Ti looked like a man sucking on a lemon. "Graf, you don't weld those things together out of scrap iron. I know damn well they make 'em all in one piece—something about joins impeding the field flow—and that sucker's three meters wide at the top end! The thing they stamp them out with weighs multi-tons. And the precision required—it would take you six months to put a project like that together!"

Leo gulped, and held up both hands, fingers spread. Had he been a quaddie he might have been tempted to double the estimate, but, "Ten hours," he said. "Sure, I'd like to have six months. Downside. In a foundry. With a monster alloy-steel press die machined to the millimicron, just like the big boys. And mass water-cooling, and a team of assistants, and unlimited funding—I'd be all set up to make ten thousand units. But we don't need ten thousand units. There is another way. A quick-and-dirty one-shot, but one shot's all we're going to have time for. But I can't be up here, refabricating a vortex mirror, and down there, rescuing Tony, both at the same time. The quaddies can't go. I need you, Ti. I'd have needed you to pilot the shuttle in any case. Now I'll just need you to do a little more."

"Look, you," Ti began. "Theory was, I was going to get out of this with a whole skin 'cause GalacTech would think I was kidnapped, and had jumped you out with a gun to my head. A nice, simple, believable scenario. This is getting too damned complicated. Even if I could pull off a stunt like that, they're not going to believe I did it under duress. What would keep me from flying downside—and just turning myself in? That's the sort of questions they'll be asking, you can bet your ass. No, dammit. Not for love nor money."

"I know," Leo growled. "We've offered both." Ti glared at him, but ducked his head to evade Silver's eyes.

A thin young voice was echoing down the corridor. "Leo? Leo . . . !"

"Here!" Leo answered. What now . . . ?

One of the younger quaddies swung into sight and darted toward them. "Leo! We've been looking all over for you. Come quick!"

"What is it?"

"An urgent message. On the com. From downside."

"We're not answering their messages. Total blackout, remember? The less information we give them, the longer it's going to take them to figure out what to do about us."

"But it's Tony!"

Leo's guts knotted, and he lurched after the messenger. Silver, pale, and the others followed hot behind.

*      *      *