He trailed off, an odd look on his face. "What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said slowly, the look still there. "Something's not quiteright. I can't put my finger on it."

I was on my knees now, plasmic in hand, my full attention on the deck wherethe ferrets had emerged from beneath the bunk. Carefully, one hand on the edge ofthe bunk to steady myself, I leaned over and looked underneath.

Nothing. No one scrunched up in hiding, no mysterious packages ready to goboom in the quiet watches of the night, no indication of hidden bugs or bottles ofpoisonous spiders, no evidence of tampering at all. Just a plain metal deckwith a plain metal hull beyond it.

I got back to my feet. "Nothing there," I reported, brushing off my knees withmy free hand.

"Of course not," Ixil said, his face wrinkling in a different way. "We wouldcertainly have seen and recognized anything obvious."

I knew that, of course. On the other hand, it wasn't his bunk in his cabin.

"So how unobvious is it?" I asked.

"Very," he said, shaking his head. "It's rather like one of those ideas ormemories that floats around the edge of your mind, but which you can't quitetease out into the open."

"Keep trying," I told him.

"I will," he promised, throwing one last frown at the bunk and turning towardthe door. He was reaching for the release pad when, beside the middle bunk, the intercom crackled. "Captain McKell, this is Chort," the Craea's familiar voicewhistled through the speaker, the rhythmic thuds and hums of the engine roomin the background. "Is Mechanic Ixil there with you?"

I stepped around the bunks to the intercom and tapped the key. "Yes, he is," Itold him. "Trouble?"

"Nothing serious, I don't think," Chort assured me. "But I am in need of hisassistance. The readings indicate an intermittent fault in the Darryenmodulator relay, with possible location in the power-feed couplings."

"Probably the connectors," Ixil rumbled from behind me. "Those go out all thetime."

"So I understand," Chort agreed. "I thought perhaps you and your outriderscould either confirm or deny that possibility before I wake Drive Specialist Nicabarand ask him to open the conduit."

"No problem," Ixil said, tapping the door-release pad. "I'll be right there."

He stepped into the corridor and headed for the aft ladder. "Thank you," Chortsaid as the door closed again. The intercom clicked off, and I was alone.

For a few minutes I stood there, listening to the various hums and clanks andthrobbings, staring at my bunk and the wall behind it. I've never had any particular problems with the loneliness or unpleasant self-evaluation that forsome people make solitude something to be avoided. For that matter, given thatmuch of my human interaction lately had been with people like Brother John, solitude was in fact something to be actively sought out. I was tired, I'dbeen running low on sleep since even before that taverno run-in with Cameron, andunder normal circumstances I would have been on my bunk and asleep in threeminutes flat.

But if there was one thing certain about the Icarus, it was that nothing hereever approached what one might consider normal circumstances. And at thispoint, the latest express delivery of abnormal circumstances seemed to be whateverthe nameless oddity was that existed around, under, or inside my bunk.

Plasmic still in hand, I eased carefully onto my stomach on the deck again andjust as carefully wiggled my way under the bunk. It was a tight squeeze—athree-tier bunk hasn't got a lot of space underneath it—but I was able to getmyhead and most of my upper body under without triggering any bouts of latentclaustrophobia. I wished I'd thought to snag the flashlight from my jacket, but enough of the cabin's overhead light was diffusing in to give me a fairlyreasonable view.

The problem was, as I'd already noted, there was nothing there to see. I wassurrounded by a bare metal deck, a bare metal wall, and a wire-mesh-andmattress bunk of the type that had been around for centuries for the simple reason thatno one yet had come up with a better compromise between marginal comfort andminimal manufacturing cost.

I wiggled my way back out, got to my feet, and spent a few more minutes goingover the entire room millimeter by millimeter. Like the area under the bunk, there wasn't anything to see.

Nothing obvious, at least. But I knew Ixil, and if he said his outriders hadfound something odd, then they'd found something odd; and suddenly I decided Ididn't much care for the silence and solitude of my cabin. Replacing myplasmicin its holster, I pulled my jacket on over it and left.

I didn't expect there to be much happening aboard the Icarus at that hour, andas I climbed the aft ladder to the mid deck I discovered I was right. Tera wason bridge-monitor duty—with, typically for her, the door closed—Chort and Ixilwere back in the engine room, and Everett, Nicabar, and Shawn were presumablyin their cabins on the upper deck. I thought I might find someone in the dayroom, either eating or watching a vid, but the place was as deserted as the corridoroutside it. Either everyone had felt more in need of sleep than food, or elsethe camaraderie temperature reading aboard the Icarus was still hovering downaround the liquid-nitrogen mark. Somewhere in the same vicinity, I decidedsourly, as my progress at figuring out what was going on.

Just aft of the dayroom was the sick bay. On impulse, wondering perhaps ifEverett might still be up, I touched the release pad and opened the door.

There was indeed someone there, dimly visible in the low night-light setting.

But it wasn't Everett. "Hello?" Shawn called, lifting his head from theexamination table to peer across the room at me. "Who is it?"

"McKell," I told him, turning up the light a bit and letting the door slideshut behind me. "Sorry to disturb you—I was looking for Everett."

"He's on the bridge," Shawn said, nodding toward the intercom beside the table.

"Said it was his turn to earn his keep around here and told Tera to go to bed.

You can call him if you want."

"No, that's all right," I said, suppressing a flicker of annoyance. Strictlyspeaking, Tera should have cleared any such shift changes with me, but she andEverett had probably thought I was trying to catch up on my own sleep andhadn't wanted to disturb me. And the ship's medic was supposed to be available forswing shifts if any of the regular crewers were unable to cover theirs. "Howcome you're still here?" I asked, crossing the room toward him.

He smiled wanly. "Everett thought it would be best if I stayed put for awhile."

"Ah," I said intelligently, belatedly spotting the answer to my question. Withthe dim light and the way the folds in his clothing lay, I hadn't seen untilnow the straps pinning his arms and legs gently but firmly to the table. "Well..."

My discomfort must have been obvious. "Don't worry," he hastened to assure me.

"Actually, the straps were my suggestion. It's safer for everyone this way. Incase the stuff he gave me wears off too quickly. I guess you didn't know."

"No, I didn't," I admitted, feeling annoyed with myself. With the unexpectedentry of the Patth into this game dominating my thoughts, I'd totallyforgottenabout Shawn's performance at the airlock. "I guess I just assumed Everett hadgiven you a sedative and sent you off to bed in your own cabin."

"Yes, well, sedatives don't work all that well with my condition," Shawn said.

"Unfortunately."

"You did say he'd given you something, though, right?" I asked, swinging outone of the swivel stools and sitting down beside him. Now, close up, I could seethat beneath the restraints his arms and legs were trembling.

"Something more potent at quieting nerves," he told me. "I'm not sure exactlywhat it was."

"And why do your nerves need quieting?" I asked.