no basis. Rack had no doubt that to dig in most sinkholes would mean death. He could feel the deadly hard projectiles on his scales when he merely walked close by a sinkhole. But if the law was not in total error, it was at least subject to exceptions, for in that wonderful, pure-aired valley, he had seen and felt the subsurface and had found there a piece of material that brought to mind other serious questions about the wisdom of his civilization. Rack prowled his establishment, breathing carelessly. He slept little, and awoke to find his russet loins turning a pinker, brighter shade. He pictured Beautiful Wings the Power Giver and the image was unbearably sweet. He remembered her response when he suggested that he would return, and he contemplated the loss of his only readiness, for to have more than one change in life was rare. He was young. He felt that he was in the right. «If I am a law-breaker,» he told himself, «then I am lost. But the sins of the father should not be extended to cover his seed.» With his loins pink and bright, such thoughts seemed natural. Nature moved in him, making chemical changes in his body, sending delicate urges into his brain. By the midpoint of the day, he had made his decision. Red Earth, in his intercepted thoughts, had indicated that he would contact every Far Seer east of the river. Such an endeavor would take time and energy and would, Rack estimated, cover the period of this day, another day and possibly still another. The establishment of Beautiful Wings the Power Giver was a quick jog away. If he were a criminal, then he was not responsible for his actions. Moreover, he could be punished only once. And once implanted in Beautiful Wings' body, his seed would be life, and thus sacred. He stored a maximum quantity of air, packed his winter's supply of broth and a sealed container of closely crowded Breathers to add to Beautiful Wings' colonies. He marched swiftly, heavily burdened, not able to breathe in the fierce storms that had now reached their peak of deadliness. She was waiting, sensing his coming from afar, meeting his mind and discussing the situation as he jogged through the atmosphere-darkened emptiness. At first she was shocked and reluctant to grant him entrance, but his emotion-filled thoughts found an echo in her own feelings. The emotions of a Power Giver at joining time were nature's strongest force, and she had witnessed Rack's beginning tint, had felt the strength and power of his personality, and had seen the beauty of his body. She stood inside the establishment, unable to control the flowering of her chest scales as he entered. They opened out delicately, flaring in a curling sheet, forming a ring around delicate pinkness of the flesh of motherhood, the flesh from which the offspring would feed. The first sight of her sent a blast of fierce heat through Rack's loins and he felt his own scales stir. He sent beauty, beauty, love. And she answered with a sweetness that made his knees weak. Quickly he joined his container of Breathers with her colonies, making the colony sufficient for two. Then, his gills having been vented in the lock, he loosed stored air from his huge body and felt his storage cells give gladly to share with his love. In a sweet, rich plenty of air they stood gazing at each other, inner lids wide. Rack's vibrant blue eyes sparkled with his energies. He could see far into Beautiful Wings' soul, and it was open to him, sending potent, beautiful thoughts of submission and love. «You, too, may be punished,» he told her. «No punishment could take away the memory of this,» she answered. «We have"—he sent a picture of the time remaining before Red Earth could complete his contact with the eastern Far Seers. «Then he will notice that I am not in my establishment.» «When I first saw you, when I was a child, I dreamed of this day,» she said. «Our time could be shortened if he discovers me here. You would, thus, be robbed of your heritage.» «But we will have created life.» she said. Life cannot be destroyed. The picture of incredible passion she sent made him gasp. The beauty of her tender, exposed chest buds sent a rich, red glow moving up from his loins. He felt his scales spread wide. «Before I throw aside my covering,» he said, «be sure, Beautiful Wings.» «I will be content with one night, if that is all fate will allow. My only fear, my only regret, is for you. For as you know, the mind of a Far Seer is powerful.» «In all of history there has been no record of a Far Seer destroying life.» «But he is agitated. In all of recorded history no one has dug.» She sent the last picture regretfully. «I think not of myself,» he sent. «But of you.» «For me the mere throwing aside of your covering will open a world of delight,» she said. Slowly he drew aside the opaque covering. His maleness was fiery red, his scales folded back on themselves to reveal the never-before exposed beauty. She made an audible purr of pleasure and drew aside the belt of fashioned Material to show that she, too, was at the height of her readiness. He knew then the full picture of her name, derived from an age-old picture of wing-like organs, fragile, brightly colored, delicate. He had never seen such loveliness and his entire being vibrated as she moved languidly toward him. «They tremble and hunger for your touch,» she sent in softness. His eyes caressed the pink, exposed breast buds, his fingers trembled as they touched them and slid down her soft body. The red tint of his sex grew and sent scales folding back as his maleness fully emerged. She, in trembling wonder, touched it with her hand. «Now we will join,» he whispered, leading her to the rack. She sat down, legs crossed and he duplicated the position, looking deep into her brown eyes, letting himself swim there, fall, merge. He knew the fullness of her mind, let his mind lose its individuality as she came into his and locked. He knew her most basic thoughts as she knew his and a rapture lifted them out of time and space. Their limbs, bent under their bodies, felt the strain but did not register discomfort as the night fell and the planet spun on its axis and swam toward the new beginning. They required neither food nor air. They fed on themselves and on each other. Throughout the long, dreamy night, as the storm raged and the survival factor reached its lowest point in the sun circle, they caressed minds, and when at last the sun glowed through the poisons of the outside they reached a state of pure ecstasy and not even the force of Red Earth's anger could have broken their locked emotions. She came to him with the sinking sun. Her swollen chest buds were a delight under his fingers. Her exposed, ruby red femininity drew him, and the union began, sweet and true and of such a totality that the Breathers, half-life that they were, stirred uneasily in their colonies. He breathed pure air into her open mouth and merged with her. Softness met softness—his penetration joined them and their two locked minds heard her purring audibly as the day passed without notice. Another night found them poised on the brink of the ultimate experience, and as it happened she cried out, her expelled breath sweet. VI In rare cases, when love was strong, the joining urge was not satisfied with one experience. Thus it was with Rack and Beautiful Wings. So perfect had been the preliminary union of their minds, so sweet was the seed planting, so devastating the pleasure, that his tint become only more fiery and her ruby femininity did not fade. True, her chest buds were covered, and her scales folded, as were his, but their powerful emotions continued to rage. Had they not been in the grip of nature's most powerful force neither of them would have considered the desperate measure suggested, at the height of their joining, by their combined minds. It was a suggestion so desperate that both, the total unit of them, knew that it was unthinkable. And yet that unit, that combined thing, had also predicted that their urges would not be cooled with one experience. That rare miracle had happened and they were to be given another experience. But time, they knew, minds separated now, was running out. Both were still aware of the suggestion. Both rejected it. Yet both knew that time would be required for the scales to open again, for her to flower. Time they did not have, for Red Earth's powerful mind would soon find Rack. They had no idea what would happen then. They knew only that they would be separated and the thought was intolerable. Outside, the survival factor was fearfully low. To take the desperate measure—to escape, if only briefly, the surveillance of the Far Seers— would mean going out into that hell of poison. A brief exposure would not seriously harm Rack, but even a short time outside, with the atmosphere giving off potent projectiles, was folly for a Power Giver. The time spent outside would be subtracted from her life, in expanded pictures of the unit spent outside. But she was feminine, in love, in change, and filled with the glory of having, perhaps, a new life in her. «I will not be robbed,» she sent. He protested, but he too, was in love. He, too, felt the potent biological, chemical, and emotional stresses. Outside he could breathe for her, giving her air from his lungs, but he could not, short of wrapping his more thickly scaled body as tightly around hers as possible, shield her from the deadly projectiles. «It is my life, love, and I will gladly spend part of it,» she sent. «I cannot allow it.» «I will not live long if you are sent to the south.» He could feel the power behind the statement and he believed her, for in rare cases the union produced a lifetime of love, an ability to blend minds even when nature forbade the joining of bodies. «I would hate myself, I would die myself, if your life were shortened,» he argued. «Then we die together.» Together they packed the broth, a supply sufficient to last both through the winter. Together they loaded the Breathers into travel containers of the Material. He winced as he measured the load she would have to carry. But they were now committed, for a tentative probe from Red Earth's mind had located him, then drew back. Red Earth was mustering the powerful force of his mind to act. Rack knew not what the shocked Far Seer would do. Immobilization was the least he could expect. He quickly depleted the establishment, storing its last remaining air in his huge lungs, and numerous cells. As Beautiful Wings lifted he wept, for he could feel the drain, the using up of her force. And she, not blessed with his healing powers, could not repair the damage. He held her tightly in his arms, giving her air from his mouth, protecting all of her that he could with his superior armor. The ascent took its toll and when they were finally above the high clouds she breathed furiously of his stored air, trying to regain some of the loss. The soaring was not as strenuous, but the descent through the roiling clouds, as she fought the pull of the earth, caused waves of pain to sweep through her. He shared them in his mind, if not in his body, and his entire being cried out at the injustice of it. It should have been he who was sacrificing for their love. On the thin film of icy frost of the far north he held her and gave her a lungful of his good air. Then he entered the closed establishment of Northern Ice the Healer, her late father, set the Breathers working, and emptied his store to replenish the barren establishment. She lay weakly on the rack, breathing with difficulty. He wept openly. Once again he had been criminally foolish, and this time his actions harmed not himself, but the one he loved. Both had underestimated the weight of her load, the distance, and the height of the clouds and now she was paying for it. Her very substance had been used. She looked thin, drawn-out. But she smiled at him and directed his attention to her breasts, which were being exposed slowly as she flowered. The ruby tint spread and her lower scales opened and those delicate, soft buds swelled with nature's bounty. «Poor Rack,» she sent. «Don't suffer more than I, for I gave myself gladly and would do it again.» Twice blessed by nature, they were alone in the far north, beyond the full strength of Red Earth's punitive measures. No Far Seer was near enough to intrude upon their privacy. The hardworking Breathers expelled good air and made the long vacant establishment comfortable. The unaccustomed chill served merely to invite body closeness. The fiery tint of love added richness to the body tones of each of them, and the delicate flowering of the chest bulges of Beautiful Wings belied her weakened condition. Even as her ravaged body felt pain, the powerful joining forces overcame all but a slight discomfort that, when her mind sought Rack's, brought a wail of sorrow from him. He held her, standing, her chest hard against his, his arms supporting her, saving her remaining strength. More than anything in his world he wanted to lift the suffering from her, to take it into his body, where it rightfully belonged, for the entire situation was of his making. The soft tendrils of her mind pressed at his shame points, caressed his pain and sorrow. «I will live to give birth,» she told him, inside him. Her body anticipated and Rack felt the wonder of growth, the swelling of life. He knew the movements of labor and the emergence of a new life. He could not help but exult. They moved into oneness and a fierce pride of achievement sent strong radiations reverberating around the domed establishment. Their new ecstasy mounted until, facing each other, seated cross-legged on the rack, the beauty of their union was all. There was total communication and the joy of deep emotion, emotion that would be as strong in memory as the actual physical sensations. Rack experienced a bewilderingly powerful sadness mixed with the most complete happiness he had ever known, for he was loved to the point of the exclusion of the most basic value of all, the regard for life. To be so loved changes an individual, and it changed Rack, brought out in him a humbleness, a desire to please. Beautiful Wings, though seriously weakened, received the compensation of knowing the total love of a Healer. It washed through her, easing the pain and making the warning signals being sent to her brain from every part of her body things of little consequence. She would live to give birth. The joining began. Linked, flesh within flesh, Rack became even more a part of her and she a part of him and the long, lovely process extended into time without end, time without thought of the future, except for the deep awareness of creation. And, yet in Rack's mind, in that joined mind, there was also the despair, the pain, the sadness. Joinings were routinely monitored by Far Seers and though the nearest Far Seer was not near enough to be able to break into the concentration of the two lovers, he was awed by the force, the closeness, and the duration of this joining. A Healer knows the flesh of a Power Giver once, perhaps, in lucky cases, twice in a lifetime. Rack, the fortunate one, knew more. He knew flesh and total love and this made his despair deeper, for even in total union he was aware of her condition, and knew that he and he alone was responsible for it. Neither of them would think that the very uniqueness and desperation of their union were adding to the depth of their emotions, but that obvious conclusion was made by the observing Far Seer before he withdrew, tinglingly envious, to seek his sterile consolation with his Keeper. Rack knew only that he would forsake all if his actions resulted in the death of Beautiful Wings. She was very weak. When the seed planting began and joy convulsed them, she was overwhelmed by the strength of her joy. Rack's mind filled with panic, even as his entire being lived the glory of nature's finest moment. As her mind withdrew, going blank, he roared a hoarse animal sound, an expression of his outrage that she should pass into unawareness at such a moment. He sent his body out to her, tried to possess her, to will her to be strong as he was strong. His mind weeping, his healing cells screamed out to her to fight, not to give in to the specter that had thrust itself into their moment of joy. Love was the force. His message was not a mere hope or a plea, it was a command: Be well. And it was repeated by every fiber of his being; his body thundered the order, and he wished desperately to be able to send into her body the gift of his healing. Yet still she sank. He felt the darkness of her mind, a foreboding of the darkness of death which he, who loved her, had inflicted upon her. The burden was to great for him to bea