Transcription: After Mass By Lois McMaster Bajal The shattered ship hung in space, a black bulk in the darkness. It still turned, imperceptibly slowly, one edge eclipsed and swallowed the bright point of the star. The lights of the salvage crew arced over the skeleton. Ants, ripping up a dead moth, Sarel thought. Scavengers. He sighed dismay into his forward observation screen and pictured the ship as it had been, weeks before. The wreckage untwisted in his mind. A cruiser, alive with patterns of gaudy lights that always made him think of a party seen across night waters, responsive as a mirror to the mind, ...
