Louis wondered. It had all sounded supremely logical back on Sentinel Gate. Darya Lang had insisted that the Torvil Anfract was an artifact, but no one had believed her. Her reputation was at stake. She would have come here, seeking proof. Bloom was sure of that, and Louis had been persuaded.

Now, he had his doubts. Darya, like Louis, knew only one way into the Anfract. The Gravitas was a lot faster than Darya’s ship, the Myosotis. So why had the ship trackers on the Gravitas seen no sign of Darya and her ship? It was possible that she was still ahead of them, on the other side of the Maw. But it was just as possible that the Maw had swallowed her — as in a couple of minutes it might eat the Gravitas. The Maw filled half the sky ahead, wide and gaping and infinitely menacing.

Louis felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and jumped a foot.

“Jeets!” He turned his head. “I wish you wouldn’t creep around like that. You might at least have told me you were coming.”

“My apologies.” Atvar H’sial’s pheromonal response lacked any shred of sincerity. No Cecropian ever felt apologetic about anything. “I did not wish to disturb you at what appeared to be a crucial moment.”

“Disturb away. It won’t make any difference what I do for the next two minutes. We’re going through that Maw, like it or not. I can’t stop us.”

“Then this is a good time for discussion.” Atvar H’sial settled down next to Louis. “With Genizee ahead, it is time to make our detailed plans. How do we take one adult Zardalu, and avoid taking a hundred — or being taken by them? I should point out that we would have had more privacy for this meeting earlier, within the hiatus. But you were unavailable.”

“You might say that. And speakin’ about what went on in the hiatus…” Louis had his eye on the circular perimeter of the Maw. A pale violet ring had formed there. It was growing inward, a closing iris, so that the black center of the Maw was steadily shrinking. They had to pass through that central tunnel. The violet region would disintegrate ship and crew. “I’ll talk plans, but first I got a question for you. I know you’ve been chatting with Glenna Omar through that terminal hook-up you made. What did you tell her about Darya Lang?”

There was a pause in the flow of pheromones — too long, in Louis’s opinion.

“About me and Darya Lang,” he added.

“It is possible that I suggested your interest in Professor Lang might be excessive. What makes you ask?”

“Something Glenna said when we were in the hiatus.”

“To you?”

“More to herself. She laughed, and she said, ‘I’d like to see Darya Lang do that.’ ”

“But what was she doing at the time?”

“Oh, nothing special. Nothing you’d be interested in.” Louis cursed himself for starting this topic of conversation. “Hold tight, At. We’re almost there, but this is going to be a close thing.”

The Maw filled the sky. The outer annulus had spread rapidly inward. It was more like an eye ahead of the ship now, a violet iris with at its center a tiny contracted pinpoint of black pupil. The Gravitas had to pass into — and through — that narrow central tunnel before the opening closed completely.

Nenda tried to judge dimensions. They ought to clear the opening all right. But how long was the tunnel? If it narrowed and tightened while you were inside it…

Louis ignored the symbolism — he was feeling sensitive this morning — and kept his eyes on the displays.

The Gravitas was inside, racing along a narrow cylinder of glowing violet. He was staring at the forward screen, where a pinprick of black still showed. The end of the tunnel. Approaching fast — and closing even faster.

The sky ahead turned black. They were almost through. There was a squeal and a dull crump, shivering through the whole ship. At the same moment, half the alarms on the bridge went off simultaneously. The lights failed, as though they had entered some new hiatus. After a split second the emergency power cut in, and Nenda could again see the control board.

He swore.

“Are we through?” Atvar H’sial had heard the curse, since her echolocation picked up all sounds. But she was not able to interpret it.

“Through — with half our ship.” Nenda scanned the monitors, assessing the degree of damage. “No, a bit more than half. I guess we count as lucky. But the Maw trimmed off quite a piece of the stern.” He began the inventory. “Lost all the aft navigation and communication antenna. Lost the fine-guidance motors. Lost the auxiliary air supply and water supply units. And the worst news: the Bose generators are gone. No more Bose transitions. From this point on, the Gravitas has to travel at crawlspeed.”

“I see.” There was no hint of alarm in the Cecropian’s response, but she understood the implications. “Assuming that we are able to emerge successfully from the Anfract, how far is it to the nearest inhabited planet?”

“Couple of light-years. Mebbe ten years travel time going subluminal.”

“An unacceptable option.”

“Not an option, though, ’less you got some ideas.”

“Problems with the ship are not my province. They are yours. However, I perceive that this is perhaps not the best time to discuss the strategy of Zardalu capture.” Atvar H’sial rose and made a stately departure from the bridge.

Nenda did not protest. Anyone who took a Cecropian as a business partner had to accept that race’s contemptuous view of all other species. Louis admired outrageous gall in any creature, human or alien. In any case, he suddenly had a thousand things to do. Top priority was an inventory, first of everything that remained on the Gravitas, and then everything that had been lost to the Maw. This ship, like all but the smallest unit construction vessels, had been built with fail-soft design philosophy. Chop it in half, and each piece would still have some residual capability. It would be able to support life, and perhaps to fly. But the details of what was left were going to be crucial.

Mid-ship auxiliary engines would let them move. The Gravitas could make a sluggish planetary landing on anything that had less than a standard surface gravity, and achieve an even more lumbering take-off. Nenda could not advise anyone that they were coming, but he hadn’t intended that anyway. The aft bulkheads would have locked automatically when the ship lost its stern. Nenda could not determine without direct inspection what might remain beyond them, but their doors were big enough to serve as an entry for a mature Zardalu.

So what had definitely been lost? Nenda studied the plan of the Gravitas.

The suits, for a start. Unless some happened to be stowed temporarily in the bows, he would be making no space-walks. Superluminal communication equipment was gone — no chance of sending a fast message of distress. Two of the three exit locks were on the lost section. One lock was left, unless you counted the hatches in the stern of the ship as possible improvised access points. What else? Much of the ship’s computer equipment. And every cubic meter of cargo space.

Whatever they might find in the Anfract or on Genizee, not much of it could go back to Sentinel Gate aboard the Gravitas. A Zardalu, if they managed to snag one, would have to travel in the general passenger quarters along with the rest of them.

Nenda grinned to himself as he imagined Quintus Bloom’s reaction to that. Bloom and Glenna Omar were safe enough, because they were in passenger quarters, up close to the bows of the ship. But the first sight of a live Zardalu ought to wipe that sneer off Bloom’s face.

Louis was no less exhausted than ten minutes ago, but he was suddenly on top of the world. They were alive! They had come through the Maw in a closer scrape than anyone in recorded history. They still had a functioning ship. The problem of working them out of the Anfract and all the way back home was the sort of challenge — Atvar H’sial had been quite right — that Louis absolutely thrived on. And just ahead, no more than a few hours travel even at subluminal speeds, the forward screen showed a bright marigold disc.