You manage to doze a little for a few hours, but
you awake when you hear a hissing sound.  The
hinges of the door to your cell glow red, then
yellow, then white.   They're melting!
   "All right,"  Ling says from the other side, "I am
going to shove against the door.  When it begins to
fall, catch it.  And make certain, please, that there is
no noise."
   You place your hands against the door and care-
fully lower it to the floor.  Ling stands in the door-
way and looks around.  She is tiny -- and very
beautiful, you notice, with short, gleaming black
hair.  There's something about her that reminds
you of a Thoroughbred race horse -- fast and
powerful, but maybe a bit too sensitive and high-
strung.  She wears a black jumpsuit with dozens of
pockets.  These have been emptied by the
Omicron guards, but you quickly find out that she
has concealed much from them.

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