ANTARES VICTORY

By
 
Michael McCollum
 
 
Chapter 1
Admiral (First Rank) Richard Arthur Drake lay strapped in his acceleration couch 
aboard the orbit-to-orbit shuttle and gazed at the glowing apparition that 
covered half the ebon sky before him. Here in the Napier system, the Antares 
Nebula was a hundred times larger than it was in the night skies of home.
The nebula was a lustrous ball of gas and dust as beautiful as it was deadly. 
Its intricate network of swirls was a gossamer spider web suspended inside the 
shell of a shimmering cosmic egg. Save for its seemingly solid central core, the 
nebulas delicate filaments were nearly transparent until they approached its 
outer shell, where they again took on the hue of a fluorescent glow tube. The 
apparition was a reminder of the enormous cruel joke that God or Mother Nature, 
or Saint Murphy, or someone had played on Drake, his wife, humanity, and yes, 
even the Ryall.
Six years earlier, Antares had been the brightest star decorating the night sky 
of Drakes home planet, Alta. The baleful red spothadhad dominated the winter 
firmamenteverforallthecenturies since colonists first set foot 
onaworldthatwastheblue-whiteworld that wasin many waysa virtually thetwintoof 
Mother Earth. For four hundred and thirty winters, Antares had been the 
real-life version of the red stars with which Altan children decorated theirfala 
bushes at Christmastime, an ochre beacon hoveringlow over the Colgate Mountain 
Rangeeach eveningafter sunset.. Then, at 17:30 hours on the night of Aquarius 
16, 2637,withinamatterofminutes, the ruby starhad undergone had undergonea 
breathtaking transformation. Its reddish huehad turned the color of an electric 
sparkthat burneda billion times brighter thanhadthe old Antares.  IIn a matter 
of minutes, the dying ember ofastarblossomedblossomedPhoenix-liketo becomeinto 
the brighteststarobject in the galaxy.
To those who observed the newborn electric sparkhigh above the city of Homeport, 
there was no mystery as to what hadhappened. The cause of the 
transformationwashad been obvious.
Antares had been well into its dotage long before human beings discovered 
startravel. For thousands of years, the red supergiantstarhadprofligately 
consumedhydrogen, heedless of the day when that fuel must inevitably run out. 
That day came in 2512(standard calendar). WithAntares,thelinchpintothenothing 
left to burn, the fusion reaction thathad longpoweredAntares inner 
engineflickered,anddied. With no internally generated heat to oppose the pull of 
gravity, the core of the red giantcollapsed. Gigatons of star stuff 
gaveupitsenergy of position as it slid down the gravity well, causing the 
surrounding temperature tojumpmore than a billion degreesin an instant. The 
release of so much energy in so short a timetriggerednewfusion, whichgenerated 
yet moreenergy. Therunaway reactioncould not be contained.   
Antaresexploded intothe largestsupernovaever observed by human beings.
The universe is a very large place, especially when measured in terms of the 
veritable crawlthatis lightspeed. The distance between Antares and Alta was such 
that it tookthenovawavefront125 years to cross the gulf of space betweenthem. 
When thefirst photonsfrom the explosionfinally reached the colony world, they 
burst forthin a phenomenonthatquickly became known as Antares dawnlight. 
However, aAntares Foldspace Clustersinterconnectingseries of interstellar 
pathways,had gone supernovain the year 2512. A century-and-a-quarter later, 
theexpanding shockwavefrom theeventhadfinally reachedValeria, Altas star. 
Having completed its long journey across the vacuum of space,Antares 
dawnlighthadfinally burst forth across Drakes world.
As impressive as the giant stars funeral pyrewasduring those first few weeks,in 
one important respect,its 
appearancelookedasithungabovetheColgateMountainrange,inoneimportantaspect,theactualarrivalofthehad 
beensupernovaswave fronthad been  anticlimactic. For while the photons thrown 
out by the explosion moved atthe virtual crawl that is light speed,the
supernovahadmadeitsbirthknownonAltaalmostthesameinstantthatithadoccurred.
Scientists have long known that thecataclysmictitanic flashof lightthat 
marksasupernovawithwhichsupernovaehavefascinatedhumanbeingsforsolongis merely a 
minor side effectof ofwhat isreallyactually taking place. In addition to 
outshining allofothertheother starsinin the galaxycombined, a supernova produces 
a titanic storm of particles across the subatomic spectrum. 
Neutrinosarethemostnumerousproductsofthesupernovareaction,racingfreeoftheexpandingballofplasmatheinstanttheycomeintobeingWhiletheseandmany. 
Every other form of energyisalsopresent inabundance. Andwhile 
manyotheroftheeffects are of interest only to astronomersand physicists,Antares 
death had carried with ittheone consequencethat affected thelivesof 
Antaressupernovahadhadoneconsequencethatimpactedthelivesof everyoneon Altain the 
Valeria System . In addition to vaporizing everythingmaterial around it  
including the hapless ships and crewsthenthatwere in transit across the Antares 
systematthemomentofcataclysm  the supernova 
disruptedspace-timeanddefocusedinterstellarpathwaysallacrossnearbyspacedisruptedstar 
travel throughout the region,cuttingAltaofffrom therest of human space.
.
The invisiblepathwayspathways between the starswea re the result of long, 
intricatelines of folded space that emanate from the gigantic black hole that 
inhabits the central core of the Milky Way Galaxy  and indeed, all spiral 
galaxies. These foldlines weave intricate webs of folded space as they sweep 
outward along the spiral arms, intersecting some stars while bypassing others. 
Where a foldline intersects a star,sometimes itis often isfocused by the stars 
gravity well to produce a weak spot in the vacuum of space. Such weak spots 
are called foldpoints, and within their planet-sized volumes, it is possible 
to produce a hole in space-time. A ship that positions itself within a foldpoint 
and thengeneratesreleases aprecisely formedenergyfieldcomplexenergyfield will 
effectively drop out of the universe and be flung instantly along the foldline 
to the next weak point, where it returns tonormalreal space without having 
traversed the intervening distance.
For half a thousand years, humanitys ships had usedfoldpointsand 
foldlinestofindato circumventway around Einsteins universal speed limit. 
Slowly,meticulously,humanityhadexploredalongtheweboffoldlines,puttingdowncolonieswherevertheyfoundterrestrial-classplanets. 
ThefFoldlines were the superhighways to the stars, with most stars possessing at 
least twofoldpointsfoldpoints, and sometimes as many as four. Antares, in the 
days before its fiery death,had beenhadbeen the champion foldpoint producer in 
human space. Ithad possessed six of the gateways, making itthe majoran 
interstellar transportation hubin the sector that boreitsname..
Valeria, Altas star, possessed but a single foldpoint,a deficiency thatwhich 
made the Val System an interstellar cul-de-sac. Of necessity, allAlltraffic to 
and from Valeriahadto passedthrough the Napier System, from which Altawashadff 
irstbeen colonized. That, at least, had been the situation before the AntaressS 
upernova. The titanic explosion haddefocuseddisrupted the foldline running 
through the Valeriasystem, causing Altas single foldpoint to vanish without a 
trace.
Ithadnottakentheastrophysicistslongafterthedisappearancetorealizewhatmusthavehappened.
. 
EventhoughAntaresappearedunchangedintheAltansky,astronomersquicklyconcludedthatanearbysupernovahaddisruptedlocalspace-timeandcutthemofffromtherestofhumanity.
The loss of its sole gateway to the stars had plunged the Altan colony into a 
century of isolation. Nor had the Altan scientists any expectation that the 
sudden blossoming of the supernova in their skyAltan skytwelve 
decadeslaterafterthefact would change the situation. In this, 
theyastronomersproved less than prescient.
For when Valeria finally pricked the surface of the supernovas expanding bubble 
of radiation,the geometry offoldspace underwent adramatic 
transformation.something fundamental changed.  Having passed beyond the Val 
system, the supernova shockwave no longerintersected the foldline running 
between the two stars, allowingdisruptedthefoldlinerunningfromNapiertoValeria. 
WiththediscontinuitynolongerbetweenValeriaandNapier, Altas foldpointto formonce 
againreappeared highabovethe systems yellow dwarf primary.
 inthesystemsnorthernquadrant.
Withnooneexpectingthefoldpointsresurrection,tThe fact that Valeria was 
oncemoreagainconnected to therest of human space might have gone unnoticed for 
several years had it not been foran anomalous eventa few weeks 
afternetworkoffoldlinesmighthavegoneunnoticedforseveralyears. 
However,shortlyafterward,aneventtookplacethatwouldhavebeenhardnottonotice. 
Afewweeksafter Antares flashed violet-white in Altas sky. While studying the 
newly revealed supernova,anorbitingtelescope picked up a,amysterious 
shipsuddenly materializingin the vicinity of the systems long-lost foldpoint. 
edfaraboveValeriaAsastronomers watched openmouthed with amazement,the 
unidentified shipturned toward andbeganthrustingforthedeepspaceblack and began 
thrusting as though the legions of hell were chasing it.
Drakehad been a captain in the Altan Space Navy at the time. He had 
commandedASNS Discovery , one of the three old interstellar cruisers thatwerehad 
been stst randed in the system when Antares exploded. Shortly after the 
appearance of the mysterious ship,the Admiralty orderedDrakewasordered to 
intercept the interloper at maximum boost.
The chase was a difficult one conducted at high gravs the entire way. When they 
finallycaughtupwithoverhauled the intruder, they foundit a ghost ship. TSNS 
Conqueror, one of the terrestrial space navys mightiest dreadnoughts,wasproved 
to be nothing more than an animated hulkwhen Drake finally caught up with it. It 
was a hulkmanned by a dead crew, with no indication of what or who had killed 
them.
The discovery left the Altan government with a problem. On the one hand, the 
arrival ofConqueror announced that the way to the stars was once again open. On 
the other, its condition was mute testimony to dangerousconditionscircumstances 
somewhere beyond their local sky. IfConqueror could have destroyed the whole of 
the Altan Space Navy with little or no effort, yet had itself been battered to 
scrap metal by some unknown enemy, what of those who had destroyed it? Were they 
Altas friends or were they its foes?
Having asked the question, the government decided to send Richard Drake to find 
the answer
Task Force coming into view, Admiral, the pilot of the shuttle said from 
beside Drake.
Drake shook off the reverie into which he had fallen. It was a nasty habit of 
his whenever he contemplated the Antares Nebula, brought on undoubtedly by the 
fact that his own life had been inextricably linked to the nebula ever since it 
blazed bright in Altas night sky.
Alta was far away at the moment, as was his pregnant wife. He missed Bethany 
already, not that hed had more than a few months to be with her these past 
three years. Building the largest invasion fleet in the history of interstellar 
war had monopolized his attention, giving him the opportunity for only a few 
brief visits home, and one glorious vacation that had lasted an entire week. 
Still, Bethany had usually been within comm range, and the two of them had spent 
many enjoyable hours talking face to face via comm screen into the wee hours. 
Now more than a hundred light years of vacuum separated them, a distance that 
could only grow as humankind launched its maximum effort to defeat an implacable 
alien foe.
#
Drake pulled himself aboard the Terrestrial BlastshipVictory . In the suiting 
cubicle just inside the main ship lock, he found a Marine honor guard and a 
young man in the uniform of a commander in the Royal Sandarian Navy. 
SinceVictorywas in microgravityhadbeendespunto ease the arrival of landing craft 
from the other ships in the fleet,. Tthe Marines stood rigidly at attention with 
their boots locked into the floor grid to keep them from floating away. The 
commander floated free, steadying himself with a guideline.
Drake paused just inside the inner airlock door as martial music emanated from 
the shipsbulkhead-mounted speakersannunciators . It was some tune that he had 
heard on Earth, but one that he could not name. The unfamiliar musical style 
indicated thatwhateveritsname, the march must have been written after Altawashad 
been cut off from human space.
When the music ended, the saluting Marines all snapped their right hands down in 
unison. Drakepulled himselfcontinuedhisforwardprogress along the guideline. He 
pulled towardthe officerhis official greeter , whom he recognized.
 Admiral Drake, its good to see you, Phillip Walkirk exclaimed, extending his 
right hand while keeping hold of the guideline with his left.
Your Highness, good to see you again, Drake replied as he grasped Walkirks 
hand. I see you have come up in the world. AsI 
rememberwhen,thelasttimewemet,you were a lowly ensign.
Walkirk smiled. It could be that I have connections at court.
That, Drake knew, was an understatement. Four years earlier, Philliphad been 
assigned aboardDiscovery as an exchange officer. Drake had objected to the 
assignment when hehadfirst heard about it, not that he had anything personal 
against the young officer. The problem was that Phillipwas not just any member 
of the Sandarian Navy. His father was John-Phillip Walkirk VI, hereditary king 
and ruler of Sandar, and Phillip would one day follow him on the throne. The 
thought that the heir-apparent might be injured, or even killed, while serving 
aboard an Altan cruiser hadbeen enough to give Drakeinsomnia.
Walkirkhad served well while aboardDiscovery , and had even led the Marine 
boarding party thathad captured the Ryall freighterSpace Swimmer in whathad 
proved to be a pivotal action for the human war effort. He had 
accompaniedDiscovery to Earth, where events had unfolded that led inevitably to 
this gathering of the fleet.
Phillip, he noted, had filled out in the last few years. He still had the 
jet-black hair, intense eyes, and the prominent nose that marked the Walkirk 
clan. His shoulders were broader than they had been and his voice lacked the 
youthful tremor that sometimes crept in when he was excited. His eyes had gained 
a few wrinkles at their corners, as well; but then, whose had not?
Drake was significantly grayer than he had been when the two of them first met 
and he had to work harder than ever at keeping his paunch under control. His 
green eyes tended to squint more, the result of countless hours spent in front 
of a computer screen working out the myriad details required for the impending 
invasion of Ryall space. He had not been alone in that task. Thousands of 
specialists across human space had worked out the plan on which they were about 
to bet the human race. Drake had a proprietary interest. The whole thing had 
originally been his idea.
At 41, he was getting to be an old man for a spacer, and the fact that he had 
been forced to leave his expectant wife a mere month before the birth of their 
first son had done nothing to improve his mood.
How many are onboard?
Everyone, Admiral. You are the last to arrive. I am here to guide you to the 
briefing.
Then guide away.
The young prince reversed his position and pulled himself along the guideline 
toward the hatch leading out of the hangar bay. Drake followed him. Soon the two 
of them were gliding through the corridors and passageways of the big 
terrestrial blastship. Unlike Drakes original command, which was a ring and 
cylinder design,Victory was an oversize cylinder, the better to utilize interior 
volume while retaining the ability to spin the ship for artificial gravity. It 
was an outrigger design, with many of its weapons and instruments in twin 
podsthatwere held stationary while the central body rotated, not unlike Drakes 
new flagship,Conqueror II . As he trailed Phillip through endless corridors and 
passageways, he wondered how the prince could have memorized the route in the 
short time he had been onboard.
Around them, serious-faced men and women moved with hurried purpose. If they 
recognized the insignia on the two colonial officers shoulders, they made no 
sign. Besides, spacers maneuvering in micro gravity had need of both hands for 
locomotion and none left over for saluting.
After it seemed they had traversed the entire length of the big ship, Phillip 
guided him to a large compartment in which three hundred naval officers were 
crammed into every available cubic meter, placing a heavy strain on the 
blastships environmental system. These were the captains and executive officers 
of the ships that had gathered in the Napier system in preparation for entering 
the Antares nebula. They did not, however, represent the whole of the invasion 
fleet, or even a majority of it. Task Force Spica would consist of eight major 
components, of which only two were representedaboardVictory .  inthecompartment. 
The fleets that made up the rest of the invasionforcefleet were assembling in 
half a dozen star systems across human space. They would rendezvous with the 
Altan and Sandarian fleets, and the sizeable Terrestrial Space Navy 
contingentthat had been assigned to augment them, oncetheywere allwereinside the 
nebula.
Most of those present had strapped themselves into seats bolted to the curved 
deck, while several clumps of officers floated free to consult with one another. 
As Drake entered, acceleration alarms began to hoot and a disembodied voice 
announced the imminent return of spin gravity. Drake quickly used the overhead 
handholds to move to his position at the table that had been set up at the front 
of the compartment.
There he joined Grand Admiral Georges Terence Belton, who was already strapped 
into his seat. The admiral was reviewing his notes. AtDrakes approach, he 
looked up and nodded gravely.
Welcome,Drake. How was the trip from Alta?
Hurried, sir. I wish the lizards had given us another month to prepare.
Hell, why not ask for another year?
No sense tempting the fates, sir. A month would have been sufficient.
Belton rubbed his chin, and then nodded. You might be right. I know I would 
have been more prepared for this coming fight. Still, while we are wishing, we 
might want to ask for another hundred orbital fortresses.
Just get us the ones we already have in time to do some good, sir.
G.T. Belton was in overall command of the Spica Operation, andDrakes boss, even 
though he would not be going within a hundred light years of the fleets 
objective. Belton had done a brilliant job in bringing a billion disparate 
elements together to mount the invasion. However, like General Groves of the 
fabled Manhattan Project, Beltons skills were that of an organizer more than a 
warrior. Now that the time had come to put his planning into practice, he would 
continue in overall command  as much as a sop to the politicians of Earth as 
for military necessity  but a younger, more vigorous commander would take over 
direct operational responsibility for the invasion.
After a lengthy debate in which several of the better-known candidates had 
counterbalanced one another out of the job, a little-known colonial officerhad 
been chosenwas selected for operational command of humanity's invasion fleet. 
That officer wasRichard Drake, of the Altan Space Navy.
Ready to give the lizards a swift kick in the tail? Belton asked as he buckled 
in.
Yes, sir,Drakereplied. And thank you for the trust you have shown in 
supporting me for this command.
You may want to hold your appreciations until you have a few engagements under 
your belt. Being at the sharp end of the spear can be a thankless job, 
especially when you have to deal with REMFs.
REMFs, sir?
Old terrestrial navy expression,Drake. Its roots are obscene. It refers to the 
assholes back at basewhothat wont give the man in combat what he needs unless 
he asks in triplicate. You can rest assured, by the way, that so long as I am on 
the job, there will be a minimum of that sort of bullshit.
I know that, sir. I also know how many senior officers were passed over for 
this assignment, sir,;and how much your opinion counted in the decision.
Belton lowered his voice until onlyDrakecould hear him against the background 
noise. Then you also know, Admiral, that there will be a thousand pairs of eyes 
watching your every move, waiting for you to screw up.
Yes, sir.
Are you interested to know what tilted the decision in your favor?
If you would care to tell me, sir.
Because this invasion was your doing,Drake. You Altans arrived on Earth with a 
map of enemy foldspace, something no one else had managed to obtain in more than 
a century of war. Yet, even though you presented us with the key to victory on a 
silver platter, not one of us saw the implications until you forced us to see 
them. That shows an independence of thought that will be sorely needed in the 
coming campaign.
Belton spoke standard with an odd, but understandable, accent.  He was a native 
of the legendary city of Rome, a fabled place that Altan children studied in 
school, but one that no Altan (toDrakes knowledge) had ever seen with his own 
eyes. Their first brief visit to Earth had been too hectic to visit the Eternal 
City, and his two trips sincehadbeenwere consumed with planning for the 
invasion.
I still appreciate the chance you are giving me, Admiral. I wont let you 
down.
Appreciation noted, Belton said gruffly before raising his voice to his normal 
subdued bellowonce again. It was a voice that projected an image at odds with 
Beltons short stature and thinning hair. Now then, AdmiralDrake, are you ready 
to get on with the war?
Yes, sir.
Let us give the engineers five minutes to put some spin on this old bucket and 
then we start the briefing. I will keep my remarks short to give you more time 
for your spiel.
That will be fine, sir.
WhileDrakeled the bulk of humanitys offensive fleet into the heart of enemy 
space,Grand Admiral Belton would establish the bases and infrastructure needed 
to keep the fleet supplied. As Bethany,Drakes historian wife,had remarked when 
he told her of his appointment to operational command, Belton was to be General 
George C. Marshall toDrakes George Patton. Richardknew who General Patton had 
been, of course. One of the ships in the fleet was namedPatton .
He had never heard of George C. Marshall.
#
Officers of the Allied Forces of Humanity, welcome! Admiral Belton roared when 
a few tenths-gee returned to the ship. As he spoke, the terrestrial admiral let 
his gaze sweep over his audience. 
Virtuallyeveryuniforminhumanspacewasrepresentedinthisgathering. His listeners 
woreTherewasthe black-and-silveruniforms of the terrestrial 
navy,thesilver-and-goldofArcadiaandNewSaskatchewan, the ornate black-and-green 
of the Sandarians, the subdued, slightly quaint uniforms worn by the Altans, and 
a dozen more.
You have all been briefed extensively as to your jobs during the coming 
mission, so I wont bore you by being repetitive. Rather, AdmiralDrakeand I have 
invited you here today because this will be our last chance to gather in person. 
Togetherwecompriseeightdifferentbattlegroupsandaheadquartersstaff,andwWe will 
not likely find ourselves within a few million kilometers of one another again 
any time soon. Indeed, even if things go as well as we have planned them, many 
of us will not be returning to human space for several years and let us be 
honest, some of us will not be coming back at all. That is the way of war, a 
necessity we warriors accept as the price of service to our race.
Events will move very quickly once we enter the nebula and there will be little 
time for consultation. Therefore, it is important that every fleet and subfleet 
commander, every ship captain, every first officer, every ordinary spacer, 
understand our grand strategy. So, let me give it to you without the usual 
diplomatic niceties.
We will attack without warning, we will strike hard and swiftly, we will close 
with our enemy at every opportunity, we will pummel them without pause and 
respite. If we are audacious, we will have the advantage of surprise. Indeed, 
wemust have it, for without surprise, we will lose the coming campaign. You have 
all seen the roster of ships taking part in this operation and must know what it 
has cost us to assemble this many combat units so far from home. If we lose, the 
human race will be on the defensive for years to come while our worlds rebuild 
what we will have lost.
The stakes are high, ladies and gentleman, but the prize is worth it. After too 
many decades of fighting holding actions, we are striking into the very heart of 
our enemies domain. There we will be outnumbered and outgunned. We can give no 
quarter in the coming action, nor can we seek any. Our foes are xenophobes who 
oppose the very idea that we exist. They cannot help it. The impulse is baked 
into their very genes. For that reason, we cannot give them a break. If this is 
to be a war of extinction, it is our job to see that the other side does most of 
the dying.
As we go into danger, I would leave you with the following thought: We are not 
deploying this fleet merely to gain a narrow tactical edge. We do not seek a 
long-term strategic advantage. This time our goal is nothing less than total 
victory.
The admiral paused a few seconds to give his words time to sink in. He was 
gratified that he detected no false bravura or mindless smiles at the prospect 
of going into harms way. The mood of the gathered officers seemed one of grim 
determination. He approved of their attitude. The coming days and weeks would be 
grim indeed, and they would require all the determination the human race could 
muster. He finished his scan of the audience with a nod towardDrake.
I will now turn this briefing over to the man whose wild idea this operation 
originally was. Since no good deed ever goes unpunished, he will be in 
operational command of those of you who will engage in the initial assault.
 Ladies and gentlemen, AdmiralRichard Drake, of the Altan Space Navy.
#
Drakeclimbed to his feet in the careful way people do in minimal gravity. 
Springing up too quickly would merely have caused him to bounce a couple of 
meters into the air, possibly to hit his head on the maze of bare piping that 
cluttered the overhead, most certainly to look foolish until he floated back 
down again. When he had achieved an erect posture, he moved carefully to the 
podium, not so much walking as gliding his feet like an ice skater across the 
deck plates.
He took a few moments to arrange his material and to check the order of his 
presentation, already loaded intoVictory s main computer. Then he looked up at 
the expectant crowd, took a deep breath, and launched into the plan that he and 
a few thousand others hadspent the lasttwothree years perfecting.
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Task Force Spica. As you are 
well aware, the Antares Supernova of 2512 really messed up this section of 
space.
AsDrakespoke, the holocube flashed to show the exploding star in its depths. 
Around it, etched dimly in glowing red paths that were not quite straight, were 
the foldlines of the Antares Foldspace Cluster. When Antares blew, it changed 
the focus of foldlines all over the cluster and caused a new foldpoint to appear 
here in the Napier system. That foldpoint led directly into the heart of the 
Ryall Hegemony.
Youve all read books or seen holo-epics of that first encounter with the 
Ryall. You know how the Ryall fleet came boiling through the foldpoint to rain 
nuclear fire down on New Providence without provocation, even as its population 
was evacuating to escape the supernovas radiation. That was how we humans first 
learned of the Ryall, and of their xenophobia.
It has been more than a century since that first clash, and for all of that 
time, humanity has been on the defensive. Even though we seemtobe well matched 
in terms of technology and weaponry, we have been steadily losing this war for 
twelve decades now. Four years ago, we discovered the reason why.
Drakepressed a control on the podium and a diagram appeared. On it, the dimly 
glowing paths from Antares emanated like the strands of a spider web. One of 
these strands terminated in the Napier system, where the war had begun. Another 
pathway originated inside the Antares Nebula and arched across the screen to 
terminate in a star with the odd name of Eulysta.
It had been in the Eulysta system thatDrakeand the Altan-Sandarian military 
expedition had discovered the Ryall mining colony on Corlis, an otherwise 
uninhabited planet. It was there they had capturedSpace Swimmer with its 
astrogation computer intact. This, in turn, had given humankind its first good 
look at the geometry of Ryall space. Beyond Eulysta lay Carratyl, home system to 
one of the Ryall agricultural worlds. Beyond Carratyl lay Spica, the heart of 
the Ryall Hegemony.
 This is why the Ryall have been able to outfight us for a century. Spica is 
larger than Antares and possesses eight foldpoints. Just as Antares was a major 
hub for our commerce before it exploded, Spica is a major hub for Ryall 
interstellar commerce. In fact, it is theironly such hub.
Human space is strung out along the spiral arm of the galaxy, but Ryall space 
is a compact ball of stars, all of which are tied directly or indirectly to the 
central nexus at Spica. What this means is that no Ryall world is more than 
three foldspace jumps from Spica, which is a considerable improvement over the 
eight, ten, or even twelve jumps between the most widely separated human stars. 
Because of this arrangement, the Ryall enjoy interior lines of communication and 
can better utilize their navy. With fewer jumps between stars, they can always 
respond to our attacks more quickly than we can respond to theirs.
If Spica is their strength, it is also their Achillesheel. The ease with which 
they move goods from star to star has caused their economy to become 
differentiated. The worlds of the Ryall Hegemony tend to specialize. Some build 
weapons and ships, others build computers, still others grow the majority of 
their food. This arrangement makes considerable sense in a foldspace cluster 
where the stars are only a few jumps apart. However, it also makes them 
dependent on their interstellar commerce. Where our shipping largely consists of 
luxury goods and machinery intended to make our colonies self sufficient, theirs 
carries everyday necessities. Their worlds have become so specialized that the 
Ryall must trade to live.
That, then, is where we are going to hit them. So long as the Ryall control 
Spica, they can coordinate their attacks better than we can defend against them. 
Our defenses are too spread out, our reaction times too sluggish. They, on the 
other hand, can bring their whole fleet to bear on a single objective in a 
matter of weeks.
If, however, we blockade Spica, we will have gotten an iron wrecking bar into 
the gears of their well-oiled machine. With our ships in control of their 
primary transit system, it will be they who are hamstrung for a change. Denying 
them transit of Spica will break the hegemony into foldspace strings of just two 
or three stars each. They will not be able to communicate with one another, 
except by going the long way around the few series of foldspace transitions that 
bypass Spica.
Instead of the well-coordinated, massive assaults they have launched in the 
past, isolated systems will be forced to launch uncoordinated attacks through 
foldpoints where we will be waiting to slaughter them as soon as they 
materialize. For once, we will have the interior lines of communication and the 
luxury of nearby support. Instead of facing the whole, massive Ryall fleet at 
once, we will defeat each uncoordinated attack in detail.
 Drakelet his gaze scan the surrounding faces.
Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen. It is going to be a long war. Yet, if we 
can hold on long enough, the Ryall economy will collapse from the disruptions 
caused by our blockade. It will be our job to hold on until that happens.
#
&nbsp;
Chapter 2
&nbsp;
Varlan of the Scented Waters lay amid the unfamiliar green of alien plants, 
breathed the strange, but not unpleasant odor of them, and let a sun that was 
not her own warm her gray-green flanks and tail. She was physically comfortable, 
having pulled her six short legs up close to her body and stretched her long 
neck out across the green carpet of tiny plants that so reminded her of 
thevisoleth fields of home. For some reason, her captors favored keeping the 
small plants chopped off to a uniform height. The machine that did the chopping 
was quietly at work in a distant section of the large green field and would not 
enter the section around Varlan until its sensors detected her departure.
Her physical comfort on this warm, sun-drenched day was in sharp contrast to her 
psychic turmoil. She lay amid the greenery with nictating membranes covering her 
eyes, and her long, mobile ears erect, as she considered the strange turn her 
life hadtakensinceher captureshehadbeencaptured by the two-legged-monsters.
She had been perfectly happy with her life as manager of the Corlis Raw 
Materials Extraction Facility, where she had spent her waking periods in 
comfortable routine worrying about production goals, personnel health, and 
equipment maintenance schedules.  Her year had been governed not by Corliss 
seasons  since the planet rode upright in its orbit, and thus lacked such  but 
by the semi-annual visits of the ore freighters that transported refined metals 
back to the home stars.
Her comfortable routine had been shattered one day whenSpace Swimmer , the ore 
carrier then in orbit about Corlis,had reported the sudden appearance of strange 
ships in the interstellar gateway from the Evil Star. The development had been 
as frightening as it was unexpected. Her species natural philosophers knew that 
the second gateway in the Eulysta system led into the heart of a supernova 
remnant. In fact, had it led anywhere useful, Corlis would have been colonized 
long since, rather than being the home of a single outlying mineral extraction 
facility.
She realized immediately that if the enemies of her species had developed ships 
capable of safely penetrating the Evil Stars maelstrom of high-energy 
particles, whipping magnetic fields, and searing radiations, then Those Who Rule 
must learn of it immediately. She dispatchedSpace Swimmer toward the normal 
interstellar gate to spread the alarm and then turned her attention to 
transforming the tunnels of her facility into a defensive fortress.
As he fled toward the gateway and the safety of home space, Ossfil,Space Swimmer 
s commander, beamed thedatascene captured by his ships sensors back to Varlan 
on Corlis. Two alien ships quickly multiplied to more than a dozen. Almost as 
quickly asSpace Swimmer spotted their arrival in the Eulysta system, the 
monsters detected the fleeing ore carrier and dispatched high-acceleration craft 
to intercept it.
The rest of the alien fleet left the alternate gateway and began boosting for 
Corlis. Having done all she could to warn Those Who Rule, Varlan settled down to 
making the coming assault on her facility as expensive as possible.
 Her defensive preparations were completed about the time the swift ships of the 
enemy overtookSpace Swimmer . Three mornings after the ore carriers capture, 
armored bipeds attacked her facility. The fight had been sharp and quick, and 
the enemy everywhere victorious. Not even the defensive redoubt she established 
in Tunnel 3 held for very long. In the end, she and her surviving workers found 
themselves prisoners of an alien enemy.
Imprisonment was not as she had expected. The monsters treated her and her 
workers well. There was no torture or vivisections, nor were they deprived of 
food or a comfortable environment. However, the psychic strain of captivity had 
been great, especially after she learned the Monsters had capturedSpace Swimmer 
s astrogation computer. The race had long guarded the secret of their 
interstellar portals like a mother hovering over a clutch of eggs. To lose such 
a database intact was a disaster beyond description.
It had only been much later that she learned just how great a disaster it was.
Varlan, there you are! the familiar voice called. She lifted her head and 
turned her supple neck until her snout pointed directly back along the line in 
which her tail was pointed. There she saw Bethany, once of the Lindquists, now 
of the Drakes, approaching across the green carpet.
Bethany was one of the most confusing aspects of Varlans captivity. She was a 
two-legged-monster, true; yet, she considered herself Varlans friend. More 
surprisingly, despite her built-in horror at the thought of a universe inhabited 
by two races of intelligent beings, Varlan could not help feeling kindly toward 
Bethany. Not only did she find companionship with the two-legged female, she 
actually felt concern over Bethanys well being, especially now.
All of the two-legged monsters seemed odd to Varlans eyes, as though part of 
them was missing. However, she could see intellectually that the seemingly 
unstable bipedal form had its own functional elegance. When she had first met 
Bethany, the human had possessed a sleek form suitable for slicing through 
water. Even the various swells and curves that Varlan had learned were 
associated with Bethanys gender had a certain alien gracefulness to them. No 
longer.
Over the past two cycles, the abdomen of Varlans companion-enemy-friend had 
become grossly distended and her sense of balance, always precarious in Varlans 
eyes, had become even less reliable than usual.  Her walk, which had once been 
flowing as she teetered from one of the long stilts she used for legs to the 
other, was now uncertain and hesitant. Her new walk showed a distinct unease, so 
much so that the monsters even had a word for it, a word that Varlan had only 
recently learned. Bethany no longer walked, shewaddled .
Hello, Bethany of the Drakes. I thought it a day to sun myself, Varlan called 
when Bethany had waddled to where she lay. I hope you did not become 
concerned about my absence.
No, of course, not, Bethany said as she towered over Varlans supine form. She 
looked uncomfortable, but her current physical condition did not allow her to 
sink to the carpet to rest. Had she done so, she probably could not have gotten 
up again.
Are you uncomfortable? Varlan asked.
 No more so than any other pregnant woman, Bethany replied with a laugh, 
which is to say yes.
It seems to me that laying eggs is more efficient, Varlan answered seriously. 
That, at least, was the way her species reproduced.
You wont get any argument from me. I am afraid that I will have to interrupt 
your leisure, however. We have a delegation of xenologists from Earth who would 
like to meet you. Im afraid there was some sort of mix-up with the schedule. 
They are here now.
Varlan did not groan. That was not the way her kind expressed exasperation. 
Instead, her ears went momentarily flat against her elliptical skull and her 
snout pitched perceptibly down, both gestures that Bethany had long since 
learned to read.
I know. I would rather not go through another round of inane questions either. 
Just remember, that which cannot be cured
 must be endured, Varlan finished the surprisingly Ryall-like thought. She 
hoisted herself to her feet and stretched her tail out to its full length. Let 
us go meet the gentle scientists from Earth.
#
Oh my, when is it due? the white-haired woman who was the sole inhabitant of 
the conference room asked as they entered. In addition to a long table with the 
chairs all on one side, the room contained a raised dais on which a carpet of 
Altan river rusheswashad been spread for Varlans use.
 Ithadbeenthelatterthatthenewcomerhadbeeninspectingastheyentered.
Sometime between any moment now to three weeks from yesterday.
I certainly hope we can complete our business before the ambulance hauls you 
away. Boy or girl?
A little boy. He has his fathers hair and my eyes and will be quite a little 
hellion if the geneticists have any clue as to what they are talking about.
I had a little boy a long time ago, the woman said, her voice catching a bit. 
You will have your hands full for a few years.
How old is your son now? Bethany asked.
He would have been 43 this month had he lived. He was killed at the Battle of 
Archernar.
Oh, Im so sorry.
No need to be. It has been more than a decade since his ship took a Ryall 
torpedo, and I am far from the only mother who has lost a son in this war. By 
the way, I am Doctor Olivia Southington, Department of Xenology, University of 
Buenos Aires.
Bethany took her extended hand. Im Bethany Drake, and this is Varlan of the 
Scented Waters.
Yes. Varlan is the first Ryall I have seen close up  alive. We have had a few 
corpses to study, of course. Oh, pardon me. That comment must have seemed 
incredibly callous.
Varlan, who had been studying the interchange between the monster females the 
human women, she automatically corrected herself turned a curious eye toward 
this latest in a long line of interrogators.
I do not understand, Doctor Southington, she said in nearly flawless standard, 
save for the slight hiss her vocal apparatus gave to the sibilants.
I forgot that I was in the presence of one of your race, Varlan. It is impolite 
of me to speak so callously of your dead.
My race does not put the same emphasis on the dead as does yours, Doctor, 
Varlan replied. We are more interested in the living and especially the 
hatchlings.
Yes, I have read that. In fact, that is one of the reasons I have come all this 
way. I would like to understand more about your species beliefs and customs, 
especially from the viewpoint of a member of your managerial caste.
I will, of course, place myself at your service, the Ryall responded smoothly. 
Since her capture, she had learned to imitate human verbal customs, even if she 
did not always understand them.
Dont monopolize the poor beastie, Olivia, a male voice said from behind them. 
Varlan turned to look. A small, dark-haired man had entered the room, followed 
by a younger female  probably an administrative assistant, to judge from her 
manner as she followed the newcomer into the room.
Bethany Drake. Varlan of the Scented Waters. May I introduce Jorge Santiago, my 
colleague, and Seorita Consuela Aragon, our assistant?
Santiago. Seorita Aragon, Bethany replied as she presented her hand first to 
the man, who kissed it, and then to the young woman, who shook it in the usual 
manner.
Seor Santiago, Seorita Aragon, Varlan parroted.
Santiago put his hands on his hips and stared frankly. My, you are a polite 
one. How long since you were captured?
Four of your years.
How do you like it here?
How would you like to be held captive by your species enemies? Varlan 
responded smoothly.
What? Santiago sputtered, then laughed. Why, I dont suppose I would like it 
at all.
Then we agree.
Excuse me, Bethany said, but what is it we can do for you Seor Santiago, Dr. 
Southington?
We have come to interrogate your prisoner.
Guest, Bethany warned sharply.
Fine, guest. We understand you have gotten farther with Varlan than any of the 
professional interrogators have gotten with the warrior caste prisoners that 
they hold.
It depends on what you mean by farther. Frankly, Varlan and I come closer to 
understanding one another than most people thought was possible for intelligent 
beings of divergent species. Isnt that right, Varlan?
Yes, Bethany. We have an understanding that even I would not have thought 
possible before meeting you. Sensing Bethanys irritation with the brusque 
Santiago, Varlan intentionally did not say before I was captured.
That is excellent, Olivia Southington replied, also sensing the tension and 
stepping deftly in to dissipate it. Jorge and I have made it a point to study 
Ryall myths as a way to better understand them. I am afraid that we have gotten 
as far as we can from merely reviewing interrogation reports. We need to talk to 
someone who is intimately familiar with those myths, someone who actually 
believes them and knows their cultural context. And since so many ships were 
coming this way to support the invasion, well we thought we would drop by to see 
Varlan in the flesh.
We will, of course, do everything we can to help you. Is there any myth in 
particular that you would like to explore?
One in particular. We would like to understand better about the Swift Eaters.
#
One hundred and fifty light-years from Alta, at a point where the Evil Star was 
a glowing gas cloud in the sky, another Ryall was frustrated. Periskay, of the 
Clan of the Distant Mountains in the Mist, was no captive, except of his 
assigned duty. An ex-student of Dolki, the master engineer-philosopher of the 
Ryall race, Periskay had been assigned to investigate the destruction of the 
mineral extraction facility on Corlis. What at first seemed a massive industrial 
accident was beginning to take on all of the mystical properties of the species 
legends from the dim days before written history. Even with the facility wiped 
from the face of Corlis by a racing wall of water, there should have been clues 
to the cause of the disaster. Yet, Periskay was faced with a dearth of useable 
information.
The mystery began in an ordinary enough fashion. Those whose job it was to keep 
starships on schedule reported that an ore carrier namedSpace Swimmer was 
overdue. Since Eulysta was a cul-de-sac system, the only place where a ship 
could put in was at the agricultural world that orbited Carratyl.
A ship sent to search forSpace Swimmer had not found it in the Carratyl system, 
and had proceeded to Eulysta to see if it was still in orbit about Corlis. There 
they had found the mineral extraction facility in ruins, its workforce missing, 
and no sign of the ore carrier.
While terrible, the destruction of industrial facilities was not unknown in the 
history of The Race. Therefore, to learn the cause, Those Who Rule had 
dispatched an expedition to Corlis. Periskay, although still young and 
relatively new to his profession, was assigned to lead the inquiry.
The expedition had been ready to depart Darthan when word came that a team of 
natural philosophers would accompany them. These thinkers were not interested in 
the destruction of a far-off industrial facility. They were going to Eulysta to 
send a small experimental ship into the heart of the supernova remnant.
Being of a more practical mind than the philosophers, Periskay could not see 
what purpose their expedition served. However, the Collection of Thinkers was 
providing half the fuel his ship would be using during the voyage, giving him an 
incentive to aid the philosophers in their study.
When he arrived at Corlis, Periskay offloaded the philosophers in orbit and 
landed his ship near the destroyed mineral extraction facility. He and his 
workers began probing the destruction, looking for some evidence of the cause.
Despite their extensive excavation efforts, they found no bodies. Presumably, 
the manager of the facility, one Varlan, and all of her workers had perished in 
the flood. Yet, if this were so, where were their corpses? When the upstream dam 
broke, the duty crew must have been working in the tunnels. If so, they should 
still be there, yet Periskays workers found none of them.
Pondering the problem, he wondered if the missing workers were associated with 
the missing ore carrier. Perhaps it had rescued the survivors of the disaster 
and then been lost en route back to the home stars.
While Periskay pondered his problem, the philosophers studying the Evil Star 
finished their preliminaries and plunged through the stargate into its heart. 
Periskay received their message announcing their departure, and did not think of 
them again until he realized that they, like the ore carrier, were overdue.
#
Chapter 3
&nbsp;
The viewscreen aboard the Altan Space Navy BlastshipConqueror II was ablaze with 
ghostly fire. The fire was produced when energetic particles slammed into the 
ships anti-radiation shielding. The anti-rad shield absorbed both charged 
particle and high-energy electromagnetic radiation  rays ranging from X- to 
gamma  as they streamedin lethal doses away from the madly spinning neutron 
star at the center of the nebulain lethal doses. Once absorbed, the energy was 
reradiated in the visible spectrum in scintillating sheets of multi-chromatic 
luminescence. Within the high-energy environment of the Antares Nebula, the 
human fleet glowed like a string of tiny iridescent soap bubbles adrift in a 
hellish sea.
It had been a tension-filled week sinceConqueror II and her consorts had entered 
the maelstrom. One instant they had hovered amid the blackness of space with the 
yellow-white globe of Napier far below them. The next, they were deep in the 
electric glow of the nebulas gas and dust, with the tiny dynamo of the Antares 
neutron star a distant eye-searing speck. In the telescopes,the tiny star was 
wracked by a violent explosion every minute or so. White-hot plasma arced into 
the sky, only to be wrenched back to the glowing surface before the geysers of 
fire had a chance to properly form, pulled down by the stars rapidly rotating 
magnetic field.
The Antares/Napier foldpoint lay near its pre-nova position high above the 
neutron star. Their destination was the Antares/Eulysta foldpoint, only 200 
million kilometers distant. In any normal system, they would have accelerated 
into a flat, hyperbolic orbit and made straight for it. Unfortunately, nothing 
was that simple in the hell of radiations that made up the interior of the 
nebula. With the neutron star pumping out multi-gigawatts of power each second, 
it was dangerous to approach to within even 700 million kilometers. Despite the 
fact that it was invisible, every ships astrogator was wary of the imaginary 
curved surface that marked the outer boundary of the death zone, the volume 
surrounding the neutron star within which their anti-radiation shielding would 
be of as little protection as a layer of tissue paper.
SoConqueror and the rest of the first wave performed a maneuver that was, in 
effect, a giant skidding turn around the nebulas periphery as they approached 
their jump-off point. Even so, they were lucky. The fleets coming through the 
Antares/Goddard foldpoint would have to circle nearly halfway around the star to 
reach the back door into Ryall space.
That the maneuver was necessary to stay alive did nothing to calm Richards 
nerves. Drake was new to fleet command and as Admiral Belton had intimated, he 
was not sure that he liked it. Conqueror IIwas the invasion fleets flagship. 
Like every flagship since the Greeks beat the Persians at Salamis, she housed 
two separate command entities. A senior grade captain named Pelham Carter 
commandedConqueror II . He and Drake had served together twice previously  once 
aboardDiscovery , where Carter had been Drakes second officer, and before that, 
in the DestroyerParthenon, where both of them had been junior officers together.
It was Carters job to fly and fight the big blastship, leaving strategy to the 
admiral and his staff. To help him keep watch over the invasion as a whole, 
Drake commanded nearly a hundred officers and ratings. These manned the Fleet 
Operations Center and fed the admiral the information he needed to see the 
overall shape of the battle. The FOC (spacers learned not to snicker at the 
acronym twice) might as easily have been aboard any of the invasion fleets 
blastships; and, in fact, could be transferred in the event of an emergency. As 
far as Drake was concerned,Conqueror was just one more glowing icon on his 
situation display, to be ordered where it would do the most good in battle.
The problem with being an admiral, he had discovered, was that his subordinates 
were entirely too efficient. They did their jobs without direction and left very 
little for him to decide. He knew that would change come first contact with the 
Ryall, but for now, he was at loose ends. After 160 hours inside the maelstrom, 
he was ready to climb the bulkheads. Since that would have been unseemly for an 
admiral, he compromised by sitting in his acceleration chair and pretending to 
look bored.
Anything yet, Mr. Carey? he asked the communicator seated at the console to 
his right. One of the perquisites of command was an armor-glass aerie high above 
the Fleet Operations Center, a private perch from which he could command in 
quiet solitude. Drake shuddered at the thought, preferring the bustling main 
deck of the fleet center, surrounded by his staff. The battle console he 
occupied was normally his chief-of-staffs station, but Commander Parkinson was 
currently assigned to the mid-watch, giving his admiral the welcome opportunity 
to get down amid the action.
 No, sir. No contact with Guard Force Antares. The range is still a little long 
for our lasers to penetrate this soup. They are no doubt tracking us with their 
specialized detectors and will contact us as soon as they can.
Very well, Drake replied. He wanted to say more, but refrained lest he betray 
his impatience. Instead, he let his eyes scan the FOC. The change in just eight 
weeks was striking. When they left Altan orbit, fully one-quarter of the 
consoles had been inoperative, many with wire bundles hanging out of maintenance 
panels, and others with nothing on their screens but multicolored static. The 
premature departure had meant a lot of work while underway, but they had finally 
gotten the big cylinder with its oversize outrigger pods ready for combat
Conqueror IIand her brood, the century-old battle cruisersDiscovery,Dagger , 
andDreadnought, along with the dozens of newer ships that had come out of the 
orbital shipyards over the past three years, had departed Alta immediately 
following the report that the Ryall had penetrated the nebula.
Norhadtheybeenwere they alone.
All over human space, the warning message that the Ryall were in the nebula had 
caused more than a thousand ships to hurriedly load personnel, ammunition, and 
consumables before shaping hyperbolic orbits for the nearest foldpoint. 
Blastships, cruisers, destroyers, frigates, speeders, high acceleration scouts, 
and dozens of more specialized craft streamed toward the systems around Antares. 
Ships from Sol and worlds on the eastern edge of human space gathered in the 
Goddard System, while the colony worlds of Alta and Sandar sent their fleets via 
Napier and New Providence. Other fleets rendezvoused in theGrundlestar, Faraway, 
Klamath and Braxton systems. Each would enter the nebula via one of the pre-nova 
foldpoints, all of which still existed inside the plasma maelstrom. There they 
would rendezvous at Antares seventh foldpoint, the new one that led into Ryall 
space through the back door.
Nor had the fleets of warships been alone. Accompanying the combatants were 
their supporting auxiliaries: tankers, freighters, repair craft, and lighters. 
Had anyone been able to track the movement of so many ships, they would have 
discovered that the Antares nebula was fast becoming the center of human naval 
power. Eight different task forces would take part in the invasion.
Nor were they the last vessels that would pass through the nebula en route to 
Spica.
Following the warships and their supply train were the largest mobile weapons 
ever constructed by men. In systems all over human space, heavy orbital 
fortresses abandoned their guard stations and began to follow their more 
maneuverable brethren. It would take months for the ponderous fortresses to 
reach Spica, but when they did, the balance of power within the Ryall Hegemony 
would shift in the direction of humanity. That, at least, was the plan. Reality 
might conspire to present humankind with an altogether different plan, of 
course, but that was the nature of war.
 Message coming through now, Admiral, Spacer-First Carey reported. Its a 
data transmission, no voice. From: Captain Virgil Tennyson, Commander, Guard 
Force Antares. To: Admiral Richard Drake, Commander, Task Force Spica. Message 
Begins: Welcome to Hell, Admiral. Good to see you brought so many friends. 
Message Ends. Tennyson.
Send this, Mr. Carey. Glad to be in Hell with you, Commander. You havent, by 
any chance, seen a foldpoint around here?
#
Good to speak face-to-face, Admiral, Captain Tennyson said from the depths of 
one of Drakes command screens two hours later. The picture was speckled with 
multicolored interference, and the sound had a tendency to fade out every few 
seconds, but the words carried with them an undertone of relief. The Terrestrial 
Space Navy commander was a young man of approximately 30 standard years. Only 
his eyes were old, a common malady among those who had seen too much of war.
 And you, Captain. Whats the lizard situation?
Quiet, sir. Nothing has appeared in the foldpoint since we dispatched our 
intruder to the nether reaches. We think it may have been a research ship.
Why do you think that?
It was small and unarmed, sir. We dont think they saw us, or our torpedo, 
before we dispatched them.
Any idea of the Ryall presence on the other side of the foldpoint?
None, sir. We assumed they were observing the other side, either waiting for 
their missing ship to reappear, or else trying to determine what went wrong. If 
we had sent a scout through, Im afraid we would have been spotted and lost the 
element of surprise.
Glad you have a head on your shoulders, Captain.
On their first visit to the nebula, they had blundered into Eulysta while 
searching for an alternate route to human space. To keep their presence secret, 
they had first captured, and then destroyed, the mining facility on Corlis.
What preyed on Drakes mind was the possibility that they had missed something. 
One of the mines workerscould have gotten away. Their cleanup campaign might 
have missed a human boot print or a ration wrapper. All it would take was the 
discovery of one artifact of identifiably human origin on Corlis and the Ryall 
high command would fill the Eulysta System with warships. Even now, the 
Eulysta/Antares foldpoint could be the center of a fleet of blastships, each 
with weapons focused, ready to vaporize the first human ship to materialize 
within the interstellar portal.
If that were the case, the surprise they were counting on would be on them.
As Admiral Belton had remarked during one of their planning sessions, Task Force 
Spicas mission wasembarkedonwasan interstellar version of the ancient Triple 
Crown of horse racing. Eulysta was the first prize. WhilecCapturing it would not 
guarantee the success of the invasion,but failing todo socaptureit would doom 
their plans. NotTrue,thatcapturingEulystadidnothavehada strategicvaluebenefit in 
its own right. Possession of the system and its two foldpoints would push the 
Ryallback one more systemback from human space. It would also wreak havoc with 
the Ryall war effort for however long it took to fortify Carratyl, the next 
system in from Eulysta.
However, the capture of a single outlying star system would be a poor 
consolation prize if that were all they accomplished. Taking Eulysta and forcing 
the enemy to shift their fleet to defend Carratyl would not starve the Ryall 
economy into submission. The war would go on for year after interminable year, 
with the Ryall again pressing into human space through thetwoother foldspace 
connections between the two realms..
Have your sensors detected any of our follow-on forces, Tennyson?
Yes, sir. In addition to your own group,sir, sensors are tracking 
three-oh-seven other vessels within the nebula,sir. Most are on the long orbit 
from the opposite side foldpoints, with more appearing every day. By the time 
you take control of Eulysta, we should have quite a traffic jam hereabouts.
 Glad to hear it. I am sure we will need the company about then. Astrogator, 
what is our ETA?
The latter comment was addressed to Lieutenant Olivia Parker, at the navplot 
station slaved to the ships official navplot on the bridge. Women aboard 
warships were an oddity in the Altan Space Navy, although becoming less so with 
each new graduating class from the space training academies. Like the rest of 
humanitys worlds, the war with the Ryall had forced Alta to commit its full 
resources to the battle, despite the colony worlds long tradition against 
sending women into danger. Mostly, Drake thought that was a good thing, although 
he had a ways to go before he became as blas as the terrestrial 
navyconcerningwasabout women in battle.
The fleet will cross the foldpoint boundary in 47 minutes, sir.
Very well. We will establish Zero Hour for 13:00. Tennyson, pass the word. We 
go in Drake glanced a the chronometer display in the lower right corner of his 
screen,  218 minutes from now.
Yes, sir! Wish I were going along with you.
Id be pleased to have you with us, Captain. However, your job is here. If 
anything goes wrong, we are going to need your guard force to stop any 
counterattack through the foldpoint.
Understood, sir. They also serve who only sit and wait with their thumbs up 
their
Drake smiled. He understood the Guard Force officers wistful tone. After more 
than a century of war, this was to be the last major offensive. Despite the 
danger, there had been fierce competition among officers to take part in the 
operation.
. 
SomeofthecompetitionshadbeenasfiercelycontestedasDrakesownpositioninoperationalcommandoftheinvasion.
That they do, Captain. Dont worry, there will be more than enough fighting for 
everyone before this is over.
Too, true, Admiral. As I said, welcome to Hell. I will pass your orders to the 
rest of the fleet. They will be ready. Guard Force Antares, out.
Task Force Spica, out.
#
Attention All Hands. Stand by for foldspace transition. All departments report 
readiness to jump.
The echo of the jump announcement had barely died away when reports began 
flooding in from every compartment of the ship. Drake was unsurprised. Pelham 
Carter ran a taut ship. All his department heads had been reporting their 
readiness to jump for three days now.
Confident thatConqueror was ready, he listened over the fleetcom channels to the 
units of the Terrestrial Space Navy that had accompanied him from Napier. 
Admiral Beltons people prepared for jump with a professionalism that betrayed 
decades of experience at war. The communications traffic was gratifying in its 
brevity. Not that communications exchanges were not taking place. 
Multi-gigabytes per second of data passed between the shipboard computers that 
were themselves preparing for battle.
WhenConqueror II engaged the Ryall, its computers would largely control the 
ships offensive armament. Artificial brains would plot enemy courses, target 
weapons, fire at the optimum moment, and evade torpedo and missile fire 
inevitably sent their way. Computers would assess battle damage, control 
airtight doors and hatches, and direct damage control teams to the most 
critically wounded areas of the ship. They would communicate with the other 
ships of the fleet over secure comm links, coordinatingConqueror s actions with 
those of her sisters in the battle fleet.
Should a ship be holed and its crew killed, the computers would fight on as long 
as their power held out. That wasessentially what had happened toConqueror s 
namesake at the Second Battle of Klamath. Even after multiple hits extinguished 
the lives of many of its crew and forced the survivors into life pods,TSNS 
Conqueror I fought on. The big blastship fought its way to the local foldpoint, 
jumped, and, finding itself in the heart of a supernova remnant, sought another 
foldpoint to escape the maelstrom. That second foldpoint had led to the Napier 
System, and a third to Valeria.
Two minutes to initial jump and counting. All ships, report status.
The traditional command was unnecessary. Richard could see the status of the ten 
small vessels that would make up humanitys vanguardinto the Eulysta system on 
his command screen. Surrounding the green blips were another 120 yellow blips 
that represented the ships that would cross over into Ryall space as soon as 
they received the All Clear. Surrounding everything were the dim red outlines of 
the foldpoint and the dozen magenta markers that showed the ships of Guard Force 
Antares.
The initial invasion force included the ten heavily armed, high-acceleration 
speeders ofMercury Forces Alpha Squadron. The squadron would jump as a group 
into the unknown on the other side of the foldpoint. If they found the foldpoint 
unguarded, nine of the ten would immediately began accelerating toward Eulystas 
second foldpoint, the one leading to the agricultural system of Carratyl. The 
remaining speeder in the formation would jump back to the nebula to report to 
the fleet, before returning to Eulysta and beginning a long stern chase to catch 
its fellows.
If the speeders found enemy craft in the vicinity of the foldpoint, but not in 
overwhelming force, then Alpha Squadron would engage and hold the foldpoint long 
enough for Drake to bring up the rest of the Task Force Spica. If the Ryall 
blocking force proved overwhelming, then the speeders would return to the nebula 
as quickly as they could charge their jump engines. Seeing the survivors of 
Alpha Squadron suddenly reappear on his side of the foldpoint would be Drakes 
signal to deploy his fleet to repel a Ryall invasion of the nebula.
The ships ofMercury Force were specially built and crewed for this one purpose. 
Their crews were young, average age 22, and in superb physical condition. They 
had to be. Most of the journey would take place at up to ten gravities, and even 
submerged in liquid-filled acceleration tanks,thesuch stresswould take itstakesa 
toll on the human body. Itwouldalsobewas hard, also,on the engines. Like 
cartridges in an old-fashioned chemical firearm, their cross-system dash would 
use up the speeders propulsion systems. They would need overhauling before they 
could fight again.
Drakes biggest worry was that the ten small ships would be destroyed before 
they could report. He had nightmares of sending wave after wave of scouts 
through the foldpoint, and then waiting endlessly for their return.
One minute to jump.
Are your people ready, Captain Parsons? he asked the too-young face on one of 
his screens.
 
Lieutenant (Acting Captain) Victor Parsons looked out at him and nodded eagerly. 
His lips did not move. With every cavity in his body filled 
withsincetheoxygenated fluidto allow him to withstand the coming 
acceleration,speech was impossible.  
withwhichhehadfilledhislungsinpreparationforprolongedaccelerationpreventedhisvocalchordsfromvibrating. 
Nevertheless, a computer generated voice replied, Ready to stomp some Ryall 
tail, sir.
Just make sure your designated scout jumps back here the nanosecond his engines 
are charged. I dont relish sitting here in the dark without knowing what faces 
me any longer than I have to.
Understood, Admiral.
Good luck, Captain. Give them hell!
Hell it is, sir. Mercury Asgard, out.
Fleet Operations Center out.
Ten nine eight The old chill raced up Richards spine as the recorded 
countdown echoed through the compartment. He consciously controlled his 
breathing as the numbers wound down to the last few seconds. Three two one 
jump!
On the screen, ten small green blips winked out as more than a hundred yellow 
ones changed to emerald.
Start the two minute clock, Mr. Carey. Send orders to the fleet. All ships, 
prepare for foldspace transition.
#
 
Chapter 4
&nbsp;
Bethany Drake was worried. That was to be expected with her husband and half the 
male population of Alta off invading an alien empire. Even knowing that the 
battle would secure the future safety of the human race did not ease her fear. 
Nor did it help that she was pregnant.
Like most little girls, the subject of babieshad always fascinated her. She and 
her friends had listened intently to the stories of older women as they spoke of 
the emotional storms brought on by the massive jolt of estrogen that accompanies 
the gravid state. The stories had not prepared her for the reality. It was 
disconcerting to be happy one moment, and then, for no apparent reason, to be 
overcome with sorrow. Knowing that the reaction was involuntary and unrelated to 
her true mental state did nothing to stop the tears as they streamed down her 
cheeks, sometimes for hours. Nor was the depression the worst of it. Her powers 
of concentration, always strong, were in tatters.
Even her normal, pre-blimp self, would have found the constant worry about her 
husband distracting. In her current condition, the natural concern was magnified 
until it shut out every other thought. She was lucky if she could focus on her 
work for ten minutes at a time before the cold fog of dread rolled out of the 
depths to grab hold of her consciousness like a clammy hand. When she was not 
worrying about Richard, she worried about what her mental state was doing to her 
baby.
Nonsense, Dr. Fontain, the grandmotherly woman who watched over her pregnancy, 
said when Bethany mentioned her concern. Do you think you are the first anxious 
mother in the history of the whole human race? Mostly what you are feeling is a 
byproduct of hormonal releases that are as natural as breathing. If babies were 
sensitive to mothers mood swings, the species would have died out millennia 
ago. According to this mornings scans, your baby is developing optimally. If 
anything, hes farther along than most at this stage.
The doctors words had reassured Bethany for about fifteen minutes before she 
fell to brooding again. Nor were her personal problems all she had to brood 
about.
The three years since she and Richard had returned from Earth had been hectic 
ones. She had expected her husband to be busy with his command, but she had not 
realizedhow busy. He often worked 40 hours straight at the Admiralty, coming 
home too tired to do anything but fall facedown on the bed while still in his 
uniform. Then there were the trips to orbit, sometimes lasting for weeks, and 
the journeys to other star systems through the nebula to coordinate details of 
the invasion. They had seen very little of one another, although their reunions 
had often been worth the separation. One such, in fact, was the reason why her 
back ached all of the time these days.
She had been busy herself, doing her part to aid humanity against the alien 
enemy. Except that she had trouble thinking of the Ryall as the enemy. She 
thought of them as Varlans cousins, and dreamed of the day when she would 
understand them well enough to end this stupid war.
ThecConventional wisdom among her colleaguesheldwas that the xenophobia of the 
Ryall was an evolutionary adaptation, something bred into their very genes. Most 
xenologistsTheexpertsmaintained that Ryall history taught themthat two species 
could never coexist peacefully. Indeed, it had,taught them so well that they 
remembered the lesson in their very chromosomes.
The problem with that thinking was that it led inevitably to a conclusion 
Bethany refused to contemplate. What does one do if confronted by an entire race 
of mad dogs, all foaming at the mouth from rabies (a disease still very much a 
part of human folklore though it was 300 years extinct)? The only sensible 
answer was to exterminate them.
Before her current career as Ryall Scholar, Bethany had been a comparative 
historian. She had observed in her studies that extermination had seemed the 
answer far too often in history. The only good Indian is a dead Indian, came 
immediately to mind. Despite hot rhetoric by one generation, subsequent 
generations always found a way to live together. Surely, a way could be found 
for Ryall and human to live in peace. The Ryall were intelligent beings, and 
intelligence trumps instincts.
Animals follow their genetic programming. Stimulate them the same way and you 
will always get the same response. Sapient beings, on the other hand, can choose 
their response. They have the power to short-circuit their natural inclinations 
 if only they choose to use it.
Could the Ryall control their instincts? That was what Bethany hoped to 
determine through her studies of Varlan. So far, her results had been mixed. 
Whenever shehad tried to get Varlan to thinking how their two species might 
cooperate, the Ryall had considered the concept for a day or two,thenbuthad 
reverted to her doctrinaire position that all thinking beings were adversaries.
There had to be a better way, and Bethany Drake, aching back and all, was 
determined to find it.
If only the sobbing would go away and leave her with time to think
#
I suppose I never thought of your people living in cities, Consuela Aragon 
said to Varlan of the Scented Waters. The five of them, Varlan, Jorge Santiago, 
Olivia Southington, Consuela, and Bethany were all in the room where they had 
first met. Varlan was perched on the bed of rushes, and the four humans had 
pulled their chairs into a semicircle around her. Jorge Santiago had been 
quizzing Varlan about Ryall customs for two hours, and sensing that the alien 
was becoming irritable, Consuela had seized on one of Varlans idle comments to 
divert the subject.
Why not? Varlan asked. We build starships, why not cities?
Well, you are amphibians. What need have you for houses and communal structures 
when you have your lagoons in which to frolic? Surely you cant be trying to 
keep the rain off.
How many lagoons do you suppose there are on any given world, Consuela?
I suppose not enough.
Not nearly enough. True, we prefer to live near the water and our domiciles 
incorporate elements of water, unlike those you humans build  except for 
certain neighborhoods in the Homeport Hills, Varlan said with a touch of what 
she hoped was human humor. If there is a nearby body of water, we use canals in 
place of streets. If not, we build roads the same as you. As for the need for 
roofs, they are more to keep the sun off than the rain. One of my species 
greatest pleasures is to lie in the rain with our tongues out. The raindrops are 
aerated with oxygen, giving them an especially sweet taste.
Bethany, who had grown tired of Jorge Santiagos interminable droning, and even 
more tired of sitting on the hard chair, wobbled to her feet to allow blood to 
circulate once more in her lower extremities. As she did so, she felt a familiar 
pain in her abdomen. She gasped as she struggled to stand.
Is something wrong, Seora Drake? Consuela asked.
Teetering over her chair, Bethany grimaced. Nothing wrong. It was just a minor 
contraction. Ive been having them sporadically for the past few days.
Perhaps you should sit down.
Im tired of sitting. Ill stand for awhile.
Then hold onto the chair to steady yourself, Olivia Southington said. You 
dont want to fall in your condition. Trust me, I know.
Getting back on the subject at hand, Santiago interrupted, returning to the 
line of questioning that had previously elicited signs of agitation from Varlan. 
I dont understand why you people believe the Tale of the Swift Eaters is 
anything more than a fable.
The Swifts were real, Varlan replied. We have their skeletons in our 
museums.
I dont doubt it, Santiago agreed. Still, the basic story does not make 
sense. There is the time factor, for instance.
Explain, Varlan said sharply.
Look, let me tell the story as your military caste usually relates it. Okay?
Varlan bobbed her long neck, which produced a passable version of a human nod.
The story told by females to their young is that once the Ryall were a race of 
happy fisher folk who lived in the estuaries and river mouths of Darthan, the 
home world. After many generations of idyllic existence, there appeared in the 
sky a new star. This star soon brightened to rival the three moons when they 
were full. It is said that one could godereln hunting by the light because it 
drew the little beasts to the surface.
Shortly after the Evil Star made its appearance, a great plague was visited 
upon The Race. Individuals began to grow sick and die. Their scales turned 
yellow, they vomited whatever they ate, and soon, they lay down and stopped 
breathing. That seasons crop of hatchlings was not immune. Many of the eggs did 
not hatch, and those that did produced grotesquely misshapen young. This went on 
for many thousands of years, with each generation of Ryall plagued by mutations. 
Nor were the birth defects the only cost to The Race, for the Evil Star also 
brought the Swift Eaters.
The Eaters were mindless predators that inhabited deeper waters of the World 
Sea. Shortly after the Evil Star appeared in the sky, the predators began 
raiding Ryall fishing villages and hatching grounds. They were fast and vicious, 
and over the generations, developed sufficient cunning that they drove the Ryall 
out of the sea. Your people retreated to the interiors of islands and the edges 
of continents, where you built villages on the land.
As millennia passed, the Ryall became more intelligent. So, too, did the Swift 
Eaters. With your increase in intelligence, you began to hunt the Swifts just as 
they hunted you. At first, your hunters intended only to drive them from 
hatching grounds and away from the river mouths where you still harvested 
thedereln . You hunted them in the shallows, and slowly, because they were 
intelligent themselves, they learned to avoid the places where Ryall lived. 
Then, after a struggle that raged for generations, you began to hunt them in the 
deep.
No longer were your ancestors content to drive off the occasional Swift 
marauder. Now the hunters went aftertheir hatching grounds. You discovered the 
places where theylay their eggs and you methodically destroyed them. You sowed 
the waters with organic poisons to make the Swifts sicken and die. You learned 
about biology and cultivated a parasite that only lived on Swift Eaters.
Eventually, your ancestors won their struggle with these monsters of the deep. 
One day they were no more.  Despite a Darthan-wide search, the victorious 
hunters could find none. Your species, made vastly more intelligent by the 
rivalry, was the master of Darthan.
Yet, in victory, you had been changed. No longer were you a simple fisher 
people. Now you were farmers, and smelters, and craftsmen  all trades of the 
land villages. You were fertile and multiplied, discovered agriculture, and 
built cities. Then, when the time came, you cast your eyes to the stars and left 
Darthan to seek other worlds to colonize.
Yet, despite your new sophistication, you never forgot the lessons of the 
Swifts. What you had learned was that a single world was too small a place for 
two intelligent species. When two sentient races occupy the same territory, they 
must ultimately compete until one is dead. It is a lesson your race learned 
well, and one that you have exported to the stars. It is the lesson that caused 
you to react instinctively to destroy the first human starship you encountered, 
and the driving force behind this century-old war of ours.
You Ryall believe that this war cannot end until one of our species is extinct. 
You believe it not because that is what you have been taught, but rather, 
because it is in the basic genetic coding with which you emerged from the egg.
It is to be war to the death between your species and mine, because that is the 
way of the universe.
#
Jorge Santiago paused for breath and gazed at the obsidian eyes that were 
regarding him. That is the Legend of the Swift Eaters, is it not?
It is, Varlan agreed. You did a surprisingly good job of capturing the lyric 
poetry of the epic.
For an alien, you mean.
Yes, for an alien.
Santiago smiled, genuinely pleased. Thank you for the compliment. I have 
studied this tale in your own language and although my species poetic sense is 
not the same as yours, I believe that I am alert to many of the nuances imbedded 
in the words. It is this legend of yours that brought Olivia, Consuela, and me 
to see you, and it is this about which I would like to make some observations.
Please do.
Are you sure that I will not offend you? I assure you that is not my intent. 
However, among humans, questions about deeply held beliefs often trigger a 
violent reaction. I have no desire to do that to you.
Varlan thought about it for a long time, then nodded. I understand the 
concept. Since I have been among you humans, I have had to expand my own 
viewpoint about many things. Ask your questions. I will not take offense.
Thank you. My first question, then, is how you maintain this story is true when 
it is rife with internal inconsistencies?
I do not understand.
Just look at it logically. How can you believe what I have just recounted 
really happened?
Varlans tongue flicked into view in a display of some alien emotion, and then 
she turned her head sideways to fix the human male with one obsidian eye and 
asked, Are you religious, Seor Santiago?
Certainly.
Of the sect called Catholic?
Yes.
Then I must ask you how you can believe in your religion when it has so many 
obvious logical inconsistencies. Take the matter of the Virgin, for instance. 
Was the husband of this female so nave that he believed that she was giving 
birth without first having been impregnated?
Bethany, who had explained human religious beliefs to Varlan several months 
earlier, nearly choked as she suppressed a laugh. Apparently, the Ryalls jab 
had hit its mark, because Jorge Santiago was turning red. Finally, he got 
himself under control.
Touch, he responded. Perhaps we can discuss the Miracle of the Virgin Birth 
at some other time. However, the subject was the timeline of the Swift Eater 
legend.
What of it?
Your story is that Ryall began to die of radiation poisoning and suffered a 
high rate of mutation over a period of thousands of years because of a nearby 
supernova, the so-called Evil Star.
Yes.
And that these same radiations caused your race to evolve at a furious pace, 
and also forced the evolution of a mindless predator called the Swift Eaters, 
until they too had evolved intelligence.
Yes, Jorge. That is true.
But the timescales, Varlan. How can you possibly explain the timescales?
I still do not understand.
Supernovas last for a few months or years at most. After that, they may flood a 
nearby star system with radiation for a few centuries. It isnt enough time to 
generate the effects that the legend ascribe to it, and even if it were, how did 
the early Ryall correlate the new light in the sky with the radiation sickness 
and mutations? Those would have begun to appear years after the light in the sky 
had dimmed. Without a scientific understanding of the phenomenon, it is more 
likely that the early Ryall would have viewed the two events as unrelated.
Bethany, whose feet were now hurting, wondered if Jorge Santiago knew what he 
was talking about. She remembered the night back in Homeport when Antares 
dawnlight had first burst across the countryside. It had been the light of an 
electric spark, a searing blue-white point in the sky that illuminated forests 
and caused long, inky shadows to grow from the base of every tree. The scene had 
been surreal, so much so that she and her uncle had stayed up until Antares set 
just before dawn, marveling at the change in Altas night sky.
She remembered thinking at the time that the light in the sky was an omen of 
things to come. Little had she known just how much of an omen. It was because of 
thatsudden electric spark in the firmament that shehad met her future husband, 
and the life of Alta was transformed from one of peace to the never-ending 
struggle of war.
That is the way it happened, Jorge, Varlan responded, a bit stubbornly, 
Bethany thought.
I am not doubting your sincerity, Varlan, merely the logic of your story. It 
takes time for a new species to come about, even with forced evolution caused by 
a high mutation rate. It must have taken a thousand generations at least before 
the intelligence quotient of your race began to increase.
As for the Swifts, they were beasts of deep water, which meant that they were 
well shielded from the radiations in the sky. True, they laid their eggs in the 
shallows where they could get sunlight. Still, radiations from the sky could not 
possibly have been the initiating cause for their sudden increase in 
intelligence.
What was, then?
Why, I believe it must have been their competition with you Ryall.
Youd better explain, Jorge, Olivia Southington said. She had been watching 
Varlan intently the whole time the Ryall had been contending with Santiago.
Its a fairly common pattern among species. Predator and prey are locked into a 
sort of an evolutionary race. It happened among the hunting cats and horses on 
Earth. As we study their histories, we find that both species initially started 
out small  the horse, for instance, was about the size of a medium dog. You 
understand these references, do you not?
Varlan nodded. I have had much time to study your people and culture, Jorge. I 
have seen pictures of all of the animals you are describing, and I have met 
several dogs. There is something about my smell that they do not like.
Well, through the millennia, both cats and horses began to grow longer legs. 
One generation, the horses would have the advantage and the short-legged cats 
starved. The next generation, the cats were able to outrun the horses, and the 
slower horses with shorter legs were eaten.
That is what I believe happened to you and the Swift Eaters. Their numbers grew 
to the point where population pressure forced them into your habitat. They found 
that your people were good to eat, and the competition between you caused both 
sides to grow bigger brains rather than longer legs.
What of the tales of misshapen hatchlings?
Perhaps they are overblown. There will be some mutations and genetic defects in 
every generation. With their tale of the Evil Star, your chieftains became very 
sensitive to it and killed the hatchlings that appeared inferior. In this way, 
they bred your race for increased intelligence.
What is your point? Varlan asked after a pause to think.
Only that your tale of a supernova-generated war of extinction with the Swifts 
may be an oversimplification of what really happened. If we can find the real 
truth, perhaps we can convince your people that war to the death is not always 
the answer when two intelligent species encounter one another.
Varlan was about to respond when Bethany held up her hand in a restraining 
gesture. If you dont mind, I am very fatigued. Can we take this up tomorrow?
Of course, Seora.  My apologies for taking so much time.
Thank you, Seor Santiago.
At that moment, Bethanys phone rang on her hip. She slipped it from its belt 
case and pressed the activate key.
Yes?
The others watched her expression grow tense. She listened for a dozen seconds, 
and then replaced the phone in its carrier. The worry lines were evident in her 
face as she turned to face them.
What is the matter, Bethany? Varlan asked. She had gotten very good at reading 
her friends moods in the last three years, and this mood was one of pain.
That was my assistant. News just came in from the fleet.
Three human voices asked in unison, What news?
Nothing definite. Richards squadron jumped through to Eulysta two days ago and 
has not yet returned. Apparently, the battle is well underway.
Bethany turned to leave. Her bed, where she could lie down and put her feet up, 
had been much on her mind the past two hours. She took a single step and then 
lurched to a halt. She felt for the back of Olivia Southingtons chair, missed, 
and found her arm instantly steadied by Jorge Santiago.
What is the matter?
Bethany clutched at her belly and grimaced with the pain. After a dozen seconds 
in which she could not speak, she straightened up and sighed, That was the 
worst contraction yet.
Olivia, who had been looking at the back of Bethanys skirt, said, That was 
more than a contraction, Bethany. Your water just broke.
Varlan, who had also seen the stain, let her ears flatten against her head, a 
sign of distress in a Ryall. Is something wrong?
Olivia turned to the alien with a smile. Nothing at all, Varlan. Bethany is 
about to have a baby!
#
Chapter 5
 
Periskay of the Distant Mountains in the Mist was frightened  not for himself  
but for The Race. The mystery of the destruction of the Corlis mineral 
extraction facility was solved, and like many mysteries, the resolution had left 
him wishing that it had not been.
Five planetary revolutions earlier, his young assistant burst into his sleeping 
chamber and emitted the high-pitched danger signal. Periskay awakened to find 
himself on six legs, torso and headup in the guard position, tail extended for 
use as a club, arms held high to ward off unseen blows. His earswere flattened 
againstwerefoldedflatto his skull and his teeth bared, ready to tear into 
whoever or whatever menaced him. Rather than the hated ancestral enemies, he 
found Dillatan of the Sleek Swimmers standing far enough from his bower to be 
out of reach.
 What is it? he asked the youth whose scales were still developing their adult 
color. The irritation that accompanied waking to alarm was evident in his tone.
The ship reports multiple contacts in the portal to the Evil Star.
The expedition has returned? Periskay asked.
If they have, they are being chased by the entire Monster Navy. Spectrographic 
analysis has positively identified the craft as warships of the bipeds. A 
flotilla appears to be moving away from the portal at high speed.
Coming here?
Dillatan signaled a negative. No, Storislan ofStar Wanderer reports that they 
are headed for the portal to Carratyl at high acceleration. He asks your 
instructions.
An invasion? Periskay asked, incredulous.
It would appear so.
Although an engineer-philosopher and not a warrior, Periskay hesitated not an 
instant. This situation threatened the very survival of The Race.
Tell Storislan to run for Carratyl as fast as he can. He is authorized to burn 
out his ships engines if need be. Just get through the stargate and spread the 
alarm that there are Monsters in our space!
Yes, Philosopher!
Dillatan of the Swift Swimmers proved how his clan had received its name. He 
performed a maneuver that, had it been in the water, would have been called a 
back flip and he was gone. Periskay let the knotted muscles in his torso relax 
and followed at a more leisurely pace, as befitted his station. The order he had 
just given would likely end their lives. He required time to think through the 
implications.
Ordering the ship to break orbit and run for the home stars was the only 
decision possible with a hostile war fleet in Eulystas sky. He did not need to 
see the velocity plots to know that the Monsters intended to englobe the 
gateway. Any logical mind planning an invasion would do the same. What he did 
not know was whether he had just ordered Storislan to his death. WhetherStar 
Wanderer reached the portal before the bipedswould largely be 
determinedwouldbedeterminedbythe bythe relative positions of the two portals in 
the sky. U, and unfortunately, orbital mechanics was not one of his specialties, 
so he had no way to judge the probable outcome..
With a flash of insight, Periskay realized that something similar must have 
happened to the missingSpace Swimmer . The Monsters had appeared from out of the 
Evil Star and caught the ore carrier before it could reach Carratyl. Captain 
Ossfil and his crew had undoubtedly died bravely when their ship was 
vaporizedhen their ship was destroyed,.  justasStar Wandererwouldlikelysuffer 
the same fatebevaporized if it lost the race to the stargate.
Having taken the only action he could, Periskay turned to the problem of looking 
after the safety of his team. What could they do against a fleet of Monsters 
trapped on this alien world?
Again, he had an intuition that he was not the firstRyallof his caste to face 
this problem. The plant manager, Varlan, must haveconfronted the same 
quandaryconsidered how to defend her facilitywhen the bipeds appeared that first 
time. Shehad obviously chosenhadundoubtedlydecidedthatherbestcoursewas to 
fortifythemine, and had made her stand inthe deep tunnels.  
andthendefendoneofthedeeptunnels. The condition ofherthe facility showed that 
choiceto havehad been the wrong one.
No, if the Monsters bothered to make a landing at all, 
safetyforhimselfandhisworkerslaywouldlie in the trackless forests and marshes. 
The local flora and fauna was another subject that he had not bothered to study. 
What voracious appetites waited in those woods to devour the unwary? What plants 
were poisonous to The Races metabolism and which were nutritious? What food 
supplements wouldthey needberequiredtolito li ve off the land?
Periskay mulled over all that he did not know about Eulysta as he walked. His 
ignorance of local conditions was great, but ignorant or not, he had no choice. 
The previous tenants had demonstrated their fate should they choose to defend 
the mineral extraction facility. He had no desire to see history repeat itself; 
at least, not in that way.
No, their only choice was to scatter into the wilds, and they would not even be 
able to scatter very far. The only vehicles they possessed were heavy 
construction machines that would leave a trail through the trees that a 
blindslongth could follow. Their only hope ofescapingescape would be on foot, 
and while The Race was designed superbly for its aquatic home, their short legs 
were not designed for hiking.
When he reached the tent used for an eating facility, he found half his 
subordinates crowded around a communicator. Thossital, the senior worker, was 
speaking to the ship.
 That is Philosopher Periskays command, Thossital was saying. As fast as you 
can
Storislan was staring at them from the depths of the screen. He was too close to 
the visual pickup, which caused his snout to appear comically elongated. I can 
get a lander to you in a tenth-rotation, and back here in two.
Periskay nudged his way into the crowd. By the time he reached the zone where 
Storislan could see him, his crew had parted like the waters of a home world 
lake before apezist after its dinner.
The ship captain saw him. Ah, Philosopher. I have been telling these workers of 
yours that I will send a boat down to evacuate you.
No. Swim for theBreakorbitnowandgettotheCarratyl portal. You must reach 
itbefore the Monsters.
You dont understand. We have detected a second group of ships leaving the 
portal from the Evil Star. They appear to be coming here.
We arent important. You must get word of this invasion to Those Who Rule.
 I obey your orders, Philosopher, Storislan replied. Star Wandererwill be 
under power within a dozen-squared heartbeats. With that, the ship captain 
signed off.
Periskay turned to look at his team. Two-dozen heads moved imperceptibly to 
focus on him.
What are we to do, Philosopher?
Prepare our supplies for transport. We are going to scatter into the bush.
On foot? What do we know of the dangers in the forest?
We know nothing of the dangers of this world, Periskay replied as he shifted 
his gaze to the blue cloth overhead. We know what dangers lie in our sky, 
however. We will wait one planetary rotation to observe and make preparations. 
Then we disappear into the forests like beasts. Our task is to be well dispersed 
by the time the Monsters get here.
That is what they had done. Over the next rotation, they received transmissions 
fromStar Wanderer advising of them of progress. As Periskay suspected,Wanderer 
was no match for the warships bearing down on the gateway to Carratyl. The 
situation put him in mind of a pack of Swift Eaters stalking a gravid mother en 
route to the marshes to lay her eggs. The outcome did not seem in doubt, and it 
was not good for The Race.
It had been the hardest thing Periskay had ever done to shut down the 
communicator and strike out into the wilderness with five of his subordinates. 
Two revolutions later,hePeriskay was startled by the crash ofanumerous sonic 
booms. He lookedup. Hehadlookedupin time to see a small alien craft flying very 
fast just above the trees. The craft had been in viewfora single heartbeatonly a 
few seconds ,butbutlong enough for Periskay to observe that it had not been 
manufactured by The Race.
houghtherecognizedasmallatmospherictrooptransportofnon-Ryalldesign.
The sight of that single ship had driven a cold stake into Periskays brain. 
IfStar Wanderer hadfailed to escapenot escaped and the Monsters were occupying 
Eulysta,theRaceThe Race was truly in grave danger.
#
Sergeant Matt Cunningham, Royal Sandarian Marines, strode through the 
yellow-green vegetation and listened to the whir of insects at maximum gain via 
his helmets sound pickup. With a portion of his brain, he matched his own 
position on thehelmet faceplate display with what his eyes were telling him, and 
compared that with the positions of the other members of his squad. The tactical 
situation was unchanged from what it had been for the past two days  
frustrating!
The Marine assault on Eulysta from the troop carrier,TSNSMozart , had begun at 
local dawn some forty hours earlier. The assault had been a textbook envelopment 
made after an approach at high gravs. Cunninghams company had entered 
atmosphere in their landing boats even beforeMozart completed its first powered 
orbit of the planet. They swooped down on the river of mud where the Ryall mine 
had been, taking the place in a classic vertical envelopment. They found the 
place deserted save for several electric-blue tents that showed signs of recent 
occupation.
The signs were obvious. The lizards had excavated the muck, searching for a clue 
as to what had happened there. The extent of the digging suggested a large 
number of workers. Some of the men in his company speculated that they had 
evacuated to their ship as soon as the fleet appeared in the foldpoint. 
Cunningham doubted that. His intuition, backed by tactical analysis, was that 
there had not been time to flee. The Ryall vessel left orbit too quickly after 
breakout for the ground party to have been aboard.
If the Ryall had not escaped on the ship, and they were not hiding in the mine, 
then they must have taken to the bush. Cunningham and two companies of Marines 
began sweeping the area for refugeestwo days earlier. Slowly,Over the past to 
daysone by one, they had rounded up a dozen lizards.
None of the Ryall captured so far were warrior caste. That had not stopped them 
from putting up a fight. Luckily, battle armor is impervious to teeth, although 
one of the larger captives succeeded in breaking a Marines arm during a 
scuffle.
It would have been easier to shoot them, of course; but orders were to get as 
many alive as possible for interrogation. Besides, even though slogging through 
this alien forest was hot, uncomfortable work, Cunningham still preferred it to 
the kidney jolting acceleration they had sufferedaboardship during the 
approachto the planet.
 Sarge! the familiar voice echoed in his earphones, momentarily cutting out 
the background noise of insects.
Yes, Suharo.
I think I see one of em.
Where?
About fifty meters ahead of me. The analyzer just popped up a bogie on my 
screen.
Shit, Private, you know how crappy the analyzers are on an alien world. They 
havent had time to learn half of what they need to know.
Want me to ignore it?
Negative. Approach with stealth and be careful. Just because the rest of them 
havent been armed doesnt mean that this one isnt.
Right, Sarge. Im starting my approach now.
Murphy and Gleason. Close Suharos flanks and support.
Will do. Right, Sarge.
 Inside his battle armor, Sergeant Matt Cunningham began to whistle tonelessly. 
Things, it seemed, were looking up.
#
Lieutenant Mirabel Fortura lay strapped in her acceleration couch and let her 
gaze sweep across the screens. Save for her vessels consorts and an expanding 
cloud of plasma fifty thousand kilometers distant, there was nothing in range. 
The golden symbol that representedMercurys Javelin, her high-acceleration 
speeder, lay just beyond the pale red oval that represented the foldpoint to the 
next Ryall system. Around the oval, still moving into position, were the rest of 
theMercury-class warcraft. Their engines were spent, and they would need to be 
towed to a shipyard in Eulysta orbit once one was set up, but their mission had 
been a success so far.
TheMercury squadron had won the race to see whocw ould reach the foldpoint 
first, if barely. Despite being outclassed, the lizardshipshadkeptcontinued 
coming on as they had all converged on the foldpoint. It had been an easy 
maneuver tomissilevaporize the big Ryall freighter short of the goalwith a 
missile. Now, all they had to do was hold on for the next four days while the 
rest of the fleet crossed from the Eulysta-Antares foldpoint. Military 
intelligence thoughtMercurysSquadrons patrol would likely be uneventful  a 
good possibility since the Ryall thought this system a cul-de-sac. Mirabel 
prayed they were right. Whether right or wrong, however, their mission was to 
hold the foldpoint and destroy anything that came throughbefore the victim had 
time to recharge their jump generators. Those orders were the same whether the 
intruder was the Ryall equivalent of a yacht, or the largest blastship in the 
lizard fleet. In the latter case,MercurysS quadron would be like a bunch of dogs 
nipping at the heels of a bear. No matter how many of her squadron died in the 
battle, no intruder must escape to carry word back to Carratyl.
In retrospect, Mirabel thought, as she still tasted the used-tennis-shoe flavor 
of acceleration fluid that had recently filled her lungs, the conquest of 
Eulysta had been a training text operation. If only the rest of the invasion 
went as well.
What was that they were always telling students at the academy? No plan ever 
survives contact with the enemy? So far, this plan had worked beautifully, which 
was, according to Murphys Laws for Military Operations, when one was supposed 
to worry most
#
Richard Drake sat at his console aboardConqueror II and worried. That seemed to 
be his normal state of mind these days. Not only was there the invasion to 
execute, which was enough worry for any man, there was that other small matter. 
Bethanys due date had come and gone about the midway point in their mad dash 
across the Corlis System. Probably, he was the proud father of a bouncing baby 
boy. Probably, all had gone well for mother and child. PROBABLY, he should be 
overjoyed at his good fortune.
So, why didnt he feel overjoyed?
Despite a thousand years of obstetrical science, there were no guarantees where 
childbirth was concerned. Mothers still occasionally died during labor  from 
hemorrhage, stroke, or heart failure  despite everything 26thcentury medicine 
could do. One thing that men did not understand was that labor was just that, a 
strain on the mothers system equivalent to running up a hundred flights of 
stairs in a piggyback race. He remembered a female comedian on one of the 
entertainment channels at home. One of her biggest laugh lines had come when she 
compared childbirth to pulling a rag doll out of ones nasal cavities through a 
nostril. Drake suspected that the joke went back at least a few centuries.
Even if Bethany had come through the ordeal healthy, what of the child? True, 
the genetic tests had shown everything all right when hehad left Altan orbit, 
but what did the geneticists really know? Could they tell whether a child would 
be a holy terror by age two, or how he would do in school, or if he would be 
tongue-tied around young ladies as a teenager? When one considered the 
complexity of the human genome, it was a wonder that they could predict any of 
the unborn childs characteristics.
And what about disease?
Drake made a conscious effort to suppress his nervousness at the imponderables 
of what was happening at home, and concentrated instead on the imponderables of 
what was happening around him.
Truth was, the invasion was going well, and that worried him. As expected, there 
had been a small Ryall presence on Eulysta when they had appeared from out of 
the nebula. The Ryallhad spotted them quickly enough, judging by the speed with 
which a ship had powered up in Eulysta orbit. The two hours thathad 
followedwerehad been the longest of Drakes life. He remembered the feeling of 
relief when Tactical finally reported the alien fugitives vector. Unless the 
Ryall ship had more legs than they were showing, the speeders would overtake it 
just short of the foldpoint.
Assuming things went well, theleading units of the fleet would reach the gateway 
to the Carratyl system eight days after leaving the nebula. They would englobe 
the foldpoint for two more days while they allowedstragglerstherestofthefleet to 
catch up with them, and then they would begin the process all over again.
Carratyl was no mere outpost of the Ryall Hegemony. It was an agricultural world 
with a foldpoint leading directly to Spica, the linchpin of Ryall space. The 
lizards had a military base on one of the moons, with steady traffic between 
planet and foldpoint.
The next time a human fleet came boiling out of foldspace, they 
wouldfindbefacedwith a Ryall force capable of blocking their advance. It would 
be necessaryTheywouldhaveto fight their way through to the Carratyl-Spica 
foldpoint and englobe it. If they were lucky, they might get there beforeanythe 
Ryallcraft could jumpthroughashipthrough to Spica. If not, then they would lose 
the element of surprise, and the invasion would turn into an interstellar meat 
grinder.
Drake grimaced as he visualizedhowwhathis fleet would 
looklikeeveniftheysucceededinafterwrestingcapturing Spicafromagainst a fully 
alerted Ryall Hegemony. Even if they maintained the element of surprise, 
casualties might be high when they reached the central system of Ryall Space. 
There was just no way to know. He had heard the expression, fog ofwar, but had 
never really understood what it meant until now.   The only thing that seemed 
certain was that he was destined to live on coffee and stomach acid for the rest 
of the voyage.
As he pondered, he let his eyes scan the daily situation report. Eulysta was the 
one bright spot in his life. The planet was firmly in human hands and even now, 
Admiral Belton had begun construction of what would soon be the largest human 
base outside the Solar System. It was in the Corlis system that damaged ships 
were to be repaired, and where they would stockpile the consumables required by 
a fleet at war.
Of one thing, Drake was certain. Spica would not be a good place to run short of 
ammunition.
#
Chapter 6
&nbsp;
Varlan of the Scented Waters pondered life as she stood in front of the wide 
window and looked at the wiggling mass of pink protoplasm in the sterile room 
beyond. Richard Clarence Drake was a large baby (they told her), massing some 4 
kilograms at birth. Bethany had allowed Varlan to observe the entire ten-hour 
process that had culminated in young Richards entry into the world, and she 
could not decide whether she was more mystified or disgusted.
The humans called Varlan and her kin lizards, after a class of beasts on their 
home world that bore a superficial resemblance to The Race. In reality, of 
course, that was all the resemblance was  superficial. For, as both human and 
Ryall exobiologists had discovered after finding the first world with life other 
than their own on it, different biospheres often lead to radically different 
solutions. As Varlan had learned in her studies of Earth, various species there 
were called monkeys. These simian relatives of the humans had drawn her 
attention because their similar shape to the big bipeds made her think that she 
could learn about her captors by studying their close relatives.
It turned out that onlysome of the monkeys were closely related to humans. Those 
were the group dubbed the old world monkeys. These monkeys shared a common 
ancestor with the humans, a small beast called a lemur. The other group, the 
new world monkeys  the distinction between old and new escaped Varlan 
completely  were descended from a different ancestor species, the tarsiers. The 
similarities between the two kinds of simians was coincidental, a result of 
similar environmental factors producing similar arrangements of shape and 
function.
So it was with Varlan and the lizards of Earth. Both possessed scales and 
similar coloration, but the differences between them far outweighed the 
similarities. For one thing, Varlan was warm blooded, and a hexapod. Her species 
had been semi-aquatic rather than land dwelling for much of its history  like 
the terrestrial crocodile, a beastie that reminded Varlan of her own distant, 
non-sentient ancestors.
The other similarity between The Race and lizards, of course, came from the fact 
that both laid eggs to reproduce, although a terrestrial lizard egg looked 
nothing like the thick-shelled iridescent equivalent of The Race. The humans had 
explained that mammals, a classification unknown on Darthan and most of the 
worlds of the hegemony, gave birth to live young and that the mother suckled the 
young (a disgusting concept) with the large glands that contributed so much to 
the basic female shape. However, hearing the process described and actually 
seeing it were two different things.
If repelled by the sight of that small head appearing at the exit of the birth 
canal, Varlan could at least intellectually understand the profound effect their 
reproduction process had on humans. Indeed, to understand mammalian live birth 
was to understand many of their basic attitudes.
First, there was their societal structure, which was formed by a breeding pair 
and their offspring. The human family was a smaller unit than clans of The Race. 
Among Varlans people, clans were composed of several dozen individuals related 
by bloodline, but for whom relationships were much less clear than among humans. 
That was because females laid their eggs, and then left them alone to hatch. The 
offspring that resulted were raised communally since it was impossible to tell 
who was the child of which parents. True, some youngsters often had distinctive 
scale markings, or prominent snout or length of tail, distinguishing 
characteristics that were similar to those of one adult or another. However, to 
actually claim paternity/maternity, was something not often done by members of 
The Race. In fact, when a female became fixated on identifying which of the new 
crop of hatchlings were her own, the elders of the clan gave her a name and the 
name was not a particularly polite one.
The human system of reproduction meant that mothers could not help but know who 
their offspring were. For one thing, they were always present when the offspring 
hatched. Furthermore, the baby was utterly dependent on its mother for 
sustenance for a long period after entering the world, which meant that the bond 
between mother and child had to be a strong one.
The upshot of all of this mammalian biology was that human beings focused on 
smaller groups than did The Race. This family orientation led them to be more 
individualistic and less content with their chosen lot in life. Varlan was a 
member of the manager caste and would have it no other way. She was neither 
subject to feelings that her life was somehow unfulfilled, nor by longing to be 
that which she was not. Her observations of her captors had convinced her that 
both conditions were endemic in the human psyche.
 Beautiful, isnt he? a voice asked from beside her.
Varlan had been so deep in introspection that she had not noticed the approach 
of Dr. Olivia Southington. She turned her head and replied, I will take your 
word for it. This, after all, is the first human baby I have ever seen. He 
resembles some older males I have met.
Olivia Southington laughed. I know what you mean. Without hair and with their 
faces all scrunched up like that, babies look like petulant old men. Still, we 
find them adorable. I suppose it is the same with your children.
Yes. The hatchlings are much I will use the human word loved although the 
emotion is somewhat different.
Perhaps cherished is the word you are looking for.
Yes, cherished, I believe is closer to the true feelings we have for them.
It is a shame that the hatchlings have to be endangered by this war.
Varlan turned to stare at the female exobiologist. She had been among the humans 
long enough to recognize the transition from polite conversation to business, 
even when delivered in a light tone of voice.
You wish to explore our attitude to this war, Dr. Southington?
Olivia laughed. Am I that transparent?
Your intention is not difficult to discern, even for an alien.
Very well. If you cherish your hatchlings so, why do you risk their lives the 
way you do?
You miss the point. We fight this war because it is our experience that to do 
otherwise would risk them more.
Olivia nodded. The Legend of the Swift Eaters.
Despite what Jorge Santiago believes, the Swift Eaters are no legend. They 
existed and they nearly exterminated The Race. We fought them for a very long 
time. I am not sure you humans understand just how long our war with the Swifts 
lasted.
For generations.
For thousands of generations, Olivia. You humans have no comparable experience. 
I have been reading your scholarly literature on the subject and I am beginning 
to understand how you think. Your sociologists have this perennial argument over 
nature versus nurture, whether genetics or culture are more important in the 
development of your young. Trust me, Olivia. By the standards of The Race, you 
humans areall nurture. You are blank slates? 
Blank slate is the correct idiom.
You are born blank slates and your parents and adults program everything you 
know into you at an early age. We, on the other hand, fought the Swifts for so 
long, and with such a high mutation rate, that we evolved an instinct to kill 
them. We do not need to learn to hate them. The coding is already within us. 
Surely you know individual humans who are frightened merely by the sight of some 
animal.
Olivia nodded. I dont like rats, and a great many people have an aversion to 
snakes.
I have an instinct to hate Swift Eaters and they have been dead for more than a 
dozen-squared generations. It is part of my psyche and there is nothing I can do 
about it.
Must you take it out on us humans?
Our experience with the swifts taught us the danger of having two sentient 
species vie for the same territory. Conflict is inevitable. Unlike your species, 
The Race does not hypnotize itself in order to avoid unpleasant facts. Nor do we 
leave known problems for the next generation to solve.
But you are putting this generation at actual risk to avoid a hypothetical risk 
in the future.
We do not believe the risk in the future is hypothetical.
For the sake of argument, let us say that your position has validity. Why 
attack us the moment you became aware of our existence? Why not wait until you 
had learned all you could about us, and then take the time to prepare for the 
battle?
Varlan had pondered that very point many times since her capture. Would it not 
have been better to spy out the enemys strengths before launching the battle 
against them?
Perhaps it would have been better to pretend friendship until we knew enough 
about you human beings to safely defeat you. Unfortunately, you are the first 
sentient species we have encountered since we ended the threat of the Swifts, so 
we lack experience in these matters.
 Then you are saying that the original attack on the New Providence refugees 
was a mistake?
It was an instinctive reaction. Whether it was a mistake will be determined by 
the fate of your invasion fleet.
I appreciate you being so honest with me.
My species does not see the need to hide from unpleasant truths, Olivia. We do 
not delude ourselves.
Both of our species have flaws, Varlan. However, we also have intelligence. 
That intelligence gives us humans the ability to modify our responses to 
stimuli. Bethany thinks the same is true of Ryall.
Yes, Bethany has talked to me of this concept many times.
Do you possess the ability to have your intelligence override your instincts?
That is what you are here to determine, is it not, Olivia?
It is indeed.
#
Lieutenant Sean Parker floated in a pool of oxygenated fluid and stared at the 
instruments inside his tank. At his side, blue-tinged blood flowed through a 
clear umbilical cord away from his combat suit, while bright red blood flowed 
back through the return line. Both lines were attached to a socket just above 
his left hip, and from there to his circulatory system. Parker was not 
breathing. He could not. His lungs contained the same heavy fluid in which he 
was submerged. In fact, all of his body cavities were filled with oxygenated 
fluid.
MercurySquadron. Report status.
The words in his ears were delivered in the perfect contralto tones that marked 
the voice that produced them as computer synthesized. Like Parker, the speaker, 
his squadron commander, lay submerged in an acceleration tank, her lungs filled 
with oxygenated fluorocarbon, and unable to make a sound. Her 
wordsweredeliveredwere produced by theviaa small inductive pickup mounted behind 
her right ear. The pickup monitored the output of numerous electrodes that had 
been carefully implanted beneath her skull amid the valleys of her cerebral 
cortex
It was the surgically implanted enhancements, along with the long training to 
use them properly, that marked the elite flight crews of theMercurysS quadrons, 
the high acceleration craft whose mission it was to seize enemy foldpoints 
before the Ryall could spread the alarm.
Mercury Climber, ready for jump, Parker replied, using his own implants to 
search among the prerecorded responses. He had adjusted his personal simulated 
voice to a deep baritone to distinguish it from those of his three crewmates.
He listened as the ten ships of his squadron reported their status, and then as 
the other two squadrons reported in. Following the jump from Antares to Eulysta, 
only a single squadron had been required to secure the enemy foldpoint. Eulysta 
was an outpost system and high command had wisely decided to conserve their 
resources. Alpha Squadron had spearheaded the invasion of Eulysta, but would not 
be going along this time. They had worn out their engines during the mad dash 
across the system, and until overhauled, were little more than intrasystem 
scooters.
This time, the duty and honor fell to the remaining three squadrons inthe 
Mercury Force. Beta, Gamma, and Delta Squadrons would race across the Carratyl 
System to the Carratyl-Spica foldpoint. Nor was the force made up solely by 
armed speeders this time. Gamma Squadron including three destroyers modified for 
high acceleration attack. In addition to having engines and reaction tankage 
approximately quadruple the normal size,Mercury Force vessels mounted 
surprisingly heavy armament for ships of their class  proving that engineers 
can do wonders if their designs are not required to last beyond a single battle.
TheMercuryclasswasdesignedforonlytwomissions:conquestoftheEulystaandCarratylsystems. 
OncethefleetbeganspillingthroughthefoldpointtoSpica,therewouldbeneitherneednorpossibilitytokeeptheirpresencesecret. 
SinceSpicawasthekeytotheentireRyallHegemony,itwaslikelytobefilledwithshipsinmidvoyagebetweenthehomestarsofthehegemony. 
AtleastafewofthoseshipswouldmakeitsafelythroughsomeofthesevenotherfoldpointsinthesystemandwouldspreadthealarmthathumanshipswereinSpicassky. 
Afterthat,theultimatebattlewouldbegin,abattlethatwoulddeterminetheoutcomeoftheHuman-Ryallwar.
 If they could prevent the Ryallfrom mobilizing until the fleet reached Spica, 
Mercury Force would have done its job. Afterwards, they would have most of their 
offensive weapons dismounted and would take over fast courier duties for 
anything the high command wanted returned to Eulystathat could not be put into a 
message. Like most of his compatriots, Sean Parker hated the idea of being 
demoted to messenger boy, and he was determined to make his time in the 
spotlight count.
Mercury Force, ready to jump, Fleet, came the report from Captain Danvers 
aboardMercury Rocket .
Very good,Mercury Force. Your advance scouts may start charging their 
generators.
Beta Squadron. Begin charging your generators.
Climber, acknowledges, Parker sent. Then on the ships intercom, he said, 
This is it. Strap down, it may be a bumpy ride from here on out.
The joke brought the requisite (and synthesized) chuckles. Floating as they were 
in their acceleration tanks, with their lungs and intestines filled with the 
vile tasting, worse smelling fluid, they had no need to strap down. In 
fact,Mercury Climber could run into a small planet at atmospheric aircraft 
speeds, and assuming his tank remained intact, Parker would survive the crash. 
The cushioning volume of acceleration fluid would protect his internal organs 
against accelerations fifty times standard gravity, and impacts even higher.
He just wished it werent so uncomfortable. Worse than the surgeries and the 
endless hours training his body to control the implants, was the constant 
feeling that he was drowning. Nor did he look forward to the spate of coughing 
that would be required to empty his lungs of the fluid once they secured the 
foldpoint and were able to de-tank.
Generators charged, Parker reported, followed in quick order by the othertwo 
speeders.
You are cleared for foldspace transition, Captain Danvers transmitted.
Very well, foldspace transition in ten  nine  five  four  three  two  one 
 transition!
#
Drake watched the ten speeders disappear from his command screen and felt the 
same thrill that he had when they had departed the nebula.
 Onesystemdownandonetogobeforetheyreachedtheirobjective.
Two minutes, Admiral.
Very well communicator. Get the fleet in position. The rest ofMercury Force 
will jump first, followed by the other squadrons in order. Everyone will begin 
acceleratingtowardtheirobjectives immediately after breakout. They can sort out 
their formations en route. Send those orders and the general standby signal.
Yes, sir.
The chronometer continued counting down the minimum time required before one of 
the speeders reappeared to give them the All Clear. As at Eulysta, Drake worried 
about what he would do if the two minutes elapsed and there was no wordastoon 
conditionsbeyondon the far side of the foldpoint. To occupy his mind, he counted 
his flock, which had swelled considerably since they had left the nebula.
More than a hundred shipshad made the initial jump from Antares to Eulysta. Of 
those, a dozenhad split off to capture the planet Corlis. Led by Admiral 
BeltonsVictory , the raiding force including his old consortsDagger 
andDreadnought . They were still there, supporting operations to turn the 
uninhabited world into a forward base for the invasion. They were not scheduled 
to rejoin the fleet for nearly a month. Hopefully,Victory, minus its admiral, 
would rejoin sooner than that. The fleet neededthe big blastshipsits firepower.
To replace them, the Terrestrial Third Starfleet, including four blastships 
larger thanConqueror II , had joined him. Indeed, in addition to Sergei Gower, 
Sandarian Navy, he now had three flag officers under his command, allofwhichwere 
senior to him in both experience and rank. Two of these  Kreuchner and Wu  
would undoubtedly be happy to displace him if his leadership proved lacking. He 
did not much care for the stress that put him under, but it kept him on his 
toes. His life since leaving Alta had been one continuous mental game of 
wondering what it was that he had forgotten.
With the new replacements, Drakes fleet numbered nearly four hundred, counting 
combat vessels and armed auxiliaries. Three times that number of ships would 
eventually be required to secure Spica.
In addition to the combatants, some eighty of the big globular assault tankers 
were with the fleet. The tankers had been busy the past 24 hours as warship 
after warship moved in close to refill tanks depleted during the mad dash across 
the Eulysta System. Third Starfleet had arrived only six hours earlier; their 
tanks nearlyrun dryfromby  the speed run across the system.
Drake watched the screen counter wind down toward zero. Just as it touched that 
magic number, there was a report of a breakout.
What ship?
Mercury Climber, Admiral.
Patch me through.
Aye aye, sir.
Lieutenant Parker,Mercury Climber , Admiral, a synthesized voice said after a 
few seconds.
Report, Mr. Parker.
The foldpoint is clear of enemy forces, sir. The fleet can begin foldspace 
transition when you are ready.
What of the enemy?
Sensors picked up a lot of space traffic in the short time we had to look. Most 
appears centered on the planet. There are some ships in transit between planet 
and the Carratyl-Spica foldpoint, sir. We couldnt tell whether they were coming 
or going, however.
Understood, Drake said. It would probably take several hours of observations 
of their drive flares before they would be able to sort out those ships en route 
to the planet from those headed back toward Ryall space. They could safely 
ignore those moving away. Their velocity would make it difficult for them to 
turn around and retreat the way they had come. If some were en route toward the 
foldpoint, however,Mercury Force was going to have another race on its hands. 
Any readings from the planet?
Nothing but general energy emanations, Admiral. The planet is on the opposite 
side of the system from where we broke out, so we could not get a very good 
look. Its for certain that they will have time to get ready for the ships 
assigned to neutralize that naval base.
Drake nodded. They had known that Carratyls agricultural world would be on the 
opposite side of the system primary from the foldpoints when they planned the 
mission. In fact, they were counting on it to give them a chance to bottle up 
the system before the alarm could be spread. On the other hand, the shipsub 
fleetassigned tothatwouldpound the Ryall navy base into submission would be 
taking on an enemy who had plenty of time to prepare a defense.
Anything else to report, Mr. Parker?
No sir.
Are your generators charged?
They will be in 73 seconds, sir.
Very well. That will be our mark then. Mr. Carey. Inform the fleet that the 
rest ofMercury Force,and Task Forces Darthan and Carratyl will jump withMercury 
Climber  Drake looked at the chronometer.  at 10:27:16 hours precisely. The 
rest of the fleet will follow in their assigned order at one-minute intervals. 
All Ships, stand by for foldspace transition.
He listened as the order went out. All over the fleet, there were terse 
acknowledgements of the order and nothing else, yet he could almost feel the 
tension building with the foldspace jump fields. Whole squadrons of tightly 
bunched ships were preparing to jump into enemy space. Upon arrival, they would 
beTheywouldbejumbled randomly across the foldpoint,on the opposite side,the 
victim of random quantum effects. It would take some time to 
astheyenteredfoldspace,andwouldsubsequentlyhavetosort thingsemselvesout. In the 
meantime, however, there was no reason why they could not get moving in the 
direction of their various objectives. As Drake had ordered, they could sort 
themselves out en route to wherever they were going..
Ten seconds, Admiral.
Once again, the computer-generated countdown echoed throughout the ship. Ten  
nine  eight  seven  six  five  four  three  two  one  Jump!
#
Chapter 7
&nbsp;
For an instant, nothing seemed to happen. The blackness on the main viewscreen 
appeared unchanged, as did the stars that dotted the firmament. Even the system 
primary looked the same, an especially bright star in a field of diamonds 
sprinkled across an ebon backdrop. For long seconds, the bridge was silent save 
for the susurration of ventilators and the background noise of powerful engines 
coming to life deep within the hull.
After a short 
pause,ttheendofaspanoftimethatlastednolongerthanadozenheartbeats,themomentofsilencethatoftenfollowsafoldspacetransitionwasdisruptedasreports 
began flooding in from all over the ship. 
At first,thereportswerefrom departments reportedingthat they had survived the 
transition with no ill effects. Then the sensor operators filled the comm 
channels with their observations. Wherever they were,BlastshipASNSConqueror II 
was no longer high above a yellow-white star known to human beings as Eulysta.
Admiral, we have located the planet. All seems normal Admiral, ships are 
popping out of foldspace all around us. The nearest is 
theBattleCruiserASNSDiscovery  Drake smiled at the chance that would bring his 
old command out of foldspace so close to his new command. He considered sending 
a personal message to Rorqual Marchant, now commanding, but decided against it. 
Rorq had his own problems and so did he. Mercury Force is departing the 
foldpoint at ten gravities. They are en route to the Carratyl-Spica foldpoint 
Now we haveSandarian TankerZanzibar close to our zenith. She just popped out 
less than ten thousand kilometers from us 
No matter how precise a fleets formation when it enters one end of a foldline, 
its individual components exit the foldpointattheotherendinanorderrandomly 
dispersed. sojumbledthatnoonehadeverdetectedapatterntoit.  This phenomenon had 
cost attackers (both Ryall and human) more than one battle, since it is 
impossible to maintain a coherent formation following a jump. It is as though 
God throws the dice every time a ships captain gives the jump order.
The jump to Carratyl was no exception. Ships that had been tens of thousands of 
kilometers apart at Eulysta could end up nearly scraping hulls when they emerged 
in the foldpoint high above Carratyl. Luckily, foldpoints contained millions of 
cubic kilometers of empty space, and there had never been a recorded case of two 
ships colliding at the end of a jump. Drake did not wish to be the first 
commander so blessed. Therefore, as soon as the spate of breakout reports 
subsided, he gave the order for the fleet to disperseand move beyond the 
boundaries of the foldpointbeyond the foldpoint.
It took several secondsfortheshipsinthefleet to synchronizetheir computers andto 
exchange data concerning the post-transition coordinates ofeachof the task 
forces more than 100 members. For if there is little chance of a mid-space 
collision coming out of foldspace, the chance of a mid-space accident increased 
dramatically once those ships began to move. In fact, having a hundred ships all 
leaving the confines of the foldpoint at the same time was like a traffic cops 
worst nightmare, but in three dimensions. Added to that, of course, was the fact 
that 60 seconds after their initial twoinitialtaskforcesarrival in the 
foldpoint, Task Force Avadors 88 members would be materializing at random among 
them. They would be followed sixty seconds later by,withTask Force Rylmar. Soon 
the foldpoint would be jammed 
aminutebehindthem,andsoforthuntilthefoldpointwouldbecrowdedwith accelerating 
warships and tankers.
As he watched the colored icons begin to move purposely across the face of his 
command screen, Drakes practiced gaze began to pick out a pattern in the chaos. 
A minority of the blips were moving in the direction of Carratyl, while most 
others seemed to be powering into an orbit at right angles to the star. The 
first group was Task Force Carratyl, a heavy bombardment group centered on the 
BlastshipTSNSArchernar , which would attack the Ryalls moon-based fortress and 
knock down the planetary defenses. The second group includedConqueror II , and 
comprised the main body of the fleet, which was moving out after the already 
distantMercury Force.
Admiral, all ships have finished their jumps. All accounted for and en route to 
their assigned targets. Orders, sir?
Tell the squadrons to form up on their leaders and execute the plan. No 
additional orders at this time.
Aye aye, sir. Form up on leaders and execute the plan. Sending now.
His duties complete for the moment, Drake watched his screens for signs of Task 
Force Avador and indications that the enemy was aware of their presence. Of 
course, there was nothing yet to see on the last account. It would take light 
twenty minutes or so to reach the planet. Twenty minutes for the photons and 
gravity waves disturbed by their arrival to reach the planet, and twenty minutes 
before the photons carrying the Ryall response could return.
In forty minutes time, all hell would break loose in the Carratyl system. Drake 
decided to use the time productively. He considered for the thousandth time 
since entering the Antares nebula what it was that he had forgotten to do.
#
Weve got a problem, Lieutenant, the synthesized voice said in Sean Parkers 
earphones.
What is it, Starky?
Bogie Seven Delta is going to beat us to the foldpoint.
I thought we had that one licked.
So did we, sir. However, he did not make turnover on schedule. He is still 
accelerating. That means that he has saved enough fuel for an emergency 
deceleration at the foldpoint. If he doesnt begin decelerating in seven 
minutes, he will get there first.
Sean Parker nodded inside his acceleration tank. It was about the only thing he 
could do with all of the tubes he was hooked into. There was the oxygenator 
circuit that took over for his liquid filled lungs, and through which his 
nourishment was dispensed. With his esophagus filled with fluorocarbon 
champagne, as the pilots called it, his stomach had been sealed off to prevent 
the acid there from diffusing where it might do damage.
.
 Furthermore, since one of the characteristics of living things is that they 
excrete waste products, there were two other tubes whose function was vital, if 
not glamorous. Then there were the numerous lines to the tactile controls, 
essentially instrumented gloves, with which he ran the ship by simply moving his 
fingers. There were also the primary and secondary brainwave sensor cables 
through which he was given voice and through which he received some sensor 
inputs. After three days at high gravs, everything was beginning to chafe, and 
his abused and unused muscles were making their objections known. He had had the 
shakes a couple of times already, and knew that before this mission was over, 
his body would be quivering like a belly dancers abdomen.
What does Tactical say about the bogeys max accel performance?
They doubt he can do more than five gees. That is a guess, mind you, since we 
havent been able to figure out what the damn thing is yet.
Very well. We will assume a five gee decel. How long will they continue to 
accelerate?
The best guess is another couple of hours, Lieutenant. Then they will shut down 
and coast for six more hours, after which they will do a balls-to-the-wall 
deceleration. The projection is that they will reach the foldpoint a full hour 
before we do.
Then we will have to prevent that, wont we?
Most people think war in space is merely an extension of war as it was practiced 
by generations of fighter pilots. Nothing could be more wrong. War in the air is 
a matter of aerodynamics, of hypersonic wind rushing past sleek wing surfaces, 
and above all, of keeping the pointy end into the wind. War in space is a 
matter of vectors. The acceleration vector is integrated over time to generate 
velocity, which in turn is integrated to develop position. The orientation of 
the craft is independent of its flight path. While under power, the warcraft of 
vacuum are aligned with the acceleration vector, often flying sideways or even 
backwards to gainthe advantage over an adversary. A chase in atmosphere is 
generally a matter of pursuer and pursued both flying at maximum speed and then 
seeing who is the faster. In space, things are more complicated.
Starships are able to leap across light-years in no time at all, but when in 
transit between foldpoints, are governed by the laws of motion first postulated 
by Sir Isaac Newton. A typical voyage has three parts: the accel, the coast, and 
the decel.
Bogey Seven Delta had departed the Ryall agricultural world (that humans were 
calling Dogpatch) more than a week earlier. Ithad accelerated to three times 
local escape velocity and then shut down its engines to save fuel. Presumably, 
in another weeks time, it wouldhave again poweredits engines and deceleratedat 
the same rate at which it first accelerated. The deceleration would bring the 
Ryall ship to a near halt within the foldpoint, after which it wouldhave 
jumpedfrom Carratyl to the big star that was the central hub of the Ryall 
Hegemony.
The arrival of human warships in the Carratyl-Eulysta foldpointhad changed Bogey 
Seven Deltas plans as it had those of the dozens of ships en route to and from 
Spica. Within minutes of the invading fleets appearance, eachofthe shipsin 
transithad reacted like a frightened chicken in the sights of a truehawk. Those 
ships inbound from the foldpointhad ruan for the planet as quickly as their fuel 
state allowed. Most ships leaving Dogpatch for Spicahad turned around and 
reversed course, a maneuver that would leave their tanks dry upon arrival. Only 
the few close enough to the foldpoint to have a chance of outrunning the 
invaders had headed for the system exit.
Unfortunately for the Ryall shipmasters, they had not accounted for the blazing 
speed ofMercury Force . Most would reach the foldpoint hours or days late. In 
fact, until Bogey Seven Delta failed to make turnover on time, it 
appearedthatonceagain,that humanity wouldagain win its gamble and prevent any 
escape from Carratylto spread the alarm.
Even if the Ryall craft entered the foldpoint with dry tanks, it would still be 
able to jump to Spica where it could begin broadcasting a general alarm. That 
is, unless Sean Parker did something to stop him.
All right, put me on the force circuit.
You are patched through to all ships, Lieutenant.
This is Parker aboardClimber  he began. He explained the dilemma. When he 
finished, he said, Fuel state check. Who has the most in their tanks?
When the tally was complete, he looked over the numbers and made a decision. 
Diablo, you will be our hound. FoxandEvelyn , you will be the goats. Rendezvous 
with Elizabeth and transfer her a quarter of your remaining fuel. Keep just 
enough to get you there. Elizabeth, you will hold course after the rest of us 
make turnover, coast for three hours, and then do a maximum performance decel. 
Dont worry about stopping at the foldpoint. Take him out on the fly and well 
send a tanker to retrieve you if you run your tanks dry.
Understood, Sean, Elizabeth Esperanza said from her cocoon aboardMercury 
Diablo . Her simulated voice was almost as musical as her real voice. All 
right,Mercury Fox andMercury Evelyn . Close on me and coordinate engine cutoffs 
for minimum screwing around before the fuel transfer. I want all the time I have 
to nail that bogey at the foldpoint.
Parker watched the complex evolution and felt a surge of pride as the three 
ships formed up in close formation and then cut their engines in practically the 
same millisecond. All he could see was that three icons suddenly lost their 
violet acceleration vectors. The diagram on his helmet display did not show the 
frantic bursts of attitude control jets as each designated tanker moved in to 
dock in turn with Elizabeth Esperanzas ship, nor could he hear the frantic 
chugging of pumps as cryogenic hydrogen was transferred from one ship to 
another.
While the refueling continued, the rest ofMercury Force turned end for end and 
began decelerating. The three coasting ships immediately leaped ahead of their 
powered brethren. Then, the three icons separated and two of their number began 
to decelerate as well.  OnlyMercury Diablo continued on, velocity unabated.
 Good luck, Elizabeth.
Thanks, Sean. Well sweep the foldpoint clean for your arrival.
#
Lieutenant Elizabeth Esperanza was concerned, but not frightened. Whatever Bogey 
Seven Delta was, it maneuvered like a warship. That just made their task more 
interesting. She would be frightened later, after she had done her job.
Diablowas well aheadMercury Force , the result of rushing headlong for hours 
while they decelerated for the foldpoint. The speeders and destroyers were a 
diminishing formation of glowing drive flares in the rear viewscreen asDiablo 
continued its breakneck race across the system. Ahead, and closing fast, was the 
blip that was their quarry. It had held its course far longer than originally 
projected, and had just begun decelerating for the foldpoint at six gravities.
Engines with that capability didn't usually power ore freighters or grain 
barges. Those kind of legs generally meant that the vessel possessing them was a 
warship.
What do you suppose it is, Cas?
She could almost hear her sensor operator shrugging inside his tank. Could be 
anything from a message boat to a blastship, although from its flare spectrum, I 
would doubt we are up against anything larger than a destroyer.
Great. They are only four times our size instead of forty! At least, well have 
a fighting chance when we get there.
If we get there, Liz. Watch the time.
You worry about your sensors and Ill handle the piloting, Stinky.
On her screen, a chronometer display was clicking off the seconds to the moment 
when it would be their turn to begin deceleration. She was not looking forward 
to that. In order to cut off the bogey, they would be going in at twenty 
gravities, and even then, would not slow down to system escape velocity before 
they reached the foldpoint. It was going to be one quick shot and then a long 
ride to infinity unless a tanker caught up with them.
The fluid in which she floated would theoretically protect her up to hundreds of 
gravities. Technology had not yet caught up with science. In truth, the twenty 
gravity capability of the engines was also the physiological limit of the crew, 
and possibly a little above the limit. Twenty gees would cause damage and would 
prematurely age her  how much, she couldnt guess. Elizabeth didnt fear dying. 
Her nightmares came when she saw herself as a broken down old lady of 28.
However, as an ancient philosopher once said, No guts, no glory. So, Elizabeth 
willed the acceleration alarms to sound in each of the tanks and said, Okay, 
pull up your socks, people. Here we go!
With that, she ordered engines to full power. In seconds, her whole body was 
being squeezed as though in a vise. Her vision went gray and then cleared, as 
the pumps increased the internal pressure in her tank to compensate. However, 
there was blurriness to her peripheral vision that told her this condition was 
not good for her.
On the screen, the velocity display began to change with alarming rapidity and 
the range to target indicator slowed perceptibly. They were slowing at the last 
possible second. Already, the fuzzy red oval that marked the perimeter of the 
foldpoint was coming into view at the edge of the screen. On another edge was 
the icon that represented their enemy. It was closing on the foldpoint as well.
It was going to be close.
Damn it, he just fired missiles!
Defensive weapons online and free, she responded instinctively. Their quarry 
had been identified. They were facing a warship. Any guesses, Cas?
A destroyer for sure, Liz. Has to be. We have six vampires inbound. Anything 
smaller and they would have been hard pressed to fire half that at us in the 
first salvo.
What about a cruiser that just decided to swat the gnat?
Dont think so. Not when you consider the stakes we are playing for here. 
Whoever he is, he just spit out a maximum salvo.
She considered it and had to agree with him. This was no time for half measures. 
The fate of two sentient species depended on the outcome of this particular 
space race.
Return fire. Maximum salvo. Lets give him something to worry about.
Diablobucked six times as long-range missiles spit forth from her magazines, 
demonstrating the truly awesome ratio of armament to size that was standard for 
the specially built ships ofMercury Force .
The symbols on the screen showed the two clusters of missiles as they raced 
between ships. At the current range, it would take a minute for them to cross 
the gulf between combatants. When half that time had passed, Elizabeth ordered 
another volley, and was not surprised when the Ryall returned the fire. The 
second group of missiles would significantly complicate the job of the defensive 
computers. They would learn lessons from the destruction of the first volley and 
would adjust defenses accordingly. Modern space war is primarily a battle 
between computers, and a race to see which learns the quickest.
Mercury Diablobegan to accelerate erratically as the computer took over defense 
of the ship. Lasers flashed out invisibly in the vacuum, seeking out incoming 
missiles. Lasers are instantaneous weapons. If they can see a target, they can 
destroy it. Unfortunately, their effective range against armored missiles is 
damnably short.
 Ready third volley, she ordered when the missiles of both sides disappeared 
before they could reach their targets. The distance between the two ships was 
now down to 45 seconds travel time.
Liz! Weve got a ship appearing in the foldpoint!
Belay that last order! Target the new arrival with the third volley. Fire.
Again, the ship bucked as the missile ejectors expelled heavy spheres into space 
where their matter converter engines could safely drive them toward the enemy. 
When the third volley was away, she ordered, Ripple fire. Send everything we 
have at Bogey Seven Delta. Lets try to swamp him before he swamps us.
This time the speeder shuddered for a long time as they emptied their magazines. 
The Ryall ship also began continuous firing. It quickly became obvious that the 
destroyers magazines were larger thanDiablo s.
Evasive action. How long to the other target?
They should be getting there any sec On the screen, the newly arrived Ryall 
ship in the foldpoint exploded. Having jumped blind into a battle, they had not 
known what hit them.
Elizabeth turned her attention back to the problem at hand. The space between 
them and the bogey filled with ordnance andDiablo s defensive computer fired 
lasers as quickly as they recharged. The target was jinking and firing lasers.  
The good news was that they were slower at it thanDiablo . The bad news was that 
they had more lasers with which to work.
Suddenly, a million suns burst forth in the space between the two ships, 
effectively blinding them.
Premature burst, probably intentional, Lubo Casimir reported. Theyre trying 
to blind us.
Theyre doing a damn good job, Elizabeth responded. How much radiation 
exposure?
Well live, Bill Ames, the engineer reported, if we get help quickly enough.
Ten seconds to regain sensors. All right, I can see through the fireball again. 
Enemy ship is destroyed. I repeat, enemy is destroyed!
What happened?
Apparently, one of our missiles got through. All I can see is an expanding 
cloud of plasma.
Then lets get out of here! Engines to power. Run the tanks dry if you have 
Elizabeth Esperanzas order was cut off in mid-sentence when the nuclear-tipped 
Ryall missile that had been shielded by the mid-space detonation impactedDiablo 
s engine module. In a dozen nanoseconds, far too quickly for human senses to 
detect, the speeder and four human souls ceased to exist. The Ryall had just 
drawn first blood.
However, by any measure, the battle had to be judged a decisive human victory.
#
 
Chapter 8
Rear Admiral Achille Poledoris, Terrestrial Space Navy, gazed at the planet on 
the main viewscreen and felt a twinge of homesickness. White bands of cloud 
circled the girth of a blue sphere dotted with green-brown landmasses. The seas 
of Dogpatch were shallower than those of Earth, giving it a beautiful aquamarine 
color around the larger continent, which shaded abruptly to azure at the 
continental shelf. The sea was dotted with chains of islands that bespoke a 
volcanic heritage, including linear wisps of smoke that streamed downwind from 
several active island peaks. From space, the Ryall agricultural world was 
lovely, but then, so were most terrestrial worlds.
Poledoriss problem was that the view from space was not going to remain lovely 
for very long. Poor Dogpatch would likely suffer significant collateral damage 
in the next few hours, the result of the fleet action that was about to 
commence. The planets big Luna-like moon would be the center of the action, but 
of course, any planetary defenses would also have to be neutralized.
Even now, he could see the Ryall defenses gearing up for action on his tactical 
screens. Megawatts of energy were streaming skyward from both planet and moon to 
paint the approaching human ships and determine their composition. Likewise, 
large light-amplified telescopes were undoubtedly tracking their progress from 
out of Carratyl, the system primary, attempting to analyze their propulsive 
efficiency by observing the spectra of the fleets photon drives.
Poledoriss people were doing precisely the same thing to the Ryall defenders. 
Powerful telescopesscrutinizedwerefocusedon the Ryall moon, searching out the 
secrets of the naval base there. Intelligence classified the base asa relatively 
weakone, but with sufficient powertothatitcould launch interdiction raids 
against supply convoystraveling between Eulysta and en route toSpica. That 
meantthat it would have to be, in the polite parlance of war, neutralized. 
Whether the planet would also be occupied was one of the decisions for which 
Poledoris was responsible.
Around him were the twelveTerrestrial Space Navy ships of his command. In 
addition to the BlastshipArchernar , he commanded the CruisersSaratoga 
andBrindisi , the DestroyersAchmed Khan ,Irving Kirschner ,General Murphy , 
andTagaki , and four tankers. The twelfth ship in his fleet was a converted 
freighter, theMax Planck , and the most dangerous craft in the formation. For 
aboard thePlanck was a cargo of more than fifty thousand long-range missiles and 
other armament.
ThePlanck was a dual-purpose craft. Its primary function was to rearm the 
warships whenever they ran low on ammunition, but it was equipped with launchers 
of its own, and could act as an attack carrier. An attack carrier was the one 
ship that could overcome even the heaviestof planetary defenses. It did so 
bythesimpleexpedientfilling the enemys sky with enough ordnance 
oflaunchingenoughlong-rangeordnance to swampany defensethedefenses .
The Ryall hadlast used the tactic at the Battle of Sandar, where a mixed 
Sandarian-Altan force had beaten off the attack, barely. Poledoris had studied 
that campaign and knew how lucky the defenders were that day. They had managed 
to knock out the Ryall attack carriers before they could begin launchingtheir 
missiles. Had those ships filled space with their swarms of death, it is 
doubtful that the Sandarians would have made up a portion of Strike Force Spica 
today. It was as a defense against attack carriers that the two foldpoints in 
the Sol system were so heavily defended. Letting one of those monsters loose 
near Earth was a nightmare too horrible to contemplate.
 Admiral,Khan reports that the moon is launching more interceptors. These 
appear to be single-seat orbital fighters.
 How many, Tactical?
Two dozen, sir.
Any action from the planet?
No, sir. All quiet there. They are scanning us, but are not taking offensive 
action.
They will. Those sensor beams indicate an active planetary defense. Tell all 
captains to be on the watch for heavy lasers and other close-in defenses. Full 
countermeasures the moment they open up. Limit counter fire to laser-initiated 
fusion weapons. We dont want to dust real estate we may be occupying.
Yes, sir. I have a report coming in from Fleet Command, sir. Its an action 
report from the foldpoint.
Read it to me.
It says thatMercury Force has secured the foldpoint. One casualty. A speeder 
was destroyed in the action.
Poledoris clamped his teeth together in a movement that made his jaw muscles 
bulge. That the news had been inevitable did nothing to soften the impact.
#
Planet coming in range. AllSs hips, cease acceleration. Cloud armor, now!
 Achille Poledoris felt his body surge into its restraints as drive-gravity 
evaporated around him. The next moment, his screens were enveloped in a 
glittering fog that quickly dissipated, save for an occasional sparkle on the 
screen as sunlight reflected off a random particle. The fog-and-clear cycle 
repeated a dozen times, until the sparkles were like a flock of fireflies around 
the ship.
The phenomenon was caused by the release of tons of microscopic particles into 
the surrounding vacuum. The particles were micron-size crystal prisms, specially 
coated until they were nearly 100% reflective in wavelengths ranging from the 
infrared to ultraviolet. Archernarwas the center of a rapidly expanding cloud of 
these tiny mirrors. Collectively, they thatcollectivelyformed the ships cloud 
armor. Virtually invisible, the reflective cloud was dense enough to 
effectively break up any laser beam that penetrated it, seriously degrading its 
power and coherence, hopefully to the point that the beam arrived little 
stronger than a bright searchlight. Failing that, the two-meter-thick ablative 
armor would explode outward and spew a much more dense cloud of particlesforth 
from the point of impingement, scattering the beam before it could punch through 
to the hull below.
Like all defensive systems, cloud armor had its drawbacks. Since the ships 
drive was photonic, the drive flare wasalsobrokenupandrr eflected at random by 
theprism cloudof particles. This had no effect on propulsion, but 
sincetheywerenottryingtofocusthedrivebeamonatargetjusttheoppositesincenoonewantedtodrillaholeinanothershiphalfasystemdistant. 
However,thereflected energycaused the hull temperature to increase. 
phenomenoncausedsignificantheatingofthehullsincethecloudreflectedanon-negligibleportionofthedriveenergybacktowardtheship. 
 Then there was the problem of acceleration. A ship under acceleration tended to 
leave its protective cloud behind, negating itsprimary protection againstthe 
heavy ground-based lasers.that were just now coming into range. Thus, tTo remain 
within the cloud ofmirrored particles, the shiphad tomustshut down its main 
enginescease thrusting , which in turn causeditsownother problems
Report, Poledoris ordered.
All ships report clouds at effective density, Admiral, a defense systems 
operator responded. KhanandKirschner both report that they are under attack 
from the Planetary Defense Center on the main continent.
On the screen, a bright green star suddenly winked into existence on a peninsula 
jutting out into an azure sea at the edge of Dogpatchs largest continent. 
Poledoris did not need to see the sudden clouds of steam rising from the ocean 
to know that they were there. It required a lot of energy to deliver a beam 
powerful enough to damage a ship at the range of a million kilometers. That 
energy had to be dumped somewhere as waste heat. For the same reason, most human 
Planetary Defense Centers were also located near a coastline.
Have them reply with missiles. One megaton warheads at one minute intervals 
until they knock that damn place out.
Khanacknowledges and has the first missile away. Kirschneracknowledges and is 
firing now.
Poledoris heard the acknowledgement, but did not reply. Already, his mind had 
moved on to other problems. He would like to have stayed clear of Dogpatchs 
PDCs altogether, but orbital mechanicshad made that impossible. The fleet had 
materialized in the foldpoint from Eulysta, which was currently on the opposite 
side of Carratylfrom Dogpatch. ThatmeantHisthatTtaskFf orceCarratyl had executed 
a sun-grazing maneuver en route to the planet. 
,andwasnowcrossingDogpatchsorbittoreachthebigmoonthatwastheirtarget. The phase 
of their target moonwas nearing full in Dogpatchs sky, wasnearingfull,which 
placed it beyondhindthe planet. Thatrequiredmeantthat the fleethad to sweep 
close bythe planet to get to their objective.Dogpatch to reach its target.  Any 
otherangleof approach would have added days to their maneuvering time.
Weve got ships coming up from the planet to meet us.
Warships?
No, sir. Their drive flares and acceleration rates make them freighters.
No doubt armed with every missile the Ryall can scrape up. Log them as attack 
carriers and assignSaratoga to take them out.
Saratogas captain acknowledges, Admiral. He is moving into firing position. 
Correction. Saratogahas been holed by a PDC laser. Two sections are open to 
space. No report on casualties.
Poledoris uttered a curse under his breath. Sarawas his most powerful ship 
afterArchernar . If she were badly damaged, it would cut his combat strength 
significantly.
AskKhan why they havent taken care of that bastard, yet.
Khanreports an explosion at the PDCs location. Spectrum indicates one of our 
torpedoes got through.
HaveKirschner lob in a couple of more. Shake them up. TellKhan , well done!
Kirschneracknowledges the order.
SendBrindisi after the attack carriers.
Brindisiacknowledges and is preparing to attack.
The ensuing battle was mercifully short. The Battle CruiserBrindisi emerged from 
its anti-laser cloud, moved into position, and then launched missiles against 
the two red pips moving away from the planet. First one blinked out of 
existence, then another. On the screen, another bright green point appeared. 
This was a secondary laser battery. A minute later, the green spark turned 
momentarily violet as a missile found its mark, and the laser shut off.
Who was that? Poledoris asked.
Kirschner, Admiral.
Good shooting. Pass it on.
Damage report fromSaratoga , sir. They have power restored. Offensive 
capability is 80 percent.
Tell Captain Stewart to rejoin the formation. Brindisiwill take over the lead.
Acknowledged, Admiral.
On the screen, the fleet was a tight group of emerald icons that was approaching 
minimum distance from the planet. If the Ryall of Dogpatch were to give them 
trouble, this would be the moment.
Poledoris found himself holding his breath as they swept past perigee on their 
hyperbolic attack orbit and began drawing away from the planet. The range to 
target indicator ceased its mad downward cycle and began to climb once more. 
There was no further response from the planet.
That seems to have been it, Tactical reported after the range had been opening 
for five minutes.
What about the other PDC?
It is still below the horizon, Admiral.
Surely they have battle mirrors in orbit.
None obvious, sir.
The admiral nodded. A backwater planet, to be sure. It made little sense to 
build a ground-based defense center and then allow it to shoot only at things 
above its own horizon. An atmosphere-skimming attack would get a ship to within 
half a thousand kilometers of a ground target before it popped over that 
targets local horizon, by which time it would be far too late for them to do 
anything abut it. For full utility, a PDC needed to be paired with a 
constellation of orbiting battle mirrors.
Where Dogpatchs were, he did not know, but he was glad for their absence. Were 
he sure that they werent playing possum, he could order the fleet to maneuver 
rather than sit inertly inside their anti-laser cloud until they were out of 
range of the planetary defenses.
We have multiple missile launches from the planet, Admiral.
Too little, too late, he replied. He could see the golden sparks rising into 
space. With the fleet on the outbound leg of its attack orbit, no 
ground-launched interceptor was going to catch them in a stern chase.
 We have missiles inbound from the moon, Sensor One reported.
What class?
They look like Bravo-Sixes.
Admiral Poledoris nodded. Second line stuff. Just what you would expect from a 
backwater military base.
Interceptors are breaking lunar orbit and heading this way.
Destroyers to interdict. Intercept Plan Alpha. HaveMax Planck start its 
bombardment.
The admiral watched as his forces moved smoothly to carry out his orders and 
felt a slight lifting of the weight that had ridden on his shoulders since the 
start of the action. The Carratyl system was living up to the expectations of 
Naval Intelligence  a pleasant surprise in itself. Unless the lizards had 
something up their non-existent sleeves, the moon base was as good as 
neutralized. The only thing left to do was to tote up the butchers bill.
#
Chapter 9
Richard Drake lay in his acceleration couch and listened to the labored pounding 
of his pulse in his temples, along with all of the other noises that are present 
aboard a ship at high boost. Somewhere deep within the cylindrical core 
ofConqueror II , massive pumps were delivering liquid hydrogen to the engines, 
where it was being converted into an intense beam of pure light which drove the 
blastship toward its destiny.
The photon drive is the most efficient means of propelling a ship through space 
ever devised. In fact, it is the most efficient drive that is even theoretically 
possible. The drives efficiency, measured in terms of its specific impulse, 
derives from the fact that the mass of photon is a measure of its energy 
content and not its rest mass, of which it has none. Conqueror IIand her 
consorts propelled themselves with beams of light that were fifty thousand times 
more efficient than the engines of the first space shuttles. Despite their 
efficiency, however, photon drives were not without their problems.
The primary problem was thrust. The first truly efficient space drives had used 
beams of ions accelerated to near light speed by electric fields. And while 
these ion drives were hundreds of times more efficient than chemical rockets, 
their inherent thrust was never more than a few thousand dynes. Photon drives 
were even more efficient than ion thrusters, and with correspondingly low 
thrust. To overcome this deficiency,Conqueror II s engines had to spew forth 
trillions of photons every nanosecond, and even then, the ships maximum thrust 
was barely one standard gravity.
For high-speed runs like the one they were on, a stream of superheated hydrogen 
ions was introduced into the raging beam of light to augment the ships thrust. 
As a result, the massive warhorse gulped hydrogen at a rate approaching that of 
the early chemical rockets that were her distant ancestors. Luckily, hydrogenwai 
s the one elementofwhich the universe haoldsai nabundanceinexhaustible supply , 
and Strike Force Spica was accompanied by dozens of cryogen tankers.
The hum of the pumps was more sensed than felt, a barely discernible vibration 
that suffused the ship. Other noises were louder. There was the soft hum of the 
ventilators as they strained to drive denser air than normal through the ship, 
and the various clicks, whistles, and buzzes that have accompanied electronic 
displays since the beginning of the computer age. Then there was the subdued 
buzz of voices as the various technicians manned their duty stations despite the 
three times normal gravity that tugged at them. The mood aboardConqueror II , 
which had been tense in the minutes before and after the last foldspace 
transition, had settled down into one of dull routine, which was a source of 
never ending amazement to Drake. That the human animal can be bored and in 
mortal danger at the same time shows the resilience of the breed.
I have a report from Admiral Poledoris, Task Force Carratyl, sir.
Read it to me, he replied with difficulty beneath the weight of three men 
sitting on his chest.
 Mission accomplished. Dogpatch defenses neutralized, Lunar Base destroyed. One 
ship moderately damaged. Message ends.
Does he say which ship?
No, sir.
Very well. Keep me posted.
Drake settled into the soft cushions that had long since ceased to be 
comfortable and contemplated the news. One more worry eliminated. Intelligence 
had rated the Carratyl naval base as a minor one, with a limited defensive 
capability and virtually no offensive striking power. Of course, Intelligence 
had been wrong on occasion.  Not that Drake had been worried that they would 
stumble across the Ryall equivalent of the Rock of Gibraltar in this backward 
agricultural system. Still, it was nice to have ones opinions validated. It was 
not beyond the realm of possibility that a massive Ryall war fleet might have 
been visiting Carratyl, perhaps on the Ryall equivalent of a war bond drive. Or 
possibly, the lizards took their rest and relaxation lying in fields of alien 
grain, and the whole of the Ryall fleet might have been taking a break here in 
this system when human ships appeared.
Even the limited action that Achille Poledoris had fought at Dogpatch was more 
than Drake liked. The plan was to get as many ships as possible through to Spica 
without alerting the lizards. If they could do that, they stood a good chance of 
capturing the central foldpoints of the Ryall Hegemony. If they could not, then 
they stood a good chance of losing the war.
Although having things go perfectly to plan was a bit disconcerting. To quote an 
ancient maxim of warfare, When things are going precisely to plan, you are 
obviously walking into an ambush!
He failed to see how the steady advance of Strike Force Spica could be anything 
but good news for humanity. However, every force commander in history believed 
that same thing right up to the moment the trap closed on him. They had been in 
the Carratyl system for more than a week, and under high acceleration between 
foldpoints for most of that time. There had been little for him to do but lie in 
his acceleration couch and let his imagination run wild.
BehindConqueror II , the sky was alive with human ships and more arriving every 
hour. If this whole expedition proved to be a trap, humankind would pay dearly 
for falling into it. When it came time to jump to Spica, fully half the combined 
star fleet would be concentrated in this one out-of-the-way system. If the Ryall 
had laid an ambush, the situation could quickly turn desperate.
The destruction of much of humankinds star fleet here in Ryall space was not 
the worst thing that could happen, however. The nightmare scenario was that the 
Ryall, unaware of their own danger, would choose this particular time to launch 
a major thrust into human space. That both sides in a century-old war would 
attempt acoup de main at exactly the same moment was improbable, but not 
implausible. The history of warfare was replete with cases where victory had 
gone to the army that held a few hours advantage over its opponent. The Battle 
of Gettysburg in the American Civil War was but one example.
If the unthinkable happened, both invading forces would overwhelm defenses 
stripped bare by the offensive operations in progress. Both spear thrusts would 
likely drive deeply into the enemy heartlands and would rain destruction down on 
civilian populations. Such mutually assured destruction would be horrifically 
costly in terms of casualties and resources destroyed, and it would pose a 
conundrum for both sides. What does one do when notified that their home world 
is under attack? Does the fleet pull back and rush to the defense, or press the 
attack in the hope that the other side will break off operations and run for 
home first? What if neither side blinked?
Then there was the possibility that a Ryall thrust at the weakened defenses of 
human space would move too quickly for them to react. Drake had visions of his 
ships returning home from a successful operation to find their homes blasted 
into radioactive ruin. He could not help thinking of Bethany and little Ritchie 
lying dead in the rubble of Homeport while he was away laying similar waste to 
the Ryall home worlds.
He had been a soldier all of his life, although in a Navy that had not had an 
enemy to fight until six years ago. Until becoming a father (probably), he had 
not appreciated how much parenthood changed ones outlook. Suddenly, he wished 
that foldpoint between Alta and the rest of human space had never reopened. If 
the foldpoint were still closed, his people would be ignorant of the carnage 
among the stars ignorant, but safe.
He stretched to relieve the high-acceleration-induced depression that threatened 
to engulf him. It was a common psychological reaction that accompanied 
bone-weariness brought on by high gees. It was no less real for being 
artificially induced. It was a battle every man and woman in the fleet had to 
fight alone.
#
Bethany Drake awoke in the middle of the night. Her bedroom was dark and it took 
a moment for her to orient herself. Then the clamminess of her skin and the cold 
dampness of the sheets brought her back to reality. She lay there with racing 
heart and cold skin, and wondered what it was that had jolted her awake.
She listened for the cry of little Ritchie, who still faithfully announced the 
arrival of the 03:00 feeding each night. Instead of the quiet, stuttering sobs 
that presaged a steady, loud wail, there were only the night sounds of Homeport. 
She listened for a moment to the hoot-whistle of abilrobin , a colorful 
double-winged flying thing that made its home in the boughs of thetontin trees 
out front. The trees had been planted by Clarence Whitlow, her uncle, to 
celebrate her marriage to Richard, and he had squandered innumerable hours 
keeping them alive over the past six years. The native plants of Alta generally 
fared poorly when mixed with the imported earth forms that the earliest 
colonists had brought with them.
Nor did Bethany hear any other noises in the house. Whatever it had been that 
awakened her, it had left her covered in perspiration and breathing hard. She 
wondered if she had suffered another one of her recurring nightmares, although 
usually the memory of those was sharp and clear after they jolted her awake.
The basic dream was always the same, with only the details of the horror 
changing from night to night. She saw her husband on the bridge of his ship as 
she had seen him so many times on their twin expeditions together, first to New 
Providence and then through the nebula to Earth. In her dream, he was the 
strong, commanding figure she had fallen in love with.
Then, without warning, a Ryall torpedo struck the ship, which seemed to be his 
old command, the Altan cruiserDiscovery , rather than the new flagship. In her 
dream, she saw the nuclear tipped death plunge into tissue-thin hull plates and 
erupt in fire. The million-degree heat, which in reality would take only a 
microsecond, erupted in slow motion in her dream. She saw Richard frozen in 
time, his mouth open to issue a command, when the nuclear fire burst through the 
bulkhead and began its slow, inexorable way toward him. In her dream, he had 
time to turn and see the approach of death, and with it, the determination in 
his eyes turned to fear, then to anger, as though fate had robbed him of his 
destiny at the moment of his greatest success.
The dream always ended the same way, with Richards mouth open to scream, 
Noooooooooooooo! just as the fire reached him and his flesh began to melt. It 
was always at that point Bethany woke up.
The wifely premonition at the moment of her spouses death was a staple for 
holovision and bad romance fiction. In a universe where information was limited 
to the speed of light save through the foldpoints, and where relativity had 
repealed the laws of simultaneity, such premonitions had no possible basis in 
reality. There was no way for her to know when her husband died, no matter how 
much they loved one another.
That she could not remember the horror this time caused her even more discomfort 
than usual. Could it be that her fright was so great that her conscious mind 
would not hold it any longer? Recognizing that sleep would not soon come to her, 
and that the baby would need feeding within the hour, she slid from bed and 
pulled a nightgown around herself before stepping through the door onto the 
raised patio that adjoined her bedroom.
The house she and Richard had built was perched on one of the hills above 
Homeport. From it, they could see the lights of the city bisected by the broad 
band of the Tigris River. Antares was in the sky, and while not the 
electric-blue spark that it had been in the early days following the coming of 
the nova, it was bright enough to give competition to the larger of Altas 
moons. The double illumination caused the river to sparkle with a silver glow, 
much as it had that night so many years ago when she and Richard had taken a 
respite from their lovemaking to venture out into the night sky and talk about 
their future together. That had been the night she told him of her desire to be 
married on Earth, even though they had not known at the time that they would 
ever find it.
Find it they had, and rather than being the solution to all of their problems, 
it had only brought them years of hard work and danger. She wondered if she 
would ever feel safe again.
The problem was that two different instincts warred within her. One wanted the 
fighting to be over not next year, or next month, or even next week. She wanted 
it to be over NOW! Nor was she alone. The entire human race was sick unto death 
of war. If a cessation of hostilities could be arranged on the strength of 
wishing alone, the war would be over in the next nanosecond.
The second instinct was based higher in her brain. The first impulse was that of 
a frightened four-year-old girl inside of her screaming, Daddy, make it stop! 
The adult Bethany Drake, new mother, loving wife, and comparative historian, 
knew something of her species tendencies when its survival was threatened.
She feared not only for humanity, but also for their enemies.
#
Phillip Walkirk, heir-apparent to the Sandarian throne, lay in his acceleration 
couch and pondered his own problems. His peoples long history with the Ryall 
had earned the Sandarians a place of honor in the line of battle. TheSandarian 
Bb lastshipRoyal Avenger would lead their task force through the Carratyl-Spica 
foldpoint in the first wave, and would strike out to capture the Spica-Darthan 
foldpoint, the gateway to the capital world of the Ryall Hegemony.
It fell to Phillip, as tactical officer, to ensure that whatever ships and 
weapons came boiling out of that foldpoint while they were in the Spica System, 
did not break free. Not only was it his duty to ensure that the 
blockadeheldremained unbroken , it was his destiny. It was also a matter of 
personal honorwith Phillip. Tograbthefoldpointand holdthe foldpointit was what 
he and his shipmateshadwere pledgedto do, and that they would, even at the cost 
of their own lives.
Royal AvengertoConqueror II , Phillip said, we are in position and ready to 
jump. His voice sounded curiously dead inside the helmet of his vacuum armor. 
He and every other member of the Sandarian flagships crew were at battle 
stations, with suits sealed and weapons hot.
Good to hear that, Commander, Richard replied from the Fleet Operations 
Center. Stand by a few minutes while we finish refueling the second wave. Like 
Phillip, the fleet commanders image was that of a regulation vacsuit helmet 
with only the name emblazoned above his visor to identify him.
Standing by, Admiral.
It was irregular to have the fleet commander and the heir 
apparenttothethroneofSandar acting as fleet communicators, but the occasion was 
special. Around Phillip hovered much of the naval power of the human race. In a 
few minutes, they would enter the heart of enemy territory and the element of 
surprise, assuming they still had it, would be lost forever. Whatever happened 
after they disappeared from this spot and reappeared in another nearly 100 
light-years distant, there would be no turning back. The Rubicon they were about 
to cross was as wide as the cosmos, in terms of both distance and repercussions.
As he lay in his couch and listened to the quiet preparations for battle, 
Phillip could not help think of all the friends he had lost over the years. 
There had been Bertie Simes, his roommate at the Royal Academy, killed in the 
abortive attack to break the Ryall blockade of the Aezer System ten years 
earlier. He could still hear Berties patient voice droning on as he helped 
thePhillipheirapparent sweat his way through hyperdimensional physics. There had 
been Sir Roger Peterson, Phillips first commanding officer, killed at the 
Battle of Sandar. There had been Niles Dracon, who had survived a dozen battles, 
only to fall victim to a training mission. These three and all the others who 
had died too young and too far away from their loved ones, all because two 
incompatible species had been thrown together by a cosmic catastrophe.
His reverie was interrupted by a gruff voice in the earphones of his vacuum 
armor. Report, Mr. Walkirk.
Weve been asked to hold, Admiral. Refueling of the second wave is still 
underway.
 How long is this hold?
Just a few minutes, sir.
Well they had better damned well hurry. If the Ryall know were here, every 
second could be important.
Yes, sir.
The commlink went dead as quickly as it had come alive. Admiral Sergei Fallon 
Gower,Seventh Viscount of Hallen Hall,commanded Task Force Darthan from his 
flagship,RSNS Royal Avenger . Phillip was glad to serve under him. In his 
opinion, Gower was the best admiral in the Sandarian navy.
The seconds turned slowly into minutes, until Drakes voice echoed on the All 
Hands circuit. Attention, All Ships. Refueling is complete. You may resume 
planned operations.
Phillip chinned his command link and said, Were clear to maneuver, Admiral.
Very well. Resume the countdown.
Task Force Darthan. All vessels, report status and readiness to jump.
In addition toRoyal Avenger and another dozen Royal Sandarian Navy cruisers and 
destroyers, there were ships from four other systems in Task Force Darthan. 
Included were the Alphan battle cruiserDiscovery , the Terrestrial Space Navy 
BlastshipKong Christian and her consorts, and a smattering of vessels from other 
worlds in human space. The fleet numbered some 60 fighting ships, with another 
20 auxiliaries  freighters, cryogen tankers, and tenders  accompanying them. 
Even at that strength, they were merely the down payment on the defensive globe 
they would build around the Spica-Darthan foldpoint.
When all ships had checked in, Phillip ordered them to slave their jump 
computers toRoyal Avenger s own. He checked their deployment on his status 
screen. Eighty gold sparks hovered in an irregular splotch of red haze, 
surrounded by some three hundred additional sparks just beyond the foldpoint 
boundary.
Task Force Darthan ready to jump, Admiral he said, then keyed for the command 
circuit and reported that same message to Richard Drake aboardConqueror II .
Both orders came back simultaneously. You may jump when ready.
Phillip sent the signal that would release the jump computers on all ships. 
Suddenly, his voice was replaced by a computer generated one.
All ships, prepare to jump. Two minute warning!
Phillip reached for his suit harness and pulled the straps tight. Around him, 
technicians and sensor operators did the same. The ride was about to get bumpy 
and no one wanted to be floating around loose should the ship suddenly switch 
from zero gravity to the varying accelerations of battle maneuvers.
One minute warning and counting. Attention All Ships, one minute to jump!
Suddenly, he felt globules of sweat begin to form on his forehead. In micro 
gravity, sweat has nowhere to go. It just clings toonesthe skin and surface 
tension causes it to spread out untilitthere is a thin sheen all overones 
facethe skin. Then, when the ship resumed acceleration, the sheet of liquid had 
a nasty tendency to end up in the eyes, where it burned and blinded.
Thirty seconds twenty ten
Admiral Gowers booming voice cut in on the automatic countdown. Attention All 
Hands. His Majesty expects victory. Prepare for jump!
Five four three two one jump!
#
 
Chapter 10
Galatan ofFar Seeker lay at his control station and absorbed the sensations of 
the ship around him. The far-off hum of the engines vibrated his tympanic 
membrane, as did the quiet hiss of the ventilators and the subdued sibilants of 
the crew. The slowly moving air carried with it the familiar taste of river 
rushes and the pungent odor-smell of pigments that had still not fully dried on 
the control room bulkhead. His oculars swept across the impressionistic displays 
that told him the health of his ship, where bright yellows outnumbered the 
dimmer colors of the high infrared. Galatan watched, listened, and let the 
molecules of life tingle his combined sense of taste/smell. He observed and knew 
contentment for the first time in recent memory. It was good to be in space 
again after a seeming eternity, first in the medical bays, and then with his 
ship in the orbital dockyards of Paraster. Both he andFar Seeker were again 
whole and hale, and ready to rejoin the hunt fortwo-leggedMonsterstwo-legged 
monsters .
Life could not have been better.
On its last patrol,Far Seeker had been ranging free through the System of the 
Red-Orange Sun when Guardians spread the alarm that Monsters were boiling 
through thestargatestargate . Many a valiant warrior had returned to the 
Ancestral Egg that day, but their sacrifice was not in vain. Those ships 
ofthePeopleThe Race not on guard duty had come to the aid of the hard-pressed 
defenders. The counterattack had been massive, and the Monsters, who had seemed 
on the verge of a breakout, were contained  barely. Toward the end, the two 
fleets had nearly been within ocular range as they poured destruction into each 
other. Slowly, the Monsters were thrown back. A rear guard of theirs had fought 
ruthlessly as ship after ship disappeared back through thestargatestargate . It 
had been near the end of the fight, when victory seemed assured, that an enemy 
torpedo detonated nearFar Seeker s hull.
The nuclear blast had been close enough to crumple tough hull plates as though 
they were eggshells thinned by summer heat. Twelve-cubed tail-lengths closer and 
the weapon would have vaporizedFar Seeker . As it was, fully two-thirds of the 
crew was either killed outright by the blast, or suffered injuries ranging from 
broken skeletal elements to radiation poisoning. Most of the latter victims had 
not survived their injuries.
Galatan himself had spent five cycles in a medical facility recovering from 
burns and loss of gray corpuscles in his blood. The enforced idleness as he lay 
on his stomach with legs, neck, and tail immobilized had given him time to think 
between bouts of nausea. Some of those thoughts had not been suitable to one of 
the warrior caste. Indeed, they had not been worthy of a member of The Race. 
That fact had not prevented them from floating freely from within that portion 
of his brain that predated intelligent thought.
These thoughts of mortality and what might have been were unworthy of a member 
of Galatans profession. A warrior was supposed to look death straight in the 
snout, unwavering and coolly calculating. He should not lay rigid in fright, 
like a grub hiding from a Swift Eater. Yet, that is precisely how Galatan had 
lain with his injured scales submerged in a regeneration tank. The fear had 
beaten in upon him like layers of mud oozing up to smother him. The medical 
technicians had assuredhimthat the reaction was normal, a response to having so 
much of his circulatory fluid damaged by radiation poisoning.
Galatan had known they spoke the truth, at least on the level where his 
consciousness lay. It was that part of him below the level of autonomous control 
that refused to listen to reason. A warrior, his inner self had proclaimed, must 
be fearless. After all, unlike the Monsters, among The Race, warriors were not 
trained. They were hatched.
Those Who Watched Over the Eggs had decided that he would be a warrior a few 
hundred heartbeats after the female whose egg he was had deposited him in the 
warm, wet sand. The demand for warriors had been insatiable since the first 
Monster starshipshad appeared in their skies. Special hormones were injected 
into his egg sac, hormones that triggered certain physiological changes in the 
newly laid hatchling. They improved his senses, gave him faster reaction times, 
and heightened his natural aggression. As is the case in most of life, however, 
these improvements were purchased at a price. Warrior caste hatchlings matured 
thirty percent faster than their worker caste counterparts, with life spans 
shortened by a comparable factor. The speed of maturation also left most 
warriors less mentally capable than the manager caste.
Galatan was one of the few warriors whose cerebral development had been normal, 
a fact that Those Who Raise The Young identified shortly after his egg hatched. 
After his quickness of mind was confirmed by test, he was placed on an 
accelerated training schedule. While his egg-mates learned their place as part 
of a fighting unit, he learned the art of command. Often during that rigorous 
training program, he lay on his bed of rushes at night and wondered what it 
would feel like to be a simple warrior, with no responsibilities other than his 
duties, and no weight of command on his dorsal scales.
It was a dream that had returned to haunt him many times while he waited for 
hismangled body to mend, and later, as he had supervised the repairs on his 
mangled ship. It was a dream that even now hovered just below the level of 
thinking.
Shipmaster.
Yes, Pelanau?
I have anomalous readings from the stargate.
Which one?
The Carratyl Gate, Shipmaster.
What do you see?
There are several ships in the gate and more appearing each heartbeat.
How many ships?
Two twelves, and increasing as we speak.
Galatan pressed long digits to controls and brought up the display on his 
command screen. Pelanau was right. There were numerous ships arriving in 
thestargatestargate . In fact, there seemed no end to them. Traffic ought not be 
so heavy from an agricultural world, unless this was a scheduled grain shipment. 
Why so many ships at once? It reminded him of the convoys they had devised in 
the System of the Red-Orange sun to keep the Monsters from raiding their supply 
vessels
At the thought of Monsters, Galatan flicked his tail in a nervous twitch and 
began configuring his screen for spectral analysis. It took only a dozen 
heartbeats to confirm his horrid suspicion. Another digit reached out and, 
suddenly, the dying scream of azanfish was echoing through the ship, catapulting 
every member of his crew automatically into hunting mode. Around him, tails 
stretched taut even as necks twisted to swivel snouts in his direction.
He keyed for the command circuit as soon as the alarm sound died away. Warriors 
ofSpace Eater . To your posts. Prepare for the hunt.
What is happening? Essenau, egg-mate to Pelanau, and his second in command, 
demanded from a small screen in front of him.
Monsters! We have Monsters in the Carratylstargatestargate . They are pouring 
out in more than fleet strength! The Race is in mortal danger! To your posts. We 
have a battle to fight!
#
Breakout complete, Admiral.
Very well, Miss Powell. Give me a status report on fleet disposition.
Lieutenant Enid Powell, one of the first Alphan women to graduate from the newly 
reconstituted Starfleet Academy at Homeport, was quiet for a moment while radar 
signals returned from their long journeys to probe surrounding space.
 We have two hundred and eight ships in the foldpoint, sir. The Sandarians 
appear to be forming up and moving off in the direction of the Darthan 
Foldpoint, accelerating at three standard gravities. Second Wave is still 
getting organized. No concerted movement yet.
Send an order for them to get their asses in gear!
Yes, sir.
What about the opposition?
No enemy craft within the foldpoint, sir. Computers have identified fifty-six 
Ryall ships in view. Most are aligned in what must be the regular shipping 
lanes. None are close to us.
Right. Show me Spica!
Spica, the central star of the Ryall Hegemony, was actually two stars. The 
larger was a B1 spectral-class blue-white sub-giant some seven times the 
diameter and 11 times more massive than Sol. Its companion, Alpha Virginis-B, 
was a B2 class dwarf with a mass of seven suns. The two stars were close enough 
that it took only four days for them to complete one complete circuit around 
their common center of gravity. Like long time lovers, the pair embraced one 
another with long spiral streamers of star stuff, turning two individual fusion 
furnaces into a complex couplet of glowing plasma. The smaller of the two was 
noticeably egg-shaped due to tidal stresses. Complicating the stellar dynamics 
further, Alpha Virginis-A was a short-period variable with an improbably short 
cycle of four hours.
The ultraviolet-laden sunlight, the solar flux variations due to the four-day 
orbital period of the star couplet, and the four-hour pulse rate of the system 
primary,all conspired to rob any planets in orbitaboutthepair of any hope of 
life. If that werent sufficient, as a pair of profligate, blue-white stars, the 
Spicatwinspair had lifetimes measured in millions of years rather than billions 
 insufficient time for life to develop in even the best of environments.
Spicas worth was not as a nursery for life. Whatever planets orbited the two 
stars had environments that were surely lethal to unprotected human and Ryall 
alike. However, the concentration of 18 solar masses, along with the twisting of 
the fabric of space-time caused by the pairs high rotation rate, was nearly 
ideal for the formation of foldpoints. Where Antares, a much more massive, but 
far more diffuse star, had possessed only half a dozen foldpoints before going 
supernova, Spica was parent to eight foldpoints. Not only were there more 
foldpointsthan there had been in the Antares system, they were much closer to 
the central stars, which translated into inter-foldpoint transit times 
substantially shorter than was normal in human space.
This latter fact, namely that ships in transit spent only days moving from one 
foldpoint to another rather than the weeks required in most human-occupied 
systems, had long served the Ryall war effort. Assuming the invasion fleet could 
gain control of all eight foldpoints, the advantage would switch to humanity. 
Once they gained control of Spica, it would be the Ryall who would have to 
travel the long way round to launch their attacks. Humanity would be able to 
shift forces at will using interior lines of communication.
Beautiful, someone said over the command circuit as the stellar couplet came 
up on the screen. The solar flares were massive and complex, visibly flowing 
along lines of magnetic force. Gigatons of plasma in turbulent motion also 
produced a continuous background roar of radio noise that made communications 
circuits useless over a widerangearray of frequencies. Luckily, fleet 
communications did not require those particular frequencies  just one of the 
millions of details that had gone into preparing for this, the ultimate battle.
Gazing at the massive stars locked in their eternal dance; Drake was reminded of 
the surprise he had felt when they initially discovered that Spica was the 
linchpin star of the enemys home space. For, like all stars with ancient names, 
Spica was one of the brighteststars in the terrestrial sky  Number 17, in fact. 
For thousands of years, his ancestors had gazed up at Spica where it hovered low 
in the nighttime sky of summer, wondering what mysteries it hid. If only they 
had known, they would have been considerably less lyrical about it.
The ever-changing patterns of plasma around the star coupleton the main 
viewscreenwere hypnotizing. Drake found himself staring at it as he would stare 
into the flickering flames of a campfire while holding his wife close. He made a 
conscious effort to return his attention to the job at hand.
Report, Mr. Considine. Commander Jerome Considine was his tactical advisor.
The Sandarians are forming up nicely, sir. They are boosting for the Darthan 
foldpoint. Thesecond wave is beginning to move out of the foldpoint, Admiral. 
The third wave is arriving.
othersixgroupsaretakinglonger,butthey,too,arebeginningtomoveoutofthefoldpoint.
Anything onthe enemy shipping, yet?
We have three bogeys that may be military. One of them a probable, two 
possibleat the moment.
What are they doing?
Nothing aggressive, sir. Perhaps they are trying to figure out who we are.
They know who we are, Commander. Our drive flares began advertising our 
identity the moment they lit off.
Yes, sir. Then I would say they are spreading the alarm.
So would I. Lets see if we can do something about that. My compliments to the 
captain. Tell him to get this tub moving.
 Letsgettoourstationsowecansupportwhoeverreceivesthefirstattack.
 Aye aye, sir.
A minute later, the deep throbbing of the engines began again in Drakes 
temples, as weight returned to the ship. It was a gentle hand that pushed him 
down into the soft embrace of his acceleration couch. He savored the moment. 
That gentle hand would soon turn into the jaws of a steel vise that would 
attempt to crush him.
#
What ships do we have in the system, Falada?
We have three twelves of freighters, another twelve personnel transport, a few 
miscellaneous craft, and two other hunter craft, Shipmaster.
What hunter craft?
Far ReacherandHome Seas. 
Both of the third rank. Not much to work with in the face of the Monsters 
entire fleet. Show me the distribution of all of our ships.
The screen in front of Galatans lounging pad came alight, showing a schematic 
diagram of the Twin Suns, as The Race labeled the double star system that was 
the heart of their civilization. Around the island-symbols that 
werestargatestargate s lay a sprinkling of ship icons.
What ship is that? he asked, indicating a small glowing dot near the 
Darthanstargatestargate .
That isKeeper of the Kelp , a machinery transport en route from Darthan to Cor. 
It came through the stargate half a demi-cycle ago.
What is its velocity?
The sensor operator read off the value.
Too high. He will never turn around in time. What of this other?
The second point of light was an ore carrier inbound toward the home system. It 
was twice as far from the gate as the machinery transport, but at least it was 
moving in the proper direction.
TellMist of the Morning that he is to dump his cargo and make for 
thestargatestargate at maximum speed. Make sure that he understands that is a 
warrior-command and the fate of The Race is at stake.
Yes, shipmaster.
One by one, Galatan studied the tactical situation and picked a ship to carry 
the alarm through the stargates to the worlds beyond. In three cases, he picked 
two ships. As he worked, he was aware that the Monster fleet was breaking up. 
Not surprisingly, they seemed to be dividing into eight groups  seven to 
englobe the seven stargates other than the Carratyl gate and a large cluster of 
ships that seemed to have no particular destination. This, he knew, would be 
their reserve force. They would position themselvesat a central point where they 
could support any ofwherevertheywouldhaveapproximatelyequaltraveltimesto the 
englobedstargatestargate swhen the inevitable counterattack began.
 inordertobeavailabletoreinforcetheirblockadingforces.
As he watched the alien drive flareson his screen, he realized that he had never 
really appreciated the importance of the Twin Suns to civilization. This one 
systemwithitstwoclose-coupledstars was the crossroads through which virtually 
all tradepassedbetweenenroutetoandfromthe home worldspassed. Yet, here he was 
with the full might of the Monster fleetarrayed before 
himpouringthroughtheCarratylstargate and only three fighting craft were 
availableithwhichto defend the most important piece of vacuum in the universe. 
At the least, Those Who Rule should have ringedbothsidesof eachstargatestargate 
with a dozen heavy fortresses.
Shipmaster. Malan ofFar Reacher is signaling.
Send his signal to my station.
A screen lit to show a familiar, grizzled muzzle. Galatan, old friend. You have 
seen them, of course.
I have, Malan. Galatan then went on to explain the messages he had sent 
ordering the nearest ships to thestargatestargate s to spread the alarm.
Malan spread his ears in the expression of unspoken assent. I learned that when 
I got through to the shipmaster ofMist of the Morning . He was angry about the 
loss of his cargo.
I presume you emphasized the importance.
His fellow shipmaster emitted a rumble of mirth. When I finished with him, he 
was trying to crawl back into the egg.
Good.
How did the Monsters reach Carratyl?
I do not know, Galatan replied. To my knowledge, there is nostargatestargate 
between that system and Monster space.
It must have been a new gate created by that cursed Evil Star in their region.
Galatan signaled his agreement. Even though the light from theexploded supernova 
in Monster space had not yet reached any star system inhabited by The Race  
there had not yet been time  Those Who Observe the Skies had long known of it. 
They had postulated that an exploding star was responsible when alien starships 
first appeared in Home Space. C, and captured bipeds had confirmed their guess. 
It was easy to thinkof the stars deaththattheexplosionwaa s a long ago 
eventthat had no effect on the current generation. It was easy, but wrong. The 
truth was that tT he expanding nova shockwave was still wreaking havoc across 
the entire region, and would do so long after Galatan had returned to the Great 
Egg, even if he did so at the end of a long life  which did not seem at all 
likely.
Yet, somehow, the Monsters had gained access to a world that Galatan 
andthePeopleThe Race had long considered beyond their reach. A 
newstargatestargate must have formed somewhere beyond Carratyl.
What are we going to do, Old Friend? Malan asked.
Do?
Where will our lives best be spent to blunt this invasion?
It was a question that Galatan had been considering. As a warrior, he had sworn 
to defend The Race with his life. Indeed, that was the whole reason for his 
existence. As one descended from a million generations of hunters, and those who 
had tracked the Swift Eaters into their very lairs, he could do no less. Yet, 
his cycles in traction while his radiation burned body healed had made him 
introspective. Perhaps it was mere cowardice, but he did not see what benefit 
The Race would gain by his spending his own life and that of his ship in the 
current situation.
What is your fuel state? he asked.
Malan told him.
Not very much.
We are inbound for rest and refit. You?
Just out of dock, outbound.
Then you should lead the attack on the nearest group. We will support. Perhaps 
we can getHome Seas to join us.
I will not attack.
The shock in his old friends eyes was obvious.
We must! Malan replied. The Race is depending on us.
To what purpose? Can we last even a heartbeat against any of the groups now 
moving to englobe thestargatestargate s?
Are you suggesting that we turn tail and swim for safety?
No, Old Friend. I suggest that we expend our fuel to gain velocity in the 
direction of the Sky Dragon, he said, naming the most prominent constellation 
in the Darthan sky, and one still recognizable here in the Twin Suns.
That is away from the enemy.
It is, and if we gain enough velocity, they will not likely expend the energy 
to follow us.
You wish to run away?
I wish to remain alive to serve Those Who Rule when they smash their way 
through thestargatestargate s. They will be blind to what awaits them. By not 
throwing away our ships, we can give them vital tactical information when the 
time comes. It may be the difference between victory and defeat.
 I think you are rationalizing your cowardice, my friend.
Use your brain, Malan. We can attack now and be destroyed, or we can retreat,a 
bide our time, and be of use when Those Who Rule summon our fleet and break the 
blockade. At the least, we can save our ships for that fight. Do you want our 
fleet to attack blind?
It will attack blind whether we are here or not.
But we will be able to signal them as soon as they materialize in the gate. We 
can alert them to the Monsters disposition and their strength. That information 
alone would be worth the sacrifice of a sub-fleet.
Your injuries have clouded your mind. I suggest that you turn over command of 
your ship to your Shipmaster-Second and return to your soaking pool.
Galatan ruthlessly suppressed the anger  and shame  that Malans words 
produced. Do as you will, my old friend. My ship will begin boosting in the 
direction of the Sky Dragon immediately.
Goodbye, Shipmaster Galatan, Malan said formally, signifying his disapproval. 
My ship and I go to meet the enemy.
The abruptness with which the signal ended was as much a reproof as if Malan had 
snarled at him. Galatan felt a deep sadness with the thought that his friend was 
going to his death thinking ill of him. Every instinctinhisbody told him to join 
Malan in a death charge against the group headed for the Darthan gate. Only his 
intellect told him that it would be wrongto do so. He considered one last time 
what he should do, and then touched the control that would send his voice to 
every member of his crew. He opened his mouth to speak and found no sound would 
come out. He tried again
The order he gave was the most difficult of his entire life.
#
 
Chapter 11
BlastshipRoyal Avenger hovered motionless in space with every sensor at maximum 
and all weapons hot and ready to fire. Nearby, dozens of other ships did 
likewise. The mad dash across the system had been over for more than three days. 
Since they had arrived at the Spica-Darthan Foldpoint, all they could do was 
watch and wait, straining eyes and sensors into the blackness, waiting for the 
first sign of an enemy that was sure to come.
Suddenly, a distant pinpoint of actinic light burst forth from the blackness. 
Sensors reacted and warnings sounded, only to be quickly silenced. The tension 
in the Combat Information Center was palpable until a voice quietly 
announced,Thruster!  The big compartment was too large for the collective 
sighs of the duty crew to be audible, but there was no mistaking the sudden 
slumping of shoulders as a dozen crewmen resumed breathing.
Somewhere in front of them, another member of their flotilla had just fired a 
station-keeping thruster to kill the slow drift caused by the gravitational pull 
of the blue-white stellar couplet half a billion kilometers below. That the 
quick burst of white-hot plasma had been seen at all was an indication of the 
sensitivity to which the sensors were tuned. That it had caused such a 
reactionamong the human watcherswas an indication of how taut everyones nerves 
were strung.
Damn it, Your Highness. Why dont they come?
Patience, Phillip Walkirk counseled the jittery spacer at the next station. 
The pimple-faced boy was barely out of training camp and on his first combat 
cruise. Theyll be here soon enough.
But what the hell is keeping them?  Uh, sorry about the profanity, sir.
Phillip smiled inwardly. It was a reaction with which he was all too familiar. 
When crewmen discovered that their commander was also heir to the throne, they 
generally reacted as though they had been caught at a state dinner without their 
pants. It usually took a few weeks for them to settle down and treat him as they 
would anyother officer. He decided that it was time to alleviate the tension, 
not only of this Sandarian farm boy, but also of several others within earshot, 
some of whom were veterans who should have known better.
Theyll be here soon enough, Simon, he answered louder than necessary, using 
Spacer Cadwalladers first name to put him at ease  at least as at ease as it 
is possible to be while waiting to be killed. Remember, that star system beyond 
the foldpoint is as large as our own Hellsgate, and it has an even larger 
collection of planets. First, they have to receive the warnings, then they have 
to decide what to do about them, then they have to assemble the ships, possibly 
calling in reinforcements from the other two systems on this particular 
foldspace string. That takes time. Even if they have the ships on hand, the 
Darthan-Spica foldpoint is a couple of billion kilometers above their star. It 
is not easy to get to. That will take time as well.
Phillip paused and noticed several faces turned in his direction from the 
surrounding computer stations. Good. Nothing calmed an enlisted man or womans 
fears faster than listening to someone recount a list of the enemys problems. 
Frankly, I hope they take all of the time they need. I wont mind if they wait 
until the orbital fortresses come up to join us. They must have made it through 
the nebula and are halfway across the Eulysta System by now.
There was a general nodding of heads. The invasion fleet of which they were part 
was one of the most powerful humanity had ever assembled, but the full six 
hundred ships on station and the equal number making their way in this 
directionat best speedwould have trouble forcing a foldpoint guarded by orbital 
fortresses. Some of those big metal planetoids carried weapons to rival those 
found in a Planetary Defense Center.
Every man and woman in the fleet would have liked to have the orbital fortresses 
in their vanguard when they attacked Spica. However, the mad dash across three 
Ryall star systemsthat gave them the element of surprisehad made that 
impossible. Most fortresses were capable of accelerations ranging up to a 
quarter-gravity, and possessed an ability to maneuver that could be charitably 
described as lumbering. Any fleet that waited on them would arrive to find the 
Ryall aware of their approach and in full strength.
The long days at high accelerationthat had characterized the invasion so farhad 
ended whenRoyal Avenger and her charges decelerated to take up 
stationatallthepointsofthecelestialsphere around the egg-shaped foldpoint 
leading to the Ryall home world. Theyhad spent their first several hours on 
station seeding the foldpoint with antimatter mines  short range, 
high-acceleration torpedoes that would attack anynearby Ryall vessel the moment 
it materialized. After that, they had begun their vigil.
So far, the invasion had actually gone better than planned. Only two Ryall ships 
had attacked the invasion fleet while it was en route to blockade stations, and 
neither closed to weapons range beforebeing destroyed.they had been vaporized.  
A third ship, tentatively identified as military, had uncharacteristically 
turned tail and run. Even now, it was moving away at a velocity that would make 
it difficult to catch. Numerous other craft, tentatively identified as 
freighters, were also withdrawing from the scene of battle, although at a much 
slower pace. All of these would eventually need to be gathered in, 
butatthemoment, thattaskwas low on thecurrent list of priorities. They would 
sweep up the stragglers when their hold on the system was more secure.
.
Six other task forces had reached the remaining Spican foldpoints and englobed 
them, the last only twelve hours previous. Task Force Ssoltass deploymenthad 
beenwas interrupted by the sudden arrival of three Ryall ships in the 
Spica-Ssoltas foldpoint. There had been no time to ascertain  Wwhether those 
three were warships or merely luckless travelers.  wasnotdiscoveredbeforeaAll 
three flashed into plasma seconds after arrival.
In Phillips opinion, it had all been too easy to this point. Although an 
adherent of the Sandarian state religion  as the next head of the Sandarian 
High Church, he had to be  like most spacers, he had his own set of 
superstitions. He firmly believedthat the gods of war eventually balanced 
accounts, and the ease with which they had captured Spica could only foreshadow 
a series of terrible battle to come.
Even as he attempted to calm Simon Cadwalladers fears, inside him, a small, 
frightened boy was asking,When will they come?
#
I relieve you, Your Highness.
Phillip glanced up from the hourly report he was composing for fleet command, 
startled at the sudden voice in his ear. He noticed Commander Salton Connors, 
officer in command ofC.I.C next watch, hovering over him. He glanced at his 
chronometer and discovered that Connors was fifteen minutes early.
Youre fifteen minutes early, Sal. Whats the matter? Environmental system go 
haywire in your cabin and you couldnt sleep?
Admiral Gower wants to see you.
Right now?
Right now.
Did he say what it was about?
Well,Yy ourhH ighness, Connors began in an exaggerated West Glacier drawl, I 
dont really think its my place to quiz the admiral when he says that he wants 
me to relieve an officer and tell that same officer to get his butt to the 
admirals cabin. I leave that privilege to you quality folk.
Very well,Commander Connors, Phillip said with mock formality. I stand 
relieved.
 andwillseewhattheadmiralwantsjustassoonasItransmitthisreport.
Connors watched as he touched theSEND icon. Anything for me before you go?
Nothing. The Number Three antimatter projector was displaying a warning fault 
when I came on duty. The crew is checking it out. Otherwise, everything is hot 
and ready to fire.
It had better be.
Phillip made his way down the same hatch through which Connors had entered and 
pulled himself along a series of barber poles to Admiral Gowers day cabin. 
The admirals booming voice ordered him to enter almost as quickly as he 
signaled.
Your Highness. Good of you to come. How is the crew?
Jittery, sir. They wish the action would start.
Me, too. This sitting and waiting can get on a persons nerves. Still, when the 
action does begin, we will all wish that theyd waited another month or three.
You wanted to see me, sir?
How would you like your own command, Your Highness?
Command, sir?
Thats what I said.
A combat vessel?
The Light CruiserQueen Julia . Her captain came down with the galloping crud 
during the speed run and the bastards just now reported himself on the sick 
list. Goddamned poor time to get sick, if you ask me. His exec is too 
inexperienced to fight the ship in case of battle.
Do you think Im ready for command, sir?
More ready than most men your age, Your Highness. Besides, you will command us 
all someday, if you live, and there is no time like the present to gain 
experience.
Then I accept, sir. Im flattered and grateful for your confidence in me.
Just keep that ship in fighting trim and my confidence will prove well founded.
How soon do I take command, sir?
How soon can you get to the Number Three Boat Bay?
Ten minutes. Ill stop by my cabin, stuff my extra uniforms and some underwear 
in a kit bag, and head straight there.
No need. I have had all of your belongings packed. They are in the scout that 
is waiting to take you now. No telling when the Ryall will come pouring through 
the foldpoint. I want you onboard and in control of that ship when they do.
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Walkirk steadied himself with one hand on an 
overhead pipe and executed a perfect groundside salute.
Admiral Gower, who was seat-belted into his workstation rack, returned one just 
as crisp. The old mans eyes gazed into those of his young protg.
Take care of yourself, Phillip. We are going to need a king after this war is 
over, and I dont want to be the one to tell your father that you wont be 
coming home.
You, too, Admiral. We need men like you to keep the beasties at bay.
#
Richard Drake was also nervous, although on a grander scale. Like virtually 
every other officer in the fleet, he could not believe how well operation had 
gone to date. In fact, things had gone so well that he wondered if he had 
overlooked something.
The one thing that he feared most was becoming overconfident. In battle as in 
most life situations, circumstances can change at the speed of light  and in 
this case, faster. He was reminded of all the commanders who had seen their 
brilliant, flawlessly executed plans fall apart because the enemy refused to 
cooperate. He could still remember the reedy voice of Captain Stuart, his 
military history professor at the Altan Naval Academy, as he lectured about a 
battle that, in its day, had been as daring as the raid on Spica.
 When the Japanese Imperial Fleet attacked the United States Pacific Fleet at 
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on December 7, 1941, Standard Calendar, they fully 
expected to lose half of their aircraft carriers you young midshipmen can read 
that blastship if it makes you more comfortable. They expected this because 
they were attacking an adversary with two orders of magnitude more resources 
than their small island nation.
To the Japanese surprise, they found the Americans asleep 
literally. Most of their naval personnel were intheir bunks below decks on a 
Sunday morning following a hard night of drinking and whoring. Many sailors died 
in thosesame bunks. The Japanese Naval Aviators sank virtually every capital 
ship then at anchorin the harborat a cost of 29 planes shot down, 55 pilots 
killed, and one midget submarine sunk.
The Japanese fleet then made good their escape. Can anyone tell me what 
happened next?
Drake, who had seen an ancient movie about the event in his secondary school 
history class, had tentatively raised his hand.
Yes, Midshipman Drake?
I believe the Japanese lost the ensuing war, sir.
That they did. Can anyone tell me why?
There had been general silence in the classroom.
Because, my poor little midshipmen,they attacked a nation with two orders of 
magnitude more natural resources!  In fact, many maintain that the attack on 
Pearl Harbor was the greatest tactical success and strategic disaster in the 
history of warfare. What the Japanese imperialists forgot was that wars are won 
on the factory floor, and in the fields, and in the bellies of fusion power 
reactors. Which brings me to my lesson for the day: Never irritate an enemy 
with the power to squash you like a bug!
 Never irritate an enemy with the power to squash you like a bug! Those words 
echoed in Drakes ears.
That he had irritated the Ryall was not in dispute. Now they were waiting to 
discover how much power they could bring to bear.
They had done all they could to strengthen the defense. They had seeded seven 
foldpoints with 70,000 antimatter mines. Seven task forces clustered around 
their seven foldpoints, ready to pour laser, antimatter projector,and missile 
fire into any force that materialized in their sights.
The strength of the task forceswerehad been allocated based on military 
intelligences guess as to the strength of the star systems beyondhindthe 
foldpoints. The largest collection of ships was allotted to Sergei Gower and his 
Sandarians englobing the Spica-Darthan foldpoint. The second strongest force was 
assigned to the Spica-Talintan foldpoint, and so forth. Conqueror IIhad 80 ships 
around it, including the spare tankers and ammunition carriers. These were the 
reserve force, ready to support anyTask Forcefoldpoint as needed.
It should all work. In fact, the computers guaranteed that it would work  
assuming the Ryall cooperated and played their part. As he sat and pondered his 
distribution of forces, Richard could hear the silent voice of a long-dead 
Japanese admiral saying, It should work if the Americans play their part.
#
Ten-hut!
As PhillipWalkirk rounded the last turn to the airlock leading to Boat Bay 
Three, an honor guard ofthe Royal Sandarian Marines in battle armor sans helmets 
snapped to attention, their boots locked to the gridwork deck to keep them from 
floating away. He stopped and returned their salute, more awkwardly than in 
Admiral Gowers office. A dozen gauntleted hands snapped to rest position as the 
sergeant of Marines completed his salute.
Thank you for the honor, Sergeant. Do you give all officers this sort of 
sendoff when they go to a new duty station?
No, sir. We heard you wascomingen route and sort of organized this 
spontaneous-like.
I thank you, but I dont think now is the best time for you to be away from 
your posts.
No problem, sir. We are the damage control party for this section. Our post is 
right here. Thats why we are all in armor.
Very well. Have my pilots arrived?
Yes, sir. They are inboard the scout, checking it out. Your kit is onboard, 
too.
Thank you. Carry on.
The curious Marines watched as he moved through the airlock and into the scout 
ship. Both his kit bag and his vacsuit were aboard. The suit was strapped into a 
seat as though it were a fellow passenger. He glanced at the helmet to make sure 
that it was indeed his  excited enlisted men had been known to make horrible 
mistakes when packing for others  and then proceeded forward to the pilot 
compartment. One of the pilots was aLl ieutenant Ff irstGg rade. The other was 
a young blonde woman, anEe nsign. Both looked very young.
Your passenger has arrived. You may launch when ready, he said as he strapped 
himself into the jump seat between the two.
Wouldnt you be more comfortable in the cabin, Your Highness, the Lieutenant 
asked with proper decorum.
I would be more comfortable where I can see out, Phillip replied.
Its orders, sir. Passengers are to ride in the cabin.
You cant make an exception for your future king?
The two gave each other a look that Phillip recognized from long experience.
Very well, Your Highness. Strap down and prepare for launch.
Two minutes later, the scout boathad shot from the side ofRoyal Avengerandwas 
intofree space.
As they made a sweeping turn around the ship, Phillip looked over the old 
blastship with affection. She had been his home off and on for five years and it 
seemed strange to be leaving her on the eve of battle. On the other hand, he had 
dreamed since entering the Royal Navy of a ship of his own, and though the 
circumstances were not what he had dreamed, he would take one any way he could 
get it.
Being a future king was one thing, and being the commander of a ship in battle 
was another. A king could be good or bad at his job. There were 
functionaries,and assistant functionaries, and assistant-assistant functionaries 
to isolate him from the consequences of his mistakes.
The commander of a ship in battle had no one. If he fought well and was lucky, 
he emerged victorious. Even if he were killed, those whose job it was to study 
battles would know whether he haddone his dutyfought well . If he were foolish, 
or unskilled in the art of command, tactics, or ship handling, then they would 
know that, too.
As one groomed for command since infancy, Phillip relished the opportunity to 
test himself against a standard that could not be finessed to make the heir to 
the throne look good. The coming battle would prove him a man worthy to rule, or 
it would prove that he was not. Either way, the interests of Sandar would be 
served.
Shall we take the direct route toQueen Julia , sir? the blonde ensign asked. 
Her voice carried a twinkle in it that told him she was joking. His new command 
was on the other side of the foldpoint, and any attempt to cross directly to her 
would undoubtedly draw the attention of an antimatter mine.
The roundabout orbit will be fine, Ensign.
Yes, Your Highness.
The engines coughed to life for a dozen seconds and the scarred hull ofRoyal 
Avenger fell astern. Over the next half hour, the engines popped numerous times 
as they skirted thefleetperiphery of the foldpoint , always being careful to 
stay outside the invisible surface along which the task force had deployed. All 
of the task forces weapons were pointed inward at the empty volume of space 
that defined the foldpoint. That would be no place for a scout boat if battle 
erupted during their crossing.
Despite his excitement, Phillip soon found the boats journey monotonous and 
drifted off to sleep. Secured as he was in the jump seat, his arms floated free 
in the bent-up position a human arm assumes when relaxed in micro gravity. At a 
gesture from his copilot, the lieutenant swiveled his head to look at the 
lightly snoring future king, then exchanged knowing smiles with her. After that, 
they kept their conversation to a minimum.
Half an hour later, the female copilot softly called out, Your Highness, wake 
up!
Phillip emitted a short snorting sound, and then straightened.
Were here, sir. TheresQueen Julia , she said, pointing.
Through the armor glass was a toy ship, a cylindrical design with a series of 
cylindrical fuel tanks around her waist. Forward were multiple bumps and 
openings that were the working end of the space cruiser  the particle beams, 
lasers, and missile launchers. Two large parabolic antennas pointed into the 
center of the foldpoint, and other clusters of sensors focused there as well.
Shes beautiful Phillip began, and then stopped with his mouth open. Far off 
in the black, something had exploded in a point of violet-white radiance. A 
second, and then half a dozen more quickly followed the first explosion. 
Suddenly, the empty vacuum seemed as full of firebugs as a winter night in the 
Royal arboretum.
The two pilots sat transfixed as ever more explosions lit the black sky across 
nearly the full hemisphere in front of them. What is it? the female copilot 
asked.
Antimatter mines! There are ships in the foldpoint. The Ryall attack has 
begun!
He opened his mouth to order them to get him to his ship when the universe was 
blotted out by a blast of actinic light.
Chapter 12
Richard Drake was in the shower when the alarms began aboardConqueror II, having 
just come off duty. He swore as he slipped legs still soaking wet into a 
shipsuit and fumbled to close the seams. Then it was feet into ship boots,andout 
the portal and hand over hand for theF.O.C.
Status report! he snapped as he belted himself into his acceleration chair in 
his personal duty stationhigh above the operations deck.high above the Fleet 
Operations Center. The Admirals aerie was known colloquially as The Tank,and 
from it,;he could command every ship within communications range.
The Ryall are probing the Darthan foldpoint, Lieutenant Commander Parkinson, 
his Chief of Staff, reportedfrom his station down on the operations deckover the 
command circuit. We had several dozen craft materialize simultaneously and they 
began spewing missiles in all directions. The mines whittled them down some and 
we returned fire. The survivors then disappeared again.
Drake nodded. Reconnaissance probe, all right. Did they do any damage?
They got in a lucky shot. Sandarian Light CruiserQueen Julia was hit. No report 
yet on casualties.
Damn!
Its begun, Admiral.
That it has. Alert all ships and all task forces to the action. Tell them to 
look for any signs of coordinated attacks. The Ryall may have a communications 
system we know nothing about. Get me Admiral Gower on the command line. What is 
the time delay between here and the Darthan foldpoint?
Twenty seconds each way, sir.
Slow, but workable. Let me know when you have him. Make the response code, if 
tactical situation permits. We dont want to jiggle his elbow at a critical 
moment.
Yes, sir.
It took two minutes, but eventually, the Sandarian admirals features were 
staring out of a command screen at Drake.
Report, Sergei.
There was an interminable delay, following which Gowers immobile features came 
to life and said, Forty-eight craft appeared in the foldpoint, Admiral. We 
destroyed thirty-seven before theycould rechargedtheir jump fields and beat it 
the hell back home. They spewed missiles and laser fire in all directions while 
they had the chance. They hit one of our cruisers. The ship is off the air, so 
wehave nocantgetany information on damage. Radar and visual sensors indicate 
thatQueen Julia is still there, but messed up pretty bad.
When Gower fell silent, Drake said, Sorry to hear that, Sergei. Still, it was 
inevitable that we would take casualties. Why the long face?
Again the wait. When the Sandarian admiral resumed his end of the conversation, 
it was with evident pain. Queen Julias captain came down sick. I gave the 
command to the Crown Prince. He left here an hour before the attackfor his new 
ship. He was scheduled to arriveaboardQueenJuliaabout the time she was hit.
It took a conscious effort for Drake to control his reaction. The thought of 
Phillip Walkirk dead left a cold chill on his skin. Still, hehad nodidnthave 
time to grieve. More pressing matters were at hand. Do what you can for that 
ship, Sergei, but tighten up your defenses first. If they are probing you, they 
probably have a full scale attack laid on.
Long wait, followed by, Aye aye, sir.
The screen went dark and Drake returned to his primary duty, which was worrying. 
Not for the first time he wished someone would invent a communication systemnot 
subject tothatdidnothavetheusual speed-of-light delay. Coordinating a battle 
that covered an entire star system would be a lot easier if he and his 
commanders could talk to one another in real time. Since the most resistance was 
expected at the Darthan Foldpoint, he had positioned the reserve force closer to 
that one than the others. Even so, at a range of six million kilometers, it took 
too long to react tosudden changes in the tactical situationlike this probing of 
their defenses. If he neededto reinforce Gower, the reserve force would take two 
days to get there, and 
ittwouldtaketwodaysforreinforcementtoreachtheembattledfoldpoint,andifhesentthemoffnow,inadvanceofthecomingattack,itwas 
just as likely that they would be required somewhere elsebefore they arrived.
Therefore, seventy ships would have to fend off whatever force the Ryall were 
about to throw at them. All Drakes force could do was mop up any Ryallships 
thatwho managed to break free of the foldpoint.
#
The scout boat bucked as though buffeted by strong winds and then began a slow 
yawto port. Along with the sound of hailstones, pounding their hull came the 
prolonged roar of attitude control thrusters as theyfoughtputahaltto the sudden 
rotation. In the control cabin, three sets of eyes struggled to see anything 
beyond the fuzzy green blob that danced in front of their retinas.
Whatever it had been, it had been close. Too damned close! Luckily, the optical 
coating on the outer surface of the armored windscreen had performed its 
function. Over the course of milliseconds, it had gone from perfectly clear to 
nearly opaque. AsfFast as it was,however, the sudden change had not been fast 
enough to prevent a sharp stabbing pain in their optic nerves.
What the hell happened? the male pilot asked.
Queen Juliatook a missile, Phillip replied as he blinked his eyes rapidly to 
clear them. Big globules of tears were forming in the corners, which did not 
help his ability to see. Either that or they took a near miss. Get on the radio 
and see how bad it is.
The female copilot began punching controls, cycling through the fleet 
frequencies not drowned out by the twin suns half a billion kilometers below 
them.
Nothing, Your Highness. Orders from fleet to tighten up the perimeter, but 
nothing fromQueen Julia herself.
All right  what the hell are your names?
Im Lieutenant Osmond Delson, sir. This is Ensign Tamara Mason.
All right, Delson. Keep her steady. Mason and I will get into our suits. When 
we are ready, the ensign will relieve you so that you can get into yours. I 
wantallof us buttoned up and vacuum tight inside ofthree minutes. After that, we 
will close with my ship and look for survivors. Questions?
There were none. The tone of command in Phillips voice ensured that there would 
not be. It was a tone he had learned from his father, and which had been 
reinforced by years of service in the Royal Navy. When everything is going to 
shit around you, he knew, it was importantthatfor the officer in chargetoatleast 
sound like he knew what he was doing.  If he alsoknew what he was doing, so much 
the better!
Phillip and Ensign Mason both arrowed through the rear hatch. Phillip moved to 
where his vacuum suit lounged like a paying passenger,totally unconcerned with 
the recent excitement. He unbuckled it, opened the clamshell hatch, and 
thenpivoted in midair.
doubledupinthecuriouspositionspacersusetoentertheirsuits. 
Itwasasthoughhehadbeenfrozeninmid-leapwhiletryingtotouchhistoes.
Donning a vacsuit in micro gravity is nearly impossible when the suit is not 
clamped down. He struggled with it anyway. He was still struggling when Ensign 
Mason, already in her own battle armor, came up behind him and held the suit 
steady while he slid his feet into the jointed metal legs. When he had the rear 
hatch closed and pressure integrity, he chinned the speaker control and said, 
Thanks.
Dont mention it, Your Highness. She continued forward, disappearing into the 
pilots compartment. Lieutenant Delson appeared a few seconds later and arrowed 
toward the scout ships suiting locker. He was back a minute later, encased in 
vacuum armor.
What next, sir?
Lets approach dead slow, just in case the point defenses are still online. 
Theyve been shaken up and no telling what mode theyre set in.
Right.
Delson disappeared forward, leaving Phillip in the passenger compartment. He 
would like to have followed the pilot, but this was one timewhenrr egulationshad 
to be obeyed. neededtobeenforced. The pilots compartment was too small for 
three people in vacuum armor to fit comfortably, andit wouldnot 
helpthelastthinghewantedtodowascause his chauffeursto be crowded during the 
approach.
anydifficulties.
Mostly he wanted to get to his ship, assuming that he still hadashipone . In 
commandAshipcaptainfor less than an hour, and already hisshipcommandhaha d been 
shot out from under him. Not a good omen, as his mother would say.
Masons voice echoed in his earphones. No sign that the point defense is 
active, Your Highness.
Then bring us along side. How does it look? he asked. The passenger 
compartment was windowless and the bulkhead viewscreen did not turn on when he 
activated it.
Bad, sir. The bow is crumpled in. We can see big rips in the outer hull. There 
are a couple of bodies floating free in space.
Suited bodies?
No, sirNegative.
 Theydonthavetheirsuitson.
He nodded. Not knowing how long they would have to wait for the Ryall to appear, 
the fleet had gone to Yellow Alert soon after englobing the foldpoint. That 
meant that they did not have to live in the uncomfortable, bulky suits. It also 
meant that they would take more casualties if the attack came without warning. 
In retrospect, Phillip thought, those spacers aboardQueen Julia now floating in 
vacuum would probably have preferred the discomfort.
One good thing about this situation  it was doubtful that anyone in the task 
force was currently lounging about in his or her shirtsleeves.
There were a series of thruster burps somewhere over his head and a tug of 
artificial gravity before Delson announced, Were alongside, sir.
Alongside, where?
Number Six Cargo Hatch. It looked to be the least damaged.
Very well, secure us totheQueen Julia , and then the two of you come back to 
give me a hand. Where are the medkits?
Second locker aft of the midships airlock, sir.
Right. Lets get started.
#
The scouts airlock cycled open in silence as soon as they spilled the air 
inside tospace  not wanting to take the time to pump it back into the tanks. 
The three of them were a tight fit, even more so when their suitshad puffed up 
around them as the air pressure dropped. As soon as the door opened, Phillips 
faceplate automatically darkened.
Sunlight in the Spica system bore a striking resemblance to that put out by an 
arc welder. It hurt his abused eyes even with the aid of the polarizer. A meter 
in front of him was the cargo hatch surrounded by the yellow-and-black striping 
that identified its function. Aware of the taste of bile in his mouth and the 
stink of dirty socks in his nostrils, Phillip extended his armored arm and 
pressed the switch plate to the right of the door. To his surprise, the plate 
turned from green to amber, indicating that the lock was functioning.
Good sign. It works.
A minute later, the outer door swung open to reveal the interior of the big 
cargo lock. Here, too, everything looked normal.
 Come on. Lets get inside, Phillip said. He and his two companions floated 
from the scout boats lock into the airlock of the larger ship. Lieutenant 
Delson pressed the inner control and the door closed as silently as it had 
opened. Everything happened in silence until a sudden rush of air buffeted their 
suits and the indicator light turned from amber to green. The inner airlock door 
swung open of its own accord.
There was air inside. That was obvious from the thick haze of smoke 
thatinstantly enveloped them. In micro gravity, smoke fillsedupthe whole volume 
availabletofor it. Thereiwa s no tendency to form a layer. Inside the airlock 
door floated two spacers whose necks were obviously broken, and a third writhing 
in pain. Thereasonwasobvious. Just above the bloody knee of his shipsuit 
protruded the jagged white end of his thighbone.
Mason, sedate him!
Yes, Your Highness.
Delson, with me.
The two of them pulled themselves to the main fore-and-aft passageway. They did 
not move very far forward before they encountered aclosednemergency doorsealed 
tight. A quick check of the telltales indicated that there was no air on the 
other side.
What now, sir?
We work our way aft to see if we can hook up with the survivors. Then we see 
what we can do about pulling this ship out of the line. Wed be a sitting duck 
if the Ryall hit us again.
What about Aft Control? They may be all right.
Right. Lead on.
Phillip followed the pilot as they made their way through corridors illuminated 
only by emergency lighting. Here and there, they saw figures moving through the 
haze or at the end of distant corridors. As they passed the big, vault-like door 
to the engineering spaces, Phillip poked his head inside. Thebig engine room 
held small clusters of vacsuited men whose helmets dangled at the ends of 
lanyards. They were working on thebigmassive engines,machines that drove the 
ship, apparently attempting to get them back online.
Finally, they reached the aft control room. There they 
foundtheshipsexecutiveofficerand half a dozen spacers. A few 
eithermonitoredingthefewsensor arrays, while most worked 
thatstilloperated,orelseworkingfeverishly to bring additional instruments 
online.
Whos in charge here? he demanded over his suit speaker.
A harried looking lieutenant straightened up from where he had been hunched over 
a display, his boots in hold down straps to keep him from floating away, and 
said, I am. Who are you?
Commander Phillip Walkirk, newly assigned C.O.
Oh, sorry, Your Highness. I didnt recognize you in the suit. Im Harvey 
Weintraub, Executive Officer and temporarily in command until your arrival.
What happened here, Mr. Weintraub?
We took one in the gullet, sir. One minute we were coolly picking off Ryall 
ships in our sector of responsibility, the next the deck comes up and smacks me 
in the face. Im afraid things get a little hazy after that.
What were you doing down here in Aft Control?
The captain abandoned sick bay as soon as the alarms sounded, sir. He sent me 
down here. He took charge of fighting the ship until until
Never mind. It was obvious the young man was on the verge of tears. 
Considering what he had been through and the number of friends he had just lost, 
Phillip didnot blame himat all. How many survivors?
I dont rightly know, sir.
Dont you think we need to find out?
Uh, yes sir. Just havent had timeto get organized. I thought it important that 
we get back on the air and contact fleet command. You understand, sir.
I understand completely. Which of these men arent doing something vital?
Spacers Garnet and Aviola, sir
Very well. Garnet, Aviola, you go with Lieutenant Delson and find Ensign Mason, 
who we left at Cargo Hatch Six, and the four of you sweep every part of this 
ship that holds air. Tell everyone you find to report to us here in Aft 
Controlas soon as they can get away. Then one of you get a count in engineering. 
They seemed to be organized in there.
Yes, sir.
Now move. Lieutenant Weintraub, lets see if we can get that radio working 
again. Admiral Gower needs to know that we arent all dead here.
#
Commander Walkirk fromQueen Julia for you, Admiral.
Patch him through!
Sergei Gower said a short prayer to whatever god ruled the battlefields of 
space. He understood the need for the heir to the Sandarian throne to risk his 
life like any other spacer in the Royal Navy, but he wasnt just anyother 
spacer. Gower dreaded having to compose a message of regret to His Majesty 
even more than he dreaded the Ryall fleet that would soon descend on them.
Your Highness, youre alive! he blurted out when Phillips static-speckled 
features appeared on his screen.
Yes, sir. We were approaching the ship when she was hit. Other than a few 
persistent spots dancing before my eyes, I suffered no injuries.
Not even radiation exposure?
No sir. We have checked our personal readings. They are well within safety 
margins. I didnt even need to wear my lead underwear today.
How is your ship?
A mess, sir. She is open to space everywhere forward of Bulkhead 50. The 
captain and the bridge crew are all dead. We have 65 survivors, of whom 40 can 
still function. The others are suffering a variety of contusions, burns, and 
broken bones. The doctor thinks that most of them will live. The exec is alive 
and now assisting me to get control of things.
Can you fight?
No, sir. Fire control is gone. Most of our missile launchers are knocked out of 
alignment, and we only have two operational lasers. Engines are back online and 
we can maneuver at maybe a quarter-gee. Request permission to pull this hulk out 
of the line as a hazard to navigation.
Permission granted, commander. Do you need any help from the rest of the 
fleet?
Not at this time, sir. We will make for the repair shipBrandywine to see if 
they can patch us together enough to get us operational again. Once we get the 
hull sealed, we ought to be able to do something useful, say like carry the 
mail the lighter packages, anyway.
All right, Commander. Pull well back from the foldpoint defense line. We dont 
want to mistakenly waste missiles on you. They cost money, you know. Good luck 
and report in periodically. Remember that I am still personally responsible to 
His Majesty for your safety.
Aye aye, sir.
The screen went dark and Gower opened a commlink to his communications officer. 
Send a flash message to the two ships flankingQueen Julia . She is pulling 
back, leaving a hole in the defenses. Have them close up and take over that 
quadrant.
Close up and coverQueen Julia s retreat. Aye aye, sir.
Gower sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. That was one less problem on his 
mind. Getting an injured cruiser back into service could take weeks, even with 
the services of a repair ship. It would be a good project for the young prince, 
teach him the value of hard work, and most importantly, keep him out of the line 
of fire for a while.
Feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Gower returned to 
reviewing the Ryall attack. He hoped that by analyzing the enemys tactics, he 
might be able to predict what they would try next.
The first anyone had realized that the enemy was in their midst had been when an 
antimatter minehad detonated in the center of the foldpoint. Apparently, one of 
the materializing Ryall craft had popped out almost on top of it and set off an 
explosion more quickly than the radar returns could bounce back from the targets 
that had not been there a millisecond earlier.
Four-dozen Ryall craft had appeared simultaneously in the foldpoint and 
immediately began spitting armament at the heavens. They had been dumping 
missiles so fast that he suspected they hadnt even preprogrammed them for a 
target. They just wanted to flood the volume of the foldpoint with ordnance 
before the carriers themselves were destroyed, and then rely on the missiles 
own targeting capability to seek out and destroy human ships. In one case, that 
tactic had proven effective.
One thing that the playback of the short, one-sided battle demonstrated, the 
intruding Ryall had not been large craft. In fact, they had all been about the 
size of human destroyer, or smaller. As Gower had diagnosed at the time it was 
happening, this was not a serious attempt to break free of the foldpoint. No, 
this had been a reconnaissance in force, an attempt to gage the degree to which 
the human fleet had fortified Spica.
Theyhad gottentheir answer at the cost of three-quarters of the attacking force, 
but had learned a great deal in the process. Presumably, the survivorswerehad 
been  able to count the number of blockading ships and get some estimate of 
their type. They knew about the antimatter mines and might be able to devise a 
countermeasure. Most importantly, they knew the tales of human invasion of Spica 
were true and would just be wakingupto the mortal danger that fact presented 
their civilization. The knowledge that they had a limited time to retake Spica 
would cause them to redouble their attacks. They would need to dislodge Gowers 
ships before humankind had time to bring up reinforcements. That meant that the 
real attack would not be long in coming.
Nor was it. Even as he thought the words, his communicator sounded an urgent 
warning, Somethings happening in the foldpoint, Admiral.
What?
We have a single bogey. Large. It just appeared. Two mines have attacked it and 
have been destroyed.
Tell all ships to fill the foldpoint with missiles, random seekers. Stand by to 
open fire with beam weapons. Put the bogey on the screen.
The view that appeared on the main viewscreen was of blackness. Gower could see 
nothing. Then, a bright light appeared at the point where radar painted the 
bogey. The light expandedintountilitwas a spherical shell of pure sunlight. It 
expanded and kept on expanding until it was impossibly large. Time slowed almost 
to a halt as Gower watched the shockwave race outward toward his ships. In the 
blink of an eye that seemed an eternity, the glowing ball of radiance dimmed and 
then dissipated well short of his command.
 Gower had seen this tactic before. He knew what was coming next!
#
 
Chapter 13
&nbsp;
Antimatter bomb!
The Ryall had opened the Battle of Sandar with the same tactic. The bomb did not 
use the fewmilli grams of antimatter contained in the mines with which human 
forces had dotted the foldpoint. Within its magnetic containment field was 
stored a ton or more of the volatile substance.
The antimatter bomb thathad touched off the Battle of Sandar had been 
devastatingly effective. It destroyed severalofthe ships guarding the foldpoint 
and blinded every sensor pointed toward thebombat detonation. That blindnesshad 
allowed the invading Ryall fleet to fight their way free of the foldpoint 
defenses and had very nearly cost Sandar its existence.
The bomb in the center of the Spica-Darthan foldpoint was intended to blind 
Gowers ships just as the one at Sandar had done. However, human engineers had 
not been sleeping. One of the highest priority projects during preparation for 
the invasion had been the development ofa sensorsthat 
wouldwithstandnotbeblindedby the radiance from a big antimatter bomb. Rather 
than being permanently disabledby the blast, the blockading fleets sensors were 
back online the instant theblast dissipated.radiance dimmed.
The Ryall were more successful in their secondary purpose. Within an enormous 
volume of space, the ravening shockwave of high-energy gamma rays vaporized 
everything from the occasional dust particlewith which space is suffused, to the 
antimatter mines that defended the foldpoint. The result was a clear void into 
which arriving Ryall ships could jump in relative safety.
When humanitys sensors came back online following the blast, they discovered 
the foldpoint alive with Ryall ships. There were at least 200 of them!
All Ships! Fire at will. Take the nearer ones first. The ones in the center 
will require a few minutes to clear the foldpoint.
Suddenly, black space was alive with Sandarian glow bugs. Five years in 
preparation had given the human fleet an offensive punch out of all proportion 
to its ships size or numbers. Laser beams flashed invisibly through vacuum to 
focus on the hulls of opposing ships. ,causinggGeysers of superheated plasmato 
leapedskyward in the wide dispersion cones characteristic ofan explosionsin 
vacuum. Most of these incandescent geysers were produced when ablative armor 
boiled furiously. Microscopic glass crystals in the armoroperatedto dispersedthe 
laser beams, momentarily reducing their punch. ,butonlymomentarily. However, aAs 
soon as the lasers punched through to hull metal beneath the armor, spectral 
analyzers recorded the sudden appearance of iron in the incandescent plumeasma, 
followed by oxygen and water vapor.
Nor were the Ryall ships passive targets in a cosmic shooting gallery. Lasers 
flashed outward as well as inward. Other holes were punched and other white-hot 
geysers erupted, this time from the outer shell of human ships. Sometimes there 
were other molecules in the superheated plasma, molecules that moments earlier 
had been living, breathing human beings.
On both sides, antimatter projectors sent their beams of particles forth at the 
speed of light. Electrically neutral atoms of antimatter hydrogen raced outward 
from the glowing mouths of projectors at nearlythe speed of lightspeed. They 
drilled a hole in space until they encountered the hull of a ship. When they 
did, not even the anti-radiation shielding that had allowed the fleet to 
traverse the Antares Nebula was effective. Anti-proton encountered normal proton 
and powerful gamma rays sprayed forth to destroy whatever they encountered in 
their path. Any living being caught in that deadly zone of invisible radiance 
died. Computers fared little better. No matter how well shielded, the sleeting 
radiation ate away at delicate memory circuits, just as it did to their organic 
counterparts.
Then there were the weapons of brute force  the nuclear tipped missiles. Every 
ship in both fleets recoiled from the continuous launches as exhaust plumes 
impinged on their hulls and eye-searing points of light raced away ontheir 
twisting, curving paths toward the enemy. Their kin from the opposing fleet 
intercepted most of these brutes in mid-flight. Still, some got through on both 
sides.
Although outnumbered, the human ships were able to hold their own against the 
invaders. In a foldpoint slugfest, the defender has certain inherent advantages. 
One of these is that they have time to prepare for battle and take up positions 
of mutual support.
The side that must arrive via foldspace jump is always at a severe 
disadvantagein this respect. No matter how carefully positioned a fleet is prior 
to a foldpoint transition, at the end of their jump, they find themselves 
scattered at random across the foldpoint. It takes precious seconds for the 
fleet commanders to comprehend where their ships are, and long minutes to flee 
the enemys killing zone within the foldpoint, minutes in which much of the 
fleet can be smashed.
Nor was their formation humanitys only advantage in the fight. In addition to 
sowing the foldpoint with antimatter mines, Gowers ships had dispersed 
thousands of decoys throughout their formations to confuse enemy sensors. The 
Ryall had no such luxury. Being newly arrived, they had not the time to spoof 
the enemy sensors, nor would it have done any good if they had. Since their 
primary job was to exit the foldpoint as quickly as possible, spewing decoys out 
into space would have done nothing save leave a trail of decoys in their wake to 
mark their passage.
Nor had the initial bomb destroyed all of the antimatter mines. Beyond the 
effective radius of thebomb blast, Ryall ships had as much as a one in ten 
chance of running into the small, high thrust weapons. More than once, Admiral 
Gower watched a Ryall ship, its lasers, projectors, and missile launchers 
blazing, suddenly disappear in a blast of atomic fire.
The carnage suffered by the invaders was lopsided for another reason, one that 
took Gower a moment to identify. Some of the Ryall craft were curiously 
quiescent. They accelerated for the foldpoint boundaries like their brethren, 
but they did not fire at the defenders. At first, he thought they were holding 
fire until they closed the range on the human fleet, but even those well within 
range seemed curiously pacific.
Understanding hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Attention all Ships. We have Trojan horses here. I repeat. Some of the ships 
are decoys to draw our fire. Attack anything that shoots at you. Hold fire on 
the others until you have nothing of higher priority.
Two hundred ships are a lot for one star system to scrape together in less than 
a week. However, once control of a foldpoint has been lost, regaining its 
possession is the highest priority. For an enemy in control of one of these 
chokepoints in space can only get stronger. Whatever commander had sent this 
fleet to attack Sergei Gowers task force had cheated a bit. He had gathered 
every warship within range, and had supplemented their numbers with noncombatant 
craft, the better to diffuse human fire. While the task force was dealing with 
the decoys, the real warships could concentrate on killing human vessels and 
escaping out into open space where they could maneuver.
Nor was the battle going all humanitys way. Within seconds of the antimatter 
bomb blast, one of the defenders on the opposite side of the foldpoint exploded. 
Then another, and another, and then two more. Gowers force killed far more 
Ryall ships than it lost, but they were paying a price for their victories. That 
price was sufficiently high that a weak spot appeared in their defensive globe.
We have breakout, Admiral! the tactical officer declared.
I see that. Tell the fleet to concentrate on the ships still in the foldpoint. 
Well let the chasers take care of any ships outside our lines.
Suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, the battle was over. There were no Ryall 
craft left in the foldpoint, at least none that were alive. In the confusion, 
some twenty had broken through the quadrant where once had been the Terrestrial 
Navy Heavy CruiserNeverwhen and the new Sandarian CruiserDuke Bardak . Now those 
two ships were expanding clouds of plasma, and with them, a thousand brave men 
and women. According to sensors, some of the Ryall vessels had jumped back to 
their own system. These had mostly been the non-combatant decoys, the commanders 
of which had risked their ships to sow confusion, and were now attempting to 
save them.
As adrenaline continued to pump through his veins, Sergei Gower surveyed the 
carnage and decided that he could claim a victory this time.
#
Gower was not the only one who watched the battle with interest. Far above 
Spica, another pair of eyes noted the white flash of an antimatter bomb in the 
Darthanstargatestargate and the subsequent lightning flashes of the deadly 
conflict that erupted in its wake. Galatan ofFar Seeker felt a surge of 
excitement as the hoped-for counterattack of The Race began. Those few minutes 
of titanic violence in thestargatestargate were the only moments of hope he had 
experienced for many cycles.
Galatan had not been sleeping well. Nor eating. Nor even existing. Every gland 
in his body had rebelled against the decision to avoid battle with the Monsters. 
It was not in the nature of a Ryall warrior to flee from battle. In fact, it was 
the worst obscenity he could imagine. Had Matanar fled when his clan was 
attacked by packs of Swift Eaters? Had Borada given ground when the voracious 
monsters invaded his Septs breeding grounds? Neither of these legendary 
ancestors had turned away from battle. They had attacked without hesitation, and 
despite grievous wounds, had beaten back the ancestral foes of The Race.
What would future generations of hatchlings learn of Galatan? That when faced 
with an overwhelming force of the bipedal monsters, he had turned tail and swam 
away? The disgrace would be eternal. His name would be a cautionary tale for as 
long astheraceThe Race lived, just as Matanar and Borada were known to all even 
a thousand generations after their heroic deaths in battle.
Repulsed by what he had done, even his body had rebelled against him. Food would 
no longer stay put in his upper stomach sack, nor would his raging hormones 
allow him to sleep. As a result, his scales had taken on a deathly pallor and 
his eyes, once a healthy ebon, had turned gray. Even his joints ached, as though 
he were an elder who could do nothing but lie in the hot sand and dream of the 
conquests of youth.
The memory of what he had done seared his brain. At the sight of so many enemy 
craft in the central system of hisracepeople , he had wanted to send his ship 
hurtling into one of those tight little knots of vessels to wreak as much havoc 
as he could before being blasted from the skyfor the Glory ofthe Race. That is 
what Malan ofFar Reacher had done. It had been glorious to watch. Heedless of 
his own safety or that of his ship, Malan had broughtFar Reacher through a wide, 
sweeping turn and had taken aim at the group of Monster ships headed for the 
Darthan stargate.
Yet, glorious as the maneuver had been, it had also been for nothing. BeforeFar 
Reacher closed to weapons range, it had quietly disappeared in a flash of 
brilliance that emphasized the pointlessness of it all.
Despite his lack of appetite, his unhealthy complexion, and his insomnia, 
Galatans brain continued to tell him that he had done the right thing. AsFar 
Seeker continued to rise high above Spicas ecliptic, Galatans sensors had been 
busy. His warriors charted what they could of Monster forces, noting with 
depression that they seemed to have control of seven of the eight system 
stargates  the eighth being the gate through which the Monsters had arrived. 
Presumably, the Carratyl gate did not require guarding since the Monsters 
occupied the system beyond. This presumption was confirmed every period as more 
and more enemy ships poured throughtheCarratylgate to reinforce the Monster 
forces already here.
The Monsters formations appeared to have three basic functions. The largest 
formations were those that englobed thestargatestargate s. These were largely 
invisible now, submerged in a sea of decoys that confused Galatans sensors. 
They had been highly visible during their speed runs across the system. The 
strength of each group of blockading ships varied, and that fact 
depressedhimGalatannearly as much as the shame at having avoided battle. It was 
to be expected that the strongest blockade group had headed directly for the 
Darthan gate, but the other groups had each seemed sized properly as well. That 
the Monsters knew the relative strength of The Races forces behind each gate 
said that they possessed information to which they had no right.
A second formation of Monster ships hovered near each gate, but was separate 
from the ships on blockade duty. These seemed to be support craftfortheblockades 
- tankers, ammunition ships, foodstuffs and other consumables. However, a core 
of ships in these support groups were warcraft  judging from the spectra of 
their drive flares. These, Galatan realized, were the out swimmers. They would 
hunt down and attack any ship of The Race that managed to fight its way free of 
the ambuscades surrounding the gates.
Finally, there was a large formation on stationfar from any gate, but centrally 
located with respect to all of them.in mid-spaceat a point roughly equidistant 
from the star gates.  This was obviously the reserve force.
Having counted the Monster ships and cataloged them by type, he was now anxious 
to get this information to Those Who Rule. Hedid not knowknewnot how he would 
accomplish this, and that, too, burdened his mind. He had information vital to 
the defense of The Race and he could not get it to thosehe servedwho could use 
it . Or was the information as important as he thought? Perhaps he was merely 
rationalizing his decision to run. Were his current thoughts the result of 
wisdom, or merely his own cowardice speaking to him?
His emotions had been at their lowest ebb when fighting broke out in the Darthan 
stargate. 
HisemotionshadbeenattheirlowestebbwhenfightingbrokeoutintheDarthanstargate. 
Thefighthadnotlastedlong,justlongenoughtorechargejumpgenerators,infact. 
However,thatinitialprobe,obviouslyforpurposesofreconnaissance,hadbeenfollowedafewhundredheartbeatslaterbytheflashofanantimatterbomb. 
ThatflashhadsuffusedGalatanwithhopeandhewatchedtheensuingmeleewithpride.
His cabin had echoed with the sound of a long hunting whoop when some of the 
attacking warcraft broke through the Monster blockade. It was difficult to tell 
with all of the distractions of battle, but it appeared that a twelve or more of 
The Races ships made good their escape.
Happier than he had been in days, Galatan signaled for the warrior on duty in 
the control sphere.
Yes, shipmaster?
Have you been watching the battle?
Yes, shipmaster.
Begin plotting a course that will allow us to join our fleet with minimum fuel 
expenditure. We will send Those Who Command our information and then rejoin the 
battle.
Yes, shipmaster. It shall be done!
#
Officer to see you, Admiral!
Drake glanced up from the screen before him. Inset into the hatch to his space 
cabin was another screen. On it were the features of the Marine who guarded his 
door and kept unwelcome visitors from disturbing him. Something in the Marines 
manner told him that he would not have done so now had this merely been a casual 
interruption.
What officer, Yablonski?
Commander Walkirk,Royal SandarianRoyalNavy, sir.
Send him in!
The hatch slid silently back into its recess, revealing the vacsuited figure of 
Corporal Lubo Yablonski, his helmet and riot gun both floating in front of him 
at the end of their short tethers, within easy reach. Behind him floated Phillip 
Walkirk, looking much less dapper than the last time Drake had seen him. The 
princes uniform was rumpled, he was in need of a shave, and his eyes were 
sunken and had dark bags under them.
Despite his appearance, the heir to the Sandarian throne executed a flawless 
zero gravity entrance into the presence of a superior officer. He pulled himself 
along the handholds inset into the overhead and then used his arms to rotate his 
body into a semblance of an upright position. He even managed a salute while 
holding himself braced between overhead and deck.
Drake, who was seat belted to his desk, returned the salute even though that was 
not the custom in the Altan Navy.
Your Highness, sit down and relax. You look like its been awhile since you 
slept.
Thank you, Sir. That it has.
I hear you have your own ship now. Congratulations!
Thank you, Admiral. Shes a fine ship, save for the fact that just about 
everything is gone forward of Bulkhead Fifty.
And your crew?
Most are in shock at the loss of friends and messmates. The good news is that 
they arent brooding. They havent had the time. Everyone worked eighteen hours 
a day to patch things up on the orbit in. Now that we have the services of an 
orbital repair ship, we hope to get her spaceworthy enough that we can limp to a 
real orbital shipyard.
Then you plan to takeQueen Julia to Corlis?
About the only thing I can do, Admiral.
One of Admiral Beltons highest priorities was to moveoneormoreseveral  of the 
big space docks from human space to Corlis orbit in order to repair battle 
damage and get vessels back into the fightas quickly as possible. In his reply 
to Drakes last status report, the admiral had reported that the first dock was 
nearly ready to receive customers.
Its not the only thing you can do. Im sure Sergei Gower would assign another 
captain if you asked.
Not on your life, Admiral. I have a ship of my own and I plan to keep it.
Surely the heir to the throne can expect command of a Royal Navy vessel 
relatively early in his career.
Of course. And you know just what sort of a ship it will be. Nothing too small 
or too large, a corvette or a destroyer, perhaps. The crew will be handpicked by 
the Admiralty, which means by my father. They will all be exceptionally 
competent fellows and every one of them will report directly back to my fathers 
ministers. Hell, if I even fart on the bridge, the Council of Ministers will 
know what it smells like before the purifiers have a chance to scrub the air 
clean.
No, I have a ship... a real ship with a real crew that needs me. Damaged though 
she may be, I would not trade her for the biggest blastship in the fleet. Even 
the crew is starting to forget that I am crown prince. Working alongside a man 
until you can barely stay awake will do that for you, you know.
That it will, Drake agreed, nodding. He remembered a few cruises of his own 
that had been like that. You gave both me and Admiral Gower a fright when the 
report came in thatQueen Julia had been damaged. How close were you when the 
missile exploded?
Not close enough to worry the court physician about the future quality of 
theRoyalroyal sperm, sir; but closer than I ever care to be to a nuclear 
explosion again. Its been nearly a week and I can still see the glowing green 
afterimage if I close my eyes.
Youd better get your vision checked then.
Already done, Admiral. I am a full 10-10. The afterimage is purely in my head. 
I suspect it will never go away.
I suspect so. Drake let the smile slip from his lips, signaling that the 
business portion of their interview was at hand. In truth, he would have liked 
to spend an evening talking to the prince, say in a booth in the compartment 
that was, for no apparent reason, always dubbed Ten Forward aboard a human 
warship. However, everything aboard a ship in vacuum is rationed, even the time 
of the fleet commander.
What can I do for you, Your Highness?
Weve been pretty much out of touch en route here, Admiral. Among the things my 
ship is missing is most of its communications gear. I was wondering if you could 
tell me how bad it was at the foldpoint during the second attack.
Drake leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers in front of him. It was 
an unconscious gesture of which he was completely unaware.
In tactical terms, it was a smashing victory. Your task force took on an enemy 
nearly three times its size  well, twice, if you discount the Trojan horses 
mixed in with the actual warships  and defeated them decisively. About a dozen 
broke free of the foldpoint and Hunter Force Darthan is now pursuing them. They 
wont last long unless they hightail it for the system outskirts to join their 
fellow refugees.
 However, Drake said without pause, our smashing victory means there will be 
1200 families getting letters over the next few weeks, and 1200 good men and 
women who wont be seeing the stars of home. 
Yes, sir, the prince replied somberly. Have you a copy of the casualty list?
Drake reached into his desk unit and popped out a reader crystal. Here. I 
suspect you knew some of them.
Yes, sir. I suspect that I did.
You know, Drake said, its one hell of a way to run a universe.
Yes, Admiral. That it is.
#
 
Chapter 14
&nbsp;
The Altan countryside was ashimmer with a silvery glow as the groundcar came 
over a rise and out of the shadow of the escarpment known as the Homeport Hills. 
The forest around them turned instantly from dimly perceived tree trunks 
shrouded in the gloom of night, to black obelisks limned in silver surmounted by 
a glittering canopy of broad leaves. The reflective leaves were a twinkling 
lightshow as they fluttered in the gentle night breeze. Here and there through a 
break in the trees, a distant silver patch marked one of the ponds and small 
lakes that bordered the Tigris River down in the valley.
I can never get over how bright it is, Olivia Southington remarked to Bethany 
Drake from the front passenger seat of the car that was quietly climbing the 
tortuous highway toward the summit where Homeports elite made their homes. 
What was it like in the days after the nova shockwave first passed Alta?
It looked like an electric arc welder had risen in the sky. We called it 
Antares dawnlight. We used to have a devil of a time getting the children to 
sleep while the nova was up. Luckily, children are very adaptable. After awhile, 
they took it as just another detail of daily life.
Yes, Olivia replied. Children make life worth living. What of little Ritchie? 
Is he sleeping all night now?
Yes, thank God! One of the things I miss with Richard being away is the ability 
to kick him out of a warm bed to go tend the baby at 03:00 hours.
Just that one thing? a male voice asked from the back seat in a tone that left 
no room to mistake his meaning.
Bethany felt her ears grow warm and was glad that the only illumination was from 
the cars instrument cluster. There are other compensations to married life 
that I miss as well, Jorge.
Seor Santiago had hinted from time to time that if she were lonely at night, he 
was available to take her mind off her troubles. So far, she had managed to 
pretend that she didnt recognize the implications of his comments, although she 
knew that he knew that she knew... It was just one of the things that made being 
a member of a species with two sexes interesting. Besides, if rumor were to be 
believed, he had his hands full with Consuela Aragon, who was the fourth 
passenger in the car.
So who is this woman whose party we attend this evening? Santiago continued, 
oblivious to the sudden silence that had descended in the car.
Evelyn Mortridge is one of the leading members of Homeport society. If someone 
is important on Alta, he or she usually ends up at one of Mrs. Mortridges 
soirees. In fact, it was at one of her parties that I first met Richard.
Who will be here tonight? Olivia asked.
The usual political crowd, of course. They will be talking about how high the 
war taxes are. Perhaps the captains of a few of the Terrestrial Space Navy ships 
in orbit will have been invited, along with their young officers to make the 
local maidens happy. A leavening of university professors and other 
professionals, some of Evelyns upper crust friends for variety.
All I am interested in is whether there will be booze, Santiago muttered in 
Bethanys ear. She could smell theavarato hed had for lunch on his warm breath, 
which was wafting against her right ear.
There will definitely be booze, Jorge.
The conversation was cut off as the big turbo climbed a final section of steeply 
rising road, and they found themselves atop the hill. Three hundred meters ahead 
on the left was a well-lighted house. Bethany slowed the ground car and turned 
into the curved driveway.
Two liveried attendants opened all four doors of the car almost before it 
stopped. Bethany swung her glimmersilk-clad legs out and pressed the control 
that would send the car to the parking area before climbing to her feet with the 
assistance of the attendant.
She stepped up on the curb and stopped to adjust her shawl. After a 125-year 
hiatus, Altan fashions were once again tracking those of Earth and she was not 
sure that she liked the current trend to bare shoulders, especially on a night 
that was signaling the imminent arrival of winter.
She started up the steps toward the lighted portico. Olivia followed close 
behind, while Jorge Santiago gave his arm to his assistant and followed at a 
more leisurely pace. Evelyn Mortridge was waiting at the top of the steps.
Bethany, so good of you to come! How is the baby?
A little hellion, Evelyn.
How old is he now?
He will be three months next week.
I will have to see the little dear the next time I go down to the city.
Hes at the institute most days. Stop by sometime and Ill see you get the VIP 
tour.
Is that wise, my dear?
Is what wise?
Exposing the child to thatthing ? God only knows what diseases it carries.
Varlan isnt a thing, Beulah, nor is she an it. She is a Ryall and we know 
quite a lot about the diseases she carries. One thing we know is that none of 
her microorganisms will live on human biochemistry. If anything, Ritchie is 
safer around her than he is with the human staff.
You let him in the same room with... her?
Sure. She even holds him and gives him his bottle sometimes, although she 
doesnt like it much when he spits up on her. The smell of used milk makes her 
nauseous, you know. Come to think of it, it makes me nauseous, too.
Her two decades of hostessing had taught Mrs. Mortridge how to change the 
subject. Instead of encouraging Bethany in her defense of that... that...beast 
... she turned instead to Bethanys companions.
And who do we have here, my dear?
Mrs. Mortridge, I would like to introduce three colleagues of mine, all from 
the University of Buenos Aires, on Earth. Dr. Olivia Southington, Dr. Jorge 
Santiago, Seorita Consuela Aragon. They are a xenology team here to study 
Varlan.
Buenas noches, my friends, she said, reaching out to take Olivia Southingtons 
hand.
Olivia smiled. I just work for the university, Mrs. Mortridge. I am not of 
Latino descent, myself.
Buenas noches, Jorge said when it was his turn to greet their hostess. Your 
welcome is most gracious. He took her hand and leaned over to kiss it, causing 
the matron to twitter.
Do you still speak Spanish in your home country, Seor Santiago?
He nodded. In our homes. For business, of course, we speak Standard, just like 
everyone else.
How charming. We have nothing like that on Alta. I have always wanted to visit 
Earth to experience the diverse cultures. It gets so boring having everyone just 
like oneself, dont you agree? Earth has long been a hobby of mine, reading 
about it that is. I never thought I would actually be able to go there.
Well, enough of my monopolizing you charming visitors. My guests inside will 
not forgive me if I keep you any longer. Please make yourself at home. Mi casa, 
es su casa, I believe the expression goes.
Thank you, good lady, Jorge purred. I could not have said it better, and your 
accent is nearly perfect.
They passed inside just as another car pulled to the curb, impressing Bethany 
with the smoothness of the handoff.
Quite knowledgeable, Consuela said, even if she mangled the syllables. Why 
would someone on your planet learn Spanish if it is not spoken here?
I sent over your names this afternoon when I RSVPed. Obviously, Evelyn spent 
some time at the computer earlier today.
Her skills as a hostess are well honed. She would fit in well at a faculty tea 
back home.
Do they gossip at faculty teas?
Olivia laughed. Why, my dear, they do little else!
There was a crowd inside the entrance hall and the strains of some tune Bethany 
did not recognize wafted from the back of the house. The music was emanating 
from a live band, Bethany knew. Evelyn Mortridges parties never used 
recordings.
Jorge Santiago, with his arm wrapped around Consuelas waist, sauntered off in 
search of the bar. Bethany gestured for Olivia to follow her and led her into 
the main ballroom, where small clumps of people were standing around with drinks 
and talking to one another in that way that had been true of cocktail parties 
since time immemorial.
She spotted a familiar white-haired figure and gestured for Olivia to follow. 
Theres someone here I want you to meet.
Her target, who was half-facing in their direction, observed their approach and 
turned toward Bethany with open arms and a broad smile.
My God, Child, you get more beautiful with every passing month. Motherhood 
becomes you.
It has certainly filled me out in places, Uncle, she said as she embraced him 
and kissed him on the cheek. There is someone I would like you to meet.
Olivia, this is my Uncle Clarence. He was responsible for my upbringing after 
my parents were killed.
Uncle Clarence, Olivia said, shaking hands.
Oh, sorry, Bethany said hastily. Olivia Southington, Clarence Whitlow, 
Hereditary Terrestrial Ambassador to Alta, and by the grace of God and his own 
good offices, the current Ambassador Emeritus.
A truly important man, Olivia said.
Hardly. They let me wear the sash on official occasions, but my First Secretary 
does all the real work.
Come now, Uncle. You know that you are the best man for the job.
He nodded. Considering that the job is coordinating our war effort with the 
Terrestrial Navy and the fact that I am a local who happens to know where all of 
the bodies are buried, I suppose so. If this were a normal diplomatic post, they 
would have put me out to pasture as soon as a real terrestrial diplomat got off 
the first ship from Earth. Still, the job has its perquisites, including 
invitations to Evelyn Mortridges parties. She never invited me when I was just 
a pathetic old man who refused to believe that Alta was forever cut off from the 
Mother World.
No one ever thought you were a pathetic old man, Uncle.
Obviously, you dont travel in the same circles I do, young lady.
Whatare you doing here tonight? I know you dont like these things.
Im doing my duty as usual. There is some skullduggery on Parliament Hill and I 
am here to ferret it out. In fact, you know the chief skullduggerer.
Hello, Bethany, a familiar voice said from behind her. She turned to discover 
that same smirking smile that she had once found so attractive.
Hello, Carl. Its been a long time.
#
Once upon a time, Bethany and Carl Aster had been engaged. That had been before 
a certain dashing starship captain had come into her life and had taken her away 
to far-off lands.
 How have you been?
Busy. The Prime Minister has been working my tail off up on the Hill. And you?
I work every day at the Institute.
Still hope the little beasties will see reason?
They are a lot more intelligent than people give them credit for, Carl. It 
isnt all instinct. If it were, they would never build starships and they 
wouldnt have fought humankind to a standstill this past century.
Still, you have to admit that their xenophobia is inherent!
That, it is. However, their tendency to attack anything that threatens them can 
be short-circuited. In fact, Varlan and Olivia were discussing just that subject 
yesterday.
Really? Carl asked, turning to Olivia. Bethany hurriedly introduced them 
before Olivia answered the question.
While my colleague studies the Swift Eater legend, Mr. Aster, I am studying 
conflict resolution among the Ryall. They have quite a sophisticated system of 
obligations and duties among their clans, much the same as was developed on 
Earth during the Age of Chivalry. They even have a custom similar to the 
widespread belief among primitive humans that it isnt nice to kill someone 
after they have broken bread with you at least, not until after they have left 
your camp. They call it Clan Honor.
So the Ryall eat bread, do they? he asked while lifting one eyebrow in an 
exaggerated questioning look.
Olivia laughed. I can see why Bethany found you so charming. No, obviously, I 
was translating my findings a bit for my audience. The Ryall eat fish 
squiggling, slimy, putrid-smelling aqua forms with tentacles, at any rate. 
Personally, I cant think of anything quite so disgusting.
I think I agree with you, he said with a mock shudder before turning back to 
Bethany. How go things at the front?
I dont know any more than you hear on the news broadcasts, Carl.
What, they dont give the wife of the fleet commander special briefings?
Bethany noted that Carls emphasis on the word wife was a little stronger than 
it should have been and wondered at his true feelings about losing her to 
Richard. No, of course not. Loose lips sink ships, you know.
Frankly, I dont know what all of the fuss is about. Were all humans here, 
arent we?
Are we? Olivia asked.
What do you mean?
I mean, how do you know the Ryall arent spying on us?
I dont see any six legged centaurs lurking around, unless you count Bethanys 
pet, he replied.
Varlan is not a pet... Bethany began before closing her mouth with a snap.
They dont have to be here on the surface, watching us. It would be just as 
easy to sneak a ship through the foldpoint undetected and monitor our 
broadcasts.
How could they slip a ship in undetected?
Theyve captured enough human ships to rig out a spy vessel. They could come 
through openly as a freighter or something, and then conveniently disappear en 
route to Alta. In fact, they may already have done something like that.
Sounds farfetched to me.
It probably is, Bethany answered, but dont make the mistake of 
underestimating them.
Youre really into this shit, arent you, Beth? How about my borrowing you for 
a minute to go talk to some people who are here this evening. That way, I can 
feast my eyes on your beauty just a while longer.
Who are they?
Party people, mostly. Theyve an argument going about what we do after we 
conquer Spica. Some of the ideas being bandied about have spent less time in the 
oven than a loaf of barely browned dough. It will be good having an expert join 
the discussion.
Im hardly an expert and I really dont want to intrude in party business.
Nonsense. You have logged more time with a Ryall than anyone else on the 
planet. There are serious decisions being made here tonight. It would be good 
for those making those decisions to hear another point of view.
All right, Carl, but Im leaving if any of them start to yell at me.
They wont. I promise.
#
 
Chapter 15
&nbsp;
Evelyn Mortridges home, like most of the mansions in the Homeport Hills, had 
been built in a style that had been popular three centuries earlier on Earth. 
Bethany had heard through the grapevine that a visiting terrestrial had called 
the house quaint during one of Evelyns weekly soirees and had nearly pierced 
the hostesss veil of hospitality. Having been born on Alta herself, Bethany 
could understand Evelyns pique.
In the big room just beyond the library lay the main hall with its oversize 
fireplace and massive mantle. A fireplace was as much an extravagance on Alta as 
it was on most other worlds, and one that burned actual wood was even more so. 
That, of course, was why Evelyn Mortridge had one. How else to separate oneself 
from the common people except through the conspicuous display of wealth?
Gathered in front of the fireplace, but far enough from the roaring fire that 
they would not be toasted on one side, stood a familiar clump of partygoers. 
Bethany recognized most of them from the days when she accompanied Carl to 
Conservative Party functions.
The heated conversation halted when she, Carl, and Olivia Southington joined the 
group. Carl did the introductions all around, which took more than a minute. 
When it was over, Galston Highe, a member of parliament with a reedy voice, was 
the first to speak.
Bethany Drake? Wife oftheAdmiral Drake?
Yes, sir.
Your husband made all of us proud when he was given operational command of the 
fleet.
You can thank Grand Admiral Belton for that. I understand he thinks rather 
highly of Richard.
We are indeed honored that you chose to join our little forum.
Is that what this is? she asked in her best imitation of a wide-eyed ingnue.
Whenever two politicians get together to discuss the days legislative agenda, 
its a forum.
Unless fists are thrown, a woman MP from the smaller continent replied, in 
which case its a brawl.
... Or a riot, another member of the group interposed.
Highe ignored the banter. Your husband and all the young boys and girls of our 
fleet have acquitted themselves quite well during these past few months.
Several of those around Bethany murmured their assent. 
Thank you for your support of my husband and those under his command. I will 
include your sentiments in my next letter.
We would appreciate that, Mrs. Drake, Highe said smoothly. Perhaps you can 
also relate to him our concern that this war be brought to a swift and 
successful conclusion.
He needs no instruction on that point, sir, Bethany replied with a hint of 
frost in her voice.
No offense was attended, I assure you, the MP went on smoothly. Its just 
that we have been... discussing, shall we say... how best to conclude the 
hostilities. We have been wondering if there is an end game for this invasion of 
ours.
The end game, as you call it, has been clear from the first. We seize Spica, 
drive a stake in the heart of the Ryall economy, and waitfortheireconomyfor 
their civilization to fall apart.
 Dont get me wrong, Mrs. Drake. Your husbands plan has worked beautifully up 
until now. We have our foot on the necks of those scaly bastards and so long as 
we can keep it there, we will achieve our long-term objective. The question is 
whether we can afford to wait for nature to take its course. Perhaps we should 
take a more activist role in the process.
Activist role? Bethany asked. We are destroying their ships as quickly as 
they pop out of the foldpoints. How much more activist can one get?
The best defense would be a better offense. At least, that is what my side of 
the argument maintains.
Galston Highes voice had been getting louder and his tone sharper as he warmed 
to the subject. It was thus a shock when a softer voice interposed itself into 
the momentary silence. What are the current projections for economic collapse?
Bethany turned to the gray-haired woman beside her. She had been introduced as 
Garnet Price, member from Nova Haven.
Optimistic estimates are that it will take two years before they begin to run 
out of essentials to support their war machine. Current pessimistic estimates 
are that they will be able to hold out for a dozen years, although with 
diminishing effectiveness.
A dozen years, Price mused. And we have been in control of Spica for what... 
eight weeks now? How many of our people have been killed in that time?
The latest casualty total is 8526. That includes all of the campaigns, not just 
the Spica operation.
More than eight thousand killed in two months. We cant very well sustain that 
level of casualties for ten years, can we?
We cannot. Nor will we need to, Bethany replied. Our strategists have mapped 
out the Ryall response to our invasion, and losses should decline as the Ryall 
weaken.
A couple of their recent attacks nearly succeeded, Highe said. According to 
the latest dispatches from Spica, the fight for the Cor foldpoint was a near 
thing last week.
Oh, I hadnt heard about that one, Bethany said. Casualty lists in yet?
No. They should be along with the next scheduled message sloop. Im sure there 
will be more mothers, wives, and daughters weeping for their fallen loved ones 
this time tomorrow.
The MPs words sent a chill up Bethanys spine. The logical half of her brain 
told her that Richards flagship had probably been millions of kilometers from 
the fighting. The unreasoning half, the part where the little girl terrified of 
the dark still dwelt, believed the worst, namely that the next time a message 
sloop materialized in the Val-Napier foldpoint, it would be carrying a message 
of condolence for her and Little Ritchie.
If we have barely been able to stave off these desperation attacks, how can we 
hope to withstand a concerted assault? a newcomer to the group asked. He had 
not been introduced and Bethany did not recognize him.
Hopefully, well have the orbital fortresses in position by then, she replied. 
When we have their firepower at our disposal, we should be able to beat back 
any force the Ryall throw at us.
But well take casualties, Highe insisted.
Of course. Casualties are an unavoidable part of war.
What if they never stop attacking us? What if we have misconstrued their 
capabilities? What if they come up with the counter to our brilliant plan and 
attack us here at home while we have so much of our power tied up in the Spica 
operation?
I take it, Bethany said, that you have a solution to that problem.
We do,  the MP said. We dont wait for the laws of economics to finish them. 
While we have them helpless, we go into their systems with overwhelming force, 
and wipe them out one at a time.
Wipe them out how?
By doing to them what they have done and tried to do to too many human planets. 
We bombard them with every nuke we can scrape up, and then rain down antimatter 
bombs until their home worlds are nothing but vast fields of cooling lava.
Youre talking about exterminating them, Bethany replied as she tried to keep 
control of her temper.
Damn right I am. Exterminate every one of the beasties, I say. Exterminate them 
before they exterminate us.
#
Engineer-Captain Mikhail Borisovich Andreev sat strapped behind his oversize 
desk and worked to peel off a few more items from his overflowing day list 
before his VIP visitor showed up. Extending beyond his office in every direction 
were the slate gray bulkheads and oversize machinery of Orbital Shipyard Delta 
Seven, recently departed from orbit around Halcyon IV, and now in orbit about 
Eulysta II, known to its former owners as Corlis. That, at least, was the human 
transliteration of the unpronounceable Ryall phonemes that made up the true name 
of the planet.
At its most basic, an orbital dockyard performed the same functions as its 
groundside counterparts. It just did so in micro gravity. Delta VII had the 
ability to build anything up to a light cruiser from scratch, and with some 
monkeying of the cradles with which it enveloped its wounded patients, could 
perform major surgery even on one of the big blastships.
At the moment, the big docks restorative hangars were empty, and its first 
customer was to be a merelight cruiser, which didnt seem to justify the epic 
journey through the nebula that Andreev and his men had just completed.
A space dock is not quantitatively different in function from any other 
spaceship. To be effective, it had to have compartments conditioned to 
shirtsleeve environments in which its crew lived. Unlike a planet-based dock, 
one of the big spherical dockyards had to be mobile so that it could be moved to 
where it would be most useful, which meant it required power reactors and both 
normal space and jump engines.
In a war that extended across dozens of star systems and hundreds of 
light-years, it was unreasonable to expect a wounded ship to return to the place 
of its birth. It was more efficient for them to jump one or at most two systems 
back from the front lines and be repaired close to the scene of battle, the 
better to return as quickly as possible tothe fraythat battle .
The fleet currently taking a poundingatin the  Spicasystemww as merely the tip 
of humanitys lancein the (hopefully) war ending thrust into Ryall space. Behind 
that sharp tip extended a logistics chain that reached all the way back to 
Earth. So it was that Delta Seven had powered up engines for the first time in 
nearly a decade, turned on its newly installed suite of anti-radiation shields, 
and made its way through the heart of a century-old supernova to this alien star 
system that was fast being transformed intoaoneofthemost powerful 
bastionforshumanityhad ever constructed.
Andreevs annunciator beeped and the female corporal who served as his 
receptionist announced the arrival of his scheduled visitor.
Captain Walkirk ofQueen Julia to see you, sir.
Send him in, Andreev ordered.
The uniform of the officer who floated through the open hatch was unfamiliar to 
Captain Andreev, but that was hardly unusual in this combined human fleet. Most 
provincial navies guarded their home systems, leaving offensive operations 
largely to the Terrestrial Navy.
Captain Walkirk, Royal Sandarian Navy, commandingQueen Julia , reporting to the 
Space Dock commander.
At ease, Walkirk. Welcome aboard. What can we do for you? You are our first 
customer, you know.
I wont be the last, sir, not from the casualties were taking.
Thats what I hear. Any news from the front?
You probably know more than I do, sir. We have been a solid month nursing 
theQueen this far. We thought we would have to abandon her back at Carratyl.
Well you made it and youre in good hands. What do you need?
Phillip explained the damage that his ship had taken in a few carefully composed 
sentences. The repair officer listened, then nodded slowly.
StandardIllustrious -class light cruiser, isnt she?
Yes, sir. Built last year at Sandar from Terrestrial Space Navy 
specifications.
Good, then you use all standard modules. That means that we will be able to 
work quick and dirty. Rip out everything that doesnt work, weld on a new bow 
section, and then stuff the hull with new equipment still in the packing boxes 
from the factory. We wont even try to repair your old equipment, just ship what 
seems salvageable back to human space for a depot to handle. When we get through 
withQueen Julia , shell be better than new.
How long? Phillip asked.
A month, six weeks at the max. That assumes that something with higher priority 
doesnt materialize in the foldpoint and have you kicked out of the bay before 
we have time to finish the job.
Can my crew help?
Sure. We can always use some trained hands and that way, they will be up to 
speed on the new stuff when we send you back to space with a shiny new coat of 
paint inside and out.
Thank you, Captain. You dont know how frustrating it has been to turn our 
backs on the action and limp here when our mates are getting the hell kicked out 
of them.
Captain Walkirk, Andreev replied with a wistful tone, I have been a repair 
officer for sixteen years and seen ships and men head out into the deep black to 
fight the enemy, never to return. I know precisely how frustrating it is...
#
Chapter 16
&nbsp;
... Like many other aspects of their physiology, the Ryall reproductive cycle is 
tied to the march of seasons on the species home world of Darthan. Ryall 
females enter estrus toward the end of winter in order that their fertilized 
eggs will be hatched early in the spring, thereby giving the hatchlings the 
maximum maturation period before they must survive the harsh weather of another 
winter on their own.
With the onset of cold weather here in Homeport, Varlan is showing the 
physiological and psychological changes that mark the onset of her fertile 
phase. Her body temperature is consistently 0.75 degrees above normal, her 
appetite has increased, and her weight has risen by nearly 10% during the 
buildup to mating season. She has become noticeably more irritable, especially 
at Jorge Santiagos incessant questions regarding the roots of Ryall myths. In 
this, I find I cannot blame her, as his personality has been getting on my own 
nerves of late.
She has entered mating season twice before during her captivity, but the changes 
this time are more pronounced than they were during the previous two cycles. 
Although reluctant to discuss her current condition and moods, Varlan has 
informed me that these changes are the result of an especially heavy release of 
hormones in her body, brought on by her lengthy period of enforced celibacy. She 
will lay infertile eggs in a few weeks, as she has on the two previous 
occasions, and will not suffer through one of these hyper mating periods for 
several years thereafter.
When I suggested that I would arrange to have one of the prisoners held by the 
Navy made available if that would relieve her suffering, she actually hissed at 
me, stating, only a pervert would allow the young to be hatched into 
captivity.
The urge to reproduce is stronger in her than I have ever seen it, yet she 
refused my offer with an intensity that convinces me that the response was 
genuine. Since the urge to reproduce is as strong in the Ryall as it is in 
humans, this negative reaction is evidence that they are not chained to their 
instincts, and that, like humans, they use their intelligence to modify their 
biological impulses when the need arises. This observation has the most profound 
implications for human-Ryall relations and offers hope that perhaps they will be 
open to reason once they realize that we cannot be dislodged from the Spica 
system.
#
Bethany paused in dictating her research diary and considered that last 
statement. Having found the clue for which she had been searching so long, she 
now faced the quandary of how to test her conclusion. How much of what she had 
just dictated was based on objective evidence, and how much was her wanting it 
to be so?
Of all the fields of science, exobiology was possibly the most fraught with 
instances of investigators being led astray by their own unconscious 
assumptions. The problem was inherent in the way the human brain works.
Show a human being a pattern of random dots and within seconds, they will begin 
to see forms in the patterns. That is why inhabitants of every world with a 
sizeable airless moon perceive an identifiable face in the craters that pockmark 
their satellite, and why cloud watching is a popular summer sport among those 
young enough to have the time for it. Likewise, the pattern recognition 
circuitry in the human brain causes images of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary 
to appear in water stains on ceilings and walls in Christian cultures. 
Presumably, other images dot the water stains of non-Christian cultures.
In scientific research, this innate urge to make sense out of chaos causes 
researchers to string together facts like pearls in a necklace. The problem is 
that sometimes those facts do not really belong together, except possibly in the 
researchers own mind.
The most dangerous aspect of this phenomenon for an exobiologist was reasoning 
by analogy. Repeatedly, researchers found themselves expecting an alien organism 
to behave like the terrestrial organism it most resembled. This was the if it 
looks like a dog, it must react like a dog fallacy.
As professors of the various exo sciences were quick to point out to their 
students, the actions of an alien animal can be expected to bealien . Just 
because it resembles a fat old tabby cat you once owned does not mean that it 
will curl up in your lap and begin purring.
Bethany wondered if she were not subconsciously assigning human characteristics 
to Varlan and then making judgments on that basis. Was the Ryalls refusal to 
breed in captivity a case of Varlans intelligence overriding her instinct? Or 
was it another instinct interfering with the reproductive drive? Perhaps 
Varlans refusal to mate was merely a rationalization for an instinct that told 
her to remain unencumbered by hatchlings so that she could better take advantage 
of any opportunity to escape. In such a case, the instinct to mate would be 
suppressed by that of self-preservation, and Bethanys whole thesis would be 
invalid.
Thus, the question remained what it had always been. Were the enemy slaves to 
their xenophobic instincts or could they override their natural desire to 
slaughter human beings if given proper motivation  say while negotiating under 
the weapons of a flotilla of human blastships?
The question had taken on a renewed urgency for Bethany in the month since that 
night at Beulah Mortridges. She had been shocked to find members of the Altan 
parliament speaking so casually of the extermination of entire worlds. Even when 
aimed at humanitys mortal enemies, such callousness bothered her and had caused 
her a number of sleepless nights.
A deci-credit for your thoughts, a voice said from behind her.
Bethany started, suddenly aware that she had been staring blankly at the work 
screen on which her research diary was displayed.
Hello, Olivia. I didnt hear you come in.
Ill say not. You seemed in a trance. I thought about tiptoeing my way out, but 
figured that might spook you even more than my interrupting. Problems?
No, just something that has been bothering me.
Anything I can help you with?
Ive been thinking about what Galston Highe said that night at Beulah 
Mortridges soiree.
Highe? The MP with the irritating whine?
Bethany nodded.
All I remember was a bunch of political blowhards trying to make themselves 
sound important. Surely you didnt take their arguments seriously.
How can you not take someone seriously when they speak of sterilizing planets 
as casually as Highe did that night?
Dont let him bother you. He is frightened and frustrated. People inevitably 
talk like that when they are afraid of what the future holds. It is just so much 
hot air.
The sentiment seems to be taking hold with the public, too. I hear commentators 
on the holo nets becoming more rabid with each casualty report that comes in.
Its a common human reaction.
But genocide! You hear about such things in history, but you dont expect to 
encounter them in real life.
Olivia sighed. Your people were isolated a long time, Bethany. We terrestrials 
harbor no such illusions. Perhaps it comes from our much longer, not to mention 
bloodier, history.
But extermination is so final.
It is what the lizards mean to do to us if they win.
That doesnt make it right.
Olivia Southington met Bethanys objection with a dismissive wave. The next 
thing you will be telling me is that It isnt fair! Personally, I just think 
people are blowing off steam. They would probably be shocked if the Navy 
actually carried out the bloody-minded campaign they are advocating. Still, you 
need to prepare yourself for the fact that we are not in control of events out 
there. You know what a tiger is, dont you?
Bethany nodded.
Well, we have one by the tail and we are riding it. If the battle goes against 
us, or the Ryall prove more resilient than our computer models allow for, we may 
find it necessary to go into their home systems one by one and spend the human 
lives needed to overwhelm their defenses.
But the Ryall can be reasoned with, Olivia. I think my work with Varlan proves 
that they can overcome their instincts.
Thats news to me, and I have been following the literature on the subject very 
closely. Most experts seem to think that a Ryall is about as programmed as a 
computer, and its reactions are just as automatic.
The experts are wrong.
Then it is too bad that they have the ears of the powers-that-be and you do 
not.
Bethany fell silent. That was what had been bothering her ever since that night 
Galston Highe had made his dreadful suggestion. She had information vital to the 
prosecution of the war effort, but no one was listening to her.
There was one person who wouldalways listen to her She just did not know what 
he could do to help.
#
Clarence Whitlow was in his garden, tending his roses, when his niece arrived. 
His joy at seeing her was tempered by his first sight of her expression. 
Whatever had prompted this visit, it was not a social call. He had seen that 
look too often during her teenage years to mistake it for anything but trouble.
Uncle, she said as he got stiffly to his feet from where he had been kneeling 
as he mulched one of his prize plants. She hugged him tight, eschewing the 
one-armed technique she had employed as a teenager. In those days, Bethany had 
been embarrassed by her burgeoning breasts, and had taken to avoiding bodily 
contact anywhere near her chest. However, as such things were wont to do, that 
phase had passed, as had so many others. Now she was a glowing young mother, and 
Whitlow took pleasure in the fact that he was the person primarily responsible 
for how well she had turned out.
The atmosphere in which they embraced was hot and humid, the natural condition 
of the greenhouse. Around them was the quiet buzzing of terrestrial bees, which 
he prized almost as much as his roses. The insects had never adapted well to 
Altas native environment, and each bee was worth its weight in fissionables.
What brings you here, Child? he asked as they parted reluctantly (more so on 
his part than hers, he sensed).
I have something I would like to discuss with you, Uncle. Have I come at a bad 
time?
He smiled. I see you too little as it is. My roses can wait. Come, lets go 
into the house and talk about it over hot chocolate. I seem to remember that is 
your favorite beverage.
Her laugh was forced and brittle when it came a few milliseconds too late. It 
was, until I started to blow up like a walrus fish. Do you remember how I cried 
when I couldnt fit into that beautiful prom dress you bought me?
I remember a certain emergency tailoring job, although I thought it fit fine as 
it was.
As hereditary terrestrial ambassador to Alta, Whitlow had made it his lifes 
work to study Earth historynot the history in history books, but actual 
contemporaneous records that revealed how the people of various cultures had 
viewed life and the world around them. Offhand, he could not think of a single 
culture, ancient or modern, where the teenage girls had not worried about being 
fat.
The two of them walked arm-in-arm across the small shrub-covered expanse of 
Whitlows lawn, toward the low house built in a style now 200 years out of date 
on Earth. Heating the milk and preparing two steaming cups of brown liquid took 
another ten minutes. Only when they were comfortably seated in his breakfast 
nook, with its view of the nearby Colgate Range, did Whitlow broach the subject 
of Bethanys unexpected visit.
What is it, Child? You know you were never very good at keeping things from 
me.
It was almost with a sob that Bethany poured out her frustrations of the 
previous month, beginning with the cocktail chatter of Galston Highe and ending 
with her conversation with Olivia Southington just that morning. Whitlow 
listened quietly, judging the degree of anguish behind her words. It was, he 
noted, considerable.
So you believe you have discovered something important?
She nodded with downcast gaze.
So what do you plan to do about it? he asked gently.
I dont know what to do, Uncle. I suppose I should write up my findings and 
submit them to one of the xenology journals.
His sputtering brought her head up as anxious eyes surveyed his features. She 
wasnt sure whether he was choking or laughing. Finally, she decided that his 
sudden fit was the latter.
Whats so funny? she asked in a hurt tone.
Sorry, he said, wiping chocolate from his face with the grimy sleeve of his 
work shirt. I thought I knew you well, Child, but that was the last thing I 
thought you would say.
What elsecan I do, Uncle? No one in the government will listen to me. They all 
think Im a crackpot who has fallen in love with her alien pet.
Whitlow considered his next words carefully. So you truly think that the Ryall 
can be reasoned with, even if at the end of a gigawatt laser?
I do.
Then you have to do something about it.
I know that. Butwhat ?
I think you know the answer. Richardneeds to be told of your theory and its 
ramifications.
Richard? He already knows about my ideas.
Does he know about your new findings?
No, she said slowly, as though contemplating a strange new idea. I suppose I 
could write him a letter telling him what Ive found.
Do you think that will be sufficient?
She paused and looked at the person she had come to for advice almost as long as 
she could remember  certainly since that terrible night when her parents were 
killed in the groundcar accident.
What do you mean?
You know what I mean.
Bethany furrowed her brow, then gazed at him with steadily widening eyes as 
understanding began to seep into her brain. You mean take the news to him, 
personally?
He nodded gravely.
But I cant! I have a newborn to look after.
And you also have information vital to the war effort, information that can 
only be delivered in person that is, if it is to be acted upon.
Surely you arent suggesting that I take Ritchie with me?
No, Im not suggesting that. His eyes did not waver from hers, and his voice 
was soft enough to frighten her. Just as he knew all of her moods, Bethany had 
seen her uncle under every manner of stress. His earnestness was as strong as 
she had ever seen it.
Abandon my baby? she asked in a near shriek. You ask too much!
I ask what is necessary. This information has to be delivered as quickly as 
possible and you are the only one who can deliver it.
But I cant!
But you must.
 A a mother doesnt abandon her baby!
Clarence Whitlow, who had been gently massaging the back of his nieces hand, 
suddenly straightened and leaned back in his chair. There was a look of triumph 
in his eyes.
There, youve said it! Good. Now we can get to the crux of the matter.
What crux? she asked petulantly.
You say that you have discovered that the Ryall can overcome their instincts, 
yet you cant even overcome your own.
Its not the same, she answered stubbornly.
It is precisely the same. You have an overpowering urge to protect Little 
Ritchie. That is natural. After all, maternal instinct is the product of 
millions of years of human evolution. Throughout history, our species has had 
two automatic reactions to trouble. At the first clatter of weapons, women grab 
up the children and run in the opposite direction, while men grab their spears 
and head directly for the sound of battle.
That instinct is as deeply imbedded in our genes as the Ryall xenophobia is 
imbedded in theirs. The question is whether you can overcome your instincts to 
do what is necessary. What does your heart tell you?
 My heart tells me to grab Ritchie and run directly away from the sound of 
battle. I want to climb into bed, and pull the covers over us until we wake up 
in a sane world where there are no xenophobic lizards.
Yes, that would be nice, wouldnt it? However, you dont mean that.
Dont I?
No. What you have discovered is too important to hide from your duty.
A mothers duty is to her baby.
Yes, it is. Nevertheless, the expedient thing is not always the best for our 
children. If it was, I would have let you have that pony you wanted.
But what do I do with little Ritchie if I go gallivanting off to war? Who will 
take care of him?
Who would take care of him if you were killed in a groundcar accident? he 
asked softly.
You, Uncle? But hes an infant. I was 12 when I came to live with you.
Do you suppose an infant is more trouble than a teenager?
Bethany blushed as her uncles comment brought back memories she would just as 
soon stay buried.
Most men your age dont become fathers, especially single fathers.
I will manage. Dont worry, his physical needs will be taken care of. I will 
hire nurses and possibly a housekeeper to help me. As for love, I can give him 
all of that he can take.
Bethany blinked and noted that the wizened old mans image was becoming blurry.
But what kind of a mother will people think I am, abandoning my baby for long 
months, maybe even a year or more?
It isnt the type of mother they think you are; its the sort thatyou think you 
are. And if you can have any influence on shortening this war, you will do 
Ritchie far better service in leaving him than you will by staying.
The emotions raging within were too much for Bethany. The tears that had been 
welling in her eyes began to roll freely down her cheek. Within seconds, she was 
sobbing uncontrollably.
Whitlow, moved his chair across the decorative tile, and then folded the sobbing 
woman into his arms as he had done so many times in the past. The tears, he 
knew, meant that Bethany had made her decision. It was a choice that caused him 
no joy and certainly one that would bring her pain. It was, however, the right 
choice.
Under the circumstances, it was theonly choice.
#
Chapter 17
Commander Phillip Walkirk, Captain of His Majestys Light CruiserQueen Julia , 
used his arms to lever his body out of the access hatch in which he had been 
submerged the past four hours. Around him, the millions of scintillations that 
decorate the interior space of a photonic computer were like a particularly 
dense, microscopic star cluster. As he emerged into the light of the Number 4 
axial passageway, the glare of the corridor overheads caused him to suddenly 
squint as he rotated his body parallel to the deck. He then hooked the toes of 
his ship boots into the deck grid and gently pushed with his hands to pivot 
himself into a vertical position. The whole maneuver was performed with the 
unconscious ease of one who has lived continuously in micro gravity for months.
Under the bright corridor lights, Phillip looked less like the heir to the 
throne than one of the unfortunates who congregated each night to sleep next to 
the warm air exhausts of the Royal Terrarium in Capital. His dungarees were not 
so much stained as they were decorated  in multiple strata of unidentified 
substances that constituted a record of his activities since last hed had the 
opportunity to change his clothes.
Despite Phillips impatience, repairs onQueen Julia had progressed with 
surprising speed after the tugs maneuvered the crippled cruiser into the 
all-encompassing embrace of the big space dock. As Captain Andreev, the dock 
commander, had pointed out, repairs were greatly facilitated by the cruisers 
design, which was based on the Terrestrial Space NavysIllustrious III class of 
warships. Like herIllustrious sisters,Queen Julia used standard modules 
throughout her hull.
The damage toJulia was sufficiently extensive that had the cruiser been one of 
the older ships of the Royal Sandarian Navy, or of the Altan Space Navy for that 
matter, she would probably have been scrapped. Repairing those 150-year-old 
designs would have taken too much time and too many scarce resources. For modern 
ships, with their interchangeable parts, repairs were the equivalent of a 
childs game of building sticks.
The space dock technicians had begun the repair by slicing away the cruisers 
smashed-in bow with a laser as powerful as any carried by a blastship. It had 
been disconcerting to look at his ship and see it in cross-section, with 
compartments, passageways, and utility conduits all open to space. It had been 
even more disconcerting to watch the minor surgery that had followed the 
amputation of the bow. For more than a week, dockyard technicians had swarmed 
over the ship, cutting out partially melted sections of hull and interior 
structure, stripping away kilometers of optical cabling that had been clouded by 
radiation exposure, and emptying equipment racks of components that triggered 
fault messages when queried by diagnostic routines. At first, Phillip and his 
crewhad acted as unskilled helpers in this systematic vandalism, taking 
direction from the docks skilled cadre of ship wreckers.
As 16- and 20-hour days began to blur together, however, the cruisers crew 
began to take on more of the repair tasks themselves.  Not only were they 
becoming more skilled, but also the docks personnel were increasingly diverted 
to service other cripples.
Altogether,Queen Julia spentatotalof 22 days surrounded by space dock 
scaffolding and movable work centers. At the end of that time, when the ship was 
once again vacuum tight, Captain Andreev ordered his dock cleared so that he 
could begin repairs on another victim of the continuing contest over who would 
control Spica. Philliphad watched from an inter-orbit scooter as the docks 
massive clamshell doors opened and his ship was again exposed to Eulystas 
warming yellow rays.
Interior work on the ship proceeded apace even while tugs gently shifted the 
recuperating cruiser to a parking orbit aft of the repair dock. Repairs 
continued for four more weeks asJulia s crew slowly put their ship back 
together. The list of things needing fixing seemed endless. There were networks 
to synchronize, interface nodes to reconnect, missile launchers to align. Most 
of these tasks required the attention of skilled technicians, all were time 
consuming, and Phillip never seemed to have enough labor of the right sort to 
satisfy even half of the demands for immediately attention.
Yet, despite workdays that were much too long and infrequent sleep periods, 
looking back on it, he could not remember a time when he had been happier.
AsQueen Julia was slowly transformed from a collection of scrap metal to a 
functioning ship of war, Phillip felt something that had been too often missing 
from his role as heir to the throne. He felt the quiet satisfaction of having 
accomplished a difficult goal through his own efforts. On this job, there were 
no Sandarian court councilors to smooth the way, no deferential treatment 
accorded theKings sonheir to the throne , no overeager functionaries to make 
good on his smallest whim. Most of those he dealt with daily knew nothing of his 
exalted status at home, or if they had heard rumors that he was some sort of a 
prince, they went out of their way to show him that he was nottheir prince.
He was especially proud of his crew. When hehadboarded the cruiser, they had 
been a dazed mob of survivors in a state of shock. Over the difficult weeks and 
months, first as theyhad coaxed their damaged ship across two star systems, and 
subsequently through the long refit, Phillip had knit his band of survivors into 
a smoothly functioning starship crew.
The original crew had been supplemented with a pickup group of replacements, 
every one painfully acquired through cajolery (and some out-and-out bribery). It 
was in requisitioning manpower that Phillips court training proved most 
valuable. The terrestrial forces resupply system had nothing on the Sandarian 
court when it came to intrigue, mutual back washing, and favors received for 
those given.
The new men and women, none of whom was Sandarian, were melding well with the 
remnants of the original crew.
 On that wondrous day in the not-too-distant future when the final 
control-and-comm module was online, when the ships last scar had been welded 
closed and painted over, when the engines were once again brought to power, on 
that dayQueen Julias young captain would not only report his ship ready for 
space. On that day, he would report her ready for battle!
Captain, a voice called.
Phillip rotated in midair to see his executive officer pulling himself 
hand-over-hand along the corridor barber pole.
What is it, Mr. Weintraub?
Captain Andreev sends his compliments, sir, and requests that you report to his 
office at 16:00.
Sixteen hundred? Phillip asked, consulting his chronometer. Thats twenty 
minutes from now.
Yes, sir. Your comm unit did not respond, so I came looking for you. You barely 
have time to change before you are due at the airlock. Kaminski has the gig 
standing by.
At the reminder, Phillip reached up and patted his dungaree pocket. There was 
the familiar answering beep. He had turned off his communicator because, while 
photonic circuitry was immune to electromagnetic interference, some of the 
diagnostic equipment on his cluttered tool belt was not.
Did Captain Andreev say what he wanted?
No, sir. Just that you are to report at sixteen hundred.
All right. Tell Kaminski that I will be there in seven minutes, and that I want 
to be underway in ten.
Yes, sir.
With that, Phillip kicked off and arrowed forward to where Circumferential 
Corridor Beta intersected Axial Passageway Four. His cabin was a quarter turn 
around the ship, and two decks forward.
If he were going to run a razor over his stubble and splash cold water over his 
face, then he wouldnt have time to change his uniform. He would have to take 
his clean uniform from its storage compartment and change in the confines of the 
orbital gig.
He suspected that Corporal Kaminski, who was a woman, would regale her 
grandchildren with the story of the day she had been cooped up with the future 
king of Sandar in a bubble little bigger than a soundproof comm booth, and the 
heir had stripped to his skivvies. That assumed, of course, that Connie Kaminski 
lived long enough to have grandchildren and he lived long enough to become king.
#
 The wall screen in Captain Andreevs outer office announced that it was 
16:02:36 when Phillip floated through the hatch. The enlisted man strapped into 
the reception desk looked up from his work and said, The Captain is expecting 
you, Commander. Ill announce you, and you can go right in.
Phillip pulled himself to the inner hatch, rapped once as protocol demanded, and 
then pulled himself through as soon as the hatch slid silently back into its 
recess.
Commander Phillip Walkirk, commandingQueen Julia , reporting as ordered, sir. 
he said.
Andreev, who had been talking to a woman strapped into one of the chairs in 
front of his desk, said, Thank you for coming, Commander. I believe you know my 
visitor.
Phillip twisted sideways to observe a familiar silhouette. Bethany! What are 
you doing here?
Hello, Your Highness, she said, pivoting in her seat and extending a hand to 
shake the one he had free. How have you been?
Busy, he replied. He pulled himself into the framework seat next to hers and 
strapped himself in. When he was secure, he rotated to face her and said, That 
doesnt answer my question. How the hell did you get here?
Through the good auspices of Grand Admiral Belton, Andreev replied. Mrs. 
Drake, it seems, is on a mission. Unfortunately, I dont see how it can be a 
successful one as she lacks authorization to continue her journey beyond 
Eulysta.
Mission? Phillip asked.
Bethany nodded. I have been explaining my problem to Captain Andreev. Knowing 
that Sandar and Alta are sister colonies, he asked if I knew you.
... And since you and Mrs. Drake are old friends, I thought I would pass her 
and her problem to you, Commander, Andreev replied. You may be better 
positioned than I am to assist Mrs. Drake, or at the least, to explain to her 
why what she is asking is impossible.
It sounds mysterious.
Not at all, Bethany answered. It just takes too long to explain it properly.
Are you hungry? he asked.
Bethany nodded.
Good, then you can explain over dinner.... If that is all right with you, sir.
Andreev made a gesture like someone pushing away a particularly heavy cargo 
container that has somehow broken loose and is floating aimlessly around the 
cabin. You are most welcome, Commander. Im afraid that Mrs. Drakes needs are 
beyond both my purview and my pay grade.
Very well, sir. We will leave you to your reports. Bethany, how about a short 
trip to the mess compartment?
Thank you, Your Highness.
Please, my name is Phillip. Im trying to get people used to thinking of me as 
just one more colonial naval officer.
How is it going, Your High... uh, Phillip?
Surprisingly well, he replied. Just ask Captain Andreev. The dock supply 
officer seems to take special delight in sending my requisitions back stamped 
Denied.
#
Orbital Shipyard Delta Seven was more than just an oversize body and fender 
shop. In addition to its primary function, it sported a completely equipped 
orbital hospital where doctors worked to heal injured crewmembers while the dock 
technicians attempted to repair their ships.
For those who had come through the stress of battle without physical injuries, 
there was a large rest and relaxation facility to administer to bruised psyches. 
Part of that facility was a first-rate restaurant that served delicacies to 
crewmembers mortally tired of space rations. In fact, the shipyards chef could 
easily have cooked for the finest restaurants in Paris had it not been a robot.
Phillip sipped wine from a drinking bulb as he sat in a small booth across from 
Bethany. A steady cool breeze wafted past him, the air having been set in motion 
by the booths built-in suction system that at least gave the illusion of 
gravity.
You look more beautiful than ever, Bethany, he said as he returned the 
drinking bulb to its container. Motherhood becomes you.
She felt herself blushing, then thanked him for the compliment. I take it that 
Richard has mentioned our son, then?
Phillip laughed.  Mentioned him? Hell, he must have sent baby pictures to every 
rating in the fleet! I would venture to guess that your son is the most famous 
baby in the whole of the Spica System.
Bethany was momentarily horrified Youre joking, right?
Phillip smiled. Exaggerating, perhaps. He has Richard the Seconds picture on 
the home screen of his command unit. I know. I have seen it there. Apparently, 
every attachment you have ever forwarded him is filed for easy access.
I hope he isnt boring people with baby pictures.
Phillip laughed. Admirals dont bore lesser ranks. They instruct them. You 
should know the Navy well enough by now to know that. How is your wine?
Bethany glanced down at her own drinking bulb, which contained a pale pink 
liquid that was distinctly different from the frosty amber tinged concoction 
that Phillip was drinking.
Its fine. What did you call it?
Sandarian Slowglo, made from a mixture of jaffa vine and terrestrial 
pomegranates.
Sweet and tart at the same time. How do they get that effect?
He shrugged. You will have to consult a mixologist for the formula. I merely 
consume them. Come, drink up and we will order another round. You can tell me 
about this mysterious project of yours while we wait for the main course.
Bethany raised the drinking nipple to her lips and pressed the dispenser lever 
until the flow of the sweet-tingly liquid came to a sudden stop. She then 
watched Phillip key in an order for two more bulbs before she began to speak of 
her studies with Varlan.
Speaking to Phillip proved surprisingly easy, and before she realized it, they 
had consumed two more drinking bulbs of liquor and had worked their way halfway 
through two hydroponics salads. That his skills as a listener would serve him in 
good stead as a king, and had therefore been drilled into him from early 
childhood, did not occur to her.
When Bethany finally stopped talking, she was surprised to discover that she had 
nearly finished the covered tray of filet mignon in front of her.
So, Phillip said, having decided that the Ryall can be reasoned with  or, at 
least, Varlan can  you hopped a ship through the nebula to Eulysta to tell us 
about it.
Bethany nodded. Something like that. I need to get to Richard and tell him what 
I have found. He is the only one I know who is likely to take me seriously.
The way she said it told him that she was leaving something out. From her 
wistfulness when he had joked with her about her son, he thought he knew what it 
was.   
And you felt so strongly about this that you left your infant son at home in 
the care of your uncle, and decided to risk your life by heading into a war 
zone?
Bethany thought about it and then nodded. Do you think Im a horrible mother 
for abandoning him?
No. If you feel that strongly, and if there is even a tiny chance of ending 
this war, then you had to come. As for your theory...
You think its crazy?
I wont lie to you. It seems completely alien to my experience and to the 
experience of just about everyone I have ever met, and my people have been 
fighting the Ryall from the very beginning. What proof have you?
Just the fact that she refused my offer of a prisoner with which to mate even 
though her instincts were screaming otherwise.
Perhaps she has learned what it is that you want to hear, Phillip said, 
gently, trying to dissuade her.
To his surprise, Bethany nodded and said, Its possible, I suppose. Still, I 
think I have gotten to know her better than that in our time together.
Perhaps you have, he agreed. Why has no one else gotten a prisoner to be 
reasonable on the subject of humanitys existence? If Varlan isnt lying to you, 
then this is the first conversion of a prisoner I have ever heard of.
Maybe that is because all of our prisoners are from the military caste, 
Bethany replied. We havent captured very many of their administrative or 
scientific castes, have we?
 Well, I can check I suppose. Phillip pulled his command unit from its holster 
at his belt and scrawled a request across its face. Its screen flickered and he 
studied the output, and then whistled softly.
What is it?
Would you believe that there is at least one more administrator-caste Ryall in 
captivity, and hes here on Corlis?
Bethany blinked, and then turned to stare at the blue-white world hanging above 
the nearby view port. Corlis? You meanour Corlis?
The very same. I take it from your expression that this news has piqued your 
interest.
Bethany barely heard him. Her mind was racing too quickly. Finally, she looked 
at Phillip and said, I would like your honest opinion. Please, dont spare my 
feelings. If you think I have cracked, please tell me.
Of course.
You are worried that Varlan might be playing me for a simpleton, correct?
I would have put it more diplomatically, but yes.
 You agree that the managerial and administrative castesthinksdifferently from 
the military caste?
He nodded. Granted.
So, what if I add a second Ryall to my study? What if I can convince this other 
administrator that it is possible for our two species to co-exist in peace?
Then I would say that you have twice performed a miracle.
Perhaps I can get Varlan to help me, Bethany mused.
I beg your pardon.
Oh, didnt I tell you? Varlan is accompanying me to Spica. That is one reason 
why I have been having so much trouble. No warship is going to let a Ryall 
onboard.
Oh, I dont know about that. I can think of one that will, once we get her put 
back together, that is.
What ship?
Queen Julia. We will be returning to the battle in another month and might have 
room for a small menagerie.
Does that mean that you believe me?
It means that the stakes are high enough that we cant reject your wild-eyed 
scheme out of hand.
#
 
Chapter 18
Varlan of the Scented Waters lay draped over two human acceleration couches in 
as comfortable a position as she could manage, and watched the familiar 
landscape beyond the port of the ground-to-orbit ferry craft. In the next row 
behind her, Bethany did the same, as the aquamarine seas, forested mountains, 
and broad plains of Corlis grew larger by the moment to the accompaniment of the 
keening of the hypersonic wind beyond the hull.
What a beautiful world! Bethany said to no one in particular.
Varlan turned her head atop her long neck to point toward Bethany. Yes, it is 
beautiful to Ryall eyes as well.
Bethany sighed. That is really the problem between our two species, isnt it? 
We both covet the same sort of real estate. Perhaps it would have been better if 
one of our races had evolved on the frozen plains and liquid helium pools at the 
outer edges of our respective star systems.
 An interesting thought, Varlan agreed. One thing she had grown used to in 
Bethanys presence was the constant stream of interesting thoughts. This 
voyage they were on, for instance. It was predicated on one of Bethanys most 
enduring lunacies, namely that two sentient races could coexist peacefully in a 
universe where aggression is the only survival skill.
The problem for Varlan was that Bethanys lunacies were contagious. After so 
many cycles of her human captor/friends constant cajolery, Varlan was no longer 
sure of her own beliefs. Over time, the idea of peaceful coexistence with humans 
had ceased to be ludicrous, and had come to seem, if not reasonable, then at 
least something that might be contemplated. Bethany thought Varlans willingness 
to consider the idea was evidence that humans and The Race might one day live 
side-by-side in peace. Varlan knew that there was another, more likely 
explanation.
Her newfound mental flexibility might well be a sign that her long captivity had 
unbalanced her. Such things had happened from time to time in the long history 
of The Race.
The thought that she herself might be going insane did not particularly bother 
Varlan. She wondered if that, too, might be a symptom of insanity. On the other 
hand (her use of that human expression, she realized, was an indication of her 
mental state), perhaps there was a core of truth in Bethanys alien insights.
Varlan had never seen a Swift Eater, save in artists renderings and skeletons 
in museums. That did not mean that Swifts were merely a long ago memory from 
prehistory. She merely had to slide the nictating membranes over her oculars and 
conjure up one of the beasts from her imagination in order to bring her body to 
combat readiness.
Since the Swifts had been voracious eating machines, there had never been any 
question of negotiating with them. The choice faced by Varlans ancestors had 
been no choice at all: kill or be eaten. But what if it had been otherwise? 
Might there have come a time when it was possible to reason with them?
&nbsp;
#
Periskay of the Distant Mountains in the Mist was bored. It had been 
123heartbeats since First Meal, and would be three times that long until Second. 
He had already performed his waste expulsion activities for the day, and had 
nothing even remotely interesting in his future until Eulysta set behind the 
nearby hills, when it would be time again for slumber. In other words, this day 
was shaping into a day like every other since his capture by The Monsters.
It would have been different had he someone of his own caste to talk to, but of 
course, engineer-philosophers were not well represented in the population of the 
Corlis Prisoner Compound. In fact, he was the only one.
 Dillatan of the Swift Swimmers, his assistant, did his best to converse with 
Periskay, but after so long in captivity, they had largely run out of things to 
talk about. Or rather, Periskay had learned the limitations of Dillatans 
conversational skills, which were typical for one of his youth.
To keep his sanity, and out of necessity, Periskay had taken to studying their 
captors. Relatively early, he had learned to recognize the subtle differences 
between Monsters  or humans, as they styled themselves  and to identify them 
as individuals.
There was Privatesuharo, with his subtly different pigmentation and the 
elongated shape of his ocular coverings. It had been he who captured Periskay 
and half-a-twelve of his workers as they made their way through the bushonly two 
planetary revolutions after humans had occupied Corlis. Then there was 
Sergeantcunning-something, with the unpronounceable name, whose status was 
higher than Privatesuharos. Having noticed that many human names shared the 
first few syllables, Periskay had first thought they were egg-mates. Lately, 
however, he had noted a tendency for the humans to sometimes drop the redundant 
leading syllables. Privatesuharo was Suharo to his messmates, and 
Sergeantcunning-something was Cunning-something to those who shared his Sergeant 
pre-syllables, except when Suharo was Yoshi and Cunning-something was Matt, 
which completely confused Periskay.
He was beginning to suspect thatPrivate andSergeant were honorifics of some 
kind, or possible designations of status, a conclusion he had come to after 
Dillatan pointed out that all the privates seemed to defer to all sergeants 
and both groups tended to change their behavior in the presence of lewtnants 
and keptens. Perhaps the human social structure was just too alien for even an 
engineer-philosopher of The Race to decipher. Or maybe they were just doing it 
to confuse him.
If human social structure was difficult to decipher, their language seemed to be 
equally obtuse. It was positional, with the meaning of syllables dependent on 
the order in which they were uttered, except sometimes, that order could be 
changed without altering the information content, and other times it could not. 
A few of the human utterances were clear from their context. The monosyllable 
no was a negative and denoted that the prisoners should cease whatever it was 
that they were doing. The strangely formed sibilant yes seemed to have the 
opposite meaning, but sometimes did not mean that the prisoners should continue 
to perform the task in which they were engaged. When uttered with a rising pitch 
at the end, yes seemed to be an interrogatory, with little correlation to the 
same sound when spoken in an even voice. Then there was a monosyllable that the 
guards emitted when they were exasperated, surprised, or angry. The precise 
meaning of fuck escaped Periskay, but from the number of times the humans 
emitted the sound, it must be a verbal formula with powerful connotations.
Periskays musings as to the alien nature of aliens were interrupted by the 
appearance of Privatesuharo. Like Periskay, Suharo had learned to distinguish 
the individual members of The Race in his charge and he made directly for the 
spot where the engineer-philosopher lay sunning himself. His lips moved and 
rapid-fire Monster speech issued forth in a long string of gibberish that 
sounded like,Comon-professor-the-big-brass-want-your-carcass-in-HQ-pronto.  A 
heartbeat afterward, the translator box on the warriors belt said, 
Philosopher, you are summoned immediately to the council chambers of those who 
command this facility.
Yessss,Periskay replied, practicing his command of the enemy speech.
Privatesuharo led the way. He moved among the captive workers and warriors 
without weapons and without fear. If the prisoners had any inclination to rebel, 
they were dissuaded by the fact that they were trapped on an alien planet with a 
Monster war fleet hovering over their heads, and home was at least three star 
portals distant through enemy held space. Besides, hanging on each guards belt 
was an instrument called acattleprod , capable of rendering any member of The 
Race senseless with a touch. The descriptions given by the few who had been 
touched dissuaded the others from chancing the experience.
The administration building of the prisoner compound was a typical design for a 
human portable structure, if the others of its kind Periskay had observed were 
any indication. It was dome-shaped, with the approach from the compound through 
a long tunnel. Inside, the temperature was too cold for Periskays comfort and 
filled with the right-angled compartments so preferred by humans. Even those 
rooms that abutted the circular perimeter were box-shaped on the other three 
sides.
Privatesuharo led Periskay to one such room and motioned him inside. Hedidso. 
Within was a human  a female to judge by her physiological differences from the 
guards  and a single member of The Race.
Greetings, the newcomer said in The One True Tongue. You are Periskay of the 
Distant Mountains in the Mist?
This one is he. Who are you?
I am called Varlan of the Scented Waters.
Periskays ears went vertical at that information. The manager of the Corlis 
Mineral Extraction Facility?
Varlan made the motion of assent. I take it that you came looking for me 
whenSpace Swimmer went overdue.
Yes. I was assigned to investigate the disaster that befell you. Unfortunately, 
I only realized what had happened when Monster war craft began exiting the 
portal from the Evil Star.
And your own ship?
I sent it on a race for the portal to spread the alarm, but the Monsters were 
faster. It was destroyed.
Good hunting to the souls who were aboard, Varlan said reverently.
Periskay made the requisite sign in response and barely waited the required two 
heartbeats before asking, You are a prisoner of the Monsters the humans?
Yes, I was taken shortly after they capturedSpace Swimmer . I have been their 
prisoner ever since. My guardian is Bethany, once of the Lindquists, now of 
theDrakes. That is she standing beside us.
She seems interested in our conversation. Does she understand The One True 
Tongue?
Not as well as I would like, the female biped answered. Despite the strong 
accent forced on her by the inadequacies of her vocal equipment, Periskay had no 
trouble understanding her meaning. He was so surprised that his nictating 
membranes momentarily covered his oculars. When he finally overcame his 
reaction, he turned back to Varlan and acted as though the human were not 
present. Why are you here? I detect that you are gravid. Am I to be your mate?
I am gravid, Varlan confirmed, but there will be no mating. To bring a 
hatchling into captivity would be immoral.
I agree. Why have I been summoned then?
Bethany has been my constant companion since I was taken. She is studying me, 
as I am studying her. She has some odd ideas that she wishes to explore with 
another of our kind.
Why?
I believe that my long captivity may have caused me to lose grip of reality. 
She is seeking another of our species, one who retains all of his faculties.
 Why have I been chosen? Periskay asked.
Because you are the only philosopher currently in human hands, or at least, the 
only one within easy reach. The humans have concluded, or rather, Bethany has, 
that our race may be more diverse in its outlook than they are able to observe 
in the warriors who make up the large majority of their prisoners. You are to be 
the test of that hypothesis.
Diverse? I do not understand.
It is Bethanys belief that our two species may be able to treat one another as 
we treat others of our own kind with whom we have fallen into conflict. She 
would like you to listen to her proposal and give her your assessment.
Periskay signaled his irritation. He had been hoping for something to happen, 
anything to frighten away the boredom, but this seemed too outlandish to qualify 
for a proper diversion. Why should I aid this human?
Because, Varlan said very slowly, if she is satisfied with your response, 
there is a chance that both of us may see home again; and if she is not, it may 
well lead to the extermination of The Race.
#
Bethany listened to the quick interplay between the two Ryall and was aware that 
their quiet hisses carried a high emotional content. She understood a quarter of 
what was said, although the context in which the words were used often made no 
sense. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than three minutes, 
Varlan turned to her and said, Periskay will listen to your proposal and will 
give you his honest opinion.
Thank him for me, Bethany said, then held up a hand. Never mind, I will do it 
myself.
She tilted her head and carefully pronounced the phrase-of-appreciation that 
Varlan had taught her, making sure to spread her fingers in a palm-down gesture 
at the end. She was rewarded by the answering gesture from the Ryall, an 
acknowledgement that while he might object to her personal habits and body odor, 
at least her status was somewhere above potential dinner. It was an 
acknowledgement that she was his equal, at least for the duration of their 
conversation.
Periskay, she began before remembering to turn on her translator. She pressed 
the control that activated the machine and began again: Learned one! As Varlan 
has told you, we have studied one another for many cycles. Varlan has tried to 
understand how we humans view the universe while I have made a similar effort 
with regard to your species. We are products of different worlds, different 
biochemistries, and different evolutionary histories. Yet, as intelligent 
beings, we share a great deal. We both care for our offspring. Our sciences are 
more alike than they are different. Both of our species traveltothebetween stars 
and colonize the homelike planets we find.
 I submit to you that these similarities betray a certain likeness in our brain 
structures and in the way we think. Were we not so alike, there would be no 
reason to fight. I propose that we use our common intelligence to see if we 
cannot find some common ground  or as your race would say, calm water.
To what purpose? Periskay asked.
To the purpose of stopping this endless killing.
How is such a thing possible short of oneraceside exterminating the other?
That is what we are here to explore. I believe our species brains respond 
similarly to logic. That is why I have sought you out.  I need one schooled in 
the laws of logic, not the laws of war, to whom I can explain my ideas. I need 
an engineer-philosopher rather than a warrior.
It is true that members of my caste are problem solvers, Periskay replied. 
However, it is difficult to solve a problem if one refuses to accept reality. 
We leave it to others tolower theirslidethe nictating 
membranesacrosstheiroculars in ordertothattheymay view the cosmos in a soft, 
white glow.
Excellent. Then I would like to propose an hypothesis to be tested against 
reality.
 What hypothesis?
That intelligence overrides instinct in sentient beings.
We of The Race believe that our brains give us the ability to modify our 
instincts. How else to explain our ancestors destruction of the Swift Eaters? 
Those ancient hunters sought out the nesting places of the Swifts in deep water, 
yet their instinct was to cower behind thick stockades on land.
Bethany paused. It had never occurred to her to attribute the long hunt to the 
Ryall overcoming their fears. Still, Periskay had given her something 
withwhichshecouldwhich to work. Seeing the opportunity, she took it.
Yes, that is a case of intelligence overriding instinct. It must have been a 
difficult thing for your hunters to plunge into the ocean depths armed only with 
stone spears. I would ask that you consider that a similar level of courage is 
required of you now.
Yes, Periskay agreed. With your war fleet so deep in our space, our warriors 
will require courage to dislodge you from our realm.
No, Periskay. The courage of a Ryall warrior is built into him,,as is his 
aggression. The courage of which I speak is of a different order. Your species 
faces destruction. Do you have the courage to go against your strongest 
instincts to save The Race?
She could see from the way Periskay flattened his ears against his skull and 
dipped his muzzle that her last statement hadsunk ingotten to him..  When he 
spoke, it was with a wary demeanor, or possibly, she just imagined it.
You speak of destruction. Is this a boast on your part?
No boast. We are speaking reality. Surely, you know enough of your species 
economics to understand the long-term effect of a human blockade ofyour most 
important star systemSpica . Eventually, the Hegemony will lose its ability to 
make war, and when it does, our fleets will turn your home worlds into glowing, 
radioactivecinders. Your populations will be devastated one world at a time, 
until finally, the only hatchlings left alive will be in human zoos.
If all of this is true, why are you speaking to meabout it?
Because, I believe the destruction of the Ryall species can be avoided, if only 
your people can be made to understand.  However, many of those humans in command 
of our war effort do not believe as I do. They think I have allowed my 
friendship with Varlan to lead me into delusion.
Are my superiors correct? Am I deluded? Is there hope that we will be able to 
talk sense to Those Who RuleThe Race, or must we destroy your people to make our 
people safe?
Bethany paused and looked into the one jet black eye that fixed on her. That is 
the pivotal question. I require your honest evaluation. Given the facts as I 
have described them, if we convince Those Who Rule thatyour speciesThe Race 
faces certain annihilation, will they surrenderto spare The Race?
As she finished speaking, Bethany was surprised at how tired she felt. She had 
not slept well the night before. Every time she closed her eyes, she had seen 
her son looking up at her, asking why she had abandoned him. It was a recurring 
dream, and had largely supplanted the one in whichRichardwas incinerated on the 
bridge of his ship. Having said all that there was to say, she waited in silence 
for Periskays response.
The Ryall pondered for a long time. The silence stretched into minutes. Finally, 
the alien engineer extended his head to full elevation and looked at her 
intently. The long mouth came open to reveal double rows of razor-sharp teeth 
and Periskay answered her question.
It was not the answer she had expected.
#
 
Chapter 19
Queen Juliain position and ready to enter the foldpoint, the voice of the 
cruisers communicator said over the command circuit.
 Phillip Walkirk floated lightly in his command couch in the middle of the 
cruisers bridge, restrained only beyhis lap belt. Micro gravity was a relief 
after days spent at double gravs en route to the Eulysta-Carratyl foldpoint. He 
watched his bridge crew go about their duties, struck by how well they worked 
together after so short a time underway. In the week since they had departed 
Orbital Shipyard Delta Seven, they had largely gotten through the inevitable 
shakedown period that any crew undergoes at the start of a voyage.
Of course, most crews did not have the dubious advantage of three months of 
working long hours in close proximity while they reassembled their ship. During 
the long refit, nearly everyone aboard had become intimately familiar with the 
idiosyncrasies and foibles of their shipmates and officers. As a result, they 
were able to communicate with a minimum of lost motion as they went about their 
duties. Long beforeQueen Julia approached the foldpoint, what had once been a 
collection of shell-shocked survivors and a pickup crew of replacements had 
transformed itself into the brain and central nervous system of an interstellar 
ship of war.
Stand by,Queen Julia , the foldpoint controller answered in response to their 
request to enter the foldpoint. We have priority traffic in front of you.
Standing by, the communicator responded. He turned at his 
stationinfrontofPhillip and said, Looks like it will be a few minutes, 
Captain.
Right, Phillipsaidreplied , pointingto the bulkhead-mounted viewscreen at the 
front of the bridge. Look at that.
The screen showed the usual black of space sprinkled with a scattering of 
individual stars. In addition to the dimensionless points of light, there was a 
small manmade sphere, half in light, half in shadow. The diminutive size was 
misleading. The object was actually a quarter-kilometer in diameter, and except 
for one of the cryogen tankers that kept the fleet fueled, was one of the 
largest objects ever constructed by man. Ahead of them, preparing to jump from 
Eulysta to Carratyl, was one of the orbital fortresses that, until recently, had 
guarded the approaches to Earth.
The communicator gave a low whistle as he read the telltales at the bottom of 
the viewscreen. No wonder they want us to wait. We want to be well clear of 
that monster when she jumps. No telling how much it would mess up our jumpfield 
if we got too close.
It wouldnt do to collide with them before we jump, either.
Or after, Technician-Third Falcone replied.
The sight of the orbital fortress making its ponderous way toward Spica warmed 
Phillips heart. Within its cavernous volume, theorbital fortress packed the 
wallop of a planetary defensecentersystem . At the first sign of a breakout, it 
could fill a foldpoint with such a dense cloud of missiles, lasers, and 
antimatter beams that the attacking fleet would likely be decimated before the 
Ryall ships finished their first sensor sweep.
Phillip watched the fortress for long minutesin which nothing appeared to 
happen. Then, suddenly, the edges of its image became indistinct, as though 
viewed through turbulent water,beforeandthen the tiny half-moon shape blinked 
completely out of existence.
You are cleared to enter the foldpoint,Queen Julia , the voice of the far-off 
controller saidimmediately.
Acknowledged, Communicator Falcone replied before turning to his captain. 
Were free to maneuver, sir.
Very well. Helmsman, take us in.
Phillip heard a sudden clearing of a throat immediately behind him. He glanced 
over his shoulder to see Bethany Drake braced between deck and overhead. She 
wore an unadorned azure shipsuit of the Royal Sandarian Navy. On her, it looked 
good.
Bethany, when did you pop through the hatch?
A couple of minutes ago, Captain. I didnt want to disturb you. Permission to 
enter the bridge, if you arent too busy preparing for the jump.
The captain is never busy if he has a well-trained crew. Permission granted.  
Strap into the observers couch and you can watch the transition.
She pulled herself into the couch next to his and strapped down. How long until 
we jump?
Another ten minutes or so. Are your passengers prepared?
She nodded. Both are tucked into their fluid beds and strapped down.
How are they holding up under high gravs?
They dont like it, but they are unharmed. Varlan complains of being tired all 
of the time and Periskay spends the whole day sleeping on a fluid bed with his 
neck stretched out and his legs tucked under his torso. He says that it is the 
only way he can breathe.
I believe him. Two standard gravities for us is nearly two-and-a-half for the 
Ryall.
She nodded. I know Varlan used to complain about the gravity on Alta. She said 
she couldnt understand how we could stand erect without the aid of six feet 
under us.
Sometimes I havebeenknownto wonderedthe same thing after a night spent in 
certainspaceportdrinking establishmentsjust beyondthespaceportgate, Phillip 
replied.
What was that ship that went through just now?
That was no ship. That was Orbital Fortress Seven Two Nine, theBunker Hill.  
They are headed the same place we are, but well get there weeks before they 
do.
Do you think the orbital fortresses will make that big a difference?
A huge difference. That one fortress has more firepower than one of our big 
planetary defense centers back on Sandar.
And the fortresses will free up the ships to raid into Ryall space, wont 
they?
Not for awhile. The Ryall have had time to bring up fortresses on their own 
side of the foldpoint. That means we cant force thechokepointgoing in any 
better than theycanforce it coming out. 
,whichmakesthemasinvulnerabletoourattacksaswewillbetotheirs. It will be a 
stalemate, at least until their economy begins to fall apart.
That is what I have been telling Varlan and Periskay.
And what do they say?
They just look glum and let their necks droop.
How successful have you been in getting Periskay to come around to your way of 
thinking?
Not very, she replied. He listens to my arguments, but Im not sure how much 
is getting through.
Why did you bring him along then?
Because I need to determine whether my success with Varlan was a fluke. If I 
can convince Periskay to consider the possibility of peaceful coexistence, then 
I will have demonstrated that all Ryall have the capability to use their 
intelligence to override their instincts. If I cant, then I may have to admit 
that Varlans fears are correct.
What fears? Phillip asked.
She is worried that her long captivity has caused her to lose her mental 
moorings; that she has, in effect, gone insane.
Do you think she has?
I think she is more sane now than when I first met her; but, of course, that is 
the human viewpoint. Periskay is my control subject. If he will listen, they all 
will.
So long as we hold them prisoner and force them to listen. Have you considered 
how you are going to get word to their leaders that we want to parleey?
Bethanys brow furrowed in response. Finally, she said, That is a problem. Any 
ship of ours that shows up on the other side of the foldpoint is likely to be 
vaporized before they can get two words out. Im afraid that I dont know any 
way to short circuit their automatic attack reflex.
I doubt anyone does, Phillip replied.
There must be some way to make them listen long enough so that we can get our 
message through to their high command
Captain, the helmsman said from his console. Sorry to interrupt, but we are 
ready to jump.
Phillip let his gaze sweep across his various command screens. All was as it 
should be. Very well, Mr. Ninkara. You may jump when ready.
Suddenly, theonetwo -minute-to-jumpwarning echoed through the ship. The usual 
pre-jump formalities were over quickly and the bridge grew quiet asQueen Julia 
s generators charged.
Then after a short countdown, one set of stars disappeared while a different set 
took their place and they were one star system closer to the scene of the 
titanic struggle from which they had been so rudely ejected all those months 
ago.
#
Richard Drake sat in his command cabin and read the latest casualty reports, a 
task he had come to dread. Back on Earth, when he had firstthought upgotten 
theinvasionideaforinvading the linchpin system of the enemy , it had seemed so 
neat and tidy. They would fight their way into Spica, block theenemies interior 
lines of communicationsof the Ryall Hegemony,,and then hold on with the tenacity 
of a terrier until the Ryall economy collapsedfrom disruption of their commerce.
It was the holding on that was proving to be the difficult partof the plan. No 
matter how many Ryall ships they destroyed in the foldpoints, there always 
seemed to be more in reserve. It was as though the enemy had unlimited forces to 
hurl against humanitys wall.
As in all things, the illusion of infinite military power was just that an 
illusion. There is a limit to how many resources any society can divert to the 
art of war, and after a century and a quarter of conflict, both species were up 
against that limit. The two adversaries were evenly matched, having proved that 
by fighting to a stalemate for six generations.
No, the Ryall power behind the foldpoints, though massive, was finite. Even a 
society whose soldiers were grown in the egg must someday run out of them if 
they were expended too profligately. In fact, the furious attempts to break 
through the blockade were actually in humanitys interest. They would use up 
ships and warriors faster than more careful military strategies. This would 
hasten the inevitable collapse.
Of course, that was cold comfort to those who perished throwing back their 
onslaughts. It was even colder comfort to their loved ones. How does one tell a 
grieving mother that her son has given his life to hold on? What do you say to 
the widow of a man whose atoms are intimately mixed with those of his ship in 
interstellar space? Can a dead crewmans children take solace in the fact that 
the fleet has inflicted vastly more damage on the enemy than they have received, 
especially when their father is one of the unlucky few?
A military man all of his life, Drake had experience with death. Yet, he found 
this slow, steady drumbeat of casualties debilitating. It was not the constant 
sense of bereavement that was gnawing at his conscience. Rather, it was the 
feeling that casualties were becoming routine. He worried that those who died  
vital, breathing, sweating, cursing, belching, living, loving human beings  
would slowly, inexorably, be transformed into dry statistics, mere numbers in a 
database: TSNSTanganyikalost with 724 officers and crew. RSNSExcaliburdamaged, 
316 dead and half a thousand injured, half critically. ASNSSunchaser exploded, 
all hands lost
It was the dehumanizing effect of the constant barrage of such numbers that 
threatened to numb everyones conscience. It had happened before. There had been 
the first global conflict back on Earth, when a thousand men were lost in France 
on days when nothing particularly special was happening on the battlefield. No 
attacks, no retreats, just the desultory shelling of artillery. The generals of 
the time became so inured to the slaughter that they had taken to referring to 
this unremarkable carnage as seepage.
Will we, too, grow so tired of thinking about our dead colleagues that we will 
block them out of our memory?he wondered.
In this contest of attrition, who would break first? The Ryall or the Humans: 
the former by losing their economy or the latter by losing their humanity?
Drake shivered and sat a little more erect in front of his work screen. This was 
not the proper mood for a conquering admiral, he thought. Better to concentrate 
on the present and leave the future take care of itself.
The present brought with it some disturbing signs that the enemy was getting 
smarter. They were still throwing all manner of attacks at the blockading 
forces, but the timing of the last few probes had indicated better coordination 
than the wild melees in the early days of the blockade.
The previous week, small Ryall forces had appeared simultaneously in three of 
the foldpoints. Luckily, the quick, sharp battles had lasted only long enough 
for them to scan circumambient space and jump back to their home systems. 
However, it had been the simultaneity of the attacks that was worrisome, and not 
their strength.
As the tactical computers predicted when he first analyzed the capture of Spica, 
the Ryall Hegemony had responded to a human invasion fleet in their skies 
precisely as humanity would have done if the situation were reversed. Each home 
worldhad initially launched a furious attack through their local foldpoint with 
all the force they could quickly scrape together.
Their goal had been to punch through one of the foldpoints before humanity could 
erect proper defenses. However, with the human fleet astride their interior 
lines of communication, the Ryall ability to quickly communicatebattletheir 
plans between star systems was disrupted. As a result, the quick response 
attackswerehad been uncoordinated and relatively ineffective. In every case, the 
power of the defense had proven too great a handicap for the attackers to 
prevail.
That the last probe had been a simultaneous one against three separate 
foldpoints indicated that the Ryall were beginning to coordinate between cut off 
star systems. There were other, more circuitous routes between the home stars 
than the ones leading through Spica. They involved up to nine foldspace 
transitions and were slow to use, but they allowed the passing of messages 
between planets in different islands of foldspace.
With intersystem communication restored, they would begin developing a coherent 
breakout strategy, one that might be successful.
He suddenly became aware that he had been staring at the casualty list, unseeing 
for the past several minutes. Taking a deep breath, he scanned down the list of 
names one last time, not recognizing any of them on this iteration. He sighed 
loudly, and then was ashamed of himself. Were the lives of strangers less 
valuable than those of people he knew?
Slowly, he reached out and tapped the key that would attach his digital 
signature and send the list for coding in this weeks message to Admiral Belton 
on Corlis. Almost at the same instant, the communicator on his desk beeped for 
attention.
He keyed for acceptance and said, Yes?
Sir, I have an incoming message for you, Spacer Archon Carey, fleet battle 
staff communicator, reported. Its from Captain Walkirk of theRSNSQueen Julia. 

Phillip is back? he asked, feeling his spirits rise with his interest. Read 
me the message.
It reads as follows: From: Captain Phillip Walkirk, CommandingRSNSQueen Julia. 
To: Admiral Richard Drake, Commanding Task Force Spica. Message follows. Will 
arriveConqueror,16:22 Hours. If you are not too busy, request that you meet us 
at the airlock. Have VIPs on board and think it would make a good impression. 
Walkirk out.Message ends.
VIPs? Does he say who?
Negative, sir. That is the whole message.
What kind of a message is that, for Gods sake?
Should I ask him to clarify, sir?
Negative. He must have his reasons for being close-lipped. I just hope he isnt 
signaling that his father is onboard.
His father, sir?
Thats right, Carey. You dont know Captain Walkirk, do you?
No, sir.
His father is King of Sandar. Better roll out the Marine guard just in case.
Aye aye, sir.
#
Chapter 20
 Like her dead namesake,Conqueror II was a giant cylinder of a ship, shaped more 
or less like the cans in which coffee is shipped. When under thrust, everyone 
and everything aboard was pulled toward the aft bulkhead, making down the 
direction opposite that in which the ship was accelerating. However, when the 
engines were shut off, as they had been ever since the fleet established itself 
athwart Spicas lanes of commerce, the ship was spun about its central axis to 
provide artificial gravity. In this configuration, out became down, and 
everyone lived on the curved outer decks and studiously ignored the various 
furnishings and pieces of equipment retracted into the aft walls of 
compartments.
It was this need to generate centrifugal force  a mathematical fiction with 
no reality in the universe, but a concept that human beings stubbornly refuse to 
discard  that drove the design of virtually every system aboard the big 
blastship. The ambidextrous arrangement of the living quarters was only the most 
visible accommodation to the ships need to fight and function whether thrusting 
or spinning.  Both modes required a high degree of dynamic balance in three 
orthogonal axes, a balance continuously adjusted by transferring fluids between 
tanks via a complex network of valves, pumps, and pipes.
Farthest aft were the fuel tanks. They took up nearly thirty percent ofConqueror 
s interior volume and consisted of six large cylinders wrapped in meter-thick 
layers of mirrored insulation that were arrayed in a Star-of-David pattern just 
outboard of the big photon resonator tube that drove the ship through vacuum. 
Forward of the fuel tanks were the other consumables. Mirrored spheres tinted 
green contained liquid oxygen. Most were paired with larger cryogenic tanks 
tinted blue that contained liquid nitrogen. White spheres contained potable 
water while slate-gray held wastewater waiting purification. All of these 
liquids were sufficiently dense that redistributing them among the various 
storage tanks had an effect on the ships balance. The system was so precise 
that it even compensated for the perturbations caused when off-duty crewmen used 
one of the main circumferential passageways as a jogging track.
While spinning the ship to provide artificial gravity solved a variety of 
problems for the crew, it presented the original designers with any number of 
difficulties. Many of the weapons and sensors objected to being spun like a can 
at the end of a rope. For these, the ship had two large outrigger booms that 
extended the full length of the hull. The booms were mounted on bearings, and 
remained steady in space even when the central cylinder of the ship was 
rotating. Another problem had been where to locate the large open volume in 
which the blastships auxiliary craft were stored. When the ship was spinning at 
nearly two revolutions per minute, the only safe place to take a smaller vessel 
aboard was along the spin axis, and because the engines monopolized all of the 
available real estate at the stern, Hobsons choice dictated the location of the 
hangar bay. It was forward, with the doors inset at the center of the concave 
bow.
Like the ship herself,Conqueror II s hangar bay had been constructed oversize. 
It was a hollow cylindrical cavern stretching from the bow halfway back into the 
cylindrical hull. In fact, the six big thrust girders that were the blastships 
backbone formed part of the hangar bays structure, making it one of the 
strongest compartments in the ship. The main cylinder of the bay was intersected 
forward of its midpoint by three smaller circular openings. These wereConqueror 
s sally ports, unobstructed shafts leading to space doors in the outer hull 
and used to disgorge auxiliary craft quickly during battle.
Normally the bay was crowded with the variousauxiliarysmaller shipscraft 
necessary to keep a blastship operational in enemy space. There were the armed 
scouts, vessels with six-man crews that swept space in front of the fleet, 
engaged enemy scouts, and harassed the enemy out of all proportion to their 
size. There were inter-orbit ferries, the ugly collections of geometric shapes 
to whom fell the mundane tasks of transporting personnel and supplies between 
the larger ships. There were small repair craft with grappling arms and oversize 
thrusters, as well as other specialized craft.
Because the hangar bay was not airtight, operations inside the bay were overseen 
from one of the three observation galleries inset in the inner bay wall between 
the thrust girders. Roofed over with armor glass, these gave a panoramic view of 
everything going on in this miniature spaceport at the heart of the blastship.
Drake felt a spring in his step as he entered the Number 2 Gallery. This close 
to the axis, spin-gravity was only one-quarter what it was at the outer hull  
just enough to keep everyone attached to the deck. He strode to the center of 
the gallery and tilted his head back to take in the panorama of the bay 
overhead.
With many of her auxiliaries away on missions,Conqueror s bay was as empty as 
Richard had ever seen it. Forward, the big hangar doors were retracting slowly 
into their recesses, revealing the black of space beyond and a small scout boat 
waiting to enter. The boat was stationary with respect to the open doors, having 
matched its roll rate to that of the big blastship. The universe beyond 
cartwheeled. Although the stars were invisible, the angle of the sunlight 
streaming through the open doors changed continuously, making a complete circuit 
twice each minute.
As he watched, a long, multi-segmented arm came into view, reaching up toward 
the nose of the scout. The grapple mechanism on the end of the arm attached 
itself to the ships bow, and several green lights blinked to life along the 
scouts hull. The lights signified that the small ships controls and been 
locked and its engines disabled. Had they not,Conqueror s traffic control 
officer would not have allowed it inside the bay, a paranoid attitude of which 
the commanding admiral heartily approved.
The arm pulled the small ship slowly inside. The hangar bay doors began to slide 
ponderously closed as the arm moved the scout ship to the docking port just 
forward of Gallery Two. The scout had appeared tiny compared to the scale of the 
bay, but now that it was docked just beyond the gallerys armor glass roof, it 
looked like the capable interplanetary craft that it was.
There were the usual noises as the docking fixture latches engaged and the 
disembarkation tube filled with air. Drake watched as the airlock telltales 
blinked from red, to yellow, and then to green. As the lock made the customary 
soft sighing sound, he signaled the Marine in charge of the band standing by 
opposite the airlock.
The leader, a Sergeant-Major whose primary duties involved ship security, 
repelling hostile boarders, or in rare cases, boarding enemy craft under fire, 
signaled his men, who launched into a passable rendition of the Sandarian 
national anthem.
The inner door swung open and there was no activity for long seconds until a 
familiar figure stepped out onto the landing stage. Phillip Walkirk looked 
around, saw Drake, and then with a military form that would have made his father 
proud, marched to where the admiral waited and saluted crisply.
Captain Phillip Walkirk of the Light CruiserQueen Julia, reporting for duty, 
sir! he said, shouting over the echoing music.
Welcome back to Spica, Captain. You have been missed. Now who is this VIP you 
have aboard? You didnt say in your message.
Phillip grinned. No, sir. I didnt want to spoil the surprise.
What surprise? Drake began, just as he caught sight of a second familiar 
figure exiting the airlock. His words did not so much chop off asthey gurgledto 
a halt. He was unaware of the spectacle he presented. It was not, after all, 
every day that those under his command were privileged to see the admiral with 
his mouth hanging open. Finally, after long seconds, he remembered to breathe 
and managed to squeak out, Bethany!
Bethany, who had spent the last several hours alternating between being sick 
with tension and making sure that her appearance was just right, smiled broadly 
and nodded, her rehearsed speech completely forgotten.
Drake was not sure which one of them moved first, or indeed, had any memory of 
either of them moving at all. Suddenly, the two of them were entangled in one 
anothers arms and he was enveloped in the smell of her perfume, the taste of 
her lips, and the soft feel of her body against his. These were sensations he 
had longed for virtually every day of the current campaign. With his senses in 
overload, the cares of battle seemed, for the moment, far away. Long minutes 
passed before either of them was again aware of their surroundings.
#
What may well have been the longest kiss in the history of the Spica System 
slowly ended and Richard contented himself with the primal pleasure of holding 
his wife close with his nose nestled in her hair. They stood this way for more 
than a minute as he slowly returned to the present. The Marine band, which had 
ceased playing sometime while he had been elsewhere, were standing rigidly at 
attention, their eyes averted from their commander and his mate. He noted with 
interest that several of them were having trouble keeping their features 
immobile as they fought the smiles that were welling up inside. For some reason, 
this did not irritate him, as it normally would have.
No, not for some reason. He held the reason in his arms.
Slowly, he disengaged from Bethany and thrust her out to arms length to better 
look at her. His first impression had been correct. She was as beautiful as he 
remembered her. More beautiful, in fact.  The last time he had seen her, she had 
looked like she swallowed a beach ball. Now she was as svelte as the day he had 
married her. She was notmore beautiful; she was differently beautiful. Drake 
considered all of the things he wanted to tell her, to ask her, to confide in 
her, but found that no words issued forth. His emotions were too jumbled to gain 
control of his traitor tongue. As he struggled to control them, a new emotion 
bubbled to the surface in the boiling cauldron of his brain. The emotion was a 
mixture of irritation, pride, and an overwhelming curiosity.
What the hell are you doing here, darling? he demanded, and where is the 
baby?
Hes safe, Richard. I left him with my Uncle Clarence and hired a nanny. As for 
what I am doing here, it is much too long a story for the moment. Cant that 
wait  just a little while?
He pondered the question, sorted out the implications, and grinned. I suppose 
so, now that you mention it! He drew her close until someone cleared his 
throatsomewhere nearby. With reluctance, he released his wife, straightened, and 
turned to Phillip, who was standing a meter away, studiously ignoring them.
Thank you for your surprise, Captain. Bethany was the last person in the 
universe I expected to pop out of that airlock.
You are welcome, sir. I hope my little theatrical stunt wont hurt my chances 
for promotion.
Drake folded Bethany under one arm and made a show of pondering Phillips future 
as a naval officer. I dont know, Captain. Is there a rank higher than King 
in the Sandarian Navy?
Phillip grinned. Come to think of it, Admiral, I dont believe there is. Now, 
sir, if I may be dismissed
You are dismissed, Commander, he said, not really noticing the Sandarian 
prince as he swung Bethany around and headed for the hatch. They had gone half a 
dozen steps when she tugged at him and the two of them turned to face Walkirk 
once again.
Phillip, will you take care of 
Your cargo? Consider it done.
Cargo? Drake asked. What cargo?
Later, darling, she responded. Now, how far is it to your cabin?
It would be too far if it were just beyond this hatch!
#
The cabin was dark save for the one small blue night-light required by 
regulations. Richard opened his eyes and for a moment could not remember where 
he was. The cabin was familiar, but there was someone in his bunk with him. Then 
he remembered and he smiled. Last night he had made love to his wife for the 
first time in more than a year, and it had been like the first time all over 
again  actually, like the firstthree times.
 The hurried stroll to his cabin had proved something that he had always 
suspected, namely that scuttlebutt aboard ship is transmitted at the speed of 
light. It seemed that every crewman they encountered knew that the admirals 
wife had come aboard. A steady stream of grinning crewmen snapped to attention 
and executed a perfect military salute as they passed.
They had finally made the sanctuary of his cabin and had savored another long 
kiss before other needs intervened and their reunion dissolved into a laughing 
race to see who could get out of their clothes first. Bethany won and helped 
Richard, after which they fell onto the too-small bunk in a tangle of arms and 
legs. What followed had been an urgent striving together, an athletic contest 
where there were no winners or losers. There had been no time for subtlety or 
soft caresses; just a hard coming together that expunged the memory of lonely 
fearful nights spent on Alta and with the fleet.
Their second spate of lovemaking had been slower, but still the act of lovers 
rediscovering things once known, but temporarily forgotten. After a short period 
of slumber, they had come together a third time. This time their act of love had 
been slow and languorous, the unhurried coupling of married people. The last had 
been best and they had remained entwined as sleep overtook them yet again.
As Richards memories of the previous night returned in a flood, he glanced at 
his sleeping wife. Her hair was a tangle over her face and she was emitting 
quiet snoring sounds. His left arm had gone to sleep where she was using it as a 
pillow. Her own left arm was thrown carelessly across his naked chest. One of 
her breasts was trapped between his torso and her arm, forcing it into an 
interesting shape  although, he reminded himself, he could think of no 
uninteresting shapes. He raised his head from the pillow and gazed down his own 
body to where her naked hip rose like a gently rounded hillock to one side while 
one of her legs was thrown across his.
He dropped his head back on the pillow and stared at the overhead that would 
become a bulkhead when nextConqueror s engines came alive. He willed this 
moment to go on forever. Forever lasted two minutes until Bethany stirred, then 
stretched, then opened her eyes.
She looked around the cabin, then discovered him looking at her, and smiled.
Good morning, husband.
Good morning, wife.
What time is it?
Coming up on 05:00 hours. Time for breakfast if youre hungry.
Starving, she replied. I dont normally get so much exercise.
Me neither. Shall we exercise again before we head for the mess?
She raised her head from his arm and glanced down his torso before looking down 
at him from above. It would seem the gentlemen is more gallant than practical, 
she replied with a grin.
He sighed. You may be right. Breakfast it is, then.
There had been a time when living space had been a privilege of rank aboard a 
ship of war. Richard had once read that Christopher Columbuss cabin consumed 
half the living space aboard theSanta Maria . No longer. His cabin was no larger 
than that of any other officer, and actually smaller than the cabins provided 
enlisted personnel  although, to be fair, enlisted ranks were bunked four to a 
compartment. There was just enough space in Drakes cabin for one person to 
dress comfortably. It took the two of them longer to wash, dress, and make 
themselves presentable than he would have thought possible. Of course, the 
process was interrupted frequently by kisses and gentle caresses.
Bethany bemoaned the fact that in their hurry the previous evening, she was 
separated from her kit bag, and as a result, had nothing new to wear.
Well find it, Richard said as he kissed her one more time. Its probably out 
in the corridor right now, waiting for us to open the hatch.
Do you think so? Lets look.
He moved to the hatch and opened it manually, cracking it open just enough to 
search the corridor beyond. There was no kit in evidence.
Not to worry, he said when he reported failure. Well find it. It cant have 
gotten too lost aboard ship.
But all of my baby recordings are in that bag. I wanted to show them to you 
while we eat.
Well have plenty of time to see them later. In the meantime, you can tell me 
why you left our son with your uncle, and came traipsing out here where you 
could get yourself killed.
Are you going to be cross with me, Richard?
After last night? Never. However, it must have been a damned good reason
Believe me, it was.
#
Chapter 21
The corridor between his cabin and the officers mess was more crowded than 
usual for this early, Drake noted. Every officer and crewman they encountered 
seemed to have a barely suppressed grin on his or her face. The female 
crewmembers were the worst as they gazed at Bethany with looks bordering on 
envy.
After it had happened a half a dozen times, Bethany said, Does every woman 
onboard have a crush on you, Richard?
I beg your pardon? he asked. As they proceeded around the Alpha-Six 
circumferential corridor, his ears had been growing progressively redder. If 
this foolishness did not stop, he was going to have someoneup on report.
The women. They all look at me as though Ive stolen you from them.
Not likely, he replied. They are probably thinking that we just blew hell out 
of the non-fraternization regulations.
A man cant even sleep with his wife aboard this ship? she asked.
He laughed. Frankly, Im not sure the subject has ever arisen.
Like most interstellar colonies, Alta had always been protective of womenwhen it 
came to placing them into dangerous situations. Sociologists noted that this 
parochial attitude was a nearly universal reaction of human societies when faced 
with populating a new planet. Females were too important to a societys future 
health to risk them needlessly. Thus, for much of Richard Drakes career, the 
Navy had been a males-only organization. In fact, Bethany herself had been the 
first woman with whom he had served aboard a starship. That was because her 
uncle, the hereditary terrestrial ambassador, had refused to give up control 
ofDiscovery s jump codes for the first expedition following the restoration of 
Altas foldpoint unless his niece went along as his representative.
Alta had only begun recruiting women into its navy after it became obvious that 
every available human resource would be needed to defeat the Ryall. Even then, 
there had been resistance to the idea. Unlike other space navies where mixed 
crews had been the norm for centuries, the Altan Navy was still not comfortable 
with the idea of women aboard warships. As a result, most of the regulations 
concerning social interaction between the genders could be summed up in a single 
word: DONT!
After what seemed to Drake to be an eternity, they reached the officers mess. 
Inside, they found Captain Carter and most of his staff already seated at the 
various tables bolted to the gently curving deck. Phillip Walkirk was also 
there. He occupied a table by himself in the far corner of the compartment. As 
Bethany entered, the officers quickly got to their feet.
Captain Carter, I would like to introduce my wife, Bethany, Drake said to the 
blastships commanding officer. Bethany, Captain Pelham Carter. He 
commandsConqueror . This is his ship. He just lets me ride along if I keep out 
of trouble.
Hello, Pel, she replied, shaking the captains hand.
You two know each other?
We met at one of Mrs. Mortridges parties.
You have an excellent memory, Mrs. Drake.
Slowly, Drake introduced her to each ofConqueror s officers and those of his 
battle staff. She had met a number of them at parties they had thrown at their 
house while the fleet was preparing for battle. Other officers were new to her, 
having joined the blastship recently. She greeted each of them warmly.
The most junior of them, an ensign, making conversation, asked Bethany if she 
had slept well.
 Quite well, Ensign Mabry, she replied, ignoring the sudden reddening of his 
complexion as the implications of the question seeped in.
Mabry, make room for the admiral and his wife, Captain Carter ordered.
Please, keep your seat, Mr. Mabry. My husband and I will join Commander 
Walkirk, if he doesnt mind. You dont, do you, Phillip?
My honor, Bethany.
Can we, Richard? Bethany asked. Or does protocol require you to sit with the 
other officers?
One of the advantages of being the commanding admiral aboard my flagship, I can 
sit wherever I damn well please. Besides, weve caused Mr. Mabry enough 
inconvenience this morning.
That comment increased the blush on the ensigns cheeks.
They pulled out chairs tethered to the table with bungee cords and sat down. 
Almost immediately, Richard found a white-coated steward at his elbow. The 
steward, like the band members, was a combat Marine. He took their orders and 
then withdrew discreetly.
I dont remember having such luxuries aboardDiscovery , Bethany said. The 
wardroom sported a century-old self-service dispenser. You actually had to get 
up to get your food.
Service aboard the flagship has its advantages, Phillip agreed. Our little 
cruiser doesnt even have a dispenser. You have to make the sandwiches 
yourself.
Which brings up a question, Drake said, suddenly aware that the prince should 
have been back onboard his ship by now. Why are you still here, Commander?
I asked him to stay, Richard, Bethany replied. I wanted him here when I 
explained myown reason for coming. I figured you wouldnt yell at me as loudly 
if there were witnesses.
Drake glanced around the crowded compartment. Why do I think that Im not going 
to like whats coming next?
We can wait, if you like, darling.
Better to get it over with. What are you doing here, wife? What was important 
enough to leave the baby? And what is this cargo Phillip took care of last 
night?
The last question is the easiest. The cargo consisted of two Ryall.
Two? You brought Varlan with you?
She nodded.
Who is the other one?
Periskay. We picked him up on Corlis.
What are you doing, starting an interstellar zoo?
Im continuing my studies, she replied with a sniff. Then, she leaned forward 
and she said her next sentence all in a rush. Oh, Richard, I think Ive 
discovered something.
What? he asked.
I believe I know how to bring this war to an end short of exterminating the 
Ryall.
 Drake sat back and regarded his wife with narrowed eyes. It was as though a 
switch closed in his brain. Gone was the loving husband, replaced by the cold, 
calculating, admiral with responsibility for the lives of the hundreds of 
thousands who served under him, and for the fate of the human race.
He did not speak for nearly a minute. When he did, it was to say, Perhaps, 
darling, you were right. This is best discussed in my command center. I take it, 
Commander, that you are a party to my wife's discovery?
She has briefed me, Admiral.
Then you had better come along. Steward! Put our breakfasts in a box. Well eat 
them later.
#
If Richards cabin was no different from that of any other officer, his command 
center left no doubt that an admiral worked there. His personal battle station 
was in the transparent bubble suspended above the Fleet Operations Center. At 
the touch of a control, he could opaque any section of the glass wall and 
replace it with a holographic display, even to the point where he was completely 
surrounded by information about the ongoing battle for the Spica System. There 
was a second set of bulkhead-sized displays in the operations center below, 
displays his staff used to plan battle strategy, deploy fleets, track the use of 
consumables, and make sure that the foldpoint blockades were as robust as 
resources allowed.
Like the Control Center from which Captain Carter maneuvered the ship, the Fleet 
Operations Center was located at the spin axis, sandwiched between the hangar 
bay and the engine spaces, which meant that spin gravity was essentially 
non-existent. Drake pulled himself hand over hand to the powered chair behind 
the semicircular desk and directed Bethany and Phillip to take the two seats in 
front. Below them, a dozen watch standers sat at consoles nearly as complex as 
Drakes own and monitored the fleet. Drake glanced at the big threat board that 
dominated the operations center. There, a tiny red star was surrounded by eight 
glowing foldpoint symbols. One of these he did not have to worry about. That was 
the Spica-Carratyl foldpoint, through which poured a steady stream of 
reinforcements. The plot board showed numerous dimly glowing lines that marked 
the orbits of newly arrived ships as they spread out to deploy to their assigned 
positions inone of theseven separate blockadeforces. Oneofthose glowing 
linesmarked the transit of the wasthefirst of the big orbital fortresses, 
already halfway to the Spica-Darthan foldpoint.
The seven foldpoints leading to Ryall space glowed a satisfying emerald-green, 
indicating that things were quiet for the moment.
Drake slipped the meal packet onto the desk in front of him and keyed the 
magnetic field that would keep it from floating away. Bethany and Phillip did 
the same. When all of them were secure, Richard said, Lets have breakfast 
before it gets cold. In between bites, wife, you can tell me what you have 
discovered. Begin at the beginning. I dont want to miss anything.
While the impromptu picnic continued on his desktop, Bethany told him of her 
research since he had departed Alta to join the invasion, and of her growing 
empathy with Varlan, especially after little Ritchies birth. She recounted how 
she had attended one of Mrs. Mortridges parties, and had been shocked to hear 
members of parliament casually discussing the destruction of the Ryall home 
worlds. She spoke of the growing pessimism at home as the public absorbed each 
new casualty report and of the swelling desire to be done with the war.
Drake, who had listened quietly in between bites of food, commented on the 
latter point. We feel it out here in the fleet as well. Frankly, I was 
primarily worried about the battle to take Spica away from the Ryall. I think I 
underestimated how difficult it would be to hold on after we established our 
blockade. Somehow, casualties sustained while advancing on an objective are 
easier to take than this continuous bleeding we have been doing while on 
blockade duty.
Are you saying that the Ryall are winning? Bethany asked, suddenly wondering 
if she were on a fools errand herself. Showing the Ryall mercy was one thing if 
they were prostrate before the human fleet, and something else again if they 
were winning the battle. In fact, the difference was crucial to the success or 
failure of her plans.
Not at all. We destroy fifty of their ships to every one we lose. The problem 
is, they have more than twenty worlds strung out behind those seven foldpoints. 
A world is an indescribably large resource for them, a reservoir of strength and 
supplies. We, on the other hand, are at the end of a supply line that stretches 
back a dozen foldpoints. We are woefully outmatched in the number of ships we 
can commit to battle, while they have to feed their forces through the 
foldpoints to get at us. That gives us the advantage so long as we have enough 
ships and ammunition to maintain the blockade. Currently, supplies are adequate. 
Patience is the commodity we seem to have in the shortest supply. I just hope we 
can stand the strain long enough for them to run out of resources.
Now it was Bethanys turn to nod agreement. That is the problem at home. People 
are losing patience with the war. They think they perceive the end of the 
nightmare, and they are anxious to wake to a bright new day.
 Sorry I interrupted you, dear, Richard said around a piece of warm toast. 
Continue with your story.
The breakthrough came when Varlan was in another of her fertile phases. The 
physiological changes were especially severe this last time, so I offered to 
assist her She told Richard of her idea to obtain a Ryall prisoner to 
fertilize Varlans eggs and, in effect, ease her misery. She then described her 
surprise, and then growing excitement, when Varlan adamantly refused. She then 
paused for effect and noticed the look of incomprehension in his eyes.
Dont you see the significance, Richard? I offered her an option that would 
have satisfied one of her most basic instincts, yet she refused violently. For 
a second, I thought she was going to bite me.
Did she say why when she refused?
She told me that it would be immoral for a captive to bring hatchlings into the 
world.
He nodded. Thats certainly a reasonable point. We would probably have reacted 
the same.
Of course we would have. The sublimation of the mating urge while held captive 
by our enemies is a perfectly reasonable act among humans. It is not reasonable 
for a Ryall. Why are we at war with these beasties? she demanded, aware that 
her voice was becoming shrill, yet unable to control it. They attacked us on 
first sight and without warning because that is the way Ryall are built. 
Xenophobia is not an attitude with them. It is in their very genes, a relic left 
over from their long war with the Swift Eaters. They attacked because that is 
what their instinct told them to do. Varlans instinct told her that it was time 
to mate, yet her intelligence overrode the instinct.
Your point?
Simply this. If the Ryall are intelligent enough to avoid having offspring in 
captivity, then surely they are intelligent enough to know that we will 
exterminate them if they leave us no other choice.
So?
All we need do, my darling, is point this danger out to them with sufficient 
vigor that even the stupidest among them will understand it, then give them a 
more palatable option  surrender.
Not once in more than a century of warfare has there ever been a case of a 
Ryall ship surrendering before we managed to pulverize it into scrap metal. Then 
the survivors dont really surrender. They merely allow us to collect them after 
their situation has become hopeless.
They havent surrendered because one Ryall warship is not significant in the 
grand scheme of things, at least, not the way they look at it. Things have 
changed, Richard. You and this fleet have changed them. We are now in position 
to destroy their entire species. While they were winning the war, their 
instincts and their intelligence were in harmony. Both told them that the best 
way to keep the hatchlings safe was to destroy us. Now that we sit astride their 
major lanes of commerce and are slowly throttling their economy, they know that 
we will soon be in position to rain atomic fire down on their heads one home 
world at a time.
That is why they are working so hard to break through the blockade..
She nodded. Consider what it must be like on the other side of the foldpoint. 
Suddenly, after more than a century of fighting, the dreaded bipedal monsters 
are preparing a knockout blow. The Ryall instinct is to fight, but their 
intellect is telling them that the fight will likely be futile. No longer are 
their brains in sync with their instincts. A fight to the death is a lot more 
attractive when it is the other guy you expect to do the dying.
The Spica invasion has shaken their confidence to its core, Richard, and as a 
result, if we give them the proper incentives, the lizards may be ready to 
listen to reason for the first time in more than a century.
Drake opened his mouth to reply, but no words issued forth. At that moment, 
alarms began to sound all through the ship.
#
Chapter 22
Admiral Sergei Gower was on duty in his Combat Center when the nearby 
Spica-Darthan foldpoint exploded in photonic fire. Six distinct points of light 
lit up the blackness of space before turning into boiling nebulae of radiance 
that expanded outward at nearly the speed of light.
Report! he ordered.
They are tonne-yield antimatter bombs, Admiral. Six of them. Distribution 
across the foldpoint appears to be random, as you would expect at the end of a 
jump. They have added something new, however. Those clouds are a smorgasbord of 
ionized atoms, with high oxygen content. It seems to have been brewed up 
especially to make it difficult for our sensors to see through the clouds.
Primarily ionized oxygen? he asked.
Thats what the spectral analyzers say, Admiral.
Damnit! Oxygen will corrode hell out of most of our sensor coatings.
Yes, sir. I suspect they know that.
How long until the first cloud engulfs our closest units?
Ninety seconds, sir.
Gower scowled and punched for the fleet-comm channel. All ships. They are 
trying to mess with our sensors. That cloud contains highly energetic oxygen 
ions. Calculate when you will be engulfed and shut down all but essential 
sensors required for combat. You will secure no earlier than fifteen seconds 
before you are engulfed, and remain secure until concentrations again drop to 
safe levels. High Guard, shift to maximum sensitivity and relay to all ships. 
Keep sharp up there. You will be our eyes for this battle.
Gower watched as pinpoints on his battle display acknowledged his order. High 
Guard consisted of half a dozen sensor-laden craft stationed well back from the 
foldpoint. Their offensive power was nil, but they had the best eyes in the 
fleet, and more importantly at the moment, the best protected eyes. The problem 
was communications delay. There would be a nearly one-tenth second delay between 
observation and relay, and in a space battle, where milliseconds counted, 
one-tenth second was an eternity.
Decoys are being destroyed in Quadrant Seven, Sub-Quadrant Beta, Admiral. They 
seem to be concentrating their fire there.
What force have they sent through?
No identification yet. We should have them in another few seconds. The clouds 
are dissipating quickly.  Coming through now. I make it two hundred ships, 
including three heavies. Shit! They are orbital fortresses, Admiral. They are 
pouring everything they have into Seven Beta!
Gower again activated fleet-comm. All ships. This is a major push. Their fleet 
has three orbital fortresses with them. All weapons, maximum rate of fire. 
Concentrate on the heavies. I repeat, major fire on the heavies.
He had no sooner finished his order thanRoyal Avenger began to buck as 
electromagnetic cannon accelerated missiles out of their launchers. At the rate 
they were firing, the blastship would run dry of ordnance in less than fifteen 
minutes. Hopefully, the Ryall would not stick around that long.
Report fromConstantine , Admiral. Farragutjust exploded. Communications reports 
thatConstantine ceased transmission in mid-sentence. RohatanreportsConstantine 
took a major hit, but is still on their screens. FleetPlot reports general 
movement by all Ryall craft in the direction of Seven-Beta. First contact, 35 
seconds...
Gower set his jaw and listened to the continuous drone of damage reports on the 
command circuit. In quick order, his fleet lost six ships, including two heavy 
cruisers, one vaporized with all hands.
The good news was that the lizards were paying dearly for their audacity. As 
quickly as blue icons representing human ships were blinking off the screens, 
red icons were disappearing faster. Almost as quickly as he gave the order to 
concentrate fire on the orbital fortresses, one of the big, lumbering brutes 
flashed into incandescence. Gower gave thanks to whoever or whatever had gotten 
it. Of course, any ordnance it had managed to launch between breakout and 
destruction was still en route and would remain dangerous until it either ran 
out of fuel or exploded against a human ship.
The expanding clouds of ionized plasma from the antimatter bombs produced an 
unexpected effect. The bombs had polluted space with several hundred ionized 
atoms per cubic centimeter. As a result, the powerful laser and particle beams 
no longer drilled their invisible holes in space. The passage of each energetic 
beam left a ghostly emerald trail of turbulent plasma in its wake.
The battle had turned into a surreal light show with thousands of glowing green 
threads weaving their deadly webs through the oxygen-rich plasma. The scene 
would have been beautiful had it not been so deadly. Sergei Gowers admiration 
for the sight soon turned to horror as he thought through the tactical 
implications of those straight lines of translucent radiance.
Since the start of the Ryall-human war, it had been a military fact that the 
force defending one end of a foldline had a nearly insurmountable tactical 
advantage over an attacker. Not only did the defender have time to sow his mines 
and deploy his ships to optimum advantage, but he could also hide them among 
millions of decoys. In effect, he could hide his fleet in plain sight.
The six expanding clouds of plasma from the antimatter bombs had largely 
enveloped the two warring fleets and were on the verge of merging into a single 
large cloud. The ghost-like tracks left by the passage of laser and particle 
beams had little effect on the Ryall tactical situation. Their ships were 
thrusting at maximum power for the developing hole in the human blockade and 
their drive flares ended any hope they might have had of camouflaging their 
position.
Sergei Gowers ships, on the other hand, had been deployed with the care of a 
geneticist combing over the genome of his first-born. The oxygen-rich plasma 
cloud effectively defeated all of his best-laid plans for defense of the 
foldpoint.
With plasma trails leading back to every ship that had fired either its lasers 
or particle beam cannon, it didnt take too many shots before each human ship 
was the focal point of dozens of threads of dim radiance of their own making. 
The Ryall ships noted where these threads crossed to pinpoint the positions of 
their adversaries. Sorting out the human defenders from among their decoys 
suddenly became easy. The decoys were the blips that were not shooting at them.
As ship after ship in the affected quadrant began to be hit by return laser 
fire, Gower considered ordering a halt to beam-fire altogether, but quickly 
discarded the idea. Lasers were primarily antimissile weapons, and while enemy 
long-range lasers might punch holes in hull armor, they were ultimately far less 
destructive than a nuclear warhead.
All ships. They are tracking your beams through the soup. Take evasive action, 
Evasion Beta Three.
While he watched, other Ryall ships continued to wink out of existence. What had 
started as a fleet of two hundred was down to eighty and dropping.
The same display that showed him the growing Ryall losses also outlined the 
sudden gaping hole in the human blockade globe. The general movement of Ryall 
ships continued in that direction.
We have breakout, a calm voice announced in Gowers ear.
Seven Beta?
Yes, sir. At least a dozen enemy ships have cleared our formation and are 
accelerating away at high speed.
Gower nodded. That was to be expected. The first job of any breakout force would 
be to complicate his tactical situation. In this case, that would probably mean 
a high-speed run to Spica, a gravity well maneuver around it, and then a high 
speed dash back here, arriving just in time to help the next breakout wave as it 
materialized in the foldpoint.
Tell Fleet about the breakout. We are going to need backup.
Yes, sir.
Five minutes passed slowly. One of the surviving orbital fortresses exploded 
sometime in that period, but Gower was too drained to feel any triumph. With the 
second fortress gone, fire shifted to the third and Ryall ships began to 
disappear of their own volition as they began to jump back to theirown side of 
the foldpoint. With the breakout successful, the need for courage had evaporated 
and the Ryall commanders dutyiesshifted to saving what ships they could.
The first to go was the surviving fortress. It did not get away unscathed. 
Spectral analysis showed it leaking oxygen and water vapor before it disappeared 
back into the foldpoint. Still, whatever damagehad been inflictedwas inflicted 
on it , the fortress still had use of its jump generators.
The smaller survivors quickly followed. Within seconds, the foldpoint was empty 
of everythingbutexcept the dead and the dying.
#
The battle staff manning the Fleet Operations Center aboardConqueror II had been 
enjoying a quiet morning. For once, therewerehad been no Ryall probes in any of 
the foldpoints, and humankinds possession of the Spica system was temporarily 
unchallenged.
Aboard the flagship, as aboard the rest of the ships in the fleet, exhausted 
crewshad used the weeklong respite to make repairs, replenish their stocks, and 
run diagnostics on their ships andtheir armament.
In the Fleet Operations Center, that left time for catching up on overdue 
reports and speculating about the woman the Admiral had in his sanctum 
sanctorum. While it would not have been good form to stare, more than one 
officer  male and female  felt the need to turn around to check the secondary 
status displays on the aft bulkhead, and in the process, surreptitiously lift 
their gaze to check out the figures in the glass bubble suspended above and 
behind them.
The first alarm changed the easygoing character of the mornings activities. 
Suddenly, acceleration couches were raised to sitting position, and fingers 
began a staccato dance across keyboards to punch up status displays. Something 
bad was happening and it was their job to figure out what, and then coordinate 
the fleets response.
Individual displays and their large bulkhead counterparts began to change as 
data flowed in from all over the system. The Spica-Darthan foldpoint switched 
from emerald to crimson,followed almost immediately by the Spica-Rylmar and the 
Spica-Tarnath foldpoints. In fact, when one considered the communication delay 
from each of the three zones of battle, whatever had set off the alarms had 
happened as close to simultaneously as Einsteins theory of relativity would 
allow.
What is going on, Richard? Bethany asked as hooting alarms filled the 
compartment.
Something is happening in several of the foldpoints, he replied as he began 
rapidly punching up displays of his own. It looks like the coordinated attack 
we have been worried about.
The transparent sphere that separated them from the operations center suddenly 
turned opaque as a holographic overview of the systemformedwasprojected in front 
of them.
Dunbar!
Yes,aA dmiral, one of his staff officers answered over the command circuit.
Get me a situation report from the affected foldpoints.
Aye aye,Admiralsir .
Toshida.
Sir?
Any reports from the other four?
Negative,sir, although two are still beyond our light horizon. Being beyond 
the light horizon meant that the communications delay between the foldpoints 
and the fleet was longer than the time that had elapsed since initiation of 
hostilities. We should know within ten seconds 
The seconds ticked down like minutes. At the end of that time, there were no 
more reports of fighting. Drakebegan to breathe again.
letoutofsighofrelief.
We have Ryall activity in three foldpoints, Admiral, Commander Dunbar 
reported. Looks like antimatter bombs with a new wrinkle. We have clouds of 
ionized gas racing outward from the site of the explosions. Our sensors cant 
penetrate it.
Over the next seven minutes, they watched the battle unfold, in not only the 
Spica-Darthan foldpoint, but all three of them. Drakes stomach turned to lead 
as he realized that the Ryall had achieved a breakthrough in the foldpoint from 
Darthan, their species original home. Then in quick succession, reports from 
the other two foldpoints told of additional breakouts.
How many shipstotalaltogether ? he demanded.
Were getting the information in now, Admiral. A dozen at Spica-Darthan, eight 
at Spica-Rylma, and twenty at Spica-Tarnath.
Where are they headed?
They all seem to be diving for the star, sir.
He nodded. Gravity-well turn, of course. Tactical, any chance they might be 
trying to join up?
No indication one way or the other yet, Admiral. It would be the smart way to 
bet. A gravity-well turn around a star lends itself to a hyperbolic tactical 
rendezvous.
That it does, Drake replied. Spaceshipsawe re not airplanes and havedno need 
to keep the pointy end into the wind. Usually when a ship wanted to reverse 
direction in vacuum, it flipped end-for-end and began thrusting in the direction 
from whence it came. While conventional, the maneuver was about as subtle as the 
kiss of a spaceport joy girl. In the current situation, it was also a good way 
to attract a missile, especially during that portion of the maneuver whenthe 
ships velocity reversed. For an instant, the maneuvering vessel was hanging 
stationary in space and a prime target for any enemy within range.
The presence of Spica nearby offered the Ryall an alternative and significantly 
complicated Drakes job in the process. Instead of accelerating away from 
whatever foldpoint they had broken out of, then slowing and reversing course, 
the fugitive Ryall fleets were all accelerating directly for the system primary. 
By diving close to Spica, the escaped enemy ships could sweep by at high speed 
just beyond the stars chromosphere while thrustingviolentlydirectly toward the 
star. If done properly, their hyperbolic orbital velocity would sweep them 
safely past before they rammed the star. The result would be a tight orbit 
around Spica; followed by a fast climb along whatever orbital path they chose.
If the three breakout forces timed the maneuver properly, they would regularize 
their orbital planes during the gravity-well turn, link up, and come boiling out 
of the sun like a flock of mad hornet-birds, giving some blockade commander 40 
additional enemy warships with which to contend during the next breakout 
attempt. It was the space version of the classic hammer-and-anvil maneuver that 
dated back to at least the Sumerians.
Of course, we cant predict which foldpoint they will be aiming for until after 
they round the star, Drake said to his tactical officer via intercom.
Unfortunately true, Admiral. When we do find out, it will be too late to get a 
true blocking force into place to stop them. A nice maneuver on the part of our 
Ryall friends.
Any guesses?
Darthan, sir. They should have more resources behind that foldpoint than any of 
the others.
So we send our reserves to back up Sergei Gower?
No, sir. Darthan is the best bet, but it could be any foldpoint on this side of 
the star. Well have to wait to see their departure vector from Spica before we 
can move.
By which time it will be too late to intercept from here.
Yes, sir.
Drake furrowed his brow.  Whoever had planned this particular attack had put as 
much thought into it as humanity had spent plotting the invasion of Spica. Until 
the errant Ryall ships committed themselves to a particular departure orbit 
following their gravity-well turn, there was no way to tell where they planned 
to strike. He thought Commander Dunbars guess that the Darthan foldpoint was 
the logical target was a good one, but no matter how logical, he couldnt risk 
the future of the human race on a hunch, especially one that had only one chance 
in seven of being right.
It had cost theRyallmnearly five hundred ships in three foldpoints, but the cost 
may well have been worth it. In expending those ships, theyRyallhad managed to 
temporarily turn the tables on his fleet. Following rendezvous, their breakout 
force would hold the advantage in both position and velocity, which in space war 
was the same as holding the high ground in an infantry battle. The only way he 
would be able to block their path was to get his relief force immediately 
underway. But underway for where? At the moment, he had nothing but conjecture 
to tell him where they were going. If he waited until the Ryall looped around 
Spica to get his ships underway, there would be no time to intercept 
theinterlopersRyall ships , let alone to destroy them.
He was in the sort of space-time box that every commander attempted to contrive 
for his opponent. The question was, how was he going to get out? If he did not 
know where they were going, how was he going to get ahead of them in time to do 
any good?
It was then that a stray thought materialized somewhere deep in his brain and 
floated tentatively to the surface. He mulled it over for long seconds, 
wondering if it were too obvious to be of any use, or just obvious enough to be 
brilliant.
The truth was that he could not predict which foldpoint the Ryall breakout force 
would hit, but where they were going was as plain as that glowing ball of hot 
gasses on the viewscreen. While the Ryall fleet could use a gravity-well turn to 
disguise their ultimatetarget long enough to prevent him from bringing up 
reinforcementstarget, they could not disguise their destination. They were 
headed forthe system primarySpica . They would swoop low over the star, scrape 
the chromosphere nearly close enough to boil their hull plates, and then pop up 
on a beeline for one of his blockading fleets. While close to the star, however, 
they would have to follow a path preordained a thousand years ago by Sir Isaac 
Newton. Any deviation from their properorbital track and they would pop up out 
of the star and fly off inthe wronga directionthat would pass nowhere near 
whatever foldpoint they planned to attack.
.
It would be during closest approach to Spica, when their sensors would be 
practically blind in the plasma soup and their environmental control systems 
running near overload, that they would be most vulnerable.
Richard considered his choices and risks. He felt his stomach turn to lead at 
what he was about to do, and then made his decision.
Tactical, prepare the fleet for a speed run.
Aye aye, sir. Where to?
Spica. Well skim low on an opposing orbit and take them at their most 
vulnerable  while they have the star on one side and cant maneuver.
Yes, sir.
Drake watched the blips showing the three separate breakout forces and tried to 
calculate when all three would pass behind the star. It was too much for one 
human mind, but no matter. The computers would tell them soon enough
He turned to Phillip, who had been standing by quietly, not wanting to disturb 
the admiral at his work. Commander, you had best get back to your ship. We will 
be under high gravs within an hour. You will need the time to prepare.
On my way, Admiral.
Phillip arrowed for the nearby hatch and was gone so quickly that Richard 
thought he could feel the breeze of the princes passing. He turned to his wife 
and said, Wed best get you to an acceleration couch.
What is going on? she asked. There was fear in her voice.
Were going to slug it out with the Ryall as they make their gravity-well 
turn.
What does that mean?
It means that we are going to fight a battle within the corona of a star.
#
 
Chapter 23
&nbsp;
Since the fleets arrival in the Spica system,Richard Drakehad spent many hours 
watching the ever-changing lightshow that were Spica A and B. Giant solar 
prominences would explode spaceward every few hours from each star, only to be 
wrenched into graceful spiral pinwheels by the combined gravitational and 
magnetic fields. The eternal pirouette was endlessly entertaining, and he had 
often wondered what the two stars would look like up close.
He wondered no longer.
His fleet of twenty-four ships was currently approaching the Spica twins close 
enough that their environmental controls were in danger of overloading. 
FleetTask Force SpicaTwelvewas on a reciprocal heading to that of the Ryall 
breakout force. They, too, would whip around the star at high acceleration, to 
fly off into space more or less in the direction from whence they had come. The 
only difference was that they would round the binary stars at a slightly higher 
altitude than the Ryall were using, and would briefly have the enemy trapped 
between them and the twirling stars.
Spica-A was an angry blue-white football in the viewscreen, with its companion 
partially eclipsed behind it. Just looking at them madeRichardfeel hot. Even at 
minimum magnification and maximum filtration, the duet filled the screen and 
blasted the communications bands with static. Submerged as they were in 
electrically conductive plasma, nothing but comm-lasers could punch a message 
through to the rest of the fleet. The plasma and the heat also played havoc with 
the sensors. Many of the most sensitive instruments had been retracted into 
protective enclosures to keep them from burning up or shorting out, leaving the 
fleet half-blind as they groped for contact with the enemy.
Drake lay in his couch and watched his displays, ready to give the order that 
would send two-dozen warcraft into battle. He was not alone. Beside him was a 
second, newly installed acceleration couch. A familiar vacsuited figure lay 
strapped into its embrace. Just as she had done at the Battle of Sandar, Bethany 
was accompanying her man into harms way. Just as he had then, Richard wished 
she were safe at home.
Are you okay, darling? he asked after making sure that his words would not go 
out over the command circuit.
Fine, came the terse answer.
He didnt have to hear more. He had heard that tense monosyllabic response 
enough during their married life to know that she was frightened. Then, she had 
reason to be. Space battles tend to be quick and violent, and death often seeks 
out its victims too quickly for human senses to register.
Those were the lucky dead.
The unlucky dead were those trapped in helpless hulks on orbits to infinity, men 
and women whose blood cells had been destroyed by radiation blasts, or whose 
limited supplies of oxygen could be sensed by a popping of ears inside leaky 
vacuum suits. Then there were the really unlucky dead, spacers who found 
themselves unharmed and with plenty of breathing gas, but with neither food nor 
water to sustain them long enough for rescue.
Drake had done all he could to prepare for the coming battle, and when his 
preparations were complete, he put them out of his mind. He lay in his couch and 
watched his instruments in a stoic trance. It was as though his body knew 
instinctively to conserve its finite storesof adrenaline, holding the vital drug 
in reserve for when it would truly be needed. Astena thousand generations of 
human warriors had done before him, Richard lay quiet and contemplative, waiting 
patiently to learn what his future would be this day.
As always, when battle was imminent, he was surprised to discover that he felt 
no fear. Or rather, the fear was there, buthadbeen temporarily anesthetized. It 
was sleeping fitfully, just beneath the surface of his conscious mind. Nor, he 
knew, would he feel fear once the battle began. Then he would be too busy to be 
afraid.
In a space battle, things happen too quickly for the reaction times of mere 
synapses and chemical receptors. Thus, there is very little a human being can do 
to actually fight a starship ina battle. 
Onlycomputershavethereactiontimesneededtotrackthetrajectoryofalong-rangemissile,orfollowthethrustandparryoflasersandbeamsofantimatterparticles. 
Like lightning, many space weapons operate at the speed of light. By the time 
the human eye reacts to the flash, the actual event is long past. Only computers 
can keep up with the staccato pace of space battle in real time.
Human brains are superior when it comes to sensing nuances. Human eyes can 
detect patterns that are meaningless to cybernetic senses, even patterns that 
are not necessarily there. It is to gain these intangible skills that computers 
allow human beings to ride with them into battle. However,, butthose same skills 
are the most vulnerable to fear or doubt. In order tSo, to maximize itsown 
effectiveness, the human brain performs an act of self-hypnosis before battle. 
Despite knowing better, it wraps itself in a cloak of calm invincibility.
The strange sense of calm that had descended on Drake would not last beyond 
initial contact with the enemy. Once the action began, he would experience 
excitement, concern, worry, tension, disappointment, and elation  often within 
the span of a few seconds.
Strangely, fear would not make its appearance until after the battle. Then it 
would be time for him to tally his losses and mourn his dead, assuming that he 
wasnt one of them. After the battle would be the time for his mind to race as 
it replayed every moment, wondering if there was some decision he could have 
made smarter, or action done or undone that would have been better otherwise.
Where are they? Bethany asked, her own eyes scanning the viewscreens just as 
every pair of eyes in the Fleet Operations Center below was doing.
Patience. Unless they broke off the approach when they detected us closing on 
the star, we should see them in another two minutes.
The Ryall commanders tactical position in the coming battle would be one that 
Drake did not envy. In order to use the double star for a close-in gravity-well 
turn, the Ryall ships would have to maintain a very precise trajectory. There 
would be no room to maneuver or to dodge, as any deviation from nominal would 
skew the breakout forces departure course wildly wide of their target as they 
departed the twins.
From observations made before the Ryall ships disappeared behind the two stars, 
it appeared that their target would be the Spica-Darthan foldpoint. Orbital 
mechanics being what they are, that fact gave human strategists the exact time 
when they could expect the next Ryallattack force to appear in the foldpoint. 
Even now, ships were rushing to reinforce the Darthan blockade fleet. Some of 
them would actually arrive in time to do some good.
Of course, Drake considered; the whole thing might be a ruse. The breakout force 
could be heading for Darthan in order to take attention from one of the other 
foldpoints where the real breakthrough would take place. If that were the case, 
sending reinforcements to Darthan was merely cooperating with their plan.
Suddenly, alarms sounded and symbols flashed on the tactical screens. A 
telescope zoomed in on the disk of Spica-B and there, looking like a peculiarly 
linear array of miniature sunspots, was the Ryall breakout force.
Attention, All Hands and All Ships, the voice of Commander Jerome Considine, 
his tactical officer, announced over the comm circuit. Enemy in sight. Prepare 
to attack!
#
Esssau of the Grassy Plain Below the Blue Mountains lay in his own acceleration 
couch, outwardly different from a human model, but performing the same function. 
The roar of his ships engines was in his ears as he let his head scan side to 
side at the end of a long supple neck. Twin obsidian orbs scanned widely 
separated instrument readouts as an active brain searched for evidence of the 
enemy bipeds he knew to be somewhere among the solar prominences.
The close passage by the binary star had necessitated protecting many of the 
more sensitive instruments, leaving him feeling as though he were a half-blind 
balloon fish swimming in muddy water. Somewhere out there were the ships of the 
bipeds, and the fate of his species depended on him detecting them at maximum 
range.
The fact that they were probably outside his own close-in orbit did nothing to 
assist him in his task. His force would be silhouetted against the blue-white 
radiance that was threatening to melt hull plates, while the biped ships would 
be blackness against a black sky  at least, in the visible wavelengths. This 
close to the dual-star, they too would be glowing bright in the near infrared 
wavelengths, and that was where he had his sensor technicians searching.
Monster fleet in sight. I make it two twelves, just as they were when we lost 
them behind the stars, his chief sensor technician reported.
Where, Vistar of the Gorge Clan? he demanded.
The coordinates he received translated to forward hemisphere, halfway to the 
zenith. The farseeing vision devices were already looking in that direction. 
They showed nothing yet.
How long until we are in range?
A gross of heartbeats, Esssau.
Signal the other ships. They are to begin firing at maximum range. I want space 
alive with our darters! Remember, our task is to get past them with as few 
losses as possible, not to engage in a fish fight.
While Vistar issued orders via comm-beam, Esssau made sure that everyone 
aboardSwift Eater knew their duty. They were a good crew. Their skill  and the 
Fates of Fortune  had brought them this far and would see them through the 
coming fight.
Esssau thought back to the terrible fight just finished. Two gross ofTt he 
Races finest ships had invaded the portal from Darthan. More than half of them 
had died before they could make good their escape. Esssaus eggmates numbering 
in the twelve-cubed had died with their ships, willingly sacrificing themselves 
so that a few of their number could break free of the bipeds trap.
Swift Eaterhad been among the lucky survivors that had won free to the relative 
safety of open space, and since Esssau was the senior shipmaster among them, he 
had taken command. Later, as they had approached the dual stars that were this 
systems primary, two additional fleets of survivors had matched velocities with 
him, giving him justoverunder three twelves combatants.
The combined fleets were numerically superior to the force the bipeds had sent 
out to intercept them, but this would be one battle where numbers did not count 
for much. It would do Esssau andTt he Race no good to slug it out with their 
enemies, trading them ship for ship. In this system, the bipeds had more ships 
than The Race, and if he were going to change that, he must keep an appointment 
back at the star portal.
No, he would have preferred to avoid a fight, but it was not to be. There they 
were, glowing bright in the infrared sensors, closing on his own ships with the 
combined velocity of converging orbits.
Enemy in range. We are opening fire, came the hissing report from his tactical 
technician. Swift Eaterrecoiled as deadly fire-tailed orbs left their magazines 
to go in search of the enemy. Sudden expulsions of vapor told of ravening beams 
reaching out to intercept enemy ordnance.
Enemy ship destroyed, the report came a dozen heartbeats later. A seeker of 
the second order, it appears.
This battle was different from the one in the star portal. Then his ship had 
dodged and weaved, and varied its acceleration continuously in an attempt to 
confuse enemy computers. This time there was no acceleration other than the 
smooth, steady thrust that kept them on path around the star. Here, too, the 
Monsters had the advantage. Esssau could not change course if he was to complete 
his mission. His enemies were under no such constraints.
Etheldreljust exploded. AlsoViran. 
Keep firing, Esssau ordered.
Another enemy destroyed!
For another dozen heartbeats, reports of dying ships flooded the communications 
bands. The two fleets had closed to their minimum approach distance and ordnance 
filled the gap between them. Just as at the star portal, the Monsters were 
taking a heavier toll of his ships than he was of theirs, but the kill ratio was 
nowhere near as lopsided as it had been.
We are under attack, Vistar reported. Multiple biped darters inbound. We are 
engaging with light beams. We are destroying them. It looks like we will be
Esssau, commander of the Ryall breakout force, did not have the opportunity to 
hear what his sensor operator had to tell him. He, his operator, and his ship 
became an expanding globe of plasma long before Vistar could complete his 
report.
#
We got another one! someone whooped on the command circuit.
Drake heard Pelham Carter order communications discipline, but paid it no 
attention. Carter would fightConqueror II . Drakes job was the whole battle. So 
far they had been winning, but at a terrible cost.
Any hope he had that the Ryall would not spot them had evaporated when, upon 
closing to maximum range, the lizard fleet had begun spewing out missiles as if 
their magazines had infinite capacity.
Humanitys response had been to match them weapon for weapon, and then up the 
ante. Once again powerful lasers and particle beams had lashed out at the enemy, 
this time through the hydrogen-rich soup that enveloped the twin stars. Once 
again, the invisible beams were starkly highlightedbyamid the plasma 
atmosphereof the stars outer gas shell.
Conqueror IIresounded with a dull thud as missile exhausts washedagainstacross 
the hull. Ablative armor flashed momentarily bright as distant lasers found 
their mark, sending geysers of sparkling effluvium spaceward to disrupt the 
beams even as they struck home. Then the beam fire lessened as humanitys 
missiles drew near and the Ryall shipswereforcedto shiftedtheir beams from 
offense to defense.
The space battle became a dogfight between ruthless automatons, as human 
computers matched wits with Ryall computers to see which technology held the 
edge in speed and programming. Missiles continued to pour forth into space; even 
as Drake began to worry that Captain Carter would shoot the blastship dry.
The Ryall had drawn first blood by vaporizingASNSVictrix . Then it been a Ryall 
ships turn to be blotted out of existence, followed by another human craft (he 
didnt have time to look to see who they had been), followed by three more 
Ryall. Then had come two minutes of steady, mutual slaughter. A dozen human 
craft were damaged or destroyed, while half again as many Ryall craft met the 
same fate. Then Drake ordered fire concentrated on the ship the computers had 
tentatively identified as the Ryall flagship.
Whether flagship or not, the Ryall craft was well defended. Missile after 
missile disappeared in a puff of vapor as defensive lasers reached out and 
swatted them like so many spring bugs. Then, when it seemed like their defenses 
were impregnable, the enemy flagship quietly blew up. One instant it was 
spraying missiles and laser beams in their direction, and the next, it was an 
expanding cloud ofglowing gasplasma ultimately destined to mix in with the 
plasma from the twin blue-white stars so close below.
Keep firing, Drake ordered unnecessarily on his all fleet circuit. The 
surviving human ships did just that, if anything, filling space with even more 
lethal hardware than at the beginning of the battle. In fact, it seemed that 
they were expending missiles faster than the theoretical maximum. At this rate, 
they would be out of ammunition in another two minutes. Of course, they would 
also be out of range.
A pea-size chunk of steel arced towardConqueror II , impacting on the armor of 
the hangar bay hatch. One instant, the ship was hale and whole. The next, a 
plasma cloud flashed through the open bay, lighting it as though from a bolt of 
lightning, before slicing six decks deepto,leaveingbehind a cone-shaped zone of 
destruction.
The strike happened too quickly for anyone to be afraid. All Drake knew was that 
twin kniveshad driovendeep into his eyes as his inner sanctum flashed bright 
with violet light. Simultaneously, the armor-glass wall behind him blew out, 
sending sparkling shards spinning through the suddenly weightless ship. The 
throbbing in his eyes had barely begun when his body rebounded into the 
restraining straps and his vacsuit, which had been limp, went taut around his 
limbs.
Bethany! he yelled into his helmet microphone.
The silence sent a cold chill down his spine. Frantically, Richard clawed in the 
dark for the straps that held him to his acceleration couch. Whatever had 
happened to the ship was bad enough, but the only sound that answered him was 
that of his own ragged breathing. Suddenly, he found himself facing his worst 
fear.
#
Chapter 24
The flagships been hit!
Phillip Walkirks gaze snapped from one screen to another at the report as a 
lead weight settled in his stomach. A quick glance at the tactical display 
showed that the Ryall breakout force, which had been closing ever since they had 
come into sight, was now receding. The two fleets had passed the point of 
closest approach, and the fury of their mutual slaughter should begin to quickly 
abate. The next few seconds would be dangerous, but after that, the two fleets 
would again be out of range.
How bad? he demanded of his tactical officer.
Unknown, Captain. Their engines are down and they are on a natural hyperbolic 
orbit, although their hull appears intact.
Match velocities, minimum time, he ordered. Extend our defensive fire to 
cover them. Move!
That last emphasis was unnecessary. As quickly as he gave the order, the steady 
one gravity of acceleration thatQueen Julia had carried throughout the battle 
suddenly quadrupled as the engines roared. The steady stream of blue-white 
photons that drove the ship became a storm bright enough to overpower even the 
radiance of the nearby twins.
Phillip and the rest of the crew were flattened into their acceleration couches 
and his was not the only involuntary oof that issued over the command circuit. 
On Sandar they played the ancient game of football, suitably modified for the 
use of ice skates, as befitted a cold world. Phillip remembered being tackled 
once by a big bruising player whose respect for the Crown Prince was exceeded by 
his competitive drive. The weight on his chest as the bruiser had landed on him 
had been almost as great.
The vicious acceleration was mercifully short. As quickly asQueen Julia closed 
the distance between herself andConqueror II , her engines shut 
downinorderthatthecruiserwouldto share the flagships trajectory. The sudden 
weight disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Phillip found himself 
rebounding into the strapsthat restrained him, his arms and legs flying akimbo.
Get me the admiral, he ordered.
Sorry, sir. No response to our comm laser.
Try radio.
Too much interference from the stars, Captain.
Damn it, Comm, we are practically hull to hull. We arealmost close enough to 
exchange fiber optic cables. Surely you can punch a signal through the 
interference from this range.
Ill try, Captain.
Where is the rest of the fleet, Sensors?
Moving off fast, Captain. So are the Ryall.
Phillip began to relax. Whatever damageConqueror had taken, with the two fleets 
on reciprocal headings, they were now passing out of range of one another. The 
mutual slaughter was at an end. It was time 
andallthatwasrequiredwasforbothsidesfor both sidesto count their dead and lick 
their wounds.
Stray missiles would remain a danger for another minute or so, but each second 
that elapsed reduced even that possibility. Deadly as they were, the 
nuclear-tipped missilesthe two fleets had tradedwere optimized for high 
acceleration and relatively short range  at least on the scale of 
interplanetary distance.
Because the essence of a gravity-well turn is to get as close to a star as 
possible, and then attempt to dive directly into it while counting on your 
orbital velocity to swing you safely around,Conqueror andQueen Juliawere also 
separating from the surviving human ships, which remained under power. When the 
flagship was hit,hershehadchangedfroma powered orbitbecameto an unpowered one. 
In matching velocities with the crippled behemoth, Phillip had placed his own 
ship in the same orbit.
If both ships remained in freefall, they would emerge from behind Spicaon a 
vectorinanorbitthatwouldcarrythem thirty degreesoffanglefromwheredifferent than 
theone they wantedy wanted to be. Their speed ensured that they would escape the 
gravitational embrace of the twin stars, and if unmodified, would turn into the 
classic voyage to infinity that is the terror of all spacers.
No reply, Captain, he communications officer reported. They are down across 
the board.
Keep trying.
Aye aye, sir.
How long before we can send a rescue party? he asked his executive officer.
Not for another four hours, Captain. Our environmental controls are barely 
keeping up with the heat. Sending men in vacsuits out there now will only ensure 
that they are slowly broiled in their own juices.
Phillip uttered an oath ill suited for a future king. The truth was that now 
that they were out of danger from an enemy missile, there was nothing immediate 
he could do for Drake and his ship. Whether they lived or died would depend on 
how badly theflagshipyhad been damaged. IfConquerorstheirenvironmental controls 
were inoperative, for instance, they would be dead of heat prostration before 
anyone could get to them.
#
Bethany! Drake screamed as he clawed at the straps that held him captivein his 
acceleration couch. It wasnt a very military thing to shout, but he was past 
caring aboutmaintaining his dignity as commanding admiral. All that mattered was 
the fate of his wife.
The screens were dark, as were the overhead lights. Only the emergency lights 
illuminated his command center, and beyond the shattered armor-glass wall, the 
Fleet Operations Center below. With both compartments devoid of air, whatever 
had hit the ship must have come in through the landing bay. That was about the 
only way for a weapon to reach the commanding admirals private lair without 
first destroyingConqueror .
After a maddening fifteen seconds, Drakes gauntleted hands discovered the quick 
release for his straps. After an eternity as a captive flat on his back, 
suddenly he was floating. He carefully rotated his body until he faced Bethanys 
couch. With heart aflutter, he steeled his mind for what was to come next and 
pulled himself hand over hand to where she lay. He switched on his helmet light 
as he hovered over her. His heart stuttered as she squinted up at the bright 
light and raised one balloon-enclosed arm to shield her eyes.
Are you all right? he yelled at her.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. He leaned over and pressed his helmet 
against hers and shouted the same question.
Fine, came the muffled reply. What happened?
Rather than try to continue the conversation at full volume, he let his eyes 
scan her chest pack. The answer to their communications problem was there in the 
form of an amber light. Her comm unitwashad been switched to operate via fiber 
optic cable to the nearby console. He reached out and switched the control to 
auto.
Can you hear me now?
Loud and clear, her frightened voice echoed in his helmet. There was also an 
undercurrent of relief in her voice.
We were hit, he said, answering her first question.
How bad is it?
I dont know. Everything seems to be out. That may be a ship-wide problem or 
just a local inconvenience. Lets get you free and see if we can figure out the 
extent of the damage.
What about the Ryall?
He glanced at the time display projected up into the corner of his faceplate.
Were past minimum range and probably out of danger. In another minute, well 
be beyond the range of stray missiles.
In fact, by Drakes thinking, a stray missile was the least of their current 
problems. Atthemoment,bBeing vaporized was a far cleaner death than some of the 
others they likely faced. He let his lamp play across the display on his wifes 
environmental pack, with special attention to the glowing red numbers that read 
out suit pressure. They seemed steady, but then, sensors could lie.
How are your ears?
Too big for my own good my uncle told me when I was a little girl.
No popping?
No, the pressure is holding steady. How about you?
The same, he reported.
Relieved, he swept his lamp around the compartment. The reason they were in 
vacuum was obvious. There was a meter-wide hole in the armor-glass bubblethat 
surrounded them.. A quick movement of his lamp showed a matching hole on the 
other side.
 It came in through the hangar bay, traveled across the sphere, and then out 
through the aft bulkhead. Wife, I would say that Rickie was damned lucky that he 
didnt become an orphan today.
She gurgled her agreement before gaining control of her vocal chords. It looks 
like it passed no more than fifty centimeters above both of our heads.
More like thirty, he replied.
Whatever the particle had been, it had been small and fast moving. In one 
respect, they had been lucky. With less energy, it would not have punched 
through the bulkheads cleanly. Instead, it would have penetrated and then 
bounced around inside until both of them were reduced to vacuum-wrapped 
hamburger.
Look below, Richard!
Drake turned and let his helmet light flash around the Fleet Operations Center. 
Many of his staff had not been as lucky. Red globules of freeze-dried blood 
floated everywhere, and at least two of the vacsuits strapped in front of sensor 
consoles were missing helmets and heads.
Drake felt his stomach tighten at the sight. He warned Bethany to turn away lest 
she become nauseous. A helmet full of vomit would do nothing to help their 
situation. As his light penetrated the red haze, he was happy to note movement 
among the carnage.
Who is that? he demanded.
Admiral Drake? a frightened voice responded.
Yes.
Chief Swithens, sir.
Anyone else alive down there, Swithens?
Commander Considine, sir.
What about Lieutenant Commander Parkinson? Lieutenants Powell and Frank?
Dead, sir.
Drake felt his heart sink. To see the carnage was one thing. To have the death 
sentence pronounced on his staff was something else again. His first impulse was 
to clamber down the emergency ladder and assist Swithens, but his duty lay 
elsewhere. His next words were some of the hardest he had ever spoken.
If you find anyone alive, get them to sickbay. My wife and I will see if we can 
find a damage control party to send to help you. Ive got to find out what is 
going on in the rest of the ship.
Yes, sir.
Were heading aft. After you and Considine have helped anyone else alive, or if 
there are no other survivors, I want you to head forward to make contact with 
any survivors there. Understand?
Yes, Admiral.
Good luck!
You, too, sir.
Drake turned to Bethany and said, Come on.
Arent we going to try and aid them?
He shook his head, forgetting that she could not see the gesture inside his 
helmet. The most important thing is that we start making sense out of this 
mess. Every second we are in freefall, we are moving farther away from where we 
want to be. We have to get the engines back online. That takes priority.
He led her through a hatch and into one of the ships main longitudinal 
corridors. They had gone only a dozen meters when they came to a closed pressure 
door illuminated by a blinking yellow lamp. The telltales inset just above a 
small armor-glass window told Drake that there was pressure on the other side.
Two meters beyond the closed pressure door was another, also with a blinking 
yellow light. He reached up for the manual valve set just below the window and 
warned Bethany to anchor herself. When he turned the spill valve, his suit was 
buffeted by an ethereal wind for a few seconds before it again grew quiet.
What are you doing? Bethany asked.
Dumping the air between these two doors to make ancrudeairlock, he replied. 
With that, he unlockedlockedthe pressure door and pushed it back into its 
recess. As soon as it was clear, he gestured for his wife to cross into the 
small space beyond. He then followed her and reversed the process. When the door 
was again dogged tight, he rotated in midair and opened the spill valve on the 
other side. This time, the momentary storm ended when his suit deflated around 
him.
He opened the second door to discover that the corridor beyond filled with a 
thick haze of smoke. The blinking red alarm lights in the corridor gave the haze 
the look of a scene out ofDantes Inferno .
As Drake surveyed the damage, he thought the scene entirely appropriate.
#
Twelve hours later, the situation wasmuch improved, which is to say that the 
ships condition had been upgraded from critical to merely desperate.
Whatever the particle had been, it impacted the hangar bay door about a dozen 
meters in from the edge of the dorsal quadrant. It had been a typical 
hypervelocity strike, which accounted forthefactthatithadleftathe neat round 
hole approximately ten centimeters in diameter in the armored door. 
Unfortunately, the physics of hypervelocity collisions dictated that the entry 
point was merely the apex of a long cone of destruction.
When the bullet from a high-powered rifle hits something solid, the force of 
impact flattens its round nose. When a bit of matter moving at dozens of 
kilometers per second does the same, the physics are entirely different. Matter 
moving that fastcarriessufficientenergythatitis vaporizedsin thesame instant it 
hits a solid objectfirst moment it encounters something solid . The phenomenon 
was first observed duringsuccessful anti-missile tests at the dawn of the Age of 
Space. When interceptor contacted warhead, bothwere vaporized so quickly that 
their respective incandescent clouds interpenetrated and continued on their 
original orbits.
Beingtransformedturned intoincandescent plasma did nothing to lesseon the deadly 
energy of the hypervelocity particle, however. If anything, it increased the 
destruction. Theparticle,nowan ultraviolet-hot jet,continued on its original 
course. In the flash of an eye, it traversed the length of thehangar bay before 
slamming into the armored bulkhead behind which lay both the Fleet Operations 
and Combat Information Centers. Casualtieshadbeenextreme in both compartmentshad 
been extreme as the plasma jet incinerated people and equipmentunlucky enough to 
be in its path. Thesmallpieceof shrapnel that had nearly killedDrake and his 
wifetheadmiralandhislady had not been part of the plasma cone at all. Rather, 
itwashad been a small chunk of secondary debris.
 knockedloosewhentheplasmaflashedthroughthecompartmentbelow.
After decimating the blastships battle staffs, the plasma jet had slammed 
intotheaftbulkheadandburneditswayinto the engine spaces. There ithad dissipated 
itssenergyamongwasdissipatedamongConqueror II s photon resonators, destroying 
two and damaging six. It had also killed half the ships engineers when, in a 
final fit of fury, a small piece of the armored bulkhead had spalled off the 
inner control room wall and bounced around the enclosed compartment several 
hundred times before coming to rest in the main drive computer.
It had taken several hours to tally the butchers bill. When they finished, the 
toll was one hundred twenty-seven dead, sixty wounded.
Phillip Walkirkhad boarded the blastship four hours after the particle strike, 
by which time the two shipswerehadput a quarter-million 
kilometersabovebetweenthemselvesandthe SpicaTwins. They were still close enough 
to the intertwined stars to blister optical coatingsoff the more delicate 
instruments, butfarenoughdd istantenoughthatthe environmental systems no longer 
screamed in protest at the heat load. Drake was directing repairs on the engines 
when the Sandarian prince found him.
How bad is it, Admiral?
Bad enough, Drake replied, happy to see Walkirk, but too tired to show much 
emotion. Did you bring us any help?
Queen Juliais docked to your starboard airlock with a skeleton crew. Everyone 
else came aboard with me.
Good. We can use everyone. We are hitpretty hardhere. After 
rebuildingQueenJulia, your people have ten times the damage control experience 
that mine do.
Phillip looked around at the controlled chaos. I cant say this is unfamiliar, 
Admiral. I just hoped I would never see it again.
That makes two of us.
How is Bethany?
Lucky to be alive. We both are. She is helping in sick bay.
That had been eight hours ago. Drake had lost track of Walkirk after that. His 
people seemed to be everywhere. Fully half the damage control parties Drake 
encountered were wearing the uniform of the Royal Sandarian Navy.
Admiral, were ready to try the engines, the Acting Chief Engineer, a 
squeaky-voiced youth who still showed evidence of acne, reported. He had been 
Third Engineer before the battle. Now he was head of the department, and one of 
the reasons Drake was giving his personal attention to the engine repairs. 
Mostly Drake just floated in midair and supervised, which gave him too much time 
to think. Despite his best efforts, his brain insisted on replaying those few 
furious minutes when he had lost more than half his force and nearly his 
flagship.
In the span of five short minutes, hehad counted fourteen human ships damaged or 
destroyed. As bad as that was, the lizards had fared far worse. They were 
down3026 vessels, including the group flagship, when the lightshadgonewent out. 
Two more were destroyed as the fleets began to pull away from one another. That 
left eight survivors, and at least one of them had suffered significant damage. 
Long-range sensors were mostly out, but those still working showed a vacuum-thin 
cloud of oxygen and water vapor surrounding the fleeing Ryall craft. Oxygen and 
water vapor are sure signs of a hull breachthat could not be plugged, and 
probably more than one.
History, he imagined, would judge the latest Battle of Spica to be a tactical 
victory for humankind. After all, the Ryall had expended hundreds of ships and 
tens of thousands of warriors to achieve a breakout, and after their encounter 
with Drakes fleet, the breakout force was down to eight ships. They would not 
remain at that level for long. Already, Admiral Gower had dispatched six vessels 
to intercept and destroy theRyall survivors.
The only problem was that the tactical victory had put the taste of ashes in his 
mouth. How could anything be a victory that had cost so many lives to achieve? 
His reverie was interrupted by the sudden return of weight beneath his boots. 
Slowly, gravity built up to what he judged to be half-a-standard-gravity.
Engines are online, Admiral. We can maneuver again, the young engineer 
reported.
Excellent, Mr. Ahmed. Tell Captain Carter that he can begin shaping our orbit 
back toward the fleet.
Aye aye, sir. Where will you be, Admiral, in case he wants to know?
Drake, who had turned to leave, turned back. Tell the captain that I will be in 
my cabin. I suggest that you post your engineering watch and do the same. You 
look like you are going to collapse on your feet.
Im all right, sir.
That is an order, Ensign. You are chief engineer now. Learn to delegate.
Aye aye, sir.
Drake shuffled back to his own cabin. He thought about finding Bethany, but 
decided that he was too tired. Losing half his force had been worse than losing 
an arm or a leg. In fact, he would have gladly given both to save just a single 
ship. When he reached the cabin, he stripped off the vacsuit he had worn for the 
better part of a day, noting the smell as he did so. He hung it on its rack and 
then fell face down onto his bunk. He managed to activate the safety cocoon 
before he dropped into unconsciousness, barely.
#
Richard was shaken awake by his wifes hand on his shoulder. Wake up, darling
He opened his eyes. Sometime during the night, he had rolled onto his back. He 
blinked and a moment later, levered himself to a seated position. The noise of 
the engines permeated the bulkheads and he was pulled toward the bunk by a 
steady acceleration. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Phillip 
stood behind Bethany and looked down at Richard.
How long have I been asleep? he asked.
Almost twenty hours.
How is the ship?
Captain says that he has thrust up to one gravity and that were on course for 
the Darthan foldpoint to reinforce the blockade.
Can we get there before they try another breakout?
No, Richard, Bethany replied. They made another attempt about an hour ago. 
Sergei Gower reports that it was a maximum effort and that we slaughtered them. 
Nearly two hundred Ryall ships destroyed to only ten of ours.
What? he asked. They couldnt have.
But they did, she insisted.
Theyre early. The breakout force cant possibly get back to the foldpoint for 
another forty hours. They wouldnt try until that force is in position to 
support them.
For some reason they decided to advance the schedule, Phillip replied. 
Theyve had time to set up relay communications between their major home 
systems by now. Perhaps when they tallied up the number of ships that broke free 
on the last attempt, they realized that there were not enough of them. Maybe the 
breakout force was a ruse to confuse us. Or possibly, they just screwed up. 
Whatever the reason, they made a major attempt to break the Darthan blockade an 
hour ago and paid dearly for the effort.
Drake considered what he had been told, then got unsteadily to his feet and 
moved to the cabins small wash basin. Cold water helped rinse the sleep from 
his eyes. He ran his hand over his chin and judged the length of the stubble. He 
had, indeed, slept most of a day. He wondered why he didnt feel rested, then 
remembered all of the people who had died under his command. He wondered if he 
would ever feel rested again.
Finally, steeling himself, he looked in the mirror. The face that stared back to 
him was that of a stranger, an old man with pronounced bags beneath bloodshot 
eyes.
You know, he said to the other two people in the cabin, back when I was 
planning the Spica Campaign, it seemed so straightforward. We would invade, 
catch them by surprise, and blockade their foldpoints until their economy 
collapsed, then go in and mop up whatever resistance remained one system at a 
time. So neat, so surgical, so clean. Yet, look at us now.
We beat them back, Admiral. Thats the important thing, Phillip said.
He looked at the Sandariancaptainin the mirror. Is it, Commander? Is it the 
important thing for all of those who died so far from home yesterday? It was 
easy enough seizing the prize. Why is it so damned difficult holding onto it?
Because we have a powerful enemy whose survival depends on them wresting the 
prize from our grasp,  Walkirk replied. They have to defeat us. They have no 
choice. Likewise, we have to keep from being defeated. We have no choice either. 
If we have to sacrifice the lives of every human now in this system, Admiral, it 
will be worth it if we can just hang on.
What if we run out of patience? he asked in a tone that made it more a cry for 
help than a question.
That is why I came out here, Richard, Bethany said. I think I know how to end 
this damned war short of one side or the other being exterminated.
Drake shifted his gaze from Phillip to his wife, still looking at them in the 
reflection of the mirror. Despite her dirty face and tear-streaked cheeks, hair 
that had gone too long uncombed, and coveralls that bore stains best left 
unidentified, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
I think I am coming around to your point of view, Wife! If things continue like 
this much longer, half the parliaments and councils in human space will be 
screaming for a final solution to the Ryall problem. They will order us 
toWewillbeorderedtoattack with planet bustersand end this war. God knows how 
many good people well use up in a war of xenocide.
Or if we could even do it, Phillip responded. They are as strong on their 
side of the foldpoint as we are on ours.
So, lLetus at leasttry to end the bloodshed, Bethany pleaded. If 
negotiations dont work, there is always the planet buster optionlater. We go 
in, we talk to them, we tell them that we are prepared to destroy their worlds, 
and then we demand their surrender. Who knows, maybe their intelligence will be 
able to override their instincts just this once..
How? Phillip asked.
Bethany turned to him. How what?
How do we talk with them? The first human ship that materializes on their side 
of the foldlinewillisliableto be vaporized before it cantransmitsend aparlay 
messagetelling the lizards we want to parlay. That is one of the problems 
fightingan aliensspecies. We havent been able to work out the conventions for 
arranging a truce.
 There must be a way, Bethany said stubbornly.
Drake, who had been watching the interplay in the mirror, suddenly turned. 
Forsomereason,tThe movement made him dizzy. He regarded his wife and the 
Sandarian prince, and for the first time sincewaking himshe shook him awake , 
Bethany saw something other than defeat in his eyes.
I just may know a way, he said before he lapsed into a look of sudden 
concentration. Bethany knew the look well. Heha'd wornitthesameone when he had 
first come up with the plan to invade Spica
#
Chapter 25
Galatan ofFar Seeker lay in a bed of rushes in his cabin and contemplated the 
horror that had recently occupied his screens. Twice in a twotwelfth- 
cycles-of-the-greater-moon, he had watched ships of The Race pour out of the 
stargates and hurl themselves against the blockading forcesof the bipeds. Both 
times furious battles had erupted and hundreds of ships and crews had perished 
in atomic fire. Yet, when the radiations of battle dissipated, the Monsters 
remained in firm control ofeveryoneof the vital stargatesthrough which must 
passthe Races commerce. Despite the reckless courage and audacious tactics of 
his fellow warriors, the Monsters had triumphed again.
The first incursionhad gaivenGalatan his greatest hope. Ships oftheRaceThe Race 
actually broke free of the cursed englobements and 
dovefordeepintothegravityfieldsof the entwined starsat the center of the system, 
obviously bound for a rendezvous deepinside the corona of the twin suns. From 
there, they would shape an attack orbit for one of the stargates. His hopes were 
tempered when heis sensorsdetected a large biped fleetsetoff in pursuit. A 
single watch was allthetime it had taken his tactical crew to plot the Monsters 
courseastodeterminethattheywereon a reciprocal orbit that would bring both 
fleets to battle close to the twin suns.
The battle itself was hidden deep within the central radianceof the system 
primary. All Galatan saw were flashes of actinic light as warheads exploded deep 
within the double corona. Only later had it been possible to determine the 
outcome. This he had done by counting the number of friendly and enemy drive 
flares that reappeared when the two fleetsdrewawayfromthesystemprimaryand headed 
back into deep space. Both fleets were substantially smaller than they had 
beenwhen they first disappeared into the central radiance, but of the ships 
oftheRaceThe Race , he counted only eight.
Galatans depression was briefly interrupted when his sensor technicians 
reported a new battle raging in the stargate from Darthan. Once again, entire 
fleets threw themselves against the bipeds defenses, and once again, they 
winked out of existence as quickly as they appeared. The disaster was so 
complete that it had seemed anticlimactic when the refugees from the Battle of 
the Twin Suns were subsequentlyintercepted anddestroyed by a small force of 
biped starships.
The strain of watching the enemy everywhere victorious had been too much for 
some aboardFar Seeker . The morning after the second battle of the stargates, 
his sub-commanders reported three dead crewmembers in their resting racks, 
victims of depression and medical potions ingested in massive quantities. The 
trio brought to twelve the number of Galatans crew who had expressed their lack 
of trust in him by voluntarily returning to the Great Egg. He knew that if he 
did not take action against the bipeds soon, others would join them, and he 
would not have sufficient crew left to fight the ship.
The problem was that the range of possible actions, never very large, had 
dwindled to a single choice, and one that was no more attractive now than it had 
been on the first day of the invasion.
Since escaping the initial Monster onslaught and provoking the scorn of his 
crew, he had nearly exhaustedFar Seeker s fuel and other consumables while 
waiting for his chance to strike a meaningful blow. Twice he had been forced to 
flee Monster patrols by moving ever higher above the twin suns, until the stars 
were merely the brightest light in the sky. He had sufficient fuel to launch one 
good attack, if only he could find a proper target. As for food, he and his crew 
hadlongsince eaten their way down to the emergency rations, and those would not 
last much longer. The time wasfast approaching when he would have to make his 
move, or else resign himself and his crew to starvation. He had been searching 
for some Monster fleet against whichto hurlFar Seekermight be hurledto good 
purpose. So far, he had not found what he sought.
The comm signal echoed through his cabin, disturbing histrainof thought. 
Irritated, he called out to the ships computer to let whoever was calling 
through.
Shipmaster.
It was the voice of Sseltadar, one of the warriors that had come aboard straight 
from the hatchery, currently on duty at the sensor station.
I am here, hatchling. What do you want?
We have detected a ship of the Monsters, Galatan. It appears to be headed in 
our direction.
It is moving up out of the trade lanes?
It is. The drive flare is barely visible, indicating that the ship is thrusting 
in this direction. The bearing is steady and the light frequency is blue 
shifted.
There is only the one ship? he asked.
So far, Galatan.
Are they so confident that they feel they can take a Ship of the Third Order 
with only one of their own?
He considered the enemys actions, and decided that it was an insult. Perhaps 
they did not know how powerful a warshipFar Seeker was, or possibly, their 
recent victories had left them overconfident. Whichever the case, when they 
arrived, he would show them the sort of warrior his sept produced.
How long do we have before theyreach usget here ?
If they continue as they have been, we should see them within three 
twelfth-cycles.
Alert the Shipmaster-Second and the sub-commanders that I want to see them in 
my living quarters. If the bipeds think they can take us without a fight, we 
will show them what sort of warriors they are dealing with.
#
Phillip Walkirk was irritated. His control room, which he had honed into a 
well-oiled machine, was being disruptedas they made final approach to a deadly 
enemy. In addition to his normal duty crew, four visitors were crowded into the 
cramped space filled with display screensand all of the controls needed to fight 
the ship. One of the visitors was Admiral Drake, and though a friend, his status 
as fleet commander made Phillip nervous. The young captain reflected on the 
incongruity of the situation. As the crown prince of Sandar, his social status 
far exceeded that of any mere admiral fromthespacenavyof a sister colony world. 
However, as a professional officer serving under Drake, he was anxious to make a 
good impression, and had a tendency to hesitate when giving even the simplest 
order while he considered what Drake would think of it  and him.
The second visitor was easier to take. Bethany Drake occupied the same 
observers couch she had onmuchof the voyage from Eulysta to Spica. She was a 
familiar figure who knew the routine, and therefore, was nearly a member ofQueen 
Julia s crew.
The third and fourth visitors were the most disconcerting. Never would Phillip 
have guessed that he wouldbe hostto a couple of Ryall in the control room of his 
ship, especially when decelerating toward what might well turn into a battle 
with a well-armed lizard cruiser. Varlan and Periskay were huddled together in 
front of the main viewscreen, both secured to the deck with cargo tie downs to 
keepthem from sliding around during periods of changing acceleration.
Like the invasion of Spica, the idea for the current voyage had been Drakes. 
His plan to contact the Ryall high commandwashad been little more than an idea 
at first, but he and Bethanyhad refined it with the help of the ships computers 
duringConqueror II s long voyageto the Darthan foldpoint. 
backtoherdeep-spacepositionhighabovetheSpicasuns.  By the time Captain Carter 
ordered the blastships engines shut down, Drake had worked out the details to 
his own satisfaction. The fewblastship officers he briefed could think of 
nothing he had overlooked, although most thought him crazy for thinking up the 
fool stunt in the first place. None would say that to his face, of course.
Drakes idea for contacting the Ryall high command was to send a Ryall ship 
through to Darthan with the offer to parlay. With luck, the foldpoint defenses 
would hold their firewhen they identified one of their own, 
untiltheydiscoveredwhatwasgoingon,giving the shipsufficient time to transmit its 
message. Then, if the high command agreedto peace talks, a humanembassy ship 
would followwith the team that would do the actual negotiations.
Where are you going to get a Ryall ship? Bethanyhad asked as soon as he 
explained his plan to her.
I was thinking of recruiting Wrong Way Charlie, he replied to looks of 
consternation.
He had explained that when the human fleet first boiled out of the Carratyl 
foldpoint, the Ryall ships in transit across Spica had done one of three things. 
The commercial craft hadeither run for the safety of the nearest stargate, or 
else scattered to the far corners of the Spica systemto avoid capture. Of the 
three warcraft, two turned to intercept the invasion fleet, futile though that 
gesture had been. The third, a vessel the computer identified as a heavy 
cruiser, had avoided thekk amikaze option. Its commander had played it smart and 
fled, thus earning the human nickname of Wrong Way Charlie. He was still 
lurking high above the normal traffic lanes, close enough to observe everything, 
butfarenough distantenough to makesothatitwasit inconvenient to eliminate him.
Afterarriving at the 
Darthanfoldpoint,rendezvousingwiththeothershipsthathadtakenpartintheBattleofSpica, 
Drake transferred operational command to Sergei Gower and called Phillip 
Walkirk, whoseQueen Juliahad kept formation withConqueror IIthe whole voyage 
back.
Yes, sir, Admiral, Phillip said when he saw Drakes image on his screen.
What do you think of my plan? He had sent a copy to the crown prince as soon 
as both ships secured engines.
Might work. Dangerous though.
IsQueen Julia up to the task of chasing Charlie?
Yes, sir.
When can you be ready for space?
Two days to rearm and refuel, Admiral.
Very well. Ill transfer my flag tomorrow.
You are going along, sir?
Do you have a problem with that, Captain? Drake asked, letting a tone of 
command creep into what had heretofore been a friendly conversation.
Not at all. It is just that there is no need for you to go personally, sir. We 
can fetch them back to you. You are more needed here.
Doing what? I suppose I could turn a wrench or wield a welder while they 
putConqueror back together, but I would not be very good at it. No, the action 
will be elsewhere for at least a couple of months. Gower can fight off future 
attacks. I think the best use of my time is to try to bring this war to a halt, 
dont you?. Besides, he continued with a laugh, my wifes menagerie has to go, 
which means Bethany will insist on going, which means that you will have to put 
up with me, too, Captain.
 Yes, sir. Well begin clearing a couple of compartments for you immediately, 
Admiral.
As promised, the admiral, his wife, and their two charges had arrived via ships 
boat the next day andQueen Julia powered her engines less than 24 hours later.
The climb toward the fugitive Ryall cruiser had been long and uneventful. 
Phillip spent the time getting his ship once again ready for battle, and thus 
missed several dinners in the wardroom where Drake and his lady 
entertainedJulias officers. Usually, he took his dinner in his cabin. However, 
he  Hemadeitapointtoattendedone dinnerin the wardroom, however,when his 
executive officer reported that the Ryall would beereeating with themthat night.
Ithadbeenanormalwardroomscene,withQueen Julias eight ranking officerslined both 
sides ofcrowdedaroundtwosidesoftt hewardroomsmall square table,withand Phillip, 
Drake, and Bethany seatedat each end.opposite them. The two Ryall lay 
half-recliningat the head of the table, where they partially obstructed the 
movement of white-coated Marineswho acted as stewards on formal occasions.  
Varlan lay atPhillipsBethanys right hand, with Periskay beside her. The 
conversation had slowly gotten around to the mission and Phillip took the 
opportunity toasksatisfy a question that had been bothering him.
Periskay, you are to be the intermediary, are you not?
I am, the male Ryall agreed in heavily accented Standard. Varlan, it seemed, 
had whiled away her hours in captivity teaching him the human tongue. I will 
carry your message to Those Who Rule.
 Whattheywilldowithit,Icannotsay.
 Are you are in sympathy with our quest? Do you wish to see peace between our 
two species?
The Ryalls body rippled like a dog shaking himselftoget dry, if not as 
violently. I confess that I do not understand why you humans believe that peace 
is possiblebetween us. I defer to Varlans greater knowledge of human 
psychology.
 If you dont believe in the mission, why are you willing to do it?
 Because I have given my kin-oath to Varlan. I will carry your message and 
deliver it precisely. In addition, it is my opportunity to go home. If I am to 
die at the hands of your warriors, I will diewithamongthoseof my clan.
Bethany explained the Ryall concept of Clan Honor, which was based on kinship. 
Periskay had pledged to do what Varlan asked on his clans honor, which was as 
ironclad an oath as any Mafia don on old Earth had ever elicited fromahis 
consigliore. 
The conversationhad then turned to the details of what everyone hoped would 
happen when they reached the Ryall ship. With luck, they would make contact, 
convince the Ryall captain that they did not mean to blow him out of the sky, 
escort him back to the Darthan foldpoint with Periskay aboard, and let him jump 
to the Darthan home system. Assuming the messengers were not blown to atoms in 
the same instant they materialized on the Ryall side of the foldline, Periskay 
would deliver the message. Then, if the Ryall were amenable, a human embassy 
ship would jump to Darthan and begin negotiations for the Ryall surrender.
Despite his misgivingsas to their chances at pulling the stunt off, Phillip had 
offeredQueen Juliaforservice as the embassy craft that would enter the Darthan 
system. It would mean disabling and removingallofthth e ships weaponry, but the 
cruiser would be much more comfortable for the negotiating team than any Ryall 
ship.
Of course, that was whatought to happen if everything went well when they 
encountered the fugitive heavy cruiser. If it did not, their current voyage 
would likely end in a quick space battle and an expanding globe of plasma. The 
only question was whether the source of the plasma would be Ryall or human.
#
The enemy craft decelerates too quickly, Pelanau,Space Eater s sensor 
operatorreported.
What? Galatan asked.
They made turnover too soon and are now decelerating at a rate that will bring 
them to a halt well beyond our missile range.
Then we must prepare to move to them to engage.
Is this not an odd tactic?
It is. Your point?
That it would seem wiser for the Monsters to hit us while moving ata high 
differential velocity. That way theywould minimize the time we could damage 
them.
True. Your conclusion?
Perhaps they have calculated our fuel state and are attempting to run our tanks 
dry.
How could they know this?
I know not, Shipmaster. It is somethingwhich we should ponder, is it not?
Galatan pondered it as he watched the symbol on the screen come to a halt in 
space atexactly twice the range he could reach with his missiles. As for lasers 
and particle beams, these were short-range weapons. They would not raise the 
temperature of the enemys hull plates at this distance.
Galatan was attempting to divine the bipeds tactics when his comm operator 
reported, There is a message coming in from the Monsters, Shipmaster.
Space Eaters commander let the nictating membranes slip over his eyes for an 
instant, a sign of surprise, before answering, What sort of message?
From a member oftheRaceThe Race . He says that he is Periskay of the Distant 
Mountains in the Mist. He is Philosopher Caste. He wishes to talk to you.
Send his image to my screen, Galatan replied brusquely. This encounter with 
the Monsters was turning outconsiderably different than he had imagined.
A moment later, the image of the philosopher appeared on Galatans screen.
I am Periskay of the Distant Mountains of the Mist.
I am Galatan ofSpace Eater . What do you want?
I am a prisoner of the Monsters. They have charged me with delivering a 
message.
Why would a philosopher demean himself to speak for beasts?
I am speaking for a fellow captive, Varlan of the Scented Waters. It is she who 
vouches for the importance of the message.
Then why does not this Varlan speakfor the beasts?
She has been too long a captive of theirs and fears that you will think her 
mad. I was captured when the Monsters first invaded our space. I do not doubt my 
own sanity.
And if I doubt it, Periskay?
Then you will not agree to what my captors want and they will destroy you and 
seek out another Ship oftheRaceThe Race to do their bidding.
Tell me the message.
The Monsters who style themselves human wish to speak to Those Who Rule. They 
cannot send one of their own ships through the stargateto request such a 
meeting. It would be destroyed too quickly to communicate.
 True.
Knowing this, they would likeSpace Eater to take me through the stargate so 
that I may speak directly with Those Who Rule.
Are they mad?
By the standards of our species, I believe they are. However, this is what they 
have bid metotell you.
Its a trap! They want to draw my ship close enough to their fleet that they 
can destroy it.
They claim to be prepared to destroy it now if you do not agree to their 
request.
They will findSpace Eater a difficult meal.
Perhaps so, Periskay replied. I am not a warrior to know of such things. I 
have seen what the vessel on which I am riding can do, however. I was present at 
the battle near the twin suns and saw ship after ship of The Race destroyed. I 
am told that this ship was responsible for some of that destruction.
Periskay refused to let his ears droop in dismay, although that was the way he 
felt. What do they offer?
The humans call it safe passage. They will escort us to the Darthan stargate 
and allow us jump to the home system. Afterwards, you are required to return to 
this system to report the response of Those Who Rule. They demand a kin-oath to 
either Varlan or me on this point. Whatever Those Who Rule answer, you will be 
free to return to Darthan unharmed after delivering their response to the 
humans.
A strange message, Galatan replied.
The strangest I have ever spoken, Periskay agreed.
After a long wait, Galatan said, I will have to consider it. I will speak to 
you again within one thousand heartbeats.
I will be waiting, as will my captors. They advise that any attempt to power 
your engines in that time will be judged an attack.
I understand.
With that, the message screen went black and Galatan began thinking about his 
response to a request that was the obvious spawn of a lunatic. The only question 
was whether The Race would be better served by pretending to believe the bipeds, 
or by attacking them? Either way, it appeared thatFar Seeker was about to 
fulfill its destiny.
#
Chapter 26
Queen Julias combat center had the look of a jewelry store display window 
following one of the great urban riots that had swept Earth in the 
mid-twenty-first century  or so Richard Drake imagined. The big display screens 
were still there, as were acceleration couches for a dozen weapons operators. 
Everything else was gone, with only gaping holes and truncated cables to mark 
where sensor and weapons control stationshad once stood.
Queen Juliahad returned to thevicinity of the Spica-Darthan foldpoint in the 
company ofFar Seeker a week earlier. Both human and Ryall warcrafthad halted in 
space a million kilometers from the englobed foldpoint andhad beguan the 
transition from ships of war to instruments of diplomacy  as alien as that 
concept was to Galatan and his crew. What had followedhad seemed like little 
more than vandalism to many of the Sandarian cruisers crew. It had seemed like 
vandalism to Drake, as well, and hewashad been the one who issued the order.
The cruisers transformation involved dismounting the ships offensive weapons 
and the systems that controlled them. Luckily, its modular design made 
unplugging the various missile launchers, lasers, and antimatter projectors not 
much more difficult than changing out the memory crystal in a hand computer.
Far Seekerwas a different matter. Galatan adamantly refused to allow humans 
aboard his ship. Hewashad evenbeen reticent about letting Periskay aboard, 
fearing that the two-legged monsters might have infected him with a bio-weapon 
of some kind. The Ryall shipmaster finally relented only after the 
philosopherwashad been examined in quarantine by the ships autodoctor and given 
a clean bill of health.
Negotiationsoverconcerning howto ensurehumanscouldbesure thatFar Seeker had 
actually disarmed remained stalemated for most of a day until Galatansuggested 
asolution.put forth a solution that turned out to be relatively simple.  
Whatever the Ryall cruisers internal configuration, lion or lamb, its weapons 
wereould beof little usewithoutifitlacked the ability to 
trackhumanshipsduringitsbrieftimeinthefoldpoint.targets.  Withoutits battle 
sensorsdisabled,theabilitytoacquiretargets,the Ryall ship would be as helpless 
as an Altan tree slug.
inaspacebattle.
So, while vacsuited bipeds swarmed overQueen Julia s hull, dismounting lethal 
appliances, similarly equipped hexapods moved with surprising grace across the 
smooth ebon hull of their ship, disconnecting various antennae and other devices 
that fed data to the fire control system. Their objections to allowing humans 
near theirirship were relaxedsufficiently for aclose-upvisual inspection by 
Ensign Harkness of their hull. He reported nothing butnaked external fittings 
where sensitive instruments had once stared deep into circumambient space.
A week of hard work had transformed both vessels fromwarfighting ships to mere 
carriers of personnel. At the end of the week, Drake, PhillipWalkirkand Galatan 
spoke via videoconference.
Is your ship ready, Shipmaster? Drake asked and Varlan translated.
There followed a short burst of hisses and whistles, after which Varlan reported 
the Ryall captain ready.
Captain Walkirk, please brief our Ryall companion regarding the coming 
mission.
Yes, Admiral. Galatan, you have received your safe passage data, correct?
The Ryall head on the viewscreen tilted in a gesture of assent as hemadewhistled 
his response, which Varlan immediately rendered as Far Seekerhas been taught 
the route to swim.
Queen Juliawill leadFar Seeker through the blockade and into the foldpoint. 
Once we reach the jump point, you will be free to charge your generators. You 
may jump when you are ready. Thate time of your jump will start the countdown 
clock. You have precisely eight hours to return... no more, no less. We will 
deactivate the foldpoint defenses for a period of one minute exactly eight hours 
after you leave us. Varlan, make sure that he has the proper conversion from 
human time units to Ryall.
He understands, Varlan replied. Bethany and I both did the translation before 
the data was transmitted.
Galatan,do you understand that though the foldpoint defenses are disabled, they 
can be switched back on in an instant, do you not?
I understand.
If more than one ship materializes while the defenses are down, or if that ship 
is notFar Seeker, we will reactivate the mines and start shooting. Is that 
clear?
Yes, came the emotionless reply.
One last thing, Galatan. You understand that if you fail to return to tell us 
of the decision of Those Who Rule, that we will assume that the answer is 
negative.
I believe that the answer will be negative in any event, Admiral of the 
Drakes.
You are still honor bound to come back and tell us.
I have given your prisoners my clan oath, human... Drake suspected that he had 
been called something else and Varlan had cleaned it up in translation. ... and 
I will return to give you the decision of Those Who Rule. Whatever that 
decision, I will return immediately to Darthan and begin repairing the damage to 
my ship so that when we meet again, it will be in battle.
And if the answer is not negative?
Then I will escort you to the home world, where you will be the concern of 
those more elevated, and I will still repair the damage to my ship in 
preparation for battle.
Drake nodded. That is all you promised and that is all we ask.  Captain 
Walkirk, you may power engines when ready.
Aye aye, sir.
Passage through the blockade went smoothly. At no time didQueen Julia detect any 
emanations from the Ryall cruiser to indicate that Galatan might have kept one 
or two active sensors in reserve. Passive sensors, of course, were another 
matter. No doubt, Galatan had his crew furiouslyscanningsearched space for some 
sight of the human blockade force. However, telescopes hadvetheir limitations, 
and save for the possibility that a human ship might occult a star, it was 
doubtful the Ryallwould spottedanything.
When they reached the preprogrammed spot within the foldpoint from whereFar 
Seeker was to jump, Phillip orderedQueen Julia to a safe distance as a 
precaution. Galatan had so far scrupulously upheld his end of the bargain, but 
Phillip did not want to tempt him into firing a spread of missiles as he 
disappeared into foldspace. Guided or not, a salvo delivered from close enough 
would likely find its mark.
The precaution proved unnecessary. After a few seconds of inactivity, the Ryall 
cruiser blinked out of existence, returning home to an uncertain welcome.
#
The hours that followedwerehad been nerve-wracking for everyone aboardQueen 
Julia . Bethany spent the time forming fuzzy threads into a complex network 
using long needle-like instruments that clicked together in a way that was 
somehow hypnotic. She claimed that the ancient thread art soothed her nerves.
As for Drake, he wondered if the tension of the past several months might have 
adversely affected his judgment. How else to explain the situation? Here he was, 
anxiously counting down the minutes until his disarmed ship would jump into the 
very heart of the enemy realm.
Nor was he looking forward to negotiating with Those Who Rule. Like most 
professional military men, he had a disdain for politicians and diplomats that 
he occasionally found difficult to conceal  a legacy of his term of service as 
the naval liaison officer to the Altan parliament.
This impromptu diplomatic missionwashad been made necessary because there were 
no professional diplomats with the fleet. No one had thought to include them 
among the flotillas complement. After all, the invasion fleet's mission was to 
conquer the Ryall, not negotiate with them. The flaw in that particular 
argument, of course, was that there was no way to conclude the war 
withouttalkingnegotiating wtoit the enemy, if only to accept their surrender.
Therefore, instead of a trained ambassador, there was only a colonial naval 
officer to represent humanity on this most important mission. Luckily, the 
message he would deliver was one that even the alien Ryall would be able to 
understand. It would be short, sweet, and utterly without nuance:
Surrender or face the extermination of your entire species!
He only hoped that the Ryall were intelligent enough to face the choice 
squarely. More than once in human history, members of his own specieshad 
facedwith that stark choicehadandchosen extinction. The ancient fortress 
ofTheSiegeofMasada came immediately to mind. After a siege of three years, the 
Romans had broken intotheadeadfortresscitadel atopits impregnablethefortress 
mountain,only to findthat. Tthe Jewish zealots had killed themselves rather than 
surrenderto their enemies. 
That choicehadbeenaculturalone,achoicewas still celebrated by Jews throughout 
human space.
 WhatoftheRyall,whoseattitudesweremorethanmeretradition?
His dark reverie was interrupted by the beep of his communicator. Bethany, who 
lay strapped into the acceleration couch next to his, looked up from the 
floating mass of brightly colored threads. Drake reached up and switched on the 
instrument.
Admiral Gower online, Admiral, the voice of young Hamoush said in his ear.
Patch him through and then secure the beam.
Yes, sir.
The screen cleared to show the features of the gruff old Sandarian admiral. As 
usual, Gower had a scowl on his face.
Yes,aA dmiral? Drake said when the screen had cleared.
Were down to the thirty minute mark, sir, Gower said, maintaining the 
deference he had shown Drake as operational commander.
I make it twenty-nine minutes and sixteen seconds,Richardhe replied, and you 
can call me by my name. At the moment, I am merely a supernumerary on a light 
cruiser under your command.
Very well, Richard.
Are we ready in case they pull a fast one, Sergei?
Gower chuckled, a sound that Drake could not remember hearing emerge from him 
before. If anything other thanFar Seeker pops out of foldspace, we will give 
them a full spread. In any event, the mines will be reactivated everywhere 
butFar Seeker s vicinity the second he pops out.
Lets just be sure we dont make a mistake in the reactivations, Drake 
replied.
If someone makes that mistake, hell find himself on perpetual patrol down in 
the coronal fire of this systems twin suns.
Drake laughed. Thats one way to make them burn in hell, Sergei. Sounds like 
you are ready. I suppose you will be just as happy if they dont show.
The Sandarian admiral did something else that Richard had never seen before. He 
looked surprised.
Why would you say that?
I know that you would have preferred that we use some ship other thanQueen 
Julia for this mission. It will be hard to explainPhillipsthe lossoftheheir to 
His Majesty if we dont come back. 
His Majesty will understand. Prince Phillip must take his chances in battle 
with every other able-bodied spacer in this fleet. It is my job to see that he 
does not risk his life unnecessarily. If your mission ends this eternal war, 
then I call it a necessary risk. After all, Richard, you are risking not only 
your own life, but that of your wife.
Trust me. If I thought I could deal with Varlan, I would have Bethanys ass on 
the first boat back home.
If I could think up a plausible excuse to orderthe crown princePrince Phillip 
off this mission, I would do soas well. However, the heir to the throne must 
never look the coward.
Noblesse oblige, Sergei?
 Practical court politics. If you pull this off, Phillips rule will be a long 
and placid one. If I order him from the mission, there would always be doubts.
And I thought dealing with Parliament was difficult.
There are advantages and disadvantages to both systems, Richard. I will not 
keep you longer. I merely wanted to wish you luck and to assure you that if 
there is treachery, you will be avenged.
Thank you, Sergei. Im leaving the fleet in good hands.
I appreciate the compliment. Gower out.
Drake out.
The screen went black and Richard returned to his inner thoughts and the sound 
of Bethanys knitting.
#
Alarms began to sound around the ship just after the countdown chronometer 
reached00:00 on the screen. Despite expecting them, Richard Drake gave a start 
that caused him to surge upward into his restraints. Beside him, Bethany dropped 
her tangle of yarn and stared at the main viewscreen.
Unknown ship materializing in the foldpoint, came the report from an unseen 
sensor operator. Computers say that the ship isFar Seeker.  It seems to be 
alone.
Establish a comm link, Drake ordered. He turned to his wife and said, Get 
Varlan in here.
There was a pause of nearly a minute before the screen cleared, giving Varlan 
the opportunity to scramble through the open port and secure herself beside 
Richards acceleration couch. When the screen cleared, it showed a trio of Ryall 
withFar Seeker s bridge behind them. Galatan was not in the central position in 
the tableau, the position of honor for Ryall as it was for humans. The 
shipmaster sat to the left of an elderly Ryall who Drake did not recognize. His 
age was evident from the dull, grayish cast of his scales and the slightly milky 
sheen of his obsidian orbs. Periskay sat on that worthys right, and behind the 
other two.
Greetings, Galatan ofFar Seeker , Drake said through Varlan as soon as the 
trio appeared on the screen.
Greetings, Admiral of the Drakes,PeriskayVarlan translated Galatans whistled 
greeting.
You are as good as your word.
My clan debt to this one is fulfilled, Galatan replied, gesturing toward 
Periskay.
It is, Drake agreed. Who is it that I have the honor to meet?
I bring with me One Who Rules. He is Tarsanau of the Islands of the Lesser Sea, 
one who is empowered to speak for Those Who Rule The Race.
Varlan translated the introduction, and then continued with, In human terms, 
you would call him Senior Councilor to the Rulers of the Hegemony.
Greetings, Tarsanau of the Islands of the Lesser Sea, Drake replied. I am 
pleased that you accepted our invitation.
It seemed prudent to do so, the elder Ryall replied. Somehow, he was able to 
make the whistling Ryall speech sound perfunctory. What is it that you want?
We would speak with Those Who Rule.
Who speaks?
I am Admiral Richard Drake. I command the human fleet in this system.
You are the biped who swims in the lead position of this evil swarm that has 
taken ourstargatestargate s?
I am.
Then you have sufficient status to speak for your species?
On the subject at hand, yes. There are humans more exalted than me, but none in 
this star system.
I will speak with you, then. I am empowered to communicate for The Race in this 
matter. Of what shall we speak?
Surely Periskay has explained our purpose in asking for this meeting.
He has passed on your words. The concepts, however, are alien. There was no 
time to consult Those Who RuletheRaceThe Race , so I came with Galatan to hear 
your words for myself.
Very well. We wish to put a stop to this endless war before more of our two 
species warriors are killed.
Among The Race, war is a contest between clans or alliances. When there is a 
dispute, the contest continues until one side or the other admits defeat. When 
this occurs, the conceding clan vacates the disputed fishing grounds, or cedes 
the principle in question, or swears fealty to the superior clan, Tarsanau 
replied. However, none of these outcomes are possible when the contest is 
between competing species. We occupy land you will one day need to raise your 
hatchlings. Likewise, you are in possession of planets that will someday harbor 
our expanding population of swimmers. How can two such species make peace with 
one another?
We do not want your planets. We have more than enough of our own.
You must inevitably expand into our realm, or we into yours. That is the way of 
living things.
We disagree. Space is wide and the number of suitable planets nearly infinite. 
If we are at peace, we canturnswitch all of the effort we currently expend 
making war into exploration.
Population must inevitably expand to occupy the available living space, 
Tarsanau replied. That is the rule of life.
That is the rule for dumb beasts. It is not the rule for intelligent beings. We 
can use our intelligence to limit our growth. So can you if you wish to.
There was a long silence, as though Drake was speaking a particularly convoluted 
language and the Ryall was having difficulty sorting through the words. Finally, 
he said, An alien concept, and an interesting one. How do you propose that we 
end this contest in which we have been engaged for so long?
I propose that you surrender to us.
This time the response came close on the heels ofPeriskaysVarlans translation. 
Surrender? Do you mean place ourselves at the mercy of monsters?
I mean precisely that, Tarsanau. If you surrender to us, we will spare your 
species. If you do not, we will destroy yourhomeww orldsone at a time.
If you had that power, you would have done so already.
Without the Swift Eaters in our past to shape our evolution, we do not look at 
war that way. We fight only for our own survival, not for your destruction. Once 
our survival is assured, we have no desire to sterilize yourplanetshome worlds . 
Indeed, in time, we hope to exchange goods and ideas with you. You have 
undoubtedly found some insights into the nature of the universe that we have 
missed. We have philosophies that you will find useful. It is our way to 
exchange goods and ideas, and thereby make our two species depend on one 
another.
Then you are insane.
Drake nodded. By your way of looking at the universe, you may well be correct. 
However, do you not agree that having the fate of the hatchlings in the power of 
insane monsters isa bad notagoodthing?
It isnot, Tarsanau hissed.
Then let us speak of this difference in outlookbetween your race and mine. 
Perhaps we can come to a mutual arrangement that will forestall the massive 
bombardment of your home worlds.
You will destroy them anyway.
Perhaps, Drake agreed. But isnt it worth discussing, if for no other reason 
than, while we are talking, we wont be bombingyour home?
The Ryall gave the gesture of assent. There is advantage to us in prolonging 
the moment when your ships come through the star portals.
Drake nodded as well. And for us.
How do you propose to accomplish this insane arrangement?
We are prepared to follow you back to Darthan, where we will explain our 
thoughts to Those Who Rule. We promise that there will be no attempts to force 
our way through your defenses while we are speaking.
What is the worth of an animals promise?
Perhaps my word is worth nothing. However, Galatan has seen me keep my 
promises. Besides, how will speaking with us make your situation any worse than 
it already is?
Again, there was a long pause. Finally, Tarsanau said, I do not see how 
speaking with you will affect the Great Hunt in either direction of 
desirability. We will speak with you.
And you will take a clan-oath to guarantee our safety? You will give us safe 
passage back here to our side of the stargate when we have finished our talks, 
regardless of the outcome?
There followed a long exchange of Ryall speech, following which Varlan said, He 
Who Rules has given me his clan-oath. You will not be harmed.
 fromthetimeyouentertheDarthansystemuntilyoudepart.
Is Tarsanau able to make such a promise?
He speaks for Those Who Rule. His clan-oath is binding on them.
Very well. Tell him thatFar Seeker may lead us through thestargatestargate .
Tarsanau signaled his agreement and Galatan said, We will swim through the gate 
one human minute prior to your arrival, Admiral of the Drakes. The restrictions 
are the same for you as they were for us on our return. The gate defenses will 
be expecting one ship, no more.
I understand.
Once you are in our pond, we will send warriors to board your vessel. There 
will be an expert on Monster technology with them. You will show him everything, 
hiding nothing.
Agreed.
Tarsanau said, Once we know that your ship is not capable of attacking us, as 
Periskay assures us, then you will be convoyed to the home world where you will 
explain your heresies to Those Who Rule The Race. Is it agreed?
It is.
Prepare your ship to dive deeply into the great invisible sea between the 
stars. Alert Galatan when you are ready.
We are ready now.
Very well. Follow us in one of your lesser time periods,PeriskayVarlan 
translated literally.
One minute.
A moment later, the Ryall cruiser was gone. Richard Drake gave the order to 
begin the countdown clock and transferred control back to Phillip Walkirk.
I have the conn, sir, the Sandarian prince said over the intercom. For most of 
the next minute, swift orders flowed throughQueen Julia s electronic circuits. 
Finally, it was time.
Standby for foldspace transition, Phillip announced. Transition in fifteen 
seconds ... 
Tied down tight, Varlan?
Yes, Richard.
What about you, my love?
So tight I think Im cutting off my circulation.
Scared?
More scared than any time in my life, she replied. I love you.
I love you, too.
... Three ... Two ... One ... Transition!
#
Chapter 27
Foldspace transition complete!came the announcement over the ships command 
circuit.
Varlan of the Scented Waters heard the announcement dimly, as though through a 
vast expanse of water. She barely noticed it. She was too enthralled with the 
viewscreen at the front ofQueen Julia s stripped combat center to pay attention 
to her surroundings. It was as though the two humans strapped into their 
acceleration couches on either side of her had disappeared into a 
sound-deadening mist as Varlan strained every sense toward the screen.
That the viewscreen showed a starfield not outwardly different from the one they 
had just left was unimportant. Space is monotonous. It looks essentially the 
same no matter where one is in the galaxy. Unless the system primary is in view, 
all there is to see is an ebon expanse dotted with a random sprinkling of 
radiant points. What made this ebon expanse different was that these were not 
just any stars. They were the stars of home, stars that had decorated the night 
skies of Darthan since the days of the Great Hunt. As such, they infused Varlan 
with longing more intense than any she had experienced in her lengthy captivity. 
For the first time since the two-legged monsters overran Corlis, she was home!
 Varlan!
Yes, Richard?
I need a translation.
Sorry, Richard. I was overcome by the impact of being once again among the home 
stars.
Drake moved to replay the whistling-hissing speech that had been received 
seconds earlier.
The warriors have requested that you joinFar Seeker and follow him out of the 
foldpoint. You will follow to a rendezvous with a ship of the first class, where 
you will be boarded and searched. They want you to acknowledge that you 
understand.
Tell them that we understand.
While Varlan relayed the message, she heard Richard on the comm to the bridge. 
She had barely finished speaking when there was sudden weight beneath her feet 
and she settled gently to the steel deck. It was good to have gravity again. It 
was even better to be home.
#
Queen Juliahad emerged on the opposite side of the foldpoint fromFar Seeker and 
moved to rendezvous with the alien cruiser. Then both ships moved slowly out of 
the foldpoint, penetrating defenses that were every bit as strong as those they 
had just left. It took nearly an hour to reach the point in space where a large 
Ryall ship awaited them. This was the ship of the first class to which Varlan 
had referred. The designation denoted a blastship-size warcraft, roughly 
equivalent to Drakes ownConqueror II .
What now? Phillip wondered whenFar Seeker rendezvoused with the larger ship. 
The two Ryall craft joined airlocks. Soon after, a hangar bay opened on the 
larger ship and three small boats emerged and began thrusting forQueen Julia .
The three scouts had barely gotten underway when Phillips comm unit came to 
life with Richard Drakes voice. Captain, please join us at the hangar deck 
airlock.
On my way, Admiral, Phillip replied. He did notparticularly want to leave the 
bridge with his ship in enemy space, but in truth, there was little he could do 
if the Ryall attacked.
Richard and Bethany, plus Varlan, awaited him at the inner airlock door leading 
into the hangar deck. The hangar doors were open, illuminating the interior in 
natural sunlightin a way that flooded through the armor glass view windows and 
lit up the compartment where the three were anchored against zero gravity. 
Varlan, Phillip noticed, had moved to where the rays of her native sun 
bathedacross her bodyher in warmth . He did not remember ever seeing the Ryall 
as relaxed as she seemed to be at this moment.
He pulled himself hand-over-hand to where the admiral and his lady waited.
Good of you to come, Phillip, Richard said. Where is the Marine welcoming 
party?
On their way, sir.
No side arms or weapons, correct?
Yes, sir. Those are the orders I issued.
Good. He turned to look through the view window and discovered that one of the 
Ryall scout boats was descending into the cruisers small hangar bay. With 
incompatible airlock equipment, about the only way to transfer between Ryall and 
human ships was inside a pressurized hanger. Yet, in more than a century and a 
quarter of warfare, Phillip could not think of another instance of a Ryall ship 
voluntarily boarding a human craft, or vice versa.
He turned at the sound of movement behind him and discovered Sergeant Singh and 
half-a-dozen Royal Sandarian Marines behind him. He acknowledged the welcoming 
partys presence before turning back to the view window. The Ryall scout boat 
had grounded next toQueen Julia s own boats. There was little room to spare, 
but following the grounding, the rear of the ebon egg cleared the hatch, which 
began to swing ponderously closed.
Overhead flood lamps sprang to life as the natural sunlight disappeared behind 
the closing hatch. A minute later, there were some muffled clanging noises and 
the compartment beyond the glass suddenly filled with expansion fog. The fog was 
momentary, and disappeared as quickly as it had come, signifying that the air 
pressure in the hangar bay was approaching equalization with the rest of the 
ship. A moment later, the airlock light turned from red to green and the double 
doors swung automatically open.
Showtime, Sergeant, he muttered to the detachment commander.
Yes, sir, Singh replied before ordering his men to pull themselves 
hand-over-hand into the hangar bay. When they had gone through, Phillip gestured 
to Richard and Bethany to follow, then Varlan. He brought up the end of the 
small parade. Then it took a few seconds to leverage his body to a standing 
position and insert his boot locks into the hexagonal grid inset into the deck.
When Phillip straightened up, he found himself at the end of one of two parallel 
rows of figures  seven Marines on one side and three humans and a Ryall on the 
other. Beside him, Varlan used four of her six legs to anchor herself to the 
grid, giving at least the illusion of gravity.
The black hull of the scout boat suddenly developed a lighted curved line in its 
surface, which quickly became a lighted arc as a hatch swung open wide. Inside, 
Phillip could see the silhouettes of six-legged, long necked beings whose ears 
were all spread to maximum sensitivity.  as tThe snouts of the owners probed the 
air like hound dogs seeking a scent. Perhaps, he thought,they were breathing 
initwas the cold metallic smell of air long in high-pressure storage. Or maybe 
they were sampling the smell of too many humans packed into too close proximity. 
The Ryall milled about for a moment in the open airlock, then the silhouettes 
parted and a single figure moved out of the ship and began to pull along the 
guide wire toward the human greeting party.
As the figure came closer, Phillip saw that it was a Ryall of advanced age. He 
recognized the Ryall as Tarsanau, who he had watched speak to Drake on a 
repeater screen. Suddenly, the purpose ofFar Seeker docking with the Ryall 
blastship was clear. They had transferred the Ryall chief negotiator to the 
scout boat for transport toQueen Julia with the inspection team.
Tarsanau of the Islands of the Lesser Sea, Drake called out when the oldster 
was five meters distant. Good to see you in the flesh.
Varlan translated and was replied to in the Ryall tongue.
I come aboard your vessel to speak with you, Varlan relayed, and then 
continued in her own voice, It is a formal greeting. The councilor will be 
accompanying us to Darthan.
Please express my appreciation to Tarsanau that he was agreed to speak with us, 
and tell him we are honored to have him on our ship.
Varlan twittered for a few seconds. Tarsanaus speech was short, and seemingly 
to the point.
It is time for inspection, Varlan said. She let her hand sweep toward those 
still waiting aboard the scout boat. These are warrior-specialists in alien 
technology. You will show them everything. If you cannot satisfy them that this 
ship is harmless, there will be no further discussions.
Understood. Phillip, get your escorts down here ASAP so that we can begin the 
guided tour.
Phillip held his wrist communicator to his lips and gave an order. He then 
listened for a moment and replied, Theyre on their way, Admiral.
Good. Drake turned to Tarsanau. If you will call your warriors forward, we 
will provide them with guides. Im afraid we are short on those who speak Ryall, 
so Varlan will handle translation via wrist communicator.
 These are the guides? Tarsanau asked, turning to indicate the Marines.
No, Richard replied. Those are our ships Marines, ground warriors lined up 
to honor our visitors.
They appear ready to capture your visitors, the elderly Ryall said.
Phillip suppressed a smile and wondered if the custom of lining up the ships 
company to receive important visitors just might have its roots in a show of 
strength to awe visiting enemies.
Out of the mouths of aliens
#
It took the Ryall some twenty hours to conclude thatQueen Julia was nothing more 
than an unarmed embassy ship. Even after they finished their work andQueen Julia 
had powered up her engines to follow the alien blastship to the Ryall home 
world, they were constantly on the lookout for treachery. During the inspection, 
every human onboard had ample opportunity to observe members of the 
warrior-caste at close quarters, and most came away from the experience with 
strong impressions of their enemies.
Their hard obsidian eyes darted everywhere, and their rigid postures made them 
appear ready to attack at any provocation. They flowed through the ship, poking 
their snouts into everything, interested in the humans every activity, 
including what they were doing in the small compartments where plumbing 
predominated. To assure the Ryall inspectors that nothing was happening out of 
their sight, Drake had ordered all hatch defaults reset to open. Barring a 
depressurization accident, every compartment aboardQueen Julia would remain open 
for the length of the journey.
After giving the cruiser a going over that would have done the Altan Space 
Navys Inspector General proud, the twenty Ryall warriors split into two groups. 
One group had specific duty stations where they planted themselves and pretended 
to be statues while they observed the activity around them. Duty stations 
included the bridge, the engine spaces, and for some unknown reason, the 
lifeboat bay. Each guard was on duty for fourteen hours, demonstrating a stamina 
that impressed more than one human spacer.
The second group of Ryall guards set up a roving patrol throughout the ship. On 
average, one could expect a Ryall to poke his head through a hatch every twenty 
minutes or so. The patrols appeared to be random. Thus, the minimum time between 
inspections was just under ninety seconds, while the maximum was 43 minutes.
Life aboardQueen Julia fell into a routine of sorts following their departure 
from thevicinityofthe foldpoint. Ryall inspectors kept sticking their snouts 
through open stateroom doors, while humans studiously avoided glancing inside 
someones living quarters as they passed in the corridor en route to their 
duties. Human and Ryall acknowledged each others presence when they passed in 
the corridor, but there was no interaction. They each kept to their own parts of 
the ship when off duty  the Ryalls part being the Number Two Cargo Bay, which 
they had converted to living quarters.
After a one-week dive toward the system primary, a half-sunlit globe appeared 
onQueen Julia s viewscreens. Like all terrestrial worlds, Darthan was a blue 
marble of a planet, where oceans and continents were swaddled in swirling cloud 
formations. There was a marked increase in excitement among the human crew, and 
not a little apprehension, when their destination came into view. The biggest 
change, however, was in Varlan. She took to sitting in front of the viewscreen 
in the gutted Combat Control Center for hours; her tail twitching as she watched 
the intermixed bands of white and blue grow ever larger.
That is your home world, Bethany said after finding her mesmerized the day 
after Darthan appeared on the screen. It was not a question. She and Varlan had 
talked about growing up on Darthan extensively.
 Yes, Varlan replied. She extended a long arm and finger in a gesture she had 
learned from humans. There on the larger continent, where the great bay cuts 
into the coast to the south. Do you see it?
Bethany stared, aware of the general area at which Varlan was pointing, but not 
sure that she could make out the quoted landmarks.
That is the territory of the Scented Waters clan, my home.
Darthan was indeed a beautiful world. Like all terrestrial-class planets, it 
bore a striking resemblance to both Alta and Earth. In many places, the seas 
were more aquamarine than blue, indicating shallower depths than the seas of 
Alta. The planet also had three moons. The largest was bigger than Luna, and 
orbited slightly closer to its primary. That indicated that Darthans tides were 
much larger than Earths, especially in the regions where the seas were shallow. 
The two smaller moons were little more than large asteroids. They orbited a few 
diameters above the planet and reminded Bethany of a poem she had once read, 
the hurtling moons of Red Mars, racing across the firmament liketwin Valkyries 
flying on the day of Ragnorak Having had a chance to see pictures of Red Mars 
on her one trip to the Solar System, and not having been impressed, she wondered 
if the poet might have had some other planet in mind.
It is very beautiful, Bethany agreed. It will be even more beautiful when we 
make orbit tomorrow.
Yes, Varlan agreed. And the day after, when we go down to the surface!
The ambassadorial party would be small, consisting of Richard, Bethany, and 
Phillip, plus the pilot and copilot of the shuttle that delivered them. Tarsanau 
would accompany them, of course, as would a few of their current crop of 
bodyguards.
Choosing the makeup of the ambassadorial party had been a no-brainer  an 
ancient colloquialism that Bethany was fond of quoting. The members of the team 
were chosen for their perceived status in the eyes of the Ryall. Richard would 
lead, of course. Bethany was going because she was Richards mate and a student 
of Ryall culture and psychology. Phillipwas going along because he was heir to 
the throne of Sandar.
Varlan was to be their translator, although Bethany had the impression that 
Tarsanau would have preferred that she stay behind. From his reaction upon first 
meeting Varlan, she suspected that he found a humanized Ryall disturbing. 
Still, Varlan was the one essential member of the landing party. She would be 
their voice.
Periskay would also be joining them on the surface, although the philosophers 
command of Standard was insufficient for serious negotiating. He would be 
available to take the load off Varlan during periods of social interaction. 
What Tarsanau meant when he spoke of social interaction was not clear. Bethany 
just hoped the Ryall did not lie around a cold mud bog with their friends as a 
substitute for the cocktail party.
Over the years, Bethany had spent hundreds of hours learning about Ryall society 
from Varlan. She thought she had learned a great deal, but now that she was 
interacting with the Ryall in their home system, she was not nearly as sure of 
what she knew. For one thing, there were subtleties involved that an alien could 
never understand. The same was true when Bethany tried to explain human customs 
to Varlan. She remembered the fiasco that had resulted when she tried to explain 
why women talk to one another in public restrooms, but men do not. No matter how 
she approached the subject, Varlan had gazed at her with her unblinking ocular.
Ryall society, she knew, was organized around the clan  with the closest human 
analogy being the medieval Scottish highlands  and devoted to the welfare of 
the species. That was about the extent of what sheknew she knew. If there were 
loyalties between these two extremes, Bethany could not identify them. What 
human beings called the Ryall Hegemony was actually a series of interlocking 
alliances between extended families, all of it held together by the concept of 
clan-honor.
Clan-honor dictated the makeup of the ambassadorial party. Tarsanau emphasized 
that Those Who Rule would not treat with lesser beings, and Varlan explained 
that the councilor was not being snobbish. Rather, the perceived status of 
humanitys emissaries was an integral part of the clan-honor oath under which 
they were awarded safe passage. To send a party of lower perceived status to 
negotiate for humanity would have been deemed an insult, and could well 
invalidate their only protection in this enemy star system.
Not that it was difficult to understand the Ryall reason for minimizing the 
number of humans on their planet. The fewer ambassadors, the fewer sets of 
eyes to see things that might have military significance.
Richard had his own reasons for keeping the party small. This was no trade 
negotiation, where compromises were arrived at after a decade or more of hard 
bargaining. Their mission was simple  to stand nose to snout with those who 
ruled the Ryall and to issue their surrender or die ultimatum.
Seeing her friend was not in the mood to talk, Bethany left Combat Control. She 
had to pack. She also had to select the record cubes she would carry for 
reference. Then there was the question of the weather. Just what should she 
wear?
#
Chapter 28
The landing boat keened through the upper reaches of Darthans atmosphere, its 
wings at right angle to the hypersonic air molecules as they generated the fiery 
sheath that had characterized reentries for half-a-thousand years. Inside the 
boat, Drake sat strapped into the forward couch on the starboard side, while 
across the narrow aisle; his wife occupied the portside couch. Phillipwas 
strapped in behind him. Varlan and Tarsanau, along with six Ryall warriors, 
filled the aft end of the boat where human couches had been removed and replaced 
with padding interspersed with hold down straps of the kind normally used for 
cargo.
Drake had to admire Tarsanau. The Ryall negotiatorhadaa llowedthem tohimselftobe 
straphimpedinto the human landing craft without twitching an ear, which was how 
Ryall showed their nervousness. Drake wasnt sure that he would have been as 
blas had theyusedbeenaskedtoboard a Ryall boat for the journey down to the 
surface.
That the Ryall were allowing them to use one ofQueen Julia s boats was due to 
one of those mundane problems that writers of escapist fiction seldom consider 
when they plot their adventures. If a human delegation was to meet with Those 
Who Rule,where wouldhow where were theyto live for the duration of the 
conferences? With their xenophobic instincts, it was certain that the Ryall did 
not possess anything akin to a Hotel Universal.
We have no facilities for your kind, Tarsanau had told Drake when they 
discussed the details of the coming visit to the Ryall home world. What 
prisoners we have taken have been housed elsewhere.
The way he had said it sent chills down Drakes spine. The Ryall had been taking 
human beings off wrecked starships formore thanthebetterpartof a century, but 
there was little intelligence as to how they were treated. Most specialists felt 
that those taken prisoner were used for research to discover what it was that 
made human beings tick. The human approach to alien prisoners had been similar 
for most of the war, at least until Bethanyhad decided to study Varlan 
intensively.
We have survival shelters, rations, and other equipment for temporary housing. 
We will stock one of our own landing boats and use that as living quarters while 
we are on the surface.
I will check with Those Who Rule.
Drake had heard nothing for two days while Darthan grewever larger in the 
viewscreens. In quiet discussion with Bethany that night as they lay in their 
bed with the door open for inspection, they had decided that this was another 
aspect of the Ryall xenophobic instinct.
To Drakes surprise, Tarsanauhad agreed to allow a human boattoland on Darthan. 
Shortly afterQueen Julia took up a high parking orbit around the Ryall home 
world, instructionshad arrived giving them the precise times and vectors for 
their landing approach. Their boat would make the approach without escort, 
something that caused a short spate of speculation until Drake pointed out that 
every ground and space-based defensive system on the planet would be aimed at 
themthe whole time they were in flight. The Ryall had no need for an escort. One 
computer command and they wouldball b einstantlyvaporized.
The long drop from parking orbitwashad been uneventful, and Drake made sure that 
the boats pilot did not use his radar. Even so, they caught glimpses of a 
number of ships and orbital installations as they made their approach. For an 
object to be visible to the naked eye in orbit, it must be either very close or 
very large. Since the ultra-suspicious Ryall had kept them as far away from 
their orbital installations as possible, it quickly became obvious that there 
were hundreds of gigantic structures in orbit.
Which was understandable, Drake decided as he watched one particularly large 
space station disappear astern. After all, Darthan was the capital of an 
interstellar civilization, one that relied on trade between its various systems 
even more than did humans. Starships require infrastructure to keep them 
operational, and many of the activities that support the ships of space are best 
done in space.
Nor wasthefixed infrastructure the only thing in orbit. The planets parking 
orbits were probably crammed with starships trapped in the system by the 
blockade. Not only must there be commercial craft  bulk carriers, freighters, 
ore ships  but somewhere nearby, there was probably a fleet assembling to take 
another run at breaking through the foldpoint. Little wonder the approach 
instructions had been so meticulous. If they veered even a little off course, 
they could well run into something.
 Do you see what I see? he asked Phillip behind him.
Looks like an orbital shipyard, the prince said as a tiny spherical structure 
came into view silhouetted against the planet.
How big? Drake asked.
No way to tell. Probably a kilometer in diameter, maybe larger.
 I have something big on my side as well, Bethany reported. It looks like the 
framework of a large kite with the plastic covering peeled away.
Probably a power station, Richard replied before going back to his own 
spotting.
Then had come a short period in which only the planet filled their ports, 
followed by the high pitched keening of air beyond the fuselage, and a return to 
weight as the landing boat began to decelerate.
Their path took them halfway around the planet, in which time they swept 
progressively lower over shallow seas, deep oceans, andthen land green enough to 
cause them a momentary pang of homesickness. The surface of this world was 
dotted with massive vessels plying the seas, while in the shallows they watched 
large fishbeing herded by smaller figures.  Toward the end of their approach, 
the landing boat swept low over a wide bay. Drake caught sight of hectic 
activity on the surface of the water, as well as beneath it. The Ryall were 
amphibians, and the city they swept over was less tall and vastly better 
integrated with the water than any human city would have been. In the few 
seconds he had to survey the aquamarine fingers of canals that jutted between 
large, domed structures, he was put in mind of pictures he had seen of Venice, 
Italy. The Ryall city beneath them was Venice writ large, with wide canals 
instead of streets, and both surface and submarine traffic.
Suddenly the water city was gone and apatch peninsulaof soggy land appeared 
beneath them. The landing boats underjets came alive to kick up spray rather 
than dust. The boat came to a halt in midair before settling onto a landing spot 
on a small hillthatwas covered with common concrete. The jets died away and 
silence permeated the boat for a dozen seconds. The pull of gravity, the 
gray-green land beyond the windows, even the several Ryall hurrying toward them, 
all said that they had arrived.
A low-pitched keening from behind Drake suddenly interrupted the silence in the 
boat. He, Bethany, and Phillip all turned in their seats to discover the source.
What they discovered was Varlan, standing in a tangle of straps, her tail and 
neck extended, and her snout tilted upward toward the sky. The noise grew louder 
as she slowly swung her head side to side.
Drake looked at Bethany.
A howl of delight, his wife replied to his unspoken question, a broad smile on 
her face. Shes happy to be home.
#
Chapter 29
The air of Darthan was heavy with moisture and thick with alien smells as 
Richard Drake stepped off the boarding ladder onto the half-cured concrete 
landing pad. Ithadapparentlybeenbuiltspeciallyfortheirvisit. The landing boat 
had grounded on a small island in the middle of a blue lagoon at the center of a 
large city. Overhead, the atmosphere was a paler blue than even the atmosphere 
on Earth. A bright yellow sphere hung halfway up the sky, bathing his skin in 
balmy warmth.
Its beautiful! Bethany said from behind him as she too descended the ladder 
to the surface of the alien world.
It is, isnt it? he answered, feeling a bit like one of the ancient explorers. 
Ifheone ignored Varlan and Tarsanau, their six guards, and fifty or sixty other 
Ryall,he coulditwouldhavebeen easilyto imaginetheyhimself aswere Patrick 
OMalley,setting foot the first time on Alta. The caste of theAsforthenumerous 
Ryall who surrounded theirwas obvious.  
boatattouchdown,itwaseasytotelltheircaste. Not only didthey each carry a weapon, 
they ringed the landing boat in a perfect circlewith perhaps six meters 
betweeneach ofthem.
Sentries? Bethany asked.
Richard nodded. A living No Trespassing sign, I would say. Theyre there to 
make sure we dont wander off, and possibly to keep the curious at a distance.
Do you suppose the average Ryall is as curious about us as we would be about 
them were the situation reversed?
 Why wouldnt they be? Curiosity is one of the necessary aspects of 
intelligence, or at least, that was the way they taught exobiology at the 
Academywhen I went there.
I was thinking about their innate xenophobia. You have seen Varlans reaction 
when we showed her sketches made from her description of the Fast Eaters. Its 
almost an autonomic response.
Yet tThese Ryall dont appear to be particularly frightenedof us, he replied, 
pointing to the circle of guards. At least, they arent baring their teethat 
us.
A good point, she answered. Besides,eveneven if we evoke feelings of 
revulsion among their peopleaverage Ryall, would thatnecessarily keep them away? 
I know it would not dissuade a crowd of human spectators. If you plunked King 
Kong or some other mythical monster down in the center of Homeport, wed flock 
to see it  and the more frightening, the bigger the crowds would be.
They 
wereKingKong?Phillipasked,steppingofftheladderjustinfrontofLieutenantsHensleyandBartle,theboatspilotandcopilot. 
YouhavethatlegendonAlta,too?
Doesnteveryone?Richardasked.
Phillipwasinterruptedbefore he could answer by the arrival of Tarsanau and 
Varlan. The negotiator said something in the whistling Ryall language, and 
Varlan translated.
I trust this dry land is suitable for you to set up your habitat, Admiral of 
the Drakes.
Very suitable, Tarsanau. You have a lovely city here. Will we have a chance to 
see more of it?
Is that of interest to you?
Very much so.
Why?
Just as we showed Varlan how we live, it would help us understand your species 
better to see how you live.
Why do you want to understand usbetter? Are you not here to demand our 
capitulation? If you believe yourselves to be in the position to demand that, 
what else matters?
Among our people, we believe that increased understanding between cultures 
promotes peace.
Another strange alien idea, Tarsanau replied. Those Who Rule are not yet 
ready to receive you. It will likely be several days. In the meantime, I can 
arrange to show you something of our city so that you can better understand 
us.
We would like that.
You humans do not appear to be very efficient swimmers. Am I mistaken in this 
observation?
Compared to you Ryall, we can barely swim at all, Richard answered. We are 
land animals, not amphibians. Our specialties are running, jumping, and 
climbing.
Then I will make preparations. I will obtain a watercraft. We will embark in 
the morning. Now I must reporty our arrival to Those Who Rule. You may begin 
your work on your habitat if you like. You will not be molested so long as you 
stay within the ring ofwarriorssentries .
With that, Tarsanau hurried away, moving quickly on his six stubby legs. When he 
reached the edge of the island, he did not hesitate before plunging into the 
water and disappearing beneath the crystal blue surface of the lagoon.
The small clump of humans watched his departure before Richard turned to them 
and said, All right, people, letsget the camp set upbegin unpacking !
Five hours later, the yellow sun was low in the sky, casting long azure shadows 
across their new island home. Next to the boat were two igloo-shaped 
environmental enclosures covered with tough orange plastic. Designed as 
emergency shelters for all sorts of environments, they were airtight, with 
inflatable sidewalls and integral airlocks. Each shelter had its own 
atmosphere-recycling unit, humidity distillation still, and packing crates 
filled with emergency rations. The two shelters would support the five of them 
for thirty days without need for supplementing their diets from the local 
biosphere. In addition totheirhaving walk-in airlock entrances, the two 
hemispherical tents were connected via a tubular crawlway and powered through a 
heavy electrical cable from the landing boats fusion generator.
In addition to food supplies, waste reclamation, and atmospheric regeneration 
units, the shelters had compact analyzers that gave them readings on the 
composition of the outside air. Darthans atmosphere was a good five percent 
richer in oxygen and ten percent higher pressure than the atmospheres of either 
Alta or Earth. That extra oxygen explained the euphoric feeling they had been 
experiencing all afternoon as the five of them worked to set up the enclosures. 
Offsetting the oxygen-rich mixture was the fact that the air was saturated with 
humidity, making it difficult to get rid ofwaste body heat in the balmy 
sea-tinged breeze that blew across the lagoon.
It reminds me of Paris Island in the Lesser Sea, Bethanyhad remarked to 
Richard as they sweated to transfer the ration cases to their new homeaway from 
home.
It does, doesnt it? he replied with a smile. He remembered their last trip to 
Paris Island with considerable fondness. For two weeks, they had done nothing 
but lie on the beach, soaking up Valerias rays during the day, and making love 
at night. In fact, Ritchie was conceived on one particularly wild night during 
that vacation. At the thought of their son, Richard felt a pang of guilt that 
both his parents were so faraway from him. Still, if this worked out, their son 
would grow up in a galaxy at peace. And if it didnt
Well, it doesnt remind me of anything, Phillip said as he finished anchoring 
the last of the tent guy wires to the damp concrete and wiped sweat from his 
eyes. I come from an arctic world.
Bethany laughed and pretended to shiver. I remember.
One advantage of the high humidity of Darthan was that their distillation stills 
had topped off the emergency tanks with water before they finished their 
encampment.  Richard did not particularly care for the flat taste of distilled 
water, but he wasnt about to risk ingesting any of the local microorganisms by 
drinking the local product. From what he could see, Darthan was close enough to 
Earth and Altainenvironment that there might well be some degree of 
cross-susceptibility in their biospheres.
As he stood on this alien world and watched a star very much like the one under 
which he had been born, Drake felt a sense of belonging that was as out of place 
as it was real. No doubt, a Ryall standing on the sands of Paris Island in the 
Lesser Sea would have felt the same.
#
It was after dark when Tarsanau returned. The humans were seated around a 
cooking firefueledbyapressurizedgascontainer in front of their tents, just 
finishing dinners labeled Emergency Ration Alpha-Four, when the negotiator 
popped from the lagoon like a seal hopping onto a rock, and then moved toward 
the yellow firelight. Overhead, the larger moon was nearly full and sprayed its 
blue-white radiance over the island and the surrounding lagoon and city. The 
moon was bright enough to remind Drake oftheelectricglowofthe AntaresSupernovain 
those first days after thesupernovawavefront swept through the Val Systemonce 
the nova wave front had reached Valeria . They had called the phenomenon 
Antares dawnlight, and besides keeping the children from going to bed, the 
electric light that turned night into day.
 
Rivaling the radiance of the larger moon was the soft, bluish light that 
emanated from somewhere underwater, lighting up the lagoon and the citys canals 
as though they were giant glow-tubes. This blue-white radiance lit the city from 
beneath, while light in various colors cascaded down from globes attached high 
up the domelike buildings. The glows from the larger moon, the underwater 
lighting, and the globes combined to give the city a surreal aspect, like 
something one would see in a dream or in an artists fantasy painting.
As Tarsanau came into the warm light of the fire, all five humans rose from 
their campstools and faced him, anticipation evident in their faces.
Those Who Rule will meet with you in three days, he said without preamble.
Is there a problem? Bethany asked.
Tarsanau waited for the translation and then replied, We have a delegation of 
Two Legged Monsters camped in the center of our city. They are asking for an 
audience with Those Who Rule so that they can threaten to destroy every living 
male, female, and hatchling of The Race. Under the circumstances, there are many 
problems.
Richard wondered if he should cut off his wifes questions, then decided against 
it. Evidently, Tarsanaus meeting with the Ryall rulers had not gone smoothly. 
Better to find out all they couldabout where they stood with the ruling elite.
Is there something we can do to help with the problems?
There are clan leaders whowouldlikewish to see you before theformal meeting. 
Will that be acceptable?
Certainly, Bethany replied. What canouldyoucareto tell us about these clan 
leaders?
Tomorrow, the elderly Ryall replied. We will discuss these matters during 
your tour. The watercraft will be here There was an exchange of Ryall speech 
between Tarsanau and Varlan  two hours after sunrise. Is that acceptable?
More than acceptable.
Very well. I will leave you to go to my lodging for the night. If youwish 
something,haveneedofanything,merely signal the sentries. They will see that your 
needs are provided for, so long as they are within reason.
Farewell until the morning.
With that, he turned, scurried to the waters edge, and then disappeared into a 
pool of blue-white radiance.
Drake watched him go, and then turned to the others. Well, early to bed and 
early to rise appears to be the routine, people. Turn off the fire and into the 
tents. Try to get some sleep. Its going to be a busy day tomorrow.
#
Richard, are you awake?
Drake woke to the nudge in his ribs and the whispered question close by his ear. 
It took him a moment to remember where he was and to take in the familiar, soft 
touch of the warm feminine body beside him.
Whats the matter? Cant sleep? he asked his wife, keeping his own voice to a 
whisper. The two of them shared a sleeping bag in one of the shelters. Their 
only companion was Varlan, who lay sprawled atop another sleeping bag on the 
opposite side of the shelter. Phillip and the two scout boat pilots were 
sleeping in the second orange igloo.
Not very well, Bethany replied.
Whats wrong?
I dont know. ItstThe excitement, perhaps. Orthehardnessofthisfloor. Or maybe 
the strange night sounds.
Or the fear? he asked.
 
Intruth,DarthansgravitationalpullwastenpercentlessthanAltas,andtheyhadthreecentimetersofpaddingunderthem.
Or the fear, Bethany agreedwith a sigh, her hot breath wafting over his ear. 
Do you think they could have bugged us this afternoon?
Listening devices? SureCould be. It would have been easy enough for one of them 
to insert all sorts of things into the shelter floor while we wereallclustered 
around the fire. Then, of course, there are only about a thousand technologies 
for picking up our speech at a distance. Ill bet there are a dozen infrared 
laser beams focused on the shelter walls right now, picking up the vibrations.
How would they understand what they heard? she asked.
After a century of war,youcanbetthatatleast some of themmust understand 
Standard. Dont worry about it. Whats bothering you?
This cityis bothersingme. It is so beautiful with its canals and lagoons. Every 
time I close my eyes, I see it destroyed by our bombs. 
Ifpushcomestoshove,wiCouldllwe really destroy this planet and its billions of 
sapient creaturesif it came to that?
He paused long enough that she wondered if he had heard her. When he answered, 
there was pain in his quiet voice. I dont see any alternativeif they refuse to 
surrender. Our cities are equally beautiful and the Ryall would destroy themin a 
momentif they could.
 
Ifwecouldbesureofmaintainingtheblockadelongenoughtocausetheircollapse,thenwewouldnthavetodestroytheirhomeworlds. 
However,youknowaswellasIdothathumanbeingslackthepatienceforthatoption. 
Besides,thereisalwaysthechancethattheywouldbreaktheblockade,andthentheonlywaytodefeatthemwouldbeextermination.
 It just seems such a waste, she whispered. He thought he heard tears in her 
words and leaned in close to kiss each eye in turn. Sure enough, his lips 
encountered wetness.
That is why we cannot fail in our mission. If they will admit that they have 
lost this war, wewill have at least a generation to teach them the error of 
their instincts. At least we can teach them that attacking human beings is the 
fast way to Darwins scrap yard. Now go to sleep. Dawn cant be that far off.
She snuggled close to him, entwining her arms and legs with his. Ill try, 
Richard.
He held her until her breathing became regular and steady. Then as he closed his 
eyes, he began to notice the night sounds, which were different from those at 
home. Ten minutes later, Richard decided that he was wide-awake and would likely 
stay that way.
#
Chapter 30
A fleet of watercraft arrived after breakfast, just as Tarsanau had promised. 
The small fleet moved out of one of the nearby canals and headed across the 
lagoon toward theirisland. At their appearance, there was a sudden general 
motion from the sentries. The encircling perimeterofwarriors opened up and 
reformed into a horseshoe shape that allowed the humans access to the nearby 
beach.
Richard Drake studied the boats as they neared shore and was surprised at how 
conventional they looked. Their prows were pointed and their sterns squared-off. 
The helmsman sat in back with his right arm controlling a sticklike rudder 
control. Form follows function even in the Ryall Hegemony, he thought as he 
watched the small flotilla run their bows up on shore. There was a single large 
and five smaller boats. The former was covered with a flat deck that looked to 
be a quick addition to the design, giving the boat the appearance of one of the 
ancient aircraft carriers of Earth. Railings surrounded the deck and three 
uncomfortable looking tubular chairs designed for the human form dominated the 
deck.
Tarsanau lay on the front part of the flat deck with his forward legs shoved 
over the edge and both hands grasping the railing. Beside him was a second 
Ryall, who Richard recognized. The five humans and Varlan strolled down to the 
beach as the two Ryall clambered over the forward railing. As Richard had noted 
the previous day, they were better swimmers than climbers.
Periskay! Bethany shouted as the two Ryall clumsily dropped to the small beach 
at the edge of the island.
Bethany of the Drakes!
 I wasnt sure that we would be seeing you again.
I have been kept busy by Those Who Rule, the Ryall engineer-philosopher said.
Doing what?
I suspect telling them all about us, Richard replied. Correct, Periskay?
They are naturally curious about the beings who have dared enter our realm and 
dictate terms to us.
What did you tell them about us? Bethany asked.
I told them of my capture and detainment, and of how you found me on Corlis and 
brought me to Spica. I told them of how I learned the human speech from Varlan, 
and of your idea that our two species can live together in peace.
Did any of them accept? Bethany let her question die in her throat as she 
caught her husbands warning look about being too nosey regarding delicate 
subjects. She continued with, Sorry, just the old monkey-curiosity coming to 
the fore. I forgot where I was.
That required Varlan to explain about monkeys to Tarsanau, which consumed 
several minutes. When shehad finished, Varlan turned to Richard and said, I 
will not be accompanying you on your tour of the city today. I have been 
summoned to meet the elder of my own clan. He wishes to discuss the coming 
meeting with Those Who Rule and to welcome me home.
Then Periskay will be our guide?
I will be your translator, the philosopher replied. Tarsanau will guide. This 
is not myown city. I am as much a tourist here as you are.
Well then, lets get started. Drake replied. Everyone make sure you have your 
canteen and some energy bars. Otherwise its going to be a dry and hungry day. 
He turned to the scout boats pilot and said, Sorry you have the duty, Nina. If 
any Ryall want access to the boat, do not stand in their way. Remember, theyve 
got us outnumbered about a billion to one.
 Yes, sir, the statuesque Sandarian pilot said. Ill try to make sure that 
they dont blow themselves up. Otherwise, Ill be the perfect hostess.
Do that. Just keep an eye on them and let us know what interested them. If they 
havent planted listening devices yet, todayiswould be the perfect time to do 
so.
Jonas and I will keep alert, sir.
I know you will. We should be back before nightfall.
And if you are late? Nina Hensley asked. A slight tremor in her voice 
betrayedingthe fear that she and Lieutenant Bartle might find themselves alone 
on a hostile alien world.
Then well be late. There isnt much you can do about it, so dont fret.
Yes, sir.
With that, he turned to Tarsanau and said, Were ready.
They all climbed atop the large, flattop boat and took their places as the 
helmsman maneuvered it away from the shore. Drake sat in the foremost chair, 
with Bethany to his right and slightly behind, and Phillip in the same position 
to his left. Tarsanau and Periskay were perched on the decking in front of the 
humans, facing aft so that they could see the humans. Drake wondered if Ryall 
were subject to seasickness. He knew that he tended to become ill when forced to 
ride backward in a boat.
The small flotilla formed up in the middle of the lagoon. Surrounding their boat 
were the five smaller ones, each with a complement of three warriors from the 
perimeter guard in addition to its helmsman. The guard boats spread out, with 
three leading the fleet and two bringing up the rear. When everyone was seated 
and the guard boats in formation, Tarsanau signaled the helmsman. A deep 
vibration radiated from the hull as the boat picked up speed. The power source, 
whatever its nature, was utterly silent, leaving only the noise of gurgling 
water and waves pounding against the hull. As they angled toward a large canal 
on the far side of the lagoon, the boat climbed up out of the water and began to 
plane, sending white spray out to each side and leaving a deep, v-shaped wake in 
the clear water behind. Beneath the surface, the distorted shapes of individual 
Ryall swimmers could be seen to twist around to follow their progress. The guard 
boats maintained formation and were soon sending out white spray themselves. 
Soon, the only sound was the balmy wind whistling past their ears and the quiet 
hiss of the hull cutting water.
#
Twenty minutes later they were moving at high speed down a wide canal with round 
buildings crammed base-to-base on either side. On the banks of the canal, 
individual Ryall stopped to look at the two-legged beingsaboard the central 
boatbefore scurrying on their way. Suddenly, the canal ended and the small 
flotilla moved out onto a lake. The new body of water was wider than the lagoon 
and much longer, with treelike vegetation reaching down the slopes of low, 
rolling hills to the shore. At the other end of the lake was some sort of 
structure that showed as a black line, with periodic columns reaching toward the 
sky along its length. Thesmall flotilla increased its speed to 40 KPH or so and 
headed for the structure. After five minutes of leaping over the tops of light 
swells, Richard recognized the structure asbeing a dam.
Where are we going? Bethany shouted at Periskay, her words punctuated by the 
thud-thud-thud of their motion across the wave tops.
To the water control structure, the Ryall replied, moving his snout to point 
in the direction of the dam. His ears were plastered flat to his head and his 
words were barely understandable over the whistling wind that enveloped them 
all.
It took ten more minutes to reach the dam. When they were close enough, they 
could see the other side. Richard had expected to discover the river whose 
taming had formed the lake and a broad river valley beyond. Instead, beyond the 
dam lay a broad body of water that stretched out to the horizon.
The helmsman turned parallel to the structure and cut power, causing the boat to 
decelerate quickly as it sank once again into the water. The water on the other 
side of the dam was aquamarine rather than the clear blue of the water on this 
side, and it was a good two meters lower in elevation.
Tarsanau spoke rapidly in the Ryall tongue, and Periskay translated. Beyond you 
see the Eastern Sea. At this time, the water is low because of  I do not know 
the Standard word for the phenomenon. It has to do with the pull of the Greater 
Moon.
Tide, Bethany said. The raising and lowering of water due to the 
gravitational pull of the satellite. What Tarsanau is saying is that the tide is 
out.
Yes, the moon is in a position where the inner sea is lower than the city 
canals. These gates keep the water from running out too quickly. Later today, 
the inner sea will be higher than the water of the city. At that time, these 
gates will be raised to make sure that the water does not run in too quickly and 
cause a flood. If the water were allowed to rise and fall naturally, there would 
now be no water in the canals, and later today, your ship and tents would be 
drowned. So would many of the buildings of the city.
Is that why you build domes? Bethany asked. In case of tidal flooding, the 
entrances can be sealed and the contents kept dry inside?
If I understand your meaning, yes, that is the reason for the round shapes of 
the buildings. Not so much to keep our possessions dry. As amphibians, there are 
very few parts of our lives that are completely free of water. However, the 
floods, when they occur, bring dirt and other contaminants into our dwellings, 
and require a great deal of effort to clean. Other clans, of course, do not have 
the problem of tidal flooding, and therefore, they build their dwellings in 
different shapes that are better for their habitat, be it coastal marsh or dry 
land. Some clans even build up in the mountains where the rain sometimes turns 
white.
Ryall live in the snow?
If that is the name for it. Do not human beings live in all of the climates of 
your home world?
Yes, but
Then why would it be any different for us? Life expands to fill the available 
space, does it not?
Non-sentient life, certainly, Richard interjected, detecting a potential 
problem with the way the conversation was going. Sentient beings have a choice 
whether they will live somewhere or not.
Phillip had been following the interplay and decided that a change of subject 
was needed. You speak of other clans building other shapes. Does that mean 
this entire city belongs to a single clan?
This is a major center for trade on Darthan and many clans have interests here. 
However, of the citys inhabitants, eleven-twelfths belong to the Clan of the 
Windward Coast.
 They must be a power among your people to have built such a fine city, 
Bethany said.
They are the most powerful of all the clans. They have two individuals numbered 
among Those Who Rule.
Two? Is that unusual?
Very unusual for single clan. Their most exalted is Sandok. He is First Among 
Equals among Those Who Rule.
And the other representative?
Tarsanau, of course.
Bethany turned to the other Ryall, who had been observing the interchange of 
human speech without understanding. This is the city of your own clan, 
Tarsanau?
After Periskay translated, she received an answer in the affirmative.
Does your city have a name?
There was a quick Ryall conference, following which Periskay replied, The name 
in our speech cannot be translated well. It refers to the place where The Race 
first defeated the Swift Eaters. Tarsanau and I agree that you may call it, 
Capital.
The place from which this planet is ruled?
Oh, no, Periskay replied. Not just Darthan. This is the city of Those Who 
RuletheRaceThe Race . All of our worlds receiveinstructionsdirection from here.
Then Capital sounds like a good name for it, she replied.
As Drake listened to the interchange, he studied the water control dam. He was 
intriguedbythefact that all of the floodgates were retracted until their lips 
were a centimeter beneath the surface of the lake. All along the length of the 
dam, small waterfalls cascaded down two meters to the aquamarine sea below, 
ending in a froth of foam. Water was leaking from the citys canals and lagoons 
at a controlled rate. When the tides turned, they would reset the gates height 
to reverse the waterfalls. The daily flushing and refilling of the lakes and 
lagoons renewed the citys water supply, sweeping corruption and pollution out 
to sea and bringing in fresh water each day.
Somewhere he had once read that the city of Amsterdam, on the continent of 
Europe, on Earth, used much the same system to keep their canals free of 
pollution for century after century.
#
The tour continued. After the flood control dam, Tarsanau took them on an 
explorationtourof the waterways of Capital. Along one canal, they passed through 
a kilometer-long section where various species of climbing 
plantshadbeentrainedto groew up trellises and across bridges until they formed 
one long, green-walled tunnel. The foliage was so thick that the sun barely 
penetrated, and the cacophony of alien smells assaulted human noses meter by 
meter. Some of the smells were quite pleasant. Others were far less so, and at 
least two threatened to trigger bouts of nausea. There was also the constant 
buzz of small flying creatures, one of whichcausedastirwhenit attempted to nest 
in Bethanys hair. The local Ryall were treated to the sight of one of the 
two-legged monsters suddenly bolting out of her chair and then dancing around 
the flat deck while flailing at the strange moss-like structure that exuded from 
her cranium. Eventually, with the help of her husband, Bethany assured herself 
that whatever it had been had flown off, and she resumed her seat with wounded 
dignity while Tarsanau and Periskay stared at her with expressionless obsidian 
eyes.
The next thing they saw was an open-air market. Here individual Ryall on each 
side of the canal bargained with one another with the enthusiasm of sellers and 
buyers in an ancient Baghdad bazaar. The medium of exchange they were using was 
not obviousto the humans. One thing that was noticeable, however, was the 
studiousintensity with whichwayinwhich they ignored the boats. That they had 
forewarning of a visit by the two-legged monsters was obvious. How much of their 
other behavior was staged was difficult to decipher. The small flotilla motored 
around a corner and entered a side canal fronted by swampy parks among which 
there were several life size statues of various Ryall.
Who are these people? Richard asked, pointing to the statues.
He received a lengthy explanation that left him none the wiser. Perhaps Varlan 
could have gotten the meaning across, but the task was beyond Periskay. 
Twenty minutes after leaving the open-air market, Tarsanau signaled the helmsman 
to sidle up to a stone quay. As soon as the boat bumpedagainst the shoreinto the 
quay , the two Ryall guides and their three human guests stepped onto dry land. 
There was a rush on either side of the quay as warriors scrambled from their 
guard boats to take up position in front and behind them.
Tarsanau led them to a series of oversize domes and through a large entryway, 
stopping long enough to show them the giant watertight door that would swing 
into position to sealoff the entrance in the event of a flood. The domes 
interior was cavernous and decorated as a forestof strange plants. Lighting was 
primarily through a single opening at the apex, with a number of glow globes 
supplementing the illumination around the periphery. Except where natural 
sunlight intruded, the lighting was blue, as though the Ryall were simulating 
night. Scattered through the forest were various holographic scenes of Ryall 
engaged in activities ranging from fishing to weaving. Visible in the background 
of several scenes were houses constructed of reeds and built on stilts. The 
ambience of the building was unmistakable.
A museum? Bethany asked.
Yes, it is a place where we remember our past. If you wish to understand us 
as you claim, this is a good place toseebegin , Periskay said.
Where should we start? Phillip asked.
Follow me, Tarsanau answered, his short legs propelling him quickly across the 
main open space and down a side corridorthat connected this dome with the next 
along the canal. The three humans followed and Periskay brought up the rear. The 
warrior-guards contented themselves with forming a line across the entrance to 
make sure no one could enter or leave.
The corridor was actually a gallery with exhibits on either side. Bethany would 
like to have stopped, but Tarsanau led them forward without slowing. Many of the 
scenesheledthempast were underwater. At the end of the gallery, the ambience 
changed abruptly. Hidden holographic projectors filled the air with wisps of 
color and light, generating the illusion that they were looking through meters 
of water. What they were looking at dominated the center of another cavernous 
domed expanse. Hovering over them as they entered the open space was a creature 
that hung suspended in mid air, its flanks illuminated by clear white light.
The being was fishlike, with twin horizontal flukes at the end of a powerful 
tail. The body washydro-dynamically streamlined; with large fins set vertically 
midwayback along the body. The nose was sharp and streamlined, and flattened, 
with a pair of malevolent eyes balanced atop the snout on stalks. The nose, 
tail, and eyes were mere details, however,detailsthings to be noticedin 
passing.and then studied in more detail later.  For the thing that grabbed their 
attention, as the museums creators had intended, was the open mouth. The 
creature was posed with its back arched, its tail high in the air, and its mouth 
filled with razor sharp teeth reaching forward as though to snap up spectators 
as they entered the gallery.
 That is a Swift Eater? Richard asked as he gazed upward at the apparition. If 
this is what their hereditary enemies had looked like, no wonder that the Ryall 
were still frightened of them.
Yes, Periskay replied. These are the creatures The Race fought for so long. 
Many millions of our people disappeared down that gullet before we exterminated 
them.
Tarsanau spoke for a few seconds and Periskay continued. Do you understand now 
why we do not believe that our two species can live in peace?
It is completely understandable, Richard replied. If we humans had such 
creatures in our past, we would probably believe the same. However, 
webelievehaveaprinciplethattellsusthat it is dangerous to reason by analogy.
Periskay began to translate, then halted. I do not understand what you are 
saying.
We believe that nothing that happens in life is exactly the same as that which 
happened before. Two events may appear similar, but they are not the same. 
Therefore, one must be careful applying the lessons of the past. It is easy to 
be misled by unimportant similarities.
 And the point of this observation to our coming discussions?
Only that we are not the Swift Eaters. Lessons that led to your survival then, 
if improperly applied, may lead to your destruction now.
An interesting, if alien, thought, Tarsanau replied. I will have to consider 
its meaning. Would you like to see more of my species history?
Very much, so. Please, lead the way.
As Tarsanau led them out of the Gallery of the Swift Eaters, all threeofthe 
humans cast nervous glances over their shoulders. The eyes of the creature 
seemed to follow them as they walked.
#
 
Chapter 31
The tour returned to the island just before dark. By the end,DrakeRichard , 
Bethany, and Phillip had sunk into thoughtful silence. They had seen a great 
deal of the Ryall city of Capital, and their overall impression had been one of 
recognition. The arrangement of the buildings, the canals of clean water that 
were the citys streets, the open air markets and the arboretum, all of these 
could easily have been transplanted to almost any human worldwithout creating a 
stir. Even the museum had been familiar. Of all the ways there are to display a 
species past, apparently both human and Ryall had stumbled over the same 
template.
Form followed function in Ryall space as it did in human space.
For Richard Drake, that observationhad struck a chord, one that was more 
intuition than thought. A mood had been growing in him all afternoon, one that 
began during their tour of the flood control damthat separated Capital from the 
Inland Sea. By definition, an alien race ought to come up with alien solutions 
for their everyday problems. Yet, the city architect had not employed force 
fields to keep the Inner Sea at bay, nor a wall of living plants, nor even a 
bucket brigade of exotic beasts of burden. He had built a mundane, everyday, 
concrete dam to hold back the floods. There had been a few alien features to the 
structure, to be sure. Yet, the shapeofthedam was that of an arch, just as a 
human dam would be. It was not because that shape is artistically appealing, but 
rather, because it is the best shape to hold back the force of the water. The 
floodgates were sections of large cylinders pivoted on each end and anchored 
into vertical columns so that they could berotated to raisedand loweredthe level 
of the water.by rotating the gates.  The spillways had been barely visible 
underthe cascading torrentwater , yet they were there, lined with concrete to 
prevent erosionby the alternating waterfalls.. How was it, he wondered, that two 
species which built museums and dams so alike were such implacable enemies?
It would have been understandable if human and Ryall thought processes were so 
alien tooneanother that neither could make sense of their adversaries way of 
thinking. Implacable hostility made sense if two species came from environments 
so radically different that they had no common points of reference. Ryall and 
humans, having evolved on worlds that were near twins of one another, had more 
things in common than not.
The air of Darthan smelled as sweet as that of Alta, or Sandar, or especially, 
Earth. The sky was a different shade of blue than the sky of Drakes home, but 
it was still a shade ofblue and not green, or gray, or black. The gravity that 
pulled on his body was a little weaker than at home, and the star in the sky 
emitted its warming rays at a slightly different frequency and greater intensity 
than at home. Still, the gravity was not onerous, nor the rays harmful.
Darthan was so like Alta that, if he wished, he could strip off his clothes and 
dive naked into the lagoon without fear of being frozen, roasted, broiled, or 
vacuum dried. Save for the danger posed by microorganisms, there was nothing to 
stop him from cavorting with amphibian passers-by, or just floating with his 
body relaxed, with only his faceexposedabove water , luxuriating in the feel of 
warm water against bare skin. Each planet that puny humans could face without 
environment suits was a miracle in the universe, and to date, humans and Ryall 
had found dozens of such worlds.
Yet, despite their common heritage of sunny skies, and sea-covered worlds, the 
children of Earth and the children of Darthan strove mightily to kill one 
another. For despite evolutionary parallels without equal, they had developed 
along separate paths because of a single difference in environment. That had 
been the ravening appetite of a semi-sentient species of alien sharks; beasties 
that had gone extinct about the time human beings discovered agriculture. If the 
problem was that the Ryall saw human beings as Swift Eaters, then the solution 
must be to what? That quandary had plagued Drake all day, and he could not 
shake the feeling that the answer was swimming just beyond the range of his 
outstretched mental fingers.
#
Look, theres Varlan, Bethany said, interrupting Richards reverie. Shes 
back from wherever she went and Nina Hensley is with her.
The small fleet was once again in the central lagoon, moving slowly toward the 
beach from which they had embarked that morning. He glanced up and saw the scout 
boat pilot waving to them. It wasnt the open palm welcome home wave, but 
rather the reversed cupped-hand, hurry and come here wave.
What do you suppose she wants? Richard asked.
I dont know, his wife responded, but well soon find out.
A minute later, they were rewardebowdbythescrapeding sound of bow onsand as the 
boat shuddered to a halt. The three humans stood and helped the two Ryall over 
the railing and onto the beach before they too clambered over and jumped down 
onto the narrow strip of sand. Richard hit with flexed knees and then 
straightened up and strode toward Lieutenant Hensley. Bethany did the same, but 
walked toward Varlan
What is it, Nina? Drake asked. Did the Ryall give you any problems?
None, sir. The perimeter guard returned to their circle formation as soon as 
you were out of sight, and they didnt move until they went back into horseshoe 
formation just before you showed up again.
Then what has you so excited?
Varlan, sir. She showed up about an hour ago with three other Ryall. They are 
waiting in the shelter. Apparently, they are big brass, sir. They say they want 
to speak to you.
How big?
Planetary rulers if I understood Varlans introduction. Lieutenant Bartle is 
keeping an eye on them up at the shelter while Varlan and I came down to the 
beach to meet you.
Well, we cant keep the local lords of creation waiting. Lead on.
With that, the small party of four humans and three Ryall made their way to the 
nearest orange igloo. As they approached, Drake moved to stride beside his wife.
Who are they? he asked.
Varlan has brought the head of her clan with her. He wants to talk to us about 
our demands in advance of the formal meeting. There are two other members of the 
ruling body. One of them is Sandok. Varlan says that he is incommunicado, so 
dont make a big deal over him.
Drake laughed. You mean all of that practice at genuflecting is going to go to 
waste?
Her response was an elbow in his ribs. He was still rubbing them when they 
reached the shelter.
Inside Vincente Bartle was standing apart from three Ryall, who were idly 
examining the interior of the shelter. They stopped and turned back toward the 
open airlock as Richard and Bethany entered. Varlan, who had been fourth in 
line, moved to the fore and began the introductions.
Admiral Richard Drake, Commander of the Human Fleet at Spica, may I introduce 
Valascar of the Clan of the Scented Waters, and in human terms, my cousin.
Valascar of the Scented Waters, a pleasure to meet you, Drake replied.
There followed an exchange of Ryall speech, after which Varlan said, Valascar 
is pleased to meet the Admiral of the Drakes. May I also introduce Sandok, a 
member of the clan of this city, and Pasadon, of the Larger Continent, who 
represents another faction among Those Who Rule.
Greetings, Sandok and Pasadon, Drake replied.
There followed more interchanges of Ryall and human speech as the other members 
of the human ground party were introduced to the Ryall leaders. Eventually, 
everyone took a seat, the humans on their campstools, the Ryall crouching in a 
semicircle, with Varlan and Periskay on each end to translate. Five humans and 
six Ryall made the environmental enclosure crowded.
Welcome to our camp, Drake began. Would you like some food? We have rations 
suitable for those of The Race.
Valascar answered. We did not come here to eat. Before we begin, you should 
know that this, our daughter  he gestured toward Varlan,  has convinced me 
to honor the clan oath which Tarsanau has granted you. You are under the 
protection of both his clan and mine while you are here.
I thank you for I know what a great honor that is, and how difficult it is to 
extend a clan oath to ones enemies. We hope to repay the honor by demonstrating 
we are your neighbors, and not your enemies.
The obligation was ours, Valascar replied. You have treated our daughter well 
during her captivity and to refuse the request would have been the same as 
banishing her from the clan. However, I do not like that you have filled her 
mind with alien nonsense.
Whether it is nonsense remains to be seen. Besides, Varlan came by her ideas of 
her own will. As we have studied her to understand the ways of The Race, she has 
studied us. I believe she has come to understand what it is that motivates human 
beings. I would urge you to listen to her counsel in this matter.
We would prefer to hear your words directly.
Very well. Let us speak of the reason we have come to Darthan, Drake replied. 
Taking a deep breath, a human habit the significance of which he hoped the Ryall 
would not recognize, he continued: We have come to demand your surrender.
There was a long pause, after which Sandok responded, It is our observation 
that humans are bold in battle. Your request validates that observation. Tell me 
why we should place the future of our species in alien hands.
Your future is already in our hands. It has been sincethemoment we captured the 
System of the Twin Suns. With our blockade in place, your economy will soon 
collapse, and with it will go your ability to defend the stargates. Your 
defenses will grow weaker each day, and someday soon, you will weaken to the 
point where we will breach your defenses and send a fleet to destroy this 
planet.
Our defenses remain strong. You should have noted that during our last attack.
We did. Those warriors maneuvered their ships with great skill. They died 
bravely, and as a result, they are no longer available to you. The more ships 
and warriors you send against us, the more quickly you hasten your own 
collapse.
 Yet you fear us enough to demand peace, Sandok said.
We respect you, and yes, to tell the truth, we also fear you. Your ships have 
brought death to a great many of our young men and women. Most families in human 
space have lost someone. However, fear of your warriors is not what motivates 
ushere. No, we have come to ask for your surrender because of something we fear 
more than you, our enemies.
What do you fear more than the warriors of The Race?
We fear ourselves.
There was a burst of Ryall speech and Varlan translated, We do not understand. 
You appear to be speaking in riddles.
 It would be better if my wife explained, he said, turning to Bethany. Tell 
them why you decided to come on this mission, especially the part about how we 
humans lack patience.
She looked confused for a second, and then brightened, as she understood what he 
was asking.
Three Ryall headsswiveled at the end of long necks, to fix her with one steady, 
black ocular. What my husband is saying is thatwe are here thismeetingislargely 
due to me. Through my studies of Varlan, I became convinced that The Race is 
more than the sum of its genetic coding. However, at the same time, I began to 
wonder if we humans could make the same claim. Let me explain 
Bethany recounted her long studies with Varlan and her many failures to make her 
captive (and friend) understand the human idea that sentient species need not be 
enemies. Yet,nNo matter how she came at the problem, Varlans xenophobia 
thwarted her. Then Bethany recounted the breakthrough. Varlans refusal to 
breed, Bethany pointed out,had been the first instance where she could identify 
behavior from Varlan that was unambiguously at odds with her natural instincts.
The third Ryall, Pasadon, said, Her instincts were correct. It would have been 
to her disadvantage to allow hatchlings to become your prisoners.
No, Pasadon, I disagree. Herinstinct was to breed. Her intelligence told her it 
was wrong to do so. She followed her intelligence, not her instinct.
You see a difference in meaning where none exists.
We would say that I was arguing over semantics. I do not believe that is the 
case, however. It is very important that we distinguish between what Varlan 
wanted and what she decided.
 That seems an obvious statement to us, Valascar replied.
Perhaps so, Bethany responded. It did not seem obvious to us. Nor would I 
have considered it sufficient to talk my husband into launching this peace 
mission had something else not happened at the same time. To understand what I 
am about to tell you, I must first explain the human institution of the 
cocktail party
Bethany went on to explain how Those Who Rule among humans had an instinct to 
gather at the end of the day, imbibe alcohol, and socialize with one another. It 
took quite a while to make them understand that these gatherings were where much 
of the real business of government was conducted. Finally, when the Ryall seemed 
to haveaa rudimentary understandingn inkling of the concept , she told them of 
the gathering at Evelyn Mortridges house.
She then recounted, nearly verbatim, the conversation of the members of 
parliament who had grown impatient with the war and the mounting casualties, and 
how they had slipped effortlessly into talk of exterminating the Ryall.
 Their callousness frightened me, she concluded. And so I gathered up Varlan, 
picked up Periskay en route, and went in search of my husband to convince him to 
come here to Darthan to plead with you.
I am afraid that we do not understand the allegory you have just told us, 
Valascar replied, moving his head so that he could stare at Bethany with the 
opposite eye. It was a Ryall gesture akin to a human speaking of the other 
hand.
.
Bethany opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again when Richard signaled 
her to silence. He turned to the Ryall and said, Our originalwasplan had been 
to blockade the System of the Twin Stars until your economy collapsed, and then 
to take control of your worlds.  We thought that we would then be able to train 
you in our ways and transform you so that you would no longer threaten us. It 
has been our experience that enemies can be made into friends, and even better, 
trading partners. So, in our ignorance, we set out to tame you.
We are not easily tamed.
We can be persuasive, especially when our war fleet controls your skies. 
However, Bethany found the flaw in our plan. We overlooked the fact that we 
humans are also limited by our genetics. Your species is aggressive to all 
competitors. Our species lacks patience, a trait we inherit from our 
non-sentient ancestors. The truth is that we lack the patience to take the 
casualties required to bring about the collapse of your civilization. Long 
beforetheshortagescausedby our blockadewill destroysyour economy, we willtire of 
our losseslose patience andwillattemptto take more direct action against you. 
When that time comes, as it soon must, then we will forget about making you our 
friends, and switch to a strategy ofserial extermination.
Then you see this as a battle to the death, as do we, Valascar observed. 
Humans, it would seem, are more like The Race than youwouldclaim.
He nodded. We are both warrior species and if this war continues much longer, 
we may not be able to help ourselves just as you could not help killing a Swift 
Eater if one were to appear in your seas. However, we, too, can control our 
instinctsto an extent, just as you can. It is not yet too late. If you surrender 
now, before we run out of patience, then neither of our species need die. Who 
knows, over time we just might become friends. The choice is yours. Quit now, 
and your worlds will live; fight on, and you will most certainly die.
#
It was a confused group of Ryall who departed the island two hours after sunset. 
Afterward, the five humans and Varlan sat around a gas-fed fire, ate a hearty 
supper, and admired the greater moon, which seemed less full this night than the 
previous one. The lesser moonswinsparksoflightthatwerethelessermoonsskimmed 
across the sky,as did other points of light representing various orbital 
installations.
andotherartificialsparksledthemintheirrace.
Did you understand what I was getting at? Bethany asked Varlan.
I followed your logic, Bethany. So did Those Who Rule. You shocked them.
Shocked them? How?
By displaying how truly alien are the workings of your mind.
How so?
You told us that you had no desire to exterminate us, but because of a weakness 
in yourselvescharacter, you wouldillinevitably exterminate us anyway.
Thats right.
If you had told us that your ships will rain down radioactive fire because we 
represent a threat to your species, then we would have understood, and even 
accepted that you think that way. However, to tell us that you 
willdestroyrainradioactivefiredownon us because you cannot restrain yourselves 
is truly alien.
 But its the way we think. Its logical.
Is it?
Of course it is. Richard, you agree, dont you?
Huh? he asked.
Werent you listening to me?
Beg you pardon, my love. I was looking into the fire. What was your question?
Varlan thinks Im crazy. You dont, do you?
He smiled. Sorry, Ill need more information to answer the question Suddenly, 
the ache in his ribs was joined by a sudden pain in his left shoulder as her 
fist landed.
Ouch, you shouldnt beat your husband in front of company.
Say something like that again and Ill hit you again, she replied, laughing. 
Where was your mind just now?
Oh, I was thinking about the big audience day after tomorrow. I was wondering 
what other arguments we can use to convince them to surrender.
Any ideas?
One only, he said.
Well, what is it?
First thing Ill need is a holo projector. Think we can tear the one out of the 
landing boat and rig it with a portable power supply?
Im sure the expertise exists among our little band, she replied. What do you 
need it for?
Maybe I dont. Still, it might come in handy if we can just find a picture in 
the computers database.
What sort of picture?
A terrestrial shark. A big one
#
Chapter 32
 
The Ryall left them alone the next day, which everyone appreciated, as they 
needed the time to get ready for their audience with Those Who Rule. Richard, 
Bethany, and Phillip spent most of the morning in conference, fleshing out 
Richards strategy for catching the attention of the Ryall leaders and holding 
it long enough to get their point across. Whether they would be successful in 
convincing the assembled worthies that their species fate depended on their 
decision was anyones guess. Drake suspected that not even the Ryall could 
predict what they would do. Come sundown tomorrow, no one would be able to say 
that they had not tried.
Phillip and the two scout boat pilots spent the afternoon disconnecting the 
boats holo projectorthat was used for displaying star maps. A few adjustments 
and the projectors viewing sphere was expanded to nearly two metersacross, and 
to everyones surprise, the database contained pictures of sharks, quite a lot 
of them.
Richard and Bethany spent the afternoon rehearsing their presentations. They 
decided that Bethany would explain the situation to the assembled leaders and 
that Richard would thendrivepound the point home. Their presentation would be a 
variation of thetried-and-true good cop, bad cop routine; except it might be 
better called bad cop, worse cop, the way they were going to play it. The 
64-billion-credit question, of course, was whetherthe Ryallleaders would react 
to the pressure reactedtopressurethe same way humans did. Bethany thought so, 
but she could not be sure  not based on studies of a single member of the 
species.
What do you think, darling?sheBethany asked toward the end of their rehearsal.
About what, my dear?he asked, preoccupied with making notes to himself.
If we were in their position and they presented us with the same ultimatum, 
what would we do?
He looked upfrom his notes and, not for the first time this trip, saw his wife 
anew. Shewas perchedwasseated on her campstoolnext to him, her lithe body clad 
in shorts and halter-top as defense against the heat. Even so, a thin layerineof 
perspirationglistenedhad formed  on her forehead, her upper lip, and most 
deliciously, in the valley between her breasts. Her earnest expression belied 
the casual look of her clothing and the windblown tangle of auburn hair.
What would we do? I suppose that we would just go right on fighting until they 
overwhelmed us. Im afraid we humans arent very logical about this sort of 
thing.
So what if the Ryall are as stubborn as we are?
He shrugged. Then we will have done our best. If they surrender, fine. If they 
dont, then our consciences are clear.
Is that why we are risking our lives, Richard, so that we can destroy this 
beautiful city with a clear conscience?
The pain in her voice drove him to lean forward and brush away a tear. Its not 
the only reason, but its one of them. We are not responsible for the phobia 
they picked up in their prehistory. We are only responsible for what we can do 
to assist them in overcoming theirhandicap. If they choose not to accept our 
help, then the consequences are on their heads.
What a cruel thought, Bethany repliedsadly..
Realistic, he concluded. Now, my dear, instead of fretting about the far 
future, lets just concentrate on the small slice of it that will take place 
tomorrow. Lets go over the points you will be making one more time
#
The rain began just before dawn, a cold, drizzle that belied the tropical 
paradise they had made of Capital in their minds. Bethany woke, still entwined 
with Richard, to the steady hammering of droplets against the shelter roof and 
sidewalls. It took her a moment to realize what was making the sound. When 
reality came flooding back to her, she rolled over and groaned.
Whats the matter? Richard asked, his voice still muzzy. He had lain awake 
until well past midnight, unable to sleep because his mind refused to shut down, 
and as a result, his body clung to slumber more than usual this morning.
Its raining, she said, exasperation evident in her voice.
Well, on a planet with this much water, you know it has to rain sometime.
But why today?
Maybe our hosts scheduled it that way.
They lay in their sleeping bag until gray light became perceptible beyond the 
shelter windows. Another problem with their sleeping was that Darthans rotation 
period was only about twenty-two-and-a-half hours, which disrupted the human 
bodys circadian rhythm. As soon as it became apparent that the sun had 
definitely arrived above a thick layer of clouds, first Bethany and then Richard 
crawled out of their sleeping bag.
Half an hour later, both were dressed and feeling a little better after gulping 
down two steaming cups ofjazzra juice. Both would have preferred real 
terrestrial coffee, butQueen Julia was a Sandarian ship, and so were her landing 
boats.
Phillip would accompany them to the audience, while they once again left Nina 
Hensley and Vincente Bartle to watch the ship. Richard made sure that Phillip 
was up.
After a breakfast prepared in the shelter, one in which Varlan quietly slipped 
away to eatherownrations far from the human cooking odors, Bethany slipped into 
a hooded raincoat and went in search of her Ryall friend. She found Varlan 
sprawled on a patch of what passed for grass on Darthan, luxuriating in the 
rain. Her scales glistened from the wetnessand her ears were spread wideas she 
stretched full-length along the ground. At Bethanys approach, she lifted her 
head.
There you are! Dont tell me that you like this rain?
If feels wonderful on my body, Varlan replied. I have never understood you 
humans aversion to one of lifes simple pleasures, especially when you insist 
on immersing yourself in water every night before going to sleep.
Showers are hot. Rainstorms are cold. Thats the difference.
And I was under the impression that humans were warm blooded, the Ryall 
chided.
Only to a limited extent, Bethany replied. She fell silent for a long minute, 
causing Varlan to regard her with the near eye.
Is there something wrong?
No, I was just thinking. We dont have much longer together, you and I.
That is true, her friend replied matter-of-factly. After the meeting with 
Those Who Rule, you will be going back to the stargate and I will be staying 
here.
Regardless of the outcome?
You have the oath of my clan to protect you, Bethany, once of the Lindquists, 
now of the Drakes. Valascar has promised me that he will see you safely out of 
this system whatever Those Who Rule decide. Coupled with the assurances of 
Tarsanaus clan, that should be sufficient.
Ill miss you, you strange-thinking lizard.
And I will miss your monkey optimism. You have taught me many things. However 
long my life from this moment, I will think always of your teachings and how 
they might be applied to the benefit of my own species.
Bethany blinked tears away. Come, breakfast is over and theyve ventilated the 
shelter. Its safe to come back inside, and we need to get ready for the boats.
#
An hour later, the same flotilla that had taken them on their tour of the city 
arrived at the beach, presaged again by the perimeter guard formation opening 
into a horseshoe down to the beach. . The big flattop boat grounded as it had 
two days earlier, but this time there was an improvement. No sooner had it 
touched shore than a long ramp telescopedout from under the deck and Tarsanau 
flowed down it on all six legs as though he had been doing it all his life.
I see youve improved our transportation, Drake said as he climbed the ramp. 
Even slick from the rain, there was no tendency to slip.
The better to maintain my own dignity, Tarsanau replied through Varlan.
When the three humanshadtakentheirplacesand secured their equipmentand took 
their places, Varlan and Tarsanau crouched beside them. The helmsmen stowed the 
rampby activating some control, then applied power to pull the boat away from 
the beach.
Richard watched the twoscoutboat pilots wave at them before turning back to the 
shelters. Their orders were to get everything but essential items packed up, 
stowed, and ready for a quick departure. This, he reminded them, would be one 
performance where the theatrical troupe might well need to beat a hasty retreat 
to escape the angry mob of theatergoers.
The boat transported them down the nearby canal, but in the opposite direction. 
They glided between warehouse-size domes painted white and smaller domes painted 
brown and yellow. As they rode in silence, the wind-driven rain began to 
slacken, allowing them to open their rain hoods and take more interest in their 
surroundings.
The canal left the crowded cityscape behind and passed beneath a pedestrian 
bridge into a large open park. The green space held winding slideways  
sidewalks whose surfaces were maintained in a perpetual state of wetness to 
allow the Ryall to slitheride alongon their bellies while propelling themselves 
with their after pair of legs. There were large growths of the rush-like plants 
the Ryall scattered across the floor of their resting chambers, along with 
tree-like plants that drooped like terrestrial weeping willows or Altan vine 
trees.
The canal bent left through the park and after passing beneath another 
pedestrian bridge, straightened to point toward the largest building they had 
yet seen in the city. On the opposite edge of the 
parkfromwheretheyhadenteredlaywasseveralaclusterof domes. These werepainted in 
patterns of light and dark blue. The central dome was enormous, dwarfing the 
sixsmaller domesaroundthatsurrounded it.
Do you think that is where we are going? Bethany asked Richardwhen the complex 
came into view.
He nodded. Its either the government center or a cathedral of some kind.
The buildings grew larger as they approached asection of the canalquabanky into 
which stone rampshadbeencut. Theramps led down into the water for the 
convenience of submerged swimmers. There was also an sectionwharea where boats 
could tie up to disgorge passengers. 
Astheyapproachedthequay,theiraccompanyingguardboatsscatteredwhiletheirhelmsmanangledhisboattowardthedock. 
As they had at the museum, the moment the boat nudged into the quay, Ryall and 
humans disembarked and stood for a moment until Tarsanau signaled them to 
followhim.
They moved off down a gravel-covered pathway that paralleled one of the 
slideways. It had the appearance of being new. It led them to,andheadedforan 
openingin a nearby domebetween two of the domes. Passing through the door, they 
found themselves in a short hallway lit only by the gray sunlight behind them. 
As they walked, it became dimmer in the hallway until they could barely make out 
their surroundings. Then Tarsanau turned a corner and they emerged into a 
brightly lit open space that, judging by its enormous size, must be the interior 
of the central dome.
The closest human analogtowhatlaybeforethem was one of the colossal sports 
stadiums modeled on the Roman Coliseumand domed over to allow the crowd to enjoy 
their favorite barbaric sport in shirtsleeve comfort. Circling a shallow pit 
were shelf after shelf of resting areas where thousands of Ryall, all crouched 
on all six with their forelimbs hanging over the edge, could observe the 
proceedings at the center of the hall. Bethany counted 23 levels of these 
shelves, each with an intricate system of ramps to facilitate the flow of 
spectators. Banks of glow tubes mounted high up the dome illuminated the viewing 
shelves. The tubes also illuminated the central pit and the artwork that 
decorated the single, circular wall.
The humans attention was drawn toscannedthe artwork, which consisted of 
larger-than-life pictures of Ryall triumphs. Some of these were underwater 
scenes depicting Ryall hunters skewering Swift Eaters on the sharp points of 
their spears. Yet, there were other scenes, many of which held no significance 
for the humans. The scenes appeared to be in chronological order moving 
clockwise around the stadium arena parliament church? On their right, the 
scenes transformed from planetary views to scenes in space. The last few were of 
ships in battle, Ryall craft that slashed and thrust at other spaceships, these 
indistinct, somehow misshaped. If the ships were impossible to identify, there 
was no doubt about the bodies floating out of the rip in the side of one enemy 
craft. They were vaguely star-shapedbipeds, with four long points flung wide and 
a smaller point emanating from their spherical helmets and reflective 
faceplates.
The vast spectator shelves were largely empty, save for the two or three lowest 
levels. Here, small clumps of spectators had gathered close to the pit and 
lounged patiently as they waited for the action to begin.
Tarsanau led them to a footbridge that arced over the spectators and delivered 
them directly to the floor of the pit. There were lounging shelves here, as 
well. These, too, were arrayed in a circle that faced thecenterofthe pit, and 
unlike the shelves above, these were filled nearly to capacity. Here lay Those 
Who Rule, the powers-that-be in the Ryall Hegemony.
Inside the ring of ledges on the pit floor was a raised dais and an empty space 
where a table and three human-style chairs had been set up. Tarsanau ushered 
them to the table. Richard, who had been carrying the holo-projector, set it 
down and then took the chair to the right. Bethany took the one in the center, 
and Phillip sat down on herleft.right.
Richard glanced around at the surrounding Ryall faces. Most had their heads 
turned right or left so that they could stare at him with one eye or the other. 
He glanced at the nearest Ryall. They were of several different body types and 
mixed sexes. Some in the spectator gallery were young enough that they had not 
yet grown their adult scales. Others in the pit showed the discoloration of 
extreme age. All had their ear spikes raised and their tympanic membranes 
stretched taut to catch every sound.
Like most domestructures, the building possessed exceptional acoustics. Finding 
himself awash in the chirping-hissing Ryall tongue, Drake let his eyes sweep the 
gallery until he discovered a group of spectators seated at least fifty meters 
distant whose body movements seemed to match the cadence of the sounds. When he 
casually said Hello, the entire group fell silent and turned their heads in 
his direction.
There was a general movement of Ryall around the pit until a nearly hypersonic 
whistle pierced the cavernous space. Drake turned to see a Ryall had mounted the 
speaking platform at the center of the pit. After a moment, he realized that it 
was Sandok. In the time it had taken to turn his head, all noise had ceased. It 
was quiet enough that he imagined he could hear the individual molecules 
colliding with his eardrums.
Sandok began to speak.
Whatever he said took more than ten minutes. Early in the oration, Drake looked 
at Varlan, who said, Sandok is greeting Those Who Rule and expressing his 
appreciation that they are attending this full meeting of  you would call it a 
council. Shall I translate?
Not if he is just going through the formalities. Please translate when he gets 
to something important.
A few minutes later, Varlan said, He is now explaining how your fleet invaded 
and captured the System of the Twin Suns. He is telling them how you, Richard of 
the Drakes, vanquished our ships in the system even though they fought 
valiantly, and how your alien hosts now sit astride our stargates, and how our 
great civilization has been sundered by your fleetthat we have not been able to 
dislodge. He is explaining in great detail how Richard of the Drakes is a 
warrior without equal among the humans, and that you have honored them by coming 
here in person to speak to them.
Now, Bethany, he is describing you as mate to Richard, and a great philosopher 
in your own right. He tells how you saved me from the slave camps after your 
people captured me, and gave me a home where I might learn your ways. He is 
quite complimentary in his description
Phillip, he describes you as the future Leader of Those Who Rule among your 
people. He tells how it was your world that first took the brunt of our attacks. 
He tellsthemthat,andhowyou were able to repel our forces even while you 
evacuated your home worldto escapebecauseoftheexplosionof the new Evil Star in 
human space. He says it with high poetry and an eloquence that will not 
translate.
Now, Bethany, he is telling them that you would speak to them of 
thecurrentstateofthe Great Hunt. He reminds them that you are of an alien 
species and that some of your ideas will be alien as well. He asks them to 
listen carefully and to consider well what you have to say, for the fate of the 
hatchlings will hang on the decisions made here today.
He is now introducing you, Bethany, formerly of the Lindquists, and now of the 
Drakes. It is your turn to speak.
Bethany pushed back her chair and began to stand, when Richard leaned over and 
planted a kiss on her cheek. Dont let them intimidate you. Remember, were 
here to save their sorry asses, not vice versa.
Ill remember, Richard. Just remember your own lines when the time comes, she 
whispered.
With that, she strode to the speakers platform and ascended the stepsthat 
placed there for human benefit. At the table, Richard warmed up the 
holo-projector.
A performance worthy of the Bard of Avon himself was about to begin.
#
Chapter 33
Bethany stood and gazed at the audience that surrounded her. Except for their 
alien form, they might well have been a group of medical students watching an 
operation, or law students waiting to be enlightened as to the principles of 
civilization. Beside her stood Varlan, waiting to translate. There was a long 
pause in which Richard wondered if she had frozen from stage fright. Then her 
voice rang out in a loud, clear contralto.
Members of the clans of The Race, thank you for coming here today to listen to 
what I have to say. As Sandok of the Windward Coast has told you, I am an alien 
and much of what I say will seem alien to you. I urge you to listen even though 
you may find my words at first difficult to reconcile, for I assure you that 
whatI say is important for the future of both of our species.
Bethany paused to allow Varlan to translate, giving her time to consider her 
next statement. There were advantages to speaking in translation, she decided. 
It gave one time to think.
My name is Bethany Drake. I am an historian by profession. That means that I 
evaluate modern events and try to find a time in human history whenmy peoplewe 
faced a similar situation. I then evaluate how our ancestors handled the problem 
and advise our own version of Those Who Rule how they may proceed.
(Pause)
In a way, my husband and I are unique among human beings. We come from a colony 
world whose access to the stars wasseveredcut off when Antares, which you call 
the Evil Star, exploded in human space. Forsix human generations125 human years 
, we had no knowledge of the existence of The Race, nor of the war you were 
fighting with humanity. Only after the nova wave front passed our star were we 
able to regain our stargate and to go in search of our fellow humans.
(Pause)
What we found was a world made sterile by the radiation of the supernova. This 
we had expected, for no world could have survived being as close to Antares as 
New Providence was. What surprised us was the discovery that many of New 
Providences cities were destroyed by war before the nova sterilized the planet. 
Much confused, we went on to our sister colony of Sandar, and there we were told 
of the aliens who had burst upon New Providence and had done great damage before 
being beaten back.
(Pause)
That, members of The Race, was my first introduction to you. I was told that 
you were a pack of cowards, evil monsters who attacked our people while we were 
trying to evacuate a doomed world. I was toldthat there was no reasoning with 
you, that the only possible outcome was your total destruction, or ours. We were 
shown prisoners, members of the warrior caste, who indeed seemed to be fearsome 
fighters. Then, while we were on Sandar, your ships savagely attacked that 
system. The Sandarians enlisted us in the defense and we threw back your ships, 
butat great cost.
 (Long pause)
While Varlan translated, Bethany reached for the canteen at her belt and took a 
long drink of water. Orating, shehad discovered, left ones mouth dry. When 
Varlan signaled that she could continue, she replaced the canteen and then 
slowly swiveled to face each member of her audience in turn.
We then discovered that the path to humanitys home world was blocked by your 
ships, and that even though we were once more free to leave our own system,that 
we were still trapped in a region of space with no exit. Having no other way to 
reach Earth, we searched for stargates inside the Evil Star. We armored our 
ships and shielded them against radiation, and took a fleet into the heart of 
the nebula. After much work, we found a stargate, and sent ships through to 
investigate. That is how we first discovered the Eulysta System.
 (Pause)
To our surprise, the Eulysta System was inhabited and we captured the miners we 
found there, including Varlan. Not wishing our raidtobe reported back to Those 
Who Rule, wespentmucheffort hidingtheevidence of our presence in the system, and 
then returned with our prisoners to the Antares nebula. During our absence, our 
scientists had plotted another stargate and this one led to a system in human 
space, andwe eventually, toreachedEarth.
This time when she paused for translation, Bethany looked down at Richard and 
mouthed ready? Henodded.
repliedwithagestureconsistingofthumbandforefingerpressedtogethertoformacircle.
Varlan was the first member of The Race that I ever met and she made me 
curious. Were you really as my people said you were? How did you think? What was 
it that motivated you?
Therefore, I decided to study Varlan as I had long studied history. What I 
discovered was that you are not the monsters our peoplebelievesay you are. Nor 
is your outlook so alien that we humans cannotneverunderstand you. In fact, your 
thought processes and our own parallel one another, with a single difference. 
Your evolution included the Swift Eaters and they left a mark in your very 
heredity.
She nodded to Richard, who turned on the holo projector. A brilliant blue globe 
materialized above the table. In it was a long, streamlined shape, with a 
vertical fin at the back, a dorsal fin in the middle, and a gaping mouth filled 
with razor-sharp teeth at the front. Atop the flattened head lay two beady eyes 
that gazed up at the spectators. It bore a striking resemblance to what they had 
seen in the museum.
This is my species equivalent of a Swift Eater. We call it a Great White 
Shark. In size, it is longer than a Swift, and I believe that itisat least as 
fast. It is less intelligent than they were, but it is the same sort of eating 
machine. That is all it does. It swims in the oceans of the human home world, 
and it eats
(Pause)
While Varlan spoke, Bethany watched the audience. Most of them had transferred 
their attention to the hologram. She wondered if the flattening of ears was an 
indication that the shark provoked the same visceral reaction as a Swift. She 
hoped so. In fact, she was counting on it.
There are two differences between the Great White Shark and the Swift Eater. 
The first is that my species does not fear the shark. We do not have to. We are 
land animals, and as such, do not share its habitat. Save for the occasional 
unlucky swimmer, the shark is no danger to us. Furthermore, because we are only 
occasionally its prey, the shark never evolved a taste for human flesh. When 
sharks attack humans, it is most often a case of mistaken identity. Thus, we 
never evolved an aversion to sharks the way The Race evolved an aversion to 
Swift Eaters.
(Pause)
Our lack of fear of the shark brings us to the second difference between them 
and Swift Eaters. Sharks inhabit the oceans of Earth to this very day. Even 
after we humans developed the capability to exterminate them, we did not. That 
is because they are no danger to us and they do some good in keeping other 
species in check.
So you see, exalted members of The Race, our two species encountered nearly the 
same creature in our past. Because you shared your environment with the Swifts, 
and over the eons, had become part of their food chain, you exterminated them 
because they were an ongoing danger to you. Whereas we of Earth, because sharks 
posed no danger to our species, let them live and they swim our oceans even 
now.
(Pause)
Both of our species have developed instincts that are completely rational when 
you consider our histories. Yet, we arealso both intelligent, another aspect of 
our evolution. In fact, our two intelligences are the result of similar 
histories. My species developed intelligence because the predators on our home 
world drove us out of the trees. Your species developed intelligence because the 
Swift Eaters drove you from the sea to the land.
(Pause)
Which brings us to the most important difference betweenusour two species . 
This war we are fighting is fueled by your instinct to destroy all potential 
competitors. Although my species lacks a similar instinct, we have a very 
strongdrive forinstinct of self-preservation. We fight because we have been 
attacked. Just as you had no choice when you found yourselves the victims of the 
Swift Eaters, we have no choice in resisting your attempts to kill us.
(Pause)
When the translation was complete, Bethany glared at the assembled 
representatives of the Ryall clans, and said, In other words, exalted members 
of The Race, from the human point of view,you are the Swift Eaters! You are the 
mindless killing machines who are after us, and so long as you maintain this 
attitude, we have no choice but to destroy you.
#
Had the crowd been human, Bethany would have expected angry mutters, jeers, 
perhaps a few overripegange globes thrown from the audience. She had just called 
them the worst thing she could think of, yet they sat there quietly with their 
snouts turned to one side, and their ear spikes lifted high over their heads, 
the translucent flap of skin between each spike pulled tautfor maximum sound 
reception. Here and there, a tri-forked tongue appeared from within their 
mouths, to disappear as quickly.
Without another word, she walked to the edge of the dais and climbed down, 
passing Richard on the way. Theyre all yours, Tiger. I hope I stirred them up 
for you, she whispered as they passed.
Me, too, darling. Good job.
Drake ascended the dais and took his place beside Varlan. He stood for a moment 
and slowly pivoted until he had made eye contact with the entire encircling 
audience.
Those Who Rule and Others. My name is Admiral Richard Drake, and I am the human 
who has defeated you in this war. I command the fleet that occupies the System 
of the Twin Suns. I have the power to deny your ships access to that system, and 
in a short time, I will have the power to rainradioactive fire down on this city 
and this world. Therefore, I call on you to listen to me and to heed my words.
As my wife has told you, we have no instinct to exterminate you. Let me repeat 
that. Human beings have no instinct to exterminate The Race. We lack it because, 
unlike you, we have never had another species seriously challenge us for 
dominance of our home planet. We did not engage in The Long Hunt for generation 
after generation, until the instinct to hunt was part of our very chromosomes. 
We fight because we were attacked, and will continue to fight so long as you are 
a danger to us.
This war between The Race and humanity has at its root two competing visions. 
You believe that to preserve your species, you must destroy us, else we will 
grow strong in the future and overwhelm you. This is the lesson you learned from 
the Swift Eaters. You see us as a new type of ravenous beast that will 
eventually devour you if you do not stop us. We, on the other hand, see you as a 
new breed of shark. You are dangerous, but you are not our hereditary enemy. You 
are merely the latest in a long series of survival problems to be overcome. We 
fight now because you threaten us. Yet, if we can ever figure out how to ensure 
our safety, we will be happy to let you live and swim freely in your native 
ocean, which we hardly ever visit.
For much of this war, it did not appear that there was any possible outcome 
other than the one that you were seeking  namely the extermination 
ofoneortheotherone of our two species. For a long time it appeared that you 
would win and we humans would be the ones driven to destruction. With our 
capture of the System of the Twin Suns, however, it now seems more likely that 
you will lose the battle. With our capture of your most important star system, 
we have struck you a mighty blow. Having done so, we have a short period in 
which we canalso change the outcome of this war. There is a solution that will 
leave both of our species intact, safe, and free to pursue our own interests. It 
is a solution, however, that requires both of us to rely on our intelligence and 
not our instincts. So, let me address your fears directly.
You are worried that one day human beings will invade your home systems and 
displace you. This is false thinking. It is true that our two species inhabit 
worlds that are near twins. My companions and I have commented many times on how 
beautiful Darthan is to human eyes. However, in acknowledging your worlds 
beauty, we do not desire to make it our own.
 The truth is that we will shortly be in position to command this world and 
many others.  Yet, command does not equal possession. To take this world from 
you, we would have to bombard it into radioactive dust. In the process, we would 
render it useless for our own needs. Nor is Darthan a special case. It is a 
truism that an intelligent, hostile population can always deny a planets 
resources to an invader. We have proven this many times in wars between humans. 
Knowing this, and having discovered that worlds like Darthan are common in the 
universe, we see no need to go to the trouble of displacing the intelligent 
species from any planet. We prefer exploration to conquest to obtain new real 
estate.
 So how do we bring about anendoutcome to this war that allows both humankind 
and The Race to survive and prosperfar into the future? What is needed is a 
simple act on your part, but also one of the hardest acts those in this building 
will ever be called upon to perform. For we ask that you ignore your instincts, 
and use your intelligence to view the situation objectively. Rather than wait 
for us to smash our way into this systemand rain nuclear fire down on this 
lovely world, we ask that you surrender your forces now and let us through the 
stargate without a fight.
#
Varlan finished her translation and for the first time, one of Those Who Rule 
stood up from his crouching position. You speak with great confidence of the 
future, Two-Legged Monster.
I am a professional warrior and one who understands the logistics of war. We 
have captured the central system of your stargate network. If we can hold it, 
yourcivilizationsociety will collapse. It is inevitable, as I am sure your own 
warriors and economic philosophers have told you.
You speak of surrender. What are the practical consequences if we heed your 
words, Monster?
 Once you surrender, we will send ships through to your side of the stargates 
and set up fortifications there. We will oversee the destruction of your 
military fleets. Whether you choose to melt them down to recycle them into your 
economy or merely fly them into your systems star, we do not care. Once you 
lack the means to attack us, we will reopen commerce through the System of the 
Twin Suns. Your ships will be inspected leaving this system and upon arrival at 
their destination. So long as they are not carrying anything of military value, 
then they willnot be molested.
 be allowed to travel where they will.
Eventually, we will send some of our ships to your home world with our goods 
and we will allow some of your ships to travel to human space with things you 
have produced. Over time, we will build trade between our realms. As we become 
more dependent on each others goods, we will become less fearful of one 
another. We may even become friends. Even if we do not, eventually, neither of 
our species will be able to remember what the argument was about.
And that is the reason you have come here?
It is. As I have told you, we have no inherent desire to destroy you. So long 
as we occupy the System of the Twin Suns, you have only two choices: surrender 
or die. Since we hope to one day add The Race to our list of trading partners, 
we would consider your destruction a waste of valuable resources. However, 
whether you take our offeror notis your decision. If you reject it, we will 
return to the ways of war and The Race will be one with the Swift Eaters  
merely a tale that human mothers tell their hatchlings to frighten them into 
proper behavior.
With that, Drake strode down the too-steep steps of the dais, gathered Bethany 
and Phillip to his side, and then strode back the way they had entered. As they 
crossed the pedestrian bridge that lofted them over the resting shelves, a 
hundred necks turned to follow their progress.
Well, Bethany whispered, how do you think we did?
I dont know, he replied with a sharp exhalation of breath. Theyll probably 
be arguing for days. All we can do now is go back to the shelter and wait.
#
Chapter 34
Richard, wake up.
Drake became slowly aware of fingers on his face as he opened his eyes to 
darkness. The fingers were not human.
Richard, wake up.
Im awake, he whispered. Varlan?
Yes.
Whats up?
You need to wake up. It is time to leave.
He sat upright in bed and waved the light on. They had been delivered back to 
the camp on the island just before sundown, and after a quick meal of emergency 
rations,they had gone to bed, tired from the tension of the day. He glanced at 
the chronometer and saw that it was near local midnight. Leave? Have they made 
their decision already? Do we need to go back to the meeting hall?
They have made their decision. It is time for you to leave this world and this 
system.
Are you saying the decision went against us?
I cannot say more. Those Who Rule have decided and it is very important that 
you leave this world immediately! Get up. Tarsanau has arranged for your boat to 
rejoin your ship and forFar Seeker to accompany you back to the stargate. We 
must hurry. There are many among Those Who Rule who would withdraw the oath of 
clan honor that protects you here.
Richard, whats the matter? Bethany asked, having been awakened from a sound 
sleep by their talking.
Varlan quickly told her that it was time to go and thatQueen Julia would be 
escorted back to the stargate. Go? Are they kicking us out?
As I have explained to Richard, you are still under protection. Tarsanau 
insisted that clan honor not be breached, and Valascar supported him. However, 
there are limits to our protection and those limits include timeas well as 
distance. That is why you must hurry.
Are you coming with us?
I will accompany you to the stargate. That is for your safety and to translate 
if need be. At the gate, I will transfer toFar Seeker and return here.
And you cant tell us what the decision was?
Not if you wish to leave this planet, she replied.
All right. That seems clear enough. Bethany, go roust the others. How long have 
we to get airborne, Varlan?
Your clearance is good for she did a quick calculation and then said, forty 
minutes from now. You must be on your way to orbit by then.
Right, then theres no time to waste. Lets move.
Half an hour later, the scout boats underjets came alive, tearing at the two 
orange igloos still anchored to their island home. The boat lifted into the 
dark, and soon left the lights of Capital beneath a thick layer of cloud. As 
they broke through the clouds, they found themselves climbing directly into the 
bright rays of the Greater Moon. Strapped into their acceleration couches and 
cargo netting were five humans and one Ryall, with only the clothes on their 
back and the instruments with which they had recorded their visit to the enemy 
home world.
As they climbed, five brains mulled over a single question: What had gone wrong?
#
To everyones reliefQueen Juliaswelled in the viewports right on schedule. 
waswaitingforthemattheendoftheirdepartureorbit.  The three passengers floated on 
the starboard side of the cabin and stared out at the lovely sightgrowing larger 
by the second. Then there were a series of quick hissing sounds as the landing 
boat made its way toward the cruisers open hangar bay, followed by gentle 
accelerations as they were winched aboard.
Phillip was the first through the airlock into his command. He was met by his 
executive officer. After a cursory look around, he asked, Where are all of your 
guardians?
They left, Captain.
Left?
About an hour ago a Ryall boat came aboard and they all piled into it. That was 
when we heard that you were returning to the ship. What happened down there?
Im not sure, but I think we got them stirred up. All the Ryall are gone?
Every one, sir. Cant say I am sad to see them go. Once the translators left, 
there wasnt much to talk about, and what there was, we had to use sign 
language.
If you couldnt talk, how did you know we were coming back?
We received a message in Standard on the comm circuit we had been told to 
monitor.
Voice or data?
Data. It told us that you were headed back to the ship and gave us clearance 
for a departure orbit and orbital parameters.
How long until our time slot?
About twenty minutes, sir.
Phillip whistled. They arent dawdling, are they?
No, sir. Whats up?
Apparently the powers-that-be reacted strongly to our suggestion that they 
surrender. Everyone aboard okay?
No problems. If they didnt like what you told them, why are they letting us 
leave?
A good question, Lieutenant. I wish I knew. Perhaps they are going to wait 
until we get clear of all of this expensive orbital hardware theyve set up so 
that they can missile us without worrying about collateral damage.
Sorry I asked.
#
Back in Combat Central, Richard and BethanyDrake were having essentially the 
same conversation. Their hurried departurefromtheplanet had left them feeling 
disoriented. In the buildup to their audience, they had considered any number of 
Ryall responses to their ultimatum. Perhaps their hosts would tell them that 
they were not interested in the ravings of a couple of lunatic bipeds and then 
send them on their way. Or maybe they would have them killed, or locked away in 
the Ryall equivalent of a zoo. Then again, there was the very remote possibility 
that they might actually have surrendered.
What they had not expected was to be rousted out of bed in the middle of the 
night and kicked off the planet with no explanation at all.
As they strapped into couches in preparation for leaving orbit, Bethany turned 
to Varlan and asked, Do you know what decision Those Who Rule came to?
I do.
Can you tell us?
No. It would be a violation of my oath to my clan.
If we knew what they had decided, we might be able to argue them to a different 
decision.
No argument is possible.
Cant you give us a hint?
No. All I can do is ensure that you return home before those who would deny you 
protection have their way with Those Who Rule. If that happens before we reach 
theStarGatestargate , you will be trapped here. I can say no more.
Youve said enough, Richard replied. He keyed his console for the bridge.
Walkirk here, Admiral, came Phillips reply.
How long until we leave orbit, Captain?
Ten minutes, sir.
Same sort of orbit as we had on arrival?
Pretty much. It is calculated to keep us from ramming the localorbitalspace 
junk, Im sure. We2will link up withFar Seeker once we clear the planet and line 
up on the stargate.
Whats the acceleration rate theyve figured? Drake asked.
Lets see, sir. I havent checked that part of the flight plan yet Phillip 
whistled. They have us headed back at two gravities, sir. They must want us out 
of here in a hurry.
How long to the stargate at two gravs, Phillip?
I make it sixty hours, sir.
Good. The longer we are in Ryall space, the more danger that they will change 
their minds and keep us here. Well follow the flight plan as written.
Aye aye, Admiral. Power in eight minutes and 20 seconds. Better get yourself 
secure back there.
Well be ready.
#
Two-and-a-half days later, Richard Drake felt as if he had been on a ten-day 
bender. His eyes burned, his mouth tasted like the inside of an old shoe, and 
every muscle in his body ached to be in some position other than what it was.
I must be getting old,he thought. Sixty hours at two gees is a picnic 
compared to that acceleration run we made to catchConqueror I.
 Acceleration will cease in ten minutes. Make sure that you are strapped down 
and prepared formicro gravityzero gee . I repeat, acceleration will come to an 
end in ten minutes.
The announcement echoed through the ship and brought sighs of relief in every 
compartment. Not only would the end of acceleration mean a respite from their 
toils, it signaled that they would soon be through the foldpoint and out of 
Ryall space.
Drake, Phillip, and the members ofQueen Julia s sensor crew had not been idle 
on the long climb back to the foldpoint. While their few active sensors remained 
de-energized, they made full use of their passive sensors, especially the ships 
telescopes.
The Darthan system was awash in sights of interest to humans. Within six hours 
of their departure from the planet, they spotted a distant drive flare light off 
against the blackness of space. Within seconds, dozens, and then hundreds joined 
that first flare.
Drakes initial reaction was that the flares were from warships coming in 
pursuit ofQueen Julia . He immediately put that thought out of mind. For one 
thing, there were enough Ryall ships around the foldpoint to stop a battle fleet 
from jumping to Spica, let alone one unarmed embassy craft. For another, there 
were far too many of them to be anything other than the mobilization of an 
entire fleet and three hundred warcraft after one unarmed light cruiser was 
overkill in anyones book.
What do you think? Drake had asked the ships command staff via comm circuit. 
In addition to gleaning much needed intelligence about the enemy, work on the 
drive flare sightings took everyones minds off the drag of too much 
acceleration.
 We dont know what to think, Admiral. They appear to be assembling for another 
try at breaking the blockade, but if so, why would they allow us to watch them 
get ready?
A good question, he agreed. Anyone have any answers?
Answers, it turned out, had been in short supply that day and remained so.
Thirty seconds to zero gee. All hands, secure for microgravity. Grab hold and 
hang on. Ten seconds. Five  four  three  two  one  engines off!
As it had numerous times in his career in space, Drakes stomach did a quick 
flip-flop, and then stabilized as he floated upward into his restraining straps. 
As soon as he stabilized, he began clawing at the releases. When he was free, he 
glanced at Bethany, who was fighting her way out of her restraints as 
enthusiastically as he had. Varlan, between them, was unhooking much more 
slowly. She, too, had suffered from the high acceleration.
Richard keyed his comm screen for the bridge. A gaunt Phillip Walkirk answered.
Captain Walkirk, you look like hell! I thought future kings were supposed to 
keep themselves presentable at all times.
May I suggest that the admiral look in the mirror before he comment on others?
No need, Drake replied. I feel asworn outbadas I look. Too bad there is no 
time to go lie down in a nice micro gravity bunk for a few hours. How long to 
the foldpoint?
Well cross the boundary in twenty minutes. So far no one seems to object to 
our going home, but Im keeping my fingers crossed.
What about that Ryall cruiser?
Phillip looked away from the pickup, then back. Far Seekeris moving to a 
position close aboard. Their hangar hatch just opened and I would say that they 
are about to launch a boat. Better get Varlan down to the bay.
#
Ten minutes later, a somber party gathered in the compartment overlooking the 
hangar deck. Once again, a Ryall landing craft was slowly making its way to 
touch down between Queen Julias own boats. Richard, Bethany, and Varlan all 
watched the maneuver through the bay windows.
Im going too miss you, Bethany told her alien friend.
Varlan turned her head such that her right eye stared directly into Bethanys 
eyes.
I will miss you also. As I told you before, you have taught me many new and 
wondrous things. I hope that I can make better sense of them as I study them in 
the future.
And you still cant tell us what Those Who Rule decided? Drake asked.
No, Richard. To do so would break an oath to my species and my clan. All will 
become clear in time.
Good clear or bad clear?
That depends on your point of view, does it not?
He nodded. Suitably ambiguous answer. Well, I will stop pestering you. I will 
miss you as well.
Thank you, Richard.
Bethany moved to hug Varlan, which considering the difference in their 
physiques, was not easy to do. Richard noticed that Varlan hugged her back. 
Learned response or true emotion? It was impossible to say what thoughts were 
going on behind those obsidian eyes.
Their farewell was interrupted by the sound of air flooding into the hangar bay. 
Bethany helped Varlan to the airlock door and waited for the overhead light to 
switch from amber to green.
One last question, she asked her friend.
What is it?
Did you personally believe what we were telling Those Who Rule, namely that we 
would like to be your friends, if only you would stop trying to kill us?
I believe, Bethany. Perhaps some of them did as well.
With that, Varlan turned to enter the lock as it cycledautomatically open, and 
pulled herselfhandoverhand to the waiting landing boat. Fifteen minutes later, 
both Richard and BethanyDrakewere back in Combat Central and strapped down.
We just crossed the foldpoint boundary, the astrogator on the bridge reported. 
We can jump at any time.
Very well, Phillips voice said over the command circuit. Charge the 
generators. His voice continued over a different circuit, one that connected 
the captain with the commanding admiral. Were ready to go, sir. We jump on 
your command.
Very well, Captain. You may jump when ready.
I did just have a negative thought though.
What?
We will be jumping premature. Ourdailysafe window wont open for another five 
hours and 12 minutes.
Well just have to risk it. If we dont run into a mine on breakout, presumably 
the fleet will have enough sense to deactivate them before one can home on us.
I feel safer with the Ryall than trusting to the good sense of someone in fleet 
command.
Life is a compromise, Captain. Jump when ready.
Aye, sir. Starting the jump countdown now.
The ships speakers came alive and said, Foldspace transition in thirty 
seconds twenty ten five four three two one. Transition!
#
 
 Chapter 35
Admiral Sergei Gower sat in his cabin, finished off his second piece of buttered 
toast for breakfast, and took one final sip of tea while he read the fleet 
morning report. The fleets current condition was good; too good in the opinion 
of its commanding admiraler.
Beneath two pages of boilerplate verbiage that said were one hundred percent 
ready foranythingbattle  came a listing of every ship in the fleet. Beside the 
vessels names was each captains estimate of his ships combat readiness. The 
report made for boring reading. TSNSAtalan100%, RSNSArabesque 
100%,ASNSBeauregard 100%. Scanning down the column of green, glowing numbers, 
he occasionally found a vessel in the high nineties, but these were exceptions 
to the rule. Virtually every ship and fortress under his command reported itself 
in tiptop shape, with nary a computer glitch or missile malfunction to mar their 
numbers. Even those undergoing routine maintenance were doing so only on backup 
systems, with their primary systems on hot standby, fully ready for battle at an 
instants notice.
In Sergei Gowers opinion, one could never be fully ready for battle.
The problem was that it had been more than two weeks sinceQueen Julia had 
disappeared through the foldpoint on that damn-fool peace mission and the 
Spica-Darthan foldpoint had been as quiet as a tomb since. That was more than he 
could say about some of the other foldpoints in the cluster. A week earlier, a 
moderate-size Ryall force had attempted to break out of the Spica-Haeselyn 
foldpoint. The human blockade had held, but the fleet commander had screamed for 
reinforcements to replace his casualties as soon as the shooting stopped. Gower 
spent a hard morning combing his fleet lists to find a dozen replacements. All 
had come fromother foldpointsother than the one leading to Darthan, or from 
reinforcements that continued to pour into the system from human space.
 NonehadcomefromtheDarthanblockade.
No,iIn his opinion, whatever the Ryall were planning, their main blow would 
likely come from Darthan. At least, he was betting that way. Which was why the 
absolute calm in the Spica-Darthan foldpoint over the last two weeks had begun 
to wear on his nerves. He was like a poker player who had signed over the 
mortgage on his house to cover another players raise, sweating blood to see if 
he was about to lose everything.
He grumpily approved the morning report and made a mental note to see what he 
could do to get his forces 110-percent battle ready. He did not have time to 
complete the thought as alarms began to ring throughout his flagship.
What is it, Rossforth? he snapped at the duty officer as soon that worthys 
features appeared on his work screen.
A single ship has appeared in the foldpoint, Admiral. Were trying to get an 
identification now. There was a seconds pause when Commander Rossforth 
continued excitedly. ItsQueen Julia , Admiral. Shes returned from Darthan.
Any problems.
A mine seems to have locked onto them and is preparing to attack.
Well stop the damned thing!
We have, sir. All the mines in that section have been de-energized.
Have them take the quickest possible course out of the foldpoint. We dont want 
to take any chances on our simple-minded automatons getting them.
Yes, sir. The order is going out now. The Crown Prince is in command and 
reports that everyone is safe onboard.
Gower glanced at the overhead and gave a small prayer of thankfulness.
Sir, Admiral Drake requests a personal conference. He says that it is urgent.
VectorQueen Julia around the fleet and then here to the flagship. Tell him that 
I look forward to his report.
 Aye aye, sir.
#
Richard Drake was the first to enterSandarianblastshipRoyal Avenger , followed 
by Bethany and then Phillip. As the three of them exited the airlock at the far 
end of the embarkation tube, a full company of Sandarian Marines snapped to 
attention and a band struck upGod Save the King . The three paused for the 
playing of the anthem, and then pulled themselves hand over hand to where Sergei 
Gower waited. A broad smile split the craggy features of the gruff old admiral.
Welcome home, Admiral Drake, Gower said, snapping him a salute.
Glad to be home, Sergei, he replied, mirroring the salute.
 
Hiseffortswerenotascrisp,however,mostlybecauseGowerwasanchoredtothedeckwhileDrakefloatedfreeandcounteredthetorquecreatedbythequickarmmovementwiththehandthatgrippedthesafetyline.
Gower greeted Bethany next. My lady, it is good to see you again. I see you are 
missing your pets.
Good to see you, Admiral. Yes, Varlan and Periskay stayed behind this trip.
Richard and Bethany moved out of the way for the arrival both knew Gower was 
really glad to see.
Your Highness, welcome back!
Its good to be back, sir, Phillip said. This time it was Phillip who saluted 
first, but Gowers response was no less enthusiastic than had been his salute to 
Drake.
With the formalities complete, Gower said, I understand you are in a hurry to 
give me your report, sir. Shall we adjourn to my conference room?
That will be fine, Sergei. Weve a lot to tell you.
Five minutes later, the four of them had transitioned to the spin-gravity 
section of the big blastship and were striding along one of the axial corridors. 
Gower ushered them through an airtight hatch flanked by two Sandarian Marines. 
Five minutes later, each of them was seated around a large briefing table 
anchored in front of atwo-meter-diameter viewport. Beyond the port, the universe 
performed agiant pirouette every minute or so.
Gower activated the tables built-in recording gear and in a clear voice, 
announced the date and time and then turned to Drake, If you please, sir, you 
may begin your report.
Richard began to speak. He began with their arrival in the Darthan system and 
their rendezvous with the Ryall blastship, and then went on to describe their 
visit to Darthan itself. He turned the narration over to Phillip and Bethany 
from time to time, and then spoke of their meeting with Those Who Rule. Finally, 
he told Gower of the hurried departure in the middle of the night and of the 
high speed run back to the foldpoint, while all around them, the drive flares 
from Ryall ships came alive and seemed to be chasing them.
The debriefing took more than an hour. Gower did not speak the whole time, 
preferring to listen and not upset the trios chain of narration. Only at the 
end, when Drake mentioned the drive flares, did he ask a question.
How many flares in all, sir?
Phillip, what was the total your sensor team picked up?
 We did a quick count while you were getting Varlan off the ship, sir. We 
counted 312 drive flares spread all over the ecliptic. From Doppler 
measurements, they all looked to be converging on the foldpoint.
What do you conclude from the fact they let you see that, Admiral? Gower 
asked.
Richard rubbed three-day-old stubble and said, Either the whole thing is a ruse 
to disguise the fact that they are consolidating forces somewhere other than 
Darthan; or else we really pissed them off, and this is their way of telling us 
what we can do with our ultimatum. I think we had better play safe and assume 
they will hit us here with everything theyve got.
When?
It will take another two to three days for those ships we monitored to actually 
make the foldpoint, Drake mused. After some thought, he said, I would say a 
week at the outside. How ready are we to repel such an attack?
Better than before you left, Admiral. Weve had two orbital fortresses join us 
in the last two weeks, both transferred from the Earth foldpoint defenses.
Richard whistled, remembering the behemoth fortresses they had encountered when 
they finally entered the Solar System.
And what if it was a ruse? Phillip wondered. What if all of those drive 
flares were freighters pretending to be warships, and their fleet is massing 
against one of our other foldpoints?
Then we may have a problem, Your Highness. I have been operating under the 
assumption that the blow will fall here.
And if it falls somewhere else?
Gower shrugged. We have six other possibilities. Shall I get out my dice? We 
cant be strong everywhere.
Well, there is one way to discover if they were spoofing us, Drake said
What is that?
If a week goes by and theres no attack here, we may need to contemplate other 
deployments. Any indication of the Ryall forces opposite the other foldpoints?
Only negative data, Gower responded. No matter how cleverly we try to get a 
look at the other side, our instrumented probes never come back to us. They are 
being destroyed as they materialize at the other end of the foldline.
Well, all we can do is be prepared to repel them everywhere. That is the end of 
our initial report. Get that off to Grand Admiral Belton, and we will work at 
getting a full report as quickly as we can. At the least, we have a lot of 
recordings of the enemy homeland.
Excellent, sir. When shall I arrange the Change of Command ceremony to 
relinquish the fleet back to you?
Drake shook his head. The situation is too critical to disrupt the fleet just 
now. Ill serve under you until such time as weare past whatever pending crisis 
the Ryall are planning for us.
 Yes, sir. Where would you like to serve?
 I assumeConqueror II has been sent back to Corlis to be patched together?
No, sir. We repaired her here. The patches arent pretty and shes missing some 
weapons mounts, but she can still fight and I have assigned her to Sector Six of 
the blockade.
Very well. I will transfer to my old ship. I hope Captain Carter wont mind 
having me underfoot again. I will split my time between helping Bethany with the 
report and getting myself up to speed on fleet operations. If the Ryall havent 
done something in two weeks, well have that Change of Command ceremony.
Very good, sir.
What about my ship, sir? Phillip asked.
Queen Julia? With her offensive weapons stripped out of her, Your Highness, 
about all she is suited for is courier duty.
We can get her offensive armament put back in faster than you can blink.
That will be difficult. Most everything you stripped out has already gone into 
repairing other ships of the fleet. Much of your equipment was used to 
putConqueror II back into fighting trim. Im afraid there is very little left 
for you to replace.
Courier duty, sir?
Dont care for that, Your Highness?
Not when we face a major Ryall attack.
Gower frowned. I suppose I could find something for you aboardRoyal Avenger . 
It would mean temporarily giving up command of your ship.
So long as it is temporary, sir.
Youve done well enough that perhaps we can get you a larger ship.
I accept, sir.
Very well. Admiral Drake, you will want transport for yourself and your wife 
toConqueror II .
Yes, thank you, Sergei.
Gower switched off the recording equipment and opened up small black box to 
retrieve the record cube. He handed it to Richard. Heres your copy, sir. Ill 
get the original to our strategists and on the way back to human space as 
quickly as possible.
They all rose from their chairs. Gower beamed. It is truly good to see the 
three of you home. When you disappeared through that foldpoint, I frankly didnt 
think I would be seeing you again
We had our own doubts a time or two, Admiral, Bethany replied.
Gower nodded, his features pensive.  I am happy to see you back, My Lady, but 
I would be happier if I understood why they let you go. It just doesnt make 
sense.
#
As Sergei Gower had said,Conqueror II had been patched together and assigned to 
the Spica-Darthan blockade, a less lofty position than Flagship of the Combined 
Fleet, but honorable employment. After nearly a week aboard, Richard was still 
getting used to the contrasts.
Much of the ship looked as new as the day she had come out of Altas Orbital 
Shipyard Number Two. Yet, it was possible to step through a pressure-tight 
bulkhead to discover oneself in a fire-blackened hell. His old quarters, along 
with the Fleet Operations Center, were burned out hulks of their former 
glitteringgloryselves . Captain Pelham found them another cabin and a small 
cubicle to use in preparing the formal report on their adventures on Darthan.
Withprofuseapologies,PelhamCarterhadtransferredBethanyandhimtoaregularcabinandgiventhemasmallcubicleinwhichtowork. 
Thecaptainpointedoutthatwiththereductioninlivingcubicduetobattledamage,combinedwiththeextrahandsthathadcomeonboardtomakeupforthelossofautomatedsystems,itwasallhecouldspare. 
ThetwoDrakeshadacceptedwithenthusiasm,pointingoutthatitwasadistinctimprovementoverasleepingbagandatent.
For the next seven days, Bethany spent every waking hour puttingherevery 
impressionsof their triptoDarthan intotheafinal reportforto fleet intelligence 
and the psychologists back home. In fact, the demand for theirreport was so 
great that she was working on the fourth edition of what was quickly becoming 
aliterary monsterdocumentasterpiece. It might not have made the bestseller lists 
back in Homeport, but she could rightly claim to be the author of the most read 
work in the Spica System.
Once having gotten most of what she wanted to say down in glowing phosphors, she 
began cataloging the recordings they had made. Richards harness camera, in 
particular,had retrieved some spectacular views of the council chamber and Those 
Who Ruled. If that were not enough, shehadss tarted a monologue on the 
interlocking rights and obligations of the Ryall clan system.
Thats an awful lot of words to hang on the impressions from a three day tour, 
dont you think? Richard asked from their bunk one night as he watched her 
compose at the drop-down desk in their compartment.
Shehad turned to him and smiled, You military men just dont understand the 
scholarly mind.
For his part, Richardhad contributed as much as he could to the final report, 
including a long section on the meaning of the confusing events of that last 
night on Darthan. His conclusion: It did not make a damned lick of sense for the 
Ryall to throw them off the planet in the middle of the night.
 Now if they had marched us into the Council Chamber, told us to go to hell, 
and then thrown us in the deepest dungeon on Darthan, that would have made 
sense, he muttered after reading his own conclusion for the tenth time. Despite 
his misgivings, hehad transmitted the report the next morning.
In between helping prepare the report, hehad spent the rest of his time cramming 
to get his old job back. He did this by poring over communications logs and 
reading the deadly dull prose of status reports. It was surprising how much 
could happen in a fleet the size of Task Force Spica inthe short time they had 
been goneonly two weeks .
The previous week, the Ryall had tried to force the Spica-Haeselyn foldpoint, 
but the attack was beaten back with minor losses among the defenders. The other 
foldpoints remained quiet, which led him to wonder what the Ryall were waiting 
for. Each day that went by without action saw the blockade fleet 
strengthenedwithby reinforcementsfrom human space. That fact was as obvious to 
Those Who Rule as it was to him, so why hadnt they attacked?
His worries about when and where the Ryall would attack were resolved on the 
seventh day following their returnfrom Darthan. He and Bethany were having 
breakfast in their compartment when the shriek of the battle stations alarm 
echoed throughout the ship. Simultaneously, their cabin intercom began buzzing.
Speak! he ordered the young officer on the other end of the circuit as soon as 
he stabbed the accept key.
Sir, youd better get up here. The foldpoint just exploded!
#
Chapter 36
Dasanu ofStar Hunter reviled the two-legged monsters with a hatred that was deep 
and unreasoning. The very idea of sharing the universe with them filled him 
withalow-grade rage. On those occasions when hewashad been in the presence of 
biped prisoners, he hadto suppressedthe desire to reach out, place their 
ridiculously designed necks between his jaws, and clamp down hard until their 
red circulatory fluid stopped jetting from torn arteries.
Moreover, he had a better reason to hate humans than mostRyall. For Dasanu was 
First Commander of the Warriors oftheRaceThe Race . It was his task to drive the 
two-legged monsters back into their lair, and then destroy the lair. Through a 
dozen generations of hatchlings, his predecessors had driven the bipeds from 
four of their own star systems. Ever since taking command, he had continued the 
attack. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but each time, the enemy was weaker 
and less able to swim against the torrent of his wrath.
eizetheinitiative.
All thathad changed abruptly with the first reports of biped starships pouring 
through the Carratyl stargate into the System of the Twin Stars. Those reports, 
which he had initially disbelieved,had forced Dasanu to give up all thought of 
taking the fight to the bipeds. They, instead, had brought the fight to The 
Race. Between two flicks of a nictating membrane, the very nature of the hunthad 
changed. The hunters had suddenly become the prey.
Of necessity, his first efforts to dislodge the invaderswerehad been hasty, ad 
hoc attacks mounted by ships that happened to be nearby. In those early days of 
the invasion, speedwashad been paramount. Hehad hoped to drive the invaders away 
from the Darthan stargate before they fully took possession of the space around 
it. Had he been able to do so, he could have outflanked the various blockading 
forcesone at a timein detail . First he would have driven them from the Twin 
Suns, then from Carratyl, and finally, from Eulysta. He would have driven them 
back through whatever damned hole they had used to sneakthroughintothehegemony 
in the first place, and then use that hole as yet another portaltothroughwhichto 
attack their home worlds.
The warriors whohad mounted that first, hasty attack had shown the courage of 
their ancestors. Theyhad hurled themselves bravely at the surrounding enemy 
without hesitation, and when the battle was over, fully eleven-twelfths of those 
who bravely swam through the stargatehad failed to return home.
Having lost the opportunity for a quick victory, Dasanu limited his operations 
to probing attacks long enough to strengthen his own defenses, lest the 
bipedsatbe temptedto strike one or more of the home stars. He had also moved 
aggressively to reestablish communications with theother systemsthat had been 
cut off from Darthanof the hegemony. It had been frustrating to wait for the 
courier boats,deniedtheshortcutthroughtheSystemoftheTwinSuns,to navigate the 
long series of stargates between the suddenly far-flung systems. Despite 
sluggish communications, he had finally arranged a second attack. This onewashad 
been scrupulously prepared and launched simultaneously against four blockaded 
stargates.
Initial reportswerehad been encouraging. Despite murderous fighting, a number of 
shipshad brokenfree of the biped blockade. In accordance with orders, eachsuch 
shipthatmadeitsafelyoutofthestargateshad accelerated directly for the Twin Suns. 
The plan had been for the survivors to link up, swing around the system primary 
in a gravity-well turn, and then hurl themselves against the rear of the force 
blockadingthe Darthanstargate. They were to time their attack to coincide with 
the second phase of Dasanus attempt to break theDarthan blockade.
The plan had been as good as he could make it, yet when the second wave of 
starships swam through the stargate, they hadfoughthadtofight alone. Of the 
breakout force, there had been no sign. Despite great courage under fire, the 
battlewenthad gone against them and the warriors of The Racehad again 
retreatedwere forced to retreat .
As one trained in war from the egg, Dasanu had to grudgingly admire the bipeds 
strategy in capturing the Twin Suns. Stocks of replacement parts and weapons 
were already in short supply, and other shortageswere beginning to be noticedhad 
begun to be felt . Between the loss of ships and warriors, and the degradation 
of the resupply effort, he calculated that The Race had perhaps one more chance 
to break out of the cage into which the two-legged monsters had placed them.
To get ready for what would likely be the final assault, he had stripped twelve 
star systemsof needed resources, unconcerned with the impacton those systemsfrom 
what amounted to sanctioned looting. Slowly, he built a force of overwhelming 
power, one that ought to break the blockade by the simple expedient of 
exhausting the enemys ammunition supply. Nor would there be any retreat this 
time. To enhance the fighting spirit of his warriors, Dasanuhad decreed that 
ships sent through the stargate would have their star drivestemporarily 
disabled. Once engaged in battle, they would be unable tojump to 
safetyreturntothesafetyofDarthan even if they wishedtoit . This fight would be 
to victory, or to death.
Consumed as he was by his preparations, the last thing Dasanu expected was that 
the bipeds would invade The Races ancestralhome star system. After all, time 
was on their side. All they had to do was wait, and eventually, The Race would 
be unable to mount acredible defense. Thus, it was a surprise when he received 
the report thatFar Seeker was in the stargate with a message from the two-legged 
monsters. He was even more surprised when Those Who Rulehad agreed to speak with 
them. He watched in helpless rage as a biped ship swam through the stargate and 
was escorted to Darthan. Later, even as his preparations for the attack entered 
their final phase, the bipeds pirate craft was escorted back to the stargate, 
and in contravention of all military logic,been allowed to leave.
Thencamehadcomett he final insult. With the fate of The Race in the balance, 
with ships and warriors and the massed weapons of interstellar war assembled to 
do his bidding, Dasanuhadreceived his final instructions from Those Who Rule. 
Theywerehad been the greatest surprise of all. He stared at the symbols on his 
work screen and wondered what sort of lunatic would issue such orders.
More importantly, what sort of lunatic would follow them?
Still only half believing what it wasthat they directed him to do, he keyed for 
his master command circuit and quietly said, Move the bombs into position. 
ReadyPositionthe first wave. Death to the Swift Eaters!
#
Since joining the blockade, Captain Carter had ordered spin taken offConqueror . 
Thus, as Drake swamthroughthehatchofonto the blastships bridge towing his 
vacuum suit, he found everyone else in the compartment suited up, with their 
helmets clamped within easy reachof their duty stations. This was not unusual. 
The battle crews had been standing watch in their suits for weeks, expecting an 
attack.
 What happened? he asked as he floated to one of the observer couches behind 
the captains station. As he did so, he hung his suit in midair, lifted his 
feet, and shoved them into the legs in the awkward motion of someone who, having 
been caughten flagrante delicto , is now trying to put his pants on while 
running from a jealous husband. Once his legs were ensconced in the slick 
fabric, he bent double, lifted his arms over his head, and slipped into the 
torso section, then sealed the waist jointwith the skill of long practice.
Captain Carter turned around, noticed his presence, and said, There you are, 
sir! We just had twelve anti-matter bombs go off in the foldpoint. Big, dirty 
ones. They must have massed a million kilos each from all the crap they 
vaporized when they exploded. We read oxygen, iron, manganese, uranium, 
fluorine, iodine, several rare earths, and practically everything else in the 
periodic table. It looks like theyre trying to clear out our mine fields, and 
doing a damned good job of it.
Drake nodded. They were trying the same trick as when they had made their 
breakout, except this time they would get no points for subtlety. By filling the 
foldpoint with charged particles, they not only screwed up the fleets sensors, 
they were disabling the nasty ordnance so lovingly sown throughout the foldpoint 
over the past several weeks.
What sort of dispersal did they get on the bombs?
Completely random so far as we can tell.
 ThankGodtheyhaventyetlearnedtomakethosethingspopoutexactlywheretheywantthem!
Any Ryall ships come through?
Carter shook his head. Density is still too high. We should be seeing them in 
approximately two minutes.
Polluting the foldpoint with energetic plasma was effective at disabling the 
automated weapons. However, the tactic had its drawbacks. Any Ryall starship 
materializing in the middle of that witchs brew would be blind and helpless 
until the plasma dissipated to below critical density. By exploding the bombs, 
the Ryall were telegraphing their intention to attack, giving the blockading 
fleet time to prepare. Giving up the advantage of surprise was not as great a 
handicap as it might have been, however. With the human fleet at full alert 
round-the-clock, there was a limit to how much surprise an attack would 
generate.
Having gotten into his suit, Drake buckled himself to the acceleration couch and 
activated the small banks of screens around him. By rights, he should be down in 
the Fleet Command Center, concerned about the entire action and not merely this 
one ship. However, his old battle station remained a burned-out hulk, and with 
Sergei Gower still in operational command, there was little for an unemployed 
fleet admiral to do.
Not wanting to bother Captain Carter further, Drake thought of the one person he 
could talk to without degrading the quality of the defense. As soon as he 
plugged into the comm system, he called Bethany.
Im here, Richard, she said immediately. Somehow, it seemed longer than five 
minutes since they had been having breakfast together. Her voice had the 
anechoic quality of someone sealed into a vacsuit.
Is your helmet on? he asked over the audio-only circuit. With ship bandwidth 
currently being used by the computers, there were no resources left for full 
vision comm calls by the crew.
Its on. All lights are green and Im strapped in.
Stay that way.
Whats happening?
Theyve sent anti-matter bombs through to clear the foldpoint of our mines and 
sensors. Were waiting on their main attack any minute now.
So Those Who Rule rejected our offer? she asked, her voice plaintive despite 
her attempt to keep it light.
Im afraid so, love. Well, it was worth the try. Whatever happens now is on 
their heads.
We should have argued when they kicked us off Darthan. Maybe if wed just
Dont beat yourself up over what-ifs, he said. Just keep buttoned up, and if 
the alarms sound, get to a lifeboat.
What about you?
Ill get to one near the bridge. There was a long pause, after which he said, 
I love you.
I love you, too, darling. Do you think there will be many of them when they 
come?
As many as they can manage, he replied, and theyre here!
#
While talking to his wife, Drake had let his eyes sweep the large tactical 
screen at the front of the bridge. The twelve antimatter bombs with their 
heavyloads of contaminantscases had transformed space. Gone was the black velvet 
of pure vacuum. In its place grew a dozen incandescent flowers, their blooms 
visibly expanding in deadly symmetry. They had not yet filled the foldpoint with 
energetic particles  it was too large for that  but theyhad filled enough to 
take out more than ninety percent of the high-acceleration mines and to blind 
the forest of sensors that controlled many of the foldpoints countermeasures.
Nor were the clouds the green, glowing things they had been before. This time 
they were multi-hued, evidence of the rich mixture of elements with which the 
Ryall had clad their antimatter toroids. The glowing clouds were becoming 
perceptibly more diffuse as he watched. It was once again possible to see stars 
through the clouds. Suddenly, the empty vapors were filled with enemy ships and 
alarms blared all throughConqueror , signaling that the battle was joined.
Space being as vast as it is; only the nearest Ryall warcraft were visible in 
the magnified view. The remainder were invisibly small, hidden in the blackness 
and among the still energetic plasma clouds. Yet, numerous devices vastly more 
sensitive than human eyes detected the invisible enemy and plotted their 
positions on the tactical screens as glowing red icons. One moment, space had 
been free of Ryall ships. The next, a thousand of them filled the foldpoint.
Most humans would have hesitated a moment as the full import of the menace on 
their screens sank in. Conquerors computer was not human. Within milliseconds, 
the ship resounded with the firstthump of a missile launch. It was the first of 
many. With so many targets, the tactical computer had given up on 
point-and-shoot. It immediately switched to maximum-launch-rate mode and began 
to fill space with deadly nuclear-tipped darts, confident that it would be able 
to find targets for all of them.
Nor wasConqueror s computer alone in its evaluation of the tactical situation. 
All around the foldpoint, other ships and fortresses poured weapons into space 
as quickly as their reloading mechanisms would cycle. Within the ships, a steady 
stream of missiles moved from magazine to launcher to space. Lasers opened up to 
rake across the hull plates of the enemy and antimatter projectors vomited their 
ravening beams of neutral antiparticles at the nearer enemy ships.
In the maelstrom of danger, Ryall ships began to disappear in actinic flashes of 
radiance. All over the multihued sky, the deadly firefly pulses of warheads 
exploding punctuated the blackness. The foldpointburnedwas aflame with 
eye-searing explosions and bursts of gamma rays. Richard Drake watched as a 
Ryall ship twice the size ofConqueror explodedinaburstoflight and was gone, 
replaced by a glowing cloud of iron-rich plasmathat added its substance to the 
preexisting space pollution.
All of the destruction was not in humanitys favor, however. Here and there in 
the blockade force, similar bursts of radiance brightened and then dimmed, each 
marking the deaths of hundreds of human beings.
In the gap between the two forces, laser beams stabbed out and killed incoming 
missiles before they could reach their targets. Where the lasers were slow to 
tunnel through the missile bodies, warheads exploded in an attempt to damage 
their targets. Given enough sensor damage, a ship would either have to retreat 
or face imminent destruction.
The contest of slash and parry continued for a full minute that seemed an 
eternity. As quickly as they had appeared in the foldpoint, the Ryall ships 
noted the shortest path to freedom, and began accelerating in that direction. As 
they closed with the blockading force, they were sprayed with every weapon in 
the human arsenal.
After a full sixty seconds of hell, Drake frowned. During previous attacks, 
Ryall ships thathad emptied their magazineshad always jumped back through the 
foldpoint to safety. This time,however, none of the enemy craft was leaving the 
carnage of their own accord. True, the count of enemy ships in the foldpoint was 
falling steadily, but only because of the wholesale destruction there.
He activated the comm circuit to Captain Carter. They arent retreating, even 
when disabled. They just fight on until we explode them.
The captain agreed. Looks like they arent even trying to recharge their jump 
generators. This must be a do or die effort.  What the hell?
Drake looked at his tactical displays just as another alarm sounded through the 
ship. The Ryall fleet, thinned considerably by the slugfest, had suddenly been 
reinforced, and not merely by another wave of ordinary marauders.
Those arent starships, he exclaimed. Theyre orbital fortresses!
#
Dasanu ofStar Hunter watchedthe last of the stargates massive forts disappear 
into nothingness and wondered how his warriors were faring a hundred light years 
distant. For just a moment, he wondered if it had been smart to disableall of 
his ships star drives after they swam through the gate. Perhaps he could have 
left some active in order to receive reports of the battle. But no, authorizing 
some ships to depart the carnage would have been bad for warrior morale.
 Unbidden, he was reminded of a story related by a biped prisoner to one of 
Dasanus interrogators. The beast, it seemed, had been of a clan called the 
Greeks. Hehadrecounted a story of his ancestors, of a sept called the 
Spartans. It seemed that these Spartans were trained as fighters from the egg. 
When female Spartans sent their hatchlings into battle, they did so with the 
admonition to Come back with your shield, or on it. Dasanu had required 
considerable explanation before he grasped the meaning of the sentiment, which 
was that Spartan warriors were expected to achieve victory or death. It was a 
sentiment that seemed particularly apropos for a Warrior of The Race, especially 
in the battle now raging beyond the stargate.
With the stargates fortresses gone to battle, there was only one force left to 
commit to the struggle.
Move the ship into position, he orderedStar Hunter s astrogator. Prepare to 
swim through the gate.
#
Ponderous, slow, and packed to the hull plates with heavy missiles and fusion 
generators, orbital fortresses were the guardians of the foldpoints on both 
sides of the battle lines. Human fortresseswerestationedjustoutsideguarded every 
important foldpoint in human space, or hadbeen before several were moved to 
Spica to support the blockade. A quarter-kilometer in diameter, they were the 
most powerful mobile constructs ever built. Their Ryall counterparts were even 
larger.
They must have stripped the defenses, Drake said as soon as eighteen of the 
big, ponderous spheres materialized in the foldpoint. Theyre sending 
everything through, not holding back so much as a scout boat.
Concentrate fire on the fortresses, a disembodied voice announced over the 
comm circuit as though it were ordering dinner. Of course, the owner of the 
voice could afford to be calm in the face of the enemy. It was a computer.
The fleet of whichConqueror II was a part shifted its steady stream of missiles 
and beams. Instead of picking off the smaller Ryall craft, most ordnance now 
concentrated on the sluggish behemoths. Adding to the firepower were the 
half-dozen human fortresses that had once guarded foldpoints throughout human 
space. In quick succession, two of the eighteen new arrivals exploded silently 
into expanding clouds of plasma. Not, however, before they killedhalf-a-dozena 
double handful of human ships.
We may have a problem, Carter said over their private comm link to Drake.
What?
Look at your consumables display.
Drakes eyes shifted to one of his small screens. There was displayed a list of 
everything the blastship consumed in combat  from missiles to the ablative 
coolant used to cool the lasers. Beside each consumable was a color-coded bar, 
and everywhere, especially the missile magazines, the bars were shifting from 
yellow to red. Conquerorwas running low on ammunition.
 Theyre trying to swamp the defense!
And doing a good job of it, the captain said. Here comes a new batch. Its 
going to be close.
#
Engage the nearest biped warcraft! Dasanu ordered. Star Hunterhad materialized 
near the edge of the stargate and found numerous enemies within range of its 
weapons. WhileStar Hunter s crew took care of the local enemies, Dasanu worked 
his screens, attempting to make sense of the carnage around him.
Throughout the stargate, ships were accelerating directly for their enemies and 
spewing out the deadly tools of war. Beams flashed, leaving freshly ionized 
trails through the roiling plasmaleft over from the antimatter bombs. Other 
beams traced back along those bright, glowing paths, carving hull plates and 
searing the living flesh inside. Everywhere his sensors looked, they found the 
remains of his ships spewing oxygen and water vapor to vacuum, or seeding the 
vacuum with expanding cloudsofplasma rich in vaporized iron.
 The enemy globe appeared to be holding, although there were several gaps that 
ships of The Race were attempting to exploit. Yet, holding or not, the bipeds 
had been hurt. Even as he watched, the density of missiles entering the stargate 
declined perceptibly. He queried his computer. Sure enough, some of the smaller 
biped warcraft had stopped firing missiles, their magazines having been 
exhausted. They were now firing only their beams in defense of themselves and 
their brethren.
Dasanus forces, too, were slackening their rate of fire. However, in their 
case, the loss was due to the destruction of so many ships. The fortresses 
seemed to be the focus of enemy fire, which was good news for the battered 
starships. As he watched, a fortress took a near miss from a missile and a great 
gout of flame erupted from its side. Moments later, another missile entered the 
gaping hole and exploded at the fortresss center. Dasanu watched as it flashed 
out of existence.
On the other side of the line, a biped ship exploded and tumbled away into 
blackness with half its length gone and the hulk spraying bodies and droplets of 
molten metal into space.
First Warrior, we are coming under attack, his tactical specialist reported.
Begin defense. Return fire against the ships that are firing on us. Engines to 
full. Aim forLetsseeifwecangetthroughthat hole in their globe directly in front 
of us.
Dasanu felt the shudder of missiles leaving his flagship as their white-hot 
exhausts washed over hull plates. He sank deeper into his acceleration frame as 
the engines began drivingStar Hunter toward the spot where moments earlier, a 
biped cruiser had guarded space.
On his screen, small representations of missiles neared his ship as beams winked 
out and destroyed them. Yet, the points of destruction seemed to be floating 
closer with each one destroyed.
Begin evasive maneuvers, he ordered.
It was the last order he ever gave.
A quartet of pinpoints did not stop. They hurtled towardStar Hunter . Lasers 
reached out and destroyed two missiles cleanly, while detonating a third. 
Unfortunately, the flash of nuclear fire blinded the ships sensors for nearly 
three heartbeats. That was sufficient for the surviving missile to seek out its 
prey.
There was a spherical flash of light, and suddenly,Star Hunter was no more.
#
Sergei Gower frowned as he watched a duel between two orbital fortresses. His 
bridge screen displayed the tactical situation throughout the foldpoint. The 
slaughter of Ryall ships had been horrific. Of the more than one thousand ships 
with which the enemy began the battle, they had fewer than four hundred left. Of 
the eighteen fortresses that had made the jump into the Darthan-Spica foldpoint, 
only six remained and they were taking damage at a prodigious rate.
He, in turn, had lost somethirtwen ty ships destroyed and another fourteen 
damaged sufficiently to put them out of action. Yet, the lopsided score was 
deceptive. For despite their losses, the Ryall fleet still far outnumbered his 
own and the human ships were beginning to run out of ordnance.
Give me a display of all ships and their remaining ammunition stocks, he 
snapped at his tactical officer.
The needed schematic appeared on his local situation screen. Fully half of the 
cruisers had already shot themselves dry and even the blastships were beginning 
to move over into the red.
Gower swore under his breath and wondered if they were going to be overwhelmed 
after all.
Suddenly, the Ryall fortress he had been watching exploded in silence and the 
human fortress shifted its fire to the smaller ships desperately attempting to 
flee the foldpoint. The fortresses, at least, had the magazine capacity to keep 
firing long after the other ships of the fleetexhausted their missileshad run 
dry. As he watched, dozens of Ryall craft near the fortress began to explode.
Smiling grimly, he keyed his command circuit and sent a message out along the 
spider web of laser beams that knitted his ships into a single command.
All fortresses, concentrate on the smaller ships. Their defensive fire appears 
to be diminishing. Repeat, all fortresses, fire on blastships and smaller.
The human fortresses shifted fire and slowly, over long seconds, the number of 
explosions within the foldpoint multiplied. Even the enemy fortresses seemed to 
be affected. Six Ryall fortresses became four within the span of two seconds, 
then four became three.
Gower watched as the count of enemy ships began decrementing downward. The 
process seemed to grow on itself. The smaller the number, the faster the total 
decreased. As he held his breath, the Sandarian admiral watched as the number of 
enemy ships dropped into double digits. Just as it did, the last of the Ryall 
orbital fortresses exploded.
Keep pouring it on, people, he muttered to no one in particular as it became 
clear that humanity was gaining the upper hand. Now if only the Ryall didnt 
have another couple of thousand ships to throw against them
#
Damn, I think were going to make it! Drake said to himself as he watched the 
last Ryall orbital fortress explode. Conqueror IIwas one of the ships that had 
been spewing missiles at it after Admiral Gower ordered the human fortresses to 
begin whittling down the Ryall ships.
In space warfare, obtaining a kill was mostly a matter of saturating an enemys 
defenses. This was done by a combination of knocking out their sensors and 
presenting them with too many offensive missiles to handle. Given a sustained 
rate of fire against a ship, eventually, it will miss an incoming warhead.
That was what happened to the fortress. A couple of near misses took out a large 
portion of sensors on one side, and then the defending computers proved unable 
to keep up with the hailstorm of ordnance thrown at them by three human 
blastships and two cruisers. They had been picking off the missiles regularly, 
but suddenly, one struck home and detonated.
There is a natural human reaction in battle to concentrate all of ones 
attention on whoeverit iswhois trying to kill you. Thus, when Drake glanced at 
the tactical screen and tookintin the big picture for the first time 
sinceConqueror began its duel with the orbital fortress, he was surprised to 
discover fewer than eighty Ryall ships were left.
He blinked and discovered that there were 78, and then within the space of two 
breaths, there were 60. As the number of enemy craft decreased, more human ships 
shifted their fire to the survivors. The process becamewhathaslongbeenknownas a 
death spiral. Suddenly, almost without his being aware of it, the number of 
Ryall craft fell to one, and then to zero as a lizard cruiser explodedinto a 
plasma ball.
Richard could hear his heart pounding in his ears as a deathly silence fell 
overConqueror s bridge. For a long minute, there was nothing but silence as 
anxious eyes scanned the screen for new enemies. Then, someone cheered. Richard 
was not sure whether the cheer came over the comm circuit or from someone in the 
compartment with him. Whoever had initiated it, suddenly hundreds of voices were 
screaming in excitement and the shipwas filled with pandemonium. From the open 
command circuits all over the blockading fleet, other voices screamed their joy.
After half a minute, Captain Carter ordered, Pipe down, people. Tactical, 
whats our missile state?
We have 28 left, sir.
Lasers?
Down to twenty percent on coolant.
Drake whistled. They had just barely made it. Looking at the screen with its 
still glowing plasma, he visualized all of the wreckage that filled it, the 
remnants of ships and lizard warriors. Contemplating the disaster that had 
befallen humanitys enemies, he suddenly had a horrid thought.
What if they arent through?
Pelham Carter did not turn around. He did not have to. Richard noted the sudden 
reddening of his neck where it cleared the helmet seal of his vacsuit. It was 
obvious that the thought had just occurred to him as well.
With dozens of worlds to draw from, who said the Ryall had only gathered up a 
thousand ships to send against them? In fact, given sufficient resources, Drake 
would have struck his enemies in two waves. First, he would send through half 
his force, exhaust the defenders magazines, and then while they were 
congratulating themselves on their victory, surprise them with the other half of 
his fleet.
He did not have the opportunity to voice his suspicions. Suddenly, alarms rang 
on the bridge and throughout the ship. As they did, his heart leaped into his 
throat and his stomach, which had been slowly relaxing, was once again a hard 
lump in his abdomen.
Enemy breakout in the foldpoint! the computer voice announced in its too calm 
soprano.
How many? Carter demanded.
There was a pause until the tactical officer said, Just one, sir.  We have an 
identity on it. ItsFar Seeker and they are asking to talk to Admiral Drake.
One of his local screens flashed and he found himself looking at the head and 
snout of a Ryall he recognized. It was Varlan.
What is it? he asked as soon as the familiar features appeared.
There was a pause far longer than any communication delay. Then Varlan opened 
her mouth, showed the tip of her tri-forked tongue, and said, We surrender, 
Richard. Those Who Rule accept your conditions.
#
Chapter 37
Royal Avengers hangar bay was a beehiveof activityas Richard Drake departed his 
landing boat and made his way to the airlock where Phillip awaited him. The 
Sandarian flagship was still in zero gravity to facilitate the comings and 
goings of the repair boats and medical craft rendering aid to those ships hit in 
the recent battle. As he pulled himself along the guide rope, he halted to allow 
two medics to pass. They were towing a pressurized stretcher from which a low 
groan emanated. Drake set his jaw and cursed under his breath as he resisted the 
reflex to avert his eyes from the contorted features of the injured crewman 
visible through the transparent bubble. His wife was fond of quoting someone 
called the Duke of Wellington, who had once stated, The only thing worse than a 
battle won is a battle lost. Since beginning this campaign, Drake had developed 
a new appreciation for the sentiment.
Good afternoon, sir, Phillip said when Drake finally made it to the airlock.
Your highness. Any damage toRoyal Avenger ?
No, sir. We came through the storm without a scratch. Unfortunately, we lost a 
lot of friends onWanderer andAmethyst . I suspect you met some of them when you 
were at court.
Yeah, I heard. We lostDagger with all hands, too. There are going to be tears 
in Homeport when the news gets there. ASNSDaggerwas one of the old terrestrial 
cruisers that had been trapped in the Alta system when the Antares supernova had 
isolated the colony. She was the sister ship toDiscovery , which had been 
Drakes command during the expeditions to New Providence and Earth. Im afraid 
that everyone has someone to grieve this time.
Its a damned waste, sir, Phillip replied.
It sure the hell is, Drake agreed. Lead off, Captain. Wed best not keep 
Admiral Gower waiting.
Phillip led him through the familiar corridors until they reached the admirals 
command center just aft ofRoyal Avenger s bridge. A dozen ship captains were 
arrayed around the conference table, each strapped into a tubular frame bolted 
to the deck. As Drake and Phillip entered the compartment, the prince moved to 
an empty place halfway down one side of the table while Drake moved to the foot. 
A ship in micro gravity is no place for the snapping to attention nonsense 
practiced by wet navies and ground armies, so Drake strapped himself in without 
ceremony.
When he was secure, Sergei Gower intoned, Admiral Drake, I relinquish command 
of the fleet to you.
Thank you, Admiral Gower. I receive the command from you. Drake replied 
formally.  He then paused and looked around the table at the assembled captains. 
Ladies and Gentlemen, I trust your ships are operational.
There was a general nodding of heads. That was no surprise, as this council of 
war had been assembled only from the starships thathad coame through the battle 
intact. That single criterionhad left several familiar faces absent, and 
unfortunately, some of them were dead.
Each of your ships is being resupplied as we speak, or will be shortly. As soon 
as your magazines are topped off, you will formTaskFleet Force DarthanPrimeand 
proceed through the foldpoint to determine if the Ryall surrender offer is 
genuine. If you are fired upon, you will defend yourself andjump 
backinitiateyourreturnhereashere as quickly as your generatorscanare recharged. 
If there is no resistance, you will secure the foldpoint and send a ship back 
here to report. We will then dispatch orbital fortresses to strengthen your 
force. Under no circumstances,however, are you to make any moves thatmight be 
construed as acanbejudged threat to the planetor to the orbital infrastructure 
of the enemy. Any questions?
Yes, sir, replied Vice Admiral Aguerre. His force of Terrestrial Space Navy 
ships had reinforced the Darthan blockade the previous month. His flagship was 
the BlastshipTSNSMichigan and he would commandthe expedition into Ryall 
spaceTask Force Darthan . What makes us think that this surrender offer is 
legitimate?
We dont know what to think, Admiral. We believe they stripped their foldpoint 
defenses to build the force they hurled against us here. The presence of 18 
orbital fortresses in the attack makes it probable thatwhat we just sawtheirwas 
a maximum effortand that the surrender is genuine. However, you may also be 
jumping into a trap, which is why we want you strong enough to hold your own 
until you canget back here.
 assessthesituation.
Where is the Ryall representative now, sir? Captain Anderson, a blonde 
terrestrial with a scar on her cheek asked.
Varlan has been taken aboardConqueror , where she is being interrogated by my 
wife. We should have a reading on her story before you jump.
He let his eyes sweep the faces of the assembled commanders. I want it 
understood that there are to be no heroics. Your job is to go in, look, and run 
like hell if you encounterresistance. ablockingforceinanysignificantforce.  
Given the depleted state of our foe, there is a good chancethat we can assemble 
enough ships here to take whatever they have left. However, before we can commit 
toan attack, we needforcing the foldpoint, we needtactical intelligence. That is 
your one and only job, Ladies and Gentlemen. Assess the situation and report.
Now, is there are no further questions, youmaycan all return to your ships. 
Good luck to you all.
#
Bethany Drake sat on the edge of the cramped bunk she shared with her 
husbandnext to a small pile of possessions.next to hersmall pile of possessions. 
 At her feet was an open kit bag. She ignored both the pile and the bag, and 
concentrated her attention instead on the small, glittering rectangle held 
gently between thumb and forefingerof her right hand. A full color, 
three-dimensional mirage hovered a few centimeters above the glasslike polymer, 
an image of her son.  It was the picturethat shehadhh ad taken just beforeshe 
abandoningedlittle Ritchie to her uncle. It was the imagethat she kept always 
near her heart, and the one she looked at every evening before going to bed.
As she gazed at her infant sons upturned pink face, his twinkling blue eyes, 
and his impish smile, she remembered how much trouble it had been for the baby 
holographer to coax that expression out of him. All he had wanted to do was 
crawl under the chair occupied by his anxious mother. Ritchie had his fathers 
stubborn streak and she suspected that he would be a handful in ten or twelve 
years because of it. Still, she would not trade him for any other baby in the 
universe.
Unbidden, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. They became a flood as she 
thought of how much he must have grown since she had kissed him goodbye in 
Homeport. As her vision blurred, she reached up to wipe the tears away, only to 
have the storm turn into a flood.
She had always resented her tendency to cry at inopportune moments. It was one 
thing she envied in men  their ability to fake impassivity in moments of great 
emotion. She wished she were better at it. Yet, the watery veil through which 
she viewed her surroundings was not the result of sorrow. The tears that filled 
her eyes were tears of joy.
In less than 24 hours, she would begin the long journey home. In another two 
months, less if she were lucky with her connections, she would once again bounce 
her son on her lap and coo baby talk into his ear. On that day, she would begin 
to forget. Slowly, she would put out ofher mind the hardship and fear, the death 
and suffering, the tension and danger of these past few months. Someday, she 
knew, the war would recede to nothing more than a bad memory. Eventually, if she 
lived long enough, she might even look back on it, if not with fondness, then 
possibly with the warm glow of nostalgia. For all of the rest of her life, she 
would have the satisfaction of knowing that she had played an important part in 
concluding the century-old horror.
She had come to Spica to convince her husband and everyone else that, despite 
their alien thought processes, the Ryall would always act in their own best 
interest  that being the classic definition of intelligence. In retrospect, 
Bethany realized, her long association with Varlanhad caused her to fall into 
the most basic trap of xenology  anthropomorphism.
There is something in the human mind that ascribes human characteristics to 
animals and inanimate objects. The tendency to anthropomorphize has its uses. 
For one thing, it is responsible for mankinds first great partnership with 
another species  the ancient alliance between man and dog.
The identity of the first human being to realize that the wild wolves of the 
forest could be tamed is lost in the mists of prehistory. Even so, the bond that 
formed in that long ago time has survived undiminished through the millennia.
It helps that both humans and dogs are pack animals, and therefore, possess 
similar cultures. To humans, dogs become part of the family, surrogate children 
that are subject to childrens rules. In most families, Fido is treated as a 
smaller, furrier version of little Johnnie. To dogs, humans are the leaders of 
their adoptive pack, the alpha animals of the relationship, the source of a 
steady supply of food and affection.
To live together, humans and canines each imagine the other one of their own 
kind, and modify their actions accordingly. The dogs can be forgiven the error 
since they do not know any better. However, humans, who intellectually recognize 
the inherent differences, nevertheless insist on telling themselves that dogs 
are just little people.
It had been that way with Bethany and Varlan, although she never thought of the 
Ryall as a pet. As she came to like the Ryall prisoner, her attitude toward 
Varlan changed subtly. Where before she had only seen the long snout, rounded 
head, mobile ears, and obsidian eyes as alien, with familiarity, she had 
developed the empathy required to see past the alien physique to the soul of a 
friend.
It had therefore come as a shock when, following the Ryall surrender, Varlan 
demonstrated how utterly alien were the thought processes of her species.
The most inviolable law of life is that every species, whether intelligent or 
not, must conform to the universe as it is. That the capture of Spica would 
eventually cause the Ryall economy to collapse was a given. What no one had 
known was how effective the tactic would proveto be, especially when aided by 
the massive expenditure of ships and warriors in attempts to break through the 
human blockade.
By the timeQueen Julia materialized in the Darthan foldpoint, Those Who Rule had 
begun to see real disruptions in their war effort. They could project when those 
disruptions would cause their defenses to collapse and had come up with a far 
shorter span of time than had human planners.
Apparently (she made a mental note that she might again be humanizing Varlans 
version of events), the presentation she and Richardhad made to the Ryall 
rulershad left a deep impression, although not the one intended. Faced with the 
collapse of their industrial capability, Those Who Rulehad faced squarely the 
unpalatable choice between surrender and extinction. In this, at least, 
Richards plan had worked flawlessly.
What had not gone as planned was the Ryall response to their surrender demand. 
When forced to confront their predicament, it had taken Those Who Rule only 
about four hours to decide that they had to either break the blockade, and soon; 
or else, surrender. Having come to that conclusion, they lost no time in taking 
action to resolve their dilemma.
Long beforeQueen Julia entered Darthan, Those Who Rule began assembling a 
massive force of ships and warriors. After hearing humanitys ultimatum, theyhad 
merely accelerated their plan for one last, desperate attempt to break the 
blockade. After all, they reasoned, surrender would cost them their warriors 
anyway, so why not expend them in a last attempt to breakout of the trapthe 
blockade ?
As Varlan explained, her assignment had been one of last resort. Far Seekerwas 
to be the final ship sent to Spica. If on her arrival, she found her species 
victorious,FarSeekerGalatan would addhiit s weapons to the battle. If, 
however,theyshe found the Ryall fleet broken and the foldpoint defenses intact, 
her orders were to transmit their surrender.
During her debriefing, Varlan had cleared up another mystery. The reasonQueen 
Julia had been allowed to leave Darthanand return to Spicawas to carry word of 
the surrender negotiations. Had the diplomatic ship not returned, it was likely 
that any Ryall ship materializing in the foldpoint would beinstantly 
destroyedinstantly, making it impossible forhumanity to learn of The Races 
capitulation.to accept the terms of surrender. By allowing the peace party to 
return to the fleet, Those Who Rule had kept their options open.
It was the cold-bloodedness of the calculation that finally convinced Bethany of 
the alien nature of the Ryall mind. She doubted her own species could have made 
such a decision, and never as quickly ashad Those Who Rulethe Ryall . Human 
beings do not, as a rule,surrender meekly when faced with overpowering odds. 
Rather, they fight on long after fighting makesnoany logical sense.
Bethany wondered if the Ryall knew the risk they had been taking when they 
decided to launch a ferocious attack,then surrender. The temptation to put a 
missile intoFar Seeker might have been overwhelming to spacers who had just seen 
thousands of their friends killed.
Still, everything had worked out in the end.
The war was far from over, of course. For one thing, only Darthan had so far 
surrendered. There were dozens of other Ryall worlds. Each would need to see 
reason before missiles and laser beams ceased arcing through the black sky. A 
thousand things couldstill go wrong  everything from bad faith by one side or 
the other, to interspecies misunderstandings, to bad luck. Still, the end was 
finally in view.
Despite the aching emptiness Bethany felt each time she thought about her infant 
son on far-off Alta, she knew that her decision to abandon him had been the 
proper one. It meant that she would miss his first birthday party, and that he 
would probably be walking before she saw him again. Those treasured moments 
would be lost forever, never to be retrieved. However, there would be other 
moments. She would be present for his first day of school. She would attend his 
college graduation. She would weep from the front row when he said his marriage 
vows.
One thing she would never do, however, was wave to him from a spaceport gallery 
as his shuttle blasted skyward to take him ultimately to his death among the 
stars. True, she had abandoned her baby, but in the process, she had secured her 
sons future.
Peace was not yet at hand, but it was in sight. After more than a century, the 
bloodshed would end and mothers everywhere could once more plan their childrens 
future without fear. Yet again, a naked ape from a small planet orbiting a 
nondescript yellow dwarf star had persevered.
Humanity would live, as would a race of intelligent lizards that had once fought 
a voracious fishlike killer.
That was an accomplishment of note, and certainly one worth a good cry.
#
The End