Jonal recognized the change in his heart rate. Panic was not a familiar sensation, but acknowledged, if still unacceptable. Terror contorted time, collapsing tines into seconds or contorting seconds into risings. The doors opened into the corridor. He sprinted the last few yards from the transport to quarters. The computer opened the private entrance. He flew past the living and slumber chambers without a glance and flung himself into Anya’s dressing room. He found Tonas on the floor with their Anya sobbing in his arms. ::Is she all right? Goddess, I couldn’t read her. Tonas, do we need Mark?::
::She’s fine, physically. Take a breath, Firefly.::
::I was in engineering. I never felt such desolation and anguish, I pictured…::
He dropped to the carpet and gathered them both into his strong
