*** "You see the young-looking one?" Adam asked. "The kid with the strawberry-blond curls?" "Yes." Andrew managed a weak grin. So Adam was going to play with him, stretch this out. //That's okay. I've waited all these years to learn the truth. Let him tell me any way he wants.// "His name was Richie Ryan," Adam said fondly. "He became Immortal at nineteen, and he always had a wonderful ability to make himself look that age or much older. Here you see him with a plump face, and those curls. Nineteen, right? But when he wanted to, he could lose some weight, cut the hair short, darken it. And you'd swear he was thirty. "When he really was in his teens, he raced motorcycles. So you can guess about when he was born. Later, he raced starships. Dead four hundred years, and he still holds every speed record there is! Under several different names, but they were all Richie." Interested in spite of himself, Andrew asked, "Do you know how he died?" He wondered whether Immortals had avenged their friends. He believed in friendship. But he felt a little queasy when he tried to picture Adam--or the third man in the vid--killing the one who'd taken Richiešs head. "Yes. And I think it was what he would have wanted," Adam said soberly. "He went off to fight in a war-- colonists on Cydonia were rebelling against a tyrannical government. It was a fight for freedom, appealed to a lot of young and not so young idealists. Richie was one of many who died--a laser gun sliced his head off. But the good guys won." "So he was killed by a mortal? His was one of the Quickenings that were lost?" "Yes," Adam acknowledged. "That was unfortunate. But he'd often said he'd rather die for a cause than be beaten in some meaningless swordfight." Andrew nodded. "I think I'd feel that way, too. Did you and your other friend fight in that war?" Adamšs lip curled in a mirthless smile. "No. I've never been known as an idealist. I was a gun runner, smuggling arms to the rebels. "Funny thing is, I probably did more than Richie to influence the outcome. But I did it without risking my neck, and made a tidy profit to boot. "I *didn't* feel particularly good about myself." Andrew nodded thoughtfully. "And...?" "Duncan MacLeod? He'd sworn off war before Richie was even born. But he was *there*, as a medic. Placed himself in just as much danger as the combatants. He wasn't close enough to receive Richie's Quickening--that would have been too much of a coincidence. But he did find and bury him."