The lights pulsed.

Sharp blades of ice exploded from the creature, freezing the screen.

That's how he saw her... "How did you get this image?"

Claire said, her voice barely above whisper.

"I drew it with imagining software," he said. "From memory. It doesn't do her justice. She was incredible. I wish you could've seen her, Claire."

The admiration vibrated in his voice and suddenly she was intensely jealous of herself.

"I've never seen anyone like her," Ven said. "Every psycher sees the bionet in his own way. I see it as shal ow ocean with islands. I was patrol ing when I got a ping from one of the Security Forces instal ations."

"I didn't know Guardian had any Security Force contracts."

"It's not a fact they want us to advertise," he said.

"Anyway, I swam that way and saw her. She had accessed a coral tree - the instal ation's data banks - and was coming back. She had to slither down a spike-studded channel barely wide enough to hold her. Thirty centimeters in either direction and she'd be skewered. It was insane."

He sounded obsessed.

"How do you even know it was a woman?" Claire murmured.

"A feeling I got. I brushed past her mind and it seemed familiar somehow. I've met her before. I've been breaking my brain trying to recal where and nothing." He rubbed his face.

She couldn't help herself. "May be she came to apply for a job."

"No. I would've remembered."

Oh you idiot.

"And I would've hired her." Ven sighed.

Claire set her now empty teacup on the table. "Just out of pure academic curiosity, what are you planning to do if you find her?"

"I'll drop to my knees and propose marriage on the spot."

What?

He leaned back and laughed. "You should've seen your face. I final y managed to rattle the imperturbable Claire Shannon."

She almost hit him. "Al this time in the bionet clearly altered your thinking patterns."

"If I see her, I'll try to buy her," he said. "Or kil her. I haven't decided."

"That's a bit extreme."

"If DDS finds her, they will do the same," he said. "Not only is she Grade A psychic, she's been trained. She has the kind of combat expertise that takes years to master.

During our fight she cloned herself. She actual y made copies of herself and they moved independently of her.

They lasted only a second or two, but it would be very useful in a fight. I've been trying to figure out how she did it."

It's not that difficult really. You shed copies of your outer thoughts within milliseconds of each other. Same process that produces your shadow. Claire clamped down on that thought before it turned into words.

"Well, good luck in your quest," she said. "I think I'll go home now. I've spent too much time in this building this week."

"That's an excel ent idea." He rol ed off the couch and stood next to her. He was half a foot tal er and he was standing too close. If she raised her hand, she could touch his face. "Come on a trip with me."

What? "Where?" she asked calmly.

"To the provinces. I need to see a friend of mine anyway, so we can pretend it's a business trip."

"And what would it be real y, if not a business trip?" she asked.

He leaned toward her a fraction of an inch. His eyes laughed. "It would be me and you getting away from this building."

What did that mean, exactly? "Your aunt wouldn't approve," she said.

"I can go whole days without giving a damn about what my aunt thinks. Weeks even. Come with me, Claire. You've never been to the provinces and Celino's wife is a fantastic cook."

She hesitated, stil not sure if the offer was genuine or if there was some hidden catch.

"It's not an order," Ven said. "Just an invitation from a friend. Whether you accept it or decline will have no bearing on your position with this company. I don't want you to feel obligated."

"I don't," she said. "How far is it?"

"About an hour by aerial at top speed. I promise to have you home before midnight."

"Why midnight?"

"When you take a young girl out with her parents' permission, it's understood that you must return by midnight." He shook his head. "It's just an expression.

Forget it. Come with me."

"Are you sure your friends won't mind my presence?"

"I'm sure," he said.

"I need to get my bag."

"I need to shower. Tenth floor deck in fifteen minutes?"

Fourteen minutes later she climbed into his aerial. Ven grinned at her. He wore civilian clothes: a dark pair of pants and a light grey shirt that molded to his chest and arms. His hair was stil wet from the shower and she smel ed a faint hint of his soap. She didn't know the name of the scent, but it made her want to kiss him and see if she could taste it.

"I'm glad you decided to join me," he said.

"Me too." She just hoped she wouldn't regret it later.

The aerial shot into orange light of the afternoon.

Ven pushed the com and typed in the number. A man's face appeared on the screen: masculine, intense, with harsh grey eyes. His hair was almost blue black.

Recognition flooded the man's eyes. He smiled and became a different person - warm, welcoming. "There you are. We expected you earlier."

"I'm on the way to you," Ven said. "Celino, I'm bringing a guest."

"What kind of a guest?" a female voice cal ed off screen.

"A young female one," Celino said. "She is a co-worker."

"Oh!" the woman off-screen said. "I better make desert."

*** *** ***

Celino and Imelda Carvanna lived in a beautiful two-story structure with cream wal s and a wrap-around balcony shielded by a green roof. Surrounded by orchards and trees, the house drowned in a vast garden, and as Claire walked next to Ven down the twisted path from the aerial landing pad, a sea of dahlias bloomed on both sides of her: peach, orange, yel ow, blood-red, deep purple, blue fringed with white, some large, some smal , some with wide petals, some with narrow frayed florets, others a mere single ring of petals around a flat disk in the center. It was as if someone had taken a rainbow, put it into a blender, and tossed the result out.

"Anemone," Ven pointed out different varieties.

"Waterlily. Bal . Starburst."

"I didn't know you were a botanist," she said.

"I'm not. Growing dahlias is like a national sport. I remember one year a neighbor somehow bred one that was indigo and wouldn't let anyone have any tubers. Almost started a feud. I think someone got stabbed over it."

Claire laughed.

"It's not funny," Ven said, smiling. "Dahlias are serious business."

Celino and Imelda waited for them on the porch of their house. On the ride over Ven had told her most of the details. Celino's family and his had been neighbors. Celino was twelve years older than Ven, forty-five to Ven's thirty-three, and the two of them didn't pay much attention to each other until Celino, who had become a financial shark and accumulated a huge fortune, decided to retire. He required bionet protection for his rather large fortune and business interests, and so he looked up an old neighbor. They soon became close friends.

Looking at Celino Carvanna now, Claire could barely see the traces of the ruthless financial magnate. He seemed perfectly amicable. Charming even.

"This is Claire," Ven said. "She works with me. Claire, this is Celino and that's Meli."

Celino smiled wide and nodded to her. "Welcome!"

"Thank you."

Celino slapped Ven's shoulder. "I have news for you. Come."

They went into the house.

Meli Carvanna smiled at her. She was short, dark-haired, with a big breasts and wide hips, and beautiful brown eyes on a tan face. She looked as if she belonged on the porch of this house, in the garden of dahlias, on this planet. This is what the women Ven grew up with looked like, Claire realized. Standing next to her, she felt at once awkward and inadequate. She would never be like this.

She shouldn't have come.

"No matter how much time Celino spent in the city, he's stil a man of the provinces," Meli said. "Men retire to discuss Important Business, and we women are expected to entertain ourselves by cooking. Since I already finished dinner, I say we revolt and drink wine on the balcony instead."

"Very well."

Claire fol owed Meli through the house to the balcony, where they sat in the padded chairs, a smal table with two glasses and a bottle of wine between them. Meli poured the wine into two glasses. The golden liquid fil ed the glasses.

"You must excuse them," Meli said. "Knowing Ven, the Sangori problem is driving him up the wal . There is nothing he hates more than being made to look foolish. He detests it. Always did, since he was a child."

"You knew him when you were children?" Claire kept her face careful y neutral.

Meli nodded. "We all grew up in the same area. Ven's cousin dated my youngest brother. Did I say something unpleasant?"

Claire looked at her. She was sure none of her emotions had reflected on her face.

"I'm trained to assess minute facial expression," Meli said. "Yours was one of distaste."

"Why would one require such a training?" Claire said.

"I'm an assassin," Meli said. "Or I was, rather. For many years. It's considered prudent to rapidly identify emotions in my line of work." She smiled. "It keeps you breathing longer. So why distaste?"

Claire looked at the flowers. "You reminded me that I am an outsider."

"Oh? Where are you from?"

"Uley."

"So how did you and Ven meet?"

"He hired me." Claire closed her mouth, hoping to leave it at that, but the older woman watched her with a rapt expression. Silence stretched.