed in the 
Funeral Homes of Mars directory. I learned that it could be used with no one 
being the wiser, but I never met any of the people involved. Of course, this 
was after the war was over; so, your guess is as good as mine. I think that 
maybe some friends of yours from the war may have decided to handle the 
situation their way. You were in a coma from the time of the attack until this 
morning, so you have an ironclad alibi."

   "Jason, I'd have kicked a mud hole in Bob Withers' ass and then stomped it 
dry to keep him from harassing Beverly. But, I'd never have killed him, nor did 
I wish him to come to really grievous harm. Lock the son of a bitch up, maybe. 
Kill him, no way."

   "Beverly has a recording that will change your mind. I think I may have 
inadvertently been responsible for it. I showed a copy of the recording to some 
of the other squad members at the precinct. None of them liked it that he might 
get away with it. I can only guess that someone discussed it with someone else 
who is a good friend of yours from the war."

   "I'll have Beverly show me the recording when I get back into the office. 
What else can I do for you, old buddy?" 

   "You've already done it, Bob. You awoke and are still alive. The doc tells 
me that you'll make a complete recovery. He and his associates would just like 
to know how in hell you managed it."

   "I can do that, but they aren't going to believe me. It's what remains of a 
favor a friend did for me."

   "When you get a chance, I'd appreciate you introducing him or her to me."

   "She's definitely a her, and if she ever comes back this way, I'll be more 
than happy to do the introductions."

   "I have to go, Bob. I have cases that won't wait." Morgan shook his friend's 
hand and turned to leave then hesitated. "Don't let the Wiseman woman get away, 
Bob. She's definitely a keeper, and this is from a man who doesn't chase 
women." Morgan then walked out the door only to be replaced by an older middle-
aged man who introduced himself as Doctor Allison.

   "What can I do for you, Doctor Allison?"

   "I'm not sure where to start. When you came into our emergency room, you 
should have already been dead, but obviously you weren't."

   "That's the story of my life, doc. I'm always disappointing people. You have 
my sincerest apologies."

   "I'm not disappointed, Mr. Bryson. I'm just very curious." Doctor Allison 
then moved to read the monitors that were still monitoring Bryson's vital life 
signs.

   After studying the monitors for all of a minute, the doctor used a hand 
scanner, passing it over Bryson's upper and lower torso including his crotch. 
He studied the images displayed on a monitor screen mounted on an adjustable 
support that was presently positioned above Bryson's head. He studied it for a 
few minutes then moved it so that Bryson could see the displayed images.

   "What we have displayed here, Mr. Bryson, are images of a perfectly normal 
male of about thirty years of age. The problem with that is the fact that you 
are much older than that. I don't suppose you could explain why that is, can 
you?"

   "I expected you to ask about the anomalies in my blood, doc."

   "Yes. There are those too."

   "I can tell you who's responsible, but I don't think you're going to believe 
me."

   "Try me, Mr. Bryson."

   "Why don't you do a records search using my name as the search reference and 
limit to San Francisco dating back about six months? After that, you, your 
associates and I can have a little chat."

   Doctor Allison looked at Bryson for a minute. Bryson could see the man's 
mind churning through at least a dozen questions. Finally, Allison said, "Okay, 
Mr. Bryson. This may take a while."

   "If you wish, doc, I can have the material sent over from Edgar Industries. 
Their doctors will be happy to share what they have with you."

   This obviously got Dr. Allison's attention. He reached into his pocket and 
pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Bryson. "Be my guest, Mr. Bryson."

   Bryson punched in a number then after a few seconds, he punched in another 
series of numbers. Finally, he spoke into the cell phone pick-up very quietly. 
Several seconds after he finished speaking into the phone, He punched in 
another series of numbers then looked at Dr. Allison. "What's your e-mail ID 
number, doctor?"

   Allison told him, and watched Bryson enter the digits then Bryson returned 
the cell phone. "The images and pertinent files are being e-mailed to you as I 
speak. When you try to open the files, you will be prompted to enter a 
password. Enter your last name, a space, and your cell phone number. The files 
will ask for a destination directory. Enter where you want the files to be 
saved to and they'll be decrypted and stored. When you and your associates have 
finished reviewing the data, I'll be happy to answer any questions you have, if 
I have the information. Bear in mind that in some cases, I may not possess any 
information in the area in question."

   "You agreed to this rather quickly. Why?"

   "Why not? Nothing you can possibly ask me is classified to the best of my 
knowledge. The one person that might give a damn is in a position to not care."

***************************** 

Onboard Whitestar 89:

   Alyt Nelan walked around Lyta looking her up and down. Finally, he 
spoke. "You don't look very impressive to me. My Anla'shok brought you here 
without any difficulty. What do you have to say for yourself?"

   "About what?" Lyta replied.

   "Do you deny that you have been on the planet below?"

   "No."

   "Did you not know that it is quarantined?"

   "Yes."

   "You are in a great deal of trouble, Miss Alexander."

   Lyta didn't answer since it was a statement instead of a question.

   "Didn't you hear me!" spat Nelan, slightly raising his voice.

   "Yes."

   Alyt Nelan didn't quite know what to think of the woman standing in front of 
him. If appearances were to be believed, she was slightly bored with him and 
what he had to say. That irritated the hell out of him.

   "You are operating a shuttle that is registered in the Interstellar 
Alliance."

   "So?"

   "I can seize your shuttle until this situation is settled in an IA court."

   "Really."

   Lyta appeared distracted for a moment. Almost immediately, Nelan felt his 
ship break orbit.

   "Helm! I gave no order to move the ship!"

   "I didn't do it, alyt," replied the helmsman."

   "Take us back to our original position!"

   "The helm controls are frozen, alyt," replied the helmsman.

   Alyt Nelan was very irritated. "Do whatever it takes to regain control, but 
get us back into our proper orbit.

   The navigation console operator and the helmsman tried everything they knew 
how to do, but it was wasted effort. In a few minutes the ship stopped moving.

   "I think it's time for an object lesson, Alyt Nelan," said Lyta.

   Nelan turned to look at her. "What did you say?"

   "If you will observe the planet below and use your high powered optics you 
will see that we are directly over an island that is located about two hundred 
kilometers from the mainland."

   An image appeared on the display at the front of the bridge; the image 
showed a very heavily forested island that was thirty-two kilometers long and 
twenty-four kilometers wide at its widest point.

   "Watch the image, Alyt Nelan."

   As he turned his head to look at the display, Nelan realized it had been an 
order not a request. Before he could react to his interpretation of her 
statement, a very brilliant white light from the image lighted up the bridge. 
Nelan was momentarily stunned into immobility.

   "Watch and learn, Alyt Nelan," said Lyta in a low voice.

   As the entire bridge crew and their alyt watched, a cloud of smoke and dust 
rose into the planet's upper stratosphere and continued rising toward its 
ionosphere. Nelan turned to look at Ranger Jenkins. "What was that?"

   It took a few seconds for Jenkins to reply. "According to our sensors, alyt, 
it was an explosion."

   "I can see that for myself. What kind of explosion?"

   "It appears that it was some kind of non-nuclear explosion, sir. There isn't 
any appreciable radiation being monitored. A nuclear or thermonuclear device 
would produce a very high reading on our gamma radiation sensors, sir."

   Nelan looked at Lyta and asked, "What kind of object lesson?"

   "You're looking at it."

   "We're getting some measurements of the damage to the island, alyt," said 
Jenkins.

   "How bad is it?"

   "Our sensors indicate that the island is no longer there, sir," replied 
Jenkins.

   Nelan looked at Lyta with disbelief showing in his facial expression. "You 
are responsible for this?"

   "Of course," replied Lyta.

   Nelan looked back at the displayed image and noted that strong ocean winds 
were causing the smoke and dust to drift north, away from where the island had 
been. He knew that the image of the island had been centered in the display. 
Now, there was only boiling water. To him, it looked like the boiling water 
covered an area several times as large as the area the island had occupied.

   "Alyt," said Jenkins. "Sir, our computers have made an estimate of the size 
of the blast by using our sensor inputs."

   "What is the estimate?"

   "Sir. According to the sensors the blast created a crater almost a hundred 
and sixty kilometers in diameter and almost that deep. They show that the 
crater is symmetrical, something like the shape of an ice cream scoop."

   Nelan was totally speechless. He knew it would take an asteroid at least ten 
kilometers wide moving a great speed to even begin to cause that much 
damage. "What about that boiling water?"

   "Sensors are indicating that the explosion opened up something like a 
caldera that was located about fifty kilometers below the island."

   "How big was the explosion?"

   "As best the computer can estimate, it was about ten thousand megatons, give 
or take a megaton or two, sir."

   Nelan still looking at Lyta, whispered, "Ten thousand megatons and no 
residual radiation. It's not possible."

   Lyta said, "I suppose seeing isn't believing."

   Nelan returned to his command chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed them. In 
his mind he simply couldn't resolve what had just transpired. Opening his eyes 
he looked toward the front of the bridge. His mind reeled. The image was gone; 
Lyta was gone. He looked around the bridge. "Navigator! Where are we?"

   Looking puzzled, the navigator replied, "Sir, we are in orbit exactly where 
we've been for the last few weeks."

   Nelan closed his eyes again and thought, [Object lesson indeed.]

   "Helm, take us to a position directly above the island that had the odd 
sensor readings."

   A half hour later, Whitestar 89 was directly above the island where the 
Shadow laboratories were located.

   Alyt Nelan was looking at the image shown on the front bridge display. It 
was very green and heavily wooded. He wondered if it was as peaceful as it 
looked. Before he could finish the thought, an extremely brilliant flash that 
left him seeing nothing but black spots in front of his eyes blinded him. 

   A full five minutes later, with the spots finally beginning to fade away, he 
could see enough of the computer generated display to realize that the island 
was gone. This time, the flash had been several magnitudes more brilliant than 
the first one. As he was trying to get his thoughts sorted out, he heard a 
female voice in his head, {Object lesson completed.}

   Outside, and underneath Whitestar 89, Lyta's shuttle moved away from the 
larger ship and vanished into hyperspace.
 
******************************   

END PART 17

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