The Dark Lady

packed away somewhere. We'll dig it out when you're ready to leave.”
    “Maybe I should go to my ship right now and get my own suit,” said Venzia.
    Kobrynski shrugged. “It's up to you. Can you find it in the dark? Solitaire doesn't have any moons.”
    Venzia looked momentarily surprised. “I'm not sure,” he admitted. “I think I'll stay here after all, and accept the loan of your suit when it's time to leave.”
    “Fine.”
    Heath and I had finished donning our shielded outfits when I noticed that Kobrynski had not yet donned his gloves, and I mentioned the oversight to him.
    “The gloves are awkward to manipulate,” he replied, “and sometimes I've got to make some last-second adjustments manually.”
    He turned back to the computers and began issuing still more orders, all of them expressed as mathematical formulae and totally incomprehensible to me.
    “Soon now,” he said, not looking up from his equipment.
    The three of us moved closer to a window and watched the still night sky.
    “One more adjustment,” he murmured, reciting one last equation. “Now, on my mark— go!”
    I peered intently through the window. At first nothing seemed to be happening. Then, slowly, gradually, the air seemed to become perceptibly thicker, and I could see swirling patterns starting to form, molecular motion made visible.
    A bolt of lightning flashed, but unlike every other lightning bolt I had ever seen, this one did not dissipate, but remained in the sky, twisting itself into a curved line of flame. Another flash of lightning, and another line was added to the painting. A swirl of electrical energy for texture, glowing ionized molecules for color, more streaks of lightning, and suddenly the Dark Lady began taking shape before my astounded eyes.
    In another moment her face covered the heavens, her sad eyes glowed with the light of distant nebulas, her teeth were white with starlight, her hair was a billowing mass of dark clouds, dotted here and there with pinpoints of stardust. Then the explosions started, highlighting her with an unimaginable release of energy.
    “It is fabulous!” I exclaimed.
    “I've never seen anything like it!” added Heath in awed tones.
    “The mouth is still wrong,” said Kobrynski. He turned back to his machines. “If I can just capture her lips in the instant before she speaks... ”
    He began making manual adjustments.
    “How long does it last?” asked Venzia.
    “It should start losing its integrity in about ten more seconds,” said Kobrynski, pushing keys and plotting vectors. “Damn! It's still not right, and I'm going to lose it! I can't make the adjustments fast enough!”
    “It's not breaking up at all,” noted Heath.
    “It will.”
    We all watched the image intently.
    “If anything, I'd say it's getting brighter,” observed Heath.
    Kobrynski walked back to the window and stared at his creation, frowning in confusion.
    “I don't understand it,” he said. “She should be fading out of existence.”
    “But she's not,” said Heath.
    “Then maybe I've got a chance to fix those lips!” said Kobrynski excitedly. He quickly returned to the machines, pressing still more keys.
    “That's it!” he cried triumphantly, joining us at the window once more.
    And indeed it was now a perfect representation of the Dark Lady, rendered in glowing detail across a cosmic tapestry. She seemed so real that I found myself listening for the words that seemed about to issue from her mouth.
    And then, so naturally that it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening, her lips began to move.
    "Vladimir," she whispered across the sky as mountains shook. "Come to me."
    “Did you hear that?” demanded Kobrynski, his eyes wild with excitement.
    "Come, Vladimir," she crooned as the cabin trembled and the machines whined in protest.
    “Then it was a dream, after all,” I mumbled, stunned by the realization that she was calling only for Kobrynski.
    Kobrynski walked to the door as if hypnotized, and Venzia grabbed his arm.
    “No!” he yelled. “Not until I ask my question!”
    Kobrynski merely shrugged his arm, and sent Venzia flying across the room.
    “Where do you think you're going?” demanded Heath.
    “To her, ” said Kobrynski tranquilly.
    “Open that door and Venzia will die— and so will you, if you don't put some gloves on.”
    “She won't harm me,” replied Kobrynski.
    “She's not even there!” snapped Heath. “You're walking into a radioactive