The candleworks solved that, in addition to giving the inhabitants of Fiorina something different to do. There was plenty of the special wax in storage. One of those bulk supplies not worth the expense of shipping it offworld, it had originally been used to make test molds for new equipment. A computer-guided laser Cadcam would model the part and etch the wax, which would then be filled with plastic or carbon composite, and hey presto-instant replacement part. No machinery necessary, no long, drawnout work with lathes and cutters. Afterward the special wax could be melted down and used again.

The prisoners had no need for replacement parts. What equipment was necessary for their survival was self-contained and functioned just fine without their attentions. So they made candles.

They flickered brightly, cheeringly, throughout the works, dangling in bunches from the ceiling, flashing in lead molds the prisoners had made for themselves. The industrial wax of an advanced civilization served perfectly well to mimic the efforts of a technology thousands of years old.

Prisoner Gregor was helping Golic, Boggs, and Rains stuff the special extra-dense illumination candles into their oversized backpacks. The inclusion of a few carefully chosen impurities helped such candles hold their shape and burn for a very long time. They had no choice but to make use of them, since Andrews would hardly allow use of the installation’s irreplaceable portable lights for frivolous activities.

Not that the men really minded. The technology might be primitive, but there was no significant difference in the quality of the illumination provided by the candles and that 87

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supplied by their precious few rechargeable fuel cells. Light was light. And there were plenty of candles.

Golic alternated between shoving the squat tapers into his pack and food into his mouth. Particles spilled from his lips, fell into his pack. Rains eyed him with distaste.

?There you are.?Gregor hefted one of the bulky packs. ?This’ll top you off. Golic, don’t fidget about. What’s all this damn food you’ve got in here? It’s not properly wrapped.? The subject of his query smiled blankly and continued to stuff food into his mouth.

Boggs eyed him with disgust. ?What the hell does he ever do right??

Rains snorted. ?Eat. He’s got that down pretty good.?

Dillon and prisoner Junior appeared in the doorway.

?Hey, Golic,?the bigger man murmured.

The prisoner thus questioned glanced up and replied through his half-masticated mouthful. ?Yeah??

?Light a candle for Murphy, will you??

Food spilled from his lips as Golic smiled reassuringly. ?Right. I’ll light a thousand.?He was suddenly wistful. ?He was a special friend. He never complained about me, not once. I loved him. Did his head really get split into a million pieces? That’s what they’re saying.?

Dillon helped them slip into the bulky backpacks, giving each man a slap on the shoulder after checking out his individual harness.