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 SECOND EDITION

Davis | Blankenbaker
ii
 SECOND EDITION

Kirkland W. Davis, MD, FACR

Professor of Radiology
Musculoskeletal Imaging and Intervention
Department of Radiology
University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health
Madison, Wisconsin

Donna G. Blankenbaker, MD
Professor of Radiology
Musculoskeletal Imaging and Intervention
Department of Radiology
University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health
Madison, Wisconsin

iii
 1600 John F. Kennedy Blvd.
Ste 1800
Philadelphia, PA 19103-2899

EXPERTDDX: MUSCULOSKELETAL, SECOND EDITION ISBN: 978-0-323-52483-4

Copyright © 2018 by Elsevier. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Details
on how to seek permission, further information about the Publisher’s permissions policies and our arrangements with organizations
such as the Copyright Clearance Center and the Copyright Licensing Agency, can be found at our website: www.elsevier.com/
permissions.

This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copyright by the Publisher (other than as may be
noted herein).

Notices

Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and
experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices,
or medical treatment may become necessary.

Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in
evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described
herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful of their own safety
and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility.

With respect to any drug or pharmaceutical products identified, readers are advised to check
the most current information provided (i) on procedures featured or (ii) by the manufacturer
of each product to be administered, to verify the recommended dose or formula, the
method and duration of administration, and contraindications. It is the responsibility of
practitioners, relying on their own experience and knowledge of their patients, to make
diagnoses, to determine dosages and the best treatment for each individual patient, and to
take all appropriate safety precautions.

To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or
editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter
of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods,
products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.

Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Davis, Kirkland W. | Blankenbaker, Donna G.

Title: ExpertDDx. Musculoskeletal / [edited by] Kirkland W. Davis and Donna G. Blankenbaker.
Other titles: Musculoskeletal.
Description: Second edition. | Salt Lake City, UT : Elsevier, Inc., [2017] | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: ISBN 978-0-323-52483-4
Subjects: LCSH: Musculoskeletal system--Diseases--Diagnosis--Handbooks, manuals, etc. |
Diagnosis, Differential--Handbooks, manuals, etc. | MESH: Musculoskeletal Diseases--
diagnosis--Atlases. | Musculoskeletal System--Atlases.
Classification: LCC RC925.7.E96 2017 | NLM WE 17 | DDC 612.7022’2--dc23
International Standard Book Number: 978-0-323-52483-4

Cover Designer: Tom M. Olson, BA

Printed in Canada by Friesens, Altona, Manitoba, Canada

Last digit is the print number: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

iv
 Dedications
I owe a debt to all the colleagues, fellows, and residents with whom I have worked
along the way and who have helped grow my knowledge and love for musculoskeletal
radiology. I especially offer thanks to my mentors: Drs. Felix S. Chew and Carol A.
Boles from residency, Charles S. Resnik and Michael E. Mulligan from fellowship, and
Arthur A. De Smet from my early career. In addition, Donna Blankenbaker has been
a fantastic partner on this project and remains a great teammate, as she has been
throughout my career. Finally, I couldn’t do any of this without the love and support of
my wonderful children and especially my lovely wife, Jenni. Thank you.

KWD

To CMS for all of your support. I want to thank all of the authors for their
dedication to this project as well as my co-editor Kirkland Davis for his unwavering
work on this project.

DGB

v
vi
Contributing Authors
Carol L. Andrews, MD
Associate Professor
University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine
Chief, Division of Musculoskeletal Radiology
UPMC Department of Radiology
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Robert Downey Boutin, MD

Chief, Musculoskeletal Radiology
Clinical Professor of Radiology
University of California, Davis School of Medicine
Sacramento, California

Julia R. Crim, MD
Chief of Musculoskeletal Radiology
Vice Chair for Clinical Affairs
Professor of Radiology
University of Missouri at Columbia
Columbia, Missouri

Michael Mulligan, MD
Professor
Department of Radiology and Nuclear Medicine
University of Maryland School of Medicine
Chief, Radiology Kernan Hospital/UMROI
Assistant Chief of Musculoskeletal Imaging UMMC
MSK Fellowship Program Director
Baltimore, Maryland

Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA

Clinical Professor of Radiology
Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine
Case Western Reserve University
Chair, Department of Radiology
Hillcrest Hospital
Cleveland, Ohio

Additional Contributors
B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
Catherine C. Roberts, MD

vii
viii
 Preface
There is no doubt that interpreting radiology studies presents many challenges. One of those challenges
is the disparate array of diagnoses that may be responsible for a particular imaging finding, clinical sign, or
symptom. Musculoskeletal radiology is no exception to this rule; in fact, many of the differential diagnoses
that occur in musculoskeletal radiology are among the most lengthy and complex in the industry.

Radiologists and other practitioners who employ radiology in the care of their patients may develop their
own short lists of possible diagnoses for various radiologic findings and clinical presentations; however,
unique cases will always arise that fall outside a practitioner’s experience and knowledge base irrespective
of one’s level of expertise. When appropriate, one should still endeavor to generate a reasonable differential
diagnosis for the problem at hand. It is our ambition that this text/atlas will serve as the most helpful resource
for that purpose.

One of the difficulties associated with constructing a reference for differential diagnoses in radiology lies
with the question of scope: If one purely lists a series of differential diagnoses for a specific finding or
scenario, the reference will not provide enough information for the practitioner to narrow the differential
sufficiently. Alternatively, providing complete information about diagnosing every entity in every differential
list would make the reference far too voluminous to be practical. As with all the texts in the ExpertDDx series,
this second edition of ExpertDDx: Musculoskeletal seeks to strike an appropriate balance. The differential
diagnosis lists are complete though not always exhaustive. Within each list, the diagnoses are separated
into common, uncommon, and rare but important presentations. Each chapter provides additional details
about the individual diagnoses that may help the reader to recognize a specific entity or narrow the list of
possibilities by including some and excluding others, and sometimes suggest other imaging studies or body
parts to examine to further assess the possible diagnosis. Imaging examples are provided for most of the
diagnoses in every list. If the reader desires a more in-depth discussion of a diagnosis, the electronic version of
this text has links embedded to additional resources that allow for a more complete discussion of individual
entities.

Several new chapters have been added to the text since the first edition, and thousands of new cases have
been added to supplement the best of the cases from the first edition. We strove to achieve a fresh look at all
the material. To that end, although we have been fortunate to retain two of the authors from the first edition,
Carol L. Andrews, MD and Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, they took on completely different sections of the work. In
addition, Michael E. Mulligan, MD, Robert Downey Boutin, MD, and Julia R. Crim, MD lent their considerable
expertise in musculoskeletal radiology to the work. We are grateful to all of the authors for contributing their
extensive knowledge and all of the time and effort they spent on the project.

When an oncologist, rheumatologist, or endocrinologist poses a question to us about a difficult case, we often
find our greatest satisfaction in guiding them to the correct diagnosis for their patients. It is our great hope
that this text will be a uniquely helpful resource for many and assist the reader in improving patients’ lives.

Kirkland W. Davis, MD, FACR

Professor of Radiology
Musculoskeletal Imaging and Intervention
Department of Radiology
University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health
Madison, Wisconsin

Donna G. Blankenbaker, MD
Professor of Radiology
Musculoskeletal Imaging and Intervention
Department of Radiology
University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health
Madison, Wisconsin
ix
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x
Acknowledgments
Lead Editor
Nina I. Bennett, BA

Text Editors
Arthur G. Gelsinger, MA
Terry W. Ferrell, MS
Lisa A. Gervais, BS
Karen E. Concannon, MA, PhD
Matt W. Hoecherl, BS
Megg Morin, BA

Image Editors
Jeffrey J. Marmorstone, BS
Lisa A. M. Steadman, BS

Illustrations
Richard Coombs, MS
Lane R. Bennion, MS
Laura C. Wissler, MA

Art Direction and Design

Tom M. Olson, BA
Laura C. Wissler, MA

Production Coordinators
Rebecca L. Bluth, BA
Angela M. G. Terry, BA
Emily C. Fassett, BA

xi
 Sections
PART I: Anatomy Based
SECTION 1: Flat Bones
SECTION 2: Long Bone, Epiphyseal
SECTION 3: Long Bone, Metaphyseal
SECTION 4: Long Bone, Metadiaphyseal and Diaphyseal
SECTION 5: Long Bone, Growth Plate
SECTION 6: Periosteum
SECTION 7: Joint Based
SECTION 8: Shoulder Girdle and Arm
SECTION 9: Elbow and Forearm
SECTION 10: Wrist and Hand
SECTION 11: Fingers and Toes
SECTION 12: Intervertebral Disc
SECTION 13: Paraspinal Abnormalities
SECTION 14: Vertebral Shape
SECTION 15: Vertebral Lesions
SECTION 16: Ribs
SECTION 17: Pelvis
SECTION 18: Hip and Thigh
SECTION 19: Knee and Leg
SECTION 20: Foot and Ankle

xii
 PART II: Image Based
SECTION 1: Radiograph/CT, Osseous
SECTION 2: Radiograph/CT, Soft Tissue
SECTION 3: MR, Osseous
SECTION 4: MR, Soft Tissue
SECTION 5: MR, Joint
SECTION 6: Ultrasound
SECTION 7: Nuclear Medicine

PART III: Clinically Based

SECTION 1: Shoulder and Arm
SECTION 2: Elbow and Forearm
SECTION 3: Wrist and Hand
SECTION 4: Pelvis, Hip, and Thigh
SECTION 5: Knee and Leg
SECTION 6: Ankle and Foot
SECTION 7: Spine
SECTION 8: Systemic Disease

xiii
 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Part I: Anatomy Based SECTION 4: LONG BONE,

METADIAPHYSEAL AND DIAPHYSEAL
SECTION 1: FLAT BONES 76 Long Bone: Central Diaphyseal Lesion,
4 Flat Bones: Bubbly Lesion With Expansile Nonaggressive
Remodeling Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR 80 Long Bone: Diaphyseal Lesion, Aggressive: Adult
10 Flat Bones: Permeative Lesion Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR 86 Long Bone: Diaphyseal Lesion, Aggressive: Child
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
SECTION 2: LONG BONE, EPIPHYSEAL 90 Long Bone: Aggressive Diaphyseal Lesion With
Endosteal Thickening
18 Long Bone: Irregular or Stippled Epiphyses
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
92 Long Bone: Cortically Based Diaphyseal Lesion,
22 Long Bone: Epiphyseal Overgrowth/Ballooning
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR Sclerotic
24 Long Bone: Sclerotic/Ivory Epiphysis Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR 96 Long Bone: Cortically Based Diaphyseal Lesion, Lytic
28 Long Bone: Epiphyseal/Apophyseal/Subchondral Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
102 Tibial Metadiaphyseal Cortically Based Lesion
Lytic Lesion
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
104 Long Bone: Diffuse Cortical/Endosteal Thickening
SECTION 3: LONG BONE, METAPHYSEAL Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA and Catherine C. Roberts,
MD
34 Long Bone: Metaphyseal Bands & Lines 108 Long Bone: Undertubulation
Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA and Carol L. Andrews, MD Carol L. Andrews, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
38 Long Bone: Metaphyseal Cupping 114 Long Bone: Overtubulation
Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA and Michael Mulligan, MD Carol L. Andrews, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
40 Long Bone: Metaphyseal Fraying
Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA and Michael Mulligan, MD SECTION 5: LONG BONE, GROWTH PLATE
42 Long Bone: Central Metaphyseal Lesion,
120 Growth Plate: Premature Physeal Closure
Nonaggressive
Carol L. Andrews, MD
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
122 Growth Plate: Widened Physis
48 Long Bone: Central Metaphyseal Lesion, Aggressive
Robert Downey Boutin, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD,
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR
52 Long Bone: Metaphyseal Lesion, Bubbly FACR
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR SECTION 6: PERIOSTEUM
56 Long Bone: Eccentric Metaphyseal Lesion,
Nonaggressive 128 Periosteum: Aggressive Periosteal Reaction
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA and Catherine C. Roberts,
60 Long Bone: Eccentric Metaphyseal Lesion, MD
Aggressive 132 Periosteum: Solid Periosteal Reaction
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR Cheryl A. Petersilge, MD, MBA and Catherine C. Roberts,
64 Long Bone: Cortically Based Metaphyseal Lesion MD
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR 138 Periosteum: Bizarre Horizontal Periosteal Reaction
68 Long Bone: Surface (Juxtacortical) Lesion Robert Downey Boutin, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD,
Michael Mulligan, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD, FACR FACR
142 Periosteum: Periosteal Reaction Multiple
Bones/Acropachy, Adult
Robert Downey Boutin, MD and B.J. Manaster, MD, PhD,
FACR

xiv
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Crystal Circe
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Crystal Circe

Author: Henry Kuttner

Illustrator: John B. Musacchia

Release date: August 11, 2022 [eBook #68726]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Fictioneers, Inc, 1942

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE

CRYSTAL CIRCE ***
THE CRYSTAL CIRCE
 By Henry Kuttner

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from

Astonishing Stories, June 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
 Prologue
The stratoship from Cairo was late, and I was wondering whether the
newsreel theatre or a couple of drinks would make time pass faster. It
was early dusk. Through the immense, curved wall-window of the
Manhattan Port Room I could see the landing field, with a silvery ship
being rolled over the tarmac, and the skyscrapers of New York
beyond.
Then I saw Arnsen.
It was Steve Arnsen, of course. No doubt about that. No other man
had his great breadth of shoulders, his Herculean build. Ten years
ago we had been classmates at Midwestern. I remembered rakehell,
laughing, handsome Steve Arnsen very well, with his penchant for
getting into trouble and out of it again, usually dragging Douglas
O'Brien, his room-mate, along with him like the helpless tail of a kite.
Poor Doug! He was the antithesis of Arnsen, a thoughtful, studious
boy with the shadow of a dream lurking always in his dark eyes. An
idealist was Douglas O'Brien, as his Celtic ancestors had been.
Strong friendship had existed between the two men—the mental
communion of laughter and a dream.
Arnsen was looking up into the darkening sky, a queer tensity in his
posture. He turned abruptly, came to a table near me, and sat down.
From his pocket he took a small box. It snapped open. His gaze
probed into the unknown thing that was hidden by his cupped hands.
I picked up my drink and went to Arnsen's table. All I could see was
the back of his sleek, massive head. Then he looked up—
If ever I saw hell in a man's face, I saw it in Arnsen's then. There was
a dreadful longing, and an equally horrible hopelessness, the
expression one might see on the face of a damned soul looking up
from the pit at the shining gates forever beyond his reach.
And Arnsen's face had been—ravaged.
The searing mark of some experience lay there, branded into his
furrowed cheeks, his tightened lips, into his eyes where a sickness
dwelt. No—this was not Steve Arnsen, the boy I had known at
Midwestern. Youth had left him, and hope as well.
"Vail!" he said, smiling crookedly. "Good Lord, of all people! Sit down
and have a drink. What are you doing here?"
I sought for words as I dropped into a chair. Arnsen watched me for a
moment, and then shrugged. "You might as well say it. I've changed.
Yeah—I know that."
"What happened?" There was no need to fence.
His gaze went beyond me, to the dark sky above the landing field.
"What happened? Why don't you ask where Doug is? We always
stuck together, didn't we? Surprising to see me alone—"

He lit a cigarette and crushed it out with an impatient gesture. "You

know, Vail, I've been hoping I'd run into you. This thing that's been
boiling inside of me—I haven't been able to tell a soul. No one would
have believed me. You may. The three of us kicked around together a
lot, in the old days."
"In trouble?" I asked. "Can I help?"
"You can listen," he said. "I came back to Earth thinking I might be
able to forget. It hasn't worked. I'm waiting for the airliner to take me
to Kansas Spaceport. I'm going to Callisto—Mars—somewhere. Earth
isn't the right place any more. But I'm glad we ran into each other,
Vail. I want to talk. I want you to answer a question that's been driving
me almost insane."
I signalled the waiter and got more drinks. Arnsen was silent till we
were alone once more. Then he opened his cupped hands and
showed me a small shagreen box. It clicked open. Nestling in blue
velvet was a crystal, not large, but lovelier than any gem I had ever
seen before.
Light drifted from it like the flow of slow water. The dim shining pulsed
and waned. In the heart of the jewel was—
I tore my eyes away, staring at Arnsen. "What is it? Where did you
get the thing? Not on Earth!"
He was watching the jewel, sick hopelessness on his face. "No—not
on Earth. It came from a little asteroid out there—somewhere." He
waved vaguely toward the sky. "It isn't charted. I took no reckonings.
So I can never go back. Not that I want to, now. Poor Doug!"
"He's dead, isn't he?" I asked.
Arnsen looked at me strangely as he closed the box and slipped it
back into his pocket. "Dead? I wonder. Wait till you know the story,
Vail. About Doug's lucky charm, and the dreams, and the Crystal
Circe...."
The slow horror of remembrance crept across his face. Out there, in
space, something had happened. I thought: It must have been
frightful to leave such traces on Arnsen.
He read my thought. "Frightful? Perhaps. It was quite lovely, too. You
remember the old days, when I thought of nothing but raising hell...."
After a long pause, I said, "Who was—the Crystal Circe?"
"I never knew her name. She told me, but my brain couldn't
understand it. She wasn't human, of course. I called her Circe, after
the enchantress who changed her lovers to swine." Again he looked
at the darkening sky. "Well—it began more than two years ago, in
Maine. Doug and I were on a fishing trip when we ran into the
meteorite. Little fishing we got done then! You know how Doug was—
like a kid reading a fairy tale for the first time. And that meteorite—"

CHAPTER ONE
The Star-Gem
It lay in the crater it had dug for itself, a rounded arc visible about the
brown earth. Already sumac and vines were mending the broken soil.
Warm fall sunlight slanted down through the trees as Douglas O'Brien
and Steve Arnsen plodded toward the distant gurgling of the stream,
thoughts intent on catching the limit. No fingering tendril of menace
thrust out to warn them.
"Mind your step," Arnsen said, seeing the pit. He detoured around it
and turned, realizing that O'Brien had not followed. "Come on, Doug.
It's getting late."
O'Brien's tanned young face was intent as he peered down into the
hollow. "Wait a bit," he said absently. "This looks—say! I'll bet there's
a meteor down there!"
"So there's a meteor. We're not fishing for meteors, professor. They're
mostly iron, anyway. Gold, now, would be a different matter."
O'Brien dropped lightly into the hole, scraping at the dirt with his
fingers. "Wonder how long it's been here? You run along, Steve. I'll
catch up with you."
Arnsen sighed. O'Brien, with his vast enthusiasm for everything under
the sun, was off again. There would be no stopping him now till he
had satisfied his curiosity about the meteorite. Well, Arnsen had a
new fly he was anxious to use, and it would soon be too late for good
fishing. With a grunt he turned and pushed on toward the stream.
The fly proved excellent. In a surprisingly short time Arnsen had
bagged the limit. There was no sign of O'Brien, and hunger made
itself evident. Arnsen retraced his steps.
The younger man was sitting cross-legged beside the crater, holding
something in his cupped hands and staring down at it. A swift glance
showed Arnsen that the meteorite had been uncovered, and,
apparently, cracked in two, each piece the size of a football. He
stepped closer, to see what O'Brien held.
It was a gray crystal, egg-sized, filled with cloudy, frozen mists. It had
been cut into a diamond-shaped, multifaced gem.
"Where'd you get that?" Arnsen asked.
O'Brien jumped, turning up a startled face. "Oh—hello, Steve. It was
in the meteorite. Damnedest thing I ever saw. I saw the meteorite had
a line of fission all around it, so I smacked the thing with a rock. It fell
apart, and this was in the middle. Impossible, isn't it?"
"Let's see." Arnsen reached for the jewel. O'Brien showed an odd
reluctance in giving it up, but finally dropped it into the other's
outstretched hand.
The gem was cold, and yet not unpleasantly so. A tingling raced up
Arnsen's arm to his shoulder. He felt an abrupt, tiny shock.
O'Brien snatched the jewel. Arnsen stared at him.
"I'm not going to eat it. What—"
The boy grinned. "It's my luck piece, Steve. My lucky charm. I'm
going to have it pierced."
"Better take it to a jeweler first," Arnsen suggested. "It may be
valuable."
"No—I'll keep it." He slipped the gem into his pocket. "Any luck?"
"The limit, and I'm starving. Let's get back to camp."

Over their meal of fried trout, O'Brien fingered the find, staring into the
cloudy depths of the gem as though he expected to find something
there. Arnsen could sense a strange air of withdrawal about him. That
night O'Brien fell asleep holding the jewel in his hand.
His sleep was troubled. O'Brien watched the boy, the vaguest hint of
worry in his blue eyes. Once Doug lifted his hand and let it fall
reluctantly. And once a flash of light seemed to lance out from the
gem, brief and vivid as lightning. Imagination, perhaps....
The moon sank. O'Brien stirred and sat up. Arnsen felt the other's
eyes upon him. He said softly, "Doug?"
"Yes. I wondered if you were awake."
"Anything wrong?"
"There's a girl...." O'Brien said, and fell silent. After what seemed a
long time, he went on: "Remember you said once that I'd never find a
girl perfect enough to love?"
"I remember."
"You were wrong. She's like Deirdre of the Tuatha Dé, like Freya, like
Ran of the northern seas. She has red hair, red as dying suns are
red, and she's a goddess like Deirdre, too. The Song of Solomon was
made for her. 'Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.... I
sleep, but my heart waketh; it is the voice of my beloved that
knocketh.' Steve," he said, and his voice broke sharply. "It wasn't a
dream. I know it wasn't. She exists, somewhere." He stirred; Arnsen
guessed that he was peering at the gray jewel.
There was nothing to say. The frosty brilliance of the stars gleamed
through the laced branches above. A curious breath of the unearthly
seemed to drop down from the vast abyss of the sky, chilling Arnsen's
heart.
In that moment he knew that his friend was ensorcelled.
Superstition—foolishness! He shook the thought away. But all the
blood of his Northern ancestors rose up in him, the Vikings who had
believed in Queen Ran of Ocean, in trolls and warlocks and the
water-maidens who guard sunken gold.
"You're dreaming," he said stubbornly, more loudly than he thought.
"It's time we got back to the city. We've been here long enough."
To his surprise, O'Brien agreed. "I think so. I've an idea I want to work
on." And the boy shut up like a clam, relaxing almost instantly into
peaceful slumber.
But Arnsen did not sleep for a long time. The stars seemed too close
and, somehow, menacing. From the black void, eyes watched—not
human eyes, for all their loveliness. They were pools of darkest night,
and stars glimmered within them.
He wished that O'Brien had not found the meteorite.

CHAPTER TWO
Lure of the Crystal
There was a change in the boy after that. The dream in his eyes did
not fade, but he worked now with an intensity of purpose that had
never existed before. Previously, the two had held routine jobs in a
huge commercial organization. Without warning O'Brien quit. Arnsen
followed suit, feeling the necessity for staying close to the younger
man. Yet in the days to come, he amounted to little more than excess
baggage.
O'Brien had plans. He borrowed money, scraped together enough to
equip a small laboratory, and there he worked long hours. Arnsen
helped when he could, though that was not often. He seldom knew
exactly what the boy was trying to accomplish.
Once O'Brien said a queer thing. They were in the laboratory,
awaiting the result of an experiment, and Arnsen was pacing back
and forth nervously.
"I wish I knew what was up, Doug," he said almost with anger. "We've
been at this for months now. What do you expect, anyway? You've
had no more than an ordinary training in physics."
"The jewel helps," O'Brien said. He took the gem from its suede bag
and stared into the cloudy depths. "I catch—thoughts from it."
Arnsen stopped short, staring. His face changed.
"You kidding?" he demanded.
O'Brien flushed. "Okay, try it," he said, thrusting the stone at Arnsen,
who took it rather reluctantly. "Shut your eyes and let your mind go
blank. That does it, sometimes."
"I—all right." Arnsen squeezed his eyes closed and thought of
nothing. Instantly a sick, horrible feeling swept through him—a terrible
yearning such as he had never known before. So might the
Assassins feel, deprived of the magic drug that took them to
Paradise. An Assassin exiled, cast into outer darkness.
A face swam into view, lovely and strange beyond imagination. Only
a glimpse he had, blotted out by rainbow, coruscating lights that
darted and flashed like elfin fireflies. Then darkness, once more, and
the frightful longing—for what?
He let go of the gem; O'Brien caught it as it fell. The boy smiled wryly.
"I wondered if you'd get it, too. Did you see her?"
"I saw nothing," Arnsen snarled, whirling toward the door. "I felt
nothing!"
"Yet you're afraid. Why? I don't fear her, or the stone."
"The more fool you," Arnsen cast over his shoulder as he went out.
He felt sick and weak, as though unnameable vistas had opened
before him. There was no explanation for what he had felt—no sane
explanation, at least.

And yet there might be, he thought, as he paced about the yard,
smoking an endless chain of cigarettes. Telepathy, thought-
transference—he had simply caught what was in O'Brien's mind. But
it was horrible to know that Doug was feeling that soul-sick craving for
the goddess-girl who could not exist.
O'Brien came out of the laboratory, eyes aglow. "It's done," he said,
trying to repress his triumph. "We've got the alloy at last. That last
treatment did the trick."
Arnsen felt vague apprehension. He tried to congratulate O'Brien, but
his tone rang false to his own ears. The boy smiled understandingly.
"It's been good of you to string along, Steve. The thing will pay off
now. Only—I'll need a lot of money."
"You'll have a lot. Plenty of companies will be bidding for the
process."
O'Brien said, "I want enough to buy a spaceship."
Arnsen whistled. "That's a lot. Even for a small boat." His eyes
narrowed. "Why do you want it?"
"I'm going to find Deirdre," the other said simply. "She's out there,
somewhere." He tilted his head back. "And I'll find her."
"Space is pretty big."
"I've a guide." O'Brien took out the gray gem. "It wants to go to her,
too. It wants to go back. It isn't really alive here on Earth, you know.
And I'm not just dreaming, Steve. How do you suppose I managed to
make this alloy—the perfect plastic, tougher than beryllium steel,
lighter than aluminum, a conductor or non-conductor of electricity
depending on the mix.... You know I couldn't have done it alone."
"You did it."
O'Brien touched the jewel. "I found out how to do it. There's life in
here, Steve. Not earthly life, but intelligent. I could understand a little,
not much. Enough to work out the alloy. I had to do that first, so I
could get money enough to buy a spaceship."
"You don't know how to pilot in space."
"We'll hire a pilot."
"We?"
He grinned. "I'm going to prove my point. You don't believe in Deirdre.
But you'll see her, Steve. The jewel will guide us. It wants to go home
—so we'll take it there."
Arnsen scowled and turned away, his big shoulders tense with
unreasoning anger. He found himself hating the imaginary being
O'Brien had created. Deirdre! His fists clenched.
She did not exist. The major planets and satellites had been
explored; the inhabited ones held nothing remotely human. Martians
were huge-headed, spindle-legged horrors; Venusians were scaled
amphibians, living in a state of feudalism and constant warfare. The
other planets ... the avian, hollow-boned Callistans were closest to
humanity, but by no stretch of the imagination could they be called
beautiful. And Deirdre was beautiful. Imaginary or not, she was lovely
as a goddess.
Damn her!
But that did no good. O'Brien was not to be turned from his purpose.
With relentless, swift intensity he patented the alloy process, sold it to
the highest bidder, and purchased a light space cruiser. He found a
pilot, a leather-skinned, tough, tobacco-chewing man named Tex
Hastings, who could be depended on to do what he was told and
keep his mouth shut.
O'Brien chafed with impatience till the cruiser jetted off from the
spaceport. The closer he came to achieving his goal, the more
nervous he grew. The jewel he kept clenched in one hand most of the
time. Arnsen noticed that a dim brilliance was beginning to glow
within it as the ship plunged farther out toward the void.
Hastings cast quizzical glances at O'Brien, but did what he was told.
He confided in Arnsen.
"We haven't even bothered with charts. It's screwy, but I'm not
kicking. Only this isn't piloting. Your friend just points at a star-sector
and says, 'Go there.' Funny." He scratched his leathery cheek, faded
eyes intent on Arnsen's face.
The big man nodded. "I know. But it isn't up to me, Hastings. I'm
super-cargo."
"Yeah. Well, if you—want any help—you can count on me. I've seen
space-madness before."
Arnsen snorted. "Space-madness!"
Hastings' eyes were steady. "I may be wrong, sure. But anything can
happen out here. We're not on Earth, Mr. Arnsen. Earth laws don't
apply. Neither does logic. We're on the edge of the unknown."
"I never thought you were superstitious."
"I'm not. Only I've been around, and seen a lot. That crystal Mr.
O'Brien lugs around with him—I never saw anything like that before."
He waited, but Arnsen didn't speak. "All right, then. I've known things
to drift in from Outside. Funny things, damn funny. The Solar
System's like a Sargasso. It catches flotsam from other systems,
even other universes, for all I know. One rule I've learned—when you
can't guess the answer, it's a good idea to stay clear."
Arnsen grunted moodily, staring out a port at the glaring brilliance of
the stars.
"Ever heard any stories about jewels like that one?"
Hastings shook his closely-cropped head. "No. But I saw a wreck
once, Sunside of Pluto—a ship that hadn't been designed in this
System. It was deserted; God knows how long it had been out there.
Or where it came from. Inside, it wasn't designed for human beings at
all. It came from Outside, of course, and Outside is a big place. That
jewel, now—" He bit the end off a quid of tobacco.
"What about it?"
"It's an Outside sort of thing. And your friend isn't acting normal. It
may add up to trouble. It may not. My point is that I'm going to keep
my eyes open, and you'd be wise to do the same thing."
Arnsen went back to the galley and fried eggs, angry with himself for
listening to Hastings' hints. He was more than ever uncomfortable.
Back on Earth, it had been easier to disbelieve in any unknown
powers that the gray jewel might possess; here, it was different.
Space was the hinterland, the waste that bordered the cryptic
Outside. The forward step in science that threw open the gates of
interplanetary travel had, in a way, taken man back in time to a day
when he cowered in a cave, fearing the powers of the dark that lurked
in the unknown jungle. Space travel had broken barriers. It opened a
door that, perhaps, should have remained forever closed.
On the shores of space strange flotsam was cast. Arnsen's gaze
probed out through the port, to the red globe of Mars, the blinding
brilliance of the Milky Way, the enigmatic shadow of the Coal Sack.
Out there anything might lie. Life grown from a matrix neither Earthly
nor even three-dimensional. Charles Fort had hinted at it; scientists
had hazarded wild guesses. The cosmic womb of space, from which
blasphemous abortions might be cast.
So they went on, day after day, skirting Mars and plunging on into the
thick of the asteroid belt. It was uncharted country now, a Sargasso of
remnants from an exploded planet that had existed here eons ago.
Sounds rang loudly in the narrow confines of the space ship.
Nervousness gripped all three of the men. But O'Brien found comfort
in the gray crystal. His eyes held a glowing light of triumph.
"We are coming closer, Steve," he said. "Deirdre isn't far away now."
"Damn Deirdre," Arnsen said—but not aloud.
The ship went on, following the blind course O'Brien pointed.
Hastings shook his head in grim silence, and trained his passengers
in the use of the space-suits. Few of the asteroids had atmosphere,
and it became increasingly evident that the destination was an
asteroid....

CHAPTER THREE
The Singing Crystals
They found it at last, a jagged, slowly revolving ball that looked
incredibly desolate, slag from some solar furnace. The telescope
showed no life. The ball had hardened as it whirled, and the molten
rock had frozen instantly, in frigid space, into spiky, giant crags and
stalagmites. No atmosphere, no water, no sign of life in any form.
The crystal O'Brien held had changed. A pale light streamed from it.
O'Brien's face was tensely eager.
"This is it. Set the ship down, Hastings."
The pilot made a grimace, but bent toward the controls. It was a
ticklish task at best, for he had to match the ship's speed to the speed
of the asteroid's revolution and circle in, describing a narrowing spiral.
Rocket ships are not built for maneuverability. They blast their way to
ground and up again through sheer roaring power.
She settled bumpily on the iron-hard surface of the asteroid, and
Arnsen looked through the thick visiglass at desolation that struck a
chill to his heart. Life had never existed here. It was a world damned
in the making, a tiny planetoid forever condemned to unbearable
night and silence. It was one with the darkness. The sun-glare, in the
absence of atmosphere, made sharp contrasts between light and jet
shadow. The fingers of rock reached up hungrily, as though searching
for warmth. There was nothing menacing about the picture. It was
horrible in its lifelessness; that was all.