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  “There were a lot of deep gulps, sir, but everyone accepted the necessity. They knew what was at stake if the Broa captured us alive or dead. They worked their asses off to see that didn’t happen.”

  “They didn’t hold out hope for rescue?”

  “We were out of communications and deep in enemy space. It didn’t occur to us that rescue was an option.”

  Landon nodded. “And so, with your backs against the wall and the lions at the gate, you decided to go out like men.”

  “I wouldn’t put it so poetically. We realized we had been dealt a shitty hand and we played it.”

  Laughing, Landon said, “Damn, Mark! You did good for a pampered playboy. Did you know I almost tossed you out the airlock that day you came barging into PoleStar?”

  “I got that impression from our first meeting, Admiral.”

  “Glad I didn’t. One should always short-circuit first impulses. Has anyone made you aware of the… shall we say, controversy… that has accompanied your promotions?”

  “No, sir,” Mark said, suddenly deflated.

  “You and Lisa earned your commissions en route on the second Long Jump. A lot of officers, academy graduates, that is, view that sort of like obtaining your degree by mail order. It just isn’t done, you know. The carping has been muted where Lisa is concerned. She’s our very best translator, and it is traditional for specialists to be given rank to acknowledge their expertise.

  “A former playboy who broke every rule in the book to learn the Solar System’s biggest secret is another thing altogether in their eyes. Even after we adopted your strategy to fight the Broa, there were those who argued against my promoting you.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t know that, sir.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t know it either, because it is pure vacuum dust. You have been promoted because of your performance at Klys’kra’t, Pastol and during three Long Jumps. To season you, I’ve jumped you through a whole series of subordinate positions. You handled them well, earned the respect of your commanding officers, and have used your wits to good effect. If you had failed to measure up, the promotions would have ceased immediately.

  “I am telling you this because I want you to understand the Navy has politics, too. And though you have earned your stripes, the next jump is a big one. With your background, it is highly unlikely you would ever command a ship.”

  Landon smiled that evil grin of his and paused to take a sip of his drink.

  “Oh, right! You have already commanded one, haven’t you? And, you have served with distinction. So, I want to warn you that it is my intention to find you a ship. We don’t have anything available just now, but something should open up soon. You saw that traffic jam overhead. It’s worse at Nemesis. There is always a certain amount of churn in the force structure.

  “What do you think of that, Commander?”

  “I’m honored, Admiral. I just hope I can live up to your expectations.”

  “I know you will. That was a damned difficult situation you found yourself in. It’s hard to promulgate a course of action that will most likely end in your death. Most people couldn’t do it. You proved that you can. I don’t know how many of my officers would have done as well.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Is there anything else we need to discuss before I let you go?”

  “Yes, sir. Susan Ahrendt.”

  “What about her?”

  Mark recounted his talk with Susan aboard Yeovil and her desire to get into the fight rather than return to Earth.

  Landon listened passively. When Mark finished, he asked, “Do you think she has what it takes to serve aboard a warship?”

  “She has psychological toughness, sir. She proved that at Sabator. Dr. Hamjid has put her in for a commendation for her work with the wounded. She’s smart and a fast learner. With a little training, she can handle any job, except engineering.”

  “Would you want her as a member of your crew when you get your ship, Commander?” Landon’s tone was the unchanged, but his expression betrayed his increased interest in the answer.

  “Of course.”

  “What about your wife? Would she object?”

  “I beg your pardon, Admiral?”

  “There’s been scuttlebutt, Commander.”

  Inwardly, Mark squirmed. Outwardly, he locked eyes with Landon. “There’s always scuttlebutt, Admiral. The only relationship Susan Ahrendt and I have is that we almost died together. And if you give me a ship, I won’t be consulting my wife on personnel matters.”

  Landon nodded. “Message received. Let me pull her records. It’s unusual for someone on the science side to ask for a transfer to the real navy. I approve in principle, but I won’t saddle a captain with an unsuitable rating, not even as a favor.”

  “Of course not,” Mark said, irritated at the implication that he would suggest otherwise.

  “Go get yourself settled,” Landon said. “I would like you to join me for dinner this evening in my quarters. We have a small group that plays poker on Tuesday nights. We’re looking for new blood.”

  #

  Mark had been concerned at Galahad’s tardiness when he arrived at Brink’s Base. At the end of three weeks, he was frantic.

  He began to have nightmares. He now knew how his wife felt at the edge of the Sabator System, unable to help him. That was historically the way it had always been. The husband went off to war and the wife stayed home and worried. Now the situation was reversed and he wasn’t sure he had what it took to be the passive spouse. An old saying kept running through his head: They also serve who only sit and wait.

  His life slipped into an unsatisfactory routine. Admiral Landon attached him to the Fleet General Staff, updating attack plans for the offensive they planned, if and when they found the Broan home world.

  After eight or ten hours spent staring into a computer screen, he ate a hasty dinner and returned to his quarters. Each night, just before turning in, he did a check of the ship registry and then retired to his bunk. As soon as he woke the next morning, he checked the ship registry again, and during lunch. Each time he was disappointed. No sign of Galahad.

  At the beginning of the fourth week, Mark decided he needed to do something beside check the orbit list. With visions of a mechanical breakdown stranding Lisa and the rest of the cruiser’s crew, Mark rehearsed a speech he planned to give Admiral Landon. He wanted a ship to return to Sabator to make sure Galahad wasn’t still there.

  Of course, if they weren’t there, they were lost in the infinite blackness between the stars, and that meant they were doomed, if not already dead.

  Mark was running through his speech in front of the mirror for the third time when he was interrupted by the buzzing of his communicator. He noted that it was Admiral Landon.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You can climb down from that pin cushion you’ve been sitting on, Commander. Operations just passed me an encoded message from Galahad. They are two billion kilometers out and inbound. Everyone aboard is fine and Lisa sends you her love.”

  Mark’s sigh was audible over the comm. “Thank you, sir! What took them so long?”

  There was a long pause before Landon said quietly, “The answer to that question is classified. Divulge it to anyone before I am ready and you will find yourself back on Nemesis. Got me, Commander?”

  The change in tone surprised Mark. He gulped and said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Galahad is late because she took a little side trip.”

  “A side trip, sir?”

  “It was your wife’s idea. I’m sure she will tell you all about it the next time you two share a pillow, so I won’t keep you in suspense…

  “Galahad has found the Broan home world.”

  #

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Two sparks appeared against the black of a star field and faded, followed by one more.

  “You see there,” Dos-Val said, pointing to the display screen in the Prime Councilor’s office. “The destructi
on of the Mining Boat Saf, the Hunter-Sniffer Vaardat, and the Avenger Dostar’s Duty. The weapon is the same as the one that destroyed the Pastol stargate.”

  “Then it is the wild bipeds?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Zel-Sen shifted position on his resting frame. “How did it begin?”

  “A large explosion between the fifth and sixth planets of the Sabator System was detected by sky monitors. The local Huntmaster sent three ships to investigate. They were closing in on the remnant when the bipeds opened fire and destroyed them.”

  “A biped ship exploded?”

  “It appears so. It made no attempt to maneuver. We conclude that its engines were damaged. From the size of the original explosion, I cannot understand why it was not completely vaporized.”

  “Yet, its weapons remained operational.”

  Dos-Val signaled his assent.

  “Do we know anything about this weapon?”

  “It seems to be kinetic in nature. From an analysis of the flashes, we estimate the speed of whatever struck our ships as ten-twelfths the speed of light. We presume it is a missile. The acceleration rate from point of launch to target is phenomenal. We are checking to see if our sensors recorded an energy discharge along the flight path.”

  “And what of this second ship?”

  “It appeared a revolution later, rendezvoused with the damaged ship, then fled. We assigned two ships to pursue, but the orbital mechanics were against us. Shortly after, the first ship was vaporized by an explosion.”

  “The new weapon again?”

  “No, a simple nuclear device. The spectrum indicates it was efficiently manufactured.”

  “And you believe these wild bipeds are moving freely about Civilization using our stargates?”

  “They have certainly used the gates, Prime Councilor. We have proof that three of their ships used the gates. We suspect many more. However, I do not believe that is their normal means of interstellar travel. Their ships likely use this new coordinate transformation technology the Institute of Physics warned us about.”

  “This myth of Gor-Dek’s?”

  “It is no myth. My specialists confirm the theory to be consistent with modern multi-dimensional theory. They believe engines can be built that operate on this principle.”

  “And these engines allow a ship to travel between stars without stargates?”

  “Yes, Prime Councilor.”

  “Then it is easy to see why the knowledge is forbidden. Were such a technology in everyday use, it would make Civilization ungovernable. Do you have any proof other than your supposition that the bipeds actually possess this technology?”

  “We tracked the second ship until it disappeared into the background radiation. It never deviated from its outbound course. Either the bipeds plan to spend the next several generations en route to the nearest star, or they used their faster-than-light engine after we lost sight of them.”

  Zel-Sen fell into a pensive silence. There was much to consider here. As Prime Councilor, it was his duty to safeguard that which the ancestors had bequeathed the current generation. Of all their gifts, the primacy of the stargate was by far the most important. Stargates brought order out of chaos. If this alternate star flight technology existed, it would have to be suppressed.

  The problem was convincing the Ruling Council. He’d already warned them that a wild species was loose in Civilization. Most councilors were dubious. Now he would have to call them into session to tell them the situation was much worse than even he had suspected.

  And his whole proof consisted of three bright sparks silhouetted against a star field.

  #

  When Dos-Val returned to the Ministry of Science, he found Kalz-Vor waiting for him.

  “How was your audience with the Prime Councilor?” the younger male asked.

  “Exciting. He required very little convincing. He also believes the bipeds are a grave threat. However, he doesn’t think he can convince the council with the evidence we provided. He is asking for more proof.”

  Dos-Val looked at his assistant and continued, “And on that subject, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be analyzing the recording from Karap-Vas? We must know how this weapon works.”

  “I have three of my best specialists doing a pixel-by-pixel review. At the speed the missile was traveling, it had to leave some trace in the interplanetary medium. They are scanning for signs of an ion wake.”

  “Shouldn’t you assist them?”

  “I would, Subminister. However, I received a message from Gor-Dek. He asks that we come to the Institute of Physics.”

  “Why?”

  “He said he has something important to show us.”

  “His experiment? Surely he hasn’t finished building his coordinate transformation generator so quickly.”

  “No. They are still fabricating components.”

  Dos-Val was relieved. “I haven’t told the Prime Councilor of the project yet, let alone that it has reached the experimental stage.”

  “Would you like me to postpone? I can tell him you are busy with the Prime Councilor’s business.”

  “No. Perhaps he can suggest something to back up our theory. Tell him that we are on our way.”

  Kalz-Vor left to contact the physicist and arrange transport. Dos-Val turned to the floor-to-ceiling window behind him. Across the intervening greensward, he could see the Council Building looming over the battlements of Old City.

  The sound of his office door retracting into the wall announced the return of Kalz-Vor.

  “The car is here, Subminister”

  Like the Ministry of Science, the Institute of Physics was located in the band of towers that encircled Old City and its surrounding parklands. Although in the same band, the two buildings were nearly diametrically opposite one another. To reach the Institute, they followed the circular highway that, along with a wall and the outer parklands, formed the physical barrier between the ring of towers and the surrounding slum where the subservients lived. When they reached the Institute, a young male waited for them at the entrance.

  “Greetings, Subminister,” he said. “I am Philosopher Gor-Dek’s assistant. He apologizes that he did not come himself. His bones are causing him pain this morning. He asked that I guide you.”

  Despite being subordinate to the Ministry of Science, the Institute of Physics was, if anything, even more lavishly furnished. Dos-Val thought the scientists were overcompensating for their subordinate rank, but kept the opinion to himself.

  When they reached Gor-Dek’s office, they found him sprawled comfortably on a resting frame, active at his work screen. He had none of the look of an ancient about him today. To judge by the way he greeted them, he might have been a young cub.

  “Welcome, Subminister. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “I understand you have something to show me?”

  “I do. A ship arrived yesterday, carrying a specimen the local hunt master seized from the natives on his planet. Not knowing what to do with it, the port authorities directed it to us. I spent all last night evaluating it. I thought the reports might be exaggerated. They were not.”

  “What reports? What are you talking about?” Dos-Val asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

  “It is better that you see for yourself.”

  Gor-Dek climbed off the frame. His youthful demeanor vanished as he put weight on his legs. Moving carefully and in obvious pain, he led them out a second door and down a long corridor.

  Dos-Val and Kalz-Vor matched their pace to that of the oldster. After they had knuckle-walked half the length of the corridor, Dos-Val asked, “Would you not feel better in a conveyor?”

  “My doctor tells me that I need to exercise every day. This is me exercising.”

  They reached a door with an elaborate security lock guarded by two Banlath soldiers. The Banlath were a squat, well-armored species renowned for their loyalty and ferocity. They were armed with pellet throwers.


  Gor-Dek used his pass to open the door. He led them through into a maze of hallways and individual laboratories. At the end of one corridor, they passed through an airlock of the sort used to isolate hazardous microorganisms.

  “Is there a risk of disease?” Kalz-Vor asked, his eyes wide with apprehension.

  “No, we put it in here because this is where we have enough space to house it.”

  “‘It’ is… what?” Dos-Val asked. He enjoyed mysteries as much as anyone, but this was becoming tedious.

  “One more door,” the physicist replied.

  They emerged onto an observation platform high above a cavernous work area. Below, a large number of technicians were clustered around an ovoid the size of a two air cars. The overhead lights glinted dully off its surface, and some of the inner mechanism could be seen through a jagged, blackened hole in its side.

  “What is it?” Dos-Val asked.

  “If you believe the information screen in the cabin…,” Gor-Dek replied, “… it is a fully functional starship driven by coordinate transformation engines.”

  Dos-Val blinked, then emitted the noise that signified mirth among the Broa.

  Suddenly, the task of convincing Those Who Rule of the danger represented by this alternate interstellar technology seemed a great deal easier!

  #

  Chapter Forty

  The first boat from T.S.N.S. Galahad touched down at Brinks Base five days after the cruiser dropped sublight on the edge of the system. It carried Captain Cavendish, Lisa Rykand, and the other translators who had performed oversight at Sabator. As the small group exited the main airlock into the Brinks Arrival Hall, they were met by Admiral Landon, Mark Rykand and the admiral’s two Marine escorts.

  There are military protocols for when a senior officer meets a group of mixed rank subordinates. They involve formal salutes, rigid hierarchies, and restrained expressions of appreciation and/or greeting. This particular military homecoming had none of those.

  As Lisa exited the airlock, she caught sight of her husband. Emitting a high-pitched squeal, she darted, slipping and sliding, toward where he stood with his arms wide and a big grin on his face. It isn’t easy to run in Sutton gravity, but she gained enough momentum that she flew the last few meters into his arms, causing the two of them to slide backwards across the floor while barely maintaining their balance.