The cabin seemed to darken at his words. It was an exploding star, operating at its highest energy level, Ravel's sun, that had burned Jennan to death as she had frantically tried to outrun its fantastic energy. But to have such a power. . . enslaved to her requirements?

She had to have it. An inner nova to expiate the crime of the outer. Hammurabian justice at its purest! She forced herself to listen to Breslaw's explanations.

"Admittedly, Helva, there are tremendous subtleties involved which, I readily confess, no one in my team is scientifically sophisticated enough to appreciate. It's almost as if the Corvi were discussing personal intimacies rather than sub-particular facts, but the result is a fantastic discipline of nucleonic forces.

"As you'll notice, Helva," and he pointed to the first cube and tapped the equations into the ship's computer, "the isotopes are permitted to radiate energy in cycles, but instead of a decrease in the energy available as deterioration occurs, the energy level remains constant. By varying the number of cycles initiated per second, or millisecond for that matter," and Breslaw beamed with paternal fondness for the abilities of his development, "the f.tl. drive receives the power it requires to exceed the speed of light by any multiple required. To traverse a given distance, in a given length of time, the original f.t.l. equations supply the rate of cycle variation needed!"

With an unexpectedly dramatic flourish for such a pragmatic man, Breslaw tapped out a set of voyage requirements.

"If you have to get to, say, Mirfak, in 2 standard days, you can, now. Instead of taking. . . oh, how long?"

"Four weeks." Helva supplied the answer absently, more intent on following the print-in of the profoundly interesting equations.

"Four weeks then. Well, you can see the advantages."

And then Helva understood what necessitated the new mission to Beta Corvi.

"One would scarcely try to release that kind of energy within a solar system without knowing the subjective and objective effects. What disadvantages have you observed?" she asked. "Are these computations based on experiment, or sheer theory?"

Doubt and concern dampened Breslaw's ardor. "We have tested the CV energy source, Cycle Variant. We took every possible precaution, used a very slow cyclage rate. It was impossible," he said, grimacing, "to keep the experimental vessel in range of the testing instrumentation. . ."

"The vehicle was manned, or BB?"

"Manned." Breslaw's answer was just audible.

"The effect of such acceleration on the personnel was fatal?"

"Not that we know of." Breslaw glanced sharply at Railly, who had been talking in a low voice to Parollan. Before Helva could turn up her audio, the two separated, Railly joining Dobrinon on the couch, leaving Paroilan alone, opposite them. Niall's face was inscrutably polite, his eyes guarded.

"Well, why don't you know?"

"The vessel has not returned. The estimated time of arrival is 9 years standard. It has been sighted returning on normal drive. Their last intercepted communication indicated we must proceed with immense caution in the use of this power source."

"Evidently. I'd also hazard a heavy hand was on the CV switch to get that far out of com range. You should have used a BB ship with no fragile brawns to clutter up the test run."

"There was also a suggestion that we may have misused the Beta Corvi data," Breslaw went on, nodding thoughtfully at her observation. "You can easily extrapolate the destructive potential of the CV factor. We must be sure we have not perverted the data and unleashed uncontrollable or unstable emissions that might have cosmic repercussions." Breslaw looked toward her, worried and hopeful.

That could be some pile to put rods in, Helva mused, although she hoped they wouldn't have to damp that reactor. Intergalactic travel! The test ship flung 9 years away from known space!

"First, I am gratified by the confidence you have in me, gentlemen," she said after a long moment. "However, I cannot help wondering if you selected me because, being Paid-off, in theory, that is, I am therefore most expendable, constituting no embarrassing debit loss on the fiscal records."

Only Parollan appreciated her levity and he laughed with uninhibited delight.

"Your facetious attitude is ill-timed, Helva," Railly remonstrated. "You are the least expendable of our ship personnel. I fail to see, Paroilan, the humor in such an outrageous suggestion." There was no mistaking the anger behind his reprimand.

"In that case," Helva said, "you're a low species of extortionist."

"What?" Railly bellowed, diverted from Niall.

"You know perfectly well, Chief Railly, that I'd want to possess such a drive once I knew of its existence. I'd certainly want to remain in Central Worlds Service to get it!"

Paroilan sobered instantly, staring at her.

"That's the game, isn't it?" Helva demanded, her voice cold because she was talking to Parollan and he knew it now. He kept staring at her, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

"Frankly, yes," Railly answered when it was obvious Parollan would not. "And there's not much time for you to decide."

"How so?"

Some subtle change in Railly's face roused her to a bitter anger. So this was how Central Worlds treated their BB ships. She should have called in Double M and SPRIM. She should have got in touch with Broley. Let Central Worlds fight its own fires.

"Central Worlds is bound by Federation directives, Helva, directives controlled and promulgated by the peoples of the civilized galaxy. There is no latitude on some of those strictures. You are under your original obligation to Central Worlds until those additional bonuses come through from Federation. After that, an entirely different set of directives controls the kind of authority, the type of contract, the wording and restrictions of the clauses, the payments and prerogatives of any further dealings we have with a BB ship. If we operated any other way, Helva," Railly went on implacably, "we would have the humanities' guardians scanning our tapes, sitting on our shoulders, hindering our operations. You have proved to be an extremely capable contractee. The Service needs you. Our need has, so far, been to your benefit. You have been given extraordinary opportunities to achieve Pay-off early in your career. We felt you might consider that at this time, when we are offering you the chance to be the first BB ship with a fully realized f.t.l. drive."

"If apologies are in order, kindly accept them. I did not realize that contract terms changed after Payoff was achieved. However, you can scarcely blame me for wanting to understand all the factors involved in what was only to be a discussion, pending confirmation of those rewards.

"Inherent in Commander Breslaw's explanation is the possibility that I could blow myself into a nova. . ."

"I protest," Breslaw jumped to his feet. "You can see that the theory is valid! It has been tested. . ."

"And scared you into taking the precaution of checking against perversion of data. I like my skin, gentlemen. I prefer it in one piece."

"Your shell is solid titanium," Breslaw said heatedly, "impervious to. . ."

"The full power of an exploding sun in my guts?" Helva snapped. "I've already suffered from the heat of a nova, Breslaw. And this solid titanium shell of mine has proved to be no sanctuary against injury. . . and the perversions of man."

Breslaw sank to the couch, utterly deflated. Of the others, only Parollan suffered neither embarrassment nor chagrin. He had jerked his head toward her column, at her rebuttal. His lips were set in too bitter a line even for the cynical supervisor. For a moment, his eyes were unguarded, reflecting a physical pain and an expression Helva had seen once before, in the eyes of a dying man.