He knew that this was not possible. Some outrageous trick of vision made the face and the slender body of a woman from another universe seem the counterpart of that remembered woman. But he knew it must be an illusion, for in a world as different as Zha surely there could be no human creatures at all, certainly no human who wore the same face as the girl he remembered. * * * * * Aside from the girl herself, there was nothing to see. The screen was blank, except for vague shapes--outlines--The helmet, he thought, filtered out more than light. He sensed, somehow, that beyond her stretched the world of Zha, but he could see nothing except the shifting, ever-changing colors of the background. She looked down at him without expression. Obviously the sight of him had wakened in her no such deep-reaching echoes of emotion as her face woke in him. She said, her voice almost unbearably familiar; a voice sounding from the silence of death over many chilly years, "Dantan. Samuel Dantan. Earthly language is as harsh as the Klanvahr I learned from Sanfel. Yet my name may seem strange to you. I am Quiana." He said hoarsely, "What do you want? What did you want with Sanfel?" "Help," Quiana said. "A weapon. Sanfel had promised me a weapon. He was working very hard to make one, risking much ... and now time has eaten him up--that strange, capricious time that varies so much between your world and mine. To me it was only yesterday--and I still need the weapon." Dantan's laugh was harsh with jealousy of that unknown and long-dead Martian. "Then I'm the wrong man," he said roughly. "I've no weapon. I've men tracking me down to kill me, now." She leaned forward a little, gesturing. "Can you escape? You are hidden here, you know." "They'll find the same way I found, up above." "The laboratory door can be locked, at the top of the shaft." "I know. I locked it. But there's no food or water here.... No, if I had any weapons I wouldn't be here now." "Would you not?" she asked in a curious voice. "In old Klanvahr, Sanfel once told me, they had a saying that none could hide from his destiny." Dantan gave her a keen, inquiring look. Did she mean--herself? That same face and voice and body, so cruelly come back from death to waken the old grief anew? Or did she know whose likeness she wore--or could it be only his imagination, after all? For if Sanfel had known her too, and if Sanfel had died as long ago as he must have died, then this same lovely image had lived centuries and milleniums before the girl at Klanvahr Fortress.... "I remember," said Dantan briefly.