He'd lost the fight for Digen's life, but then Digen had been very old. She remembered a small brown vial of medication against a white sheet, spirited away and never mentioned on Digen's charts. "I've been wanting to ask you: what was it you gave Digen?"

Startled, he set her on her feet again, holding her by the shoulders. "Now who's reading minds?" At her puzzled expression, he rushed on. "What makes you ask?"

She told him what she'd observed. "Obviously, it was something Digen was accustomed to taking for 'tertiary entran' so it couldn't have caused his death directly. But I can't blame K/A alone without knowing what that stuff was."

He sighed, and then thought about it. "Laneff, you now have the right to know all I know about it, which isn't much. But I have to consult Azevedo first. Frankly, I don't see how the information can help you. Your goal now ought to be to teach someone else to run your K/A synthesis. Mairis has had teams on it ever since you were kidnapped. Even in your own lab, nobody has yet duplicated your results."

She leaned against the bench, idly pushing flasks around. "I was afraid of that. Jarmi hasn't been able to do it yet. And I've got nothing until it can be duplicated." This is supposed to be science, not magic. The operator doesn 't count.

She was still ragingly posttransfer, and the emotions of depression and hopelessness had taken over in the absence of sex. She plucked a bottle of the pure K/A crystals from a padded rack and turned it, watching the clean cascade. "It's so simple."

He took the bottle, turning it expertly, and said, "I wonder if– No. But . . . would you mind if I take this to show Azevedo?"

"What could he possibly do with it? We have to class it as poison

until we know if it caused Digen's death." But she gave it to him, andhe pocketed it.

"Would you try to teach Azevedo the synthesis?"

She scoffed, "He belongs behind a horse cart, not in a lab!"

Shanlun laughed uproariously. "Azevedo's a gypsy, so he must be ignorant and primitive?"

"I'm sorry," she muttered, crushed. Toying glumly with a half-empty beaker of trin tea, she sighed, "Things were so much simpler before you came!"

He slid off the stool and turned her away from the bench, his nager melting her tension until she leaned into his chest, listening to him breathe. His voice came as a rumble. "It's unhealthy to let post syndrome deteriorate into depression. And now that I'm here, there's no reason to."

Duoconscious, she was enjoying the texture of his nager counter-pointing the dark velvet voice, hesitant to let herself enjoy it. "In a moment, you'll go all colored-confetti again, and spoil this."

"Colored confetti! You zlin in color?"

"Doesn't everybody?" she asked languorously.

He shrugged. "Perceptions vary. Do you like this better?"

He was all golden now, seductive as he'd been with Digen. "I wouldn't if I were in need. Or rather, I would–but—"

"But you're not in need. Zlin me."

He stood back an arm's length, his formidably trained Donor's attention wholly on her. It wasn't what Yuan had done. But Shanlun held out his hands to her, and she took them, stepping into the fierce core of his nager as if into a different world. Something of the same effect she'd felt on greeting him hours ago burst through her body, only this time she could identify it, for it lacked the painful intensity. It's as if I were Gen!

The tide of life itself that surges within the Gen, erupting into manifestation at the core of each cell in the form of selyn, surged now in Laneff, rhythmically washing away the detritus of death left by need. Each wave felt better than the last, drawing her to anticipate a further thrill with the next.

Her tentacles twined themselves about his cool, Gen arms, complementing their deep, exploratory kiss. Without her volition, her laterals found contact, too, and his welcome of that sensation she gave him brought exultation. But even then, a tiny voice within had to reassure her: it's safe. You could never hurt him. In that moment, though, she couldn't imagine ever needing killbliss.

Hypoconscious, losing all touch with selyn fields, she was aware only of the tactile presence of male skin, fine tough male hairs, clean rough male pores, hard Gen muscle encompassing her as if she were a delicate treasure to be protected. The sharp perfume of him stung her nose.

Yes, she thought, this is much better than hysterics or depression. Never, though, had she experienced such abrupt intensity before, not even in post syndrome. Could this be part of being junct? She chased the thought and drowned herself enthusiastically in pure sensation.

His response was a tender melting accompanied by a surprising groan that was almost a sob of joy. As if he'd been rigidly holding himself back, maleness throbbed against her in long, even pulses. Breathless, he broke the kiss and whispered in her ear. "I saw a couch in Jarmi's office. It would hold two."

She hesitated. What if he can't? Considering that he hadn't had the demanding transfer with Azevedo that he'd been ready for, it was absurd to expect this to work. But if she stopped now, she'd plunge back into the depths of despair, or be seized by a three-hour crying fit. What's the difference, crying now or later? And it might—just might—work.

For answer, she locked her hands behind his neck and climbed up his body. He carried her that way, to the couch.

He took a very long time, leaving not a particle of her skin unstimulated. Afraid he couldn't end it, Laneff barriered herself from the sensations at first, but he was irresistible. He played with her consciousness, coaxing her hyperconscious as if she were in need, and feeding his sensuality into her nerves, pulling back to prolong the suspense and teasing her down to duoconsciousness where he tantalized her with symphonies of mixed sensations, and then plunging her into hypoconsciousness so that she lived in a skin flushed with expectation.

She forgot her fear of not finishing, forgot about the kill and her project, and rode with him up and down the levels of consciousness, unwilling to judge which level was better. The pace increased as he finally entered her; with every stroke he had her rippling through the levels of consciousness and finding the power of life in each.

She was astonished when he brought them both into intense climax, a crackling vortex of discharged tension, as well timed as any Sime could manage. Returning to her own world, Laneff thought, When he's post, he's not so slow and thorough.

He kissed away her tears of joy, catching his breath. "I've never been so happy, Laneff. It was as if I'd never had a woman before." "You've never treated me like that before!" He gazed down at her with a mischievous smile. "A Sime who's living on channel's transfer is a kind of virgin to be treated circumspectly."