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subspace sensors.
    Fairchild’s ship was over four light-hours away. More disturbing, it was heading toward a nebulosity which charts said contained three collapsars, two of them black holes. Kamon deftly probed the nebula with his protogeometry sensors.
    None of these singularities had ever been used for pilgrimages, thus they did not radiate Thrina songs. The area had not been thoroughly charted except on visual and radio levels from thousands of light-years away, where the patterns of the roiling gas-clouds had given away the pres­ence of hidden collapsars.
    His scan revealed another member in the family, elusive and sacred: a naked singu­larity. The very presence of humans in such a region was sacrilege—and if they were choosing suicide over destruc­tion at his hands, the danger was unthinkable. A shudder racked his entire body. He had heard of hu­mans going insane under stress, but if they fell into a sin­gularity here, the Venging was a failure and the Rift would never be sacred again.
    He forced himself to be calm. They wouldn’t know how to prepare themselves for the Fall. They knew nothing about the mental ritual involved. It would be, in effect, nothing more than a suicide.
    Or it might be something much worse, for them.
    But Kamon would take no chances. He must destroy them before they ever reached the cloud. For the first time he felt anxiety that he might fail, even fear.
    â€œIt can’t be done!” Lady Fairchild shouted. “Disjohn, I’m not ignorant! I know what those things are. Graetikin has to be insane to think we can survive that!”
    â€œI’ve heard him explain it. The computers back him up.”
    â€œYes, on his assumptions!”
    â€œHe’s on to something new. He knows what he’s talking about—and he’s right. We don’t have any other choice. The Aighor has every advantage over us, including reli­gious zeal—as you pointed out. We’ve tested our course on the computers again and again. We have one chance in a thousand of coming out alive. With Graetikin’s plan, our chances are at least a hundred times greater.”
    â€œWe’re going to die, is what you’re saying, either way.”
    â€œProbably. But there’s something grand about this way of going. It robs Kamon of his goal. We hold the upper hand now.”
    â€œYou know what will happen if we suicide in one of the singularities?” Edith asked.
    â€œWe don’t plan on suiciding.”
    â€œJust going down one, we make this entire region useless to them for their pilgrimages. Mixing souls is an abomination to them, just as mixing meat and milk is to an orthodox Jew.”
    â€œThere was a hygienic reason not to mix meat and milk.”
    Such bloody-minded rationalism. “Are we so materialistic that we can’t see a reason for this kind of tabu?”
    Fairchild swung out his hands and turned away from her, talking loudly to the wall. “Damn it, Edith, we have to use Occam’s razor! We can’t multiply our hypotheses until we avoid stepping on cracks for fear of killing our mothers. We’re rational beings! Kamon has that advantage over us—he is not acting rationally. He’s on a Venging, like a goddamned berserker, and he’s got a faster, better armed ship. We’re doomed! What should we do, bare our breast to him and shout ‘mea culpa?’”
    Edith shook her head. “I don’t know. I just feel so lost.”
    Fairchild shivered. His teeth clicked together and he wrapped his arms around himself. “You’re not alone. I’m petrified. We’re about to do something no one else has ever done.”
    â€œExcept Aighors,” Edith reminded him. “And they’ve al­ways been prepared for it.”
    â€œHe won’t let us dock with him, he’s turning toward the singularities—there’s nothing more I can do,” Anna said. “He’s