Nuala sighed and replaced the jars. "If we defeat Rudra, I will return to the calyx. There is no place in the world for me." Travis saw the blue eyes and the tiredness, the wisdom and knowledge behind them, and bit at his lip. She was right. Earth and Mars, even Cyngi and Lalande-80 would be boring to her. She knew too much to be happy with anyone less intelligent than she. And that meant everyone--except the Werwile. Travis swung his long legs in their torn spaceslacks off the table. He ran his hands over the broad leathern belt that held his _stil_-gun and holster, over the leather-and-cloth jerkin with the ripped sleeves. "Guess I'm ready to go. I feel good again. But I'd like to stay that way. Do you have another of those pencil-things?" He pointed at her girdle. She drew out the weapon and smiled, "You mean the displacer. It forces the electrons of an object out of their orbit. Turns them into other orbits, and makes them dust." She went to a drawer, drew out three of the pencil-guns, and handed them to him. "You will be safe with these." Nuala went to the pink barrier and beckoned to him. "Hurry. The sooner we surprise Rudra, the better." The _arklings_ left them strictly alone. They went up through the tunnels, past the carven walls to the ruins of the Nekkalad temples. Sprawled across acres of the barren, pitted surface of the planet, the white towers and jagged walls of the once-massive buildings were like huge play-things scattered by a child-giant in petulant anger. Nuala breathed, "Before Rudra came and smashed them, they were the loveliest things in all the universe." The silvered hull of Travis's spacer lay a hundred yards from the crumbled wall, on a bed of powdered black rock. Nuala walked around it, frowning. She shook her head, her long yellow hair fluttering about her shoulders. "It will never make the trip. There are things to be done to it." She looked at him, troubled. She asked, "Do you know what a Calakin curvature-annihilator is? Or a Wilwal warping-beam?" Travis shook his head. Nuala said, "I will have to make them, then. You do have a workshop, I know. I read your thoughts as you came toward Nekkalad. Even before that, in Mars Port with Martin Kent." She went up the metal ladder into the ship. She walked with calm assurance toward the repair room. Travis came after her, wondering, a little rattled. It was odd to see a woman so familiar with his life, with his own inner thoughts. He thought of Jonquilon, the red-headed dancer at Mars Port. Cheeks red, he settled himself on a bench, and watched her. * * * * * Nuala was murmuring, "We'll need a speed-up job on your rockets to get them through the Break. And a super-blaster to add to your own space-warper. Hmm ... wires all right. Sheet metal not too strong, but it'll do...."