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the floor of the lower level by bending her knees. The man looked a little surprised, faintly amused even, at her sudden descent and unwillingness to expose herself to any threat he might pose.
    “Pick up one of those canisters.” Jed pointed to the nearest crate.
    Wolff turned his back on her to pick up the sealed cylinder, and Jed saw opportunity left open like a gate before her. She seized her gun with her right hand and darted her left hand toward the weapon on his belt. Wolff moved with a reflex that seemed almost of the calibre of her own kind, twisting in an instant to snatch his own weapon, and as he did he grabbed Jed by the wrist. Her feet slid on the floor. She flung out her shooting hand to maintain her balance. Light blazed from her neutron pistol, the shot hitting the Shamrock’s bulkhead wall with a thunk . Immediately she decreased the GravSim intensity to mitigate her impact with the floor. She fell on her hip, Wolff still gripping her wrist and their weapons aimed respectively as gravity resumed normal service.
    The man appeared startled by the sudden fluctuation, and stared at Jed, breathing quickly. “Are you hurt?” he asked politely.
    Jed frowned. “Fool.”
    “ I am a fool?” Wolff waggled the end of the neutron pistol he held. “I shall ask you not to try that again, Archer.”
    Jed saw his IR-UV bifocals had reflective sidepieces that gave him effective all-round vision with a mere glance toward the wide-angle silvered surfaces. He had watched her. His response was not reflex but calculated defense. She stifled a vocal expletive directed at herself. Stupid! Unobservant!
    “Now how about you get up?” Wolff pulled at her wrist. His sweaty grip revolted her. “And we try again, remembering that your duelling advantage over me is negligible.”
    Jed got up and pulled back from him. “Take your hand off my arm!”
    Wolff relinquished his grip then pushed her hand away. Both cautiously lowered their weapons, watching the actions of the other.
    “The canister,” said Jed at length.
    Wolff picked up the canister.
    “Now two of those packets, and fill that flask from that phytoculture tank.” She pointed to the tank, a squat barrel in one corner with a few pipes running from the wall conduits to it. A spyglass in the front looked in to its illuminated contents—a sea of translucent green organisms suspended in water.
    Wolff filled the flask from the tap and bent down on one knee with Jed watching his broad back. He sealed the container and put the four objects in his inside jacket pocket.
    “Now back up.” Jed looked back up at the shaft they’d climbed down. “Me first, and you to follow.”
    Not taking her eyes off him, she mounted the rungs. Working on balance, she climbed back up, watching him until the last minute before swinging herself back up to the Shamrock’s upper level. “Proceed!” she called back to him, placing her hand on the handle of her weapon.
    The metallic ring of hands and feet on rungs drifted up from the lower level, and then Wolff’s head came up through the gap. “Easy, tiger.”
    He led the way back up to the bridge once more, and placed the food down on the table while Jed slotted the canister into the console heating unit. Within a few minutes the contents were ready.
    Jed poured out half the levigated esculents and balanced her bowl on her knee, shoulders hunched over the thick soupy solution coloured like dried blood. It had the bland smell of a thousand different types of sustenance.
    Wolff ripped open a hermetically sealed polymer bag and tipped out the roll of fibre loaf it contained. He tore into it with his teeth and fingers, dipping the bread into his bowl. Jed sipped the steaming, nourishing liquid from a spoon.
    “Am I putting you off?”
    Jed glared at him over the rim of her spoon. Secretly she envied his ravenous glut—biting, chewing and swallowing with stoic rhythm. It had been a very long time since she’d had the appetite to eat like