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“My diagnostic unit chuckled to itself for a good two hours after you left, Kai, but it came up with medication and a few tentative conclusions. It rarely makes definitive statements. You are Lunzie, aren’t you?” Mayerd asked, juggling her parcels so that she had a free hand to extend to Lunzie.

“I am and I surmise that you are Lieutenant Commander Mayerd.”

“Mayerd’ll do.” Then she turned again to Kai, grinning. “Not only did that fringe digestive juice poison you, Kai, but you are allergic to the poison. My DU not only came up with tablets to help flush the poison out of your system and counteract the allergy but also a salve to anoint the punctures and reduce that desensitivity. And DU highly recommended the new nerve regenerative.” She turned expectantly to Lunzie. “The Crimjenetic: the regenerative we had to use to combat the Persean paralysis.” When Lunzie’s expression remained polite but otherwise unresponsive, Mayerd blinked. “Ah, but you wouldn’t have known about that. It happened twenty years ago . . .”

“During a nap I took,” Lunzie commented.

Mayerd smiled. “You’ll want to read up on this Crimjenetic then. It has proved remarkably effective on all kinds of bizarre nerve poisonings. And I’ve some disks on the latest Federated Medical Review I can lend you, as well, to make up for that naptime. Remind me this evening. Which brings me to these . . .” She handed out the parcels. “I thought green for you, Lunzie. Medical research has proved that our profession choses green as their favorite color nine to one. I hope you’re not the odd one out.”

“I generally am, but green is a flattering color, and you were very thoughtful to fill the need.”

“I got the notion that dress clothes might not have been on your most needed list and, after I saw the preparations going on in the officers’ mess, I decided I’d better play costumer for you. Blue for you, Kai, and this garnet red should be most becoming, Varian. Sorry about arriving unannounced. Those pteranodons of yours are magnificent.”

“So are these,” Lunzie said, one blunt-fingered hand stroking the deep green fabric. “Just how big are the Zaid-Dayan’s stores?”

“Pretty damned all-inclusive,” Mayerd said with pride. “We’re only four months into this tour so our supplies are basically untouched. Maybe not esoteric. Why? What do you need?”

“A few odd domes, some heavy duty force-screens . . .”

“Capable of frying fringes?” Mayerd asked with a sympathetic chuckle.

“You got it in one!”

“Just hand me your list. Clever of you to be related to the commander, isn’t it?”

“Providential!”

“We haven’t actually written up a list yet,” Varian said. “We only just decided to leave here before the giffs lose their fur in fright.”

“A cavern did seem an odd place to set up as a major campsite,” Mayerd remarked.

“It was a good port in a . . .” Varian broke off her sentence because one of Ireta’s sudden boisterous squalls erupted, blowing the vines inward, rain and debris falling just short of the little group.

“Not that the heaviest duty force-screen would keep off that sort of storm,” Mayerd said, establishing herself beyond the storm wrack on a hearth stool. She took a pad and scripter out of her thigh pocket and looked about her expectantly. “Now, how many domes? How large a force-screen? Furnishings? Supplies? Old lamps for new?”

By the time Mayerd had left, she had prompted a far more exhaustive list of requirements from them than they would ever have listed without her encouragement. When Varian suggested that they might be overdoing it, Mayerd dismissed the notion immediately.

“Sassinak has given orders that you are to be given any reasonable quantity of supplies—”

“I wouldn’t call that exactly reasonable,” Varian said, indicating the filled pad.

Mayerd regarded her with eyebrows raised in polite surprise.

“When Sassinak sees domes, force-screens—”

“Sassinak,” and Mayerd paused briefly to emphasize her commander’s name, “won’t see a trivial list like