Small naked people scurried down a hallway, prattling about numbers and theories. Some stopped to stare at Jim before turning their attention back to the calculators and palm-top computers in their hands. Three of them ducked into a room to test a theory on a larger computer, its screen flashing mathematical formulae and statistics. On the other side of the hall a room contained a large collection of botanical specimens. One of this second room's occupants was measuring out liquid with an eye dropper. Satisfied with the dosage, the little man squeezed the fluid onto one of the potted plants. Electrodes hung from each of its leaves.

"You must be the Neutralian," surmised a feminine voice in perfect LOOP. He turned to see an elderly woman staring at him.

"I am Jim. Jim McGuire."

The lady regarded him blankly. Suddenly Jim remembered Meeka's reaction to his name. He tried a different tack.

"Jim Kolry McGuire. You may call me `Kolry', if you like."

The woman smiled in recognition.

"Then you are Wintaka," she stated flatly. "Please. Follow me."

As they walked up the hall towards a large set of doors Jim's hostess introduced herself as "Ghata".

"The council has asked me to be your guide, if that is your pleasure."

"Suits me fine. Thank you."

"Do you have any questions, Kolry?"

"Uh, heck, yes. First, where am I?"

"Why, here, of course!"

Ask a stupid question...

"And where, exactly, is here? What is this place?"

"This is our home," the guide explained.

"And who, exactly, are you?"

"I told you. I am Ghata."

Jim stroked his forehead to allay his frustration.

"No," he persisted, "I mean who are you people?"

Ghata stopped and turned to see if Jim was serious. Confirming that the question was posed in earnest she explained: "We are people, just like you. Except for our dedication to research."

"I noticed," Jim observed. "Is everyone here a scientist?"

Ghata nodded before making an observation of her own.

"You live among the fear-based, don't you?"

It was more of a statement than a question.

"Pardon me?"

"The fear-based. The Terranians."

"Oh," Jim stammered clumsily, "Yeah. I guess so."

"It must be very awkward for you."

"I get by," Jim shrugged.

The two had arrived at their destination: a small seminar room visible through windows in its large double doors. Jim could see five women and a man inside, all sitting in large leather chairs behind a long desk.

"Do you have any other questions before I leave you?" Ghata asked.

"Um, yes," Jim responded, "perhaps you could tell me what I'm doing here?"

The query took Ghata by surprise. She blinked her eyes incredulously.

"Why, for your appeal, of course!"

"My appeal?" Jim wondered. "What have I been convicted of?"

"Convicted?"

"Yeah. What is it I've done wrong?"

Ghata's eyes narrowed as she strained to understand her guest.

"Wrong?" she echoed. "You've done nothing incorrect. You're here to appeal for our help."

"Your help?"

"Yes," Ghata answered indulgently, "help for your friends."

Jim felt like a lawyer, appealing a case to a higher court. A lost case. Perhaps a lost cause?

Seeing that her guest was not asking any more questions Ghata excused herself and disappeared around the corner. Jim was certain that he would have to give another impassioned speech. He stood outside the conference room, waiting for the spirit of his mother and grandfather to inhabit him. Minutes passed. He felt no such possession taking place. Some of the occupants of the room began peering impatiently out the window at him. One motioned him inside. Jim could stall no longer. Gulping with apprehension he entered the room and stood in front of the six council members.

Each of the six nodded a greeting in Jim's direction. There was a pause as the council members looked at each other, trying to determine which of them would speak first. Jim mistakenly inferred that this silence was his signal to begin his presentation.

"I'd like to thank you for this opportunity to speak to you," he commenced, oblivious to the shocked looks from his hosts. "Your generosity is very touching."

Jim's mind raced as he scrambled for something to say. Thanks for having me here. Okay. Now what? He decided to pursue the generosity theme. Presumably, flattery would buy him some time without boring or offending anyone.

"My grandfather used to tell me that kindness was the footprint of the gods--"

"Please!" interrupted the male councillor, holding up his hand. "I don't mean to be rude but you must spare us your Wintaka platitudes. We aren't here to be lectured--"

The councilwoman next to this male councillor stopped him with a gentle touch on his hand and a mildly reproachful glance. She turned to speak to Jim.

"We have reviewed the text of this Neutralian debate and given it very careful consideration," she began. "We feel that it would be inappropriate to allow one side of this issue to argue in the absence of the other. We are, therefore, ready to render our decision without further discussion."

This lady conceded the floor to the woman on her right. While there was no visible sign that this second woman was chairing the meeting, Jim got the feeling that he would now be hearing from the committee's leader.

"Please understand, Wintaka, that our general purpose here is to observe noumena and phenomena. We do not seek to cause or effect these things. For us to interfere in the natural development of a culture would be tantamount to experimenter bias--a very serious transgression to us. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

Jim nodded. He had taken a few psychology courses in university and knew all about "cooking" data. In fact, that was how he'd managed to pass those courses!

"Then you understand that we must decline your request for aid. I am afraid that you will find no Wintaka here."

Jim awoke to find himself dripping in perspiration and shivering. He could not discern whether he was quaking from fear or cold. Considering his pounding heart, terror seemed the better guess. He lay in his bed for half an hour, reorienting and calming himself.

Once awake and dressed, Jim fixed himself a breakfast of bacon and tomato sandwiches. He washed these down with hot black coffee mixed with a touch of cinnamon--just the way he liked it.

As he walked Bernice he contemplated his latest dream. Should he be upset at the rejection? It was difficult to feel any disappointment here; after all, he could not remember filing any such appeal.

What disturbed him was the fact that during this dream he could remember the previous night's vision. After his initial slip, he knew enough to introduce himself as "Kolry". He understood when they mentioned the previous evening's debate. Typically, dreams do not access memories. One did not stop in the middle of one nightmare to recall another. Perhaps memory was another one of those "touchstones of reality" he had pondered the day before. Memory and doubt.

Whereas earlier Jim had been tentative about approaching the Mensaplasms, last night and this morning he was more than eager to talk with them. Bernice barked her objection to Jim's curtailing their walk.

"Sorry, Bern, but I've got work to do."

He extracted his newspaper and mail from the mailbox, strode into the house and threw them onto the coffee table. Later.

He left the house, stepped up to the water's edge, sat down and thrust his right hand into the pond. The ice cold water stung his skin until the Mensaplasms gathered around his hand, warming it with their pulsating bodies.

"Good morning, Jim," Pinky greeted.

"Good morning. Listen, I had another dream last night."

The Ponders' reaction to Jim's recounting of the dream was muted. It seemed to confirm their fear. It would have been an "expected disappointment" if that were not a contradiction of terms. Jim sensed that a quick change of subject might liven things up. He wanted to talk about his mother. Pinky had other plans.

"Jim, we sense that you didn't like our romance story much?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Well, I guess I'm just not the romantic type?"

"Oh, really? That's not the impression we get. Not when we listen to you talk about Sarah. Not when you mention Meeka."

"Meeka! God, was I that transparent?" Jim thought.

"Considering how we are communicating, Jim, I would say, yes, you are that transparent."

"I'd rather not talk about Meeka."

"This is privacy thing again, right?"

"Yes. A privacy thing."

"You men!" exclaimed Rose. "You always hide your best side! And you think women are hard to understand!"

Pinky was more sensitive to Jim's position. He intuited that Jim might want to withdraw from contact as he "heard" Jim think to himself: "Thank God they can't see me blushing!"

"Please, Jim, don't go away. Maybe you'd be more interested in some other type of writing. Say, maybe science fiction."

"Science fiction!" Jim snorted. "Hell, some would say I'm living in a science fiction novel!"

"Yes," Pinky concurred, "but you and I know differently, don't we?"

"Uh, huh."

Another random thought flittered through Jim's mind. What if this was science fiction? Or a dream, perhaps. But what about the dreams he'd had the last two nights? Was it possible to dream within a dream? No, that would be too recursive. Like the proverbial painter painting a picture of himself painting a picture of himself painting a picture of...

Maybe that was a third touchstone. Doubt. Memory. Dreams.

These could serve as criteria for any valid reality check.

As he considered this the surface of the pond burst into colour. An image of a uniformed man appeared. Pinky introduced this officer as General Bracca and explained that all non-LOOP conversation would be translated into English to avoid subtitling. The general was studying a three dimensional model of space ships in formation. A voice distracted him.

"Father!"

The view widened to include a young female soldier wearing a similar uniform, minus some of the insignia and decorations.

"Yes, Kata?" the officer responded.

"The Fleet has assembled. My fighter squad is ready. The OMLTs will be here within the hour. The Sinesics are less than a light week away. Perhaps now would be a good time to tell me what you have in mind."

"What makes you think I have anything in mind?"

"Please, don't toy with me, Father. You've promised the OMLTs that you and they would attack the Sinesics. You've told the Sinesics that you would lead the OMLTs here and then withdraw. The troops are wondering which of them you plan to betray..."

"Why, neither, of course!" retorted the general. "I have given my word to both enemies and a Ki'na officer's word is a Ki'na officer's blood bond. Didn't they teach you anything in training?"

Kata shifted her weight, chafing at her father's teasing.

"Father, there is another matter. The Sinesics outnumber us two to one. The OMLTs outnumber us three to two. How can we prevail here?"

"Are you frightened, Kata?" asked Bracca.

"No, of course not!" she defended.

"Then it seems that I haven't taught you anything, either."

The scene changed abruptly to another ship. A young man dressed in civilian garb toiled over a navigation panel.

"Dirka?" hailed a voice over the intercom.

"Yes?" answered Dirka in LOOP.

"There is a Ki'na fighter at 225 by 27, two light days distant. It is sending out a distress signal. Should we direct it to Space Base 491?"

"It is unlikely that 491 or any of the other Space Bases are still in existence," Dirka noted. "Patch the distress signal through to me and I'll send them an intersect coordinate."

"An intersect coordinate?" questioned the voice on the intercom. "Surely we can't allow a fighter pilot on board a Neutralian ship."

"We can at least effect any necessary repairs before sending them on their way," Dirka countered.

The next sound Dirka heard was a recorded distress signal.

"This is Ki'na fighter ship 90633, calling all relief vessels in this area. Your aid is requested at Starlog 16433 by 8011. This is Ki'na fighter ship 90633..."

Dirka raised his eyebrows at the sound of the voice.

"Computer! Tap into Ki'na military database. Query: pilot of Ki'na Fighter 90633."

The computer responded with a name: Kata Bracca.

"Kata!" Dirka aspirated the name. He quickly directed the computer to change course to 225 by 27. Light speed times 3.

"Dirka!" interrupted the voice on the intercom. ""

Dirka ignored the question. The next scene showed Kata recuperating in the Neutralian ship's infirmary. Dirka sat beside her bed as she regained consciousness.

"Dirka? Is it you?"

Dirka nodded as he clutched her hand.

"Then my circle is not completed?" Kata asked.

"No," Dirka replied, smiling. "You're very much alive. And the doctor says you'll be fine."

"And my ship?" Kata inquired.

"In bad shape, I'm afraid. Nothing that can't be repaired, though. Tell me what happened back there."

"Battle. A huge battle. My father..."

Kata stopped for a moment to gather her composure before continuing.

"My father had promised the Sinesics that he would lead the OMLTs into the sector and then withdraw. And that's exactly what he did. The OMLTs fought like cornered animals. But in the end the Sinesics swamped them. Wiped them out. My father had told the OMLTs that he'd fight alongside them against the Sinesics. So we descended on the battered Sinesics, fighting beside the dead OMLTs. It was carnage! In the heat of it all I saw our flagship go up. My father..."

"Is that when your ship was attacked?" Dirka asked.

Kata nodded.

"I don't know how many other survivors there were," Kata said. "Have you heard anything from the home world?"

Dirka did not reply. It took a few moments for the truth to sink in.

"Gone?" she cried incredulously.

"Along with Sinesia and the OMLT home planets," Dirka confirmed.

"All gone?"

"We've seen some military vessels on the tracking screen. The only civilian survivors that we know about are the people on this ship. We evacuated them before the trouble started."

"Dirka!" It was that voice on the intercom again. "There's an OMLT warship at 163 by 121, heading our way and closing fast. They're in range of our communication..."

The voice paused for two seconds.

"...right now. Their captain is hailing us. Should I put her through to you?"

"Yes, please do."

Dirka turned to the infirmary's view-screen. A very severe- looking woman appeared on it.

"This is Commander Vorach of the Oligarchial Military Leader's Triad. I see you have the Bacca bitch with you. I'd like to thank you for apprehending her and take her off your hands."

"I'm sorry, but that won't be possible," Dirka responded. "Kata will be travelling with us."

"Perhaps you did not understand me," the OMLT commander insisted. "I am demanding that you hand the prisoner over to us immediately."

"May I ask why you want her?"

"She and her father are responsible for the destruction of our entire expeditionary force."

"And you would like to extract revenge?" Dirka divined.

"She must answer for this."

"Haven't you learned anything from all of this? Haven't you at least learned that vengence always comes too late?"

"Better late than never," Vorach seethed. "You will hand the prisoner over to us. Now."

"Kata is our guest. Our patient. We have no prisoner."

"If you do not hand your `guest' over to us immediately we will destroy your ship."

"If you do that you will be killing all of us on board. Including the last of your own OMLT civilian population."

The commander's image disappeared from the view screen as she broke off contact with Dirka.

"She'll be back," Kata assured him.

"My thoughts exactly," Dirka agreed.

"Wakmaka," Kata joked in halting LOOP, referring to the special telepathy between intimates or close relatives.

"I thought you didn't believe in wakmaka," Dirka observed playfully. "Besides, it doesn't apply to friends. Only family...and lovers."

"I wasn't serious. I don't believe in that Neutralian mumbo-jumbo."

"Mumbo-jumbo? You know, there have been studies with twins, where wakmaka is strongest--"

"Save it, Dirka. What do you plan to do when she returns?"

"Reason with her. Run, if we have to."

"You can't outrun a Mark 12 warship in this bucket!"

"We can hope. Maybe the warship has sustained some damage. Maybe it will be called away to other priorities. And maybe its captain will think twice about wiping out the last of her kind."

"Don't count on that!" Kata snorted.

The scene changed to one showing Dirka standing in the ship's solarium, gazing at the heavens. Kata, fully recovered, enters and stands behind him.

"I didn't know you were so interested in the heavens, Dirka."

"I didn't know you were so interested in sending people there," Dirka retorted.

"So, you're still upset about me leaving the university for pilot training."

"I was disappointed," Dirka quibbled. "I had thought we were happy..."

"I was a Bacca long before I was a student. My circle brought me back to Ki'na. Home."

"You Ki'nans and your Great Circle!" Dirka baited. "Perhaps your circle is nothing more than an exaggerated point."

"Odd that you should mention that," Kata volleyed, "considering this voyage. What is its point? You're taking these people to a new planet so they can start all over again. Chances are they'll destroy it too someday. Who knows? Maybe we've done all of this before. Maybe it's nothing more than the greatest circle of them all!"

Dirka smiled but did not pursue the issue. He stared off into space.

"Thank you for fixing my ship," Kata said. "Thank you for everything."

Dirka did not look away from the celestial spectacle before him. Minutes passed before he spoke again.

"You're leaving again."

Kata did not answer.

"Is there anything I can say to change your mind?"

Again, Kata did not respond.

"This doesn't have anything to do with the OMLT ship, does it?"

"Partly. Vorach and I have some unfinished business. Business that doesn't involve you or your people."

Dirka turned to meet Kata's gaze.

"Listen," he started "we can--"

"No," Kata corrected him, "you can't."

Kata thought for a few seconds before continuing.

"Come to think of it, don't you Neutralians have a word for this? Kiyata, isn't it?"

Dirka grinned at Kata's gentle taunting. As she turned to leave Kata said her farewell.

"It's you that has a destiny, Neutralian. You and these people. Me, I'm just a Ki'na fighter pilot."

The door of the solarium closed behind Kata. Dirka stared back up at the stars.

"I love you," he whispered.

The scene switched to Kata, standing in the hallway, the solarium door closed behind her.

"I loved you, too."

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