Instantly images formed in her mind, sharp and clear, picking up precisely where they had left off on the shuttle. Again she sat in a one-man fighter, bucking turbulence as she dove into a planet's atmosphere. Behind her, a fighter of alien construction pursued.

With those images came other elements: she smelled the acrid scent of scorched air in her cockpit, heard the metal of her ship creak and moan, felt a trickle of sweat crawl itching down her back within her life-support suit. She could actually taste her own fear.

And finally, another's thoughts blossomed in her mind. Suddenly, she was the protagonist of the story, living manufactured experiences, feeling artificial emotions, thinking synthetic thoughts.

This was a piece of fiction that should have grabbed her totally, holding her interest to the very end. It was a LIN/C adaptation of the twelfth book in a series written by a long-dead twentieth century author, a series that was quickly becoming her all-time favorite. There was plenty of action and adventure, and the main character was certainly someone with whom she could identify: a female captain in a Federation Fleet not unlike the one in which Susan herself served. The only difference was that intelligent races other than humankind were members of the fictitious Federation, while in reality humanity had not yet encountered another intelligence.

But today the fiction could not hold her attention. There was simply too much on her mind. Within a few seconds her concentration slipped, and the images, sensory impressions, and emotions ceased.

She removed the chip from her LIN/C and put it back in its case. After slipping the card back into its pouch, she returned the case to the desk drawer, then stood and stepped to the phone's lens cluster. She began pacing nervously, just beyond the activating field.