It was a nice bonus. He welcomed it, because he was about to lose Rather Citizen. A dozen Navy crew in the fisheye view, unknown numbers out of camera range—

Jeffer bellowed, “Rather! What’s going on?”

“Wayne Mickl came back. Can’t talk.”

Kendy sent, “Get outside if you can, Rather. Mickl’s jets aren’t fueled.”

“I’ve got the whole treefeeding Navy here!” They were hesitating, but they wouldn’t for long. “They’ll swarm all over me like honey hornets — Hey!” Rather’s hands came in view holding a bag; ripped it open and flung it. The corridor became vague and golden.

Wayne Mickl could pull the cable! Was he still in the Library? CARM #2 had a hundred years of records to go…a solid block of data was running now, data that must have been beamed long ago by Discipline itself. Kendy knew he wouldn’t want to read that in full, not if it was records of the mutiny. He’d spot-check.

The other pressure suit emerged from the Library and jumped to join the fight. Good!

Rather’s camera view shot down the corridor, through dust and bodies. Navy crew grabbed at him, clung… and let go. It began to look as if he might make it.

What was running through Discipline’s receivers was a message from the State, from Earth.

Nothing in his own memory matched. Kendy pulled it and ran it. It was brief.

Rather jumped down the corridor, arms raised to block the men who blocked his path. Impacts slowed him. A burst from the jets compensated. Somebody was riding him, legs around his hips…a man impacted heavily against his helmet, slid across his chest, and was gone.

The silver man jumped him. The man who clung to Rather took the force of impact. They tumbled. Rather reached the door, kicked, swung himself around the jamb and was out in the sky. A burst of jets took him clear.

He paused then.

The silver man emerged and, twenty meters away and receding, stopped to put on his wings. Navy crew emerged behind him. Two flailed; they had no wings at all. The third couldn’t get his on. Fringe spores must have reached their brains.

That left only the silver man.

Rather grinned. He put on his own wings and kicked away strongly. “Kendy? Jeffer? Are you watching?”

“Jeffer here. I can’t get Kendy. He may be out of range.”

“Well, watch. This is going to be good.”

Mickl was catching up.

Rather’s radio sounded calm and a bit supercilious. “Rather Citizen, you can’t escape. Your wings are the right color, but they’re not Navy wings. You know I don’t want to hurt you. I had the chance to kill you and I didn’t. But the crossbow is all I have, and it will penetrate — make holes in a Navy pressure suit. There’s a hole in one of our suits because one of our Guardians turned mutineer once.”

“Don’t answer,” Jeffer said. “He’s guessing. Don’t give him a chance to test it.”

Mickl was meters behind him, but the drugged Navy crew were nearly out of sight. Rather pulled his wings loose, pointed his feet at the silver man, and fired his jets.

He was head-down to the Dark. Mickl was kicking hard, falling rapidly behind. A scream of shock or frustration burst in Rather’s ears; he found the volume control and turned it down fast.

The Dark was around him. He couldn’t see the other silver man, he couldn’t see the Market.

Jeffer spoke in his helmet: a tiny squeak until Rather turned the volume back up. “…due to rendezvous. I’ve got a ship moving north out of the Dark. Stand by…There’s a dark blob bigger than the cabin—”

“That’s Logbearer. They’ve got their mud.”

“Turn seventy degrees clockwise from where you were pointed and, oh, ten degrees north. Make your bum.”

Rather obeyed. Jeffer counted off twenty seconds: seven breaths. The Dark thinned.

“We’ve got to get rid of the silver suit,” Jeffer said.

“No.” I’m the Silver Man!

“I don’t mean feed it to the tree! I mean don’t have it when Logbearer gets home.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, and Kendy isn’t answering. I don’t even know what course he’s on now.”

“What if I don’t go back? You can pick me up with the CARM.”

“Sure, and what does Wayne Mickl say to the Serjents? You’ve got to face him and lie.”

Rather could see the Market far behind him. Was he in view of Navy instruments? But they’d have to find him, and he’d changed direction.

The deep voice of Wayne Mickl was small and full of the chattering sound of distance. “Rather Citizen, I will wait for you at Serjent House.”

“I heard that,” Jeffer said. “I’ve spotted you. Can you see Voy? Sixty-five degrees east, bum for five seconds. Zero north, there’s no point in getting higher. You’ll both be back in the Dark before you meet.”

“Jeffer? Why don’t you come get the silver suit?”

“…Stet. Here I come.”

Rather himself had spotted Logbearer now, above the plane of the Dark, foreshortened and trailing steam.

Jeffer said, “I’m on my way, but it’ll take me nearly a day. If you just ditch the suit it’ll fall back into the Dark.”

“It’s doing that now. You’ll have to find it somehow. I’ve got an idea.”

Rather flew through the Dark. He was using wings. There couldn’t be much left of his fuel.

He glimpsed a man-shape through the murk.

Carlot. When he opened his helmet she kissed him breathlessly. “I thought I’d never see you again! Did you do it?”

“Yeah. All of it, but the Captain-Guardian knows, or thinks he does.”

She talked while she helped him out of the suit. “Raym got too much of the fringe. He’s in the cabin getting through the hangover. Debby’s with him. She’ll keep him quiet. We’ve got our mud and four tons of walnut-cushion. Two Dark sharks tried to open us up. Debby took them. Rather, I’d hate to have her mad at me. We’ve got the meat, and I’ll show you tooth scars on the wood—”

“I hope they were big. I’m hungry.” He was out. He closed up the suit, leaving the helmet open. “Jeffer?”

“Here. I’m above your position.”

“I’m doing it.” He closed the helmet. He turned the pressure dial high and the temperature low. The suit grew rigid. “Now I want to start a fire.”

“In the Dark that won’t be easy.”

“Help me. That…fisher jungle, I guess it was.” He indicated a mass of dry brush with white things taking root in it. “Help me push the legs in.” They pushed the suit into the decaying fisher jungle. The branches still had some strength. Rather got a good grip, then closed a jet key with his toe. Flame blasted through the rotting fisher jungle; the suit tried to escape. He let the jet run for several breaths before he turned it off.

“Jeffer should find that okay,” he said. He was guessing and he knew it. “Then tell me! What happened?”

He told her some of it while they searched out Logbearer. The rest would wait. Clave and Debby would have to wait to hear the tale, since Raym could not be allowed to. And Rather would have his chance to eat and sleep.

He was exhausted.