The first clear thoughts to enter her mind were a string of related questions. Her attacker had been a belter-that much was clear-and his sharply filed teeth marked him as a member of the Society of Binding Light, a fanatic religious cult that had established a colony on Ceres more than a hundred years before. But why had he been in Susan's rooms? How had he gotten past the door's spore- lock? Why had he attacked her, and why hadn't he used his stun pistol? Finally, how had he pulled off that vanishing trick?

That last question was the real stumper. One instant he had lain on the bathroom floor. The next he was gone.

But to where? And how had he accomplished it?

Again she thought of those whose job it was to ferret out that information. Her first task should be to contact Base Security.

She opened her eyes, then stood somewhat shakily and went to the holo- phone on the far side of the room. As she entered the lens cluster's field, the device activated with a date-time display-two-feet-high glowing red letters and numerals hanging in mid air: OCT. 3, 2187-0738.

"Base Security," she said. "This is a priority emergency."

Instantly the date-time display disappeared, replaced by the three-dimensional image of a man sitting behind a small wooden desk. Perhaps twenty or twenty- five, he was dressed in a black uniform with white corporal's stripes on both sleeves and a gold Base Security emblem over his left breast.

The young man reddened, his eyes becoming large and round with surprise. He reached out to the controls set in the desk top and his image vanished, supplanted by the date-time display: OCT. 3, 2187-0739.

"Are you still there?" Susan asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm still here," the young man's voice said, issuing from thin air.

"Is something wrong with the equipment, then?"

"The equipment is fine. I disconnected visual when I saw you weren't dressed."

Susan forced her sudden anger down. "Just a minute," she said, not bothering to hide her contempt. Earth-side, her nudity would have gone unnoticed.

She went into the bathroom, pulled a towel from its rack beside the shower, and dried herself. Toweling her hair, she returned to the bedroom and went to the closet. She dropped the wet towel on the bed.

Reaching into the closet, she took down a red Fleet jumpsuit uniform with gold captain's stripes on both sleeves. She stepped into it and sealed the pressure- sensitive fastener up its front. She drew matching boots from the closet and pulled them on, then fastened a utility belt containing numerous small pouches about her waist. She checked the middle pouch for her LIN/C, then snapped it closed again.

Log and Interface Neuro/Computer-a highly sophisticated, smart-card device functioning as both personal log and human/computer interface. An outgrowth of late twentieth century technology, at first the LIN/C had contained merely medical and payroll records, but later also held a complete service history. More and more was added, until by the year 2100 it included myriad sensors and a microminiaturized transmitter.

Each member of Fleet, as well as the civilian Survey Service, carried a LIN/C. It served not only as a personal memo and computer tie-in, but also continually transmitted a powerful locator signal to either the Fleet or the Survey Service computer on Luna through a network of satellites scattered throughout the solar system.

Again Susan positioned herself before the phone's lens cluster. Taking a final tug at her uniform, she brushed a stray wisp of hair back over her shoulder and announced:

"I'm dressed. You can re-activate visual now."

The date-time display vanished, and once again the young corporal sat facing her. His face was still red as he cleared his throat and spoke.

"What can I do for you, uh, Captain?"

"I was just attacked in my rooms. You can tell me how he got in here."

"Attacked…In your rooms…Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." Susan glared at the young man's image. "Look-" she began, almost telling him what had happened. But she decided against it. The corporal would only kick it up his chain of command, and she would have to tell her story all over again. Instead, she said simply, "Get me your watch captain."

"Yes, ma'am." Again he reached out to the controls set in the top of his desk, and his image was replaced by the date-time display.

While she waited, she ran through in her mind what she would tell the corporal's supervisor. That a man had tried to kill her, then vanished into thin air? That sounded too improbable.

And yet, it was exactly what had happened.

Suddenly, she wondered if perhaps she might be making a mistake. The man who had attacked her had been wearing a Base Security uniform. Could there be a conspiracy of some sort to kill her-something in which Security was involved?

That was impossible! The thought was strictly paranoiac.

Still…

The image of a large man of about sixty appeared, scattering those thoughts. He wore a gray flat-top haircut and Base Security uniform, and sat behind a desk identical to the corporal's. He smiled out at Susan in an almost fatherly fashion. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke.

"I'm Staff Sergeant Evans, Captain. How can I help you?" His voice was deep and pleasant, and without thought Susan returned his smile.

"An attempt has just been made on my life," Susan responded, "here, in my quarters."

"So I've been told." He looked down and to his left, obviously watching a display set in the desk top. His face wrinkled in a frown. "We haven't received record of the occurrence from the Fleet computer yet."

"I wasn't wearing my LIN/C."

The staff sergeant's gaze snapped back to Susan and his frown intensified, further creasing his features. "Why not?"

"I had just stepped from the shower."

He nodded. "That is unfortunate. So, the Fleet computer doesn't contain a record of the incident." He was silent for a few seconds, then said, "But my locator readout shows you are wearing it now. Tell me what happened. Meanwhile, I'll send an investigation team out to inspect the area for physical evidence." He nodded to someone outside the transmitting holo-phone's field of view.

Susan told Evans about the attack, and the smart-card in the pouch at her waist transmitted to the Fleet computer not only everything she said, felt, remembered, and thought about the experience, but also her pulse and respiration rate, pupil dilation, galvanic response, and several other physiological indicators. That transmission would constitute her legal statement, colored by her perceptions and emotions, in lieu of a record of the actual occurrence. It would be forwarded almost instantaneously to the Base Security computer.

"Could it have been a case of mistaken identity?" Evans asked when she had finished her story.

Susan shook her head. "Like I said, he used my name."

"You confirmed it to him?"

"I had no choice. He used the Voice."

"Then it's lucky you crushed his larynx when you did. And you say he simply disappeared?"

She nodded.

Evans frowned and his gaze narrowed. He was silent for a few seconds. Finally he asked, "How long have you been on Luna, Captain?"

"Nearly eight hours. I arrived on the shuttle just before midnight."

"And what brings you here?"

"Fleet Admiral James Renford sent for me from Earth-side. I have an appointment with him this morning."

"You are on the Admiral's staff?"

"That's right."

"Here on official Fleet business?"

"Yes."

Evans nodded. Even if Susan knew more, she couldn't tell him, and he knew it. "You just sit tight until my people arrive," he said. He punched a button before him and his image vanished.

The date-time display read 0744.