Get Off the Unicorn

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Authors: Anne McCaffrey
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hands above Isthia’s on Afra’s head.
    Together they probed, ignoring the mental anguish they experienced at having to touch so torn a mind. Uppermost was the thought that both Larak and Afra had shared: Sodan striking at them and Damia, exhausted, trying to block it.
    He’ll kill her, he’ll kill her,
was the repeated cry of terror, a curious melding of both Larak and Afra, swirling in the pain of Afra’s mind.
No, Damia. Don’t try. I waited too long. No, Damia
Then the enigmatic sequence was repeated.
    Damia lives, Damia lives,
Jeran and Isthia told him.
    Damia lives, Damia lives, Damia lives
, whispered the essence of Afra.
    Isthia caught Jeran’s eyes with surprised confusion. Hopeful now, they reinforced the will to live.
    Afra, Damia lives. She rests. She waits for you,
Isthia murmured soothingly.
    Sleep, Afra, rest. Damia lives,
Jeran urged.
    Damia lives? Damia lives!
    With a shudder, Afra’s body untwisted from the fetal curl. For one terrifying moment, he was still. Gasping, Isthia dipped way down into the suddenly tranquil mind only to be reassured that Afra had merely slipped into deep sleep.
    â€œHe’s very badly hurt, Jeran,” Isthia admitted sadly as they watched the medics wheel Afra away to a tightly shielded room.
    They opened Damia’s capsule together. She lay on her side, looking very young, but there were marks that showed the effects of that meeting of minds. She had bitten through her underlip and a trickle of blood ran in a scarlet line across her cheek. Her fingernails had cut into her palms when she had clenched her fists and her face was streaked with tears.
    With infinite compassion, Isthia turned the girl onto her back and laid both her hands lightly on Damia’s temples.
    I can’t reach them. I can’t get there in time. I hurt. I’ve got to try. I hurt. Oh, will 1 lose them both?
Isthia could hear the words faintly, deep in the tired mind.
    With a sigh of relief, Isthia straightened.
    Is she badly burned?
Jeran asked impatiently, having waited outside Isthia’s contact but aware it had been made.
    Not burned but deeply hurt on several levels. Damia’s been cut down to size,
Isthia remarked ruefully,
the terrible way only the very bright and confident are. She’ll never forget that she underestimated Sodan’s potential because she became infatuated with him.
    For all of that, if she hadn’t touched him first, where would we be with such a menace zeroing from space?
    Isthia waved that aside as of incidental importance.
    That won’t matter to Damia, Jeran. Her initial lapse of judgment caused Larak’s death and has seriously injured Afra.
    Merciful God, Isthia, once the attack on Sodan began, nothing could have saved Larak, no matter where he was in the focus-mind. Death is far kinder than being burned out. She’s not to blame.
    Isthia shook her head sadly.
No, she isn’t to blame and I hope it never occurs to her that, in the crisis, instinct overrode reason and it was Afra she struggled to save.
    Afra? What in hell?
asked Jeran before he followed Isthia’s thought to its source.
So that’s why Sodan struck to kill. He was after Afra.
    He stepped back as Isthia signaled to the medics to administer deep-sleep drugs and intravenous nourishment to Damia.
    With great reluctance they turned to Larak’s silent shell. Because they had to, they opened it and saw with some little relief that there was no mark of his passing on the young face. A curiously surprised smile lingered on his lips.
    Isthia turned away in tears and Jeran, too numb to display his own sorrow, put his arm around her to lead her away.
    â€œSir,” the captain of the ship said respectfully when they entered the control room, “we have the location of the alien ship debris. Permission to recover fragments?”
    â€œPermission granted. Isthia and I will return to the Tower.”
    â€œVery good, sir,” the

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