Perhaps it would work again. There was no other hope.
But he could not call her Deirdre. He gripped the hard crystal. His thought probed out, forceful and summoning.
"Circe!"
Nothing. The eternal silence, the cold blaze of the stars....
"Circe!"
The gem in his hand leaped with eagerness. In emptiness above him a rainbow glitter of coruscating light flamed. The crystals—and, within them, the girl!
She had not changed. Lovely and alien, she lay among her dancing, shining gems, and her lashes still veiled the cryptic depth of her eyes. Arnsen stumbled forward.
"Where's O'Brien?" His voice cracked, harsh and inhuman. "Damn you! Where is he?"
She did not look at him. Her body seemed to recede. The jewels swirled into swift motion about her.
Arnsen lurched on. His mind felt on fire. He whipped out his elastic billy and plunged toward the girl.