Eternity's End

Prologue Impris

In the shifting sands of time, the starship seemed always to be sliding, falling, never quite at a point where human intervention could bring it under control. It was not the slide of time itself that befuddled its occupants so much as the endless spinning pirouettes, the sideways shifts and turns that left them eternally breathless and anchorless.

And anchorless the starship was, in a network of splintered spacetime that stretched up and down the spiral arms of the galaxy, and from one end of time to the other…

Jamal awoke with a start, sweating and shaking. He sat for a moment, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of Impris around him; then he growled to his cabin for a nightlight. As the pale orange glow came up, he peered around, breathing heavily, reassuring himself that everything in his cabin was normal. As normal as anything could be on the haunted ship.

Except in his head. The nightmare was back again, returned to plague him. Damn you, he thought. Damn you damn you…

Cursing the thing that lay in wait for them—great writhing monster of the Flux, lurking invisibly, waiting for them to move their net in the wrong direction…

Jamal shut his eyes, willing the image away. Poppy had been complaining of it two nights ago, and last week Sully. Where the hell was this vision coming from? It couldn’t be real.

The monster stretched in a tortuous line across the sky—a great threatening serpent, turning this way and that, looking for them. No question about that: it was looking for them. Looking to devour any living thing that fell within its reach. And they were falling… falling…

Jamal’s eyes snapped open again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten. Do not let it control you, he thought grimly. It’s only a dream.

Only a dream.

A dream to fill an already nightmarish existence, stranded in a limbo without end, without hope. God, was it just his subconscious? Or was this realm of insanity finally becoming complete? No, surely it was just a nightmare.

Bad enough that one of them had it. But why all of them? Was it possible they were infecting each other with their fears—like a damn virus from the subconscious? If they weren’t careful it would overwhelm them all.

Overwhelm us, but with what… what’s worse than this kind of eternity?

He didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to close his eyes until he’d cleared his head of this image, but his brain was too tired, too desperately craving sleep, and before he even knew what was happening, he slipped helplessly back into the shifty, perilous world of his nightmare…

Impris Patrol

Jakus Bark had decided that few things were more tedious than being on a raider patrol. Lying in wait, the rigger-net stretched out into the void, the ship floating… bor-r-r-rinnggg. From time to time the riggers roused themselves from the tedium to scan the distant Flux for moving ships. The latter was almost unnecessary; when ships did come into view, they were noticed immediately by the AI component of the net. But in four weeks out here, it had only happened twice—for just one kill, and that a decrepit freighter not worth salvaging. The other sighting had disappeared without coming within range.

Jakus thought they were wasting their time here, drifting in hiding, keeping one eye out for the shadowy, intermittent trace of Impris—lost and unreachable in some weirdly separated pocket of the Flux—and another eye out for spaceship traffic that might be drawn toward the ghostly vessel. This was chickenshit piracy, dicking around waiting for ships to come along the Golen Space edge of the trade routes so that they could lure them in with distress calls. Why didn’t they just go out and get the ships they wanted?

He supposed it worked, though, or the higher-ups wouldn’t still be doing it this way. The distress calls seemed to work a kind of magic—both the real ones from Impris and the fake recorded ones from Hunter, which they used when the prey were too far away to pick up the real ones. What really made it work, of course, was the way Impris wandered around so unpredictably. Whatever realm she was in, its connection to this one was pretty freakish. Now it loomed into view over here; now it popped up over there. That made it pretty well impossible for the Centrist shippers to identify one region or another as unsafe for travel, even if they’d known for sure about Impris. It was also about the only thing that made patrol interesting for Jakus, when the old ship decided to take a hop and they had to follow. Well—that and the attack, of course.

Action was what Jakus wanted. Not the wait, but the hunt.

He hadn’t always felt this way. He hadn’t always been a pirate, not even at heart. But something had changed after his capture by the raiders of the DeNoble fortress. At first he’d merely been a prisoner working under duress in the nets of pirate ships. But to his surprise, he found exhilaration in the blood hunt, in the search for ships to conquer and capture, or to loot and destroy. This was especially true after his transfer from the backwater of DeNoble to the real powerhouse, Kilo-Mike/Carlotta. The augments helped, of course, urging him on whenever he felt his determination slipping. But it wasn’t as if he were under the control of the augs; he was in command, not some goddamn little superconducting crystal.

By the time of his special assignment to Faber Eridani, he’d become a well-equipped soldier, trained in the arts of espionage and undercover activity. At least he thought so. And then—how incredibly annoying!—Renwald Legroeder, of all people, had somehow managed to escape from DeNoble. And not just escape: he’d come to Faber Eridani, and found Jakus, and challenged the perfect story he’d planted to explain the loss of the L.A.. Once that cover was compromised, his bosses had insisted on faking his death and getting him off Faber Eri. They should have just killed Legroeder, in Jakus’s opinion, but the people at the Centrist Strength shop had been too damn slow on the uptake. They hadn’t wanted to complicate matters by being implicated in a felony murder; never mind that they decided later to try and kill him, and then botched it…

But at least the whole fiasco had brought Jakus back to active duty with the raider fleet. And peering out into the quiet landscape of the Flux, he knew that it was better this way, even if he was bored right now. Because the time would come when they would strike. And his excitement this time would be not just for the thrill of the fight, but for the Free Kyber Alliance. For the colony fleets.

He could stand to wait awhile for their prey. When it came, they would strike like a cobra. Fast and deadly.

Captain Hyutu would see to that.

Chapter 26 Faber Eridani: Harriet

“Peter, you are such a sight for sore eyes!” Harriet exclaimed, as the PI was conducted into the meeting room at the Narseil embassy.

The Clendornan seemed aglow with pleasure. “It is good to see you, too! Both of you.”

“It feels like forever since we left,” Harriet said.

“Since we got back,” said Morgan. “We’ve been holed up in this embassy way too long.”

The Clendornan chuckled. “It’s only been a couple of weeks. Of course, by the time we finally get you out of here, it might really feel like forever.” He chuckled at Morgan’s groan, and then became serious. He looked as he always did when he had something important to say; his wedge-shaped head was slightly tilted, and his mouth was crinkled in a smile on one side, and tight and expectant on the other. “Are you ready for some encouraging news?”

Harriet laughed. “Believe me. We’re ready.”

“I thought you might be.” The Clendornan opened his compad on the table, and as he looked up, his grin seemed almost human. “We finally got our hands on the preliminary McGinnis site report. It wasn’t easy; it seemed to me that someone really didn’t want us to see it.”

“North?” asked Harriet.

Peter shrugged. “Hard to say for certain. But that’s my guess.”

“Why? What did it say?” asked Morgan. “If they didn’t want us to see it, that must mean the results were in our favor.”

The Clendornan nodded. “Nothing’s official yet, but I think you can quit worrying about the arson charges against you. It turns out the house fire was caused by built-in incendiary devices.”

Harriet drew back, stunned.

“What do you mean, built-in devices?” Morgan asked quietly.

Peter’s eyes glimmered with purple fire. “Precisely as I said. Self-destruct devices, apparently. I didn’t believe it, either, until I read the whole report. Why would a man build such things into his own home? It made no sense. But the investigators were most thorough, and that’s what they found—along with evidence in the com logs that McGinnis triggered them himself.”

Harriet lowered her eyeglasses, trying to find words. “Let me understand this. McGinnis booby-trapped his own home? Why would he—unless—”

“—unless he felt deeply threatened,” Peter said. “A longtime threat, so grave that he was prepared to destroy himself, his home, and all of his records, rather than… what?” Peter gazed steadily at Harriet. “Of course, he didn’t destroy his records. He gave them to you instead.”

Harriet drew a deep breath, trying not to succumb to dizziness at the implications. “But what was the threat? Why was it so great that he was willing to take his own life?” She pinched her brow, thinking of the records now in their possession. She was more grateful than ever that they had secured copies in various safe locations. She looked at Peter again. “There’s something you’re waiting to tell me.”

Peter gave a lopsided grin. “Not tell you. Show you. Remember the dog?”

“What dog?” asked Morgan.

“McGinnis’s. Harriet remembers, don’t you?”

“How could I forget?” Harriet shuddered at the memory of the dog convulsing outside McGinnis’s house, and then bursting through the security forcefield to flee the fire. She still felt guilty for leaving it. But then, she’d left McGinnis, too.

“Well, one of my people has found it. Brought it back, alive and well.”

Harriet felt her heart race, without quite knowing why. Morgan clapped her hands and cried, “And we get to adopt it?” Harriet eyed her, and Morgan shrugged. “Well, why not?”

Peter eyed Morgan balefully. “I’m pleased that I could amuse you. Perhaps, if all works out, you will get to adopt it. But as a matter of fact, the dog turns out to be carrying some extremely useful information. I brought a vid to show you.” He pulled a cube from his pocket.

Harriet pointed to the player the Narseil had provided them. Popping in the cube, Peter said, “This first one was shot at a safe house outside the city, where we first brought the dog.”

The recording was of moderately amateurish quality. It showed the brown dog, Rufus, in a sparsely furnished room, with two of Peter’s assistants—one apparently controlling the camera, none too steadily. Harriet watched in silent fascination. The dog looked gaunter than she remembered, but seemed unharmed.

“That’s my assistant Norman,” Peter said, pointing to the man on screen who was crouched in front of the dog, trying to calm it. “Irv’s doing camera. He’s the one who caught it. Irv’s afraid of dogs. I was proud of him.”

Harriet nodded, fascinated by what was developing on the screen. The dog was clearly terrified, and growing more so every time it opened its mouth to bark. The reason quickly became obvious. Instead of a bark, what came out were garbled, but almost human, sounds. “What is that?” Harriet asked, leaning closer to hear. It was a husky, hissing voice. “It sounds like words!”

“Mhhusssst rrrr t-hhelll…” rasped the dog.

“Is the dog talking?”

“Hrrrrr… musssst trrrrelll…”

“Must tell?” Harriet looked at Peter and demanded, “Is that what it’s saying?”

Morgan was shaking her head. “You can’t be serious.” But the look of skepticism on her face was evaporating as the dog strained to be heard—and then cringed, as though from the sound of its own voice.

“Very good, Harriet!” Peter said. “It took us much longer to figure it out. But look at this—” He pointed to the screen, where the dog was now pawing at something on the side of its head. The camera zoomed in, and something twinkled behind the dog’s ear.

“An implant! I remember now, Legroeder noticed it.”

“Exactly.” Peter fast-forwarded the playback. “There’s more of this stuff, which you can watch later if you want. But once we realized that it was trying to get us to notice the implant, then we started getting somewhere.” The playback resumed, with Norman whispering soothingly to the dog and gently touching the implant. He murmured, almost inaudibly, “—get you hooked up. We’ll get some equipment on you, boy.” With those words, the dog’s ears perked up and he began licking Norman’s hand frantically.

“The dog understood,” Morgan said in astonishment.

Peter stopped the playback and changed cubes. “Exactly. We didn’t have the right equipment on hand, so we had to do some hunting around. Once we had him hooked up to the right implant com-gear, this is what we heard.”

The second vid started with the dog being connected, with some difficulty, to a modified headset. Rufus remained calm during the hookup procedure, but as soon as the equipment was turned on, he became excited. He barked sharply, twice. And then—not from the dog but from the speaker on the nearby console—came a human voice. Strained and distorted, it was nonetheless recognizable as the voice of Robert McGinnis.

“If you can hear these words, know that the information I am about to give you is extremely urgent—and extremely dangerous. If possible, forward it to Rigger Renwald Legroeder, or attorney Harriet Mahoney—or failing that, anyone looking for the historical truth of the lost starship Impris. Be aware—this information concerns not just Impris, but also present-day interference in local spacing affairs by agents of the so-called Free Kyber Republic.

“Time is short…”

Harriet felt her breath tighten, as Peter paused the playback. “McGinnis must have been recording this at the same time he was getting you out of the house,” Peter said. He unpaused the vid. As the dog sat utterly still, with a strange look of intense concentration, McGinnis’s voice continued:

“I do not know if I will survive the next minutes or hour. I am… under heavy attack from the Kyber pirates who installed these damnable implants in my skull. Thirty years ago they tried to make me their agent on Faber Eridani, and nearly succeeded. I have endeavored to make them believe that they succeeded, while safeguarding the Impris records that they wanted destroyed or altered. With great difficulty, I have managed to deceive my own implants. But no longer.

“I repeat: I am under attack from within—possibly driven by external transmission. The implants have discovered my deception. I am… resisting… under great duress… an almost irresistible command… to kill… Rigger Legroeder and Mrs. Mahoney, to whom I have just released the Impris records. I made a hurried judgment as to their trustworthiness, and I pray I made the right decision. I must resist long enough to let them get clear. I wanted to tell them so much more. But I may have only minutes now before I must end this battle… for good… if I am to keep from destroying them.

“I’ll upload what I can into Rufus’s implants, and hope that it may do some good, if it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. But if it does… to hell with… what can you do to me that you haven’t done already?” The voice became terribly strained. “You… bastards!”

For a moment, there was silence, and then he seemed to regain strength.

“Do not allow this recording to fall into the hands of the Spacing Authority or the RiggerGuild. Both are under the influence of the Free Kyber, the Golen Space pirates. Insidious bastards! For years, they’ve distorted the events of history, betraying their own people to the Kyber. I do not know who to trust in positions of authority—or if you can trust anyone. I only know, the infestation goes very high…”

There was another break in the recording. The dog’s ears twitched, and he seemed about to whine. Peter raised a finger to wait, and then came a last, gasping sentence.

“I will now upload the data log. Take care of Rufus for me…”

His voice trailed off, and there was a rasp of static. Rufus emitted a long howl. Then he lay down and rested his chin on his forepaws, seemingly oblivious to the com set strapped to his head.

Peter turned off the recording. “That was recorded yesterday. My people are working now to see if they can retrieve the data upload. It’s some kind of neural-net recording—very difficult to decipher.”

Morgan’s eyes were wide. “There are some pretty damning statements in there.”

Peter’s eyes glimmered. “Yes, indeed. But no names, no dates, no events. Not yet. That’s what I’m hoping we can get from the recording.”

Harriet nodded, listening with only half her mind, as she remembered: …pray I made the right decision. She heard a voice, and only slowly became aware that it was her own. “He killed himself… so he wouldn’t kill us…”

Peter was preparing to leave when a call came on his collar-com. It was Pew, his Swert associate. “What have you got?” Peter asked. And to Harriet and Morgan: “I sent him up to Forest Hills, near the Fabri preserve. Remember the car that took Maris O’Hare was spotted there… some sort of traffic thing?”

Harriet nodded, as Pew reported in a foghorn voice, distorted by the com. “Nothing from the traffic incident, Peter. But it transpires they made a fueling stop here. An attendant remembers them—that two people got out and walked around the car—the attendant does not recall looking inside the vehicle.” But the attendant did remember their being joined by a local, someone new in town, who lived up in the hills nearby. The attendant was suspicious of newcomers and outsiders, including Pew. “But I persuaded him to tell me which way they headed.”

“Do you have the location?” Peter asked.

“General area. Going to check further, now. I wanted to apprise you.”

“Don’t get too close,” said Peter. “I’m going to send some backup. Where are you now?”

“At the hydrostop.” Pew gave him the address and number.

“Stay put until I contact Georgio. I’ll call you back.”

Peter smacked a fist into his hand and gazed at Harriet and Morgan. “The rental car was returned two hundred kilometers west of here. But only after it went north to a rendezvous in this little town. Does that suggest anything to you?”

“It certainly does,” said Harriet. “That’s near the Fabri native lands. I wonder if Vegas has any connections there.”

“I don’t know about that. But it suggests to me that I’d better go with Georgio,” Morgan said.

“Why, in Heaven’s name?” asked Harriet, a knot tightening in her stomach. “You’re not a detective.”

“We’ve been over this before, Mother. If we find the people holding Maris, we’re going to have to line up the legal case fast. You can’t be there, but I can. I’ll start by producing the hospital documentation showing that they claimed they were taking her to this other hospital in—wherever it was. Arlmont?” Morgan paused only momentarily as Harriet frowned at her. “Then we can call in the local or provincial police. If they’re honest, we can at least get Maris into protective custody in another hospital.” Morgan hesitated. “Assuming she’s still alive, of course.”

Harriet’s heart sank as she thought of the attempt on her life and Legroeder’s. And yet, Morgan was right. They just might have a chance to save Maris, after all.

“All right,” she muttered at last. “You win. Go with Georgio—but you by God be careful!”

Adaria kept her wings close about her as she scurried from the Elmira Public Library, satchel held tightly in her arms. She blinked a trace of a tear from her eyes. She was going to miss the library, and her work. She would miss the friends she had made here. She would miss living in the company of interesting humans.

She would not miss the intimidation and fear, however.

She would not miss the insidious presence of Centrist Strength, and government officials who meddled in the business of truth preservation, which was a proper business of libraries.

It is not good, that people should be driven from such a calling—that the preservation of truth should be interfered with. But what can I do? One Fabri?

It seemed hopeless, and that was troublesome in itself. Adaria had never been one to give up hope. Her mentor would be sorry to hear that it had come to this. Perhaps there was some way to maintain hope. Some way.

As she stepped off the transit platform near her apartment, the chill of memory set in. The memory of the night, ten days ago, when the agents of Centrist Strength had come calling. Terrorist agents, as far as she was concerned. Come to her home. Why hers?

The knock was not loud, but sharp. It was foolish of her to open the door, but somehow the knock seemed commanding. The two men who stood there spoke softly at first, and then with veiled threat in their voices: “…know that there are people you care for, back in the forest… it would be sad if evil came to them. But what you are doing, information you are giving to people who have no right to it, trying to make political gold out of a foolish legend—it has cost one man his life, already. How unfortunate if it cost more lives…”

Even that might not have been enough to cause her to leave her job. No, it was the change at work, her own boss acting as though Adaria had somehow done wrong to provide information to a patron, to Mrs. Mahoney. The chill had set in, not long after Mrs. Mahoney had come to the library asking about Impris; and it had grown steadily deeper, until Adaria simply could stand it no longer.

She let herself into the apartment with a whuffing sigh. Letting down her satchel, she turned and relocked the door with great deliberation. For a moment, she could not move, but just stood back from the door, arms and wings wrapped around herself, shivering. Then she went to the kitchen and put tea water on to heat. While she waited for the water to boil, she went to the com.

“Vegas…”

“Ffff—Adaria. Hello.” Mrs. Mahoney’s housekeeper sounded subdued, but pleased to hear from her. They were more kefling—acquaintances—than truefriends; and yet, in a city with so few Fabri natives, the distinction seemed less important.

Adaria fluttered her wings, trying to think what to say. She’d simply had the impulse to call, without knowing what she would say. “I’ve left my job at the library. It’s just become too… uncomfortable.” Dangerous.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Vegas, who’d lived with her own share of danger in recent weeks. “Are you going to move back home?”

Back with our own people? “Perhaps later,” Adaria admitted, trying not to feel it as a defeat. Driven from human society by racist elements. Was it racism? Or a simpler evil? “Have you heard anything from your employer?”

“Ffff—Mrs. Mahoney and Morgan have returned, and taken refuge in the Narseil embassy.”

“The Narseil?” Adaria asked in surprise. “That’s… most unusual, isn’t it? I was not aware that the Narseil were prone to such hospitality.”

“Unusual, indeed. But there are strange things happening at the Spacing Authority, apparently, and they cannot come home. Plus, there’s the missing woman I told you about before. Mrs. Mahoney just called me, in fact. They think this woman might have been taken to a place up in the home province. They’d like us to put the word out… they don’t know who’s behind it…” The concern, edged with fear, was audible in Vegas’s voice.

Adaria’s own fear was rising again. Centrist Strength… meddling in our land again? “Are you all right, Vegas?”

“Yes—yes, I think I’m safe enough here. Mrs. Mahoney’s people are looking out for me.”

“Good.” Adaria was silent a moment, thinking. “You know, maybe I should think about returning home sooner, rather than later…”

“Will you take word about the woman? Mrs. Mahoney is very worried.”

“Of course. Yes. Send me all the details.”

“I will. And Adaria? Ffff—take care.”

Major Jenkins Talbott read the intelligence reports with a curled lip. He still hadn’t gotten over the way someone had snatched this woman Maris O’Hare out of the hospital before his people could get to her. And he still didn’t know who the hell they were, or why they had done it. Someone trying to muscle in on Strength? But who else would care, or want to put the squeeze on Rigger Legroeder? Not that that mattered now, since Legroeder had fled the planet. But Command—and especially, it seemed, the Kyber affiliates—were even more upset than he was. They wanted her found. It seemed the affiliates didn’t take well to people getting away from their outposts, even podunk backwater outposts.

But at last he had some good news. His people—well, okay, Colonel Paroti’s people, but they were all part of the same division—had tracked her down. It seemed her abductors had gotten a little careless in their driving, and run someone off the road, way up north of here. They’d fled the scene, but a tracker on the other car had made the ID. So now Talbott knew where they were: basically in the middle of nowhere. Which was fine with him. All the easier to get in, make a snatch, and get out—without any hassle from the police or need to involve North and the planetary authorities.

Talbott looked up with a frown as the agent who’d brought him the report entered his cubicle. “Good work, Corporal,” Talbott said, slapping the report down. “Give yourself a pat on the ass for it.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Corporal Sladdak, with a crisp nod.

Talbott chuckled. A loyal Strength soldier, this one. Might make good officer material, some day—if he ever, for chrissake, learned to loosen up a little. So goddamn earnest. Talbott squinted at the wall above Sladdak’s left shoulder, then blinked and picked up a document wafer. “Corporal, I need a message taken over to field ops. We’re asking them to lend us a field action agent. I don’t figure we need the extra body, but Command’s got a bee in their bonnet about it.” He paused, then yanked his gaze back to his man. “Corporal, how’d you like to join me on a little mission? We need to liberate this woman from captivity and take care of her ourselves.”

“I sure would, sir,” the corporal said, without blinking.

“Good. Damn straight. Well, after you deliver this message for me, you go home and get yourself ready for a little field operation. It’s an important one, you hear?”

“Yes, sir…”

Chapter 27 In Search of Impris

The Flux felt different to Legroeder this time, as they flew down the light-years, far from the outer boundaries of Outpost Ivan. A part of him that had grown intensely attached to Tracy-Ace/Alfa was struggling to find a way to fill the emptiness where, against all odds, he had found something to treasure. Or at least want to treasure. Was it real, the thing that had happened to him with Tracy-Ace? He wasn’t quite sure anymore. The Flux—perhaps acting in concert with his heart—felt more tenuous than usual, with a less clearly defined feeling of movement. He couldn’t quite tell if the difference was in him or in the Flux itself—or maybe in the peculiarities of the Kyber ship Phoenix. Despite the lack of feeling of movement, they were speeding along briskly, as though in a planetary jetstream—thin, high-altitude winds.

The primary rigger crew consisted of Legroeder, Deutsch, Palagren, and Ker’sell—with Kyber riggers taking the secondary crew slots, a fact that did not sit well with the Kyber crew. Legroeder, per YZ/I’s orders, was the command rigger in the net; but the ship itself was under the authority of a rugged Kyber captain named Jaemes Glenswarg, a man in his forties, with only modest augmentation. He seemed to have a tough disposition, and likely a willingness to take some risks—but also a predisposition toward conservative flying. That last was some reassurance to Legroeder, who was torn between excitement and fear as he thought of what lay ahead. He was grateful for the trio of Kyber escort ships that had departed along with them. The escort had already dropped back out of visual contact, to a distant shadowing position; but Legroeder was glad they were there—the first time in his life he’d ever welcomed the presence of pirate ships.

Any hope had evaporated for anything like a return to “old times.” He and the Narseil and Deutsch worked well in the net together, as always—but it could never be quite the same, operating under a Kyber flag. If he wasn’t sure whom to trust, the Narseil were even more uncertain. He had vivid memories of going to Fre’geel with the proposed mission…

“Send my people to fly with the Kyber? I’d as gladly send them out the airlock. What did you tell them, anyway?”

“I didn’t have to tell them anything, Fre’geel. They knew all about us, the whole plan!”

It was hard to tell whether Fre’geel’s indignation was real or staged. “What do you mean, they knew—?”

“They were waiting for us. They knew who I was the whole time. They were the ones who sent the feelers to El’ken. The whole thing was a setup to get us here! Not just me; they wanted your people, too!”

The Narseil’s face was transformed by a series of expressions as he struggled to absorb this new information. “You’re saying they brought us here to help them look for Impris?”

Legroeder appealed to Tracy-Ace, who nodded confirmation. “Don’t forget it’s one of the things we came here for, Fre’geel. We have a chance now to try to bring Impris in. Rescue her. Learn the truth.”

Fre’geel glanced back through the window into the holding cell, where a set of portable mist-showers had recently been installed. The Kyber had kept their word on that, at least. But Legroeder could imagine him thinking, how would his crew react if he sent his best riggers out on a Kyber-run operation?

“Perhaps,” Tracy-Ace said dryly, “you would like to hear the actual terms Ivan is offering.”

“Terms!” Fre’geel said, not quite snorting. “Since you have us as your prisoners, you may be able to dictate terms. But you cannot command our actions. Why do you want Impris, anyway?”

Legroeder threw up his hands. “Why don’t you listen to them and find out?”

Fre’geel looked stunned, but in the end he went along to discuss the matter with Yankee-Zulu/Ivan…

And in the end, if Fre’geel did not exactly trust Ivan, he did decide that the Narseil’s prospects for achieving their goals were better with the deal than without. Even if there was no guarantee that YZ/I would uphold the bargain if they rescued the ship, they were at least pursuing contacts and gaining information. Fre’geel argued for the inclusion of Cantha and Agamem as bridge specialists to help analyze the structure of the Deep Flux, and although YZ/I had not originally intended to send non-rigger Narseil, he agreed.

They’d gotten underway without delay, despite signs of considerable wariness between the Narseil team and the Kyber crew. Ker’sell, whom Legroeder suspected had never quite trusted him in the first place, seemed more guarded than ever. Legroeder couldn’t tell if Ker’sell regarded him as a traitor, or if he simply distrusted everyone. Agamem, whom the Narseil really had wanted along for security, rather than Flux analysis, seemed to accept Legroeder’s loyalty; but even so, Legroeder felt he was being watched. As far as he could tell, Palagren and Cantha still accepted him as a friend and crewmate.

Phoenix’s heading was set for upper northeastern Golen Space, where Kyber tracking was last known to have followed Impris. The information at their command was scant; Kilo-Mike/Carlotta, whose ships were currently shadowing Impris, provided only the minimum tracking data required by the Kyber Republic commonality agreements. However, YZ/I’s people had purchased some additional information—they hoped more than just rumor—from a third outpost that had deeper sources than Ivan’s within KM/C.

While Cantha worked with the Kyber crew at the plotting computers, trying to project Impris’s possible locations from the information they had, Legroeder and the rigger team flew on a course traversing the narrow waist of the so-called Golen Space Peninsula. They were aiming for an area not too far from several important routes that skirted Golen Space just a few light-years to the galactic south of the star-birthing region of the Akeides Nebula. The nebula, just outside Golen Space on the route between Karg-Elert 4 and Vedris IV, was a passage of tremendous beauty, but also an area of turbulence, where a number of Centrist ships had been lost over the years.

The nebula was well known to Kyber worlds, too—but for another reason. It was a boundary point of Impris’s wanderings. The ship seemed to meander chaotically, appearing in ghostly fashion in one place and then another, at unpredictable intervals. Its movements seemed limited to a zone a few dozen light-years in length, and a dozen wide and high. The region of the Akeides Nebula marked one end point of that zone.

“Are you saying,” Legroeder heard Cantha asking a Kyber navigator named Derrek, “that there’s a force in the nebula that turns the ship back when it gets too close?”

Derrek’s return gaze seemed to deny all recognition of Cantha’s authority or position. His electronic eyes glanced at Captain Glenswarg, as if to ask, How much do you want me to say?

Legroeder watched in silence. When the captain didn’t speak, Cantha explained, “If we want to locate the ship, we need to understand its behavior. If you have knowledge that bears on our search…” He appealed with a gesture to the captain.

Glenswarg moved his chin up and down a centimeter, nodding.

The Kyber navigator’s mouth pursed as he struggled to accept this. “The answer is, we don’t know.”

Legroeder thought, Was that so hard to say?

“Don’t know what—whether or not the nebula turns Impris back?” Cantha asked.

Derrek shrugged. “For all we know, the nebula just happens to be there. Maybe there’s no connection.” He pressed his lips together, making clear there was nothing else he would offer willingly.

Cantha looked thoughtful as he turned back to the simulation console.

At the end of the fourth day of flying, Cantha and the riggers gathered in the plotting room just aft of the bridge. “I find it interesting,” Cantha said, “that even the Kyber—with all of their ships tracking Impris—cannot accurately predict her course, or even define its limits very precisely.” Cantha gestured to the holo-image floating in the center of the room, where he’d traced out his projections of their course aboard Phoenix. From the net, their course had seemed like a fairly straight line; but from Cantha’s plot of the Flux-layers, it looked more like a mangled corkscrew penetrating the Golen Space Peninsula.

“What are these lines here?” Legroeder asked, reaching out to trace glowing threads that crisscrossed under the path of Phoenix. “Why do they zigzag like that?”

Cantha picked carefully at his teeth. “That’s something you should regard as extremely tentative. I’m trying to sketch out some possible routes of Impris through the—” he hesitated “—underflux.”

“Underflux?” Legroeder asked, cocking an eye at him. “Do you mean the Deep Flux?”

“Only partially.” Cantha’s neck-ridge quivered; he seemed a little reticent, even defensive, as he continued. “Our Institute has been examining a theoretical series of spacetime layerings that we term the ‘underflux.’ We don’t have enough data to confirm or deny our theories, and it’s… not discussed much outside the Institute.”

Legroeder frowned. “Meaning, it’s for Narseil eyes only?”

Cantha shrugged at the implied reproach. “Essentially, yes. Until now. The underflux includes—as nearly as I can tell—the layer that the Kyber refer to when they say the Deep Flux.”

“As nearly as you can tell?”

Deutsch floated forward. “Is there a question about terminology?”

Cantha displayed an uncharacteristic annoyance. “Not just that. No offense, Freem’n, but your Kyber crewmates would sooner open their veins than share their knowledge about the Deep Flux with us. And somebody had better start sharing information. Why’d they bring us along, if they’re not willing to pool knowledge?”

Palagren stirred. “They probably think we’ll use whatever they tell us to try to stop that colony fleet of theirs.”

“And are they wrong?” Deutsch asked. Before anyone could answer, he added, “Don’t forget, these guys are not entirely playing with their own decks here.” He tapped the side of his head. “I don’t think I’m being programmed to respond to you in any particular way, but I’m not sure the same thing is true of the Phoenix crew. There may be low-level safeguards against the spilling of information.”

Legroeder opened his mouth, closed it. If the augments were keeping the Kyber crew hostile… “I’d better talk to Captain Glenswarg about that. If they want us to find Impris, and there’s a chance she’s actually lost in the Deep Flux…”

“It would be very helpful,” said Cantha, “if you could use your influence with the captain.”

That drew a low hiss from behind Legroeder, and he turned to see Ker’sell’s eyes narrowed to thin vertical slits. Legroeder sighed impatiently. “Look, Ker’sell. Unless we cooperate with the Kyber, we’ll never find the ship. I didn’t sell out to them.” At least, I don’t think I did.

Ker’sell blinked slowly, looking like a large, dangerous lizard. “Perhaps not,” he said. “But remember that our interests are not the same as the Kyber’s.” He almost spat the word as he flexed his long-fingered hands. Had his nails grown long and sharp when Legroeder wasn’t watching, or had they always been that way? “I will be watching to see whose interests you serve.”

“Please do,” Legroeder said softly, trying to sound merely annoyed rather than alarmed. He drew a breath. “And now, if you’ll all excuse me, I think I’ll go have that talk with the captain.”

Glenswarg crossed his arms over his chest, facing Legroeder in the commander’s wardroom. “What do you expect me to do about it? I can’t make my men like the Narseil. As long as they’re doing their jobs—”

“But that’s just it. They’re not—” Legroeder caught himself.

“Are you suggested they’re not doing their jobs?” Glenswarg asked in a low voice. Are you questioning my leadership?

Legroeder steeled himself. “They’re not sharing information,” he said slowly. “At least, not freely enough to enable our riggers, and researchers—” brought to you at enormous cost, across many light-years “—to do what’s necessary to complete our mission. To find Impris.”

“I am aware of our mission, Rigger.”

“Yes, sir.” Legroeder paused. “If you don’t mind my asking, Captain—are these crew under… augment control?”

Glenswarg’s gaze narrowed even more. “I don’t see what concern that is of yours.”

“Yes, well—” Legroeder cleared his throat “—let’s just say, if they’re intentionally being made to be suspicious of us, perhaps there is some adjustment that could be made…” His voice trailed off, as the captain’s eyes grew more and more slitted.

“You’re treading very close to accusing me of incompetence, or sabotage,” Glenswarg growled.

Legroeder kept very still for a moment, holding the captain’s gaze. “I don’t mean to, sir,” he said evenly, at last.

There was another pause that seemed to last a dozen heartbeats. “I’ll see what can be done,” Glenswarg said. “Dismissed.”

“Thank you, Captain…”

Legroeder’s request seemed to bear fruit. During the following days, he often saw Cantha working at the sim console with one or more of the Kyber bridge crew; and the Narseil reported in private that the Kyber navigators were becoming a little less grudging in cooperating with his requests. No one was declaring the end of mutual suspicions, but at least he had a sense that they were working together. Of all those on the ship, Cantha clearly had the deepest understanding of the subtleties of the underflux—and even the Kyber crew were coming to recognize that fact, or were being permitted to recognize it.

Days passed, as they flew within distant view of the Great Barrier Nebula, a ghostly green wall that stretched for many light-years along the edge of Golen Space. They were passing to the galactic north of the region known as the Sargasso, where Robert McGinnis had once been shipwrecked. Legroeder fervently hoped that they would have no need to fly any closer to the Sargasso than they were now.

He might as well have wished for a moon.

When Cantha called the riggers together for a look at his latest mapping displays, they were joined by the Kyber crew and captain. As everyone gathered around the floating holo of nearby space, Cantha raised a wand and shone a thin pointer of light into the display. “What I’ve been trying to establish is a track of where Impris has been seen, and ultimately where we might expect to see her—or better yet, have a chance of breaking through to reach her.”

“Explain,” said the captain, the light of the holo playing over his frowning face.

Cantha moved the pointer-beam through the glowing display. “The ships that are out there shadowing Impris apparently pick up only intermittent ghost traces—so at best, even with the extra information you obtained, we have only bits and pieces of her course.”

“So what’s the good news?” said Glenswarg.

“I’ve been making new projections, based not just on Impris sightings, but on what we think we know of the structure of the underflux.” Cantha caused the holo to rotate in mid-air, then pointed out their current destination, not far from the Akeides Nebula. “Here’s where the most recent intelligence places Impris, based on KM/C’s movements.” He touched a handheld controller, and something changed in the display: previously unfocused details came into focus, as though they were peering deeper into a multidimensional display. “Now, observe these green lines.” He traced a series of spidery threads, through the newly focused region. “These are routes that I believe Impris could have followed in recent months.” He peered through the display at the others. “These are not paths through the known Flux, but projections into the underflux—possibly into the lowest layers, what you call the Deep Flux. These are projections only. It is a poorly mapped region, to say the least.”

Legroeder squinted, trying to visualize the elusive layer in which Impris might be trapped. Cantha’s lines zigzagged to the south and radially out on the galactic meridian—converging in one region before spreading out again in other directions. “What’s that area of convergence?” he asked—uneasily, because he thought he knew the answer. “Is that the Sargasso?”

“Indeed,” said Cantha, with a tone of satisfaction that gave Legroeder a shiver. The Narseil’s gaze pierced him for a moment, then shifted suddenly to Captain Glenswarg. “I believe, if we wish to catch up with Impris, the place to do it is in the Sargasso.”

Legroeder’s heart sank.

“That is,” Cantha continued, over the muttering of the Kyber crewmen, “if we don’t merely want to catch sight of her, but want to actually find her and rendezvous with her.” Cantha looked around the room, the display shining on his vertical amphibian eyes, to see if he’d gotten everyone’s attention.

Legroeder closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the protests of the others. The Sargasso: a dead zone, where the currents of the Flux dwindled to a stop. Who knew why? And who knew how many ships were stranded there right now—not in the strange, ghostly immortality of Impris, but just stranded in the motionless Flux, dying like animals caught in quicksand. If they went in with Phoenix, looking for Impris, what were their chances of coming out again?

Not good, he thought.

Except that Cantha was suggesting it. And he trusted Cantha’s opinion as much as he trusted his own rigging.

“I think, Narseil Cantha,” said the captain in a tight, flat voice, “that you have a great deal of explaining to do. Are you seriously recommending that we take this ship into the Sargasso?”

“Yes, Captain,” Cantha said. He pointed to the place where the green tracings converged, and altered the focus slowly to a higher level of the Flux, and then back down. The map changed in texture and color as he shifted the display. Cantha’s pointer-beam traced green paths through the layers. “Here is what I want you to see. I don’t know which of these paths Impris has followed—perhaps none of them precisely. But the important thing is that they come together, and rise very close to the level of the normal Flux—here in the Sargasso.” He peered through the display at the captain. “That’s the key. If we want to reach Impris, we have to break through into the level where she’s trapped. And the Sargasso is the only place I see to do it.”

“You’re out of your mind,” muttered a Kyber crewman. “Why the hell are we listening to this?” said another.

Christ Almighty, Legroeder thought, gazing into Cantha’s eyes. He felt despair.

“It could be a very dangerous course to take,” Deutsch rumbled, breaking through the grumbling.

“Yes,” said Glenswarg, commanding silence with an arch of his bristly eyebrows. “It sounds extremely dangerous.” He paused, allowing Cantha to continue.

“That is true,” Cantha said. “And that is why we need to talk about the underflux. And about the spatial flaws I believe may underlie it.”

“What spatial flaws?” growled a Kyber rigger.

Cantha placed his hands together, forefingers pointing into the holo. “The Flux, generally speaking, displays a fairly smooth progression of dimensionality as we move through descending layers. But, from layer to layer, we may encounter differing currents of movement—yes?” He glanced sharply at Derrek, the Kyber navigator, who shrugged.

“As you go deeper and deeper, you may reach a point where the movement slows too much; and if you’re using standard rigging techniques, you lose the ability to maneuver. Or, you simply come to a halt—like getting stuck in silt at the bottom of a river.”

“Like in the Sargasso,” Deutsch said.

“Almost.” Cantha raised a finger. “There’s a crucial difference. The Sargasso is a place where currents seem to lose their energy—but there it happens in the normal levels of the Flux, which is what makes it such a hazard. But why do the currents lose energy? Is it just a cancellation effect of converging currents? Or is it something more?”

Palagren’s neck-sail stiffened. “Cantha, are you sure you should tell them—?”

“Why not?” Cantha asked. “We’ve demanded that they share their knowledge with us.”

Palagren’s mouth tightened. “But this information—”

“Is essential to finding Impris. How else can we do it?”

Palagren’s eyes seemed filled with uncertainty; but finally he gestured acquiescence.

“So what’s the explanation?” Legroeder prompted.

Cantha hissed softly. “The Narseil Rigging Institute believes there are flaws—fractures, if you will—in the structure of spacetime in the Sargasso. We believe that currents may be leaking out of the normal layers of the Flux into a deeper substrate… into the underflux.” He gestured to Legroeder. “You’ve read the Fandrang Report. It talked about regions of high ‘EQ.’ We don’t use that terminology anymore—but this may be a related phenomenon.”

“These fractures—are you talking about openings that go all the way down into the Deep Flux?” Glenswarg asked, looking troubled.

“Possibly,” Cantha said. “We don’t know how deep they might go. In the Narseil understanding of the Deep Flux, there are layers far down in the underflux—” the holo shifted to a deeper level, and many of the star systems still visible as ghostly images seemed to draw closer together “—where extremely long routes in normal-space are shortened and compacted, but at the cost of becoming far more unpredictable.” The threads marking starship routes became blurred and wavering. “Too unpredictable, in our view, for safe travel.”

Cantha walked around the display, pointing here and there. “We can only guess at the details. But we have identified places where subsurface cusps or folds in the Flux may occur. Places where movement along hidden boundaries can result in abrupt transitions.” The display flickered with topographic shifts and folds as his pointer beam moved along the indistinct route-threads. “It may happen so abruptly that an unsuspecting crew might not know how to make the transition back.”

Legroeder blinked. “And you think this is what happened to Impris?”

Cantha steepled his long-fingered hands together. “Quite likely. I also believe this is how she can be found.”

Glenswarg cleared his throat. “And that’s why you’re asking me to risk this ship in the Sargasso?”

“It is a risk,” Cantha agreed. “But if these flaws exist, as we believe, in the Sargasso, then they could provide openings where we could break through into the underlying layers.”

Glenswarg waved his arm through the holo. “But Impris isn’t there. As far as we know, she’s up here.” He pointed to what was now the far corner of the display, at the point marking their present destination.

“Indeed,” Palagren said, stirring. “She was last seen up there. But that doesn’t mean we can reach her from there. Legroeder—when you encountered Impris seven years ago, did you have any sense that you could have physically reached her?”

“You mean, if we hadn’t been attacked?” Legroeder shook his head. “I don’t think so. We saw it, heard her riggers in the net… and then it faded, just as the attacking ship—” He shuddered, and allowed the inner hands of the implants to close off that memory for him.

“Exactly. It’s there, but it’s insubstantial… and then in a matter of seconds, it’s gone again. Cantha, can you show the folds more clearly?” As the display changed to highlight the features, Palagren traced with his hand along the irregularities in the Flux. “We suspect that Impris may have become trapped somehow inside one of these folds in the underflux. Trapped in a parallel channel—seemingly close to us, and yet isolated.” Palagren glanced around. “She does seem to move very quickly from one location to another.”

“So,” said Cantha, “we can look for Impris up here—” he rotated the image and highlighted their present destination “—under the nose of KM/C, where we won’t be able to reach her anyway. Or we can try to enter that fold down here—” he rotated it again, highlighting the Sargasso region “—where the pathways converge and there may be openings that will let us reach her from within the fold. Where, I might add, Kilo-Mike/Carlotta will see much less of what we’re doing.”

“Carlotta will love that when she finds out,” whispered a Kyber rigger.

He was silenced by a look from Glenswarg. The captain’s eyebrows looked like two caterpillars trying to merge. He scowled into the display. “It’s an interesting idea. But it’ll be dangerous as hell, won’t it?”

Cantha shrugged. “The Kyber are known for their courage, yes?”

Glenswarg’s scowl darkened even further. “These paths in the folds—are they fast moving?”

Cantha cleared his throat with a rumble. “If they are Deep Flux, they may be very fast. Or short. So if you’re asking, could we hope to make our way to her quickly once we’re in the fold—”

“Not just that,” said Glenswarg. “Are we going to be able to find our way out again?”

The Narseil hesitated.

“Impris couldn’t find her way out. What makes you think we’re different?”

The blood pounding in Legroeder’s ears competed with Palagren’s answer. “Impris probably didn’t know why she was trapped. We will. We’re going to have to look for a way in. Which means we’ll be noting exactly where and how we enter. That’ll make us better equipped to find our way out again.” Palagren turned to Legroeder, then the captain. “With your permission, we would perform some retuning of the rigger-net—to take maximum advantage of our versatility. Human, Kyber, Narseil. All together. That’s another advantage we have that Impris didn’t.”

Glenswarg rubbed his chin. “And assuming we make it out of this fold of yours, what about getting out of the Sargasso itself—once we’re back in the normal Flux?”

“The Sargasso has extremely slow and tricky movement,” said Palagren. “Not no movement. If we plan ahead and map with care, we should be able to manage. I won’t deceive you, though. There’s a degree of risk.”

“High risk, if you ask me,” said Navigator Derrek, leaning into the holo and craning his neck as though trying to extract more information from it.

Glenswarg turned to stare at Legroeder, who was responsible for the rigging decisions. Legroeder took a deep breath. “It has to be the Sargasso?” he asked the Narseil.

First Cantha, then Palagren nodded. “It’s the only place we see an opening,” Cantha said, unfolding his fingers in a humanlike palm-up gesture. “If we want to find Impris, that’s where we have to go.

Legroeder closed his eyes, asking the implants if they had any wisdom. They didn’t. He gazed at Glenswarg and sighed. “I’m afraid I must recommend, Captain, that we take this ship to the Sargasso.”

Glenswarg’s gaze bored into him, as though waiting to see if he would change his mind. When Legroeder held his gaze, the captain grunted and turned to his exec. “Prepare a message to the escort ships. And tell the bridge crew, we’re changing course.”

Chapter 28 Ghost Hunting

It was hard to be sure precisely when they entered the Sargasso, but soon enough the signs became unmistakable. The net softened around them like sails gone limp, as the currents of space slowed to a crawl. Legroeder gazed out at a tenuous skyscape of ocher clouds, and felt the image changing of its own accord to a vision of water. The mists flattened to become the foggy surface of a still sea, with a half-shrouded sun burning overhead.

Nothing moved. Even the water lapping at the side of the ship sounded like something caught in a time warp, the chuckling slap of listless waves drawn out into a croaking sound, like the monotonous drone of some primordial, throaty-voiced creature.

The riggers scanned in all directions. Legroeder half expected to see the cluttered flotsam of drifting ships; instead, what he saw was a profound and oppressive emptiness. It seemed to permeate not just the outward scene, but the mood inside the net, as well. All four riggers were silent, as though a single word might destroy the fragile magic that held it all together.

The Narseil had spent hours working with the Kyber crew, carefully retuning the flux reactor, adjusting the sensitivity of the net in painstaking increments. Palagren and Cantha were trying to make the net more responsive to emotional fluctuations among the riggers. That was easy; what was hard was to do it without losing the usual buffers against mood shifts. The other riggers, especially the Kyber who flew the alternate shifts, felt uneasy about the changes—and even Ker’sell seemed uncertain—but Legroeder and the captain had allowed Palagren and Cantha to try. They were convinced that, by heightening their sensitivity to fainter stirrings of the Flux, they could improve their maneuverability in the Sargasso. And Legroeder was very much in favor of being able to maneuver out of the Sargasso.

Right now, he couldn’t see much except the stillness. He found himself thinking of Com’peer, the Narseil surgeon, quoting from the book of Psalms. How had one of them gone? He leads me beside the still waters… Yes, Legroeder thought. Still waters, indeed.

An unfamiliar inner voice offered a comment:

// The quote refers to “safe” waters, actually. Are these waters safe? //

(I doubt that,) Legroeder muttered. (Who are you? Do I know you?)

// I am an analytical subroutine. My exegetical database includes many of the known galaxy’s religions. //

(Oh. Well, what do you analyze about this place?)

// Difficult to know… // said the implant.

(Yah.)

// But I am working on it. //

As are we all, Legroeder thought. But perhaps the implant was right about one thing: it would be very helpful to keep in mind an image of these waters as safe—particularly since the net was far more sensitive now to fear or anxiety. But they were also looking for evidence of any opening in the underflux, any opening through which a ship might pass into a hidden fold—a ship such as Impris. Or Phoenix. Legroeder wondered where their escort ships were by now. They had been unable to make contact; and though Phoenix had transmitted their intentions, they had no way of knowing if the escort had received the message.

Legroeder watched his crew watching the Flux. While commanding the rigger crew, Legroeder occupied his customary stern position, with Palagren at the bow and Ker’sell at top gun. Deutsch, at the keel, seemed intent on something. Freem’n. What are you picking up?

Deutsch didn’t answer at once. He seemed to be processing through his augments. Finally: Nothing that I can describe clearly. For a moment, I thought I’d sensed some ghost traces… I don’t know of what. Like shadows. Maybe echoes from the underflux. Not clear. Deutsch fell back into silence, but he seemed more emotionally connected to the imagery than usual.

Legroeder, for his part, felt a strange, listless foreboding, as if he were floating under a tropical sun, awaiting the arrival of some vaguely defined enemy. So far, though, he’d seen nothing; he found it hard even to focus on the features of the Flux. The ship was drifting sideways, very slowly. The only visible features on the sea were the fog banks, and if you watched them carefully you could see that they too were shifting with dreamy slowness, as if stirred by convection currents rising from the still surface of the water.

Turning to watch Palagren and Ker’sell, he noted their unstirring poses. He did not interrupt them; they were stretching out through the tessa’chron, probing as far into the future as their senses would allow, seeking any whorls or eddies in the flow of time, anything that might suggest the presence of a change or a flaw in the local fabric of spacetime. So far, they’d seen nothing suggestive of the entry point they were looking for. The net sang like a charged high-tension wire as Palagren came to and peered back at Legroeder.

I’d like to retune further, Palagren said. I think we need more sensitivity.

Legroeder frowned. The net was already a roomful of suppressed emotions waiting to erupt. With increased output from the flux reactor, they would shift even further into an experimental operating regime. He wasn’t sure how much more he wanted to experiment. Cantha? Agamem? he called to the bridge. Are you picking up anything useful?

From the bridge, the two Narseil replied in the negative. No movement visible, Cantha said. Not much energy gradient of any kind.

If they wanted to be able to maneuver, they had to do better. Legroeder glanced at the ethereal vision of Palagren, waiting at the front of the net for an answer, then called to Deutsch. Freem’n, will it interrupt your AI scans if we increase the sensitivity further?

I don’t think so.

Was that a trace of nervousness in Deutsch’s voice? Well, they were all nervous. All right, Palagren, let’s go ahead.

Commencing now, replied the Narseil.

Legroeder felt a momentary tingle, followed by a heightened awareness of… what? His heartbeat, pulsing in his ears? Light and shadow, boredom and fear?

It seemed to fluctuate through a variety of responses, as Palagren made cautious adjustments—backing off here, enhancing there. Legroeder’s implants flickered, joining in a circle with the others’, as Palagren gauged the new settings. Legroeder became aware of a smell of the sea that he hadn’t noticed before, of brine and seaweed. Everyone okay with this? he asked softly.

As the others agreed, he disengaged his augments from the circle. The others could use their augments for flying, but he was going to stick with his human senses. Begin cycling the images.

The plan was to try a variety of image types, in hopes of revealing patterns or movement beneath the surface. If the patterns were there, they might well manifest as different images for different individuals.

The first was an undersea vision: a clear and still place, with sunlight slanting down through the water as far as the eye could see. Far off, Legroeder saw floating tufts of seaweed and detritus—perhaps areas of altered density, or mass concentrations in nearby normal-space.

Legroeder was surprised to feel a profound sadness welling up in him for no apparent reason, a feeling of indescribable loss. His thoughts flickered to Tracy-Ace, and he felt himself on the verge of tears. Would he ever see her again? Had she deceived him to get him on this mission? Was he on a fool’s errand? No… he remembered the intimacy of their joining, and refused to believe that it was false.

He drew a sharp breath, startled by the power of the emotion. Good Lord. Glancing around, he realized that everyone in the net seemed preoccupied. Palagren appeared wistful and distracted; Deutsch was concentrating fiercely on the Flux beneath him. Only Ker’sell showed any awareness of Legroeder, and he was staring down at the human with apparent suspicion. Legroeder looked away, hoping he had not let actual images of Tracy-Ace into the net.

Focus outward, he thought. We’re here to fly, not gaze at our navels.

The silence was interrupted by: This is Cantha. Nothing visible on instruments out here.

Nothing here, Deutsch said.

Nothing, said Legroeder.

Ker’sell didn’t answer.

Palagren changed the image again.

The crystal clarity of the seascape closed in, and Phoenix was transformed to an aircraft flying straight and level through solid cloud; the forward motion, of course, was purely an illusion. Legroeder felt his feelings changing with the image. At first he was oppressed by the clouds, but that gave way to a sense of freedom and exhilaration. Not everyone in the net shared the feeling, however. Palagren was focused deeply, as though pondering a mystery. Deutsch’s mood was inscrutable. Ker’sell was snapping his gaze around with angry energy.

Before Legroeder could learn what was bothering Ker’sell, the Narseil changed the image—as though he could not bear the clouds any longer. Dark forms loomed in the fog, then faded back, like dream-shapes. What were those—something they needed to see? Too late: the fog dissipated and the surroundings changed to night. Now they were floating in a glass bubble over a dark, featureless plain.

Featureless plain like the featureless sea.

But was it? Legroeder sensed that something was building beneath the surface. The plain below was not altogether still and motionless; it was smoldering with sulfurous fire. Once he realized that, the fire seemed to spread. In just a few heartbeats, the plain was sprinkled with burning pools of sulfur, reddish orange, like a collection of portals into Hell. Legroeder’s pulse quickened. What do you all see down there? he whispered.

Looks pretty featureless to me, said Deutsch.

Also to me, murmured Palagren.

Was he the only one who saw the fire? Legroeder glanced up at Ker’sell, and knew the answer. The Narseil was staring down from the top gun position, not at the landscape, but at Legroeder. Those weren’t portals down there; that was Ker’sell’s anger. Flickers of fire, of suspicion and rage.

Legroeder spoke softly to Ker’sell. What is it? What’s bothering you?

What’s to tell? Ker’sell’s eyes seemed to say. The Narseil was eaten up by distrust of Legroeder, but he wasn’t going to speak it aloud.

If you think I betrayed you, I did not. Legroeder was surprised by his own calm, in contrast to the smoldering sulfur. I see your anger down there. That’s you, not the Flux, isn’t it?

Ker’sell didn’t answer, but Palagren glanced back at Legroeder in surprise. Palagren clearly didn’t know what Legroeder was seeing, but he also seemed to be struggling with something else. Self doubt? Uncertainty about whether he could fulfill his promise to bring them through this place? Is everything all right with you two? Palagren asked. Then he grunted, as if he suddenly understood.

Perhaps he was glimpsing a moment or two into the future, because Ker’sell suddenly hissed to Legroeder, You work with the enemy, you make friends with them. Do you make love to them, too?

Legroeder was speechless. He had to grope for words to reply. I did not betray you. I did my job. What would we have learned about Impris if we had not come here with this crew?

Something in the Narseil’s eyes brightened and then went dark, and Legroeder couldn’t gauge the effect of his words. But below the ship the image suddenly changed again—the seething landscape dissolving to reveal something moving beneath it, a shadow under the molten surface.

Wait! Legroeder cried, as the image began to fade away. Did you see that?

The others looked, but whatever he had seen was gone now, and the sulfur with it. Perhaps it was just a reflection of all the disturbances in the net.

He shook his head as the images continued to evolve. They were high above ground in night flight, a weblike array of thousands of tiny nodes of liquid light sprawled out on the surface below. The array seemed to loom out of an infinity of darkness, as though they might fall down through the spaces between the threads, into some other universe altogether. This reminds me of our homeworld, Palagren said suddenly, with wistful longing in his voice. From Ker’sell, there was an even stronger reaction. He seemed to be struggling with a desire to break out of the net, to dive into that world and leave all of them behind.

A heartbeat later, a similar homesickness hit Legroeder, as if his own homeworld might be hidden somewhere below.

Something’s there. I feel it, Deutsch said quietly from the keel position. For a moment, Legroeder could not identify the emotion disguised by Deutsch’s metallic voice. And then he had it: fear.

Why fear?

What do you see, Freem’n?

Not sure. Not sure.

Legroeder peered, but could see nothing to be afraid of. What does it look like? I don’t see anything at all.

Not sure. Shadows. Just a glimpse of something. Gone now, said Deutsch. His voice reverberated with increasing fear.

I felt it, too, said Palagren. A presence. I don’t know what. He seemed to be catching some of Deutsch’s fear, overlaid with a deep and troubling need. Do we dare go closer?

Deutsch tensed perceptibly at the suggestion.

Let’s be careful here, said Legroeder. What do we hope to find?

Movement, Palagren said. If there is movement…

Then we shouldn’t turn away from it, Legroeder thought. But that doesn’t mean we should plunge right in, either. All right, he said. But cautiously.

It felt as if the image simply swelled up to engulf him. It was dark and mysterious, drawing him into something beautiful and exciting…

With a rush of memory, he felt himself becoming aroused as the shadows resolved into a powerful image of Tracy-Ace/Alfa, unclothed, reaching out, open to him at her center, eyes filled with inexpressible longing. Legroeder fell toward the image with a muted groan, unable to resist the hunger…

What’s this? Ker’sell hissed, wheeling around to glare at him.

With a jerk of recognition, Legroeder tried to veer away from the thought; this was the last thing he wanted any of the others in the net to see. He strove to banish it, but Tracy-Ace was moving toward him, fingers closing around his shoulder blades, mouth closing on his…

Exactly as I thought! Ker’sell hissed, his anger flaring in the net like a pale, crackling flame.

No—it’s not—! Legroeder protested as he struggled to change the image. Did Palagren and Deutsch see it, too? (Help me!) he whispered to the implants.

// Initiating change, // they answered, and began a swift reweaving of the image.

Tracy-Ace was transformed in an eyeblink into another woman…

(Not you!) he whispered, as the beautiful, raven-haired pirate from DeNoble beckoned to him, augments flickering with sinister delight. (Christ, not Greta!)

// Changing again… //

(Just help me wipe it—!)

There was a flicker, and the image changed abruptly. The female form turned into a luminous wire figure and spun away from him, moving out across the darkness with a final sparkle. Legroeder gasped in relief.

I’m not sure I understand what’s happening here, Palagren said slowly, as though rousing himself from a daze.

Ker’sell was still hissing, but his outrage seemed to ebb as he was distracted by changes in the scene below. The spiderweb pattern of lighted cities was turning into a cyber-landscape of cyan and crimson webbing suspended over black, illuminated from within by speeding pulses of sapphire and orange. They were dropping toward it as though moving through an intelnet. We must not fly through this! Ker’sell cried.

Legroeder reacted with annoyance. Why not? Does anyone else see a problem?

Not here, said Deutsch.

Palagren glanced backward, gesturing in the negative.

Then what was Ker’sell alarmed at?

(What do you see?) Legroeder asked his augments.

// Analyzing… the activity below is very regular and rhythmic, as if all activities balance other activities. No net gain… //

Activity in the Sargasso… balancing and canceling…?

(Can you filter it, let me see the component movements?)

// Attempting… //

The augment matrix began to blur through its analyzing and filtering routines. At the same time, he felt the image begin to shift; one of the other riggers was changing it. Leave it a moment!

It’s making me dizzy, Ker’sell complained, continuing to change the image.

Legroeder reached to stop him. Why are you afraid? I need to know what’s happening. Then, a little too sternly: I’m in command here! Freem’n, help me!

Deutsch reacted in some unseen way, meshing his augmentation with the Kyber net to block the change.

No! Ker’sell protested. We can’t!

What are you afraid of? Legroeder shouted, his annoyance growing. Don’t keep trying to change it! Tell me!

The Narseil’s fear was palpable, radiating throughout the net. There are things down there—things out of time—past, future—all mixed up! I can’t see…

What things? Legroeder tried to probe the image, but it was all entangled with the Narseil’s fear. You’ve got to—

NO! Cracks in time! Splinters! Things moving—!

Ker’sell, said Palagren suddenly. Pull out of the tessa’chron! You’re losing objectivity!

Instead of answering, Ker’sell made a desperate attempt to bypass Deutsch’s blocks. The net quaked from his efforts.

This was becoming dangerous. You are relieved! Legroeder commanded. Ker’sell—leave the net.

What—? squawked the Narseil.

Get out of the net! At once!

For an instant, no one moved. Then Palagren said to his fellow Narseil, Follow his instructions.

Ker’sell abruptly vanished from the net.

Legroeder’s heart was pounding. He tried to concentrate on the landscape below, the virtual cyberimage of a world. All right. He gulped. Let’s all calm down. He took three deep breaths, focusing on the flickering movements. Palagren—get on the com and talk to Ker’sell. Find out what he saw, why he was so alarmed.

As Palagren obeyed, Cantha called from the bridge. We’re picking up a lot of strange quantum effects. I can’t quite follow it. And Ker’sell is quite upset. Captain wants to know, are things under control?

Legroeder was breathlessly trying to assess that very question. What had Ker’sell seen that the others could not? Was he just hallucinating, or were there really—?

Legroeder’s heart nearly stopped as he saw a shape begin to form among the threads of light below. What was that—and why did he feel alarmed by it, even before he knew what it was?

Legroeder, are you doing something? Deutsch asked worriedly.

Not intentionally. I’ve got my implants trying to sort out energy flows that are canceling each other…

Well, yeah—so am I, Deutsch said. But I’m not getting anywh—

His words broke off as the new image suddenly came to life. An enormous, spiderlike thing rose up out of the crisscrossing threads of light. Its body was an illuminated shape of transparent glass. It was moving across the landscape with a slow, undulating movement. Streaming out from it were faint wavelets in the Flux, moving backward like the wake of a boat.

What is that? Palagren whispered in fascination. Is it alive?

Legroeder shrugged, watching it with a creeping horror. He struggled to control his emotions; he didn’t know where they were coming from. Look at the wake moving back from it. Is that canceling its energy?

Let’s find out, Deutsch said darkly, as if disapproving of this strange manifestation.

Legroeder nodded uneasily. Was he wrong to have sent Ker’sell away? Had Ker’sell been the first to see a real danger? Palagren was beginning to steer the ship away from the spider thing. Wait, Palagren. I think we need to investigate this, Legroeder said, feeling afraid even as he said it.

If we could probe the thing’s wake, Deutsch muttered. He seemed charged with a dark kind of excitement. If we could reach down… As he spoke, he stretched a long arm down from the keel of the ship, trolling it in the wavelets far below.

The ship suddenly began to descend.

Alarmed, Legroeder said, That may not be a good idea. Pull your arm out.

I can’t!

Look, Palagren said. The spider thing had turned and begun to stretch out toward them, as though it were a living thing. The wake streaming out from it was becoming more energetic.

Do you hear that? Palagren asked.

Legroeder’s heart was pounding. What?

Voices. Below us.

Legroeder strained. At first, nothing; but as the glassy spider loomed toward them, he felt a sudden shiver. Something was happening to the spider; it was melting into a ghostly haze of light. Faces were forming in the haze, faces of light. Human, or nearly human, faces. Ghost faces…

That’s what I heard. Their voices, Palagren whispered.

Legroeder’s stomach knotted. The ghostly faces, drawn thin as though with desolation and anguish, were peering up at him, rising from the auroral glow to meet the ship. Were they images from his subconscious, or from Deutsch’s?

The voices grew louder. Cries, and groans of distress.

Jesu, Legroeder whispered. He felt from Deutsch a horror like his own. They were only images, weren’t they? But why here, why now?

Something strange is happening in the tessa’chron, Palagren whispered. It’s slipping away from me…

The ghosts veered away just before reaching the ship. Their passage sent shock waves through the net.

What the hell was going on? Legroeder tried to focus…

His implants spoke. // Freem’n is remembering… we glimpsed it in his matrix… faces of death. //

Faces of death? But from where?

More ghost-faces rose on shimmering waves. One flew so close its cry sent a poker through Legroeder’s heart. He thought he recognized the voice. But how could that—? Freem’n! Was it Deutsch’s memory of people he had watched die on starships, victims of piracy? Freem’n!

Legroeder, are you all right?

That was Palagren, nearly drowned out by the wail of the specters whirling around the ship.

Legroeder?

I’m not… sure, he whispered. Holy MOTHER OF—

HEL-L-L-P US-S-S! cried a spirit flashing past. For an instant Legroeder saw a young man’s rictus-face pressed against the net like a window pane. It was no one he knew; yet he was overwhelmed by a sense that he had met this man before.

HEL-L-L-P US-S-S… !

The ghost veered away, and as Legroeder and Deutsch flinched, the ship rocked dangerously. Fly the ship, Legroeder thought desperately; but he couldn’t control his fear. Palagren was trying to compensate. Ker’sell—come back into the net! We need you! the Narseil called into the com.

Another ghost hissed by. Palagren seemed utterly unaffected. As his fellow Narseil returned to the net, he reported, Legroeder and Freem’n are seeing something I’m not—some sort of third-ring entities. They’re losing control. You and I need to steer! He was working urgently to level the ship, oblivious to the ghosts about his head.

// We’ve identified the voice, // murmured an implant in Legroeder’s head. // It’s from your memories of the Impris encounter. You heard the crew calling out to you on the L.A.—and at least one of those voices is the same. //

Impris! Legroeder whispered aloud.

Yes? said Palagren. If these are real voices and not just your memories, we must follow them. They may be showing us the way.

Or, Legroeder thought desperately, it may be my subconscious taking us through some delirious hallucination.

Captain Glenswarg wants to know what the hell we’re doing, Ker’sell said as he helped Palagren fly. He appeared to have shaken off whatever was alarming him; like Palagren, he was calm as ice now. What shall we tell him?

That we’re onto something important and we need to see it through, Palagren said. With your permission, Legroeder—?

Legroeder struggled. Palagren was right; he had to overcome his fear. He finally grunted, Permission granted, and watched with dread as Palagren and Ker’sell steered them toward the waves of light from which the ghosts had emerged. The place that had once been a spider was now boiling and curling over with waves of light, ghosts whirling and diving through the curls. The ship wallowed like an overloaded airplane, dropping toward it. You aren’t intending to go through! Legroeder whispered. I’m supposed to be in control; I’m supposed to be in control…

This is amazing! said Palagren. I see glimpses forward and backward, as if time has flowered into beautiful petals. And Legroeder! I see the entities emerging. Some of them are from you and Freem’n—but some are not. Some are from down below, from the underflux! Legroeder, these voices came through that opening. We must go!

All right, Legroeder managed, praying he was not condemning them to Impris’s fate. Take us down! And to his implants: (Map everything!)

Palagren banked the ship into a dive.

The waves grew, until the curling crests turned into coiling tunnels of darkness, lit by the glow of flying spirits. Legroeder held his breath, as the ship flew into one of the cresting wave tunnels, along with half a dozen of the faces.

Deutsch cried out in terror.

Legroeder, suppressing his own fear, felt a surge of unreasoning hope. It’s all right, he gasped, as the starship plunged through the spectral glow after the whirling ghosts.

The passage seemed to take a long time, and no time at all. The tunnel blossomed open to reveal bright, golden-orange clouds: the clouds of the underflux, he felt certain. He didn’t know why, but his fears had begun to melt away.

What is this? Palagren cried.

Legroeder blinked, then saw what Palagren meant—a great, clear orb floating toward them. The ghostly faces were gathering near the orb, their voices fading to a monotonous buzz. One after another, like bees, they plunged into the orb and vanished.

Legroeder’s heart was still thundering in his chest, but he forced himself to focus as the ship drifted toward the shimmering sphere. He realized now what it was.

It was a giant raindrop.

And through the raindrop, magnified and distorted as though through an ethereal telescope, he saw something that took his breath away.

A starship, long and silver.

Impris.

Chapter 29 The Flying Dutchman

For a moment, no one stirred. They all saw it, through the raindrop: the spaceship, like an insect caught in amber. Legroeder’s pulse raced. He shifted his vantage point from one side of the net to the other, trying to get a clear view of the length of the starship. I guess the only way to reach it is to go through, he murmured, as much to himself as to the others.

The Narseil peered through the raindrop with expressions of wonderment. But at the keel position, Deutsch was quaking in terror. You can’t! It’s a graveyard ship! Let it rest in peace!

Legroeder looked down toward the keel. What is it, Freem’n? What’s wrong?

Deutsch shuddered wordlessly.

Legroeder searched for the source of Freem’n’s terror. What did Deutsch see that he didn’t? He spoke to his own implants. (Can you connect me to Freem’n’s augments? Without exposing me to whatever he’s going through?)

// Attempting… //

Palagren called out at that moment, I was wrong. Those are not third-ring entities! They are as alive as we are!

They’re coming from Impris, Legroeder said. I know those voices.

No! cried Deutsch. They’re not alive!

// We have a connection, // reported the implants.

Legroeder followed the augment prompts. It was like peering through a telescope, glimpsing what Deutsch saw. Legroeder was astounded by the difference in the view. Deutsch was staring through the raindrop at a broken hull, filled with lifeless bodies. And ghosts, twirling in and out of view.

(This is insane. Why is he seeing this?)

// Unsure… //

(Is he viewing it through his augmentation?)

// Yes. //

Damn. Legroeder called out to his companions, Listen, everyone! We’re not all seeing the same image. Freem’n, can you change your view?

No! Deutsch cried in anguish.

Legroeder spoke to his implants. (Do you still have that connection—?)

Before he could finish the question, he was suddenly gazing across a dark gulf—at Deutsch on a lighted stage, crouched down in terror. He called across to the stage. (Freem’n! Disconnect from your augments!)

(I can-n-n’t!) Deutsch wailed.

Legroeder thought he knew what was happening. It was the damned raider augments, programmed to instill terror. (Freem’n, your augments are distorting your view of the Flux! You’ve got to disconnect!)

// Try showing him this… //

Legroeder’s implants displayed his view of Impris, its net still active, an automated distress beacon flashing a monotonous plea for assistance. Then a translucent overlay slid across the image… and it was transmogrified into a ghost ship full of corpses and tormented spirits.

// This is what he’s seeing. //

(Yes! Freem’n!) Legroeder called. (Look at this!) Legroeder’s augments flashed the living-ship image above the stage, where Deutsch could see it.

For a moment, Deutsch seemed dazed. (What are you saying—this isn’t—)

(It is, Freem’n! Look with your own eyes!)

(I don’t have eyes of my own. Don’t you understand? Without my augments, I’m blind!)

(Then find the ones that are doing this, and turn those off. They’re programmed to make you afraid!) Could he do it? Legroeder wondered. Or had he been living with the implants too long?

(I don’t dare. They’ll come, they’ll kill me…)

(Who will, Freem’n? Who will come and kill you?)

(They… will. I can’t…)

(Won’t the augments let you?)

Deutsch was stammering now. (It’s not—not that. They’ll come, I tell you.)

(Who, Freem’n? The ghosts?)

(Yes! YES!)

(NO,) Legroeder said with difficulty. (They won’t. Freem’n, can you trust me on this? Do… you… trust… me?) Dear God, were Deutsch’s implants under Glenswarg’s control? They weren’t supposed to be. But what if the controls were malfunctioning?

Legroeder, what’s going on? Palagren asked, his voice intruding on the inner connection. We need to decide what to do. Our position isn’t stable. If we’re going to pass through that bubble, we should go!

Legroeder tried to control the pounding of his heart. Yes. Yes, I know. I have to work this out with Freem’n. He gulped another breath. (Freem’n, listen to me. You may be having an augment malfunction. You’ve GOT to check it.)

Deutsch stared at him from across the stage, as if trying to comprehend what Legroeder was saying.

(I’m… afraid.)

(I know you are. You’ve got to trust me. Do you trust me?)

(I… I’ll try.) A terrible tension filled the augment connection.

Then Legroeder’s implants said softly, // He has control of his augments. //

The Deutsch on the stage rose partway from his crouch and reached up to a large control panel. He fingered the switches hesitantly, before turning one off… then back on. There was no effect on the Flux image. (It’s not helping,) he whispered.

(Don’t stop! Try the rest.)

He continued flicking the switches off, then back on, one at a time. None seemed to have much effect, except in color and clarity and sound. He moved to the second row of switches, his hand shaking. OFF. The image changed abruptly. The bodies were gone. The terror was gone. Through the raindrop floated a living ship.

He flicked it back on.

The ghost ship loomed, spirits crying out.

OFF. The terror vanished.

(I’ll be God damned,) he breathed. He looked across the stage at Legroeder. (How did you know?)

(Later,) Legroeder sighed, as the stage darkened and vanished. Back in the normal net view, he saw the Narseil waiting at their stations with a strange mix of patience and agitation. They reminded him of horses stamping restlessly, breath steaming. Through the raindrop, the other ship was beginning to drift out of his view. Palagren was right; they were going to lose it if they didn’t hurry. We have to go through, Legroeder said. And quickly. Are we agreed?

The Narseil agreed with almost unnerving speed. Deutsch was still nervous, but didn’t object. Palagren, Legroeder said. What are our chances of finding our way back out?

Palagren’s hesitation sent a chill through his blood. We can’t be sure until we’re on the other side, can we?

Legroeder cursed, as the other ship drifted a little further to the side.

A com-window opened from the bridge, and Glenswarg called, Riggers, report! That looks like a ship in our monitors. Is that Impris?

Legroeder’s heart was in his throat. Yes, Captain. We believe it is. She appears to be in a separate fold in the underflux. But we believe we can… reach her. His voice caught. Request… permission… to make a final transition to the next layer of the underflux. Sir.

The captain’s voice was sharp. Final transition! Are you telling me we’re already in the underflux? When did we cross over?

We—just a few minutes ago, Captain. It was an… extremely hectic moment. Too hectic to communicate with the bridge? he could hear the captain thinking. Captain, I’m afraid we had a tiger by the tail, and there was really no chance to explain.

Glenswarg sounded as if he was torn between fury and disbelief. You mean you took it upon yourselves to risk this ship—? Hold on. Seconds passed, and the riggers in the net looked at each other and looked at Impris, slowly sliding away. Legroeder forced himself to breathe slowly, wondering what he would do if Glenswarg said no.

The com came to life again. Cantha has shown me where we are and what you’ve done. Or what he thinks you’ve done. What he can’t tell me is what our chances are of getting out the way we came in.

Legroeder blinked. Only a third of Impris was visible now. Captain, we’re doing everything we can to chart our course in. It took our combined efforts to find this entry point. But we did find it, so we have that over the Impris crew. But I can’t tell you it’s a sure thing. Legroeder peered at Palagren, who shook his neck-sail: nothing to add.

How soon do we have to go through? We’re losing the view of the ship out here.

Legroeder felt flushed with urgency. You’re seeing what we’re seeing, Captain. It may be now or never. We think it’s worth the risk.

Goddamn alien riggers, he imagined the captain thinking. But Glenswarg surprised him. Proceed, then. Permission given.

Permission to proceed, Legroeder echoed, then called to the others, Let’s go before we lose her.

Palagren reached far out from the bow of the ship and touched the shimmering surface of the raindrop. It quivered as his hand went through. It was no longer possible to see Impris.

All together now, Legroeder whispered. There was very little movement of the ship, and the surface tension of the raindrop was just strong enough to resist even that motion. If we can all just relax and let it pull us through… His heart was pounding. (Help me relax…)

The implants gave him a soothing chant… and he breathed deeply and felt himself calming…

And the ship began to ease forward into the drop of water. The raindrop dimpled inward, stretching for a dozen heartbeats. Then, with a sudden release, the drop shimmered open and flashed closed around them. For a whirling moment, Legroeder had a dizzy sensation of time and space being stretched and twisted and folded in some utterly incomprehensible manner. He felt the ship speeding and somehow blurring… and yet seemingly not moving at all. And then suddenly all of those feelings drained away, and he was floating in a warm, clear sea. It looked like the Sargasso they had just left, but glowing a deep, enveloping cyan.

Some distance off their port bow floated a ship, long and silver, like a dolphin frozen in the act of leaping.

There she is! Deutsch breathed.

Impris, Palagren said, his voice laced with wonder.

Ker’sell was dumb with amazement.

As Legroeder tried to find his voice, a call came from the bridge. We’ve got it on the screen here! Cantha called excitedly. We somehow bridged a dozen light-years to Impris. I’m analyzing now. We had a big spike in the quantum wave flux readings.

Before Legroeder could answer, Captain Glenswarg’s voice cut in. Can you bring us alongside?

Attempting to do so now, Legroeder answered. But there’s almost no moving current. It’s going to be tricky.

Use extreme care, Glenswarg said, quite unnecessarily.

For a while, they hardly managed to move at all. The Phoenix net simply could find no purchase in the Flux. While they were preoccupied trying, Legroeder was startled by a small voice calling:

Ahoy there! Ahoy, ship!

Legroeder looked up.

It was not one voice but several—distant, haunting, echoing across the still, silent surface of the sea. Legroeder scarcely dared breathe. Did you all hear that? he asked his companions.

I heard it. It sounded human, said Palagren.

Human, yes. Legroeder peered across the empty sea between the ships. Impris! he called. Can you hear me?

The response was distorted, as if from over-amplification. Finally Legroeder made out the words, —hear you! We hear you!

Legroeder called back, This is Phoenix, Impris. Please stand by! He reported to Glenswarg: We have contact, Captain, we have voice contact. After all these years, the Impris crew was still alive! His heart raced with excitement. Now, if they could just find a way to bring the ships together.

Palagren, let’s trade positions. I’d like to try something at the bow. The Narseil rigger acknowledged, and blinked instantaneously to the stern, while Legroeder blinked to the bow. Legroeder drew a breath, settling into position. Testing the flexibility of the bow net, he began to stretch forward from the bow, out into the stillness of the Flux. Let’s see how far I can reach…

Hold on, Deutsch said, making an adjustment in the net. A moment later, Legroeder found himself stretched out as though on a tremendously long bowsprit. He managed to reach about a tenth of the way to the other ship before it began to feel unstable.

May I try? asked Deutsch, as Legroeder drew himself back in. My augments might prove useful here.

Legroeder frowned at the thought of Deutsch’s augments, but perhaps Freem’n was right. All right. Do you want to switch positions?

Deutsch shook his head. Right here is fine. From the keel position, beneath the bowsprit, he stretched a long arm—a ridiculously exaggerated version of his mechanical telescoping arm—out over the sea toward the marooned starship.

Legroeder shouted from the bow: Impris—we are trying to reach you! Can you stretch your net out farther?

There was an indistinct return shout from Impris. Deutsch continued telescoping his arm—and the net, with his tuning, stretched out like a slow-motion sunbeam. On Impris, after a moment, Legroeder saw a tiny flash of gold light, then a halo growing around the ship’s bow. Three tiny shadows moved in the glowing halo: human figures.

Legroeder felt a rush of hope, as the figures grew in size. Eventually he began to make out their faces across the distance. He became aware that Deutsch was having a difficult moment as the faces became more distinct; they were the same faces Legroeder and Deutsch had seen earlier as ghost images. Legroeder murmured reassuringly to his friend: It was their faces we saw, Freem’n—live men, not dead men.

Deutsch grunted acknowledgment. See if you can get them to do what I’m doing, he said.

Legroeder called out again to the Impris riggers. He had a sudden, eerie vision of being adrift on a life raft, trying to reach out and lock hands with survivors on another raft.

Even as he thought it, the net changed to reflect the image; and across the water, seconds later, he could see the Impris riggers reaching out shadowy hands. Deutsch’s long reach lengthened even further. But the ships were just too far apart, and in the end they pulled back, frustrated.

Legroeder glanced back at the Narseil. Any ideas?

Well, I wouldn’t want to try the long-range grapplers, not without knowing how they’d behave in this underflux fold, Palagren said. It’s unfortunate we can’t just throw them a line.

That’s it! Deutsch rasped.

Legroeder peered down at him.

Excuse me? said Ker’sell, with an edge of puzzlement. At least he no longer sounded hostile; the appearance of Impris seemed to have allayed his suspicions.

We’ll throw them a line! Deutsch explained. If we focus together… As he spoke he crafted the image: a huge coil of line to be hurled out over the water. It would be net-stuff, of course, just a way of coaxing the net into stretching out beyond its ordinary limits. We’ll have to do this together. On the count of three.

The four riggers jostled for position to exert their influence on the image. Finally four arms held the coil of line together. They swung it forward and backward.

One… two… THREE!

Their release was uncoordinated, and the coil tumbled away and sank like a stone.

Deutsch pulled it back in, zzzzzip. Try it again. Focus, people. Timing is everything.

He counted to three. This time Ker’sell held on an instant too long, and the coil flew up over their heads. Deutsch brought it back for a third attempt.

A voice broke into the net: What are you doing in there? Are we getting any closer? The coil vanished, the image broken.

Legroeder explained to the captain.

Can you do this without damaging the net? Glenswarg asked.

We’ll have to watch the stresses if we do make contact. But right now we see no other way.

Glenswarg’s reluctance was palpable. Very well, since we can’t seem to raise their captain on the flux-com. Is there anything you need us to do here?

No, we just need to concentrate. With your permission… Freem’n? One more time?

Deutsch recreated the coil.

After two more tries, they finally came together on the rhythm and direction. The coil sailed out toward the glittering net of the other starship. Catch it! Legroeder shouted.

The shadow figures in the other ship’s net moved and shifted, and stretched their own net…

And missed.

Two more failures followed. And then, at last, the shadows in the other net moved together, and caught it.

The line snapped taut. The sudden strain in Phoenix’s net left them all gasping. The net was stretched out like a nylon stocking with a boulder in its toe.

As they struggled, a voice reverberated down the net. Are you guys for real-l-l?

Startled, Legroeder sharpened the focus. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of two, no three, faces peering back through the net at him. Hello, Impris, he called. We’re Phoenix. We’ve been looking for you. What is your condition?

Our condition? said a different Impris voice, this one tinged with hysteria.

The first voice: We’re stranded!

I know. We’ve been—

Are you stranded, too? cried the Impris rigger.

No, we’re—Legroeder hesitated—the rescue party.

RESCUE? There was stunned silence in the joined nets. Do you know how to get us out of—

It’s impossible! interrupted the second voice. We’ve been here forever!

You’ve been here for a very long time, Legroeder said. But we’re hoping to help you. We need to bring our ships together. If we can draw both of our nets in VERY GRADUALLY, we might be able to do it.

The Impris rigger acknowledged. There was a sudden jerk on the net.

EASE OFF! Legroeder shouted.

The pressure eased.

Legroeder glanced back at his alarmed rigger-mates, and together they began to draw the net in slowly. Deutsch soon got on the com to the bridge, asking for as much power to the net as the flux-reactor could give them. The effort was difficult and unnerving. What would happen if they overstrained the net?

Behind him, the Narseil worked with dark, silent determination. As the riggers hauled in the line, like sailors on some ancient sailing ship pulling with their backs, the two ships drew slowly, almost imperceptibly, closer together.

On the bridge of starship Impris, Captain Noel Friedman stood with his hands on his hips, glaring from one control station to another. A strange, slow-motion pandemonium seemed to have taken hold of his crew—and truthfully, he wasn’t in much better shape himself. A glance at his own reflection had shown a white-haired man, wild-eyed and unkempt, scarcely a man Friedman would have wanted to trust with his ship. When the summons to the bridge had echoed through the ship, he had been jarred out of a dazed stalk through the corridors. How long had he been doing that? And how long had his bridge crew looked like escapees from an asylum?

Tiegs, the sanest of the bunch, had been on duty for most of this eternity as rigger-com; he was darting urgently back and forth among the com-console and the various bridge officers. Johnson, the navigator, was running around shouting like an evangelist that rescue was at hand. Gort and Fenzy, on systems, looked like two old drunks trying to decipher whether or not it was all a hallucination. The rest of them looked as though they were dreaming and happy to have it that way.

Friedman stared at the image in the monitor, reflecting on Tiegs’s report. Voice contact with another ship. The question was, were they in contact with spirits, or flesh-and-blood humans? That ship in the monitor looked awfully solid. But so had the other ships down through the years… all the ships that had turned out to be nothing but vapor, jests of a malicious universe.

Or had they? Tiegs had maintained all along that those were real ships they’d seen, real voices of real riggers. Soho… Mirabelle… Ciudad de los Angeles… Centauri Adventurer… Friedman had never been sure himself. One way or another, they’d all slipped back into the night like dreams. But this one… could be different, he thought, rubbing his stubbly chin.

Captain Friedman felt it in his gut, though he couldn’t have said why. That black and gray ship out there, with its net stretched out toward Impris like a piece of ethereal taffy: Could this really be their rescuer?

“Tiegs,” said Friedman to his earnest young officer, “is that thing actually in physical contact with our net? Can you confirm that?”

Tiegs hesitated. “Well—actually, Poppy says it is, and Jamal agrees. But—”

Friedman frowned.

“—Sully says it isn’t, and they’re arguing about it right now.” Tiegs touched his ear, listening to the conversation in the net. “Sounds like Sully’s getting a bit worked up. Claims they’re hallucinating, and wants Poppy and Jamal to leave the net.”

Friedman closed his eyes, pondering through the haze of a sudden migraine. It was beyond him how the rigger crew had lasted this long together, after all the times their visions had turned to dust. The headache still thudding, he opened his eyes and studied the monitor again. The image of the other ship had grown noticeably. “That’s no goddamn hallucination,” he muttered. “Tell Sully to get out of there before he screws up the whole operation. If they need someone else, get Thompson.”

Tiegs pressed his throat mike. “Sully, Captain’s orders are to come out of the net. Do you read me on that, Sully?” He touched his ear. “Did you hear me on that, Sully?” Tiegs shook his head. “We may have a problem getting him out.”

Friedman strode to the rigger-station where Sully was reclined behind a scratched and smudgy window. He rapped on the window, then pressed the com-key. “Sullivan, get your ass out here on the bridge!” After a moment’s thought, he added more gently, “We need your help on something.”

He stepped back, waiting. The window opened, and Sully squinted out at him as if he’d just emerged from a cave. Staggering, Sully climbed out of the station. He was a big man, with sandy hair. He looked as if he’d been in the rigger-station for days.

Friedman steadied him with one hand. “Sully, I want you to keep an eye on the monitor here and keep me informed about what’s happening.” And stay out of trouble, for God’s sake.

Sully looked around in puzzlement, then shrugged and went to stand in front of the monitor. “I see we have the hallucination up here on the screen,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s right,” said Friedman. “That’s exactly the sort of thing I need you to tell me. Let me know if it gets any closer.” He turned to Tiegs. “Find out if those two need help in there. And find me my backups.”

Tiegs nodded and returned to the com.

Friedman stabbed a finger at Fenzy, a lanky fellow who had gotten up from his station to stare open-mouthed at the screen. “You—fire up the fluxwave and see if you can put me in contact with that ship’s captain out there.”

Through the joined nets, the faces of the Impris riggers were growing larger and clearer. There was definitely a haunted look about them, Legroeder thought; the ghost images earlier had not been all wrong. While the spectral faces staring back did not necessarily reflect the physical appearance of the men in the other net, they undoubtedly echoed the men’s states of mind. Was it surprising that they looked this way, if they had spent the last hundred twenty-four years in the net, waiting hopelessly for rescue?

There was some inaudible crosstalk in the net.

Say again? said Legroeder.

I said, don’t do that.

Do what? Legroeder asked, then realized that some argument was going on in the Impris net. Maybe that explained the jerky hold the Impris crew was exerting on the line.

The Phoenix crew continued to draw in the net, slowly but steadily. The effort was becoming somewhat less difficult as the reach of the net shortened.

Cantha’s voice cut in from the bridge. We’re getting a call on fluxwave. It’s from the captain of Impris.

Legroeder wanted to cheer. Can you let us hear it?

Stand by, said Cantha, and then a new voice filled the net.

—is Noel Friedman, captain of Faber Eridani starliner Impris. To whom am I speaking?

Glenswarg’s voice filled the com. This is Captain Jaemes Glenswarg of Kyber-Ivan Phoenix. Captain, we are extremely pleased to have found you. Are you in need of assistance?

Are we—? The other skipper’s voice was choked with emotion. Captain, we are very much in need…

As the captains conferred, Legroeder and his rigger-mates continued drawing Impris closer. Progress grew faster as the nets shortened and became stronger. Sooner than Legroeder would have imagined, the ships were nearly alongside each other. Legroeder signaled his fellow riggers to begin reaching all the way around Impris with the Phoenix net. It felt to him as if they were about to embrace a long-lost, estranged family.

As his crewmates handled the net, Legroeder called across to the Impris crew, I’m Rigger Legroeder. We met once, years ago. I was aboard Ciudad de los Angeles then.

Ciudad de los Angeles! echoed an astounded voice. Have you come back to haunt us, then?

Legroeder blinked in astonishment. They had heard the L.A. riggers! With sudden exultation, he remembered his own first reason for being here. He had witnesses! Are you recording all this, Cantha? he shouted into the com. Get it all! Every word! As Cantha muttered an acknowledgment, he called, Impris—we heard your distress call seven years ago, on Ciudad de los Angeles. We couldn’t help you then—but we’ve come back to get you!

The confusion in the other net was palpable.

What do you mean—?

Seven years—?

Deutsch murmured to Legroeder, It might be better not to try to explain too much right now.

Legroeder nodded agreement. Impris, you’re caught in a fold of the underflux. We will do our very best to get you out. May we grapple and dock?

At that moment Glenswarg came on the com to tell the rigger crew that they had permission to dock with Impris. Legroeder drew a deep breath of triumph and relief.

As the riggers began to enfold Impris in their net, he had a sudden unsettling vision of the joined nets echoing with manic laughter.

Chapter 30 Ghost Ship

The grappling with the net turned out to be more difficult than Legroeder expected, despite Phoenix’s net having been built for just such operations. Just as they were about to close around Impris, the passenger liner began to ripple in their grasp like a great silver fish. Afraid they might lose it, Legroeder called for more power to the flux-reactor. The shimmying became worse; it was like trying to hold onto a frightened whale. A low groan began to reverberate through the net. Everyone, stop! Legroeder cried. His pulse thudded in his ears as the net relaxed. Gradually, over several seconds, the reverberations subsided.

Impris—what just happened? he called. Do you know what caused that instability?

What instability? came the answer.

Legroeder blinked. You didn’t feel yourselves shimmying in our net a moment ago?

Pause. We didn’t feel anything.

Legroeder turned to his crewmates. Did you feel it?

Indeed, said`Palagren. Give me a moment to speak with Cantha…

As the Narseil turned his attention to the com, Legroeder asked Ker’sell, What did you feel?

Ker’sell’s voice sounded sluggish, as though he were in a daze. Time, he said slowly. There’s something wrong with it.

What do you mean, wrong? asked Legroeder. Do you mean the tessa’chron? Is there something in the immediate future?

Ker’sell hesitated, as if embarrassed. It’s not that. It’s as though it’s… blurred, he said finally.

Was this a Narseil admission of a weakness? Legroeder wondered. Ker’sell turned away, avoiding his gaze. Legroeder glanced down at Deutsch, who simply looked annoyed at the situation.

Palagren spoke again. Cantha thinks what we were seeing was a temporal flutter. They measured no spatial anomalies from the bridge, but all of the Narseil felt a blurring in the tessa’chron.

That’s what Ker’sell said. What’s it mean?

Palagren took a moment to readjust himself in the net. I’m not seeing a clear window on past, present, and future. It’s difficult to explain. My viewframe is smeared out, as if something’s… vibrating the spacetime continuum. He looked closely at his fellow riggers. He did not appear to share Ker’sell’s embarrassment about the subject. We may be feeling continuing quantum effects from our passage into this layer.

Legroeder shivered. How much do we know about that?

Palagren answered cautiously. Cantha and Agamem are studying it.

Well, if you figure it out, don’t forget to tell us, Deutsch muttered.

Palagren looked at him wordlessly for a moment. Cantha suggests that we pull tight for a hard dock without actually encircling Impris with the net. He believes a physical joining might keep the two ships in better synch.

I concur, said Captain Glenswarg, coming onto the com circuit. Pull us in as close as you can. We’ll fire tethers across.

Legroeder signaled the other riggers, and they began drawing the two ships together as before. When the gap had closed to a hundred meters, the captain ordered magnetic tethering cables launched across to anchor on Impris’s hull. Bumper forcefields were turned on, to keep the ships from colliding, and the tethers drawn in. Finally Glenswarg ordered a boarding tube stretched between the ships. Before sending anyone through, he asked Legroeder if there was a chance of bringing the two ships out into normal-space.

Legroeder hesitated before answering. The captain’s desire was understandable; they all wanted to know that they had done more than just join Impris in eternal limbo. And yet…

If I may interject, said Cantha, I believe it would be unwise to try. Until we understand better how we got into this fold, we could run the risk of burrowing ourselves in deeper.

Glenswarg’s silence sounded like a curse.

Captain, said Legroeder, I think the sooner we get over there to talk to their crew, the better.

All right, then—stabilize the net and come on out, Glenswarg said. I’ll send in the backups.

“Fine work,” he said, when the four riggers were standing on the deck with him. “Now I want you to go get some rest.”

Legroeder started to protest, then saw the other ship begin to ripple in the monitor with a slow-motion distortion. He held his breath.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call you when it’s time for you to go over,” Glenswarg said, reading his thoughts. “But first, we need to establish safe passage. That’s going to take time. And I’m not about to risk you people until I have to. You’re the only ones who have any hope of getting us out of here again.”

The captain was being smarter than he was, Legroeder realized. They were all exhausted. Very definitely, the smartest thing they could do right now was to go get some sleep.

Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easily. Legroeder kept thinking about Impris, floating beside them. He was desperately eager to cross over and physically touch the ship, and at the same time, the prospect filled him with fear. Several times, as he was just drifting off, he awoke again with a sudden, burning sense of dread—an inexplicable feeling that something was waiting to haunt him in his sleep. He told himself not to be foolish; he was just overtired.

Something out there… hidden…

Go to sleep.

In the end, with some help from the implants, he did sleep; but even in the depths of sleep, he remained aware of an irrational fear… a feeling that there was a monster in this realm, lurking just out of sight.

When he awoke, he felt as though he had not slept at all. He had the strangest sense that he had somehow slipped through time as he slept. (I don’t feel quite right,) he murmured to his implants, as he was getting dressed.

// We register an inconsistency in your biological clock, compared with our clock mechanism. //

(Explain.)

// We cannot. //

Cannot, he thought, frowning to himself as he looked in the mirror and gave his umbrella-cut hair a quick swipe. His eyes looked bleary. He sighed and went to find the others.

It wasn’t long before the riggers were gathered, with rolls and cups of murk, in the briefing room off the galley. “I just spoke to the captain,” Deutsch reported. “They’re about to open the boarding tunnel to Impris. Let’s see if we can get it on the monitor here.” Deutsch made some adjustments to the wall screen, and soon had a picture of three Kyber crew members, including the first officer, making their way through the Phoenix airlock and then into the tunnel-shaped boarding tube. As the three men floated toward Impris, half the screen showed them dwindling down the tube and half showed a view, apparently from a shoulder-mounted camera, of the other ship drawing near. The Impris airlock opened as they approached.

Legroeder realized he was holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale.

“We’re in the airlock now,” reported the first officer on the comlink. “Airlock’s closing.” The image became shadowy as the other ship’s hull came between the men and Phoenix, but the voice transmission was still clear enough to hear: “Cycling and opening on the inside…”

Standing in the briefing room, they could make out the door sliding open, and a large group waiting inside Impris.

“Hello!” called the first officer.

The Impris crew surged forward, engulfing the contact party. At first, their voices were indistinct; and then Legroeder heard: “MY GOD, ARE YOU GUYS REAL? OH, MY GOD—!” And then it was a total chaos of greetings and introductions, as the bewildered crew of the lost ship met the first humans from outside their hull in over a century.

Legroeder and the others watched for a while, then turned back to their part of the business at hand, which was to try to figure out a way to get both ships the hell out of this place.

“I think,” said Cantha, “that we’ve pretty well confirmed where we are. But we still don’t know how Impris got here, and or even for sure how we got here.”

“Oh, that’s great,” said Derrek, the Kyber rigger, who seemed alternately impressed by and resentful of the Narseil success.

Cantha’s neck-sail stiffened. “We appear to have passed through a quantum fluctuation as we entered the underflux fold. Unfortunately, it interfered with our ability to map what was happening. We really need to talk to the Impris riggers.”

“The raindrop—was that the quantum fluctuation?” Legroeder asked.

“We believe so,” Palagren said. “It was most likely a wave function connected to something deeper in the spacetime structure. We’re still trying to understand why we found Impris right here when we passed through, instead of a dozen light-years away, where we thought she was.”

“Are you saying we traveled that distance instantaneously—or was she actually here all along?” Legroeder asked.

“We’re not sure the question actually has meaning in this context,” said Cantha. “I’m not sure what the concept of distance means in the fold. But a more immediate question is, can we find a way back out through the quantum fluctuation, or is it a one-way passage?”

Derrek looked ill.

Legroeder prompted Palagren, who said, “To answer either question, we have to understand exactly what went on when we came through. We need to put our flight recordings through some intensive processing—which Cantha has already begun.”

“I’m sure of this,” said Cantha. “It’s related to the phenomenon of quantum linkage across spacetime. We’ve always known that individual particles can be quantum-linked across vast distance—but no one’s ever seen such a large-scale effect before, that I know of.”

Legroeder mulled that over. “What about the problem we had grappling Impris? Was that quantum fluctuation, too?”

“Probably,” said Cantha. “We know that the time flow is altered here. We’ve measured shifts in simultaneity, and all of us—” he gestured to the other Narseil “—have felt disturbances in the tessa’chron. But I still don’t know how to interpret—”

He was interrupted by a call on the intercom. It was Captain Glenswarg, and he sounded annoyed. “Researchers and contact personnel report to the boarding area at once. Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch—for the third time, dammit, report to the bridge!”

Legroeder exchanged a mystified glance with Deutsch. “Have you heard him call before?”

“Nope,” said Deutsch. “But I’m acknowledging now. Shall we go?”

“Keep us updated,” Legroeder said to the Narseil, as he and Deutsch headed out of the room.

In the corridor, he heard another call from the captain—this time saying, “Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch, stand by to go aboard Impris. Please acknowledge and report to the bridge for your instructions.”

Legroeder looked at Deutsch, puzzled.

They found Glenswarg stalking back and forth before the consoles. “Call Legroeder and Deutsch again,” he was instructing the com officer. Then he turned around. “Oh—there you are. Good of you to make it, for Rings’ sake.”

“We came as soon as you called,” Legroeder said.

Glenswarg looked annoyed. “I called four times.”

“Four—?” Legroeder began—and suddenly realized what was happening. They’d heard the captain’s first call after the third one. We’re in trouble. “Captain, I think you’d better get your people mapping everything they can on temporal instabilities in the area.” He explained what they had heard, and when.

Glenswarg’s scowl deepened as the implications sank in. “Just what we need,” he muttered. “Well, until we find something we can do about it, I suppose we should go ahead with our plans. You need to talk to the riggers over there. Make damn sure you report back regularly,” He stuck a finger into Legroeder’s breastbone. “Err on the side of calling too often. If anything like this happens again, I want to know. And don’t stay long. Got that?”

“Yessir.”

“Get going.”

On the boarding deck, they found that a number of Kyber crewmen had already gone back and forth between the two ships. The Impris crew were reportedly eager to speak with their rescuers. “Captain said to conduct you straightaway to Impris,” said the Kyber lieutenant in charge of transfer operations.

Legroeder peered out at the long, transparent tube stretched out between the two ships’ airlocks. He shivered at the thought of that frail protection between him and the naked Flux; but there was no help for it, and now the lieutenant was waving them into the airlock.

“After you,” said Deutsch, telescoping an arm forward. Legroeder grunted, then realized that Deutsch was probably ushering him ahead out of genuine consideration. After all, he had been looking for Impris far longer than Deutsch had. He nodded and stepped into the airlock.

Ship’s gravity ended at the outer airlock door, and they floated out into the tube with a lurch. Two Kyber crewmen were waiting in the tube to escort them through. Legroeder was embarrassed but grateful. The weightlessness was disconcerting enough—but that became incidental when he looked out through the clear wall of the tube.

It was like gazing into another reality. They were the same swirling mists he saw in the rigger-net; but here, viewed with the human eye, they looked far more perilous, as though at any moment they might engulf him in their churning energies. What would happen if the ships moved apart and the boarding tube came loose, spilling him and Deutsch into the Flux? What horrifying death would they encounter?

Legroeder shuddered and headed for the far airlock. But Deutsch seemed fixated by the Flux; he was floating at the tube wall, peering out, his head a Christmas tree of flickering augments. “Freem’n, c’mon!” Legroeder shouted.

Deutsch followed reluctantly.

Legroeder sighed with relief as they floated into the Impris airlock. He grabbed a handhold, but stumbled nonetheless as the Impris gravity-field brought him to the deck with a lurch. Deutsch, effortless on his levitators, reached out to steady his friend. The Kyber crewmen checked to see they were secure, then launched themselves back toward Phoenix.

The airlock closed, and the inner hatch opened. Standing before them were two more Kyber, plus a pair of unfamiliar crewmen wearing rumpled Impris uniforms. The starliner crewmen looked haggard, but eager. “Sirs!” cried one. “Welcome aboard!”

“Thank you,” said Legroeder. “We’d like to see your riggers and captain as soon as possible.”

“He said to bring you right away,” said the crewman in a strangely halting voice.

Legroeder started. Had that crewman just winked out for an instant, like a faulty holo? He wasn’t a holo, though; Legroeder’s nose told him that the crewman was overdue for a mist-shower.

“This way,” said the other.

Legroeder glanced at Deutsch. A tickle from his implants told him that Freem’n had seen it, too. Not good, he thought, as he turned to follow the crewmen down the ship’s corridor and—he hoped—toward the bridge.

Voices clamored as the bulkhead door opened. “Tiegs! Did you tell Poppy and Jamal to come out of there?”

“I told them, Captain.”

“Tell them again! Tell them I said now.”

As Deutsch and Legroeder stepped onto the bridge, they saw crew members scattered among various posts. The bridge itself looked different enough from modern designs to be noticeable—it had more silver and chrome, for one thing—and yet, it bore more similarities than differences. Apparently, ship design had been stable awhile. A tallish, white-haired man turned to greet them. He wore a tattered uniform jacket over rumpled leisure pants. His bright blue eyes looked more than a little wild. “You’re the riggers from Phoenix?” he demanded. It was more a shout than a greeting.

“Uh—yes—” began Legroeder.

The escorting crewman cleared his throat. “This is Captain Friedman—Noel Friedman. Captain, Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch.”

“Welcome aboard!” the captain roared. “We’re sure as hell happy to see you people! How the hell did you find us, out here?”

“That’s a long story, Captain. I’d like to tell you about it when we have more—” Legroeder faltered, as he realized that Friedman was staring at Deutsch and not listening to a word. “Captain,” he said hastily, “Rigger Deutsch is from the Free Kyber worlds.”

“Free Kyber!”

“Yes, and I’m—well, from several worlds, I guess. Most recently, Faber Eridani.”

“Faber Eri?” Friedman barked. “We’re out of Faber Eri. Is that where Phoenix is from? I thought they said someplace named Ivan.”

“Yessir. Phoenix is a Free Kyber ship, from Outpost Ivan. We’ve a mixed crew, including myself of the Centrist Worlds, and several Narseil members.”

“Narseil! Kyber!” Friedman exclaimed. “Are you all working together? Is the war over?”

“Yes—for more than a hundred years.”

“A hundred years!” Friedman looked from one to the other in astonishment. “Good Christ! Your captain said you’d been looking for us a long time, but… a hundred years?”

“A hundred twenty-four, actually. I’m afraid a lot has happened since you left Faber Eridani.”

Friedman looked stunned. “I’m surprised anyone still remembers us,” he said softly.

“Well, that’s—”

“And yet, you came looking for us. Incredible.” Friedman frowned. “What about Fandrang? Gloris Fandrang. Is he still working?”

Legroeder shook his head. “No, sir, I’m afraid he died many years ago. But it was his report that got me started in my search. There have been—” he hesitated, not wanting to get sidetracked by complicated explanations “—searches for you before. You have been seen by other ships. But no one has ever figured out how to get to you.”

“Fandrang dead?” Friedman said thoughtfully. “Sweet Jesus. Pen Lee will be distressed to hear that. He’s already pretty shaky. He was Fandrang’s assistant, you know.” Friedman shook his head. “Has it really been—what did you say?—a hundred twenty years?”

“A hundred twenty-four,” said Deutsch, speaking for the first time.

Friedman gazed around his bridge, frowning. In one corner of the center monitor, Phoenix was visible, large against the Flux. Legroeder tried to imagine what the captain was thinking. How many friends, family members, loved ones had he left behind when he’d set out on his journey? None were left to greet him at home.

“So.” Friedman drew himself up and turned back to Legroeder and Deutsch. “Well, let me introduce you to my crew.” He brushed at his rumpled uniform. “I’m afraid our hospitality has gotten a little rusty. If you’d like to see the ship, we can arrange—”

Legroeder raised a hand to cut him off. “If we could do that later—right now, we want to talk to your riggers, to see if we can find out what happened to strand you here. We’re still working on the best way to get out of here—we’re in a fold in the underflux, you know, in a layer of the Deep Flux.”

“Deep Flux?” Friedman blinked. “Let me get my riggers. Tiegs! Have those men come out yet?”

“Coming now, skipper.”

“Good.” Friedman turned back to Legroeder and Deutsch. “We are more grateful then I can tell you. There are four hundred eighty-six men, women, and children passengers aboard, plus seventy-four crew.”

“Yes, we—”

“It means a lot to know that we weren’t forgotten.”

Legroeder swallowed as he thought about the lies told about the ship over the years. “You have an almost… legendary status,” he said finally.

The captain’s eyes widened. “Is that so? Well, what now, then? Can you get us out? Lead us back to civilization?” His gaze was filled with sudden intensity. “You should know that this ship is still fully functional.” For an instant, the message blazed unmistakable in his eyes: Don’t make me abandon my command.

Deutsch made a soft clicking sound. “Captain, we’re compiling information about the quantum structure of the Flux here. We have experts with us from the Narseil Rigging Institute. And people from Phoenix to go over your ship with a fine-toothed comb for any evidence of what happened.”

“You can try—but we went over the ship with a fine-toothed comb a hundred years ago and it didn’t help.” Friedman’s eyes flashed. “Do you know the way out, or don’t you?”

“We won’t know until we try,” said Legroeder. “That’s why we really need to talk to your riggers.”

Friedman spun around. “Where are those two?”

Across the bridge, a panel slid open on a rigger-station. “Did you want me, skipper?” said a bearded, black-skinned man as he rolled out slowly, shaking his head. On the next station, another panel creaked open and a thin, pale, blond-haired man climbed out, blinking in the bright light.

“We’ve been calling you for half an hour,” said Friedman. “Come say hello to the riggers from Phoenix. They came a long way to find us.”

“That’s an understatement, I guess,” said the first rigger. “Let me tell you—for a while there, I thought you guys were ghosts or something. But ghosts don’t pull like that.”

“Rigger Jamal,” said Captain Friedman, and then gestured to the blond “—and Rigger Poppy. Meet Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch.”

Legroeder stuck out a hand in greeting.

Poppy peered at him. “You the one from the Los Angeles?”

Legroeder nodded, memories cascading in his skull.

“And you—” Poppy cocked his head at Deutsch “—you look just like a guy I saw in the net of some ship—jeez, it was like a damn pirate ship or something. It came out of nowhere and started shooting up another ship that looked like they were trying to help us.”

Deutsch was silent a moment. “That was not me. But I think I know the people you mean.”

Poppy frowned in puzzlement.

“We came to try to help you,” Deutsch said softly.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” said Jamal. “Can you lead us out of here? I’m ready when you are.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” said Legroeder.

“These two gentlemen need to sit down and talk to you,” Friedman said. “Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch want to know about your experience.”

“That’s right,” Legroeder said. “Everything you can tell us about how you got here. Anything that might help us avoid blind alleys or mistakes getting out again.”

Deutsch interjected, “If you don’t mind my asking, how have you managed to survive all this time?”

Friedman’s brows went up. “We’ve done all right. We’ve… taken good care of the passengers, all things considered. We had to expand our hydroponics and recyclers and so on, of course.” He pressed his lips together; he was trembling a little. “But you know—this time thing. It sure hasn’t—well, it hasn’t been any hundred and twenty-four years, here.”

“More like an eternity,” muttered Jamal.

Legroeder nodded, sensing the strain they were all under. “Is there someplace we can talk?” he asked gently.

The corridors of the passenger liner were starting to fill up with crewmen from Phoenix, working with Impris officers to interview the passengers and crew, and see to any immediate needs or medical problems. The captain emptied a nearby conference room for the riggers to confer.

They had barely gotten settled around the table, however, when a call came to Legroeder on his collar-com from Phoenix, via relays set up through the boarding tube. It was Captain Glenswarg, wondering why the hell he hadn’t reported in.

“We just got here,” Legroeder said, surprised. “We’ve only just sat down to talk.”

“Just sat down? You’ve been over there for six hours,” said Glenswarg.

Legroeder’s heart froze. “Excuse me, Captain? It’s been less than half an hour, our time.”

There was silence on the com. Then: “Christ. All right—look. Stay there absolutely not a minute longer than you have to. And report back to me in ten minutes, your time. Understood?”

“Understood,” Legroeder echoed. He exchanged troubled glances with Deutsch, then turned to the Impris officers. “It looks like we’re having some problems—Captain, are you all right?”

Friedman looked startled. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You seemed to blink out for a moment.”

Friedman winced. “That sort of thing happens. We don’t really know why. But the whole ship is riddled with time distortions. It seems to affect some of us more than others.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Legroeder shifted his gaze from the captain to the riggers and back again. He was afraid to take his eyes off any of them.

“From one part of the ship to the next?” Friedman looked puzzled, as if unsure what should be obvious and what not. “As if the time seems to flow in these ripples and eddies, you know. Fast one place, slow another. Depending on where you are in the ship, you’re aging faster, or more slowly.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve got one couple spending their time in a damn closet together, because time is slow there. They’ve been gambling on being rescued. But who knows if they’re right? Because if we weren’t rescued, they’d just be prolonging their lives so they’d be left behind when the rest of us finally die.”

Legroeder shivered.

“Not to mention,” Poppy interjected, “that boy who tried to kill hims—”

“Here now—no need to talk of that,” Friedman chided. “We’re here to think constructively.”

Legroeder drew a deep breath. “We’d better concentrate on the rigging issues. Let’s start by finding out what you know about how you got here. How much do you remember?”

Jamal snorted. “What’s to remember? We were rigging along just fine, and when the time came to get out, we couldn’t.”

Legroeder glanced at Deutsch. “You didn’t notice anything along the way? Any hint of problems?”

Poppy waved his hand in agitation. “Jamal, you’re forgetting—there was that whole business of when we went through a sort of funnel. It wasn’t such a big deal—except we all thought the Flux felt different afterward.”

“Oh yeah,” said Jamal, scratching his head. “But it’s not like we thought anything was wrong, then.”

“Not wrong. But different.”

“Different, how?” Legroeder asked.

Poppy grimaced, as though trying to recall something from very long ago. “Different, like it was harder to get a grip. A purchase. We were still flying, but there was some slippage, if you know what I mean. Not enough to clue us that something was really wrong. But then, later, when we tried to come out…”

“What happened then?” Legroeder asked, wondering, was the funnel just another image of the raindrop Phoenix had gone through?

“Nothing happened!” Poppy and Jamal cried together.

“Do you mean, there was no response from the net?”

“It was as if it had gone dead,” said Poppy. “I don’t mean dead: it still worked. But we couldn’t do anything, couldn’t change our position or speed… couldn’t even change the image much. And that’s more or less how it’s been ever since.”

“Did you check the reactor? Try increasing the output?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jamal chuckled grimly. “Of course. We gave it a real good goosing.”

“And?”

Poppy gestured around the room. “That’s when this time business started—”

“That’s when people started blinking out.” Jamal studied the opposite wall for a moment, rubbing with a thumb and forefinger at his lips. He looked back at Legroeder. “Let me tell you. That scared us real good. Real good.” His eyes filled with fear as he spoke.

Legroeder remembered their effort to increase power when they were trying to grapple Impris with the net. It had only made the problem worse.

“So do you know how to get us out or not?” Poppy asked.

Legroeder hesitated, and Deutsch spoke instead. “We have thoughts on the matter,” he said.

Jamal burst into bitter laughter. “You have thoughts? Well, isn’t that a relief! Rings, man—we’ve had thoughts!”

Legroeder flushed. “He means that the Narseil riggers who got us in also think they can get us out. But—”

“But they don’t know, is that it?” Jamal’s laugh gave Legroeder a shiver. “Hell, man, don’t tell me you came all this way just to sit and rot with us!”

“Not that we don’t appreciate the company,” Poppy added.

Legroeder exhaled softly. “We hope our situation is somewhat improved from yours. For one thing, we have the benefit of more than a hundred years of rigger science since you flew. Plus, we have a hybrid crew—with and without augmentation.”

“I see you’ve got some augmentation yourself,” Poppy said pointedly, reminding Legroeder that in Impris’s time the Kyber were a dreaded enemy, considered barely human.

Legroeder frowned. “I do have augments, but I don’t use them much while rigging—unlike Rigger Deutsch here, who uses them extensively. So we’re pairing our skills. Plus, we have two excellent Narseil riggers, who have a good understanding of the latest research.”

“If they understand it so well—”

“What I’m trying to say is, we have a variety of different viewpoints—”

Legroeder was interrupted by the movement of a dark shadow over his head. He glanced up in alarm. It looked like a large ocean breaker, rising over him from behind. It was not a shadow on the walls, but a darkness in the air itself. It curled over, well above his head, and came down past the far side of the table, before curling under the table. Then it stopped, hovering, enclosing the conference table in the tube of its curling wave of blackness. “What the hell?” Legroeder whispered.

Deutsch rose on his levitators and approached the leading edge of the shadow. He rotated in midair, inspecting it from various angles, his regular eyes and his cheekbone eyes swiveling. “I can’t tell what it is,” he murmured. The augments on the side of his head were afire with activity. Floating forward, he telescoped his left hand out toward the phenomenon.

“Freem’n, wait—”

Deutsch reached into the wave until his hand disappeared. Then he pulled it back out. “Seems okay,” he said, turning his hand over. “Whatever it is, it didn’t hurt me. Let’s have a closer look.”

“Freem’n, wait!”

Deutsch floated forward and leaned into the shadow. “ ’S okay…” His voice became muffled, then cut off. Abruptly, as though yanked, he toppled headfirst into the shadow.

“Freem’n!” Legroeder yelled, jumping up. But his friend was gone, lost in the wall of darkness. Legroeder swung to Captain Friedman and the Impris riggers. “What’s going on?”

Jamal and Poppy were shaking their heads.

A heartbeat later, the wave of darkness surged forward. Before he could move, it engulfed him, too.

Legroeder blinked, stunned. He was sitting on a cold metal deck, in a very deep gloom. “Captain? Freem’n?” There was no answer. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he realized he was no longer in the meeting room. Then where was he? There was some illumination: emergency or night-lighting, emanating from hidden sources spaced along the base of the walls. His eyes adjusted slowly. He was in a corridor. He could hear a distant ticking sound, and a noise like the closing of a door. “Hello?” he called.

There was no answer.

(What can you tell me?) he asked the implants.

// We registered a discontinuity in all readings. Our chronometry is totally desynchronized. //

(In other words, you don’t know much.)

// Acknowledged. // The implants sounded almost rueful.

Legroeder groaned to his feet and looked both ways down the corridor. There was nothing to indicate where in the ship he was, so he chose a direction at random and started walking. In due course, he came to a series of doors outlined in a pale luminous blue. A hum was audible behind the wall. He tried two of the doors, but they didn’t budge. Probably an engineering area—ventilation or hydroponics or something.

He continued walking, but his feelings of unease grew steadily. Was anybody here? He felt as if he were on a ghost ship, the only one still alive.

He drew a breath, cupped his hands, and bellowed down the corridor, “HALLOOO! ANYBODY HER-R-RE?” He turned and called the other way.

At first there was no answer. Then he heard an amplified voice calling back, “Legroeder? Is that you?”

His heart quickened. “Yes! This way!”

Deutsch appeared around a corner, some distance down the corridor. He was an eerie sight, floating toward Legroeder on his base with his augments winking slowly on the sides of his head. “Are you all right?” he called.

“Yah.” Legroeder hurried to meet his friend. “Thank God! I thought I was the only one left.” He stopped and turned around. “Do you have any idea what happened? I was—was—” He suddenly stopped, shaking his head. He had completely lost his train of thought.

“Time,” Deutsch said. “That’s all I know. There was a time fluctuation. My internal clocks are all scrambled. It’s ship’s night now.” The Kyber’s eyes, glowing in the dark, made him seem more robot than human. “Did we just lose a bunch of hours?”

Legroeder blinked. “Weren’t we just—?” He shook his head; he was having trouble remembering where he had been. “We were… talking… in the meeting room.”

“Yes,” Deutsch said.

“And that wave of shadow—”

“Temporal displacement wave, I think,” Deutsch said slowly.

“It pulled you right out of the meeting room—and then hit the rest of us—”

“Which, by my reckoning, was about ten minutes ago. I’ve been wandering the passageways,” Deutsch said.

“Did you see anyone?”

“A couple of people. When they saw me, they ran the other way. I think they thought I was a ghost.” Deutsch scanned the corridor. “Do you know what I’m wondering?”

“I’m wondering a lot of things.”

“Well, I’m wondering where we were, physically, between the time we were in that meeting room, and now.”

Legroeder cleared his throat uneasily. “You have any thoughts on that?”

“Yeah, but you won’t like it.”

“I already don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking maybe we were far away… especially if this quantum fluctuation that Palagren and Cantha talk about is spread out over a large area. Or maybe we weren’t exactly in existence at all.” Deutsch’s round glass eyes seemed to loom in the near-darkness.

Legroeder chewed his knuckles for a moment, trying to focus constructively. Before he could come to any conclusions, he was startled by a strange-sounding cry behind him in the corridor. He turned and saw three people walking toward him. Or not so much walking as rippling toward him, stretching through the air like ghostly time-lapse holos, then contracting forward. They were talking, or possibly shouting; their voices were distorted, incomprehensible.

As they drew close, it became clear they did not see Legroeder and Deutsch before them. “Excuse me!” Legroeder called, stepping out to get their attention. They still appeared not to see him, and he flattened himself to the wall to get out of their way.

The nearest, a heavyset man, brushed against him; the man passed through him as if he were a ghost. Legroeder turned to gape as the trio receded down the passageway. Their voices dopplered down to a distorted bass rumble.

“That was very interesting,” Deutsch remarked, floating out into the center of the corridor again. “What do you suppose just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Legroeder said. “But I hope we can find someone on this ship who can talk to us.”

“Or on Phoenix,” Deutsch said. “I’m not getting a com-signal. Are you?”

Legroeder felt a sudden chill; he’d not thought to check. (Are we?)

// There is no com-signal. //

He shook his head. “You don’t suppose it could just be our implant function messed up?”

“Maybe. Or maybe we haven’t quite made it all the way back to our own space,” Deutsch said softly.

Legroeder’s jaw muscles tightened. If Impris could be trapped in its own space, floating like a specter out of contact with others, what was to prevent individuals from being similarly trapped? He squeezed his hands into fists. Don’t jump to conclusions. “Do you know which way to the bridge?”

“This way, I think.”

They walked awhile, and finally found a directional map showing them to be aft of the passenger’s recreational area. Once they located the main corridor, they moved quickly along its deserted length. Were there any real people here?

The answer came finally when they passed through a large passenger lounge and found a scattering of people, as one might on a large ship, late at night. “I wonder if these folks will see us,” Deutsch murmured.

Seated at a coffee table, two women were playing cards. One, blonde, looked to be in her twenties; the other was a brunette, somewhat older. The brunette sat with her blouse partly open in back—as if she had been interrupted in process of dressing and transported to this spot, with no memory of what she had been doing. The blonde, sitting opposite, was absorbed in her hand of cards. As Deutsch and Legroeder approached, she looked up at them. She seemed to focus on Legroeder’s face and started to speak. For a moment he thought she was going to address him; then the older woman said something, and the blonde looked back down at her cards.

Legroeder frowned, stepping close to the table. He peered at the cards and asked, “What are you playing?”

The younger woman held out a card, placing it on the center of the coffee table—and as Legroeder bent for a better look, she peered right through him. She spoke again, and her voice was incomprehensibly distorted.

“They don’t see you,” Deutsch said. “Let’s go.”

Passing along the length of the lounge, they came to a young man absorbed in a stand-up holo-game of twisting lights and strange sounds, all contained within a ghostly shadow-curtain. Was this what the game was supposed to look like? Legroeder wondered—or was it, too, being distorted? He stepped up beside the young man. “Good game?”

“Mrrrrk-k-k-k-ll…”

“Can you hear me?”

The man, reaching out to fiddle with a control on the game board, put his hand through Legroeder’s left arm. Legroeder drew a deep breath. If there’s a way to get here, there has to be a way to get out, he told himself, as though chanting a mantra. Only half believing it, he followed Deutsch onward.

At the end of the lounge, an old man was sitting with his feet propped on the table, reading a book. As they went by, the man looked up, arching his eyebrows. “Don’t recall seeing you two here before,” he said. “You must be off a’ that other ship, the one that’s knockin’ us off kilter—”

Legroeder could scarcely breathe. “You can see us?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but… well, you’re the first person who’s—”

“Wait a minute,” said Deutsch. “You said we’re knocking you off kilter?”

The man chuckled. “Well, begging your pardon—things have gone from bad to worse since you got here, what with the time waves and all.” He marked his place in the book and closed it. “Don’t get me wrong. But I hear people saying your arrival must have upset something in the continuum. Not that I understand how things could possibly be worse—except if we take you along with us.”

Legroeder stared at him open-mouthed.

// If we might interject—it could be very important to determine whether or not this is true. //

(No kidding,) Legroeder thought.

“We passed through an instability ourselves, not long ago,” Deutsch said.

The man laughed. “You’re in good company. Twice now, since I been reading my book here, I found myself having dinner again last night.” He grimaced. “The first time was bad enough. They used to have good food on this ship. That was before everything came from the recyclers.”

“Do you have any idea where we might find the captain?” Legroeder asked. “We were meeting with him, and then this wall of darkness—”

The old man waved him to silence. “If the same thing happened to him, he could be most anywhere. But you’re headed in the right direction for the bridge and crew section. Just keep going till you get to the royal blue doors.”

“Thank you,” Deutsch said, his face flickering with augment activity. He peered up the corridor with his primary eyes, while his cheekbone eyes remained fixed on the man. “Any chance you might come with us? Help us if we get lost?”

“Jesus, that’s weird. Your eyes, I mean. No offense.” The man shook his head. “No, I’d rather just read my book, if that’s okay with you. It’s a happier way to go.”

“All right,” said Legroeder. “Thanks, then.”

They continued quickly on.

It seemed only a dozen heartbeats later when Legroeder suddenly shivered, blinked…

—wave of shadow passing over—

…grabbed for Deutsch, didn’t find him, felt a rush of disorientation, his vision swimming…

He refocused with an effort and found himself in the meeting room with Captain Friedman, Jamal, and Poppy. He struggled for breath as he peered around the room. No Deutsch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Friedman asked.

Legroeder couldn’t tell if the captain was angry or just surprised. “I’m—not sure—” Legroeder gasped. “I think I just got transported to… tonight. At least… some night. There was a passenger lounge, and hardly any people. Most of them couldn’t see me.”

Friedman grunted.

“A passenger told us that things had grown more unstable since our arrival—”

“Told us? Who’s us?”

“Rigger Deutsch. I found him back there, and then we got separated again. Have you seen him since—?”

“I’m right here,” said Deutsch, beside him.

Legroeder jumped, startled.

“I have not seen Rigger Deutsch since—oh, there he is,” Friedman said, squinting. He shook his head. “What were you saying?”

“That the instabilities may be worse as a result of our presence here. May I take a moment to contact my ship?”

“Certainly. Do you need a com-unit?”

Legroeder shook his head. (Connect me to the ship, please?)

// Trying… connecting… //

A moment later, Cantha’s voice squawked from the collar-com: “Legroeder, this is Phoenix. We’ve been trying to reach you for hours. What’s wrong? Do you have a report?”

“Sort of,” Legroeder said, and described briefly what had happened. “Have you been observing anything like this?”

“We certainly have,” said Cantha. “Including the fact that you seem completely out of time synch with us. More importantly, we’ve mapped some movement in the quantum flux, and we have some ideas about what might be causing it.”

“Such as—?”

“We believe that we may be sitting on top of a very large flaw in the quantum structure of the Deep Flux. We suspect its influence is reverberating upward through the layers of the underflux. And by the way, at least three riggers on this ship have reported having dreams—all with a similar thread. Frightening dreams, mostly.”

“Dreams!” Legroeder barked, suddenly remembering the fears he’d felt trying to sleep the night before.

“Yes, have you—?”

“Hold a moment, Cantha.” Legroeder realized that Jamal and Poppy had swung to face him, the word dream on both of their lips. “Does this mean something to you?”

The two Impris riggers looked wide-eyed. Jamal was crouching slightly in his chair, a grimace on his face. “Something coming,” Jamal whispered. “I keep dreaming that it’s coming. Coming to get me. To get all of us.”

“What is? What’s coming to get you?”

Jamal shook his head. “Don’t know. Monstrous thing. It sounds crazy. But it’s like there’s a big serpent or something in the sky…”

Legroeder shifted his gaze. “You, too, Poppy?”

Poppy nodded, biting his lip. “For me, it’s like… the Gates of Hell or something,” he whispered. “Something real bad. I can’t sleep at all when I’ve been dreaming about it. Sully too. Sully’s had it, too.”

“Okay,” Legroeder said. “I want to know everything you can tell me about it. Cantha, did you hear that?”

“Yes, I did,” came the Narseil’s voice. “Get the details, please. We’ve got to piece it together quickly. Palagren thinks we need to get out of here before the instability gets uncontrollable.”

“Do you know yet what’s causing it?”

“We think it’s an entropic effect of the two overlapping flux-reactor fields, in the presence of the quantum fluctuations. There are signs it’s getting progressively worse.”

Legroeder felt faint. “Meaning, if we don’t get out soon, we won’t get out at all?”

“Precisely.”

“And have you come up with a way to do it? To get out?”

“Possibly. That confirmation of the dreams might be an important clue. If there is a deeper structure… and people, riggers, are somehow sensing it subconsciously…”

Legroeder frowned.

“Hold on a moment, Legroeder. Palagren wants to talk to you.”

Legroeder waited, drumming his fingers on the table. Finally he heard Palagren’s voice. “Are you there? Did Cantha tell you that we have to move fast?”

“Yes. But he didn’t say how we were going to do it.”

“We think we have a way. But we nee-e-e-d to-o-o ta-a-a-a-l-l-l-k-k…” Palagren’s answer suddenly stretched out into a long distortion of his voice, then faded away.

“Palagren? Palagren?”

// We have lost the connection. //

(Can you get it back?)

// We are trying, but there is no longer a com-signal. //

“What is it, Legroeder?” Deutsch asked.

Legroeder gestured sharply. “See if you can raise the ship.”

Deutsch became very still, then shook his head.

Friedman reached for his own com-set. “Bridge! Has there been any change in the other ship?”

“Excuse me, sir?” came the answer.

“The other ship. Phoenix. Is there a change in its condition.”

There was a pause. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir. What other ship?”

“The ship that docked with us a few hours ago!” Friedman shouted.

“Sir?” said the voice on the bridge. “We haven’t had contact with another ship in at least a month. Is there… a problem, sir?”

“With me? No.” Friedman snapped off the com in frustration, then snapped it back on. “Bridge, give me a time and date check.”

“Certainly,” said the bridge officer, sounding relieved to have a question that could be answered. “It’s now 1730 hours. And we’re showing, let’s see, day six hundred fifty-two.”

Friedman stiffened. “Thank you.” He snapped off the com.

“What?” Legroeder said.

“The bridge is two days behind us. Your ship hasn’t arrived, as far as they’re concerned.” Friedman’s face was ashen. “This has never happened before. It’s definitely getting worse, isn’t it?”

Legroeder took a deep breath. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, it is.”

Chapter 31 Splinters in Time

“I would like to suggest,” Deutsch said, “that we forget about what day it is, or whether our ship happens to be out there right now.”

“Excuse me?” said Jamal. “Are you aware of what’s happening here?” You Kyber, his eyes seemed to say.

“I do understand,” said Deutsch. “We must assume that, at some point, our ship will reappear. When that happens, we should be ready to move.”

“Agreed,” Legroeder said. He had been running through various scenarios in his head, and the one that scared him the most was the one where they waited too long and found they’d missed their opportunity to escape. “It’s clear Palagren has a plan for attempting to fly out.”

“Great. What good does that do, if we don’t know what it is?” Poppy muttered.

“But we should be ready to act when we do find out what it is. And—” Legroeder focused inward for a moment “—the first question is whether we should try to fly the two ships out together, which could be very difficult and dangerous, or instead just get everyone over to Phoenix.” He turned to Captain Friedman, whose eyes he’d been avoiding. “I’m sorry, Captain. We must consider the possibility.”

Friedman’s face had turned even whiter, if that was possible. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispered. “We have passengers who are hiding, crewmen disappearing and reappearing…” He shook his head, and appeared to regain strength as he drew a deep breath. “I don’t think we could ever be sure we had them all. And some people would never willingly leave the ship.”

Including you? Legroeder wondered.

“We cannot assume that everyone will be rational about it.”

“Well,” said Deutsch, “I think we would all prefer to bring Impris out, if we can do it safely. Our people very much want to study it.”

Jamal’s voice was a flat twang of skepticism. “I don’t know how we’re going to get one ship, let alone two, out of this—whatever you called it—fold in the underflux.” His nostrils flared. Prove it to me, his gleaming white eyes seemed to say.

Legroeder couldn’t; he could only guess what Palagren had been about to say. But it had something to do with the hidden structure in the Flux. “The Narseil seemed to think that those dreams of yours might be an important clue in how to get out.”

Jamal shuddered. “Man—if you are trying to reassure me, that’s not the way to do it.”

Legroeder persisted. “I think the dreams may be trying to tell us something about the Deep Flux. And the more you can tell us about them, the better.”

Jamal glanced at his crewmates, shrugged, and began talking.

“…I don’t always see the same thing, but it’s always the same feeling—you know what I’m saying? That there’s something out there.” Jamal’s voice fell to a murmur, straining. “Something that… devours.”

Legroeder suppressed a shiver as his own memories surfaced. “Suppose,” he said, following a sudden hunch, “that you had to confront this thing—whatever it is. To get your ship out. Could you do that? Could you face it?”

Jamal shook his head. “I just want to get away from it, man.”

“But suppose it’s what’s keeping you here.” Legroeder’s voice became husky. “Suppose, to find your way past it, you had to make it real. In the net. Could you?”

Beads of sweat were forming on Jamal’s forehead.

Legroeder felt a sudden wave of dizziness, and leaned heavily on his elbows for support. (What’s happening?)

// We have contact with the ship. //

“Thank God!” he gasped.

“For what?” said Poppy, who had been sitting tightlipped since giving a terse description of his dreams.

“Our ship is back,” Legroeder said. He held up a hand. (Put me through.)

// We have a voice channel—//

“Phoenix,” Legroeder snapped. “Can you hear me?”

“Legroeder?” called Cantha. “Are you there? For a few minutes, it looked like you flickered out. Not you—the whole ship.”

“Tell me about it. Look, Cantha—we have a crew here that’s ready to do whatever’s necessary to get out.” Right? he asked with his eyes, of the Impris riggers. Jamal scowled, while Poppy looked as if he had been drained of emotion. After a moment, Jamal nodded reluctantly; then Poppy. Good. “I think I should probably get back over to Phoenix to plan with you and Palagren,” Legroeder said to Cantha.

Jamal sneered at that. “What, you’re going to cut and run now? And leave us here?”

“I’m doing nothing of the kind,” Legroeder said, with annoyance. “But we’ve got a lot of planning to do.” He turned in his seat. “Freem’n, what do you think?”

Deutsch raised his chin. “Okay—but how about I stay and work with these guys. That okay with you?” He surveyed Friedman and the two Impris riggers, who looked frightened at the prospect. “Flying out of here is going be a real bitch, you know. Anyone else think formation flying, through instabilities and quantum fluctuations, might be hard?”

Poppy squinted hard at him. “You’ve got those—” He jerked his chin at Deutsch.

“Augments? Yes. I do.” Deutsch raised a hand to stop Poppy’s protest. “Look—if you guys want your ship to fly out with us, then we have to link the two nets together. I only know one way to do that. That’s for Legroeder and me to link ship-to-ship through our augments.” Ignoring their reluctance, he turned back to Legroeder. “Yes, I think that’s probably the way to do it.”

Legroeder nodded, lips tight. This was bound to be unnerving to the Impris riggers. It was unnerving to him, too. “If it’s okay with everyone, I’ll inform Captain Glenswarg and head back over.” He rose. “Could someone show me the way out?”

Stepping into the airlock, Legroeder peered uneasily through the outer hatch window. The connector to Phoenix was still there, still intact. But one of the Impris crewmen on watch was saying in a trembling voice, “A few minutes ago, that whole thing was gone. The ship and everything. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Legroeder tried not to show the fear that was tying his stomach in knots. What if one of the ships winked out while he was in the connecting tube?

Before he could reconsider, he slapped the hatch control. The inner hatch hissed shut, and the outer hatch hissed open. He stepped out into the tube.

He’d forgotten about the weightlessness. His first step sent him tumbling into flight. With a gasp, he caught a handhold and brought himself up short. Behind him, the hatch slid shut with a thunk. He was alone in the tunnel between the two ships. Where were the Kyber escort crewmen who had brought him over? He tried not to look at the Flux swirling around him, just beyond the transparent wall of the tube.

He pulled himself along quickly, but it was impossible to ignore the Flux; it was a magnet, drawing his gaze outward, to its vapors of blood. He was breathing in short, quick gasps; he could smell his own acrid fear. Jesus. He had to get across before he went crazy, just get across…

*

…but there was a tapping sound that blurred his concentration, and a strange, ringing vibration in the air… it was becoming impossible to think…

*

The tapping was in the walls, all around him. He was in a shipboard compartment; he wasn’t sure for a moment which ship. What’s happening to me? Turning, he realized he was in an engineering section, and it didn’t look like the Kyber ship. He was surrounded by panels of controls, and the hulking shapes of enormous coils that hadn’t changed much in a hundred years, just enough to notice.

He was inside Impris’s fluxfield reactor, in one of the interstitial spaces… and he wasn’t wearing a shielded suit…

His vision was blurring, knees buckling; he couldn’t last here for long…

In the briefing room, Deutsch felt a sudden dizziness; in the same instant, his inner monitors told him that the connection to Phoenix had been lost again. He wondered where Legroeder was; had he made it back to the Kyber ship?

A com unit was chirping somewhere in the room, a voice rasping something about the other ship having flickered out again, and the connector tube…

Deutsch leaned forward and shouted, “Was Rigger Legroeder in that connector when it went out?”

“Gone, they’re just gone…”

The Flux was pulling at him as he tumbled. He was back in the connecting tube. Legroeder lunged for a handhold and missed, then finally grabbed another. What the hell was happening? Thank God that reactor had been at low power, or he’d have been fried.

He fought his way toward the hatch—then stopped. Wrong way. Damn. Turn around. The Flux tore at his eyes, a living, devouring thing. Had the fluxfield lines caught him, pulled him into a quantum fluctuation? His heart was pounding; he could feel the sweat as he struggled, hand over hand, down the tube toward Phoenix. The coils of the Flux were wrapped around the tube like a cosmic boa constrictor, squeezing. He gave a last mighty shove from a handhold, and crashed into the Phoenix hatch.

It was closed. He grunted, terror crawling up his neck as he groped for the switch.

What if it didn’t open?

What if the ship blinked away again?

He choked back a scream—suddenly realizing he might trigger the unthinkable with his own emotions. He was a rigger… he was a rigger… damn it, think like a rigger…

He pounded on the hatch switch. Open, for God’s sake—open!

The hatch slid open, and he tumbled into the airlock. He slapped clumsily at the inner switch, and the hatch slammed shut. He clung, gasping, to a handhold, hanging by his arms. Finally, as the inner hatch opened, he sank to his knees. Gravity had never felt so good.

His heart was still hammering as he stumbled onto the bridge. Palagren and Cantha were hunched over one of the computers. “That was fast,” Palagren said, looking up—and then his eyes narrowed as he registered the strain on Legroeder’s face. “Are you all right?”

“You look like hell,” said Captain Glenswarg. “Where’s Deutsch?”

Legroeder struggled to catch his breath. “He stayed. He wants to work with the Impris riggers, and try to fly it out with them. With us.”

Palagren’s gaze was dark. “That could be risky.”

“But can we do it?” asked Glenswarg.

“Captain—”

“Our orders,” said Glenswarg, “are to bring Impris out if we can. We want the ship, not just the people. We need every bit of information we can get from her.” He glanced at Legroeder.

“That’s right,” Legroeder gulped. “And from what Captain Friedman says, even if we tried to get all of her passengers over here, we probably couldn’t.” He explained.

“Well,” said Palagren, “it’s an open question: Can we fly the two ships out in formation? Or once we power up the two fluxfield generators, will the interaction between them and the quantum fluctuation throw the whole thing out of control?”

Legroeder remembered all too clearly what had just happened to him in the connecting tube. “First tell me how we’re going to get one ship out.”

“Ah.” Palagren scratched the base of his neck-sail. “We have developed a plan, Cantha and I. It will not be easy, and it involves a degree of risk.”

“Which is—?”

“On the one hand, that we lodge ourselves permanently in the underflux; on the other, that we disappear in a spray of neutrinos.”

“Oh.”

Palagren swung back to the console. “Here, let me show you what we have in mind. We have been looking at this business of the dreams, and we’ve found evidence of a physical feature that correlates with it…”

What the Narseil had found, from a careful mapping of the Flux lines of force, was an indication of what they called a deep quantum flaw, a fracture not just in local space as they had thought before, but in the primordial fabric of spacetime itself, situated beneath even the present level of the Deep Flux. Though they could not say much about its size or extent, they believed it was the source of the fluctuations that had drawn Impris and Phoenix into this trap in the underflux. It was entirely possible that similar flaws were the bane of other ships lost in the Deep Flux, as well.

The influence of the flaw could be felt well beyond its actual location. This, Cantha believed, could explain the dreams of the riggers. They, of all the souls on the two ships, were the ones whose psyches were most directly exposed to the Flux. It was no coincidence that they shared the fears about, and possibly a subconscious awareness of, a great monster lurking deep within the Flux. “There really is a monster there,” Cantha said. “That’s why you’re feeling it.”

“In order to get out,” said Palagren, “we must locate the quantum flaw. The opening that brought us into the Deep Flux does not appear to offer an exit. To find another way, we must seek the point of origin of the openings…”

Legroeder listened in sober silence. The Narseil plan was audacious—and not a little desperate. They would try to make the ships sink deeper still—by suppressing even further the action of the nets, by bringing them to a state of controlled, meditative stillness. They hoped to accomplish two things: one, to reduce the dangerous interactions between the two ships’ fluxfields; and two, to allow the natural eddies and ripples to draw the ships down into the lowest layers of the Deep Flux. There, they hoped, they would find not just a clearer view of the underlying quantum flaw, but also a pathway out.

“There are no guarantees,” Palagren noted.

Legroeder remembered the Narseil’s warning about vanishing in a spray of neutrinos. But he couldn’t think of a better idea. And remaining where they were was unthinkable.

Captain Glenswarg was already persuaded; Captain Friedman was a little tougher to sell on the proposal. By the time they reached him by com, on the Impris bridge, there had already been one more time dislocation aboard Impris. “How do we know it won’t make matters worse?” Friedman asked.

Before Legroeder could answer, Deutsch, on the other bridge with Friedman, pointed out that they were already on a nonstop course toward chaos; and surely it was better to try even a risky course of action than none at all. Before he could finish talking, Jamal stepped into view. His eyes were wide as he said, “You’re going to deliberately take us toward that thing that we’ve been dreaming about?” Turning, he gesticulated toward Poppy, who was standing still as a statue, fear frozen on his face.

“We talked about it before, remember?” asked Legroeder, thinking, it wasn’t much more than an hour ago.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think we were going to fly right into the thing’s face!” Jamal protested. “It’s not like we exactly agreed to it.”

“No, we didn’t,” Poppy whispered, behind him.

Legroeder drew a breath, wanting to close his eyes and go somewhere far, far away. “We talked about the fact that it might be necessary.”

Palagren stepped up beside him to speak into the com. Jamal’s eyes grew even wider at the sight of the Narseil. “You are right, that this is a dangerous plan,” Palagren said. “But we know what will happen if we stay. The situation will grow steadily more desperate. We won’t have saved you; we will have doomed you, and us, to watching each other die… very slowly.”

“But—” You Narseil, Jamal seemed about to say. He didn’t complete the thought aloud.

Friedman faded out of the image, then reappeared. “If I may point out—we have watched people die here, and it is not pleasant.”

By now, they had all heard the story: the boy who in despair had poisoned himself with a fast-acting poison—or so he had thought. Due to the time distortions, he had died for almost a year, ship’s time. The captain had finally moved him to the bridge, where time seemed to move faster, to complete the process.

The two Impris riggers stood silent. They had no answer.

“I don’t know about you,” Friedman continued, “but I think a hundred and twenty-four years are enough. Let’s do it.”

Poppy and Jamal looked at each other, then at Deutsch. “Will he be flying with us?” Jamal asked.

“You can’t ask for a better rigger on board with you,” said Legroeder.

“He has those… things,” Poppy said.

Legroeder drew a deep breath. “Yes. And those things may be what enable us to get you out. Give him a chance. I think you’ll be surprised. Right, Freem’n?”

Before Deutsch could reply, Friedman said, “Consider it done. Riggers, make ready to sail.”

Poppy and Jamal frowned. But if they were tempted to argue, something in the captain’s expression persuaded them otherwise. One after another, they turned reluctantly toward their stations.

Departure had to await the engineers’ completion of their work on the Impris powerplant. Legroeder’s anxieties mounted with the delay, but they didn’t dare fly without ensuring that Impris’s flux-reactor and field components were properly tuned. Twice more, the other ship flickered out, leaving those on the Phoenix bridge holding their breaths. But when it reappeared the second time, they got the all-clear call from the Kyber engineers on Impris, and the riggers hurried to their posts.

As the rigger-station closed around him, Legroeder thought of how tired he felt, and how much he longed for a good night’s sleep. It was foolhardy to fly while exhausted. But it would be worse to wait while things deteriorated. (Whatever else you guys do, make sure I stay alert, okay?)

// Roger wilco, // he heard in reply.

Legroeder was joined in the Phoenix net by Palagren and Ker’sell, and Cantha in Deutsch’s place. They had decided that Cantha’s inexperience in the net was outweighed by his knowledge of the quantum flaw. Cantha would ride in the top gun position, as observer and advisor. Legroeder, while still in command of the net, would fly in his accustomed stern-rigger spot; Palagren was in the lead position, and Ker’sell was at the keel. If Ker’sell still harbored any suspicions about Legroeder, he was keeping them to himself.

In the Impris net, Freem’n Deutsch would be the commanding rigger. There had been some argument about that; the Impris riggers had not been eager to relinquish control. But Captain Friedman had agreed that it was the best way to fly the ships in formation—with Deutsch’s and Legroeder’s augments linked by flux-com.

Is everyone ready? Legroeder asked across the joined nets, as the connecting tube was drawn back to the Kyber ship. Deutsch murmured acknowledgment, as did the Narseil. Jamal and Poppy muttered ambiguously to themselves, probably trying not to show their fear.

We are disconnecting from hard-dock now, came the voice of Glenswarg. Riggers, you may begin your flight. As he spoke, the tethers were released and the ships were gently pushed apart by the forcefield bumpers. The two nets separated, and the connection between Legroeder’s augments and Freem’n Deutsch’s switched to a flux-com link.

Prepare to descend, Legroeder called. All riggers, begin to still your thoughts. Let’s start with a standard meditation. He drew a breath and let it out slowly, and allowed his vision to go to soft focus. Drawing on exercises from his earliest rigger training, he began to allow conscious thought to drain from his mind. Around him, the others were doing the same.

Through the connection Legroeder became aware of the Impris riggers jittering around. Relax, everyone, he called softly.

They began to form images, underwater at first. Legroeder exhaled, watching his breath bubble away. Reduce buoyancy… sink… This okay with everyone? As soon as the words were out, he realized that the Impris riggers were struggling.

I can’t swim! Jamal cried.

Startled, Legroeder let the image dissolve. Is this better? He spun forth an old standby for meditations: a hillside sprinkled with wildflowers. He reclined in the grass and gazed up into a deep cerulean sky. Fill it in however seems best to you.

That seemed to work better for Jamal and Poppy. Sighing, Legroeder closed his eyes halfway. He too was having trouble calming down.

// Would you like assistance? An alpha-field? //

(No, let me take it the same way as Jamal and Poppy. I need to know how they’re feeling.)

// Understood. //

He tried to let his thoughts go. Banks of pastel mist floated overhead, became clouds drifting in a cyan summer sky. What color sky do you see, everyone?

Ah, deep purple, said Palagren.

Blue, shading off to green. Deutsch.

Blue. Pale blue. That was Poppy.

I feel, said Ker’sell, as if I am back home, waiting for the rain to fall and bring the brinies up to the surface.

You are indeed relaxed, Palagren murmured, if you can think of eating at a time like this.

Legroeder let a small chuckle escape. He was beginning, just beginning, to let go of his anxieties. He glanced over at Impris, a ghostly silver presence on the hillside…

The other ship winked out.

// Loss of signal. //

He cursed. (Time fluctuation?)

// Most likely. //

Palagren seemed not to have noticed. Legroeder called to him and the Narseil looked around in puzzlement. What do you mean? Impris is right there. They’re starting to look a little transparent, though.

Legroeder stared, where the ghostly shape of the other ship had just been. All right, he said softly. If you see it, I’m going to count on you to keep track. As far as I can tell, it’s gone. He drew a breath and let it out slowly, thinking: It’ll come back again. Just believe that.

He had lost all semblance now of a meditative state. (Maybe you’d better give me that shot of alpha-wave, after all,) he muttered to the implants. An instant later, he felt himself calming down. He relaxed his grip on the stern tiller, allowing the ship to drift wherever the Flux wanted to take them.

There was only the slightest movement of cloud in the sky. He focused on his breath. Just be. Feel. He began to enter a deeper state of relaxation, and to let go of some of his deeper anxieties.

After what seemed a very long while, he realized that the ship was sinking.

It felt like a softening in the hillside, as if he were sinking into the earth, easing his way down into some subterranean kingdom where hidden thoughts and possibilities lurked, and invisible currents ran. He noted that his rigger-mates were in similar attitudes of meditation. As one, they appeared to be sinking into the image of the hillside; and now, beside them again was the ghostly presence of Impris. Overhead, the clouds were starting to move, to drift upward and across.

Movement.

Legroeder drew a slow breath. It’s working. Don’t stop now; just keep doing what you’re doing. The clouds were scudding overhead now. They were leaving the area of doldrums. But going where? Did they know what they were doing? Could they control their fears?

Just the thought was enough to distract him. The calm was starting to slip away again; feelings and memories were bubbling up unbidden…

A memory of his old riggermate, Janofer—more beautiful than ever. Not now, of all times! Despite himself, he was becoming aroused at the memory, the memory of desire. He’d always been half in love with her…

Legroeder, the ghostly Janofer whispered, brushing back her long hair, brushing her lips on his neck. No, he thought, this isn’t right…

It’s very right, she whispered back to him, turning into Morgan Mahoney.

The sudden change left him breathless. Morgan… Morgan, how are… where are… have you found Maris yet?

Morgan turned to Maris, with a little smile that seemed to say, We hardly even knew each other. But if we’d had the time…

As Legroeder struggled to follow, he seemed to hear his mother’s voice echoing the familiar refrain: If you would take the opportunities life puts in front of you… from a woman who had taken perhaps one too many opportunities in the form of Legroeder’s father, who hadn’t stayed around to meet his son. Legroeder felt his old protest rising in his throat. But his mother was long gone; there was no one here to talk to now.

// Warning: this train of thought… //

Was not good. Letting his thoughts get away from him…

But Tracy-Ace/Alfa was here now, as he had somehow known she would be, as if her spirit had always been present, moving through the terrain of his subconscious. She was beckoning to him… her head cocked to one side, augments twinkling, watching him from a position in space, just out of reach. Hurry and come back, she said softly. We have a lot to talk about.

Yes. Yes! But first they had to get back…

In the net of Impris, Deutsch had been laboring to match his efforts with those of his crewmates over on Phoenix. He was leading Poppy and Jamal in a maneuver that ran counter to everything they had been trained to do. He wanted them to suppress their inputs; let themselves flow; allow the ship to drift like a cork into a whirlpool. He wanted them to float helpless toward a terror hidden deep in the Flux. So far, he’d been keeping their input to a minimum—for all practical purposes flying the ship himself.

For Deutsch, it was old hat to drift in the Flux; he’d done it as a Kyber raider countless times, like a predatory sea creature camouflaged as seaweed. But to Poppy and Jamal, it was unthinkable. They didn’t trust him or this plan of falling toward their worst nightmare. They hadn’t yet refused an instruction, but they were like two kettles about to blow their lids.

Gentlemen, if we’re to stay with Phoenix, we need to follow her precisely. Which means—

We’re clear on what it means, said Jamal, in a mutinous tone.

If we go limp the way you want us to, Poppy said stiffly, how are we going to keep from falling right in?

Deutsch drew the net more firmly about himself, thinking, we sure won’t fall in if we stay stuck here in the underflux. Phoenix had already flickered away for a couple of minutes; now that it was back, he didn’t want to lose it again. But when things got more energetic, he wouldn’t be able to manage Impris alone.

He was not going to win this by arguing. He spoke to his augments. (Bring up some alpha-wave; amplify and broadcast it into the net.) On further reflection, he decided to add music, and chose a selection from his augment archives, something soothing.

What’s that—hospital music? Poppy asked, with thinly disguised annoyance.

Well, damn, Deutsch thought. It had always worked on the riggers in the raider ships. Maybe musical tastes had changed more than he thought. He riffled through his play list and tried something different, with a little more bass beat and movement, and some horn. It wasn’t as soothing to his ears, but he could manage. Better?

First Poppy, then Jamal shrugged. Deutsch kept an eye on them, and after a few minutes they began to relax. Now, if they just unwound enough for the alpha-waves to start having an effect…

The silvery shape of Phoenix shimmered; it began to sink into the hill of mist it was resting on. Deutsch nudged the alpha-field up a little more.

As the net of Impris grew calmer, Deutsch thought he felt the tug of the lower underflux, pulling them downward also.

Have to get back.

Heaven and sky. Legroeder had gotten so absorbed in the vision of all these women, like a testosterone dream, that he’d nearly forgotten what he was doing. He was in the net of a starship, trying to fly out of an impossible situation.

Gazing through the fading image of Tracy-Ace, he saw myriad stars. The ship was falling through space like a stone now. Around him, the Narseil riggers were deep in meditation; only Cantha seemed alert, and Cantha wasn’t actively influencing the net. He looked scared, actually. Everything okay? Legroeder murmured.

Cantha’s neck-sail was quivering; his eyes were darting downward, and back up again. Thank heaven you’re conscious, he said. Look down there.

Legroeder looked—and for a moment, had trouble drawing a breath. Below them, through the faint glitter of the net, he saw the starry darkness change to just plain darkness… and far down, embedded in the deepest part of the darkness, was a writhing thread of fire.

The quantum flaw? he whispered.

They were falling toward it like a body tumbling from a cliff.

I think we’ve left the dead zone behind, said Cantha. He looked at his fellow Narseil. Should we disturb them?

Yes! Wake them! Do whatever you have to. Legroeder wheeled around. Where is Impris?

Far off to the port side, he saw the other ship, tumbling and twinkling. They should bring the two ships back together while they still could. He needed help. Palagren! he shouted. Snap out of it!

The Narseil rigger was slowly turning his head. His neck-sail was glowing a delicate yellowish green along its outer rim; the glow faded as his eyes focused. By the deeps, he sighed, that took me farther than I expected. Were we in entirely separate meditations?

I think so, Legroeder murmured. But never mind that. Impris is over there—he pointed to the tiny, distant ship—and we’re falling fast, toward that. He pointed down, toward the malevolent light of the quantum flaw. It had grown in the last minute.

Palagren gasped. We’ve succeeded!

I think so, Legroeder said. But what the hell do we do now? He felt Deutsch connecting with his implants, asking the same question.

Cantha turned from rousing Ker’sell. I’ve been searching for Flux currents leading away from the flaw.

And? said Palagren.

What have you found? Legroeder demanded.

Cantha had links set up to the bridge sensors, and now they flashed a rippling series of lines across the darkness of the Flux below. The lines spiraled and spiked as different measurements were highlighted; it was difficult to discern an overall pattern. But one thing Legroeder did not see was anything like a path emerging from the vicinity of the flaw, a path that would take them away from it.

This isn’t working the way we’d hoped, is it? Palagren asked softly.

Legroeder squinted downward. Do we have any idea what lies inside that thing?

I imagine, said Cantha, almost casually, that it bears some resemblance to a singularity.

Legroeder felt his heart stop. He swallowed and peered across at Impris, still twinkling at a distance. They were both still falling, the thread of light growing beneath them. Palagren, having roused Ker’sell from his trance, was stretching his arms into the invisible streams like a high-diver.

I really had hoped it would all become clearer once we approached the quantum flaw, Cantha muttered, adjusting the sensor-displays.

Legroeder tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. Do you have any more data? Anything at all?

I’m trying, but I—wait, let me do something.

Legroeder waited, for an endless couple of heartbeats.

Cantha made another adjustment, causing a sudden change as all the space around them suddenly filled with what looked like a blue Cherenkov glow. Can you see it better now?

Unfortunately, Legroeder could. The space around them had suddenly taken on a discernible shape and form. Now he could see all the streams of movement in the region. They were all flowing, twisting, spiraling… all in one direction.

Toward the quantum flaw.

Into the quantum flaw.

Chapter 32 Sailing the Quantum Flaw

What the bleeding hell are we doing? Poppy screamed shrilly, deafening Deutsch. You aren’t taking us into that thing!

No choice, Poppy. That’s where we’re headed.

No-o-o-o!

Deutsch cut off the music and jacked up the alpha-field. It’s the only way. You’ve got to forget the dreams. Those are your fears speaking.

Jamal shouted, You’re damn right my fears are speaking. And they’re saying, don’t go into that thing!

Deutsch called on a series of authority-routines to deepen his voice and projection. We can’t NOT go into it. The question is, are we going to fly in like riggers, or drop like stones? GENTLEMEN, I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE! His words rang in the net like a gunshot across a valley.

Jamal’s voice was muted, frightened. You don’t suppose the dreams were telling us we have to go meet it, do you, Pop? You think Legroeder mighta’ been right?

Deutsch held his breath, as Poppy wailed wordlessly—and after gulping a few times, finally calmed down enough to say, You really think so—?

Maybe. ’Cause we’re goin’ down, anyway, said Jamal. Shall we go out in glory?

Deutsch began to breathe again. Whether it was his words or the calming effects of the alpha-field, the two riggers seemed to be finding the foothold they needed to climb out of their hysteria. Excellent, gentlemen. Now, let’s see if we can get this ship under control…

If they were going to do anything, they would have to do it fast, Legroeder thought. The quantum flaw was a lot closer now, their movement toward it visible to the eye. Cantha—are you getting any information on what to expect?

Pretty fragmentary, Cantha said from the top gun position. But I believe the flaw has a greater than infinitesimal aperture, which I take as a hopeful sign.

Jesus, Legroeder thought. If that’s what you call hopeful…

It may be, said Cantha, that we can fly through it. It’s possible that the flaw itself is the exit path we’re looking for. I don’t see any other hope.

Legroeder blinked in fear. He turned to Palagren, who was watching the growing thread of fire. Let’s see if we can close the range with Impris.

Are you in contact with Freem’n? Palagren asked.

Legroeder could hear little sputters of static from his implants. He shook his head as he asked, (Anything—?)

// Getting stronger fragments of transmission now… //

The net flexed alarmingly as Palagren stretched it, trying to find a shape that would give them better control. It was like trying to steer in a waterfall. But if they could at least converge on a course with the other ship…

Let’s see if we can reach across, link the nets again, Legroeder said.

At that moment, his implants found their signal lock, and he felt sudden input from Deutsch’s streaming in. (Freem’n—can you hear me?)

(Right here. Are we going down into that thing, then?)

(We seem committed. Cantha thinks maybe we can go through it and out. Otherwise we die. We should go in formation or God knows where we’ll be scattered. Can you extend your net toward us?)

(I’ll try. Let me see if—hey, watch it, Poppy!) Deutsch’s voice suddenly went elsewhere.

Legroeder swallowed hard. But he saw a tendril of light stretching out toward them from Impris.

Legroeder focused on flying Phoenix, as Palagren and Ker’sell stretched their end of the Phoenix net toward Impris. It was still too long a reach. But the ships were drawing closer. Could they link in time?

Below, the quantum flaw was growing faster than ever, its diamond-white glare brightening. Legroeder clicked in a filtering routine and peered at the flaw through darkened glass. If they were going to fly headlong through it, was there any way to control the outcome? Was it all up to Nature and the structure of the flaw? Maybe not. This was the Flux, and if there was any chance of influencing their passage by changing their entry, it was now or never.

Legroeder felt a tremor, and looked up to see a tenuous link between the two ships. Palagren and Ker’sell were slowly reeling in the joined net.

Cantha spoke up. I recommend going in one after another. These readings are all very strange, my friends. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I feel it’s going to be interesting.

Interesting!

If you can’t hold it together, Cantha called to Deutsch, then fall in behind us and break contact just before we enter. Try to follow as precisely as possible.

Are you going in and leaving us here? Poppy screeched.

No one’s leaving anyone, Cantha answered. But our time perceptions may give us a better chance to find the way.

I approve of your plan, said another voice. It took Legroeder an instant to recognize Captain Friedman. He had almost forgotten about the captains. Not that any orders from them could make much difference at this point.

Everyone prepare, Legroeder called, to enter the quantum flaw.

From somewhere deep within the strained fabric of the net came the rumbling voice of Captain Glenswarg: Permission granted. Godspeed, gentlemen…

The quantum flaw dominated the sky now, nearly encircling them. It was no longer a smoothly curved line, but a finely jagged thing, fractal in nature. Deep within Legroeder’s implants, a furious analysis of the flaw was taking place. Was it a relic of the primordial universe, like a cosmic string of normal-space? It was a discontinuity in the structure of spacetime, for certain. One moment, it looked like an opening across half the universe; the next, it was a one-way passage into oblivion.

The answers would soon become clear.

With Impris swinging around behind them, the joined nets were becoming more difficult to control. The attraction of the flaw was beginning to fluctuate as they drew near. Were they feeling the effects of its fractal shape?

Cantha looked increasingly worried. He peered across the net at Legroeder, his face lit by the ghostly glare of the quantum flaw. Uncertainty-readings are off the scale. Even if you find a way to maneuver, I can’t give you any guidance on a course.

Legroeder nodded.

The fractal nature of the flaw was becoming increasingly pronounced, as finer and finer details of jaggedness came into view. Would their passage be determined by how they intersected with those jagged elements at the boundary? How could he possibly control that? But there had to be a way to influence their passage. It was not a matter of evidence, but of faith.

The Narseil were peering this way and that. What were they seeing in the tessa’chron? His own sense of time and reality was singing and twanging like a violin string. If any of you sees a way through this, don’t be shy about telling me. Freem’n—can you still hear me?

Like you’re at the end of a tunnel. You ready to go through?

Ready, Legroeder lied. He could feel the other ship pulling from side to side like a boat in tow. It’ll be soon now. If we get separated going through…

I’ll be looking for you on the other side. Tell Palagren to have one of those Narseil beers ready for me.

Yah, said Legroeder, wishing he could think of something more to say.

Palagren suddenly exclaimed, By the Three Rings, would you look at that!

And then the bottom fell out from under Legroeder, and he could feel the net suddenly stretching ahead like a spiderweb in a breeze, and one particular fractal angle in the flaw blossomed. And in a single, strangely prolonged instant of time, the flaw yawned open and swallowed them.

The net was turned inside out. The Narseil voices distorted into a sound like an electronic malfunction, and Legroeder’s stomach went into freefall. His head felt distended like a child’s soap bubble. As he brought his gaze around behind, to where Impris was following, he glimpsed a flicker of silver and a crazed opening in the sky. He heard Deutsch’s voice—a heart-rending shriek, tearing off into silence. Then the jagged opening closed, with a blinding flash that billowed out in slow motion.

That had been… Impris… enveloped by the blinding flash.

Legroeder cried out: Frrreeemm’nnn… Faarrrraaeeeemmmmaaauuuu…

His voice was incomprehensible, even to him. Focusing inward, trying to reconnect with Deutsch through his implants, he found instead an enormous inner vista of space, spangled with stars and galaxies. He tried to draw breath; he could not; dizzily he searched for the implants; they were circling him like flickering stars, doing he knew not what. There was no connection left with Impris.

His vision ballooned out again. Where the flash had been there was now a coiling darkness, webbed with lines of force.

Dear Christ! he whispered, and his voice moaned out into the net, joining with the incomprehensible groans of the Narseil. Had they just watched Impris die?

Palagren’s arms were stretched out, distended and transparent; all the riggers were turning transparent. All of their voices were dying away; but new sounds were rising…

*

An impossibly deep rumble… a thrum of incredible power… and, it seemed, sadness. Legroeder was hypnotized, unable to turn his attention, as the thrum filled with deeper and deeper harmonics. It was a choir of unimaginable size and proportion, a choir of space and time, and yet seemingly almost a living thing.

Was he hearing the shifting and creaking of the very fabric of spacetime itself? He was stunned, awed, terrified. For a moment, he wondered: was he even still alive? The quantum flaw could have wrenched them apart into constituent particles, puffing them out of existence in a cloud of neutrinos and gamma rays. Were these the dying thoughts of a haze of neutrinos, soon to dissipate like the morning dew?

They had lost Impris. Deutsch. Legroeder wanted to experience all that he could before he too vanished. Maybe it was pride. Or longing. Or grief. Or stubbornness. He focused all of his being on trying to perceive the sounds that welled around him. If only he could form a picture from them.

As if in response, coiling out of the darkness came distorted lines of force, turbulent traceries of fire, the body of the quantum splinter, surrounding them. Before them stretched a long, jagged avenue of fire and darkness, reaching out into the deeps of space… from infinity at one end to infinity at the other.

He stared at it and thought dumbly, it’s either the road to Heaven or the road to Hell…

*

He viewed its majesty through sound, an embryonic music of the spheres, heartbreakingly mournful. But this was not just the music of a handful of stars and star clouds. This was something very different, something far, far greater…

…wheeling majestically in space…

…enveloped by the sound of an expanding universe…

…very close to the instant of its origins… the sound of an infant spacetime continuum struggling to establish itself in the… place?… time?… where there had been no place, no time, nothing at all.

Through his astonishment, Legroeder knew… if he could reach out just a little further, he might hear the sound of the Genesis Moment itself. There was a sound coming at intervals: a great CLUNGGGG ringing through the choir of origins, like a vast bass string being struck with percussive force. He thought he knew what that was: fractures forming in the expanding continuum, splinters, flaws in space and time… fractures forming in the deep quantum structures of reality.

How he knew all this, he did not know. But he was aware of the perceptions of the Narseil overlapping his own, like layers of transparency. What they saw, he saw, in shimmering shadows.

And in his head, the implants were furiously recording.

*

Before him now was a broad ribbon of fire, reaching jaggedly, with streamers and fractal fingers, in both directions. It was not simply a blaze of light through a fracture, but something roiling with inner chaos and change, like a long window into the surface of a sun. It hurt the eye to behold; something about the perspective was all wrong. This was not Einsteinian space or even Chey-Kladdian… it was something different…

And then he knew what it was. This was the heart of the temporal discontinuities. This aspect of the flaw stretched through time rather than space, deep into the past at one end, and impossibly far into the future in the other. Stretching toward its birth… and its death.

The birth and death of the universe?

Legroeder was dumb with awe and terror, gazing down a rent in spacetime that stretched from one end of existence to the other. Would he next gaze into the face of God? Surely he would fall dead even if the flaw itself did not kill him…

But stirring in him now were other strange and wonderful and frightening emotions, emotions not human; and yet contained within them were human feelings—joy and determination and rage and reverence. It was the Narseil emotions; they were seeing this as he was—the terrible beauty and peril of the quantum flaw, the groans of birth and death, linked together in a single instant.

It was changing, though, sparkling at the edges, splinters of light streaming out into infinity… and at the same time, turning his thoughts inside out…

*

Visions of places he had been… present… past… future… Outpost Ivan… DeNoble… Maris and Jakus and Harriet… his mother carrying him as a small child, crying, in a shopping valley on New Tarkus… Tracy-Ace/Alfa standing with YZ/I, proposing a mission… in flight, speeding toward fabulous clouds of stars…

All these images gathered and then blew away like smoke, leaving him staggered by the vastness around him, the power of cosmic creation. What meaning could his existence have here, where elemental forces flowed like rivers? What possible influence could he have?

Insignificance.

The word flickered in his awareness like a sparkle of light at the boundaries of infinity. It danced, twinkling, along the great ribbon of light…

*

It was, Palagren knew, the most astounding thing he would ever see, the quantum flaw stretched out in multicolored glory: at one end the past, dwindling into the deepest infrared, and at the other end the future, vanishing into an ultraviolet diamond. The present loomed in a golden haze, within which possibilities danced like motes of dust against time and space.

Among the possibilities, Palagren saw a precious few that contained images of himself. He felt unutterably lonely as he glimpsed those. How could a single Narseil matter in the face of such cosmic history?

Something tattered was billowing around him; it was the rigger-net, coming undone. Electroquantum technology did not work well here; and yet something had been holding the net together. But if it wasn’t the fluxfield generators…

Palagren saw the net quiver, as though in response to his uncertainty. And then a fragment of the Wisdoms echoed in his thoughts:

“The Whole survives in unity with the One, and the One with the Whole. In all of the Rings, nothing can exist apart from the Circle except that which would break it… the Destroyer…”

The Destroyer…

The quantum flaw?

Or his own doubt?

Palagren drew a breath and stretched his arms wide, and turned his will toward holding the net together…

*

Who are these beings that you are mindful of them…

The question sparkled in Legroeder’s thoughts like a sunbeam through a window; it was a line from an ancient human text… but he hadn’t heard it from a human, had he? It had been Com’peer, the Narseil surgeon.

But hadn’t he heard it somewhere else, long ago? The memory was beginning to come:

What is man that you are mindful of him?

That was it: an earlier form. A poem, or a psalm. But what did it mean?

Skating across the sea of spacetime, his thoughts spun around, and the word “insignificance” twinkled back to face him. He laughed suddenly, and then cried. Who was he, what was he, to be here in the midst of this—surrounded by a shimmering net that was beginning to come apart like an old spiderweb?

The net… if they couldn’t hold it together, they would cease to exist.

What is man—?

He was man, human, individual—like his fellows, and yet one of a kind, unique. Did that matter, his uniqueness?

He gazed into the sea of eternity, churning with chaos and uncertainty, and thought perhaps it did matter, very much so, right now.

*

To Palagren, the waves of uncertainty brought hope. Hope for the integrity of his own being, and of the net itself. He thought of the old human story: Schrodinger’s cat in the box, its life or death decided by a single quantum event. And more than that, the life and death coexisting in one; it took the glance of an observer to force reality to crystallize.

Just as a rigger’s thoughts forced the uncertainty of the Flux to transmute into the desired form…

That’s it, Palagren thought. We must see ourselves holding the net together… finding our way through…

*

Around Legroeder, the net was twanging out of tune as it shredded. He was aware of the thoughts of the other riggers, but all in a jangling chaos. He was in a sea of consciousness, struggling to pick out the voices closest to him. He had to; only they, together, could hold the net together…

Was it even possible to contest infinity this way?

Why shouldn’t they? If quantum events could link across spacetime—why not their own thoughts reaching out to critical points in this zigzag ribbon of spacetime? Perhaps they could even steer themselves through a window of their choosing in this cosmic chaos.

It came to him in a rush of understanding as he gathered the net around him like an enormous billowing bubble, and pulled it in close… and peered down and out through the beautiful and mysterious ribbon of fire, looking for the place to fall through… first riggers to sail the quantum flaw…

Alongside him, Palagren did likewise… and at last, following their lead, Cantha and Ker’sell.

*

And fire blossomed around them, filling the net with a cosmic glare…

Chapter 33 Hunted

It was the damnedest thing.

With the other riggers and crew on KM/C Hunter, Jakus Bark had been keeping an eye on the intermittent signs of the snark, Impris—mostly just the occasional ghostly glimmer on the deep-layer instrumentation. Every once in a great while the riggers in Hunter’s net caught the even more ghostly glimmer of the actual ship, or heard the low, mournful trill of its distress beacon. They followed it relentlessly as it wandered on its erratic course, presently taking it back toward Golen Space. But lately, the readings just hadn’t seemed right. It was as though something were disturbing it in its ghostly flight. And now…

Jakus strained to focus into the distance. What the hell is that over there? he asked his co-riggers, pointing down through the gauzy layers of the Flux. There was something in those layers that looked like a ship. But it didn’t look like Impris.

Another ship? said Cranshaw. It looks like another ship!

Don’t it just, Jakus breathed. What’s another ship doing down there? That was not a layer of the Flux where any other ship should be. How would it even get there? Jakus called on the bridge com, What are you guys gettin’ on the deep-layer, thirty down and twenty t’ port? Do you see what we see?

As he waited for an answer, Jakus tried to adjust the image. Now the ship was gone, like a puff of vapor. But there was no question he’d seen it. Right in the fold haunted by Impris. And so had Cranshaw and the others.

This is really strange, said Nockey, from the bridge instrumentation crew. We’ve lost it now, but there was definitely another ship there for a few seconds. Not in our layer. Down there with the snark. Someone call Captain Hyutu.

Yah, said Jakus. I wonder if someone else got lost like Snarkie. Maybe we’ve got two of them now. He chuckled at the thought. Even as one who thought this was a pretty wimpy way to snatch targets, it was amusing to think of another lure just dropping into their laps.

We’re trying to refine the signal, said Nockey. Maybe we can get some kind of an ident on the thing. The captain will love it.

Yah, said Jakus, settling back into watchful mode. He checked the time. He’d be going off shift soon. If the normal pattern of sightings held true, that was all the excitement they could expect for a while.

By all accounts, nothing new had happened in the meantime, but when Jakus stepped into Captain Benadir Hyutu’s office before his next shift, Hyutu was scowling. That in itself didn’t mean much, since Hyutu had generally the disposition of a Kargan rattler; but it didn’t take long to deduce that the captain was even more displeased with life than usual.

“What’s wrong, Ben?” Jakus asked, dropping into a seat across from the captain. Having known Hyutu since the old days on the L.A., he allowed himself more familiarity than most of the crew.

Hyutu’s right eyebrow twitched fiercely. The old man was a stiff prig, anyway—and under strain, his augments tended to go a little flaky. Jakus was sure it was some kind of a malf, but Hyutu refused to have them looked at. “You see the report on that sighting?” Hyutu said sharply.

Jakus shrugged. “I’ve been off duty. Why, is there something new?”

Hyutu’s face tightened with disdain, which was a good trick with that eyebrow still going. He muttered something under his breath that Jakus couldn’t quite hear, then grunted, “Bark, that’s why you’re never going to get ahead in this organization. An ambitious man is never ‘off duty.’ ”

Jakus shrugged at the rebuke. He hated it when Hyutu got on his high horse. He’d been like that even back on the L.A., before any of them were pirates. But it had gotten worse since Hyutu’d become an augmented captain in the KM/C navy. Still, the man was a powerhouse, and Jakus had good reason to stay loyal to him. “Okay, okay—so what did they find out?”

“You tell me. They got some readings on that ship you saw.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Kyber, Hyutu said impatiently.

Jakus stared at him, stunned. “Kyber?”

“Not just Kyber.” Hyutu turned away for a minute, rubbing his eyebrow. He swiveled back. “It looks like it’s one of Ivan’s.”

Jakus whistled.

“I presume that means something to you? You’ve paid that much attention, anyway?”

“Of course it means something,” Jakus said defensively. He didn’t actually know much about Ivan, but he knew KM/C and Ivan together spelled bad blood. Not that anyone ever briefed him on this stuff. “I work to find out these things,” he added. “We and Ivan don’t like each other. At all.”

Hyutu almost smiled for the first time. “Don’t like each other. That’s one way to put it. How about, what other Kyber boss’d be—if I may be vulgar for a moment—asshole enough to mess with Impris when it’s not his turn.” Hyutu paused, and for a moment actually broke into a grin. “And I can’t think of anything that would make Carlotta smile more than for Ivan to get caught out here with his genitalia where they don’t belong.” He chuckled, and his other eyebrow started twitching.

Jakus frowned. “What d’you think they’re up to? Some kind of sabotage? Maybe they got caught by accident.”

“Well, what do you think? Why else would they be sneaking around out there? Of course, they’re probably regretting it now. They’ll never get out, any more than Impris did. But if they do…”

Jakus waited.

For a moment, Hyutu looked like a cruise ship captain getting ready to make nice with the passengers. “If he does come out again?” Hyutu’s phony smile broadened. “I’ll put a flux-torpedo up his shiny ass.”

Jakus grinned.

Hyutu’s sharp black eyes focused inward in contemplation. “Because I think it’s time,” he said, “that we made an example of people who interfere with the rightful order of things in the Kyber Republic. Wouldn’t you agree, Rigger?” He nodded decisively, not waiting for a reply. “Of course you agree. Now, let’s go to work, shall we?”

Jakus got up and followed Hyutu out of the office.

As they approached the rigger-stations, Jakus heard a shout from the instrumentation section. “We’re getting some activity out there! I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s pretty damn strange. Skipper, I think there may be something coming out of the underlayer!”

“Move it, people!” Hyutu snapped, clapping his hands. “Sound battle stations! This could be the fun we’ve been waiting for.”

The fire roared around Phoenix, a diamond inferno. They were falling, burrowing through the inferno, a storm of tangled thoughts enveloping them as intensely as the fire itself. For a moment, an eternity, it was impossible to tell whose thoughts were whose, and where any of them were going. We’re alive alive are we third ring second ring alive first alive burning can’t hold on…

Am I palagren?… legroeder…?

It was beginning to sort out. Legroeder saw images flickering explosively around him, little windows opening through the flaw, the Flux, maybe reality itself—not memories this time, but something else. The glimpses came so fast he could not absorb them instantly, but only a heartbeat or two after—

—an unfamiliar nebula, roiling with fire and starlife—

—where is that? did you see—? yes, I—

—a place of deep stillness, where the streams of space came to a stop—

—where we were? or are? a singularity? no, I don’t—

—a startling array of connections, flashing open like wildfire across the cosmos, light splintering off into infinity—

—everywhere? riddled with them, space is riddled—

—loops of movement, a circuit of motion in timelessness, an eternal damnation in which four hundred and some souls had been trapped—

—look, the openings—

—scattered like shards of light, hidden nexus points—

—through! we can go through!—

—in the shifting layers, a rigger ship, visible for an instant, then gone… mists of endless Flux…

—and somehow in the shower of images, Legroeder registered something about that glimpse of a ship; there’d been something Kyberlike about it; and he thought, One of the escort ships? Not quite right… and yet such a fleeting glimpse, who could tell. But it hit him again, just possibly they could exert some control over where they were going if not headlong into insanity…

And if that had been one of their ships? They’d lost contact way back before turning to the Sargasso, but what if—?

Focus on that ship! Focus on it! We’re riggers, damn it—riggers!

And even as he thought it, he felt them beginning to find a course through the twisted tangle of spacetime, through the unraveling skein…

And then the inferno suddenly blew itself out, and the ship fell through darkness for endless heartbeats, leaving the quantum splinter behind. Legroeder and the Narseil felt their minds and bodies and souls reconverging, knitting themselves back together again, becoming whole.

Phoenix fell like a meteor out of the folds of the underflux, and burst into the normal Flux with a blinding flash. The net was shaking like an aircraft on the verge of stress failure, the four riggers nearly paralyzed by the shock of the passage. Legroeder shouted hoarsely, Where are we?

And Palagren, I can’t tell!

And when were they? They’d touched the ends of eternity…

Cantha and Ker’sell cried out incoherently as they struggled to bring themselves back to the present, as they all strained to focus on the waves and currents of the Flux battering past them.

Legroeder took short, sharp breaths. We’re alive, he cried silently. Alive! For a fleeting moment, he tried to wrap his memory around the passage—the glimpse of eternity—but it was all coming apart in his mind, like a dream.

Gulping air, he took a quick look around in the net. There was still a net. But what about Impris? And where were they? The normal Flux, but where?

We’re out! We made it through! shouted a Narseil voice, Cantha’s. The voice, and the answering cries from Palagren and Ker’sell, were almost surreal after the bizarre melding of the passage. Find Impris! he shouted, and his own voice sounded flat and empty of resonance, no longer reverberating against infinity.

He looked around frantically—and suddenly remembered. Impris had been torn from them. Destroyed in the quantum flaw. Impris was gone. Freem’n Deutsch gone. No—! Legroeder started to bellow, then choked and could not finish the cry.

The com came alive again, sputtering. Riggers, report! Can you hear me? It was the captain calling through a hash of static.

Legroeder drew a sharp breath. Get hold of yourself. Let’s go, now; but felt himself moving in molasses. Captain, we’re here—give us a moment—he whispered to the com.

The net was a tattered shambles, barely functional, but power was starting to flow back into it now. Had they really held it together with not much more than the force of will in the quantum flaw? Palagren was starting to reshape the net from the bow backwards, and Legroeder took up the trailing threads to strengthen the stern position.

The com crackled insistently. Captain Glenswarg’s voice finally punched through. Legroeder, report! Where are we? Where is Impris?

Legroeder began to explain that he didn’t know where they were, that Impris had gotten separated from them. He couldn’t bear to say what he knew to be the truth. Gone! Dead! Neutrinos. Nothing left; all a terrible waste. We… got separated during the passage through the quantum flaw…

Yes, yes—what the hell HAPPENED then? I thought my head was going to explode! I couldn’t tell… I mean all of us… the whole crew was immobilized.

Legroeder struggled to explain. That’s… going to take time to figure out, Captain. It was… God, it was like… He could not piece together the words. It was as if his mind had stretched from one end of the universe to the other, but without getting any smarter…

All right, never mind that. Are you searching for Impris?

Searching for what—the neutrinos? Yes, of course, he whispered. But try to get as much instrumentation working as you can. We can’t see a lot right now.

Palagren glanced back and stared at Legroeder with an expression full of—what? Sorrow? Sympathy? Legroeder couldn’t tell. But this ship was hurtling through the mists of the Flux and there was no time to dwell on the question. They had to bring the ship under control, and find out where they were.

Another voice came on. This is nav. My first reading puts us south of the Akeides Nebula. I think we’ve come out near our original prime target, in the KM/C patrol area.

Oh, no.

Attention, everyone! barked a Narseil voice, interrupting the nav officer. It was Agamem, with the weapons and tactics crew. We’ve got a ship coming in fast, heading three-one-two- slash-three-seven. Not Impris. Not one of ours. Coming directly toward us.

No, Legroeder thought.

Glenswarg, with the comlink still open, called at once for general quarters. Have you got an ident on it? he asked the tactical crew.

Negative—but I think it’s Kyber—not one of ours.

Must be KM/C, then. Dammit, put me on the fluxwave to it. Am I on? There was some static, and then, Kyber ship, this is Kyber-Ivan Phoenix. We’ve just made an emergency exit from the Deep Flux. Who are you, please. Kyber ship, Kyber ship…

Legroeder and the other riggers were still trying to spot the other ship, but so far all they could see was swirling mist. They were moving fast; that quantum passage must have given them one hell of a kick.

I’ve got signs of weapons powering up, Agamem warned.

Legroeder blinked in dismay.

He heard a shout from the bridge crew, and then Glenswarg snapping: Flux-torpedoes incoming! Riggers, prepare for countermeasures!

Christ! Legroeder thought, still trying to locate the other ship. There it was, ahead of them. It had moved in fast. Three tiny twinkling lights were streaking through the Flux toward Phoenix. About four seconds to impact.

Riggers, hard to port! Captain Glenswarg shouted. Prepare to launch countermeasures… launch countermeasures!

No time for thought. Legroeder fell into a smooth motion with Palagren, Ker’sell, and Cantha. The net had returned to about half strength, and they warped it carefully, forming the ship into a stubby-winged aircraft. They banked sharply left, as a swarm of decoys shot out from the ship’s stern and billowed away like swarming bees. Some clouds passed between them and the incoming torpedoes, and for several seconds, they were blind to both the enemy ship and the torpedoes.

They dove, banked right, then left again, and climbed. As they passed around a cloud bank, there were two bright flashes behind the clouds, and concussions: thump! thump! Legroeder glanced back and saw one remaining torpedo, streaking in a long arc toward them. One incoming behind us! he called out.

Hold your course, Glenswarg said calmly. Then: Neutrasers—fire.

A bright streak lanced out from the tail of Phoenix, caught the torpedo, and destroyed it. The concussion wave shook Phoenix, but the riggers held tight and rode it out.

Damage report! Glenswarg called. Riggers, do you have the enemy in sight?

Negative, Legroeder replied. They had lost sight of it during their evasion. They brought Phoenix around now and passed beneath a puff of cloud…

Mother of—Legroeder recoiled as a dazzling white light split through the vapors far off to their right. What the hell is that? Legroeder squinted, shielding his eyes. Bridge, is that more incoming fire?

He heard a lot of shouting, with Agamem’s voice among them. But even as the captain replied in the negative, he saw the flash fading, and something streaking away—another ship, moving fast through the Flux.

Hell’s bells. Was that ship coming out of the folds of the underflux? Legroeder felt his implants suddenly buzzing back to life. It’s IMPRIS! Legroeder bellowed. He couldn’t hear anything comprehensible from the implants, but he could feel them seeking a connection. IMPRIS! IMPRIS! They made it through!

His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, as the other riggers and the bridge crew shouted at once. Glenswarg broke through finally. Have you got a lock yet on the enemy ship? Are you sure that’s Impris?

Yes! No—no lock. Palagren—Cantha—Ker’sell—any sign of that Kyber?

The implant link opened up, interrupting him, and he felt Deutsch at the other end of it, and he shouted silently, (Freem’n, you’re alive—are you there?)

Find me that Kyber! demanded the captain.

Still searching, called Palagren.

The reply from Deutsch was shaky and bewildered. (What—? What—? Legroeder? Is that you?)

(Yes, we—)

He was interrupted by a thunderous flash across the bow of Phoenix. The attacking ship—a Kyber raider twice the size of Phoenix—had just streaked out of the clouds, moving at tremendous speed. Had it missed them? Or was it on another errand now? It was arrowing straight for Impris, whose riggers were almost certainly dizzy and disoriented from their passage. The link with Deutsch was flickering out, probably interference from the attacker.

Captain, I had a link with Impris, but I’ve lost it! We’ve got to warn them! Legroeder shouted. Impris probably had no armament, and was certainly in no shape to deal with a surprise attack. (Freem’n!) he called urgently. (Impris! If you can hear me, flee for cover!)

An instant later, Glenswarg’s voice boomed out through the Flux, amplified by the net: ATTACKING SHIP, IDENTIFY YOURSELF! YOU ARE WARNED AWAY FROM OUR COMPANION! THIS IS CAPTAIN GLENSWARG OF KYBER-IVAN PHOENIX! He snapped to tactical, How soon can we get a torpedo off?

We’ve got problems here. Not for a few minutes, came the answer.

Legroeder drew a steady breath. Glenswarg was inviting a renewed attack on Phoenix with his challenge—but at the same time, he’d warned the captain and riggers of the starliner. Impris was already altering course, with slow, difficult movements.

Riggers, stand by for battle, Glenswarg ordered.

The attacker, dwindling in the direction of Impris, answered Glenswarg’s challenge with a sternward volley of torpedoes, streaking back toward Phoenix.

Legroeder and the Narseil hurled their ship at once into violent, evasive course changes. The Flux came alive suddenly with DROOM, DROOM, DROOM, the drums of a raider ship in full attack, and then the voice of the raider captain, booming through the clouds:

THIS IS HYUTU OF KM/C HUNTER! YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF A DESIGNATED HUNTING SPACE. YOU ARE INTERFERING WITH OUR MISSION, IVAN! EXPECT NO CONSIDERATION.

Legroeder choked. Hyutu! On the com from the bridge, there was an angry outcry. The captain was shouting instructions, but Legroeder barely heard him. The name was ringing in his ears, threatening to drown out all other thought.

Hyutu…

—launch countermeasures!

Legroeder, follow!

That last was Palagren, jerking him back to the present. Legroeder struggled to keep up with the Narseil on a barrel-rolling dive.

Hyutu—the murdering—!

Legroeder, move it! What’s the matter?

That bastard—Hyutu! he sputtered, late with his rudder movement.

Palagren had to compensate. What?

The bastard who betrayed the L.A.!

Worry about him later! Palagren shouted. Let’s stay alive!

The Narseil was right. They were straining the net with their diving and twisting. The torpedoes were sparkling closer, turning to match their turns. The countermeasures hadn’t worked—the torpedoes had adapted. Up and left! Legroeder snapped, suddenly seeing a way to do it. Palagren, give me the image!

Are you s—?

Do it!

In the blink of an eye, he changed the ship to a fluttering bat, blindingly quick and maneuverable. The image helped them fly the same way—darting up, sideways, down, wings flicking in a blur. Was Weapons ever going to get a shot off at those things? The spread of torpedoes swept around, following, gaining. But the torpedoes were taking the turns a little wider than Phoenix.

Stabs of light went out from Phoenix in a machine-gun burst, catching the lead torpedo. It detonated—thump!—and as the others were caught by the explosion, they went off, too. Thump! Th-kump! BM-BOOM!

Too close. The shock wave rippled through the Flux and hit Phoenix. The net shook and lost its hold, and the ship tumbled. The net was ablaze. Get it out! Get the fire out! Legroeder cried, trying to dampen the net. It wasn’t a literal fire, but energy was flooding through the damaged net and the feedback pain was incredible. It slowly subsided as they damped the net down and began to reshape it; and as they regained a measure of control, the pain became more tolerable. They were skidding in a slow turn now… coming back around…

We just lost our torpedo launchers, called a voice on the bridge.

And there was the Kyber Hunter, turning from Impris to loop back toward Phoenix.

Legroeder could not contain himself. Without even thinking about it, he amplified his voice and bellowed out into the Flux, HYUTU, YOU STUPID MURDERING BASTA-A-A-RD!

Jakus Bark’s blood was hot with fever, the fever of battle. The augments thrummed exhortation through his skull. The drumming that boomed through the net heightened his fever, and that of his fellow riggers. Most powerful of all, his own exultation bubbled up like a geyser of champagne, unstoppable. How long had he waited for this? How long to watch his ship belch fire and death? How long to watch KM/C triumph?

Jakus owed everything to Kilo-Mike/Carlotta. It was KM/C who had brought him from DeNoble, KM/C who beefed up his implants to make him a valued member of their forces… no longer a half-baked captive impressed into service, but a member of the force, who talked to the right people, and moved with the shakers and thinkers. KM/C had trusted him and put him to work undercover on Faber Eri; and when things had gone wrong there through no fault of his own, moved him right on to his next assignment. They’d put him where he belonged, in the net of a Kyber marauder. And now he had a chance to show his worth.

That Ivan interloper was hurt—it was obvious from the way she was maneuvering. Once the captain gave the word, they would put the final stake through its heart—but first they needed to complete this pass on the second ship that had come out. Find out who the hell it was.

A heartbeat later, Hyutu’s voice sounded through the net like a klaxon, and a curse: The ship is the snark. It’s Impris.

A murmur of dismay filled the net, led by Jakus. Their lure had been pulled out by Ivan!

We’ll find out how they did it later, Hyutu growled. Leave it here for now. Rigger Bark, bring us around to finish off that Ivan!

Jakus signaled his fellow riggers to come around for another attack dive. He heard a cry, echoing across the Flux—a shout of rage and defiance from the enemy. He grinned broadly at the outrage—and then, with astonishment, recognized the voice. It couldn’t be! Legroeder? Jakus gasped. Legroeder—here?

Stunned, he called to Hyutu, Captain! Captain, you aren’t going to believe this…

Right about now, Legroeder thought, they could have used some Free Kyber riggers in the net, to help them contend with these insane KM/C pirates. The net was straining with every maneuver. The Ivan riggers knew the ship better from a tactical standpoint, and knew the enemy, too. But there was no time to switch riggers. Palagren had Phoenix in the shape of a dashing, speeding fish, and they were fighting to make the ship live up to its image. But with the damage to their net slowing them down, Hunter had drawn inexorably closer, until their only means of evasion was to keep changing directions, twisting through clouds in hopes of shaking the enemy off.

Captain—any chance of getting a shot off soon? Legroeder called anxiously.

Launchers are still down, Glenswarg answered tightly. You’ve got to keep us out of their reach—or if you can’t do that, get us close enough for the neutrasers.

Legroeder acknowledged; they were spinning and turning, reaching the limits of what their net could do, but also forcing Hunter to maneuver tightly to follow. Ker’sell spotted an opening—and at his shout, they turned, and with several fast directional changes, shot perilously close to the enemy—exchanging neutraser fire as they flew past. Phoenix trembled, taking several hits; but it kept going. As the KM/C ship came around, Legroeder looked for damage, but saw little sign that their efforts against Hunter were having any effect.

He heard something—what was that?—his name echoing across the Flux: Rigger Legroeder… so good to see you again…

For a moment, Legroeder was speechless. It was Hyutu… calling out across the Flux to gloat. Legroeder bit his tongue to keep silent. Keep silent. But he couldn’t. Hyutu, you bloodsucking traitor!

Hyutu’s answer was a laugh—but Legroeder had no time to answer, because Palagren and Ker’sell had just dumped them into a spinning dive, away from Hunter, and Legroeder helped them by instinct alone. Glenswarg was snapping orders—among them, telling Legroeder to shut the hell up. But another new voice filled the net from the remoteness of the Flux, and again it was a voice that Legroeder recognized. Jakus Bark!

—really fallen into it this time, Legroeder. What did you think you were doing? There’s no way you’re going to get out of this one! Bark’s voice was utterly scornful.

You bastard! I thought you were dead! Legroeder whispered.

Did you think we were going to lie down and die? Bark said, and then burst into a roar of laughter. Well, guess who’s going to do the dying!

At that moment, the KM/C ship seemed to find a favorable new current, because it came overhead in a loop far too fast for Phoenix to follow and bore down directly down on the Ivan ship, like a hawk swooping on its prey. Legroeder and the others strained to maneuver out of its path, but they couldn’t fight the natural movements of the Flux, and this time the winds were against them. All they could do was fire their neutrasers futilely, and wait for the volley of torpedoes.

(Impris, get clear!) Legroeder called, his inner voice desperate, filled with despair at the thought of being killed by his traitorous old shipmates—and at the thought that they had brought Impris out only to be killed, too.

Bark’s laughter echoed. So long, Legroeder, baby-y-y…

Before Legroeder could think of a word to say, he felt a sudden shudder through the Flux and heard, K-B-BOOM-M-M!

And he heard Agamem cry from the bridge, Flux torpedoes—but they’re not coming at us!

K-B-BOOM-M-M!

There was a second explosion, and Legroeder kicked the stern of Phoenix around for a better look. He was astonished to see the KM/C raider targeted by a cluster of bursting flux torpedoes. Where the hell had they come from? Surely not from Impris. Then where?

The next voice was Jakus’s again—howling in a splutter of confusion and rage. The KM/C ship was taking a beating. But from whom? It was turning with evident difficulty—attempting, for the first time, its own evasive maneuvers. Hyutu’s voice screamed, WHO IS THAT ATTACKING US? COME OUT AND IDENTIFY YOURSELVES! Streams of neutraser fire radiated from Hyutu’s ship, seemingly aimed at random.

The only response was the glow of a converging swarm of new, incoming torpedoes.

Jakus blinked as he heard the warning cry from the other side of the net. The flickering glare of the torpedoes was almost hypnotic; there were so many of them, from several directions, but all converging on the same point.

On Hunter.

How could this be?

Captain Hyutu, what now? he whispered. His implants were savagely stoking his blood lust, but they couldn’t change reality. Hunter was pinned, trapped; nowhere to turn. His fury had nowhere to turn, either, except inward, on himself and his captain. You stupid bastard captain…

EVASIVE ACTION, YOU MORONS! EVASIVE ACTION! Hyutu screamed. COUNTERMEASURES AWAY! NEUTRASERS SHOOT! SHOO-O-O-OT—!

The captain’s voice shook with rage, and the riggers wrenched the ship into wild gyrations trying to shake the torpedoes. But it was hopeless; Jakus Bark knew it was hopeless even as his augments drove him onward, trying to save the ship.

The first wave of torpedoes loomed, their sparkle glaring against the Flux. Jakus let go of the net with a loud cry, heedless of his captain screaming, TURN, YOU IDIOTS, TURRRRNNN—! and Jakus felt a sudden terror and then an utterly insane release as he grinned out into the Flux, directly into the dazzling glare of the exploding warheads.

As the rigger-crew of Phoenix watched dumbfounded, the torpedoes converged on the KM/C ship and flashed with great pulses of light. Hunter’s net blazed like a torch, and a heartbeat later the entire raider ship crumpled inward, then exploded.

The BOO-O-OM-M-M reverberated with ghostly echoes from the clouds.

No one in the Phoenix net spoke. They could hear mutters of amazement from the bridge, as though Glenswarg were holding the com open, intending to speak, but too stunned to know what to say. Legroeder’s heart was pounding so hard, he could scarcely hear himself think.

What the hell was that? he whispered finally. Who was—?

Phoenix! called a voice, distant but strong across the Flux. This is Kyber-Ivan Freedom. Are you all right? A silver ship slipped out of the clouds high above the expanding debris field that had been Hunter. Had it been there all along?

My left nut, I’m glad to see you! Captain Glenswarg boomed. How the hell did you find us? Where were you?

Two other ships appeared—one from beyond and one from beneath the debris field. It was the escort squadron. They’d had Hunter bracketed; the bastard hadn’t stood a chance. The same voice answered, and there was laughter in it this time. Where were you is my question! We lost you halfway to the destination point. Did you change course?

Yes!—yes!—didn’t you get our transmission? Glenswarg’s voice was shaking with relief.

Got no transmission, said the other captain. We kept going and hoped we’d find you here. The next time we picked you up, it looked like you’d popped out of some kind of Flux anomaly—and then KM/C came out of nowhere and started shooting at you. It took us a few minutes to get in close enough to help.

Rings! muttered Glenswarg, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally he sighed, Thank you. Your timing couldn’t have been better.

You’re welcome, said Freedom. Now, did we or did we not see a ship that looked like Impris? I think it disappeared into those clouds.

Yes, where did they go? Legroeder thought, peering around dizzily. They’d been so busy staying alive, he’d become totally disoriented. He queried his implants; but the comlink was still down.

We’re here, called a new voice, breaking the momentary silence. We’ve been wondering if we should come out. Captain Glenswarg? It was Friedman of Impris.

Legroeder let out a great cry of relief.

Please come out now, answered Glenswarg. Let’s group up this fleet.

As Legroeder and his crew slowly brought their ship around toward the escort fleet, the long, stately shape of Impris emerged from a dense layer of cloud beneath them and rose to join the group. Legroeder felt the implant connection coming back to life. (Freem’n!) he cried silently. (Are you there?)

(We’re here. We’re here,) came the reply, like a whisper down the length of an acoustically perfect auditorium.

(Can you still fly? Are you in one piece?)

(Just barely, and more or less,) said Deutsch. (I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but somehow we came through the quantum flaw on your coattails. How did you do that, Legroeder?)

(I just thought like a rigger, Freem’n. I just thought like a rigger.)

At that, Deutsch began chuckling, softly at first and then louder, until the inside of Legroeder’s head echoed with his friend’s laughter.

The squadron formed up quickly around Phoenix and Impris, and the order was given to set course for Outpost Ivan.

Has it occurred to anyone that we’re all exhausted, and we need time for repairs? Legroeder asked Glenswarg, as he and the Narseil strained to bring the ship into formation.

Sure, answered the captain. We’ll do something about that just as soon as we get the hell out of here. Our friend the Hunter might have buddies, you know.

Ah, Legroeder said, not arguing. But oh, how he wanted some sleep!

The squadron, like a naval armada from some long-ago holodrama, rose slowly through the colored mists until the clouds scattered and cleared, and the smooth waters of a mystical, ethereal ocean stretched before them. The two ships in the middle, Phoenix and Impris, wobbled but held their positions. And as a grand, if battered fleet, they set sail for Outpost Ivan.

PART FOUR

Eternity waits at the crossway of the stars.

—Jorge Luis Borges

Prologue

Awakening

The Kyber agent turned from the briefcase console to peer at the comatose young woman lying in the bed. “Is she okay?”

“How the hell should I know?” his partner snapped, glancing down to check her sidearm. “I’ve got to go make sure the perimeter’s safe.”

The man scowled at his partner and squinted at the medical monitors attached to the captive woman. “I’m sure the perimeter’s fine. I need you here right now.”

“How do you know the perimeter’s fine?”

“Look, just trust the security system for five minutes, will you? The woman’s no good to us dead. This is a tricky operation, and I need you to monitor her condition. All right?”

It was not all right, his partner’s expression made clear. But she grunted and stepped close to the monitors. “She’s still alive.”

The Kyber nodded. He frowned at the captive’s skin color, which was pale, and checked her pulse. It seemed a little weak, but what did he know; he was no doctor. “All right,” he said. “Hang in there, Miss O’Hare. With any luck, this won’t kill you.”

He made a final check of the electrodes attached to the back of the woman’s neck, then returned to the console and, with one last hesitation, initiated the program. The data-collecting subroutines began running; it all looked good so far. But then, he wasn’t an implant programmer, either. For all he knew, he could be killing her.

Contacting implant, opening command kernel…

He watched, hands clenched, as the program moved through several increasingly invasive stages to the critical one.

Disabling autonomic intervention routines…

He held his breath.

Deleting command kernel…

He let his breath out slowly as the program completed its cycle and terminated. He checked the monitors. “All right, I guess we can let her sleep.” He had done what he could. Only time would tell if he had succeeded.

Voices jabbering. The hissing crackle of neutraser fire. Shouting billowing urgency, dragon’s breath of plasma, run run, no time. Struggling for breath, consciousness slipping away. A baby crying… why… mother, are you there? Is baby Jessica there?

Mother? Mother’s not here. She died ten years ago. And Jessica… a hundred light-years away.

Golen Space, fleeing Golen Space. What happened?

Sunlight pouring through a curtained window. Wood framework around the window. Wood?

Alien sun.

Any sun was an alien sun.

Her eyes blinked several times, then opened. Stayed open. Peering at the curtains.

Why curtains—?

Remembered running for her life. Leaning on Legroeder. Why Legroeder? They were fleeing… pirates in pursuit.

Maris groaned softly. She tried to sit up, and failed. Her head was on a pillow. She turned it slightly to look around. Where am I? she wanted to ask, but swallowed the words. Don’t talk yet; don’t know where you are. She remembered excruciating pain—and footsteps, pounding. Pursuit. Must hide. But where? Nowhere to hide.

She wondered if she could move now; maybe just a hand. Slowly, forcing every inch of movement, she dragged her left hand across her chest and brought it to touch the hurt on her right shoulder and neck. What was it? Neutraser fire… there was shooting… Probing under the loose fabric, she felt a spray-on bandage; and under the bandage, the ridges and bumps of a wound. At first there was no sensation from the touch of her fingers; then the fire flashed up her neck. She rasped in a sharp, agonized breath and lay trembling, clutching her arms together.

A wooden door to her right burst open.

She blinked, trying to focus. A man and a woman stood in the doorway, staring at her in astonishment. “You’re awake!” the woman said.

Maris struggled to find her voice. She couldn’t; couldn’t even swallow. Her throat was dry and cracked.

“Here, now,” said the man, pushing past the woman. “Don’t try to sit up, you’re not ready for that.” He stepped to Maris’s side and bent to peer at a medical monitor.

She tried to move her right arm and felt a new pain. She was tied to a monitor and a set of IV’s. Was she in a hospital?

The man urged her to lie still, and she didn’t argue; she was dizzy anyway. But not too dizzy to wonder, Who are these people? Had she made it away with Legroeder? Where was she? And where was Legroeder?

She tried once more to swallow, then heard the man send the woman for a glass of water. Good. Good. The water arrived, and the man lifted her head as she tried to drink. She sipped greedily, water splashing down her chin, soaking her neck. With a gasp, she sank back as the woman dabbed at her with a towel. “Take it easy, now,” the man was saying. “You’ve had a tough time of it.”

Tough time of it…

The woman was muttering something she couldn’t quite make out, and the man replied, “We really should get her seen by a doctor.”

“No doctor!” the woman said sharply.

“Look at her, Lydia. You can see she needs help.”

No doctors. Not a hospital, then. Maris listened with growing alarm. Where am I? What’s happened to Legroeder?

“What’s she saying?”

“Legroeder,” the woman said. “She’s calling for Legroeder. Her boyfriend. The one who skipped bail.”

Had she spoken out loud? No—you have it wrong. What do you mean, he skipped bail?

“Watch what you say, now she’s awake,” the man murmured. He leaned in closer. “Miss O’Hare—can you hear me?”

Maris drew a breath, and with an almost superhuman effort, shouted: “Where—am—I—?”

“She said something,” said the woman. “What’d she say?”

“I’m not sure,” said the man. “Miss O’Hare?”

She grunted in frustration and tried again, harder. This time words came out. “Where… am… I?” Her voice sounded harsh and unnatural.

“I think she said, ‘Where am I?’ ”

“Huh,” said the woman. “Don’t worry about—”

“Wait,” said the man, cutting her off. He moved around the bed, to where Maris could see him more easily. “Miss O’Hare, you’ve been in a coma for weeks. We finally managed to deactivate your implants—”

Implants. Of course, the pirates had put them in the back of her neck. How had she been able to escape? There’d been a plasma leak…

“—which were keeping you unconscious.”

She tried to focus. The pirates had told her that escape was impossible; the programming in her implants was like a knife at her throat.

“Damn near killed you, as far as I could tell. But I guess they were rigged to incapacitate, rather than kill.”

Maris strained. “Where—?”

“You’re in the North Country. Away from the city.”

Maris shook her head weakly.

The man finally seemed to catch on. “On Faber Eridani.”

Maris’s breath caught. “Faber—” She’d made it out, then. Made it back to civilization. Or had she? She squinted at the man and woman, and thought with a shiver, Why won’t they let me see a doctor?

“You’re safe here,” the man continued reassuringly. “You’re among friends.” He smiled and turned away.

Chapter 34 The Centrist Connection

“But Harriet—we can record the whole thing on VR and bring it to you here in the embassy. There’s no need to risk your going out.” Peter stretched his big hands out pleadingly.

Harriet fixed the Clendornan PI with her gaze. “I don’t want to see it on the VR, Peter. I want to see it in person. You can bring me right back when we’re done. But if I’m going to use this for a legal case, I need to know everything. How it sounds, how it feels, how it smells. And not through some damn electronic reproduction!”

The light in the back of the Clendornan’s eyes flickered as he gazed at her.

“Peter, I appreciate your concern. But I’ve got to do this.” Besides, if I don’t get out of this embassy soon, I’m going to lose my mind. How can such a beautiful place feel like such a prison?

Peter gave in at last. “All right. But at least let me talk to the embassy staff. Maybe they’ll let us travel in one of their vans. Less likely to be intercepted that way.”

“I knew you’d understand.” Harriet grabbed Peter’s arm. “Come on, let’s go find the assistant ambassador…”

All the way in the Narseil floater-van, Harriet found herself checking the security sensors, and peering back through the darkened windows to see if they were being followed. Her courage of an hour ago had evaporated. She sank back in her seat with a sigh. “Harriet, there’s no reason to think we’ve been seen,” Peter said, glancing back from the front seat.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she murmured. She glanced to her right at the tall form of Dendridan, the embassy attaché. He had come along to observe, as well as to lend diplomatic legitimacy to their use of the Narseil vehicle. Dendridan’s vertical eyes gleamed, but he said nothing.

Leaving the city proper, they glided through the northeast suburbs, past an area Harriet barely knew even though she’d lived in Elmira all her adult life. The Narseil driver followed Peter’s directions flawlessly, and twenty minutes later they were parked between two other vehicles in back of a peeling white wood-frame house.

“Stay here a moment while I do a check,” Peter said. He ducked out of the van, leaving Harriet with Dendridan and the Narseil driver. He reappeared a few minutes later, with one of his men. “The coast is clear. Let’s go inside.”

Leaving the driver with the van, they entered the house through the kitchen and made their way upstairs to a large bedroom that had been converted into a makeshift VR studio. There were cameras on tripods everywhere, and a large white screen across one wall. Peter introduced his assistants Norman and Irv, whom Harriet recognized from the earlier holo. There was no need to introduce Rufus the dog, who lay on a small cot, panting slowly. He was wired up like a marionette with optiwire feeds. The dog’s tail twitched when he saw Harriet—was it possible he remembered her?—but everything about him seemed in slow motion. “He’s under a relaxation field,” Peter explained. He cocked his head, studying the setup. “Downloading information from a dog is not as easy as you might think.”

“Oh, really,” Harriet said dryly.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow,” said the Narseil.

“Well,” said Peter, “since the data in Rufus’s implants was a direct memory feed from McGinnis, a lot of it isn’t necessarily in verbal form. Some of it’s visual, some of it’s sound and smell and touch; some of it’s pure emotion. To be valid in court, it must be read and interpreted by a certified intermediary.”

“One of your people?”

Peter shook his head. “We hire the Kell, who make this something of a specialty. I’ve brought one in from the city of Port Huron.”

“On the other side of the continent.”

“Right. She’s not well known here, but she’s one of the best.” Peter paused to survey the setup. “If everyone’s ready, I’ll go get her.” Peter disappeared into another room, while Harriet and Dendridan waited uncomfortably.

“Irv here’s the one who found Rufus, at the McGinnis place,” Norman said, nodding. Norman was a large man who seemed comfortable around the dog. Irv, on the other hand, was skinny and nervous looking. Harriet remembered Peter saying that Irv was afraid of dogs. Apparently he had gotten over his fear; he paused to scratch Rufus’s head as he made some adjustments to the hookup.

“Everyone,” said Peter, returning with the blue-robed Kell, “may I introduce the interpreter who will be assisting us today? This is Counselor Corellay. She is certified for Level-3 implant reading and Level-2 telepathic extraction.”

Counselor Corellay was just over a meter tall, with silken grey fur and a hamster-like face. Her eyes were black with bright silver dots slightly off-center. She nodded to the observers and then walked, with a rippling gait, across the room to the dog. She touched Rufus on the head and murmured to him for a moment. Then she turned. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Quadrocam?” Peter asked Irv.

“Ready.”

“Sensory feed? Data storage?”

“Ready.”

Peter nodded to the Kell. “You may begin your certification.” Corellay bent to examine the wiring attached to the dog. As she made her inspection, Peter explained to the Narseil, “We’ve made test tracings, but this will be the first court-certified reading. I’ll ask you and Harriet to sign off as witnesses.” Dendridan agreed, and Peter produced a small retinal scanner-recorder into which the two of them would make their attestations.

When Corellay was satisfied, she adjusted her own collar, which looked a bit like a cervical brace glinting with opticom processors. She stepped to the center of the room, in front of the white screen. Drawing a lightwand out of her robe, she faced Peter and the others. “Begin recording. This is Counselor Corellay of Kell, licensed to the courts of Faber Eridani in Port Huron. Here begins my translation of memory-data presently stored in the cortical implants of Mr. Robert McGinnis’s dog, Rufus…”

The formal preface went on for a while. Suddenly Corellay’s voice deepened. She raised the lightwand. “This is the record of Robert McGinnis. I may have only minutes left in which to live.” She waved the lightwand in a sudden blur in front of the screen. A sketch appeared in midair, first in black and white, then color. Harriet marveled at the speed of the rendering while focusing on the image: a room with flames licking through the walls and a bank of consoles glowing. Robert McGinnis appeared in the foreground, his face contorted with pain.

Corellay’s voice changed to her own. “This is how Robert McGinnis looks to me as he uploads. He is fighting for his life. The flames are in his mind only; but he expects their physical presence soon.” Corellay’s voice dropped again; she sounded startlingly like McGinnis, even to the cadence and inflection.

“What will follow is a list of crimes that I hereby attest have been committed by Kyber agents and certain representatives of the RiggerGuild and the Spacing Authority over the past thirty years. I have compiled this record in deliberate isolation from my implants, which have otherwise prevented me from coming forward. It is my hope that this record will now be used to bring the guilty to justice.” Corellay paused a moment, then waved the wand rapidly in the air. A holoimage took shape, surrounding her as though she were standing in a cavern. Faces appeared in the blur of the wand, flickering with streaks of light that flashed onto Corellay’s face. The Kell winced in pain. Suddenly she gestured urgently to Harriet and Dendridan to step forward, into the image.

The Narseil looked unsure, but Harriet grasped his elbow and propelled him forward. As she stepped into the hologram, Harriet’s breath went out; she felt as if she’d been punched. She gasped in fear and looked around wildly for an instant. Threatening faces glared from the walls of the holographic image, and Harriet felt a sudden wash of fear of what would happen if she revealed the truths that she knew. Who were these people? Some had implants on the sides of their heads; others didn’t. The faces were indistinct; her feelings of vulnerability and fear were so powerful it was difficult to focus on the images. The Corellay/McGinnis voice was rapidly running down a long list of dates, and coercive threats, and instructions he had been given for undercover activities. The instructions ranged from espionage to destruction of evidence to creation of false navigational data for use by riggers. He could not always successfully resist…

After a moment, the images began to spin, until they were gathered into a whirlpool. As Harriet watched, stunned, they drained down into a holographic box on the floor.

Corellay’s voice sounded like her own again. “Those details have been stored in the permanent record. Step out now, please.”

With a sigh of relief, Harriet and Dendridan moved back to a safe distance. Harriet could see that Dendridan was confused about their role in this. “We were just witnessing McGinnis’s emotional responses to the physical details embedded in the recording,” Harriet whispered to the Narseil. “That becomes part of the testimony, and it can be used to support the claim of intimidation via implant—which is criminal assault under Faber Eridani law.”

McGinnis’s voice returned.

“It was not just Kyber agents behind these actions, I am convinced—but the Spacing Authority itself. And the RiggerGuild—betraying its charge to protect the life and liberty of riggers, by sending its members into areas of known pirate activity…”

Harriet felt a knot tightening in her stomach as she watched Corellay’s hand speed up to a blur again. A long written list of ships scrolled down the middle of the holo. Was the L.A. one of them? Bobby? It was scrolling too fast to read. The list funneled down into the data storage and vanished.

“The Guild,” Corellay/McGinnis continued, “has collaborated with a raider organization known as Carlotta. It was Carlotta who salvaged me when I was shipwrecked in the Sargasso, and Carlotta who put these accursed implants into me…” The Kell interpreter spun a new hologram, this time of McGinnis’s face twisted with pain as shiny implants appeared in his temples. “It was Carlotta who planted me on Faber Eridani as one of their agents. It is Carlotta who preys upon ships and their crews near the edges of Golen Space, sometimes using the lost ship Impris as a lure.” Harriet shut her eyes, suddenly feeling physically ill. Through the rushing of blood in her head, she thought, This is exactly what I need. Finally. But the thought gave her no pleasure.

“…and it is Carlotta who for years has been wielding her influence over the Guild of Riggers and the Spacing Authority of Faber Eridani.” The image changed to a sketch of RiggerGuild headquarters on the left, and Spacing Authority headquarters, on the right. McGinnis’s voice softened. “I don’t accuse all who work for these organizations—or even the majority. Most employees probably know nothing of the crimes, many of which were carried out through intermediaries. One of those intermediaries is the paramilitary organization that tried to control me. Its name is Centrist Strength.”

Harriet drew a sharp breath. Centrist Strength.

The Corellay/McGinnis voice became hollow and strained: “They had visions of using my military expertise…”

The story that emerged was a confusing one. But after all she had learned from El’ken and McGinnis, Harriet was able to fit the pieces together fairly readily.

Centrist Strength was building an underground military force on Faber Eridani. No surprise; they seemed bent on achieving power through intimidation masquerading as self-defense. Their stated motives were ambiguous: they claimed to be working for the destiny of the Centrist Worlds, reawakening the leaders of Faber Eridani and other worlds to the once-common vision of a grand-scale exploration of the galaxy. So far, so good. But for a group dedicated to the destiny of the Centrist Worlds, they had far too many surreptitious dealings with a pirate group called the Free Kyber Republic—a group diametrically opposed to the expansion of the Centrist Worlds. According to McGinnis, Centrist Strength had decided that any human expansion—and the power and profit that would flow from it—was better than none. And any means would do to achieve it.

But who was behind their secret military buildup here? Over a period of some years, McGinnis had made cautious investigative forays into the system to which his implants were connected. And he’d learned some names.

It was a long list, funneling down into data-storage as McGinnis spoke them aloud. Some individuals were clearly implicated; others were connected to Centrist Strength only through shadowy intermediaries and front organizations. It was through those indirect connections that the more familiar names appeared, just at the periphery of clear culpability. Among them were officials of the RiggerGuild and Spacing Authority.

It had taken many careful traceroutes, but McGinnis had found the chain of evidence. The Spacing Commissioner’s office had quietly signed off on a transfer of retired Spacing Authority armaments—not directly, but through carefully laundered transactions—to the private arsenal of Centrist Strength.

Harriet found herself holding her breath. Was Commissioner North involved in a paramilitary conspiracy? If so, who were his real bosses?

Corellay stroked her wand through the air, leaving a ghostly image of McGinnis’s face, surrounded by a curtain of emotional fire—and in the fire the faces of his enemies, an image of the forces assailing him through his implants.

“This is their final attempt to coerce me,” said McGinnis with a strained voice. “’Kill the visitors. Destroy the Impris records. Do not let them leave!’ This is the order I finally had to openly disobey.”

Corellay urged Harriet and Dendridan back into the holo, as the images intensified: indistinct faces barking commands at McGinnis. Harriet felt McGinnis’s anger, held back and masked as long as humanly possible. “For thirty years,” McGinnis whispered, “I’ve kept my true thoughts hidden from my implants. For thirty years, I’ve deceived them.” Harriet felt the rage pounding in her own temples as she saw McGinnis painstakingly ignoring the orders to destroy the Impris records while seeming to comply with them.

Harriet prayed she would never have to face such a battle. She could not imagine how the man could deceive implants lurking right inside his own skull. The control that must have taken…

But the images were slipping now toward the fatal end. The implants had learned of McGinnis’s deception, and were using all their power to regain control. The voice grew short and raspy. “Not much time—Jesus, it hurts! They’re trying to make me kill you! Take this information. Use it!” Harriet felt her own breath grow ragged with fear.

“I must destroy this place now! Disconnect—forever—!”

Corellay cried out, and Harriet felt a shocking blow of pain as real flames erupted from the walls, and then emptiness as McGinnis’s face dissolved in a sparkling cloud of glitter.

Corellay waved them out of the holo. As Harriet and Dendridan staggered away, Corellay’s voice became her own again. “Here ends that section of the data-upload. But there are images that follow—of explosion, fire—” flames engulfing the holo “—and the vision now is from the viewpoint of the dog, Rufus, outside the house.”

On the cot, the real Rufus was whimpering now, his legs twitching as he tried to run.

The last image Corellay painted was of the dog running in terror from the burning house. Then the holo faded, and she spoke soberly into the recording equipment. “This concludes the Robert McGinnis reading. I present this interpretation with a confidence level of nine. This is Counselor Corellay.” The Kell lowered the wand and stood swaying, her eyes closed. “You may turn off the recording.”

Harriet groped for a chair, overcome with emotion. There was a great emptiness in her, from McGinnis’s death. For a time, she felt as if nothing could change that emptiness; it was so real, so painful.

And then the details of the revelations began to filter back into place in her mind. And she began to recoil with horror at what the conspirators had done…

Riding back in the Narseil van, Harriet and Peter debated where to go next with the information. A notarized copy of the recording had already been placed for safekeeping on the worldnet. Another copy had been transmitted to El’ken, the Narseil historian.

“I think,” said Dendridan, glancing thoughtfully out the window, “that if there was any doubt about whether you still need our protection at the embassy, it is gone now. You’ve just implicated one of the most powerful officials on this planet in a conspiracy to conceal the truth. About Impris—and about the Narseil.” He turned to Harriet, and there was a sharp gleam in his eye. “We’ll most certainly grant you every protection we can.”

Harriet nodded her thanks. A certain satisfaction was starting to settle in. She now had an important piece of evidence that would help to exonerate Legroeder, if he ever returned. The interpreter’s confidence rating of nine was very high, almost as strong in court as direct verbal testimony. But the evidence against North and the other officials was still shy of what they would need to convict anyone.

“We’ve got to go after North,” said Peter. “If we unmask North, the whole conspiracy will unravel.”

Harriet agreed. But how to go after him? North was in power, and she was in hiding. Whose word would carry the greater weight? Still, it was all recorded and notarized, and ready to be released on a moment’s notice. Perhaps it could be used to force North’s hand.

“Excuse me,” said Dendridan, craning his neck suddenly to look behind the van and up. “But I think we’re about to have an emergency. Driver, could you speed up, please?”

Peter angled a glance into the security monitors. “What’s that? Is this your time sen—? Hold on. Yes, I think someone’s following us from overhead. It’s a flyer.”

Dendridan seemed to look inward. “And they’re about to give chase. Begin evasive driving, please.”

Peter grimaced as he tied his compad into the security monitors. “I’m trying to get a registration on it. It’s too far away.”

“It won’t be for long,” Dendridan murmured.

Peter seemed to read the Narseil’s tone of voice. He glanced at Harriet with eyes aflame, then said to the driver, “You might want to speed up a lot.”

Harriet shut her eyes and held her breath as the sudden acceleration slammed her back into her seat. Dear God.

“Don’t worry, Harriet. I’m sure we can shake them,” said Peter, in a voice that was not at all reassuring.

Chapter 35 Maris

The local airbus left a cloud of dust as it disappeared around the bend of the old road. Adaria, watching the bus vanish, gave a whistling sigh of relief. She stretched her flightless wings, picked up her bag, and started down the path into the woods.

It had been a long journey, but Adaria was nearly home now, back with her own people, the Fabri. In the end, there was nothing like the company of the homefolk. Especially after the last few months of life among humans. Adaria still shivered at the memories of the coolness and fear that had insinuated their way into her life at the library, and that late-night visit by Centrist Strength, with their half-veiled threats. Centrist Strength made her extremely uneasy, even at a distance—with their known caching of weapons on Fabri land, their proclamations of Destiny Manifest…

Better to leave all that behind, if one could.

The path was not long, but it wound in serpentine fashion through the woods. She felt her own inner tensions unwinding as she followed the path’s twisty course among the penalders and fragrant ellum trees to the village. Someone called out to her as she approached, and she whistled a greeting in return. She didn’t go straight to the village center, though; instead she detoured to a cabin at the edge of the village. She had someone to visit, an old friend.

Adaria paused, gazing with a shake of her feathers at her friend’s house, a low wooden structure. It seemed in poorer repair than she remembered, the bark clapboard cracked and desiccated. “Telessst?” she called through the bead curtain that hung over the front door. She ducked her head and entered, the beads brushing back over her wings. The room was dim; the only light came from two small windows with curtains drawn. It was a modest den, with a raised wooden floor, cushions, and a low table. Adaria whistled.

“Adaria? Is that you?” cried a voice from the shadows of the back room. An old female Fabri stepped out to greet her with a feathery embrace. “Iiiirrrrrrlllll,” Telest sighed, squeezing her with pent-up affection. “It is good to see you, my friend!”

Adaria didn’t answer for a moment, but just held the old Fabri’s arms. So much to think about, so much to say. “I am back,” she said finally.

“So you are. And how are you?”

Adaria gazed at her old mentor before answering. Telest’s curving neck, which the humans might have called swanlike, was a little more bent, a little frailer than when she’d last seen her. Telest’s eyes were bright, though the fine feathers covering her cheeks looked thin and worn. It was so good to be back. But there was no time for sentiment just yet.

Adaria drew a breath. “There is trouble, Telest. Word from Vegas and the Mahoney people. They need our help if we can give it. They need it now…”

I am Maris O’Hare. I may be a prisoner, but I am not without control.

Maris opened her eyes and leaned forward in the living room recliner. With a glance at her two captors, she raised her cup of tea from the side stand and took a tiny sip. The pain in her shoulder and neck was lessening; she could manage a teacup now. She set it down with trembling hands and rested her head back. “You still haven’t told me who you’re working for,” she murmured. Moving only her eyes, she glanced around the living room. She was still getting used to the idea of being planetside, in a house. But in the hands of pirates. Right where she’d started.

The woman turned from the security console she was always checking. “We told you. Ivan. That’s all you need to know.”

“Who is Ivan?”

“A friend,” the woman grunted, and walked out of the room.

The man put down a beam rifle he’d been cleaning and peered out the window. “Don’t worry about it. Just work on getting better.”

Maris pressed her lips together. For perhaps the twentieth time, she surveyed what she could see of the house: Living room. Kitchen. Short hallway with bedrooms. And two captors. Dennis and Lydia. Dennis, who hardly talked. And Lydia, the bitch. They didn’t seem like lovers, just partners—though Maris could have sworn she’d heard grunting and moaning in the other room last night. Why the hell wouldn’t they tell her what was going on? Maris sighed and closed her eyes against a rush of lingering dizziness. Coma. She’d been in a coma. She’d woken, what—three days ago? Four? She could walk a little now, from room to room, or into the shower—but always with help. She thought she could probably walk unassisted if she had to. But maybe she didn’t need to advertise that—at least until she knew more.

Dennis had promised to fill her in when she was stronger. Right now he was rubbing at his temples, as though waiting for some instruction. He didn’t have visible implants, but Maris was pretty sure he had them. Lydia, too. Maris closed her eyes, picturing the back of her neck where her own implants were mercifully silent. Dennis claimed to have deactivated them. Crude things they were, used only for sadistic control by her captors at DeNoble.

But they have implants, these two. They’re pirates. What more do I need to know about them?

She couldn’t stop the hatred from welling up; couldn’t stop the memories. The slavery, the rapes and attempted rapes, the degradation. She couldn’t stop any of it from coming back. But she could keep it inside. Her hand shook on the teacup, and she put her hand in her lap and held one fist clenched tightly together with the other. She waited until the wash of nausea subsided and she could breathe again.

She grunted softly, looking over at the window. She wondered if she had any chance of running away. Hah. She’d be lucky to make the door. Or maybe the backyard. She had no idea where she was, other than the planet Faber Eridani. But why would pirates hold her here? If she’d been recaptured, why didn’t they just take her back? Were they waiting for a ship? That was probably it; they were awaiting transport, and when it came, they’d whisk her away. All this anguish for nothing. Where was Legroeder? Everything after their escape was a blank. Her only friend; she barely knew him; but as far as she was concerned, he was her best friend in the world. If he was alive.

If I get a chance, I must… must…

She drew a slow breath. She had to make a break if the opportunity arose. But she needed to know more. “It might help me recover faster,” she said to Dennis, “if you told me what was going on.”

Lydia walked in with sandwiches and a carafe of tea. “Christ, doesn’t she ever give up?”

“Sign of recovery,” Dennis said with a shrug.

“Great. So glad you’re feeling better,” Lydia said sarcastically. She handed Maris a sandwich and slid back onto the bench in front of her security console.

Maris frowned and took a bite. The sandwich had a pungent, unidentifiable taste. She swallowed the first bite with difficulty and washed it down with some tea. To Dennis she said, “You’re with the Kyber. Are you planning to take me back?” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them.

If Dennis was surprised, he didn’t show it. He looked noncommittal and said simply, “We’re just keeping you out of the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s for your own good,” Lydia said, with her back still turned.

“For my own good?” That’s why you took me out of a hospital?

“Yes.” Dennis propped his beam rifle against the wall. As if reading her thoughts, he added, “It was necessary. Before others got to you.”

“What—others—?” Maris whispered, trying not to tremble. She’d escaped, fair and square. She shouldn’t have to be going through this. Where am I, damn you? Where is Legroeder? “What others?” she repeated.

Dennis rubbed a scar on the side of his nose. “The Spacing Authority, for one.”

Maris stared at him. She was being protected from the planetside authorities? So they were planning to take her back to the pirate stronghold.

“They do not welcome raider escapees.”

Maris nodded slowly. “Who else?”

Dennis shrugged and picked up the rifle again. “Various interests. There are many, on this planet.”

Maris opened her mouth, closed it.

“None in our backyard at the moment, though,” Lydia muttered, leaning over the console. “At least I don’t think so. There was a bit of a blip there for a second, but nothing on the sensors now.”

Looking from one to the other, Maris tried to comprehend. “What does that mean? Who is your enemy? Who are you fighting?”

“Not fighting anyone,” Dennis said. “We’re hiding.”

“And that’s why you have all these guns?”

“There are bad people out there—all right?” Lydia snapped. Standing, she flexed her right hand. A palm beamer appeared in it, and she checked its charge. “You ask too many damn questions. We’re here to protect you, and that’s all you need to know.” To Dennis, she said, “I’m taking a walk around the grounds.”

“It’s raining.”

Lydia snorted. “So that means we don’t keep a watch?”

Dennis shrugged.

“But—” Maris said, then fell silent as Lydia banged the door on her way out.

Dennis began breaking down his rifle again.

Maris sighed, reclined her chair, and closed her eyes to try to nap.

Morgan Mahoney stood in the rain with Pew and Georgio, peering down the wooded hillside. They were somewhere outside the rural community of Forest Hills. The house below the tree line was the one that Pew had identified as the supposed residence of a Mr. Lerner—the newcomer in town who was reported to have been seen meeting the car used in the abduction of Maris. Morgan pulled her rain cloak tighter, thinking, anyone who would kidnap a woman in a coma probably wouldn’t greet her and her friends with open arms.

Georgio, the Gos’n, could not seem to stand still. He was constantly stretching his three long tentacle-ended arms in restless movement. His short-stalked eyes swiveled constantly, taking in the surroundings. He was not an easy person to hide, ordinarily, but he was very good at observing. Fortunately, there was plenty of cover here, and they had a sensor-defeating camouflage mesh drawn across the bushes in front of them. The wooded surroundings that made the house inconspicuous from the road also made it relatively easy to set up for observation.

“I’ve identified six probable surveillance sensors on the outside of the building,” said Pew, keeping his foghorn voice muffled. The Swert dipped his horselike snout as he put away his remote detection gear. “There’s no telling what weapons they might have. At the verrry least, I expect they carry sidearms.”

“Like that one?” said Georgio, pointing down the hill with his third arm-tentacle.

“Eh?” said Pew.

Morgan saw a woman coming out of the house, crouching in the rain as she circled the clearing, peering one direction and then another—probably checking for intruders. The woman’s hand flexed, revealing a palm weapon. For a moment, she stared in their direction; but the camouflage screen seemed to hide them, because she moved on, circling the house. She disappeared around the far side of the house and did not reappear.

“So they ar-r-re armed,” Pew murmured.

“No charging in, then,” said Georgio.

Morgan scowled. “What should we do?”

“Well, I suppos-s-se that we could amble peaceably up to the front door,” said Pew.

“Without the police?”

The Swert scratched his great head with a long-nailed hand. “I would prefer-r-r to keep the police out of this for as long as possible. The other option is to wait and see whether there’s any actual sign of Miss O’Hare.”

“You know what I think?” Georgio said suddenly, rising in alarm. He pointed with a tentacle at a point beyond the house. “I think we’d better find out who those people are.”

Morgan suddenly felt chilled to the bone by the rain. Who—? Then she saw the movement. There were two—no, three—people in the woods on the far side of the house, apparently also watching the property. Now, who the hell would they be?

“Do you suppose the police followed the same leads we did?” Pew murmured.

“I don’t believe it’s the police,” said Georgio, his eyes shifting from side to side as he used his natural zoom lenses. “They’re not in uniform. Human, though.”

“Let’s have a look.” Pew raised a pair of high-powered binocs. He peered for a few moments, then handed them to Morgan.

The binocs were too large for her, but she managed to sight through one lens. She pressed the RELOCATE button, then clicked in for a sharp closeup—or as sharp as she could get, filtered through the rain. Two men and one woman. She frowned. One of the men looked familiar.

“I think I recognize one of them,” she said, lowering the glasses.

“Indeed?” said Pew, taking the binocs from her and touching them to his compad for download.

Morgan squinted across the distance. “I can’t be certain. But I remember looking over some reports on Centrist Strength with my mother—and someone who looked like one of those men was in the pictures.”

Georgio made a tssking sound. “Why would Centrist Strength care about—”

“Just a moment and I’ll tell you,” Pew interrupted. A moment later, he looked up from his compad. “She’s right.” He nodded to Morgan. “Well done, Miss Mahoney. The images match. Both of those men, in fact, are in the Centrist Strength database. The woman I don’t know.”

“Then that means someone else is holding Maris,” Morgan said.

“It also means we’d better be figuring out how to get her out of there,” said Georgio.

“But how?” said Pew. “That’s the question. How?”

Morgan looked from one to the other, but saw no answer. She shivered and hugged the rain cloak to her neck as she gazed down at the silent house.

Major Talbott used his spy-glasses to study the house through the trees. There’d been no sign of activity except for the occasional circuit of the house by the Kyber woman. Kyber woman! He still didn’t understand what was going on here. Somehow everything had gotten turned around. The Kyber were supposed to be the ones he was working with. And now it turned out they were set to raid a house held by Kyber agents! Well, it was on the authority of the frigging Joint Command—meaning the Carlotta people and people like Hizhonor North—but it still didn’t make any sense. Weren’t the Kyber supposed to be working together? It sure as shit didn’t seem like it, the way those guys down there had nabbed the O’Hare woman before Strength could get to her.

All these years of putting his balls on the line for the cause, and he still wasn’t sure he trusted the Kyber “alliance.” He had to work with Joint Command, but more and more he wondered if the loonies weren’t in charge of the asylum.

Damn it all… if he didn’t believe so much in…

“So, Major, what are we going to do here?” grumbled the raven-haired woman crouched beside him. “Just stand around taking in the view all day?”

Talbott glared at her. Lieutenant Cassill. Good-looking bitch, but a pain in the ass. Supposed to be a top “field action-group” operative—code for act first, think later, as far as he was concerned. Too bad; he could think of better uses for someone with her looks. “We’ll move when I say we move,” he muttered finally. “If we botch it, we’ll be worse off than before.” He glanced at their third member. “You understand that, right, Corporal?”

Corporal Sladdak shrugged. “Right.”

Lieutenant Cassill checked her ion rifle. “I don’t see what’s so important about this woman, anyway.”

“She belongs to our sponsors, that’s what’s important about her.”

“Belongs?”

Talbott shrugged in annoyance. “Supposed to be one of their people. She got away. Defected. Whatever.”

Lieutenant Cassill looked unconvinced.

“You don’t have to understand; you just have to do it.”

“Yes, sir,” she said stiffly.

Talbott suppressed a snarl and raised his spy-glasses again.

The two Fabri natives slipped silently through the trees, moving with urgent speed. The word had come from their village leader, backed up by the informal Fabri intelligence network. Centrist Strength agents were on the move in connection with a kidnapping, and help was requested. A homefolk friend was involved—Harriet Mahoney, who had aided the Fabri on more than one occasion. Look for a human woman with a Swert and a Gos’n. Help them help the offworlder woman, if you can. The Fabri were not exactly freedom fighters, but they weren’t afraid to step forward when necessary.

The Fabri reconnoitered carefully as they approached the house in the woods. The taller one, the leader, searched the area around the clearing. “Fffff—two parties,” he murmured softly, with a shiver of his wings.

The other set down a ventilated leather case and joined the first in peering. “Those three, they are Strength,” he murmured, focusing on three humans about a third of a circle around the house to the right. “They are known to us.”

“And over there?” murmured the leader.

The second Fabri shifted his gaze to the left of the clearing. “Ah—the two aliens and the woman. They are Mrs. Mahoney’s people. They are here for the missing one.”

“Shall we make contact, then?”

Georgio was the first to see them. He muttered something guttural, and Morgan turned her head and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of two approaching Fabri natives, clad in white. How did they move so silently? She placed a hand on Georgio’s tentacle-arm, the one with the weapon. “They’ve come to talk,” she said quietly.

Pew’s foghorn voice was surprisingly soft as he addressed the two Fabri males, “May we help you?”

One of the two fluttered his wings slightly. “That’s precisely what we intended to ask. Are you the friends of Vegas?”

Morgan’s heart raced. “She works for my mother.”

“Then you are here to attempt to free the offworlder woman?” asked the second Fabri.

“We are.”

“Then may we offer our assistance—?”

The shorter Fabri opened the leather case he was carrying and hoisted out a sinuous white animal. “This is a ferrcat,” he said softly, cradling the animal in his arms. “Its name is N’tari.” He was silent a moment, peering into the ferrcat’s eyes. There seemed to be a wordless exchange between the two. The ferrcat rolled its head from side to side, hissing softly. “She senses the woman,” the Fabri said. “Alive. And conscious. Weak, but well.”

The other Fabri unslung his weapon, a thistlegun. “Quickly, then. Before we are seen.” He bowed briefly to the others. “With your permission, I will move to another position, to offer additional protection.” Without waiting for a reply, he melted into the trees.

His companion spoke softly to the ferrcat, touching the glowing jewel hanging from its collar. Then he set the cat down. It stretched languorously for a moment, then suddenly flashed into motion, darting down through the brush in a fast zigzag, and out of the woods. It paused at the edge of the lawn, peering up into the treetops as though checking for birds; then it sauntered on toward the house.

“I have asked N’tari to find the woman and lead her to us. Now, we shall have to wait and see…” With those words, the Fabri raised his own thistlegun to the ready.

Maris woke up wondering why she was suddenly hearing voices. Or imagining voices, a soft mewling in her mind…

This way, Maris… this way to a friend…

She shivered, wondering if her captors had reactivated her implants. They’d claimed to have saved her life by turning them off; but what was to prevent them from switching them back on to keep her under their control?

But this hadn’t felt like a controlling force; it was more like a living voice. Not hostile. Friendly.

Come to the window. Come and you’ll see me…

There it was again.

Come to the window.

Like a purring in her mind. Come…

She rubbed her forehead. Well, why not? She could make it if she moved carefully. She heard Dennis clattering in the kitchen, and Lydia down the hall. If she got up slowly, now… if anyone saw her, she was just… going to the window.

Maris pushed herself to her feet, staggering a little. She caught her balance and stepped away from the chair. Dennis was clinking glassware. No sign of Lydia. Three more steps. She reached the living room window and gripped the sill.

Hello… there you are…

She peered through the curtain at an overgrown lawn, leading out to a woods. A light rain was falling.

A small face popped up on the other side of the glass. She stifled a cry. It wasn’t a human face; it was an animal. White. Like a large cat or weasel… wearing a collar with something glowing on it…

I can show you the way out.

Maris drew back, startled. Was the thing speaking in her mind? Maybe that glowing thing on its collar was doing it. The animal dropped out of sight. Maris leaned forward to peer out and down. The animal was on all fours on the ground. It was the size of a large house cat, with a bushy tail. It glanced up at her, then trotted toward the back door. To meet her?

Maris drew a breath. What was this all about? Faber Eridani was apparently full of hostiles. It would be insane to trust this animal. Wouldn’t it?

She remembered her determination to run, if she could.

The touch of the animal’s mind was reassuring. She sensed an earnestness. This way. My friends sent me. Your friends. Friends of Harriet. Friends of Legroeder. You know Legroeder?

Maris stiffened. Had she heard right? She pressed her face to the window again. The animal was standing outside the back door, staring up at it expectantly.

“What are you doing?”

Maris jerked back from the window, staggering a little. Lydia glared from the hallway.

“I’m just—”

“Well, you shouldn’t be—”

“Shouldn’t be up without help,” said Dennis, interrupting Lydia as he came in from the kitchen. “Still, can’t blame you for being curious, I suppose.”

“We’re supposed to be keeping her safe!” Lydia snarled. She pointed a finger at Maris. “Do not expose yourself like that!”

“But I was just—”

“Miss O’Hare,” said Dennis, “please stay away from the windows. We don’t know who might be out there.”

Maris allowed herself to look more confused than she felt. “But you’re keeping an eye out with all these sensors, aren’t you?” She shot a glance at the console.

Dennis opened his palms. “True. There’s no need to get all worked up.”

Lydia scowled. “Look—just be more careful, all right?” She hooked a thumb at Dennis. “Let’s talk.”

Dennis shrugged and followed Lydia out into the kitchen.

Maris’s pulse quickened. Her chance? Was she crazy?

Friend of Harriet and Legroeder—come quickly!

Her heart was pounding like a drum. What the hell was she thinking? But if this was for real…

Voices came from the kitchen:

“She’s not a goddamn house guest, you know!” Lydia sounded furious.

“Look, the orders were just that she’s to be held—”

“Held, you moron. Held.”

“But for safety—”

Lydia’s voice dropped in volume, but the contempt was sharper than ever. “…are we going to keep her safe if she’s sticking her goddamn face out the goddamn window—?”

Maris was surprised to realize that she’d crossed half the distance to the door while listening to the exchange from the kitchen. Her hand was reaching out.

Be quick! To safety! Before the others get here!

An image filled her mind of people approaching in the woods, strangers even less friendly than her captors here in the house. Maris shuddered, and pulled her hand back.

“…keep her the same way we’d keep any prisoner!”

“But the commander said we could—”

“What? The less she knows the better. You know that.”

“You were the one who said—”

I sense your fear. I can lead you to help.

Maris squeezed the door handle. What am I doing? What will happen if I stay?

You don’t want to meet the others.

There was a bang in the kitchen. “We better not leave her alone in there.”

“Well, it’s not as if she can—”

Maris yanked the handle and staggered out of the house. Raindrops struck her face. Fragments of memory of her escape from the outpost cascaded into her mind—the confusion, the urgency and fear, the need to escape now. Blood rushed in her ears.

Quickly… quickly…

The animal was waving its front paws like an excited dog. The pendant on its collar was pulsing with pink light. Now, Miss Maris! Follow!

“Okay,” she whispered, surrendering all reason, except that this creature had spoken the name of Legroeder, the only friend she knew. The creature sprang to the right, away from the house. Maris followed on shaky legs.

An alarm was trilling.

“She’s gone out!”

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

There was a pounding of footsteps.

“Major,” said the corporal, “who’s that coming out of the house?”

Talbott peered down through the woods.

“There she is!” shouted Lieutenant Cassill. “It’s her.”

Jezu. “Let’s get moving! Get her!” Talbott shoved the underbrush aside with his rifle as he leaped downward toward the clearing.

“There she is—!” shouted an unfamiliar woman’s voice.

Maris hesitated, turning her head.

“Get her!” called a man’s voice from the same direction.

No! cried the animal. Follow me!

Maris ran dizzily after the scurrying creature.

“You stupid bitch!” screamed Lydia.

A plasma beam crackled across the wet grass behind her, and there was a muffled shriek of pain.

“What’s the ferrcat doing—look! There’s a woman coming out!” rasped Georgio, pointing a tentacle-arm.

Morgan rose from behind the bushes, stunned. “That’s her, that’s Maris! She’s alive. She’s running!”

“She’s following the animal,” Pew boomed in his foghorn voice.

“There she is!” shouted a voice from the far side of the clearing. Morgan blinked, then realized that it was one of the Centrist Strength people. Another voice shouted, and then a door banged, and a different woman’s voice: “…stupid bitch!”

“We’ve got to move!” Morgan hissed. “Now!” She jumped up to shout to Maris, but Pew’s large, horny hand shoved her back down. A shot crackled across the lawn; the flash had come from the far side of the clearing. A woman screamed in pain. Not Maris.

“NOW!” boomed Pew, leaping out to crash downward through the bushes. A weapon had materialized in his hand. Georgio leaped after him, and Morgan scrambled to follow. Maris was running in their direction, after the ferrcat.

More shots. From the house, from the woods; it was dizzying, and Morgan couldn’t tell who was shooting at whom. But the woman she’d seen circling the house earlier was down in a heap, and the Centrist Strength trio were crashing down through the brush across the way. Morgan cupped her hands and shouted, “Maris—KEEP GOING! Stay down!”

Pew and Georgio dropped for cover, and Pew’s great hand swung up, aiming his weapon across the clearing.

The fleeing Maris saw the movement of the gun and dove into the grass even as Pew shouted, “Get down, Miss O’Hare!”

Morgan sucked a breath, expecting to see fire erupt from Pew’s weapon. The three Centrists, bursting into the clearing, were exchanging fire not with Pew but with someone in the house. But before Pew could fire, Morgan heard the zzzip of a thistlegun. She saw the Fabri in the trees to her right taking another aim. One of the Centrist Strength men was down, and the other was staggering back. The Centrist Strength woman grabbed the second man and pulled him back toward cover.

Another man, apparently from inside the house, came around the corner—and fell face down with a smoking hole in his back. The Centrist Strength woman swung her weapon around, looking for another target, then retreated before a hail of thistledarts.

The Fabri who had fired gestured to Morgan and her friends, waving them forward. Morgan launched herself down through the brush, and out onto the lawn.

Maris was crawling along the ground now. The ferrcat was leading her straight toward Morgan. “Maris!” Morgan gasped, sliding to her knees on the wet grass beside the woman. “We’re here to help. To take you to safety.”

“Who are you?” whispered Maris fiercely, struggling to rise. “Are you—”

“Friends of Legroeder. Friends of Legroeder. Come with us now, quickly.”

Maris gasped and forced herself up. “How do I know you’re—”

“You’ve got to trust us. Come on. Just a little farther.” Pew and Georgio were at her side now. Pew lifted Maris effortlessly and carried her up into the forest at a run.

Glancing back, Morgan saw one of the two Fabri standing watch, thistlegun at the ready. The closer one whistled in a shrill tone, and the ferrcat ran back to him, a streak of white through the brush. Morgan gasped her thanks to the Fabri. He merely nodded, catching the ferrcat. Georgio kept his weapon raised, covering her retreat.

Morgan beat a fast path up through the woods to Pew and Maris, then fled with them across the ridge toward the waiting car.

Chapter 36 Return to Ivan

“What the hell happened to you?” Glenswarg demanded.

Legroeder was standing in front of a mirror, wondering the same thing. The face that looked back at him was thin, dark-haired, and olive-skinned. The eyes were blue. It was his face, the face he’d had all his life, until the Narseil surgeons ran their camouflage job on him. There was no hint at all of the pale skin or the umbrella-cut white hair. Which probably explained why half the bridge crew had stared at him as he’d left the rigger-station after the battle.

Something happened during the quantum passage. Had a part of him gone back in time?

// Our internal records are incomplete for that period. But there may have been spontaneous activity by the residual plastic-surgical agents in your bloodstream… //

Legroeder grunted to himself and turned to the captain. “This is what I look like. What I’m supposed to look like.” The three Narseil were standing behind the captain, and they appeared to be suppressing laughter—Cantha and Palagren, anyway. Ker’sell merely looked perplexed, his vertical eyes slightly crossed.

Glenswarg was scowling, though. “Do you intend to explain?”

Legroeder sighed. (You really don’t know what happened?) he asked the implants.

// Negative. Internal recordkeeping failed during the passage. Or rather, was crowded out by a massive influx of data concerning the structure of the flaw—which, by the way, you will find very interesting. //

(Yeah? What kind of data?) He was aware of Glenswarg staring at him, still waiting for an answer.

// We’re still analyzing. But you saw more during that passage than you might have realized. We must consider very carefully how to use it… //

Thoughts spinning, Legroeder forced a grin at Glenswarg and began stammering out an explanation. “What I looked like before… was a form of camouflage, you might say. It was before we were all working together…”

Glenswarg’s frown only deepened.

During the flight back, Legroeder thought often about what the implants had said about the quantum flaw data. He could never quite get them to elaborate clearly; they were always still analyzing. But his own memories were beginning to come back in flickering bursts. Splinters of light fracturing off in all directions, like the needles of a new-born ice crystal… quantum flaws entwined through the Flux… The visions gave him shivers of awe and fear. Just how closely had his implants traced the positions of those flaws, anyway?

He debriefed with Glenswarg, and discussed the passage with his rigger-mates. The Narseil were absorbed in their own detailed studies of the instrumentation data. They weren’t sure what to make of Legroeder’s observations—they had caught intimations of the sprawling proliferation of the flaw, but few details; but then each of them had seen features no one else had seen. Legroeder found himself wondering how long it would take his implants to complete their own analysis. He missed Deutsch, who was still aboard Impris, flying in formation with the fleet. They spoke on flux-com from time to time, but that wasn’t the same thing as sitting down together. Legroeder wanted to know what Deutsch had really gone though during the passage.

He also wondered what kind of reception they were going to receive from Yankee-Zulu/Ivan. YZ/I, of course, should be delighted to see them pull in with Impris; but would he be as happy to keep his end of the bargain once Impris was parked in his dock? And what about Tracy-Ace/Alfa? His thoughts veered one way and then another as he thought about her: remembering her eyes, her touch, the flowing connection between them… and then thinking, what if she had only been used to set him up? Would she still be there for him, now that the job was done?

And what of Maris, and Harriet—and Harriet’s grandson? And now that he’d found Impris, would he succeed in clearing his name at last?

No wonder he felt so damned anxious.

Watching from the bridge as Phoenix docked at Outpost Ivan, Legroeder struggled with a new set of mixed emotions. He could not believe, watching as the Kyber riggers brought the ship in to the outer docks of the Kyber fortress, how much like home Outpost Ivan looked to him. The last thing he wanted was to feel at home here. With luck, that wouldn’t be a problem for long.

Cantha appeared at his side. “Troubled?” the Narseil asked. Legroeder nodded. “Well, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking… we are not entirely without resources.”

Legroeder turned and gazed at the stocky Narseil.

Cantha scratched under the neck of his Narseil khakis; he hadn’t had a decent soak in a pool since leaving H’zzarrelik, and the thick crest on the back of his neck was looking pretty flaky. “I was just thinking,” Cantha said as he turned to view the fleet movement in the monitors, “that we learned an awful lot of new rigging science out there, and we haven’t really even sorted it all out among ourselves.” His slitted, vertical eyes shifted to catch Legroeder’s gaze. “But it could be very useful—to many people. If you know what I mean.”

Legroeder glanced around at the Kyber crewmen on the bridge. Useful, indeed. “I think I do, yes,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “I think I do.”

The escort ships fell back to allow tugs to bring Impris into dock; Phoenix docked alongside the passenger liner. The procedure seemed to take forever, but eventually Captain Glenswarg called, “Shut down engines.” Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to Legroeder and the Narseil. “Gentlemen, you’ve discharged your duties well. You may collect your things and go stationside.” He shook each of their hands. “Good work, riggers. It’s been one hell of an experience having you aboard, that’s for sure.” It was the closest thing to levity Legroeder had ever heard from Glenswarg.

“It’s been an experience working with you, too, sir,” Legroeder said, cracking half a smile. “I suppose we might see you around the station?”

“I suppose we might,” Glenswarg agreed. With a brisk salute, he turned back to his bridge duties. Legroeder and the Narseil trooped off to the airlock.

If Legroeder was hoping they might be greeted by Tracy-Ace in the docking bay, he was unsurprised to find a security escort instead. The leader of the escort, ears bristling with augments, bowed. “Riggers, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan welcomes you back, and requests a meeting at the earliest opportunity.”

“Um—” Legroeder said, squinting at the man’s name badge. Lieutenant Zond, it looked like. “Certainly. But do you mind if we see our colleagues off Impris first? We’ve had quite a time of it.”

“Of course,” the lieutenant said, gesturing down the platform. “That was the next thing I was going to say. We’re about to have the formal opening of the Impris hatch. First time in a hundred years, I understand. Of course we want all of you to be on hand.”

Not quite the first time, Legroeder thought dryly, but confined himself to saying, “A hundred twenty-four years, actually.”

Lieutenant Zond gave no sign of having heard, but led the way around to the Impris docking platform. A clear wall afforded a breathtaking view of the ship, like a great silver whale. About a third of the way down its hull, a circle of security people surrounded the main hatch. In the middle of the circle stood Tracy-Ace/Alfa.

Legroeder’s heartbeat quickened as he saw her gesturing and giving orders. Lieutenant Zond brought them through the circle. It took Tracy-Ace a few moments to notice them; she turned with a big grin, her eyes shining—and did a double take when she saw Legroeder’s hair. She didn’t say a word about it, but strode forward with an outstretched hand to greet him. “Rigger Legroeder! Welcome back to Outpost Ivan!”

Legroeder had been wondering how he should greet her. Taking her cue, he clasped her hand in an official welcome. He felt an electric tingle at her touch, and her beaming if slightly unfocused smile. For a moment, he felt a giddy desire to enfold her in his arms; but then the tingle fled, and her smile and hand moved on, leaving him empty as she turned to his Narseil friends. “Welcome back, all of you! And congratulations! You’ve accomplished an astounding feat!” Tracy-Ace made a sweeping gesture to the starliner. “Impris! You brought her back safely! Who would have believed it?”

As she marveled, Legroeder found himself feeling ignored by Tracy-Ace. Is it because we’re in public? Or is something going on? He cleared his throat. Don’t be a fool; she could hardly hug you in front of everyone, could she? I don’t care; I don’t like being ignored. He cleared his throat again. “Did you get our preliminary report?”

“Indeed, we did,” boomed a voice beside him, and Legroeder turned to see a larger-than-life holo of Yankee-Zulu/Ivan floating beside him. “It’s an incredible story. Simply incredible. We want to hear every detail.”

Legroeder inclined his head in acknowledgment, wondering why YZ/I had chosen to appear in holo, rather than in person.

“We’re expecting the Impris officers to emerge momentarily,” Tracy-Ace said, her temple implants racing with activity. For an instant Legroeder thought he caught the familiar twinkle in her eye, and he suppressed a flutter of excitement. “We have people standing by to give Impris a royal welcome. We’ve got medical teams, engineering teams, hospitality teams…”

Hospitality teams? Legroeder suddenly saw a new holo—a large brass ensemble poised just outside the circle. Okay… He let out a long, slow breath, waiting for the hatch to open. Trying to ignore Tracy-Ace. Focus on Impris… on the mysteries of the ghost ship, the Flying Dutchman of space. It would soon be crawling with Kyber techs. He felt a sudden surge of resentment. Damn it, these were his mysteries to reveal, his and the others who had gone through it with him.

A shout went up. A dark opening appeared in the airlock. The brass ensemble played a triumphant fanfare. And now, emerging ahead of the other officers and crew, were Captain Noel Friedman and Rigger Freem’n Deutsch. The captain’s face looked as if it were about to crack, straining between joy and solemnity; but Deutsch, though his facial expressions were concealed behind metal skin, appeared to Legroeder to be grinning from ear to ear.

“Welcome back to civilization!” boomed the voice of YZ/I.

“Thank you,” Friedman whispered, looking around.

Legroeder could not contain himself. He strode forward to greet Friedman and Deutsch. “Captain!” he cried. “Freem’n! Am I glad to see you!”

The solemnity on Captain Friedman’s face finally cracked. “Halleluiah!” he cried, raising his hands joyfully. “Landfall! By God, I never thought I’d see the day again!” He cocked his head in puzzlement, as he pumped Legroeder’s hand. “Is that you, Legroeder? What the hell’s happened to your hair, man?”

“Well, it’s, uh—” Legroeder gestured helplessly “—I’ll have to explain later.” He suddenly realized he wasn’t observing any kind of protocol here. “Captain Friedman, may I introduce you to the leader of the Outpost, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan?” He gestured to the holo of YZ/I, who was lit up like a Christmas tree. “And Tracy-Ace/Alfa, YZ/I’s right-hand assistant.”

“Welcome to Outpost Ivan of the Free Kyber Republics,” Tracy-Ace said smoothly, stepping forward. “We’re delighted to see Impris, and to extend our hospitality to you, to your crew, and to all of your passengers.”

The brass ensemble struck up another welcoming tune.

Friedman bowed with obvious relief. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming to the aid of my ship and crew. We are honored to accept your hospitality.” He gestured to the emerging officers. “Needless to say, we are eager to get back to our home port. But we would be most grateful for your assistance with repairs and supplies and so on.”

Freem’n Deutsch stood just behind Friedman, looking inscrutable. Legroeder held his breath, watching Tracy-Ace.

Tracy-Ace bowed. “Captain, we will assist you with medical treatment and whatever else you need.”

“Indeed,” said YZ/I’s holo. “And after all the time you’ve been away, we hope you might enjoy a look at our modest outpost. I think you’ll find it rather different from Faber Eridani.”

“Yes, of course,” Friedman said. But a shadow had crept over his face. “We certainly appreciate the offer of help. Including the medical—though I’m afraid for many of our people, the needs are more psychological than medical. It has been… a difficult ordeal.”

“We understand—and we’ll do our best,” Tracy-Ace promised.

“Some of them,” Friedman continued, “might be reluctant to leave the ship. It is difficult to explain…”

“Then our people will go to them,” Tracy-Ace said. “Captain, we would very much like to study your ship. We hope to find some explanation for what you and your crew have gone through.”

“Certainly, you may look,” Friedman said. “But I think you’ll learn more from the riggers who brought us out. Rigger Deutsch here. Rigger Legroeder. The Narseil.”

Legroeder suddenly knew why he felt a slowly tightening knot in his stomach. Yes, it was the riggers who knew; the ship would tell them nothing. And it was he and the Narseil who knew most of all. And that made them a valuable—perhaps dangerously valuable—commodity. Was it his imagination, or was Deutsch peering at him with eyes that seemed to reflect his own thoughts?

He spoke suddenly, to release the tension. “I believe you’re right, Captain. It’s not the ship we need to understand; it’s the Flux. My Narseil colleagues and I have been working very hard to formulate answers—for all of us.” He turned to YZ/I and Tracy-Ace. “We’ll be happy to go over it all with you at your earliest convenience.” But I don’t know how you’re going to take what we have to say.

“The sooner the better,” rumbled the image of YZ/I. “Why don’t you come on down now?”

Tracy-Ace’s implants flickered with intense activity. She cocked her head and raised a hand. “Excellent idea. Lieutenant Zond, would you care to escort—?”

It was probably just as well that Tracy-Ace wasn’t with them, Legroeder thought as they approached YZ/I’s operations center. He had enough to think about right now without wondering what was going on in her mind. Freem’n was at his side, but they’d had no chance to talk privately. Behind them walked all of the Narseil except Agamem, who’d been sent to report back to Commander Fre’geel. Legroeder’s thoughts were starting to percolate with memories of the passage, and a flood of further questions, many of them coming from the implants in his skull. It was going to be hard to keep his head clear for this meeting.

A man was just leaving YZ/I’s command platform as they approached—a dark-haired, red-skinned man. It took Legroeder a moment to place him; he was the one who’d argued with YZ/I and Tracy-Ace during their previous meeting. He searched his memory for the man’s name. Lanyard/GC. Old boyfriend of Tracy-Ace’s or something. A pain in the ass. Legroeder was glad he was leaving, not arriving.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with me,” YZ/I called after Lanyard, who seemed to give a silent snort. As he passed, Lanyard glanced at Legroeder and the Narseil with what seemed a mix of curiosity and derision.

Legroeder forgot Lanyard as YZ/I boomed out, “Wonderful to see you! All of you! Come in, come in!” The glowing man greeted Legroeder with a hearty handshake. “I was afraid I’d never see you again. And here you are! Incredible mission—just fantastic!” YZ/I’s face rippled with light as he waved them all into the command section of his operations center. He sealed the section off with an opaque force-screen. “So, Legroeder. How’s it feel to be back?”

Legroeder laughed, in spite of himself. “Glad to be here. Glad to be alive.”

“I can imagine,” said YZ/I. He studied Legroeder for a moment. “Nice haircut, by the way. Did you do that yourself?”

Legroeder sighed deeply. He thought he heard the Narseil chuckling behind him. “You could say that, I suppose.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway—we’re here, and we’re ready to report.”

“Excellent.” YZ/I rubbed his hands together expectantly. “I wish I could have been there at the docks in person. But I’m afraid that… well, certain political concerns precluded that. I do apologize. Now, tell me everything. Everything that happened. Everything you learned.” His face and body shimmered with moving patches of color. YZ/I spread his hands and looked piercingly at Legroeder.

Legroeder frowned, trying to frame words. “I can tell you what happened,” he said finally. “But telling you what we learned—that’s going to be more difficult.”

“Then let’s start with what’s easy,” YZ/I said.

Legroeder felt momentarily at a loss; he gestured helplessly to his fellow riggers.

“Come, gentlemen,” YZ/I laughed. “Impris is sitting in my docking port. You found her.” He clapped his hands together. “Don’t be bashful. Tell me how you did it.”

“Perhaps I can summarize,” said Cantha. And in a husky murmur, the Narseil gave a recap of the search for and discovery of Impris. He paused for breath, then briefly explained how the time instabilities had forced their hasty departure.

YZ/I’s eyes were intense with interest. “So the key discovery in all of this was the spacetime… ‘quantum flaw.’ Is that right?” He rummaged in his seat pockets until he found a cigar. He inspected it thoughtfully, as though by mulling over the cigar he might comprehend the meaning of the phrase, quantum flaw.

“Yes,” Legroeder said, finding his voice again. “And we can’t explain it fully, because we don’t understand it fully. We can tell you how we got into the flaw, and how we got out, but I’m not sure we can tell you why.”

YZ/I stopped in the middle of lighting his cigar. “You don’t know why you did what you did?”

“We know why we made certain decisions. But in the larger sense—it all happened so fast that by the end we were operating almost wholly on instinct.”

YZ/I puffed. “And once it was over, and you had some time to reflect back on it?”

Legroeder snorted. “Once we got out of the flaw, we had a little something else to think about—a ship named Hunter. I presume Captain Glenswarg informed you about our brush with KM/C?”

“Yes, he did,” YZ/I said. “It was exactly as we feared—Carlotta did not take kindly to having their prize lure taken out of the water.”

“No.” Legroeder reflected back on the discovery that his former captain was trying to kill him. “No, they did not.”

“Well, I’m glad our people were able to take care of it without too much trouble,” YZ/I said casually. “I understand you people were very good in the fight, too.”

“Thank you,” said Palagren with, Legroeder noted, a dry Narseil sarcasm that YZ/I almost certainly missed.

“But back to what you were saying—about your findings.”

“Well—” Legroeder drew a deep breath “—we don’t have a definitive picture of the quantum flaw yet. We do have a huge amount of information that we’re still analyzing.” And mapping? Is that what’s going to come out of all this?

YZ/I stared at him for a moment. “Still analyzing. Okay. But tell me this: are my ships in danger of disappearing into the quantum flaw the way Impris did? If you recall, that was one of the things I sent you to find out.” He rippled with white light, flicking his gaze from one rigger to the next.

Legroeder’s head hurt, buzzing with a sudden burst of activity from the implants. “I think they are,” he said at last.

“You think they are? You think they’re in danger?”

Legroeder drew another slow breath under YZ/I’s glare, and caught a slight nod from Palagren and Cantha. “Let me rephrase. The danger exists, definitely. It can happen again, and probably will. But I can’t tell you—yet—exactly where the dangers exist…” He shook his head; it suddenly felt full of cobwebs. He wasn’t purposely being vague. And yet his thoughts… what the devil was going on?

“Why not?” YZ/I demanded, puffing smoke. “Are you saying you don’t have the knowledge? Or that you aren’t planning to share it with us?” His voice was suddenly full of needles.

“Uh—”

Palagren raised a hand to interrupt. “May I be so bold as to ask a question in return?”

YZ/I cocked his head, frowning. “You may ask.”

“Thank you. I was just wondering, what would we expect in return for providing that kind of information?”

YZ/I’s eyes narrowed. He clicked his teeth together, though whether in surprise or admiration of Palagren’s bluntness wasn’t clear. “Well, I promised you the ship, and your freedom, didn’t I?”

He paused a beat, and Palagren said, “When?”

“Eventually. What do you want? Some kind of preferred treatment?”

Palagren opened his mouth and closed it. “Could you define ‘eventually’? And ‘preferred treatment’?”

YZ/I glared around his cigar. “Better than nonpreferred treatment. Let’s quit screwing around. How useful is your information?”

Legroeder felt his own lips tighten, as Palagren made a soft hissing sound. Useful isn’t the right word, he thought. Indispensable is more like it, if it’s what I think it is.

“Look,” YZ/I said. His eyes flicked from one to another. “You all went out and risked your lives to bring this ship back, on the strength of my promise to release you. Right? Well, if I repeated that promise now, would it make any difference? I could still renege just as easily, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

How reassuring, Legroeder thought, noting that YZ/I had not repeated the promise. The Narseil seemed to be waiting for Legroeder to respond; this was human psychological territory. He cleared his throat.

“What?” YZ/I asked.

Legroeder let his breath escape. “We’re not trying to hold out on you. But until the information is processed—which we cannot do overnight—there’s only so much we can share. Right, Palagren? Cantha?”

Palagren’s neck-sail rippled in agreement.

YZ/I squinted through the cigar smoke. “All right, then—let’s back off a little. Tell me what you do know. Tell me what it felt like.” He waved his hands, inviting elaboration. “You were caught in this fold. Tell me what your instincts told you was going on…”

Palagren made a hissing sound, and began to describe the riggers-eye view of their flight out through the quantum flaw…

“The passage was utterly harrowing,” the Narseil concluded.

“To say the least,” Legroeder muttered.

Palagren glanced at him. “And I don’t know how repeatable it would be. I think we were very, very lucky.”

YZ/I looked troubled, as they by turns described their experiences. He questioned each of them with urgency, and a surprising degree of technical understanding. Legroeder was struck by how similar their impressions were in general, and yet how different in detail. Deutsch, in some ways, had the most interesting experience, since he’d been leading a team of human riggers who were wholly unprepared mentally. “Those men had some images during the transit that I would not want to see again in the net,” Deutsch murmured, the modulated tones of his synthetic voice belying the emotions that Legroeder guessed he was feeling. “If we had not been so closely linked to Phoenix, I doubt we’d have made it through.”

“I must speak with these Impris riggers,” YZ/I mused, when Deutsch finished. “But gentlemen—I’m still waiting to hear what caused Impris to fall into the fold in the first place. Was it just bad luck—or did they do something wrong, eh?” He squinted through the cigar smoke boiling in the air, and suddenly his manner seemed to suggest that they were old friends, catching up. “Was it because they’d rigged together too many times? Or was it their route?” He held out his hands. “Tell me why.”

It was Cantha who replied. “We don’t know for sure. We had only a brief time with the Impris riggers, before the time distortions forced us to act.” Cantha’s dark-green cheeks puffed out, and his oval eyes stretched even further, vertically, making him look like a large cobra.

“You have no opinion on why she was trapped, then?”

Cantha flicked his fingers. “If you want my opinion—I believe there was an element of bad luck in the route they followed. They may have frequented a route that took them—perhaps over and over—close to the folds, and the underlying flaw, without their ever being aware of it. They may have been perilously close on those occasions when they reported difficulty. And then, one time, they didn’t just come close.”

“They fell in?”

“Precisely.” Cantha paused. “This flaw is extremely long, and possibly infinite, and branches through several dimensions. I doubt it’s an isolated cosmological phenomenon. Other flaws may be closer to the surface in some places and farther in others. But in any case, difficult to detect, with our current state of knowledge.”

Legroeder stirred. “Cantha’s being way too conservative. Coming out of the flaw, I saw quite clearly… that space is full of these things.” He gazed hard at YZ/I. “If you want to find them the hard way, the surest thing you can do is send a whole fleet through the underflux.”

A long silence followed, during which YZ/I seemed frozen. Then he breathed again, and rose slowly to his feet. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I want to show you something.” As he turned, the back wall of his command center paled, and a doorway opened. “If you would follow me, please…”

Legroeder and the others exchanged glances as they followed YZ/I down a darkening passageway. The only light, for a few seconds, came from YZ/I’s body, and the tip of his cigar. Then all the darkness around slowly came to life with stars, a sprinkling at first, and then a multitude. The stars were below them as well as above, and on all sides. They seemed to be standing on a narrow catwalk, suspended in space. Legroeder’s pulse quickened as he saw the swirl of the galactic spiral arm; then the stars slowly wheeled until they were looking directly into the Sagittarian sector, in the direction of the galactic core. Out in those clusters of stars and nebulas, he knew, lay the Well of Stars, the next great sector of space to be colonized. By the Free Kyber, if YZ/I had his way.

“You know why I’ve brought you here?” YZ/I asked, his voice reverberating softly among the stars. No one answered. YZ/I raised a hand, and the stars slowly softened to a blur, until they were looking at a vast chart of the Flux, of the territory between where they were now, and the Well of Stars. The view changed gradually, reflecting a descent into ever-deeper levels of the Flux. “Gentlemen, I have only one overriding interest. And that is for you to show me: where are the quantum flaws that endanger my fleet?” He turned and his eyes burned with light. “Rigger Legroeder, you say you saw them. Can you put them on the map for me?”

Legroeder hesitated. He thought about the information that the implants had displayed to him—arrays of spacetime splinters that stretched out toward infinity through the underflux. He felt his implants continuing to buzz as they sifted through the mountains of information. He felt near-certainty that he would, in time, be able to produce just such a map. But not yet. Not until the implants finished their work. For a moment he reached out, as though to touch the Flux. Then he stopped and shook his head. “Not yet. But later, I think—after we’ve analyzed the information—”

“Later,” YZ/I echoed. “I see. And where is all this raw data that you need to analyze?”

Legroeder felt himself unable to speak.

“Some of it is in our data records,” Cantha volunteered. “But most—”

“Is where?” YZ/I growled.

Legroeder felt a shortness of breath. Why couldn’t he just say it?

Freem’n Deutsch floated forward. “It is in our minds, YZ/I. And our augments. That is probably where the most important part of it is.” He glanced at Legroeder. “And Legroeder here… well, you seem to have seen more of it than the rest of us. That talent of yours…”

Legroeder started to speak, but something caught in his mind. He felt as if a fog were settling back around his brain, as if some part of him were resolutely determined not to share with anyone.

“I believe,” Cantha said, “that the only way to wholly clarify the information is to bring Impris and her crew to the Narseil Rigging Institute for study. There, I am certain, we will find the answers we need.”

A circlet of light slid up YZ/I’s body like a ring on a pole. “The Narseil Institute.” YZ/I looked as if he were involved in a long inner dialogue, against the swirling colors of the Flux. He was silent a long time. Finally he said, “No, I don’t believe that will do. I believe what we will do is study the ship here, quite thoroughly. And see if we can’t learn the answers ourselves. Eh?”

The Narseil riggers stiffened. Legroeder tried not to betray the tension in his own throat as he said carefully, “You did promise to release the ship to return home.”

YZ/I looked faintly amused. “And so I shall… in due course. But we have extremely capable people here, and here is where the study will be done. After all—would you expect me to believe that the Narseil Institute, if it had custody of Impris, would gladly hand over all of its findings to the Free Kyber Republic?”

The Narseil were silent.

YZ/I leveled a gaze at Legroeder. “And what about the knowledge in your head?”

Legroeder studied the palms of his hands for a moment. “I’ve… already told you what I saw and felt.” Threads of light, a web work of flaws… the beginnings of the map that would come…

“But the rest of it… the hard data…”

Legroeder swallowed.

YZ/I was flickering like a ghost come alive.

Legroeder felt behind his ears. That buzzing vagueness… a feeling of cotton stuffed between himself and the implants. “I don’t… know. These are Narseil implants. I’m… having a little trouble getting access to some of the information myself.” His voice sounded stupid even to himself, as he said it. What are these damn implants doing to me?

YZ/I pulsed as if he were about to explode. “You’re having difficulty gaining access? Well, then—” he glanced at the Narseil “—maybe we can help you get access. We have people here who are quite expert in that sort of work.” Legroeder recoiled in alarm, as YZ/I closed his eyes for a moment and appeared to subvocalize. His eyes opened. “Some of my people will be coming to take you to our labs. We’ll see what we can do, eh?” He took a puff from his cigar, blew the smoke out into the Flux. “Just helping, you understand. All right?”

Legroeder stared at him, appalled. Helping, he thought, images of DeNoble flashing in his mind. Indoctrination… reinforcement… punishment… I know how the Kyber like to help. “Oh, no you don’t,” he whispered, barely aware of his own voice speaking.

YZ/I smiled chillingly. “Oh, yes I do.” He raised his chin slightly and spoke past him. “Yes, Lieutenant—in here with your men.”

Chapter 37 Final Analysis

The room didn’t look that terrible, really; it was a plain white laboratory, with a couple of high-backed, padded seats that might have been in a dentist’s office. But when the tech pointed toward one of the seats, Legroeder found himself thinking of the outpost’s maintainers working in their little artificial world in a vault, and the guards and med-techs who kept them there.

Legroeder kept his gaze implacable and stood unmoving in the center of the room. He wished to hell now he’d fought this business in YZ/I’s office, but it hadn’t seemed a smart idea at the time. And now his Narseil friends had been whisked away elsewhere, supposedly to report to their own commander. I may have no choice about this, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to just step into it for them.

“Please sit, Rigger,” said the tech, in a tinny voice that came from a speaker embedded in the front of his throat.

“Go fuck yourself.”

The tech squinted at him, as if unsure how to proceed in the face of opposition. After a moment, the tech twitched an eyebrow; one of the guards grasped Legroeder’s arm to move him toward the seat, and Legroeder yanked it away. “Get your hands off me.” The guard grabbed both arms, this time with augmented strength, and lifted him straight into the seat. Before Legroeder could get his breath back, two other guards were strapping him in with restraints that seemed to come out of nowhere. “You bastards,” he hissed, gasping for wind. “Are you trying to screw up the data?”

“Certainly not,” said the tech, in an admonishing voice. “The boss said that you needed some help in opening access to your augment stores. It may be that your resistance here is being mediated by the augments themselves, so we’ll just move things along and do our best not to cause any pain or discomfort. You’ll probably find it easier to cooperate once the procedure’s underway.”

“Like hell I will,” he grunted. He found himself suddenly thinking of Bobby Mahoney—who, if he was still alive at all, was probably living a life full of this kind of crap. Legroeder hadn’t gotten a chance yet to ask again about the boy. Where the hell’s Tracy-Ace when I need her?

The tech smiled faintly. “Bear with me for one moment.”

There was a soft whine, and Legroeder just glimpsed out of the corner of his eye a set of padded flaps rotating up from the headrest. Before he could react, his head was clamped in a vice. He felt a tingle in his temples, and an instant paralysis, leaving him with heartbeat, breath, and eye movement—and little else. He saw Lieutenant Zond off to one side, looking studiously indifferent.

“Put your implants into handshake mode,” the tech said.

Legroeder tried to snarl, but what came out was a mumble.

“All right, let’s see if this works.” The tech drew an opaque visor down over Legroeder’s eyes.

Legroeder felt a sheet of white noise slide across his consciousness like an ocean wave. Drowning—! His thoughts blurred and lost coherence; he watched his own conscious thought vanish into a haze, like milk swirling into coffee.

He was gasping; his neurons were gasping.

He was twisting on a synaptic connection; something was trying to illuminate the way into the implants attached to his brain. It was finding no entry, but the effort filled him with a sense of violation, and danger. He could not speak…

An external voice rasped and screeed, and another voice answered from within…

// No connection is possible at this time… //

The screeing voice changed pitch, dropped to a growl.

// No connection is possible… //

A metallic resonance.

// No connection is possible… //

There was a brief, sharp interaction that set his teeth chattering. Then, with an abrupt thunk, the pressure against his thought let up.

Legroeder tried to refocus; he felt a rush of claustrophobia, his heart racing. There was a rasping sound in his ears, rhythmic and urgent, frightening. His breath.

He tried to cry out. What—are you—doing—to me?

The tinny voice of the tech: “This isn’t working. Let’s try something else here…”

There was a twang, and then the world went away…

*

Incessant heartbeat.

Scratching, a bird’s feet on metal.

Pulsing shocks of fear.

Muttering voices, incomprehensible.

Time passing like molasses…

*

More voices, in another time and place, discussing the possibility of surgical extraction of implants… but they were too deeply interwoven into his neural matrix; the risk of killing him was too great…

A pity… it might have been so quick, so easy…

*

When he came to, Legroeder felt dizzy and nauseous, with ringing memories of voices clashing like armies. But the visor was off; he could see. “What… how long…?” he rasped.

A different tech came forward. A woman this time; she had a flesh-and-blood face, thin and birdlike. Her voice was deeper than the previous tech’s. “You were out for twelve hours. We couldn’t get a thing. You aren’t holding your augments back, are you? The Boss assured us you were trying to get access.”

Legroeder blinked furiously. His eyes were gritty; his head hurt from the clamp pads. But it hurt even more on the inside.

“We’ll keep trying,” muttered the tech. “There are some other approaches that might—”

The nearby door slid open. A female voice shouted, “Get him out now, I said!”

Legroeder tried to turn.

“Miss Alfa,” said the tech in apparent surprise.

“Do you understand now?” Tracy-Ace/Alfa, in her black work outfit, strode into view, gesturing angrily. The tech seemed frozen in alarm. Tracy-Ace peered down at Legroeder. “My God, what are they doing to you?” She slapped an open palm down on one of the controls. The clamp-pads fell away, releasing him abruptly. Legroeder gasped, his head rolling on the headrest. He could barely control the movement.

A hand on his shoulder, Tracy-Ace bent to peer into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Uh…” His lips felt as though they’d been anesthetized.

Tracy-Ace yanked open a drawer and snatched out a handheld paramedical probe. She thrust it against his chest. “Hold still. Okay—you’re not having a cardiac event—but your cortical activity looks scrambled.” Muttering under her breath, she peered into his eyes again. Her augments flickered, illuminating her face. “Rings, Legroeder, I wish I’d gotten here sooner.”

“I… it’s…” It’s all right.

No, it’s not all right. Where the hell were you?

“Christ, I’m sorry.”

“Been here… twelve hours…” His voice was a whisper.

“Damn that fucker! I was with Impris. YZ/I didn’t tell me he was sending you here. I’ll kill him.” Tracy-Ace’s brow was furrowed, her gaze deep and probing as she studied him.

Was she telling the truth? He had to steel himself not to be drawn into those eyes. Not until he knew.

She released the straps. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.” She turned and hollered, “Lieutenant Zond!”

Back at his quarters, Tracy-Ace fed him a dinner that she’d sent Zond to fetch. Some kind of noodles; he swallowed without noticing the taste. When Tracy-Ace was satisfied that he wouldn’t keel over, she said, “You need rest and I need to talk to YZ/I. I’ll leave Zond outside, with orders to let no one in except by my authorization.”

Legroeder tried to choke back an angry reply. It bubbled up anyway. “A lot of good Zond will be. He’s the one who took me to that place. How do I know he won’t take me back there the minute you leave?”

Tracy-Ace bristled. “He will obey my orders.”

Legroeder flushed. “Were those your orders, for me to be worked over by the inquisition?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Is that what you think?”

“Well, you just said—”

“Damn. That is what you think, isn’t it?” She studied Legroeder with narrowed eyes. “I did not send you there. YZ/I did it, without letting me know. I have now transferred authority over Zond back to me.”

“And YZ/I can’t take it right back?”

Tracy-Ace stared at him hard, the flickering around her eyes slowly dying down. “He won’t,” she said softly. “I will see to that. Believe me, I will.”

Before he could respond, she leaned forward as though to kiss him on the cheek. Instead, she gripped his shoulders and squeezed, giving him a quick hug. Then she was out the door, leaving him reverberating with a welter of confused images from the contact.

Legroeder finished his meal in a state of shock. How much of that was he supposed to believe? He ought to call Deutsch, or the Narseil. But he was so exhausted. He needed to stretch out on his bunk to rest. Just for a few minutes…

When sleep came over him it was deep and filled with angry dreams.

He dreamed of distant, crackling contact through his implants… flickering images of Tracy-Ace and Yankee-Zulu/Ivan… and echoes of shouting voices…

Fucking bastard! WHY DID YOU HIDE THAT FROM ME?

Am I supposed to show you everything?

When it matters like that—yes, dammit! You deliberately—

Spared you a distraction when you had other responsibilities. I think you’re letting your personal feelings—

Fuck my personal feelings!

Now, Tracy-Ace/Alfa, I suggest you calm down…

CALM DOWN? I’ll calm down after I’ve wrung your miserable neck, you lying manipulative sonofabitch!

Watch your tone, Node Alfa…

It’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen you do.

I said, watch your tone…

The connection hissed and faded…

Legroeder was awakened by Tracy-Ace, bringing breakfast. He sat up, holding his head, trying to sort dream from reality. He could not. “What the devil’s going on?” he gasped.

“A lot,” she said tightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Lousy.” He drew a slow, painful breath. Memories of the inquisition were already crowding out whatever remained of the fragments of his dreams. “I guess returning-hero status is pretty short-lived around here.”

“I have just had a long and unpleasant talk with YZ/I about that very question,” she said severely, pouring him a cup of murk from a thermal pitcher. She put a plate with a breakfast roll and a citromelon slice in front of him. “Let’s just say, your status has been restored.”

He squinted, shouting voices echoing in his mind. “Yeah? How wonderful.”

She frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

He didn’t look at her. “I didn’t say that. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Legroeder…” She frowned harder. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

He didn’t answer, or look up.

“Legroeder, I would have stopped it sooner if I’d known. I really would have. I’m sorry.”

He finally raised his eyes, and tried not to sound too acid. “I thought you were this all-fired powerful node. How could you not have known?”

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

“I thought so. Maybe you should leave now.”

“Legroeder. Look, I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you. I should have been there to look out for you. But YZ/I blindsided me; he kept me from seeing what was happening until after you’d been worked over.”

He remained silent.

“Will you please believe me?” When he didn’t answer, she pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of him. She grasped both of his hands in hers. The sudden electric connection took his breath away. He felt her gaze, and her presence…

And then, as suddenly, the connection ebbed away. Tracy-Ace drew back, her augments winking. “What are you doing? Are you blocking me?” she whispered. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Legroeder stared down at her hand grasping his. He felt no sensation except the physical pressure, and that seemed a million miles away. He searched inward. The implants had been there for an instant, allowing the connection; but now they were gone. Without the implants there could be no link with Tracy-Ace. And he had a distinct feeling—perhaps they had left him a subtle message—that they had shut themselves down for the duration. Meaning, until they were in a place of safety. A Narseil place of safety. Oh, Jesus.

Tracy-Ace was squeezing his hand harder, as if she could force the connection. “What’s wrong, Legroeder? What’s wrong with your implants?”

He shook his head. “They’ve closed down. It’s not me. I don’t know why.”

Tracy-Ace rocked back in consternation, still holding his hand. “Are they damaged?”

“I don’t think so. No.”

She looked at him for a long moment, disheartened. Then she drew a breath. “Legroeder—can I tell you this? I missed you. I’m very glad to have you back. And not just for Impris.”

He couldn’t react; his thoughts were too tangled.

Tracy-Ace pursed her lips together; finally she nodded and drew herself erect. “As soon as you’re ready, we’re going to have a very interesting talk with YZ/I. We’ll be joining a few people there.”

“A few people?”

“You know them.”

“Legroeder, I’m so glad to see you’re… unharmed! Come in,” YZ/I said, breathing sincerity from every pore. Before Legroeder could reply, YZ/I extended a hand past him. “And Commander Fre’geel—thank you for coming! And Riggers.” Legroeder turned to see that Fre’geel, the Narseil riggers, and Deutsch had come in right behind him. “And… Tracy-Ace/Alfa! How good of you to join our meeting.” YZ/I’s gaze at Tracy-Ace suggested he was less than happy to see her.

“I wouldn’t miss a chance to help out with the debriefing,” Tracy-Ace said coldly. She turned to greet the others. Then she gave a brief nod to the man Legroeder just now noticed standing to one side and little behind YZ/I’s chair. Lanyard/GC. What was he doing here?

“And,” Tracy-Ace continued, “I thought perhaps I should be here to help make sure nothing else went wrong.” She stared hard at YZ/I.

Legroeder glanced at his fellow riggers, wishing he could convey with his eyes what had happened.

YZ/I sighed heavily. “Rigger Legroeder, please allow me to apologize. I did not intend for you to be treated roughly by my analysts. My instructions were to try to release the information—but to treat you only with courtesy and respect. I regret… that you had such a difficult time of it.”

Legroeder considered being diplomatic—then thought, the hell with it. “You lying asshole sonofabitch. What were you trying to do—make sure nobody could get the information from my implants?”

YZ/I raised his hands in the air. “Heavens no. I merely told my people to try to set up an interface with your implants.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I have since learned that they were neither as gentle nor as successful as I’d hoped.”

Legroeder glared. “Not as gentle or successful as you’d hoped? Is this the way you always treat people who go out and do the impossible for you?”

YZ/I winced, gesturing apologetically. He seemed to be groping for appropriate words, and failing. YZ/I glanced back at Lanyard, whose face was creased by a dark frown. “Do you folks all know my associate?” he barked suddenly, gesturing at Lanyard. “This is Group Coordinator Lanyard—a member of Outpost Ivan’s Ruling Cabinet. He’s here to observe, and to learn what he can do to help out.” YZ/I’s expression became unreadable for a moment, as Lanyard nodded stiffly to the assembled group.

Fre’geel spoke up, not letting YZ/I change the subject. “I take it you tried, and failed, to force information from Legroeder’s implants.”

YZ/I flickered a shade of pink. “Not force, Commander. We did try to encourage a sharing with his implants.”

“And in so doing, you risked grave harm to him,” Fre’geel replied, his voice light, yet hard as steel.

“Not intentionally, I assure you. Legroeder, my people didn’t do serious harm to you, did they?”

Legroeder gathered himself for another angry statement, but was interrupted by Fre’geel saying in a dry, flinty voice, “I must say, it would be a great shame if you lost all of this information that has been gathered, at such risk—because you tried to extract it, rather than cooperate with us.” The Narseil commander stood with his two hands clasped at his breast. Only a slight twitching of his gill slits, and a widening of his vertical eyes betrayed his anger.

YZ/I waved a hand in agitated reassurance. “That’s not at all the case, Commander Fre’geel. Look—your people did an outstanding job in rescuing Impris. Outstanding. I’m deeply grateful, and I intend to cooperate with you in every way we can. But—” YZ/I gestured, as though struggling with an inescapable fact “—here’s the ship, right in our docks, available for study by our techs. And here’s Legroeder, carrying some very important data in his head. Possibly—I think I heard you saying—a map of this network of quantum flaws. Right?”

Legroeder nodded slowly, silently.

“Except,” Fre’geel said dryly, “that it’s locked away in Rigger Legroeder’s implants.”

“Exactly. And you surely can understand our position. Once he leaves here, a lot can happen between his departure and our receipt of the analyzed data.”

“I do understand that. But do you understand that his implants were designed by the Narseil security forces?” Fre’geel said pointedly. “You can’t get the data, and neither can Legroeder. For that matter, neither can I. Only Narseil Security—or the Narseil Rigging Institute—can extract the information! Any effort on your part not only risks harm to Legroeder—but also jeopardizes the integrity of the data itself. Do you realize that, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan?”

YZ/I’s eyes shone abruptly with surprise and fury.

Behind him, there was a sharp intake of breath. Lanyard’s eyes were narrowed, and his lips appeared to be moving subvocally. YZ/I snapped a look back at him; his gaze darkened further.

“Double cross…” Lanyard whispered.

YZ/I face flickered several shades of crimson and orange. “Let’s not make hasty judgments,” he muttered to Lanyard. To Legroeder and the others, he said sternly, “Have you known this all along?”

Legroeder was dumbstruck. He should have known it, or guessed it. How could he have been so naive? But none of the Narseil had ever intimated, and even the implants themselves had been tightlipped. (You bastards, why didn’t you tell me?)

There was no answer.

Christ. All that time he’d sat in YZ/I lab, being worked over.

“Only Mission Command knew,” Fre’geel said, making a hissing sound that approximated a clearing of the throat. “There was no reason to share that point with my other officers.”

“And were you,” YZ/I said, almost too softly to hear, “planning to share the rigging data with us once you had extracted it?” His eyes had a deadly sparkle to them now.

“Of course,” Fre’geel said calmly.

Of course…

“But I’m sure you understand why we wanted to ensure our own access to the data,” Fre’geel continued. His Narseil eyes blinked slowly.

YZ/I slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “You amphibian bastards! You got that information on MY SHIP, flying MY MISSION!”

The Narseil commander made a side-to-side gesture with his right hand. “Come, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan. We were merely protecting our interests. After all, our riggers were instrumental in effecting the rescue. Do you deny our rights?”

YZ/I’s skin rippled. “I do not deny that your riggers were an asset to the mission.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Tracy-Ace interjected, “the Narseil riggers were indispensable. In fact, all of the participants were indispensable.”

“That is correct,” Legroeder said. “The Narseil. The Kyber. The Centrist. All of us.”

“Damn it,” YZ/I hissed furiously at Tracy-Ace. “You know what’s at stake here. What are you trying to do?”

“One thing that’s at stake,” Legroeder said in a soft drawl, “is our future ability to map the hazards that your fleet will face when it travels to the Well of Stars. And it would seem that that depends on your cooperating with us.”

For a moment YZ/I looked as if he had stopped breathing altogether. Finally he whispered, as though speaking to some demon dwelling deep within himself, “I’ll be a goddamned sonofabitch…”

In the discussion that followed, Lanyard/GC hovered close to YZ/I, and it was clear that a sharp conflict was playing itself out beneath the surface between them. YZ/I was asking the Narseil commander, curtly, just what he expected in exchange for sharing the information.

“Not too much,” Fre’geel said. “Safe passage for all of my crew. An unconditional end to raiding on our shipping—”

“All of our shipping,” Legroeder snapped. “Centrist as well as Narseil.”

Fre’geel looked nonplused. “Well, I can only speak for the Narseil Navy—”

“Well, I’m speaking for the Centrist worlds. In case you’ve forgotten, the data’s in my head,” Legroeder said coldly.

Fre’geel bobbed his head in acquiescence. He had no reason to object.

“One other thing,” Legroeder said. “Impris goes home first, to Faber Eridani. From there, we can request her loan to the Narseil Rigging Institute.”

“Now, excuse me, Rigger,” Fre’geel began.

“Excuse me, my ass, Fre’geel. You’re the best equipped to study her, so Captain Friedman should agree. But if not—were you thinking of replacing one form of piracy with another, and just hijacking her?”

Fre’geel stiffened, puffing air through his gills. “We were intending no such thing. But let me ask this. Do you trust the Faber Eridani authorities?”

Legroeder swallowed hard. Touché. “I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. But in any case, I’m the one you need, more than the ship.”

Fre’geel didn’t contradict him.

YZ/I gazed at Legroeder for a long time, with what seemed a new degree of respect. He shot a glance at Deutsch, floating in silence. “How much did you know about this?”

“Not a thing,” Deutsch said. “I’ve been learning a lot, listening to this conversation.”

“And so have I,” Lanyard interrupted icily. “YZ/I, it’s starting to sound as if you’re giving away the whole store here.”

YZ/I turned to Lanyard with an expression of calculated calm. “Not at all, my friend. And if you are thinking to put out false claims on that score, you had better think very carefully indeed.”

“I make no false claims,” Lanyard said rigidly.

“Let us be clear, then,” YZ/I said. “You know my position on strengthening Ivan and the Kyber Republic—through self reliance. Perhaps we’ve taxed the outworlds enough, eh? My position is that anything we can do to aid the colony fleet, we will. Now, you tell me a better bargain than one that will gain us a map of the quantum flaws that can ensure the safety of our fleet.”

Lanyard’s mouth grew tight; he was clearly taken aback. Legroeder could only marvel at the way YZ/I worked to turn what a few moments ago was a setback, into a political triumph. Lanyard strained to protest, “But what about the others? Carlotta…?”

“Ah,” YZ/I said. “There, you are right. There is Carlotta to be considered.” He turned back to Legroeder. “You met our friends from KM/C.”

“Yes. We met them. Including a couple of old colleagues of mine,” Legroeder replied grimly.

YZ/I nodded. “I did not know that you would actually meet your old shipmates. I am sorry. But you found our response satisfactory?”

Legroeder shrugged. “The escort squadron saved our lives. But it seems you took a big risk, provoking one of your allies.”

YZ/I glanced in amusement at Lanyard, who seemed startled to find himself in agreement with Legroeder. “You mean, why didn’t we negotiate with them beforehand?”

“Well, yeah.”

“They would not have agreed. Sometimes they just can’t seem to see what’s in their own best interest. They really didn’t want to see Impris rescued. Or revealed. You, Legroeder, may be the only person ever to have escaped from one of the KM/C outposts, much less to have taken word of Impris back to the Centrist Worlds.”

Legroeder shook his head. “But I wasn’t captured by KM/C. I escaped from—”

“DeNoble—a KM/C satellite.”

Legroeder blinked. “Oh.”

“So, KM/C had great visions of using Impris for the last four years of her term of exclusive use.” YZ/I shrugged. “They were going to be annoyed, no matter how we cut it. I probably would have been, too, in her place.”

“So now what?”

“So now I persuade Carlotta that she needs this map even more badly than she needed Impris. And you know what?” YZ/I glanced back at Lanyard. “I think she’s going to see the wisdom.” When his gaze came back to the others, it was full of fire. “Especially if this information of yours is as valuable as you’ve been claiming. Eh?”

“It is,” Legroeder said. He looked inward, in vain, for reassurance on that score. “I’m sure of it,” he said.

YZ/I ignored Lanyard’s obvious doubt, behind him. His face split into a mirthless grin. The room darkened, and around him and through him, images blazed up of the Kyber colony fleet, making ready for the pilgrimage. YZ/I’s voice reverberated. “Oh, it had better be. Because we’ll know where to find you. And, I might add, so will Carlotta.”

“I’m sending Freem’n Deutsch with you, as my personal representative,” YZ/I said, three days later. “He will be authorized to carry back the data, as it becomes available. And he will be capable, I think, of conveying my needs.”

The half-metal man nodded, his glass eyes glowing momentarily. “I look forward to the opportunity.”

Legroeder remembered Deutsch’s previous ambition to escape from Ivan altogether. Was this a happy compromise? He tried to imagine how the average citizen of Faber Eridani would react to the half-metal man.

“You will admit Rigger Deutsch into your Narseil Institute?” YZ/I asked Fre’geel, with only a hint of an edge to his voice.

Fre’geel assured him that Deutsch would be welcomed. All three interests—Narseil, Centrist, and Kyber—would be entitled to representation in the study of the data.

Over the last three days, they’d met several times to discuss such matters as future espionage and piracy. The Narseil promised not to attempt to lead ships back to Ivan as long as its location remained secret. In return, YZ/I would end piracy as far as Outpost Ivan was concerned. In fact, the time was coming, he said, when the Free Kyber might be interested in trying to normalize relations with the outer worlds. That time was not yet here, perhaps, but equal participation in the Impris data was a step in the right direction.

Legroeder finally had a chance to bring up the subject of Harriet’s grandson. “Remember the matter I asked you to look into? The boy—Bobby Mahoney?”

“What boy?”

Damn. “Have you forgotten? The boy who was captured at the same time I was, on the Ciudad de los Angeles.”

YZ/I focused inward for a moment. “Oh yes—six or seven years old, wasn’t he?”

“At the time. He’d be about… fourteen now, I guess.” Legroeder leaned forward. “This is important, YZ/I. He’s the only grandson of someone I owe a lot to. Can you find him? Find out if he’s still alive? Get him released, if possible?”

YZ/I raised an eyebrow. “Tracy-Ace?”

Tracy-Ace was already working at the console. “I began a search when you asked before. There was nothing in our system about him.” She looked up at Legroeder. “But you were captured by DeNoble. YZ/I?”

The Boss rubbed his chin. “We have some connections on DeNoble. It’ll be awkward, what with your having escaped from there and all—but sure, we’ll make some discreet inquiries for you. If we can help the boy, we will. Fair enough?”

Legroeder felt the knot in his chest ease. “Fair enough. And thank you.”

“Anytime,” said YZ/I.

While Impris was studied by Kyber techs, her passengers and crew were treated as guests of Outpost Ivan. For many of the passengers, it was almost irrelevant where they were; the mere fact of emerging a century and a quarter in their future was clearly disorienting. Quite a number opted to remain on the ship, venturing out only for short exploratory trips into the outpost. Captain Friedman was among those who spent more time aboard the ship than not.

Freem’n Deutsch, during the voyage back, had developed a friendship with the Impris riggers, and also with Pen Lee, the one-time assistant to Inspector Gloris Fandrang. Lee, having been trapped years ago in his vain effort to understand what was happening to Impris and her crew, now seemed trapped in another kind of incomprehensible world, inside his own mind. Deutsch had somehow made an empathic connection where others had failed. If anyone was going to be able to help Pen Lee find his way back out of that interior world, Deutsch was a good candidate, Legroeder thought.

Legroeder himself was growing increasingly anxious, waiting for departure. He had no trouble imagining all the things that might go wrong and interfere with his return to Faber Eridani. Every passing hour seemed an invitation to trouble. Tracy-Ace was extremely busy overseeing much of the activity around Impris, and in her absence Legroeder spent most of his time with the Narseil, or Freem’n Deutsch, or the Impris crew. His H’zzarrelik shipmates now had a certain degree of freedom to move about the outpost. An elaborate story was going around the outpost, a web of lies and truths and near-truths, about how the Narseil had come here under cover to collaborate with the Kyber in going after Impris, and only a terrible misunderstanding had resulted in the battle with Flechette. The story made Legroeder uneasy, but he wasn’t about to contradict it.

As for Tracy-Ace, he was at a loss as to what to think. She remained his primary helper and guide; she was still his friend, but he wasn’t sure if she was still his lover. His implants remained silent, and without the implant connection, it seemed impossible to know her mind or her desires. They hadn’t made love since his return, and he felt awkward and frustrated, and even more disconnected. Half the time Legroeder felt helplessly in love with her, and half the time he feared that he had fallen into a hopeless infatuation. Could he hope to share a life, really, with a pirate? It seemed unlikely.

Over dinner in her quarters, one evening, Tracy-Ace seemed to be reading his thoughts, as she produced a bottle of wine—real wine, apparently—and began to open it. “Legroeder, you’re tense. You’ve been tense.”

“Well—”

She popped the seal and squinted at him. “Let me guess. You think there’s a contradiction between the person you thought I was, and the person you’re afraid I am. Is that it?”

Legroeder didn’t answer. He took the wine bottle from her and studied it instead. The label was in an unfamiliar language. Where’d they get real wine here on Fortress Ivan? Did they have their own vineyards? It seemed unlikely. He handed it back and sat beside her on the edge of the bunk.

“Well, you’re right,” she said, pouring a glass and holding it up to the light. The wine had a robust claret color. Heaven knew what it was going to taste like, if it was home grown. She handed it to him.

Nervously, he took a sip, and at once felt depressed. It was much too good to be locally made. He was drinking the booty of piracy.

“YZ/I did all of the things you’re thinking of,” Tracy-Ace said. “And I’m guilty of complicity.”

“Yes?” he whispered, his voice choked off by pain.

“I’m no angel,” she said pointedly.

“But—” his voice caught “—you didn’t order—”

“Fleets out to raid shipping? No. But I worked with him; I’ve sentenced people to captivity; I can’t say I wasn’t involved.”

Guilty, Legroeder thought silently. He stared at the floor, his heart aching. And what were his needs, his secret agendas? What would he hate to admit to her?

For a moment, he wished desperately for the implant connection, so that he could get it all over with in one big exchange of confessions. A moment later, he was deeply, fervently grateful for the lack. Bad enough this way, he thought.

“YZ/I hates to admit it, Legroeder—but he’s tired of living this way. And I’m more than tired of it. Legroeder? I want the raiding to stop! YZ/I does, too—it’s just that his reasons are more pragmatic.” She waved her wine glass. “He’d say something like, ‘It makes us lazy—we’d be stronger if we made do for ourselves.’ ” She sniffed, and he couldn’t quite tell what emotion she was feeling.

“Do you believe that?” he asked.

“Sure, I believe it. But I also just want out of it. I’m sick of it.” She pressed her lips together, then said more softly, “It’s wrong and I’m sick of it. Never mind the fancy reasons.” She gazed at him, and he suddenly realized that her implants were dark and her eyes were welling with tears. For a moment, she sat crying silently, her wine glass quivering in her hand. Wiping an eye on her sleeve, she whispered, “Before you came, I didn’t like it—but I wasn’t sure why. Then I caught a glimpse of how you see it, what you went through.”

Legroeder frowned. “But I didn’t show… did I show that to you?”

“Yes, you did. I don’t think you meant to. But I’m glad you did, because it showed me what was wrong.” She seemed about to say more, then shook her head and looked away with a sigh.

Legroeder’s heart ached. He took the glass from Tracy-Ace’s hand and set it, with his own, on the end table. He gently enfolded her in his arms. She sat stiffly, and for the first time in a while he remembered that she was taller than he was. Finally she softened and sank against him, putting her head on his shoulder, shaking as she let her feelings tumble out with her tears. After a while, she lay down with her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, saying nothing.

Not long after, he realized she was asleep. He gently stretched her out on the bed and pulled a cover over her. He sat watching her for the better part of an hour, thinking about what she had told him. Thinking about his own actions.

He didn’t know what he thought. That he had succeeded in his mission and become a hero? That he had sold out to pirates—and was now paving the way for them to colonize the stars? That he had fallen for a woman whose existence was so utterly alien that he was an idiot even to dream of a common ground between them? That he didn’t care, because he loved her anyway?

He lay awake for a long time; he lay in the near darkness beside Tracy-Ace, wishing he had his old pearlgazers to use as a focus to make sense of it all. Finally he pretended that he was with Deutsch and his gazing crystals, and he carried on a long dialogue with himself on a lighted stage, imagining his implants as silent spectators. He debated the merits of collaboration with the enemy versus fighting versus fleeing, and in the end, as the curtain closed, he fell asleep, exhausted, having decided nothing.

He woke just before Tracy-Ace did. As he was attempting to sort out his blurry morning thoughts, Tracy-Ace sat up abruptly and threw off the covers. “Uh—” he said, still trying to bring last night back into focus “—Trace, you okay?”

She turned her head to gaze down at him, as if she didn’t know why he was here. Her augments were flickering madly. She seemed to be light-years away. He sat up beside her. “Ace?”

“Hi,” she said. The powerlessness and self-doubt were gone from her voice, but he wasn’t sure what had taken their place. Her silver-green eyes were alert but distracted. She seemed to focus on him for a moment. “I have to go,” she said, jumping out of bed. “Something I’ve got to have out with YZ/I. Right now.” She glanced down, brushing at the clothes she’d slept in. She grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge, took a swallow and handed the bottle to Legroeder, then headed for the door.

“Ace, wait!”

“I’ll see you la—” And then the door clicked behind her, cutting off her voice.

Legroeder stared silently after her, turning the bottle slowly in his hands.

When she hadn’t called by lunchtime, Legroeder buzzed her quarters from his own, without success. He put in a general call for her on the intelnet, and got back a brusque message saying that she was in conference, and would he please get his ass to YZ/I’s operations center, if he could find it. He presumed the latter was a reference to operations, not his ass, so he headed off to the flicker-tube.

He found YZ/I and Tracy-Ace in the middle of a shouting match. Tracy-Ace was doing most of the shouting; actually, all of the shouting. “You say you want to change things, but you don’t have the guts to just up and do it, do you?” she yelled, striding back and forth like a pacing wildcat. YZ/I’s face showed only a low, emberlike glimmer. “I hear all this goddamn talk about shaking things up, but what you mean is you want to shake up just as much as you feel comfortable with! You want to be comfortable in your virtue, don’t you, YZ/I?”

“Hello, Legroeder,” said YZ/I, nodding.

“Don’t change the goddamn subject!”

“Legroeder’s here,” YZ/I said, pointing.

Tracy-Ace turned, startled, her temple implants going like crazy. “Legroeder. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“We were just—” Tracy-Ace shook an exasperated fist at YZ/I.

“So I gathered. Just out of curiosity, may I ask—”

“No,” Tracy-Ace snapped.

A flicker of light went up YZ/I’s face. “Why not tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Legroeder asked.

YZ/I answered. “That we’re inviting some people to leave if they want to, and sending them to Faber Eridani with you. People you might call… prisoners.”

“What?” Tracy-Ace screamed.

Legroeder looked back and forth between them in confusion.

“You mean you’ve been planning to do it all along? You lying, devious sonofabitch! You’ve been toying with me all this time, claiming you can’t do it because it would be admitting guilt!”

YZ/I reached out with a hand that didn’t quite touch her arm. “Let’s say you made a very convincing argument.”

She glared at him, temples blazing.

YZ/I shrugged. “I needed you to give me persuasive arguments to use on Lanyard and his crew.”

“Fuck Lanyard and his crew!”

YZ/I grinned. “Not for me to do, dear. But I do have to watch my backside. If I’m not careful to justify it, he could make a move against me in the Cabinet. We’re not invulnerable, you know.”

“You’d annihilate him.”

“Maybe. But it would be messy. And it doesn’t pay to be overconfident.”

Tracy-Ace snarled, “So what justification are you using?”

“Why, just what you said. If we want the Centrist Worlds to play ball with us, we need to make a good-faith gesture. And it’ll send a signal to our own people that things are changing.” YZ/I cocked his head, eyes alight. “You always say these things better than I do. That’s one reason I promoted you.” He grinned again. “You know, Carlotta bet me I wouldn’t do it. I can’t wait to hear her reaction.”

Tracy-Ace turned to Legroeder. “I cannot believe this.”

“Believe it,” YZ/I said. “Now, both of you clear out of here and let me do my work, okay?”

As he left with Tracy-Ace, Legroeder said in puzzlement, “I don’t get it. Aren’t you glad he’s doing it?”

“Of course I’m glad. But the sonofabitch was toying with me. I don’t know how he gets away with it, honestly.” Tracy-Ace paused in her stride and closed her eyes for a count of three, her lips twitching as she subvocalized. Her eyes popped open again. “I’m going to have to call him on that, sooner or later. Anyway—” she drew a breath and pursed her lips in a frown. “I’m glad we’re sending some people home, I’m glad we’re pressuring KM/C, I’m glad of all except one thing.”

“What’s that?”

She turned, her eyes dark. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

They spent most of that day together, and most of it in silence. Or if not silence, then in conversation about matters technical and administrative. How to prepare and organize the Impris passengers and crew; how to present the Kyber bargain to the Fabri authorities, and the Narseil authorities.

Dinner was almost as silent; they hardly ate, pushing aside a savory meal ordered specially by YZ/I for them for the occasion. They sat on the edge of Tracy-Ace’s bed, looking at the walls, glancing at each other, scarcely touching. Then her hand went out, and his. They clasped tentatively; then hard. He touched her hair, stroked it. They began to kiss.

They made love in a frantic, almost wordless coupling. His implants remained silent; it was just the two of them, undressing each other in awkward haste. There was so much he wanted to say—and he could only say it in whispers and sighs, with his hands on her and their bodies pressing together. Her hands were all over him, drawing out his pent-up fears and his streaming, billowing desires all at the same time; and woven through it were her desires, not through the implants but through sound and scent and touch and murmured half-words. She moaned as he touched her; she didn’t want him to leave, now or tomorrow or the next day; he didn’t want to leave her at all. Their desire was bubbling over; he was already inside her in a way, but it wasn’t enough. He was holding her naked breasts, and her hands were moving on him, and he was breathing so fast he couldn’t think.

It was fast and slow, all at the same time. He rose against her, and she pushed back, crying out; and when they came, it was with a cascade of pain and gladness and sorrow. And then they subsided into a tangled heap, whispering and murmuring without saying a word, and yet meaning everything.

She stood with him as the entire Narseil crew filed past onto Impris. They were the last to board, except for Legroeder. “I will come and see you,” Tracy-Ace said softly. “When I can.”

“How? When?” he murmured. He was having trouble talking, with the lump in his throat.

She looked away. “I can’t say, exactly. When I can.”

He nodded, but it was hard to believe. Node Alfa of Fortress Ivan, visiting Faber Eridani?

She grabbed his arm suddenly. “Legroeder! I almost forgot! Rings!”

“What?”

“That boy—Bobby Mahoney?”

His pulse quickened. “What about him?”

Tracy-Ace had a look of intensity on her face; she was focused inward, on her augments. “A source on DeNoble found a record of the boy being taken from DeNoble to another outpost.”

“Yes?”

“The trail ended there, from his point of view. But he thought that someone more highly placed might be able to pick it up.”

Legroeder frowned. “Which leaves us where? Do you have someone more highly placed?”

“Well—KM/C is pretty highly placed.”

Legroeder opened his mouth, closed it. “I thought you guys were practically mortal enemies!”

“Well… you’d be surprised how much we can compartmentalize our agreements and disagreements. There’s a certain… I guess you could call it a code of—” She hesitated.

“What? Honor among thieves?”

Tracy-Ace reddened. “Basically, yes. I mean, a ship here and a ship there… it’s almost like chips in a board game. That may sound cruel—”

“It is cruel.”

“Yes, it is. But it’s their way. You heard YZ/I talking about a bet he had with KM/C? Well, I’ve been leaning on him to include finding that boy and giving him his freedom, as part of the payoff when we win.”

Legroeder was astounded. “Do you really think there’s hope?”

“There’s always hope.”

“Harriet will be very happy to hear that,” Legroeder said softly, almost to himself. Cocking his head, he asked, “Do you mind if I ask—what exactly is this bet?”

She shrugged, a little smile on her face. “You’ll find out soon, I imagine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. Promise.”

“Rigger Legroeder,” called one of the ship’s officers from the hatch. “The captain is ready for departure.”

“They need you.” Tracy-Ace swallowed, gazing at him.

“I hate this,” he said hoarsely.

“I do, too,” Tracy-Ace whispered. She leaned into him and kissed him earnestly. “I love you, I think. Good-bye.”

Legroeder still felt the pressure of her lips as he turned and boarded Impris.

Chapter 38 Going Public

The pursuit was getting faster. The Narseil driver, flying low through the suburban streets, had put some distance between the embassy van and their overhead pursuit; but another floater-van, a white one, had appeared out of nowhere to their left and was trying to pull alongside them.

“Stay down!” Peter ordered Harriet, before snapping another street direction to the Narseil driver.

My God, not again, Harriet thought, recalling the attack on their approach to the McGinnis house. Could these people know about the McGinnis data? They’d already shown their willingness to kill.

Assistant Ambassador Dendridan had been on the com to the embassy. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver, then said to Harriet, “We’re on our own for the next few kilometers. But we’ve got the edge, eh? I doubt their drivers can see into the future. Brace yourself.”

An instant later, the restraint-field kicked on as the driver spun the van violently around an acute right turn, thrusters whining. The white van missed the turn, and could be heard, shrieking, trying to avoid other vehicles as it braked. The Narseil driver veered past two ground-cars and rocketed up a ramp onto a high-speed glideway. Before Harriet could catch her breath, they’d hurtled down the next ramp off the glideway, then careened around to get back on it, headed in the other direction.

“Carefully,” Dendridan cautioned.

“Absolutely,” said the driver.

“Hit it,” said Peter. As they shot down the expressway, he craned his neck to look skyward for possible attack from above. “Our flyer friend is staying with us. Dendridan, you said they’d pick us up at Third and Park?”

“That’s right,” Dendridan said calmly. He looked at Harriet, his eyes widening. “Breathe, Mrs. Mahoney.”

Harriet gasped; she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

Minutes passed. “About three seconds now,” Peter said. They veered suddenly to the left and came down off a ramp into the downtown area. “There they are!” They were abruptly flanked by three green floaters similar to their own van. One cut directly behind them; the other two closed in on either side.

“Yours?” Harriet wheezed.

“Ours,” Dendridan murmured. “Now, let’s proceed home with all due speed, shall we?”

Peter peered back from the front seat with a crooked Clendornan grin. “I see we have police coming up behind. I wonder if they’re here to stop us or protect us.”

Harriet glanced back uneasily. She was still technically a fugitive for helping Legroeder jump bail; she didn’t want to deal with the police right now. The diplomatic protection was no doubt causing strains in higher echelons; it might have its limits. She turned forward again. “Don’t let the police stop us. How much farth—?”

Her question was cut off as the Narseil driver punched in full power, blasting through an intersection where the white van had just reappeared from the right. Peter started to say something, but was drowned out by a scream of thrusters and a sickening CRUNCH! Harriet looked back, horrified to see the right-flanking Narseil floater spinning around in the air, twisted together with the white van. “Mother of God,” she breathed.

The sight was cut off as their own driver took one last turn, then blazed the final block to the entry gate of the Narseil Embassy. “We’re in!” Peter cried, as the embassy gates opened to receive them. He craned his neck to look up, as the pursuing flyer peeled off into the sky.

“Very good,” Dendridan said, as the van slowed to a stop in the underground parking garage. “Are you all right, Mrs. Mahoney?”

Harriet let her breath out with a shudder. “I’m fine. But what about your people back there?”

Dendridan was listening to the com. “We have help on the scene. Several of our staff members were hurt—apparently none seriously. I can assure you a protest will be filed. But in the meantime, we are safely back and I think we should get inside as quickly as possible.”

Harriet looked out the window, where one of their escort-floaters had followed them into the compound. She sighed in gratitude. “Your people, they know how to provide a rescue squad, don’t they?”

Dendridan’s face creased in a Narseil smile. “If those people were willing to threaten a diplomatic floater, they must be very frightened of what we can do. Please, Mrs. Mahoney—let us go see how we can help you use this information you have gained.”

As the embassy staff brought in beverages and platters of seafood and fruit, Peter set up equipment to replay the McGinnis-implant reading. “Counselor Corellay gave this reading a confidence level of nine,” he explained to high-level embassy officials who had come in to see what the excitement was about. “That means we can use it in court. It carries roughly the weight of a notarized deposition—almost as much as verbal testimony.”

“Let’s view it,” said Dendridan, who had just returned from briefing Ambassador Nantock.

Harriet set aside her cup of tea and took a seat. During the live reading, she had been absorbing impressions and getting the general picture. This time her lawyer’s mind would be running at full speed.

The replay took two hours, with numerous pauses and backtrackings. But when it was done, Harriet’s mind was afire with the import of what they had learned. They might not be able to convict anyone solely on the basis of this evidence, but it could be the wedge they needed to crack the whole conspiracy open. If they could get new investigations started, especially in the press, and if other sources could be persuaded that the conspiracy was crumbling and they should talk…

Harriet turned to speak to Dendridan and realized for the first time that Ambassador Nantock had joined them. He was an old Narseil, probably El’ken’s contemporary. His grey-green scaled face was wrinkled in thought. He inclined his head toward her. “Mrs. Mahoney, I believe you’ve got some damning evidence here. It could strengthen the Narseil position on several matters that have concerned us for a long time.” His gill openings billowed. “Spacing Authority collaboration with Centrist Strength—who openly advocate discord with our people? And possible links to the Kyber pirates?” The Narseil shook his head in amazement.

“Are you going to take an official position on this?” Harriet asked. “Or is there anything in particular you would like me to do?”

Ambassador Nantock raised his hands. “We will protest the entire chain of events—and all of the implications that go with it. We may attempt to enlist the help of Secretary General Albright. It is hardly a secret that Commissioner North and others have been pressuring us to give you up into their custody.”

“No. Not a secret,” Harriet said softly. Gratefully.

“Have no fear, Mrs. Mahoney. If your work is so dangerous to them that they have to resort to sending outlaw groups to stop you—”

“We don’t actually have proof yet that there was any official involvement in that pursuit, Mr. Ambassador,” Peter reminded him.

“Perhaps not,” said the ambassador. “But we have good holo evidence of the vans that were pursuing you, and we have already linked one of them to Centrist Strength. And one link does tend to lead to another.” Ambassador Nantock paused in thought. “If you were to publish your findings on the worldnet—and solicit information from anyone who might be willing to come forward—” he paused again, his neck-sail stiffening “—especially concerning the sale of weapons to Centrist Strength—”

“Then we just might flush the vermin into the light,” Peter said.

Harriet nodded, thinking out loud. “Mr. North and his friends must be quite alarmed right now. And if they can be pressured into making a mistake—”

“Exactly,” said the ambassador.

The detailed plan took the rest of the day to work out. Rather than posting the entire text of Counselor Corellay’s reading for public view, they decided to create a summary, with a request for reply from anyone with direct knowledge of the facts. In addition, they would put up a discussion space for anyone who wanted to comment. By creating massive public awareness of the accusations, they hoped to generate as much pressure as possible on North, the Spacing Authority, and the RiggerGuild to come forward with a response. Harriet generally disapproved, in principle, of prosecution by publicity—and even now she felt a certain uneasiness in taking that route. But her reservations paled in light of the two attempts on her life.

As their preparations neared completion, Peter excused himself to take a call. When he returned, his eyes were lit up like tiny violet lanterns, and he wore a dazzling, crinkly grin on his face.

Harriet looked up from her compad. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen an angel.”

“Almost that good,” Peter said. “They have Maris! Morgan and Georgio and Pew. They’re on their way back with her right now!”

Harriet whooped in delight. She jumped up and grabbed Peter and danced him in a circle. When she let go of Peter, she turned dizzily to Dendridan. “Do you think we could bring them here? Would you mind?”

“Mind?” said Dendridan. “We’d be delighted. Please send word to your people, and ask if they’d like a diplomatic escort.”

Peter laughed. “I can already tell you, the answer is yes. But the way Pew drives, I wouldn’t be surprised if they got here before your escort reached them.”

Dendridan hissed a chuckle and spoke into his com-unit. “It is on its way,” he said with a nod.

“Thank you,” Harriet whispered.

“And now,” said the Narseil, “weren’t you almost ready to make that posting to the net?”

Harriet forced her gaze back to the screen, scanning the work they had done. “Yes,” she said softly, and reached out to begin the transmission.

Jenkins Talbott poured himself a double shot of lace-bourbon and sat back in front of the com-console in his living room. The news feeds were coming in, and they were damned depressing.

Especially after his dressing down today, with Colonel Paroti and a few others, right there in the Strength offices…

“…What the hell’s the matter with you people? You call yourselves soldiers? Officers? I send you on a few errands, and you can’t get even the simplest, most basic things done right!” It was Ottoson North at his most arrogant—and since the man usually never even let himself be seen or associated with them in any way, you knew he was pissed. He’d been lighting into one of them after another. Now it was Talbott’s turn. “You!” North pointed a finger right at Talbott’s face. “You can’t grab a comatose woman without getting shot to pieces—and then you come away empty-handed? Are you just incompetent, or were you trying to screw up?”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that—”

“And you!” North, ignoring Talbott’s protests, turned next on Paroti. “I ask you to stop a van—a fucking van! How hard can that be? And you botched that one, too, even though I told you it was urgent, but you fucked it up, and now I’ve got this Mahoney bitch spreading lies about me all over the fucking worldnet!”

“We did our best, Commissioner,” Paroti said, his face as red as a beet. “But since we were forbidden to use weapons…”

“Excuses! Don’t give me excuses,” North said in disgust. “Well, now we’re knee-deep in shit. Listen, if I need your help, I expect you to be ready to jump when I say jump. Let’s see if you morons can do it right, next time.”

“Of course, sir,” Paroti muttered. “If I might say—”

But North’s holoimage had already winked out, leaving Paroti, Talbott, and other loyal Strength officers standing stunned…

Humiliated.

Angry.

They didn’t deserve this kind of crap.

Talbott squinted, sighing, looking around his living room as if he’d never seen it before. God, what a shithole. Had it always been this bad? Empty food cartons, dirty clothes, and data-cubes everywhere—not quite the military spit and polish. The damned place looked like it was going to seed. But then, so the fuck what? His living room was no one’s business.

Talbott was still angry, very angry. And why shouldn’t he be? North wasn’t even the worst of it. Everything just kept going from bad to worse. His shoulder hurt like christo from the thistlegun wound. Thistlegun, for chrissakes! The Fabri dinks! Who’d’ve expected them to butt in? They’d damn near killed him. And though he’d bite off his tongue before he’d admit it in public, he owed his life to Lieutenant Bitch, who’d pulled him to safety.

His pride hurt more than his shoulder, though. All these years he’d worked to get where he was in the org; and just when it was starting to count—they finally had the makings of a decent assault fleet for when the time came to use it—everything just went to shit. Not just his personal pride, either; his pride in Strength, too. They’d failed to grab Maris O’Hare; they’d failed the grab of Harriet Mahoney; and now Mahoney was just warming up with her skewering of Ottoson North, who could spill a hell of a lot more than those yokels on the outside knew. Talbott never did trust the bastard. But if North went down talking, he could take a lot of people with him—Talbott included. He’d managed to keep from being publicly connected with Strength so far (not counting that horseshit a couple years ago about the arms sales, but that had blown over). The heat was on now, though. With Mahoney putting that stuff out on the net, people were coming out of the woodwork to back it up.

Talbott paged grimly through some of the accusations that were making the rounds. Bad stuff. With the vultures of the press on it, Strength could be in some serious trouble. They weren’t ready yet to make their move for control of the government—and now it might never happen.

He paused to take a long pull on his lace-bourbon. Shuddering as it went down, he morosely turned the glass in his hand, glaring at the reddish-orange liquid, waiting for the burning to subside. Why the hell did he drink this stuff, anyway? Because it feels good, once you get over that first belt… He shrugged and took another swallow.

Come to think of it, he reflected through the numbness, North was the cause of a lot of Strength’s troubles—besides just being a supercilious asshole. No one in command wanted to talk about it, but it was true. Ever since that rigger escaped from Carlotta—and North blew it as far as keeping Legroeder out of trouble—everything had gone to hell in a handcart. Everything the dedicated Strength members had been working for, for years and years… just slipping away like sand through your fingers.

Christ, look at this stuff on the net…

Talbott didn’t mind if North himself went down. But somebody was going to have to watch real close, to make sure the rest of them didn’t go with him.

He drew a deep breath, pulled the keypad into his lap, and began typing instructions to his group leaders. Maybe Command was paralyzed by this—he’d gotten no answers to his questions about what the hell they should be doing to respond—but at least he could get his own crews ready. “…Essential to be prepared for any eventuality. If group security is compromised, we must be ready to act independently. All militia units, ground and space, are to be at full state of readiness. This is what we trained for, people…”

When you got right down to it, Talbott reflected, it was possible that someone would have to be prepared to silence North. The thought gave him goose bumps; he didn’t like the idea of removing a commanding officer, even one who fucked up this bad. But it might have to be done. And it would take someone who cared more about mission and destiny, and about Centrist Strength, than about his own life.

Jenkins Talbott had never been afraid of sacrifice. That was really what it was all about, right? Damn straight.

He squirted the message and scanned more of the news feeds with growing gloom, and hardening determination.

He took another swallow of lace-bourbon.

Yeah, sacrifice is what it’s all about. No guts, no glory…

Maris O’Hare arrived that evening, brought in by Morgan and Peter’s men. She looked pretty shaky, and more than a little wary, but Morgan had spent the trip back to Elmira briefing her on what their relationship was to Legroeder—and why they’d had to take refuge in the Narseil embassy. Maris was a dark-haired, muscular woman; but she looked hurt, and walking was obviously an effort. Her face was lined, her neck bandaged, her eyes tired and wary. It was a wonder she was alive at all. She followed the embassy staff to a room where she could rest while they all got acquainted. The rapid appearance of a robodoc and a Narseil physician seemed to reassure her.

“I’m very happy to meet you at last,” Harriet said, squeezing her hand as the robodoc began fussing over her. “Legroeder was worried sick about you. He went to see you whenever he could, while you were in the hospital in a coma.”

Maris drew a slow breath, clearly making an effort to relax. She looked both bewildered and touched to find herself surrounded by friends; at least, that’s how Harriet hoped Maris saw them. Even the tentacled Gos’n and the Swert had solicitously remained nearby. “I’ve been worried about Legroeder, too,” Maris said finally. “Where is he?”

Harriet glanced at Morgan. “You didn’t tell her?”

“She told me he’d gone off-planet,” Maris said. “Looking for information to clear his name.”

Morgan smiled ruefully. “I didn’t want to hit her with too much at once.”

“Too much what?” demanded Maris, pushing the robodoc out of the way to sit forward.

Harriet winced a little. “It’s complicated. He did go off planet looking for information. You see, they were going to throw him in jail here—”

“Morgan told me that.”

“Yes. Well, you see—” Harriet swallowed “—he’s gone on a somewhat… risky… mission with the Narseil.”

“The Narseil? To do what?”

“To, uh, go back to Golen Space—”

“What?”

“—to try to infiltrate a pirate stronghold.”

Maris looked as if she might faint. “He went back to the pirates?”

“Well, not to the same stronghold—but yes,” Harriet muttered, remembering all too well whose advice Legroeder had been following. “It sounds crazy, I know. But it seemed the only way to make good this escape. To prove he was innocent of the trumped up charges he was facing here.” Harriet shook her head. It sounded utterly mad, now. What could they have been thinking? Her voice trembled as she continued, “That was about eight weeks ago. The last report we had was that they had met and captured a pirate ship, and were going to attempt to penetrate the raider’s home port.”

“But why?” Maris whispered.

Harriet felt her voice growing heavy. “To try to gain intelligence about the pirates’ use of starship Impris to prey on shipping. Do you know about Impris?”

Maris closed her eyes, nodding, then shaking her head. “I’ve heard of it, sure. I never knew if it was real, though.” She opened her eyes, staring up at Harriet, then glancing at all the others, as though wondering if she had fallen into the hands of yet another group of crazies.

“Oh, it’s real,” Harriet said. “Maris, dear, there’s a lot we have to tell you…”

The posting on the net had attracted attention at once, both from the news media and the public at large. Peter and Harriet used their connections in the news business to the fullest; stories about the implant reading and the car chase were in the late-night news, and in the morning there were news analyses of the legal status of Level 9 implant interpretations. By noon, the first denials from Commissioner North’s office had replayed endlessly, and several news groups had exhumed file holos and data on Centrist Strength and begun a fresh round of investigative reporting.

Harriet found the process at once sobering and exhilarating. It was astounding how fast the press could move in response to a whiff of corruption and vulnerability in high office. And on the net, anecdotal stories poured in. Peter hired additional people to search and sort, trying to separate the wheat from the chaff. It was mostly typical net ranting…

***************

BREAKER29: If he’s guilty, we ought to GET HIM OUTATHERE. I mean, here the guy’s RUNNING THE WHOLE FRICKIN’ WORLD!

***************

JUDYJOHN: Excuse me, could we do with a little less exaggeration? He’s not running the world, he’s running the Spacing Authority. And all we have is rumors. Are we going to convict somebody on the basis of rumors?

***************

CAN-DO: Well, the Spacing Authority is practically the world. I mean, it’s the most powerful agency in the world. Shouldn’t we have someone there we can trust?

***************

SKIPJACK: Trust???? You trust a lawyr whose on the lamb from the law? Give me an f’in’ break…

***************

Even the talk in North’s favor seemed to increase the pressure on him to make a response. The day after Harriet’s posting, North issued a strong denial. But he had not yet made a personal appearance.

In the embassy lounge, news reports played nonstop. To Harriet the reports were almost hypnotic…

Newscaster: “…Joran Philips, live with two professors from the Sota University Policy Institute. Jonathan Dutt is a longtime specialist in political history, and Professor Daniel Marshall has been studying the fringe group Centrist Strength for more than ten years. Gentlemen, what about these accusations against Commissioner North? Is there any substance to them?”

Professor Dutt: “None that I can see. You have to understand, accusations of this sort pop up in any administration. If Ms. Mahoney has some real evidence against the Commissioner, why doesn’t she come out and present it in a court of law, instead of hiding behind the Narseil Embassy? Maybe we should be asking what role the Narseil are playing in all this.”

Newscaster: “But we have an affidavit, apparently admissible in court, that Commissioner North has been involved in illicit weapons deals with the fringe group Centrist Strength. Don’t you think that’s something of a bombshell?”

Professor Marshall: “Joran, it sure could be.”

Dutt: “If they can prove it’s true.”

Marshall: “Of course. But some of these claims are pretty indicative—including a couple that have surfaced on the net in the last twelve hours, that there may have been more weapons deals. I’ve been saying for years that there needs to be more accountability. No question, if North wanted to make those weapons deals, he could have.”

Newscaster: “And if he did? Centrist Strength—for all its rhetoric about building up Faber Eridani—has been rumored to have connections with outlaw worlds of the Kyber alliance.”

Dutt: “Rumors! Allegations! Why would North want to make deals with Centrist Strength? He’s hardly an apologist for them. And he’s been a vocal opponent of any rapprochement with the outlaw worlds.”

Marshall: “Vocal, yes. But when you look at the people he’s appointed to serve in the Spacing Authority, you find no fewer than four known extremist sympathizers.”

Dutt: “Well, that’s just a gross generalization…”

Marshall: “Plus there’s evidence that he owes a significant personal debt to Centrist Strength…”

***************

LIKEMINDED: ’S’not just this one guy, you know. You gotta drill down. He’s got people under him, and I wouldn’ be surprised if the whole damn place was rotten to the core.

***************

HACKWOMAN: If anyone’s interested, I’ve got a list of all the places North contacted by secure channel in the last two years. A friend of mine burrowed in and got some VERY interesting data. Y’know, I wonder if that lawyer lady might like to see it…

***************

SAMSAM: What is this, a godd*mn lynch mob?

***************

TRUTHWILLRULE: Dunno about a lynch mob, but isn’t it true what I read, that North had this lover—not a human—I think it was a Delta Aeregian…

***************

JIM824: old news… years ago… died of an incurable neuron fungus.

***************

TRUTHWILLRULE: I know it died. But Centrist Strength paid for some kind of experimental treatment, before it died… that’s what I read, anyhow…

***************

[Newscaster…]

“Here at FaberNews, we’re going live with Commissioner Ottoson North in his first public statement since the potentially damning accusations were released. The commissioner is apparently ready to speak now…”

[An angry North, in full dress uniform…]

“…nothing but vicious, unfounded rumor. Let me state flatly that I am completely innocent of all the charges that have been slung about. I remind you that not a single accusation has been made where it counts—in a court of law. If anyone has evidence, let them confront me with it in person, instead of this cowardly hiding in a foreign embassy and leaking libelous trash to the net. In fact, I call right now upon the Narseil Embassy to turn Mrs. Mahoney over to the police, and let her face the legal charges that stand against her.

“In the meantime, let me assure all the citizens of Faber Eridani that I will tolerate no interference in the affairs of this Spacing Authority by any outsider, including and especially members of any fringe group or the Kyber alliance.”

[Finger stabbing at the camera…]

“If they want to interfere in our business, let ’em come and see how we deal with outsiders. Let ’em come—!”

*

Harriet froze the screen. For a long time, she stared thoughtfully at that angry, righteous image. Was it intuition, or wishful thinking, on her part? It seemed to her that the longer North protested, the more those angry eyes betrayed the soul of a man with a great deal to hide…

Chapter 39 Return to Faber Eridani

Impris emerged from the Flux just inside the orbit of Janus, the largest of the gas giants of the Faber Eridani system. Their destination, the planet that shared the name of its sun, lay half a billion kilometers further in. Legroeder and Deutsch grinned across the net at each other, and Palagren and Ker’sell hooted a Narseil cheer. They left the net together and gathered on the bridge with Captain Friedman and the rest of the Impris crew. “Welcome home,” Legroeder said to the captain.

“Thank you,” Friedman answered softly, his voice trembling with emotion. He gazed silently at the monitors, nodding as the nav officer confirmed the star system and their orbital path. Legroeder could see it on Friedman’s face: Home, at last. Friedman sighed finally, and broke into a smile. “Thank you for everything,” he said to the riggers, extending his gesture to Fre’geel and the other Narseil officers. Solemnly he went around the bridge, shaking hands.

Impris was alone now on the final leg of her return, back in normal-space for the first time since the start of her ill-fated journey one hundred twenty-four years ago. The Ivan escort had stopped at the edge of Faber Eridani territorial space. The time might come when Free Kyber ships could enter that space freely, but it wasn’t here yet.

Legroeder wondered what Captain Friedman and the others were feeling as they approached their home port after a century away. To say that Legroeder himself felt mixed emotions would have been an understatement. His thoughts veered from Tracy-Ace, and a time on Ivan that already seemed a lifetime away, to growing apprehension about his return to Faber Eridani. He presumed he was still a fugitive, and it was possible he was walking right back into captivity. Was it too much to hope that in bringing Impris back from limbo he had exonerated himself in the eyes of the law?

Captain Friedman finished logging the ship’s status, then turned to the Narseil commander. “If you’d like to contact your colleagues now, you may go ahead and do so.”

Fre’geel signaled Cantha, who had been working with Com Officer Tiegs throughout the flight. Cantha placed the call to El’ken’s asteroid.

The plan was to report first to El’ken, and through him to the Narseil Naval authorities. Captain Friedman felt that the Narseil should be the first to learn the results of the mission that they had taken the risk of mounting; and while it would undoubtedly annoy the Faber Eri Spacing Authority not to be told first, Legroeder suspected that it might be to his advantage to have the Narseil already behind him.

“On the com now,” Cantha reported.

“El’ken!” Fre’geel called.

“Is that you, Fre’geel? Are you really still alive?” said a husky voice from the console. Legroeder was surprised how good it was to hear the voice of the Narseil historian.

“This is Fre’geel—and I have Rigger Legroeder with me, and Palagren, and all of the surviving crew that penetrated raider Outpost Ivan. Have you heard from H’zzarrelik? We weren’t able to contact them again.”

“H’zzarrelik returned safely to base,” said El’ken. “We knew about your battle with a Kyber ship, and that you were attempting the penetration. But that was the last we heard. What success did you have?”

Fre’geel glanced at Legroeder and cracked an almost human smile. “Better than you can imagine.”

“Please elaborate!” El’ken cried, his excitement audible through the com-link. “What ship are you in now? The captured raider?”

“No, not the raider.” Fre’geel started to say more, then waved Legroeder over instead. “Would you like to tell him?”

Legroeder laughed and leaned toward to the console. “El’ken, this is Legroeder! Speaking to you from the deck of a legend…”

The conversation with El’ken was a lengthy one. After bringing El’ken up to date, the Narseil on both ends voiced concerns about whether Impris—or for that matter, Legroeder—would be free to continue on from Faber Eridani to the Narseil Rigging Institute. El’ken proposed that Legroeder be picked up by a Narseil diplomatic ship and brought to his asteroid for safety, a suggestion endorsed by Fre’geel. Legroeder was sorely tempted, but in the end he refused. Perhaps he was being stupid; but having come this far with Impris, he was determined to bring her the rest of the way home. Impris was of Faber Eridani registry and carried nearly four hundred Faber Eri citizens. It seemed unlikely that the ship itself would be in danger, whatever he personally might have to endure. And as for himself, he’d lived under a cloud long enough. It was high time this business was settled.

“Do I still have a lawyer on Faber Eridani?” he asked El’ken.

The historian hesitated, clearly reluctant to give up on his proposal. “Yes, you do,” he said finally. “She has been living in our embassy on Faber Eridani, and working diligently on your behalf. She’s compiled a sizable brief on the misdeeds of your authorities, in fact. Shall I send her word of your return? I can perhaps send more secure messages from here than you can from a civilian liner.”

“Please do,” Legroeder answered, thinking with a pang, Harriet, living in the Narseil embassy? To stay out of jail, on my account?

“And Rigger Legroeder—” El’ken said, interrupting his thoughts. “You might like to know, you’ve been cleared in the matter of Robert McGinnis’s death. At least you won’t have that hanging over you.”

Legroeder closed his eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

“Rigger Legroeder? Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Yes. Thank you, El’ken. That’s very good news.” He grunted and straightened up from the console, feeling a sudden lump in his throat. Somehow that last item had brought it all back with a sharp jolt of reality. McGinnis’s death, and all the threats that awaited him on Faber Eridani.

Fre’geel spoke a while longer with El’ken, discussing ways they might protect Narseil interests in information gleaned from the rescued starship, including dispatching a Narseil diplomatic ship to follow Impris in. Legroeder left them to work that out among themselves. But as Impris continued its long fall inward toward Faber Eridani, he felt his anxieties rising. Was he a fool not to have taken the Narseil up on their offer of protection?

Soaring toward the golden-white sun and the planet of Faber Eridani, Legroeder could only imagine how the passengers must be reacting, as they watched the growing image of Faber Eri on their viewscreens. Captain Friedman stood for long periods of time on the bridge with his hands clenched, eyes focused on the growing orb of his ship’s home port. Soon they would be calling for a tow to guide them into final planetary orbit.

As they passed the outer markers for inbound starships, Captain Friedman gave the order to contact Approach Control. Com Officer Tiegs made the call. “Outer Orbit Approach, this is Starship Impris, Faber Eridani registry Sierra Alfa Niner Four Two Seven Two, with you at half a million kilometers. Transponder ident active on eight-niner-one Alfa…” A newer ship would have made the contact automatically, but they were lucky Impris’s com systems were compatible at all.

The reply from Approach Control shocked Legroeder: “Ship identifying as Impris, Outer Orbit Approach One. Change to vector three-two-seven Tango Charlie and proceed to holding orbit at four hundred thousand kilometers. Do NOT approach any closer to Faber Eridani.”

Tiegs glanced up in surprise. He adjusted the com settings. “Outer Approach, say again?”

The instructions were repeated. “Any attempt to approach this planet will result in immediate police action…”

The captain summoned his officers to a hurried conference. Legroeder could only admit his surprise and advise the captain to go along with the orders.

They were not alone for long in the holding orbit. Two interplanetary destroyers were approaching at high acceleration. The lead destroyer contacted them with a curt: “Ship identified as Impris, this is Spacing Authority Destroyer Vigilant. Prepare to be boarded for inspection. You are ordered to shut down all propulsive systems. Any unauthorized maneuvers will be considered hostile and subject to immediate response.”

Legroeder stared at the warships in dismay and disbelief. Was this to be a replay of his first arrival, only worse?

“What the hell is going on?” Captain Friedman asked in bewilderment, with a tinge of anger in his voice. “This is our home planet! Do they think we’re an enemy? A threat?”

“They’re quarantining us, I think.”

“Why? Do they think we have some kind of space disease?”

Legroeder shook his head. “I think this is political, not medical.” Were they after him? This would be overkill, even if they knew he was aboard. But who knew what might have gone on in his absence? “Captain, I’m worried about who’s in charge down there. Given what happened to me last time, I would be… reluctant… to let them board us way out here, if we can avoid it.”

But what could they do? They couldn’t fight—though for a moment, he fantasized having his finger on the button of H’zzarrelik’s concealed weapons. He shivered. A glance at Agamem, the Narseil weapons officer, suggested that he was not the only one harboring fantasies.

“Got to be a misunderstanding,” Friedman muttered. “Tiegs, send our ident again.” He paced the deck for a moment, then strode to the com. “This is Captain Noel Friedman of Impris. We are Faber Eridani citizens. We have been stranded in space for one hundred and twenty-four years. We are a registered starliner of Faber Eridani, with civilians on board. I demand you explain this treatment.”

“We are aware of your claim,” answered the destroyer. “You are being detained under Special Provision, Section 128-d of the Spacing Authority Code, by order of the Commissioner. Match orbit and turn off your space inductors. This is your final warning.”

Friedman muttered orders to the maneuvering crew, then glanced at Legroeder. “Looks as though we’re going to be boarded, like it or not.”

Legroeder thought furiously. Why the hostility? Confusion, he’d expected—or skepticism. Even caution might be called for—a prudent medical quarantine, perhaps—but that could be done in a far less bellicose fashion. That left one possibility that he could think of: someone in the Spacing Authority didn’t want Impris coming home. Did they really have that much stake in perpetuating a lie? “Captain, if you can find any way to stall—and see if we can get a signal out onto the worldnet on Faber Eri. Make some kind of broadband announcement of who we are and what’s happening…” He frowned, wondering if they could somehow reach Harriet.

“Tiegs, did you hear that? Get on it!”

“Captain, I don’t know how to tie in—”

Cantha slid into place beside him. “I’ll help. I know the Centrist nets.”

“Good. Legroeder, do we have any allies on the ground? Any remnant of Golden Star Lines? Any surviving officers? Anyone who might have a legal interest in our return?”

Legroeder rubbed his jaw. “Besides my lawyer, none that I know of. There was chaos after the war, and then a deliberate cover-up. But people still know about you. I think the worldnet is our best bet. Try to get picked up on the news.” He pointed to the destroyers moving against the stars, like two sharks in the night. “This far from the planet, that’s probably our best protection against our friends out there opening fire and asking questions later.”

Fre’geel stepped forward in agitation. “Captain, it was clearly a mistake to come here without advance preparation—but it’s not too late to get a message off to our diplomatic ship. And our embassy. They can apply some pressure.” Fre’geel shot Legroeder an enigmatic glance. Annoyance, for rejecting El’ken’s plan?

“By all means,” Friedman said, gesturing to the com. He leaned over Tiegs. “How are you doing on that announcement?”

“Sending a first burst now, Captain. We didn’t have time to say anything fancy—”

“We don’t need fancy—just get word out that we’re here!”

“First announcement away. Cantha, are you ready with the next?—oh hell!—Captain, message from destroyer Vigilant.”

“Put it on.”

“Ship identifying as Impris, you are ordered to cease your transmissions at once—”

Friedman jabbed a finger. “Don’t answer. Finish those messages! Fre’geel, have you gotten your messages out yet?”

“I’m sending blind,” said the Narseil. “No replies yet.”

Friedman reached across Tiegs to open a third channel. “Vigilant, this is Impris. Say again? Your signal was garbled. Did you say—?”

“Look out!” cried several of the Narseil at once.

An instant later, there was a flash of blue-green light from the lead destroyer.

“They’ve fired at us!” cried Johnson, on the nav console. His voice held steady. “Tracking now—it’s a missile, aimed for our bow!”

“Reverse space inductors!” Friedman shouted. “Sound collision alarms!”

Legroeder grabbed for support as he felt a momentary change in gravity.

The missile billowed into a prolonged, exploding swath as it streaked past the ship’s bow, only a few kilometers wide. It had obviously been intended as a warning—but a deadly clear one.

Fre’geel hissed a stream of Narseil epithets. Legroeder didn’t say a word; he stared into the monitor, feeling his eyes bulge. Had he brought Impris home only to see it destroyed?

The com crackled to life again. “Ship identifying as Impris, if you do not cease transmissions, the next shot will not miss.”

“They’re jamming now,” reported Tiegs.

“Cease transmission,” said Friedman. “And open my response channel.” Friedman raised his voice. “Destroyer Vigilant, I remind you that this ship carries several hundred citizens of Faber Eridani. How dare you fire upon us! I hold you responsible for the safety of—”

His voice broke off as a sudden tremor passed through the deck of the starship, causing Legroeder to grab for another handhold.

“What the hell was that?” Friedman barked.

“There!” cried Johnson, pointing to the long-ranger scanner. “Look at that!” A dozen or more ships were materializing out of the Flux—an entire armada—directly into orbit around Faber Eridani. They were far too close to the planet for safety, and the bridge continued quaking as waves of gravitational disturbance passed through Impris.

Legroeder shuddered. If those riggers had miscalculated even a little, those ships could have slammed into the planet’s crust like cannon balls.

“Are those people idiots? Who are they?” Friedman demanded.

“They’re Kyber ships!” Deutsch said. “Look at them!”

Four or five of the ships were almost as close to them now as the two Faber Eri destroyers. They were moving fast—and they appeared to be maneuvering to surround Impris. But for what purpose? To capture her?

“Whose? Ivan’s?” Legroeder asked.

Deutsch was studying the screen. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure, but—”

He was interrupted by a yell from Tiegs. “Captain, they’re sending a warning to the destroyers to keep their distance!”

“Well, that’s good—I think. Isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure—wait.” Tiegs made some adjustments to the display, trying to make sense of a barrage of incoming information. “Listen to this. It’s coming from that fleet. Going out on regular com, but also onto the worldnet!”

A metallic-sounding voice filled the bridge, apparently coming from one of the Kyber ships. “…here to guarantee starship Impris’s safe passage home. We are Kilo-Mike/Carlotta, of the Free Kyber Republics. We’re not here to bother anyone, as long as you let this ship through to her home port—now. It is carrying—” the voice hesitated, as though fumbling through a script “—information vital to riggers of all worlds. Any interference with Impris could have dire consequences…”

There was more of that, followed by a challenge from the Faber Eridani destroyers. In response, the Kyber ship repeated its intention to guarantee Impris’s unimpeded passage.

On the Impris bridge, they listened to the exchange in stunned silence. This was altogether too bizarre. Legroeder felt as if events were slipping entirely out of his control.

“Captain!” Tiegs called. “We’re picking up some response on the worldnet! A lot of it. A whole series of… what did you call them, Cantha?”

“Response trees,” said the Narseil. “People are picking up on it—amazingly fast, and in large numbers. A lot of them seem to want to know if we’re who we say we are.” He put a rapidly scrolling stream of messages up on one of the com-screens. “And the news nets are starting to pick up the story. Captain, we’re becoming news all over the planet!” He touched another control, and on a second screen, multiple frames showed talking heads chattering excitedly. One, and then others, switched to high-powered telescope images of the spaceships.

“Do they know about the Kyber fleet, too?” Friedman asked.

“Yes—but I’m not sure anyone knows what to make of it. There seems to be a lot of confusion.”

“Well, I’m certainly confused,” Friedman said. He turned to Legroeder. “How much do they know about the Kyber on Faber Eridani?”

Legroeder opened his mouth and closed it. “Well… they know about the old Kyber worlds. But the Free Kyber Republic is just a fancy name for what they’d call the Golen Space pirates.”

Friedman frowned, perhaps reflecting on the nature of their recent stopover at Ivan. “Then these people… no…” He shook his head, and just watched and listened for a while.

Legroeder, looking over Tiegs’ shoulder, tried to follow the worldnet display erupting in a streaming chaos of instant messages. Did they have any filtering software that could help them make sense of this?

Before he could ask, the Kyber captain’s voice intruded again. “We’re making this port call for another reason, as well. Commissioner North of the Spacing Authority—are you listening? Our captain has a message for you.”

Commissioner North! Legroeder remembered YZ/I’s comments about Carlotta’s tentacles extending deep into Eridani affairs. Did they reach as high as the Spacing Authority Commissioner?

Apparently North was listening. After a brief delay, a voice responded on another thread: “This is Commissioner North. I don’t know you, but if you are indeed of the so-called Free Kyber, then this commissioner has just one thing to say to you: Turn your fleet around and get out of our solar system at once.” A visual image flickered onto one of the screens. It was North, glaring into a camera, with what looked like a control center in the background. “We will tolerate no interference from pirates of Golen Space.”

The channel switched back to the Kyber transmission, catching a different speaker in a laugh. A visual snapped on of a heavyset male, encrusted with augmentation, including a metal ring around his skull. “This is Captain Arden of KM/C Farhawk. Our fleet will be staying just a little longer, thank you. Hello, Ottoson—it’s good to see you again. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

North’s eyes blinked in dismay. Or was it recognition? Whatever the emotion was, it vanished beneath a mantle of unmistakable anger. “Do not assume familiarity with me, Kyber—”

His transmission was stepped on by the Kyber’s. “Commissioner North—no need to apologize for our past history. This seems as good a time as any to thank you for your excellent work on behalf of Kilo-Mike/Carlotta and the Free Kyber Republic.”

Legroeder exchanged glances with his shipmates as North’s voice strained unsuccessfully to penetrate the static created by the Kyber transmission.

The Kyber voice rose. “Citizens of Eridani, this is Captain Arden of the Kyber fleet, here to safeguard starship Impris. We mean no threat to your world. But it is time you were told: Commissioner North has been assisting us for years, with skill and devotion. Please do not blame him. His diversion of resources to our fleet has been in answer to a higher calling—reaching out to the stars, for all of humanity. We assure you, what little it has cost you will be more than offset by the gains yet to come.”

North’s voice was barely audible, his transmission hissing through the jamming. “…enough lies, you are trespassing and threatening our territory. Your presence here is an act of war.”

“Come now, Commissioner…”

Cantha murmured, above the confusion, “We’re picking up some other official transmissions here. Your Secretary General Albright has issued a plea for calm…” Cantha touched a switch, and in one corner of the main viewscreen, a heavyset, bearded man was speaking in front of the emblem of the Faber Eridani world government. Cantha started to raise the audio on that, but Captain Friedman waved it off; the Kyber captain was speaking again.

“Commissioner, you and your colleagues in the RiggerGuild performed beautifully in keeping Impris protected for us—and her history hidden, while that was necessary. We regret that you, or perhaps some of your people, became overzealous and threatened the life of Rigger Legroeder. That was never our intention—”

Legroeder frowned. It was getting harder and harder to sort out the lies, here…

“Fortunately Rigger Legroeder escaped, and has since acquitted himself with great courage in the rescue of Impris. Commissioner, there is no need for you to threaten Impris. These are returning heroes—your heroes, citizens of your world. We all have an interest in learning why she suffered the terrible fate that she did.”

The Kyber captain’s face was now on many of the news channels, as the direct transmission was fed through the nets to the entire planet. “Good people of Faber Eridani—the safety of Impris is of paramount importance to us. Your rigger scientists will no doubt want to examine her. But we also ask that she be made available to—” and was it Legroeder’s imagination or did the Kyber choke a little “—the Narseil Rigging Institute. The Narseil played a great role in her rescue, and they have a role to play yet in unlocking her secrets.”

That’s it, Legroeder thought. KM/C knows their operations are on the skids here, so they’re cutting their losses. They can’t seem like enemies, or they’ll be cut out of the findings from the mission. How long do they think they can play the innocent?

“We also request—insist upon!—safe passage for Rigger Legroeder, whose role will be no less important…”

Legroeder was aware of all eyes on the bridge turning to him. He pressed his lips together grimly.

On the com-console, messages streaming from the worldnet had become a blur, impossible to follow with the eye. Tiegs increased the number of frames on the viewscreen, until it was filled with an array of tiny faces of excited newscasters, all talking about the confrontation in space. Cantha glanced over from his attempt to filter the message stream and remarked, with wry Narseil humor, “I believe the planet knows about you now, my friend. Are you ready to fulfill your destiny?”

Legroeder grimaced.

Cantha hissed a Narseil chuckle. “I’m making some progress here. Your computer was good in its time, Captain. But the newsnets are ahead of us. Here’s one analysis of worldnet opinion…” On the main screen, a large frame showed a graphic representation of worldnet message streams, branching and growing with the live public debate. “The largest stream there represents people who want Impris brought in safely. It overlaps with people claiming Commissioner North is a Kyber collaborator. And that’s about the same size as the stream supporting him…”

Captain Friedman squinted at the display. “What’s that big band smearing across the whole frame?”

Cantha hummed. “There you have the people who are—what is the term?—scared witless about an invasion fleet in their—”

“Reply coming from North,” Tiegs interrupted.

“…these ridiculous claims! If you came to provoke a confrontation, we’ll give you one. We hold you completely responsible for any harm that may come to Impris, or any other—”

His signal again disappeared under the hiss of the stronger Kyber transmission.

“Commissioner—we mean no harm to Impris or anyone else. In fact, we have an offer to make. We invite you to come personally to our flagship for a conference, a parlay. We have worked together before; there is no reason for threats and posturing. Let us put mistakes of the past behind us.”

A break in the static. “The mistakes are yours, Kyber—”

“We feel, in light of your past service to our cause, that we owe you a place here with us…”

From the North channel there was only silence.

Freem’n Deutsch floated close to Legroeder. “Was North really working for KM/C the way they’re claiming?”

Legroeder closed his eyes, thinking about the conspiracy against him. Had that been orchestrated from the very top, by North—at the behest of KM/C? How many others were involved, and how long would it take to flush them out?

The Kyber captain concluded, “…if you accept our offer, notify us when your ship has reached orbit. We will escort Impris inward, and meet you for safe transit in low orbit. For the sake of peace, we urge you to accept. Farhawk out.”

Captain Friedman glanced at Tiegs. “Any official reaction?”

Tiegs shook his head. “Nothing from the world government yet. But listen to this news commentary…”

One of the frames containing a talking head was magnified, and a newscaster’s voice came up. “…Analysts have been comparing the Kyber statements with evidence released last week by attorney Harriet Mahoney. And they’re finding some startling points of agreement.”

Legroeder stood open mouthed. Harriet Mahoney?

On the main display, the Spacing Authority destroyers were edging away from Impris as several of the Kyber ships completed their protective gauntlet around the starliner.

“Impris, this is KM/C Kyber Farhawk. Are you able to make normal-space headway?”

Friedman answered, “Farhawk, Impris. Affirmative—though we were about to request a tow for final approach.”

“Well, follow us on in. We’ll see if anyone wants to screw with us. All right?”

Friedman’s eyes closed to slits as he contemplated this turn of events. He was clearly thinking, Do I want to fall in with a KM/C fleet? Do I have a choice? Friedman said to Tiegs, “Get me the Spacing Authority ships.” When Tiegs nodded, he said, “Vigilant, this is Impris. Do you intend to interfere with our movement?”

There was a long pause before the destroyer replied, “Impris, you are cleared to establish a one-thousand kilometer orbit.”

Captain Friedman’s eyebrows went up, as the two Spacing Authority destroyers began to accelerate away from them, toward the large, blue-and-white orb of Faber Eridani.

As they moved inward with the Kyber ships, Legroeder had for a time the surreal feeling that all spacing activities around the planet had simply frozen in a state of panic. Planetary defenses were at a state of high alert, monitoring the approaching fleet. Ships moved in their orbits, of course, but most ordinary departures and arrivals had been put on hold as traffic control waited to see if hostilities would erupt. From Spacing Commissioner North, there had been no further word.

Cantha continued to monitor net transmissions. According to the news channels, messages on the public net were coming in at a rate of half a million a minute, and were deeply divided between fear of the Kyber fleet and ambivalence over North. “Everyone’s wondering what the World Protectorate and the secretary general will have to say,” Cantha observed. So far, there had been no further official statement.

Captain Friedman, pacing nervously between the com station and the nav and helm who were flying formation with the Kyber ships, seemed to be working himself up to a dangerous level of tension. Finally he stopped and cried out, “Would someone, for God’s sake—” and he hesitated a moment, as everyone stared at him in alarm.

“Sir?” said crewman Fenzy.

“—please go and get us all some coffee?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And sandwiches. Call the galley for some sandwiches.”

The tray of food arrived just as Cantha called out, “Legroeder! We’ve reached your friend Harriet—at the Narseil Embassy!”

“Harriet!” Legroeder cried, practically throwing himself onto the com-console. “Can you hear me?”

“Legroeder—is that you? You’re really there, with Impris? My God, I can’t believe it!”

“It’s really me. Have you been following what’s happening?”

“Yes, of course! Good Lord, Legroeder, what sort of a ploy are these Kyber up to?”

“I wish I knew. What’s this about your releasing evidence on North? Is it true, what the Kyber captain said about him?”

“Quite true. We have not been Mr. North’s favorite people lately. Robert McGinnis left a breathtaking record of Kyber meddling, and of North’s complicity. I’m not sure I understand why this Kyber captain is proclaiming it, as if he ought to get credit.”

“I can probably explain that, but it’s—”

“Wait a minute, something new’s coming over the net. From the secretary general…”

“Here it is,” Tiegs interrupted, and put it on the main screen.

A voiceover was saying, “…statement from Secretary General William Albright.”

The bearded world leader was standing at a podium, and speaking with a drawn face. “…to announce that I have relieved Spacing Commissioner North of his duties, without prejudice, pending a full investigation. I am naming Deputy Commissioner Ahmed to the position of Acting Commissioner, and am instructing him to take all proper precautions in dealing with the incoming fleet of ships…”

“Whoa,” said Tiegs, lowering the audio slightly. “This is coming in at the same time.” Two large frames appeared in the main screen, one showing the secretary general, and the other North. The latter appeared to be outside now, standing with an aide next to an aircar. The Spacing Authority headquarters were visible behind him.

North was hemmed in by a crowd of newscasters. “—I’ll not comment on the secretary general’s statement—”

“Commissioner North—”

“No comment.”

“But Commissioner—”

“Whatever I have to say to Mr. Albright, I’ll say to his face.”

“Commissioner North!” a newscaster shouted. “What about the claims of the Kyber captain—”

“Reckless fabrications!” North snapped. “I have ordered our forces to full alert.” North edged toward the car as his aide attempted to force an opening.

The newscasters yielded only reluctantly, with shouts of: “But the Kyber say—” “What about the accusations—?”

“No comment!”

The camera view moved up jerkily, practically into North’s face. A rapid-fire voice asked, “Commissioner, the accusations of the Kyber captain seem consistent with those brought by Attorney Mahoney—”

Something in North’s gaze seemed to snap at the sound of Mahoney’s name. He stabbed an angry finger into the camera lens. “You mean, ex-attorney Mahoney. If you want to investigate something, investigate how a fugitive hiding out in an alien embassy can put out this kind of trash and get away with it. You’re all so bent on crucifying Centrist Strength, which is only trying to make something of this world, when you could be exposing criminals. Well, if I have anything to do with it, we’ll be making an example of Ms. Mahoney, very soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important conference to get to.” He snapped inaudibly at his aide, who was trying to maneuver him into the car. Pressed by reporters, North swung his elbows to make room.

As the reporters fell back, one shouted, “What about Mrs. Mahoney’s standing and reputation—?”

“Commissioner!” shouted another. “Who are you going to confer with? Are you going to see the secretary general?”

The car door slammed and the vehicle came to life with a thunderous whine. As journalists scattered back in alarm, a reporter turned into the camera and said, “That’s Commissioner North’s statement.”

In the other frame, Secretary General Albright was stepping away from his podium, ignoring his own cacophony of shouted questions.

Legroeder leaned over the com. “Did you hear those announcements, Harriet?”

“Yes, I did, and I—just a moment. Legroeder, let me get right back to you. I have so much to ask you.”

Legroeder nodded and stared with balled fists at the still-talking newscasters.

Harriet turned to Peter, who was plugged into the net monitor. His top-heavy head was tilted in thought, a crinkled smile on his face. “What are you thinking, Peter? Is it time to lean on our friend the A.G.?” They now had the McGinnis report, plus the Kyber captain’s accusations, plus new allegations that had come in of armed Centrist Strength ships harbored in Elmira. The release on the worldnet, and investigative journalism in response, had turned up a raft of new information.

“More than time,” Peter said.

Harriet turned back to her console. “All right, we’re cued up to send.” It wasn’t as if the attorney general didn’t have the information already—they’d been passing it to him as it came in—but so far he’d resisted taking action. Not enough evidence, he said. He’d known Harriet for years, and professed the greatest respect for her—but claims from an acknowledged fugitive required extraordinary evidence. Well, if he didn’t call this extraordinary…

She pressed SEND.

After a count of five, she said, “You handle the press release, Peter.” Then she keyed the voice-com. “Attorney General Dulley, please. Harriet Mahoney. I’ll wait… yes… thank you. Frank? Harriet Mahoney. Yes, I have been. Mr. Attorney General, you’ve got a large packet sitting in your in-box, and I strongly recommend that you give it your immediate attention. The citizens are counting on you, Frank…”

Chapter 40 Power Play

Urgent… proceed at once to spaceport hangar… urgent…

Major Talbott had gotten the call on his personal com while en route to a strategy meeting. It wasn’t a secure line, so he had to wait until he got there to hear the rest. He’d changed course at once and made a beeline to the launch control center in the basement of Centrist Strength’s east ramp hangar. On his way to the spaceport, he’d glimpsed a Spacing Authority patrol ship lifting under emergency thrust from the main field. What the hell was that all about? And in the Strength hangar, there was furious activity around one of the pursuit craft. Arming weapons. “What’s going on?” he called, striding into the control center. The sound of his voice hurt his head; too much lace-bourbon last night.

Jerry the tech looked up. “Haven’t you been following the news?”

Of course he’d been following. One disaster after another. What the hell was going on out there in orbit? Carlotta’s people were blowing the whole thing open. Had they decided North was more of a liability than an asset? Were they getting ready to betray Centrist Strength, too?

“I’ve been out of touch for a few minutes. Anything new on North?”

The tech laughed. “You could say so. He headed off for a ‘conference’—only instead of going to see the SecGen, he shook the press and came to the spaceport.”

“And then?” Talbott prompted impatiently. He dropped into a seat and slapped his hand down on the DNA-reader to release the coded message waiting for him. “What did he do?”

“Took off in a police cruiser. No flight plan. They’re halfway to orbit now, and Spacing Authority is going nuts.”

Talbott grunted and hooded himself to the screen. The message flared up; it was from Kyber Command Contact. This was serious indeed; the Kyber liaison would not contact him directly unless drastic action was needed.

“Talbott!” someone shouted from across the room. “Red Knight’s ready to launch. Are you taking command?”

He read quickly, not answering.

“…launch fastest available pursuit craft. Code Blue. Acknowledge at once.”

Talbott drew a deep breath. Code Blue. That was what he’d been preparing for. Command was not deserting them, after all. He turned and shouted, “Get the crew aboard! We launch now!”

Legroeder was blowing on a cup of hot coffee when a shout brought his attention back to the newscast on the main screen.

“—major evidence just filed with Attorney General Dulley by Harriet Mahoney reportedly confirms claims made by the Kyber captain about Spacing Commissioner North. The commissioner’s whereabouts have been unknown since shortly after he was relieved of duties by Secretary General Albright—though reports have come in of a mysterious launch at Elmira Spaceport. North last spoke to the press as he was leaving Spacing Authority headquarters for what he described as a high-level conference. Speculation has been rife about the possible nature of that conference, some believing it to be with the secretary general…”

Legroeder blew a kiss at the console. “Love you, Harriet!”

Captain Friedman, standing behind him, murmured, “Rigger Legroeder, you certainly have brought us back to interesting times.”

Legroeder nodded. “Haven’t I just?”

Some time later, Nav Officer Johnson reported a course change by the Spacing Authority destroyers.

“What are they doing?” Friedman asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Captain,” Tiegs said, “there’s a report of a high-speed ship making orbit from Elmira spaceport. A small one.”

“So?”

“Apparently Commissioner North is aboard. Wait—here it is.” A news loop displayed an image of a small vessel streaking into the sky above the spaceport. It was not assisted by a tow, which meant that it was most likely military or police. A voiceover was now giving it a tentative identification as a Spacing Authority police cruiser commandeered by North.

Good God, Legroeder thought.

“Can we see it?” Friedman demanded, as the main screen switched back to the outside view. Impris was presently at two thousand kilometers, and moving inward. The globe of the planet was much larger now, its horizon a gentle curve across the viewscreen.

“Not yet, sir,” said Johnson. “But it should be coming over the horizon soon. The two destroyers are moving to intercept, I think. Maybe to protect it?”

“Captain, Cantha’s picked up some of the military com-chatter off the net,” Tiegs said. “Someone’s decoded the secure freqs and they’re rebroadcasting it!” Tiegs was chortling as he switched on the audio.

A voice that Legroeder recognized as North’s came through, slightly distorted. “Vigilant, I am en route to an emergency parlay with the intruders. I require you to deploy your ships to ensure my safe passage. This is a top security mission…”

The signal broke up; then another voice replied: “Commissioner North, we have no authorization for your flight. Technically, you are no longer in command. If we can obtain confirmation—”

There was a hiss, as if the commissioner were stepping on their transmission. Then his voice again. “…no time, there is no time. These Kyber are treacherous. If you permit Impris to dock, there may be very serious consequences. Time is of the essence…”

Freem’n Deutsch floated alongside Legroeder. “Is he making this up as he goes? Why’s he trying to keep us from docking?”

Legroeder shook his head helplessly. Was North just scared now, scared and running to Carlotta, and trying to distract everyone in the meantime? Legroeder felt a growing sense of unreality. Too many incomprehensible actions…

“Captain, a call coming in from the Kyber,” said Tiegs. Friedman frowned, as the Kyber captain’s face appeared in a small frame at the corner of the screen.

“Impris, this is Arden of Farhawk. We’ve received an interesting proposal from Commissioner North. He says he can make new arrangements for your ship. If we escort you directly to the Narseil Rigging Institute, we can avoid a great deal of entanglement here. We are contacting the Narseil directly to confirm this arrangement. In the meantime, prepare for a course change…”

Legroeder drew a breath, his blood suddenly cold. If KM/C had a chance to hijack Impris, he didn’t doubt they would take it. Who would there be to stop them, if they left the Faber Eri system? “Captain, no—” he whispered “—don’t do it.”

Friedman was already scowling over the com board. “Get me that Narseil diplomat ship,” he snapped to Tiegs. Cantha stirred uneasily at the com-console, while at the back of the bridge, Fre’geel was looking increasingly alert. “Narseil courier,” Friedman barked. “Have you received any messages from Commissioner North or the Kyber ship? Please respond.”

Fre’geel was moving forward, toward Captain Friedman.

There was a long delay. Then a reply from the Narseil ship: “This is Narseil Diplomat Vessel Essling. We have received messages from both parties. Although the Narseil government has no wish to be a party to hostilities in any form, we do guarantee shelter and asylum, if you choose to bring your vessel to our Rigging Institute.”

Captain Friedman cleared his throat. “Are you saying that you intend to cooperate with North and the Kyber ship?”

“We will cooperate with whatever action provides your ship the greatest protection and security.”

Cleverly put, Legroeder thought. Especially since the Faber Eri authorities had hardly been welcoming. He felt his throat tighten. Were the Narseil about to have a change of heart here, to get Impris sooner? Legroeder glanced at Fre’geel, whose neck-sail was quivering. The Narseil commander seemed ready for the possibility; he was avoiding Legroeder’s gaze. Legroeder frowned and edged toward Freem’n Deutsch. Freem’n met his eyes with a steady, glowing gaze.

“What’s that?” asked Friedman, pointing. “Is that North’s ship, coming over the horizon?” On the screen, a point of light was moving just above the delicate boundary line between the planet’s atmosphere and the black of space.

“That’s him,” said Johnson. “He’s not the only one, though. There’s another ship following him up. I wonder who that is.”

Tiegs interjected, “A second ship took off from Elmira, shortly after North. Unauthorized and identified as belonging to something called Centrist Strength. What the hell does that mean? Are they pursuing him?”

In the left-hand frame of the screen was a magnified view of the two Spacing Authority warships that earlier had been threatening Impris. Their space inductors blazed as they accelerated on an intercept course. Were they moving to help the commissioner’s ship or hinder it? This, Legroeder thought, could very quickly get out of control.

Cantha switched an audio channel, and appeared to be picking up an eavesdropped, rebroadcast military frequency.

“—is Commissioner North the only one aboard the launch?”

“—negative—pilot, and traveling with one aide—Berkhauer—”

“Do we have any confirmation from HQ?”

“Negative. He may be acting on his own.”

There was a sound of muttered imprecations. Then: “All right. We’d better give him some protection. But let’s see if we can slow up his rendezvous a little, until we get word from command.”

“Aye, aye.”

“Whoops,” said Johnson, and Legroeder looked up as four ships of the Kyber fleet abruptly shot out ahead of the formation, streaking inward as though to join the impending fray. Was everybody trying to get to North first? Was Farhawk really hoping to make a deal with him?

“Here’s a different thread,” said Cantha.

A scratchy hiss, then: “I must meet with them alone, Vigilant. Repeat, there may be jeopardy to Impris if I cannot conclude this parlay successfully. Please keep your ships at a distance to avoid inflaming the situation…”

Hiss.

“Commissioner North—this is Captain Sanspach of Vigilant. We have no verification of your authority for this mission. Please stabilize your orbit until we receive confirmation.”

The commissioner’s voice was edged with desperation. “You don’t understand. There may be an attack from other Kyber forces if I don’t meet with this fleet. Break off your approach and let me proceed.”

Sanspach sounded skeptical. “Commissioner, can you identify the ship following you? We have information that it is registered to Centrist Strength.”

“Do not—repeat, do NOT—allow that ship to approach! I am uncertain of its purpose!”

“But Commissioner—” Sanspach paused, then muttered, “Damn—!” before cutting his transmission.

For two long minutes, there was near-silence on the bridge of Impris as everyone watched the movements of the ships. The Kyber ships were hurtling toward a possible rendezvous, but the two Spacing Authority destroyers were closer. And the Centrist Strength ship was closer still, and gaining…

A new transmission came in on a tight beam from the Kyber commander. “This is Kyber Farhawk. Impris, you are to lay in the following course and prepare to boost out of orbit as soon as negotiations are complete.” A series of instructions followed.

“No!” Legroeder shouted.

Friedman looked defeated. “They have the weapons, Rigger. I can’t refuse, if they order us.”

“No, you must not resist,” Commander Fre’geel said in a soft hiss.

Legroeder hesitated. The Narseil were desperately eager to get Impris—and him—to their institute. Would they be willing to abduct him and the passengers and crew of Impris to do it? They owed no allegiance to Faber Eridani. But how about him? Did they owe it to him? He glanced at Cantha and saw a torn expression. Shit. If only he had a weapon.

To do what with?

Deutsch floated closer, almost protectively. Legroeder blinked. He leaned into Deutsch and whispered into his friend’s ear. A moment later, Deutsch’s telescoping arm shot out with blinding speed and put something in Legroeder’s hand. He gripped it before his eyes had a chance to focus on it.

A tiny neutraser pistol, a one-shot. Legroeder snapped it up into view, for all to see. “Listen to me, people—”

Fre’geel’s eyes narrowed.

“Rigger Legroeder, what are you doing?” Friedman protested. “Raising a weapon against friends?”

“No,” Legroeder said, and drew a sharp breath. He raised the gun and placed its muzzle to his own head. To the slight bump of the implant in his temple. “Not against friends.”

Fre’geel let out a low hiss.

“All right? Back me up, Freem’n.” Keeping the gun to his head, Legroeder stepped forward so that all on the bridge could see him, and to let the captain of the Kyber ship see him on the monitor. “You all get it? This ship does not leave Faber Eri orbit. If it does, it goes without the information you all want so badly. Captain Arden, I suggest you back off and forget that little change of plans of yours. And Fre’geel?” He faced the Narseil commander. “Do you wish to say something to the good Captain Arden?”

He had never seen a Narseil’s eyes shrink so narrow.

Talbott’s face held a grim expression as Red Knight streaked into space, but his heart was racing. Somehow he had known that it would fall to him, in the end, to stop the former Spacing Commissioner. At last he was doing something instead of waiting, always waiting—this was why he had joined Centrist Strength—to act, and to make a difference.

They would make a difference, all right. The three of them—Talbott, his pilot Hanson, his weapons officer Manny. They would make clear that you do not kick sand in the eyes of Centrist Strength. And they would do it not just on behalf of Strength, but of all the people of this world who believed in the destiny, in the future.

One of their own leaders had fallen away, and it was the task of Red Knight to bring him in. To stop a disaster from happening. Ottoson North, fleeing like a jackrabbit when the going got tough, and risking the security of all they had worked for.

The planetary horizon had spread out in a round arc beneath them, glowing against the eternal black of space. “How long to weapons lock?”

Manny replied, “Long shot, in about four minutes. Tighter shot, and more options, about seven. Major, I’m picking up a couple of destroyers moving toward intercept. Must be Vigilant and Forte.”

“Message coming in from them now,” Talbott muttered, adjusting the com.

“Vigilant to unidentified Centrist Strength vessel. Discontinue your pursuit at once. Repeat—call off your pursuit. We warn you not to interfere with Spacing Authority business.”

Talbott didn’t answer, but snorted as he punched up a secure transmission to Command. Text only—not as classy as what the Authority used, maybe, but more secure. He sent: Range in four to seven minutes. Have received a warning from Authority destroyers. Estimate they will be a factor in six minutes. Awaiting final instructions.

As he waited for a response, he watched Faber Eridani turn beautifully beneath them. They were still in high acceleration, their space inductors pulling them around the planet in a guided path at about twice standard orbital velocity. If their power shut down, they’d fly off into space like a stone from a sling.

“What’s the word, Major?” Hanson asked, eyes glued to the controls.

“Coming now.” Talbott held his breath as their orders scrolled across.

Code Blue confirmed. Take your prey, and good hunting.

Talbott’s voice caught. He’d trained for this for years, but he’d never actually been in ship-to-ship combat. It was time to prove his mettle. Those two Authority destroyers weren’t going to play games. Should he say something to his crew?

He drew a breath. Sacrifice is the name of the game, he whispered silently. No guts, no glory. He glanced left, right. His voice was gravel. “You know what we’re here for. They’re going to try to stop us. Let’s get the job done.”

For a long moment, no one on the Impris bridge spoke, or even seemed to breathe. Then Fre’geel, stiffly, moved toward the screen. “Captain of the Kyber. I must inform you that the Narseil Navy—” he hesitated, just a heartbeat “—stands in support of our colleague Rigger Legroeder. We cannot cooperate with the coerced removal of Impris from her home system.” He looked back at Legroeder, his eyes drawn with tension.

The Kyber captain spoke forcefully. “You must cooperate… and you will…”

“And what?” answered Fre’geel. “Bring back a dead man, with dead implants? Will that advance your cause?”

The first hint of uncertainty entered the Kyber commander’s voice. “You may regret not taking this opportunity.”

“I’ll regret it more,” Fre’geel said flatly, “if Rigger Legroeder pulls that trigger.”

Legroeder strained to keep his hand from shaking. “Captain Friedman,” he murmured to the horrified Impris skipper, “I’m sorry to have to do it this way. But if you went with the KM/C fleet… I’m not sure you would ever reach the Narseil Institute. These are pirates, the same ones who tried to destroy you and us, once before.”

“Skipper,” Tiegs said urgently, “there’s an awful lot of coded com activity among the Kyber ships. I can’t read any of it, but there’s some heavy-duty discussion going on.”

Friedman squinted, and suddenly pointed to the center of the screen. “What’s that?” Seven ships were converging on North’s launch from above, in front, and behind. The pursuing ship was closest, and gaining rapidly.

“North’s ship has increased power,” Johnson said. “He’s trying to get away from the Centrist Strength ship and join up with—oh my God, what are they doing?”

There were several flickers of light on the screens.

“What’s happening?” Friedman snapped.

Johnson worked frantically at the controls. The image on the screen shifted left and right, then snapped to a higher magnification. “It’s weapons fire! Centrist Strength has fired a missile at North! Now one of the destroyers is firing at the Centrist—”

Blast of static, then North’s voice: “Stop! What are you—?”

North’s words were cut off as a burst of white light ballooned out like a small sun on the near side of the planetary horizon. It was followed by a second, more distant sunburst.

Legroeder, stunned, had to struggle to keep the neutraser to his head. Cold, hard metal against his temple.

“Mother of—”

“Johnson, was that what I think it was?”

“Yeah, Captain. It was North’s launch. They blew him. The Centrist Strength ship blew him.” The nav officer looked up, dazed. “He’s smoke, Captain. And so is the Centrist.”

Friedman whispered, “This Centrist Strength blew him to keep him from going to the Kyber?”

The com crackled. “Terrible, terrible,” said the Kyber captain, on a public channel. “This violence was totally unnecessary. We came here in the hope of preventing such tragedies.”

“No,” Legroeder said, with sudden understanding. “The Centrist Strength ship was Kyber—they were all KM/C agents.”

“KM/C wanted North dead, so he wouldn’t talk,” said Deutsch. “They were just baiting him to get him up here. Right, Legroeder? And then they let Spacing Authority take care of his killers, so they wouldn’t talk. They sacrificed their own agents to conceal the extent of their complicity. They’re determined to look clean.” Deutsch turned slowly to Legroeder. “My friend, I think you can lower that gun now. I don’t think they’ll take you by force.”

No one on the bridge spoke, as Legroeder stood nearly motionless, slowly shifting his eyes to Fre’geel. “Commander,” he said softly. “Do I have your word on what you just told the Kyber captain?”

Fre’geel was breathing raspily. But a hint of what could almost have been a human smile fluttered at his mouth. “You have my word,” he said huskily. “And my… apology.” He inclined his head forward.

Legroeder sighed and lowered the weapon.

“Thank you,” the captain said.

Legroeder nodded, gazing down at the gun, turning it slowly in his hand. Lifeless metal. But one squeeze of the trigger… He handed it back to Deutsch. It disappeared into Deutsch’s metal side.

“I trust you’ll turn that weapon in later,” Captain Friedman murmured, staring at the image in the screen, where the explosion and the debris had faded from visibility. The Kyber detachment had broken off its run and was now returning to the main Kyber fleet. Legroeder suddenly felt utterly drained. He wondered whose move it was now.

Tiegs spoke. “Vigilant is warning Farhawk not to interfere with orbital operations, and Farhawk is warning everyone not to interfere with Impris.”

Captain Friedman pursed his lips. “Hell of a thing—bastards like that being our protection. But better them, I guess, than no one.”

To which Legroeder whispered a silent amen.

They were approaching their parking orbit when the message arrived from El’ken, addressed to Secretary General Albright via an open broadcast on the net. The statement made no mention of the clandestine near-hijacking of Impris by the Kyber ships. But it hailed the return of Impris as vindication of the Narseil’s century-old claim dating back to the War of a Thousand Suns. El’ken urgently requested safe passage for the ship and full participation by the Narseil Rigging Institute in the investigation of her disappearance. “We also applaud critical contributions made by Rigger Legroeder in the rescue of Impris—and call for guarantees of his safety and freedom, as well…”

Fre’geel’s bright, vertical eyes gazed at Legroeder as El’ken spoke. Will you let it go at that? he seemed to be asking. Legroeder gave a slight nod.

The answer from the secretary general came a few minutes later. “We respect and appreciate the Narseil interest in this matter. Rest assured that your recommendations will receive the highest level of attention. In the meantime, we guarantee free passage for Impris, and welcome her home after a long absence. We are dispatching a tow, with escort, and clearing Impris for immediate docking at Outer Terminus Three. As for the Kyber fleet in our skies, we thank you for such helpful role as you may have played in her safe return. Now, it is time for you to leave.”

Tiegs fussed at the com-console for a few minutes. “Lots of coded message traffic again. The Kyber are talking up a storm among themselves. I think they’re talking to someone outside the Faber Eri system.”

Though it seemed forever, it was only a few minutes before the Kyber ship responded, “Our conditions have been met. Since we have no further business at this time, we will be on our way. But you can count on us to stay in touch about the progress of the Impris investigation.”

“They’re pulling away,” Johnson murmured.

Everyone stared at the main screen. The rings and outriggers on the KM/C ships were starting to glow, as they powered up their Circadie space inductors. Legroeder’s heart was pounding as he watched the Kyber ships break from formation around Impris. They began to accelerate outward from the planet, their space inductors blazing sapphire. He felt it coming before he saw it: the ships vanishing into the Flux—once again, recklessly close to the planet, shaking Impris with the gravitational turbulence. The KM/C riggers were good at that, he had to admit. But he wished to hell they’d cut it out.

Now they were gone, all of the Kyber ships.

He blinked and looked again.

All of them except one.

Chapter 41 Reunion

The remaining Kyber warship glided into formation alongside Impris. “What the hell?” Captain Friedman muttered. “Is that Phoenix?”

Legroeder’s heart did a couple of flips. Phoenix had not been part of the original escort. But confirmation came a few moments later. “Impris, this is Ivan ship Phoenix. Please stand by while we contact local authorities.”

Legroeder laughed joyfully at the sound of the voice.

“Faber Eridani Defense Command, this is Yankee-Zulu/Ivan ship Phoenix, Tracy-Ace/Alfa speaking for Kyber Outpost Ivan. We are here to provide continuing escort for Impris, and to seek diplomatic contact on behalf of Yankee-Zulu/Ivan. We are not, repeat not, connected with the Kilo-Mike/Carlotta fleet, just departed. Our mission is entirely peaceful, and—”

A burst of static interrupted the transmission.

“Pirate ship Phoenix, this is Captain Sanspach, of Vigilant.” He sounded exasperated. “You are instructed to turn your ship around and depart this system at once. We have no need of further Kyber interference.”

Legroeder hurried to speak to Cantha. “Can you get Harriet back on the line for me?”

While Cantha was working, Friedman snapped his fingers at Tiegs. “Transmit on that frequency.” When Tiegs nodded, the captain raised his voice, “Vigilant, this is Captain Friedman of Impris. Be advised that we owe this Ivan ship our lives. She and her crew brought us back from a living death in the Flux. In addition, they saved us from destruction at the hands of a hostile fleet.”

“Impris, Vigilant. Are you saying you want this ship to come in with you?”

“That’s affirmative.”

Pause. “Impris, please stand by…”

While they were standing by, Legroeder got a nod from Cantha. He stepped to the com. “Harriet? Are you there?”

“Here, Legroeder. What’s this new ship?”

“Friends, Harriet. We’ve got to make Spacing Authority understand that. It’s the ship that took us to rescue Impris. And Harriet… we’ve got a raider organization here that wants to make peace.”

“Make peace? You’re certain of that?”

“I’m certain, Harriet. I know what you’re thinking. But these are not the people who took Bobby. You’ve got to trust me on this.”

If Harriet hadn’t been thinking of Bobby before, the reminder seemed to give her even greater pause. “What are you telling me, Legroeder? Did you find out anything about—?”

“Some leads, yes. And these people from Ivan are working on it for me. I’ll explain later.”

Harriet seemed to accept that with difficulty. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

Legroeder turned to Friedman. “Maybe she can persuade them, if they don’t believe you.”

Friedman looked ready to believe anything, and nothing.

Apparently the authorities were persuaded, either by Friedman’s claim or by Harriet’s intervention, or both, because eventually a directive came down from the secretary general to the Spacing Authority, and both ships were granted clearance to enter orbit near the docking terminal. Phoenix settled into a parking orbit under the watchful eyes of a small squadron, while Impris, aided by a tow, was brought into an arrival dock.

There was growing excitement aboard Impris as they awaited permission to debark. They were told that arrangements were being made for lodging, medical exams, and preparation for transport to the surface. After endless delays, a decontamination tunnel was put in place. When at last the passengers and most of the crew were given permission to go “ashore,” the ship’s corridors resounded with cheers. The exodus began at once—though Fre’geel ordered his Narseil crew to remain on board until the Narseil diplomats arrived, from the Essling and from the embassy on Faber Eri.

Legroeder and Deutsch went out through the checkpoint and stood in the receiving area with a knot of officials, watching as the Impris passengers crowded off the ship. It was a lot like the debarkation at Outpost Ivan; many of the passengers looked dazed. And yet, it was different: this world was home for them, or at least their point of departure a century and a quarter ago. Legroeder suspected that for many of them, the stopover at Ivan had been more like a dream than a return to civilization as they had known it. He wondered if they’d recognize the society they were about to encounter here.

He had little time to think about it, before one of the station security agents approached. “Rigger Legroeder, you’re wanted in the station administrator’s office. Follow me, please.” The agent looked at Deutsch. “Are you here as an official representative of the Kyber?”

Deutsch hummed thoughtfully. “In the absence of Tracy-Ace/Alfa, I could be considered official, I suppose.”

“He should come along,” Legroeder said.

The agent still looked unsure, but waved them on together.

They were ushered into a room with more Faber Eridani officials than he could keep track of. Events began to blur from that point on. The most senior government officials had not yet arrived, but those who were there wanted to hear the entire story. Legroeder gave the brief version, knowing he was going to be telling it many times over. No one seemed to know quite what to do with Deutsch, and he sat silent most of the time, only occasionally answering a direct question or offering a small elaboration.

After what seemed hours, Legroeder was drawn aside and informed he had a visitor. For a moment, he fantasized that it might be Tracy-Ace, but that seemed unlikely; her ship wasn’t even in dock. Curiosity overcoming weariness, he followed the aide out to the anteroom.

“There you are!” said a grey-haired lady.

“Harriet!” he cried, and ran past the startled aide to embrace Harriet in a bear hug.

“Don’t crush me, dear!” she pleaded, laughing.

Legroeder held her at arm’s length. “How did you get here so fast?”

Harriet’s eyes twinkled as she readjusted her glasses. “I grabbed the first Narseil shuttle up. I’m still technically under their wing. What, did you think you don’t need a lawyer anymore?”

Legroeder practically danced her around the room. “How could I doubt? Harriet, what’s been happening here? Tell me everything! How are you—and how is Morgan? And did you find Maris?”

“Stop. Stop, before I get dizzy!” she laughed. “Yes, Morgan and Maris will be very happy to see you.”

“You found her!”

“About a week ago. Alive and well.”

Legroeder closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh of gratitude.

“I knew you’d be glad to hear that. But now, Legroeder—” Harriet put a hand on his arm “—before you say anything else—tell me what you found about Bobby.”

Legroeder felt his throat tighten. Harriet saw his hesitation, and her face fell at once. He put a hand on hers. “We haven’t found him yet, but we found his trail. He was taken alive from the L.A., and later transferred from DeNoble to another outpost. When I left Ivan, they were still trying to track him down.” He squeezed her hand. “There’s hope, Harriet. Don’t give up.”

Harriet drew a deep breath. “All right. I can hold out a little longer, I guess.” She forced a smile. “My word, but it’s good to see you in one piece.” She glanced toward the door where the aide was waiting for Legroeder to return to the debriefing. “How are they treating you in there?”

Legroeder shrugged. “They haven’t hung me out to dry yet.”

“We’ll do much better for you than that, dear. Your lawyer’s with you now…”

Whether or not it mattered to anyone else that his lawyer was with him, it certainly made him feel better. By the time they broke for dinner, it was apparent that he could look forward to a lot more of the same. It would start all over again tomorrow, once the people with real power had arrived. At that point, they’d bring in Captain Friedman and the Narseil, as well. Legroeder was grateful for a chance to get away for dinner with Harriet, in the station administrator’s dining room. “I feel so out of touch with what’s been happening here,” he said, wrapping his fingers around a glistening stein of beer.

Harriet laughed. “You feel out of touch! Which one of us went flying off to be captured by space pirates, was gone for ten weeks without a word, and then came back standing at the wheel of the legendary Flying Dutchman of the stars?” She peered over the tops of her glasses. “I was afraid I’d never see you again. And I never dreamed you’d fly the bloody ship back to us!”

“Well, I was a little surprised myself,” Legroeder admitted. He glanced out through the doorway of the dining room. “Freem’n! Come on in here! Harriet, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” The cyborg floated in through the doorway and greeted Harriet with an amplified rumble and an outstretched metal hand. “I don’t think you were ever properly introduced back there.”

“No,” said Harriet, rising. “I know you were together on the rescue mission—”

“A major understatement. Freem’n’s—” Legroeder hesitated. “Well, besides being a friend, he’s an outstanding rigger. And a goodwill representative…” The rest of the words caught in his throat. Of Ivan. Of the Kyber pirates.

Harriet stiffened, as she shook Deutsch’s hand. It didn’t take a mind-reader to guess what she was thinking.

Legroeder hastened to add, “He started out as a captive, impressed into service just like me, Harriet. And I couldn’t have done any of this without him.”

Harriet relaxed a little. “So,” she murmured to Deutsch, “what is your role here at Faber Eridani?”

Deutsch’s eyes were no doubt unreadable to Harriet, but Legroeder could have sworn he saw them twinkle as he answered, “I’m here to see if I can mend some fences. And—” he chuckled softly “—to see that nothing bad happens to Legroeder and all that information he’s carrying in his head.”

Harriet cocked her head in puzzlement.

“I still have to explain about that,” Legroeder said. “It’s sort of complicated.”

Harriet nodded. “Then I guess this is where I should say, any friend of Legroeder’s—” She opened her palm.

“Just what I was thinking,” Deutsch said. “In any case, I’m hoping to provide you with some information about the Kyber worlds, while I’m here.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

“And I could probably use a good lawyer, if you happen to know of one.”

“Actually,” Legroeder said thoughtfully, “there are a lot of people coming in here who are going to need help. Of all kinds. Being in limbo for a century hasn’t left all of them in such good shape. Can you use some more pro bono work, Harriet?”

His lawyer raised her eyebrows. “It may be time for me to impose upon the goodwill of some of my colleagues…”

After dinner, Harriet excused herself to make a couple of calls. When she returned, said, “You know, the press is on the verge of breaking down the doors to see you, and I’m going to let them, if our hosts here will allow it. But there are a couple of people I want you to see first, okay?”

Legroeder shrugged. “Okay.”

“Follow me.” Harriet led him out of the dining room, down a short hallway past several guards, and into an anteroom. Morgan Mahoney whirled at his approach and with a cry of joy ran toward him with open arms. Hugging Morgan, Legroeder saw the second woman, waiting with her.

“Maris?” he gasped, releasing Morgan and reaching out to catch Maris’s hand. He held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you alive again! I thought you were gone. I really did.” She grinned back at him, and finally he drew her into a long bear hug.

Maris looked healthier than she ever had as a prisoner; there was a flush to her cheeks and a light in her eyes that almost made up for the scar on the side of her neck. The change was remarkable. She’d had her auburn hair styled, probably for the first time in years. Looking at her now, it felt like an eternity since they’d fled DeNoble together; and it felt like yesterday.

The grin on Maris’s face turned to sober amazement. “I didn’t know if you’d be alive, Legroeder. When your friends rescued me, I couldn’t believe what they’d done to you at the RiggerGuild. And then to hear you’d gone back to a pirate camp. My God, Legroeder!” She shook her head and squeezed his hands.

“Well, I knew you’d be back,” Morgan interjected. “Pirates or no pirates. No man can stay away from me forever.”

Legroeder laughed. “Thanks, Morgan. But where did you find her? Where were you, Maris?”

“Held by pirates,” Morgan said darkly.

“KM/C agents? Kilo-Mike/Carlotta?”

Maris glanced at Morgan and shrugged. “I never heard that name. They kept talking about Ivan—Yankee, someone?”

“Yankee Zulu Ivan is what you said before,” said Morgan. “Have you heard of them, Legroeder?”

He felt a sudden rushing in his ears. He closed his eyes. Yankee-Zulu/Ivan? For a moment he stood there, trying to will the thought away. Not Ivan. Please. He tried to answer, but couldn’t find his voice.

Morgan’s words finally cut through the fog in his head. “Does that mean yes or no? Hey, who’s your friend here?”

Legroeder grunted and blinked his eyes open. Deutsch was floating beside him, augments flickering. Before Legroeder could answer, Deutsch said, “Legroeder, you seem to gather women around you everywhere you go, don’t you?”

Legroeder winced. “Maris and Morgan, my friend Freem’n Deutsch.” Break this to them slowly… “I think maybe I’d better tell you from the beginning what’s happened since I left El’ken’s asteroid…”

“Wait a minute—wait a minute!” Morgan was waving a hand in the air. He’d just gotten to the part about YZ/I’s sending him to search for Impris—leaving out a few details, such as his relationship with Tracy-Ace/Alfa. “These people who helped you find Impris—what did you say they were called—YZ/I? You don’t mean—” the color drained from her face “—you don’t mean Yankee… Zulu…”

Legroeder nodded, feeling his own face flush.

“What?” Maris whispered.

“Wait—let me explain—”

“Explain what?” snapped Morgan. “Why they kidnapped Maris? Do I have that right? Yankee Zulu Ivan are the creeps who kidnapped you, right, Maris?”

Maris’s mouth was open in hurt bewilderment. “Yes,” she said, without looking back at Morgan. “That’s what they said. Yankee Zulu—Ivan, right. What’s this all about, Legroeder? Are these the people you’ve been making friends with?” She turned and stared penetratingly at Deutsch.

Legroeder face was afire. “YZ/I is Yankee-Zulu/Ivan, yeah. And I don’t know what they were doing with you, Maris. But I intend to find out. Very soon.”

“Legroeder,” Morgan said. “We’re talking kidnappers, here. Pirates.”

He swallowed, his blood turning to ice. Fire and ice. “Yes. Apparently so,” he whispered. He cleared his throat with difficulty. “And… they’re the ones I’m going to be asking you—and Faber Eridani—to work with.” Tracy-Ace, what have you people done? Why? He felt a drum thumping in the center of his forehead.

“Murdering thugs,” Morgan said.

Legroeder struggled. “Some of them—yes, they are. But not all. There’s a confederation of Kyber outposts out there—and—” He cut off his own words. Dear God, better not mention just yet that they’re getting ready to expand into the galaxy…

“And what?”

“And—” his eye caught Harriet’s incredulous look, and that made it even harder “—and we’ve got a boss who wants to talk to us, wants to stop the hostilities.”

“And we’re supposed to believe them?” Morgan asked disdainfully.

He drew a breath. “We have to at least listen to them. I can’t vouch for the other outposts. But these people from Ivan… they helped us find Impris, and got us back safely to Faber Eri. They escorted us. As a gesture of good faith.”

Deutsch, beside him, murmured a metallic affirmation.

“They sent Freem’n here as an envoy to share information. And—” Legroeder gasped dizzily, hoping all these promises would be kept “—there’s a shipload of repatriated prisoners on their way back here right now. Right behind us.”

“What are you talking about, Legroeder?” Maris said, holding her head as if it hurt just trying to take in his words. “Repatriated prisoners? Are you serious?”

“I am. Look, I know this is all very confusing. Maris, I don’t know the explanation for what happened to you. But I know someone who does, or can find out. I’m just asking you right now to keep an open mind. When you hear the rest of the story… Do we have time, Harriet?”

“We’ll make time. I’ll have them send in some coffee.”

“Good. Then let me finish telling you what happened…”

Even recounting the events of the Impris rescue in brief, he found his emotions stirring at the memories. “The passage through the flaw was the most astounding experience of my life,” he said in a near whisper, as the rush of dizziness that he’d felt in the retelling slowly subsided. He’d allowed himself to relive the feelings far more intensely in the presence of his friends than he had before. At least for those few minutes, he’d forgotten his other problems.

Morgan and Maris were dumbstruck. Harriet, who had heard the gist of the story before, was the first to stir. “It’s an amazing story. Simply amazing. And I think now you need to tell it again—this time to the ladies and gentlemen of the press.”

Legroeder groaned.

Harriet was not to be put off, however. As she took his arm and propelled him toward a conference room where he could hear the sounds of a crowd, she said, “You might hate this, but if you want to clear the air about everything that’s happened, and you want the Spacing Authority and RiggerGuild off your back, you’ve got to get it all out in public.”

“What do you want me to do?” he mumbled.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Just tell it the way you did to us. You’ll knock ’em dead.”

The press conference was every bit as chaotic as he’d expected; but through the chaos, he managed somehow to give a coherent summary of his adventure, and convey it as a triumph not only for himself, but for Impris and Faber Eridani as well. His lawyer deftly deflected all but a very few questions, and got him out of the room as quickly as she’d gotten him in. They left the reporters with ample fodder for many days of sensational stories, and the promise of more details to come.

“Superbly done,” Harriet said, as they rejoined his friends in the guest suite he’d been assigned on the station. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow. So I think we’d better all clear out of here and let you get some sleep.”

Legroeder didn’t argue. After everyone left, he threw himself down onto the bed. For a time he felt as if he wouldn’t sleep a wink, but instead would spend the entire night with one thought racing against the next, and most of all remembering the shock in the eyes of his friends as he’d revealed the name of YZ/I.

When he rolled out of bed in the morning, he realized he had, in fact, slept like the dead. Even after rejoining his friends for breakfast, he was still groggy. He drank his coffee in near-silence, trying to reconstitute himself before the start of the formal hearings.

The Special Envoy to the Secretary General, one Martha Clark, had arrived during the night, as had a number of Narseil diplomats. They were all eager not just to hear the details of the mission but to put a shape on it in anticipation of drawing conclusions. The arrival of Impris was not a problem for them; the arrival of the Kyber was another matter. Legroeder was joined by Captain Friedman and by his Narseil shipmates, and he was grateful for the company and the support.

It was astounding how long it could take to tell even the most basic points of a story when one was interrupted and questioned at every turn, and when there were no fewer than three human and four Narseil viewpoints to be told.

The first day of hearings stretched into three, and by then Legroeder was ready for just about anything except another day of questions. Every time he spoke with Harriet, Morgan, or Maris, he imagined the suspicion and betrayal he’d seen in their eyes that first night.

For their part, they seemed at least to be trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Morgan seemed the angriest and most inclined to think he was an idiot for believing anything the Kyber told him. Harriet, perhaps hiding at times behind her professional facade, seemed to be working hardest at trying to maintain an open mind. Maris was still just trying to make sense of the whole thing.

Legroeder was beginning to wonder if he would ever hear from Tracy-Ace/Alfa, who as far as he knew was still in a parking orbit somewhere well out of sight of the station. As the hearings neared their completion on the fourth day, he was stunned to hear her voice coming through the door of the meeting room. Tracy-Ace herself appeared a few moments later, flanked by Captain Glenswarg. They were followed closely by armed Spacing Authority guards.

“Ah,” said Envoy Clark, “our guests from the Kyber vessel have arrived.”

“Thank you for permitting us to address you,” Tracy-Ace said with a bow. “It’s a pleasure to be here representing the Kyber outpost of Yankee-Zulu/Ivan.” She was dressed much as she had been the first time Legroeder met her—spectacular in black and gold. She seemed, if anything, to be taller than before; probably it was his imagination. Her eyes searched the room until she found Legroeder. A smile creased her face.

Legroeder started to rise, then caught himself and made do with a blush and a grin. He was aware of Harriet, beside him, and he cleared his throat.

“Friend of yours?” Harriet murmured. “Very pretty…”

Legroeder nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I see…”

Which was exactly what he was afraid of. He had gone, after all, to gather intelligence against the pirates, not to make love to them. But if Harriet was interpreting his discomfort accurately, she said nothing more.

At the front of the room, Tracy-Ace addressed the panel of officials. “A shipload of repatriates is en route, and should be here in a few days,” she said, causing an immediate stir. “We’ll have names and other information for you at that time.”

“Miss Alfa,” said Special Envoy Clark in surprise, “are you saying—”

“That we are serious about establishing meaningful relations with your world? Yes, we are…”

It was another hour before the session was called for the day and Legroeder got a chance to speak with her. He hurried to the front of the room as people dispersed, feeling a flash of worry that this would be like their arrival back at Ivan, all business. Which perhaps would have been for the better; but never mind that…

Tracy-Ace embraced him, hard. “Am I glad to see you, babe!” she murmured, kissing him on the cheek, then pulling back to gaze at him. “We were worried, back when you first arrived, that things weren’t going too well.”

Legroeder gazed back at her in wonderment. “Were you there the whole time?”

One corner of her mouth curled in a grin. “What do you think? Now, if they’ll let me go with you, do you think you’re ready to take me to meet your friends?”

It took some intervention on Harriet’s part to get that much freedom of movement for Tracy-Ace; and even then, guards were never far away. The officers of Phoenix and Impris joined Legroeder, Harriet, and Deutsch in the dining room, and that was where Tracy-Ace and Harriet first had an opportunity to talk. Tracy-Ace was frowning, the corners of her eyes flickering. Finally she stabbed the air with her finger. “Harriet Mahoney—Bobby Mahoney! I almost forgot to tell you, Legroeder—I got news from YZ/I on the way in. They found him! They found Bobby. One of Carlotta’s outposts has him, and YZ/I is negotiating for his release.” She turned to Harriet. “Bobby is your grandson, yes?”

Harriet looked faint, her eyes wide with shock and joy. “Yes,” she whispered. “Is it true? He’s really alive?”

Tracy-Ace’s face was alight. “He really is.”

Harriet leaned across the table. “Will he be freed?”

Tracy-Ace breathed out slowly. “He’s not in our hands yet, so I can’t promise. But I believe there’s a good chance. YZ/I can strike a pretty hard bargain.” She glanced around the table with a grin. “And if YZ/I can’t do it, maybe we could send in the Narseil.”

Legroeder winced a little at the joke, but was filled with gratitude on Harriet’s behalf. Harriet was weeping openly now, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Legroeder took her hand, and she squeezed back fiercely. Then, to Legroeder’s surprise, Harriet reached across the table and squeezed Tracy-Ace’s hand, too. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I just can’t tell you…”

Introducing Tracy-Ace to Morgan and Maris was a different matter. After dinner, Tracy-Ace was permitted to come to his suite along with other visitors, and she was there when Maris and Morgan arrived. In fact, she was standing with her hand on Legroeder’s shoulder as the two women walked in.

Legroeder blushed as he saw Morgan stiffen. “Hi,” he said, managing not to stammer. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet my friend, Tracy-Ace/Alfa.” He turned, as Tracy-Ace’s hand dropped from his shoulder, and awkwardly completed the introductions. He glanced at Harriet, but she merely raised her eyebrows slightly.

Tracy-Ace stepped forward to meet the other two. “I’m pleased to meet you both at last,” she said. “Legroeder has been very eager to get back here to rejoin you. He’s told me a lot about you all.” Legroeder pressed his lips together and said nothing.

“I’m sure he has,” Morgan said brusquely. “Pleased to meet you. Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, dear,” Harriet said, and appeared to decide to help Legroeder out a bit, after all. “Legroeder’s friend Miss Alfa—”

“Please. Tracy-Ace.”

“Tracy-Ace, sorry. Tracy-Ace has brought some wonderful news. They’ve found Bobby, and there’s a good chance he’ll be freed.” Harriet waved to a small sofa and a side table. “Please sit. Get yourself a glass of wine.”

Morgan blinked, and seemed to be struggling to recompute.

“That’s right,” Tracy-Ace said, taking a seat in a chair, while Legroeder joined Harriet on the other sofa. “Bobby’s not at our outpost, but we’re hopeful.” She explained what she had told Harriet.

“That’s… terrific,” Morgan said, her eyes implying that it would have been even more terrific if Bobby had never been captured in the first place.

“Bobby is what—your nephew?” Tracy-Ace asked.

Morgan bobbed her head. “And I’m extremely grateful—really—for the news.”

Tracy-Ace took a sip of wine. “But you’re not so sure about me, I take it.”

“Well, it’s not—”

“I think,” said Maris, speaking for the first time, “that we’re both wondering… well… are you here with Legroeder in a purely official capacity, or…”

“We’re friends,” Tracy-Ace said quickly.

“Good friends,” Legroeder echoed, in a voice that seemed exceedingly hollow.

“Ah-hah,” Maris said, nodding.

Morgan also nodded, more slowly. “Then we should—” Regard you as a friend? Claw your eyes out? What? her eyes seemed to say.

Legroeder cleared his throat. “You should treat her as a friend of mine,” he said softly. “As someone I trust, and someone who has helped me tremendously. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be back here now.” He could feel the flush in his face as he said it—annoyance, defensiveness, guilt. Love for Tracy-Ace, and embarrassment about it.

“Perhaps,” Harriet said, in an even voice, “we could let Tracy-Ace speak. I’m sure she’d like to answer some of our questions.”

“I would be happy to answer your questions,” Tracy-Ace said softly.

Answering their questions was no trivial matter; and as Tracy-Ace talked about Ivan’s scheme to draw first the Narseil and Legroeder—and later the Centrist Worlds—into talks, Morgan grew increasingly restless. “That’s all very well,” she said, “but what about the kidnapping of Maris? And those attacks on my mother and Legroeder? They almost died getting to McGinnis, you know. Are you going to explain those away?”

Tracy-Ace looked a little startled by the ferocity of the question. She closed her eyes for a moment; her cheek implants flickered frenetically. She muttered something under her breath before opening her eyes again. “We certainly had nothing to do with those attacks. I believe it was the local group Centrist Strength, under orders from Kilo-Mike/Carlotta.”

“If you knew that, why didn’t you do something to stop it?” Morgan demanded.

Tracy-Ace turned her palms up. “We didn’t know in advance. Understand, we have a few people here, but nothing like Carlotta. She has agents everywhere, including—well, we know where, now. All the way at the top of the Spacing Authority. We did what we could.” She turned to Maris. “I didn’t know until just now about your… protective custody. But yes—it was our people who took you.”

Maris’s face tightened.

“Our field commander had learned of the attack on Legroeder and Harriet,” Tracy-Ace continued. “It was his judgment that you were in grave danger, Maris, and that you very likely would not have left that hospital alive, or free, if they did not take action at once.” Tracy-Ace opened her hands in apology. “I’m sorry they treated you like a prisoner. Very sorry. Our agents truly were ordered to protect you. But they were insufficient, as it turned out. And they both paid with their lives. I’m very glad that your friends came to rescue you.” She nodded toward Morgan.

For a moment, no one seemed to know what to say, Legroeder least of all. Maris stared at Tracy-Ace with an uncertain expression. She seemed to be trying to process this latest twist, and coming up short. Finally Legroeder cleared his throat. “Maris, Tracy-Ace and her people saved my life, more than once. If she says that’s what happened, you can believe her.”

Maris did not shift her gaze from Tracy-Ace. But after a moment she nodded decisively. “Very well. Since you are a friend of Legroeder’s, I will allow that you may be telling the truth.” She glanced at Legroeder with a trace of a grin. “Seeing as how you saved my life, too, eh?”

Legroeder allowed a smile to tickle at his lips.

Tracy-Ace drew a deep breath. “That was one time when we managed to act ahead of Carlotta. But don’t misunderstand—even with North dead, Carlotta still has plenty of agents here, and they’ve managed to disassociate themselves from Centrist Strength with that attack on North’s ship. But don’t believe for a minute that they’re not still pulling strings in that group. They can cause plenty of trouble.”

“What do you intend to do?” Harriet asked.

Tracy-Ace opened her hands. “What can I do? It’s your world, not mine. I’ll help if I can—but my help won’t matter much if we don’t get Impris, and Legroeder and his implants, to the Narseil Rigging Institute.”

“Do you want to explain that to the others?” Harriet asked.

Tracy-Ace looked to Legroeder, who sighed. “When the Narseil fitted me with these implants—” he rubbed at his temples and behind his ears “—I didn’t know that they were going to end up recording some of the most crucial data in the history of starship rigging—and then treat it as a Narseil state secret.” (You bastards. Are you still there? Answer me, damn you.)

// Awaiting release codes. //

Stunned, Legroeder drew a sharp breath. (You’re there?)

No answer.

“You okay?” Tracy-Ace asked, cocking her head, as if she’d caught an echo of it.

Legroeder nodded slowly. “And so right here,” he continued, tapping the implants, “is where the data remain, even as we speak.”

Morgan and Maris stared at him. “What data?” Morgan demanded.

Legroeder closed his eyes with a shiver. “When we came out of the underflux with Impris, my implants mapped it all. It’s the most astounding, and beautiful, and deadly thing I’ve ever imagined—this network of quantum flaws woven through the whole galaxy, through spacetime.” He opened his eyes. “Every rigging world, and every rigger, needs to know about this.” He drew a breath. “And only the Narseil Rigging Institute can get at the data.”

Morgan and Maris sat stunned.

“So,” said Harriet, who had already had a chance to grasp the political implications, “it’s crucial that we get you to the Narseil Institute in one piece… along with Impris.”

“An understatement.”

“And… is this what the future peace is going to hinge upon?”

“That is almost certainly the case,” Tracy-Ace said softly. “Our mutual friend here—” her gaze drifted meaningfully to Legroeder “—has a long road still ahead of him.” Her eyes twinkled in contact with his. “Don’t you, babe?”

Legroeder grunted and tried not to notice the raised eyebrows all around him.

Chapter 42 Beginnings

It was another two days before Tracy-Ace was permitted to make her full presentation on behalf of Outpost Ivan. Though Special Envoy Clark made clear that a formal response from the government would take time, she acknowledged that the secretary general was open-minded on the subject of establishing relations with the Kyber outposts. “This does not in any way imply that we condone piracy,” she said sternly. “But we recognize that we have to consider being willing to move on. If you are serious about repatriating citizens—”

Tracy-Ace raised a hand. “Our first shipload of repatriates has just called in. They’ve entered the Faber Eri system.”

The officials in the room stirred as Clark replied, “Then we may indeed have something to talk about.”

The Narseil ambassador leaned forward. “That is good news, indeed.” He turned to the envoy. “May I ask if we might also talk about moving forward with the Impris investigation, and getting Rigger Legroeder to our Institute for study? In the interests of maintaining good relations with a people who have been forgiving of certain transgressions for these many years?”

Special Envoy Clark, with a faint smile, bowed her head slightly. “I think, my friend Mr. Ambassador, that it may be time to talk about that, as well.”

It was late that night, station time, when Legroeder finally got some time alone with Tracy-Ace, with watchful station guards standing a discreet distance away. Tracy-Ace clearly felt the strain of being around his friends—something he could only hope would pass, in time—and she gripped his hand tightly as they walked along the station’s observatory deck, watching the largest Faber Eri moon set behind the planet’s horizon.

“You’ll let me know the instant you hear from YZ/I about—”

“Harriet’s grandson? Of course. But you know, Legroeder…” Her words caught, and he felt a sudden chill. “There’s something you ought to know.”

He cocked his head, waiting uneasily.

Tracy-Ace hesitated, pressing her lips together. “Well—it’s just that not everyone will necessarily want to return.”

He tugged her around to face him. “What are you saying?”

Her gaze was unflinching. “Some of the people we offered repatriation to, for example. I know, I know—but Legroeder, for some people it becomes their way of life, to be with us. I’m not saying it should be that way, or that it’ll happen with Bobby. But it is possible.” She shrugged, and suddenly chuckled. “Although it’s hard to imagine why anyone would want to stay with KM/C, if they could help it.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t worry you about that. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

Legroeder nodded, and tried not to worry. There was more than enough to worry about already. He kept trying not to think about the quantum-flaw data, for one thing. He was taking it on faith that meaningful answers to the rigging hazards would be found within those maps in his head. It was a lot to stake on faith.

He drew a deep breath, and for a moment simply enjoyed standing on the deck of a space station—in normal-space—with Tracy-Ace at his side.

“When are you planning to tell them about the Kyber colonizing plans?” he asked, after a while. “That could be pretty explosive news, you know.”

Tracy-Ace chuckled. “That’s why I figured, one thing at a time. I thought I’d bring it up along with the negotiations for the Impris investigation—” she squeezed his hand and grinned “—meaning, the Rigger Legroeder implant investigation.”

How reassuring. “There’s no telling how they’ll react, you know.”

Tracy-Ace shrugged. “Maybe they need to be shaken out of their complacency and timidity. But one thing has to be clear—and that’s that we, and Carlotta, are deadly serious about getting the full report on the quantum flaws. Without that, everything falls apart.”

“Carlotta. Huh. You know, I was wondering why they just up and left, rather than sticking around to make sure things went the way they liked.”

“Well, now, that was part of their agreement with YZ/I. They got a chance to make a little demonstration of force, but still appear to be good guys.” Tracy-Ace snorted. “Or as good as they know how to be. They knew we were there, of course.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“And I wouldn’t assume that they’ve gone too far away. They’re almost certainly around somewhere.”

Legroeder absorbed that in silence. It would not do to become complacent about Carlotta’s future behavior, either. It wouldn’t take much, here on Eridani, for the analysis of Impris—and the data he carried—to become mired in disputes. “Tell me something, Trace. Is this all part of that bet between YZ/I and KM/C you told me about earlier?”

“Of course. All part of YZ/I’s plan to get Carlotta to start thinking about doing things differently. While keeping her own best interests in mind, naturally. She’d already lost Impris, but YZ/I convinced her that she could get something better. So she was willing to flush out some of her spies here, if it helped to ensure that she’d get access to this.” Tracy-Ace gently touched the side of Legroeder’s head.

He shivered at the reminder. “Will she stick to it? Will she stop the raiding? Is this where the honor among thieves kicks in?”

Tracy-Ace’s eyebrows went up. “We’ll find out, won’t we? She wouldn’t do it if she didn’t need the information from the Narseil as badly as we do. YZ/I let them save face here, but it’s in everyone’s interest to make sure Carlotta doesn’t wind up feeling conned. They did, after all, refrain from going after Impris—and you—while you were en route here.”

Legroeder felt that knot in his stomach again. He gazed at Tracy-Ace, and something else in his stomach told him there was more for him to ask. “And you… came to make sure Carlotta’s ships behaved themselves?”

“That, and other reasons.” Tracy-Ace looked out at the stars and laughed. Nervously? She turned to face him again, and clasped his hands between her own. “I was thinking… I might stay on a while.”

Legroeder felt a rushing in his ears.

Tracy-Ace looked down at their clasped hands. “For one thing, YZ/I wants to maintain a presence here. Through me.”

“Yes?” he murmured. “And the other?”

She let her breath out slowly and raised her eyes to meet his. Her implants were afire. “The other is, I’d like to stay with you. If you want me.”

His breath escaped with searing slowness.

“Do you want me?”

Legroeder’s eyes were blurring. “You mean that? Really?”

“I just said it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but—”

She stepped closer, until their bodies were just touching. “But what?”

He had trouble meeting her eyes. “Well—you have a life with—the Kyber, right? And I’ve got this history, where the Kyber are concerned. What about that?”

Tracy-Ace slipped her arms around him and hugged him wordlessly. She pressed her face to his shoulder.

He wanted, desperately, to be satisfied with that. “Trace,” he murmured, squeezing her, “what if YZ/I doesn’t live up to his promise?”

“Which promise?” she whispered.

“The promise to stop piracy.”

She chuckled into his shoulder. “I have a pretty good idea what promises he can be expected to keep, and why. I’m connected to YZ/I, Legroeder. I’m part of him.” She drew back and peered at him. “You mean you never suspected?”

Legroeder stared at her, feeling utterly stupid. “Do you mean that you’re—of course, you’re connected to him. Your augments…” He suddenly remembered his dream—or had it been a dream?—of his augments connected to Tracy-Ace’s, while he slept and she fought with YZ/I.

Tracy-Ace chuckled. “Yes, love. Not now. But when I’m there, in the intelnet. At certain times, you could say that I’m a significant component of his consciousness. Didn’t you ever wonder why he understood your views so well?”

Legroeder flushed. “Do you mean to say—” he glanced around and lowered his voice “—that when we were making love—”

“No, dear, not then. He might have been interested—but no. I’m me, Legroeder, not some hybrid. YZ/I, now—he’s a different story.”

He stared at her. “I won’t argue with that. What other tricks does he have for me? Or should I say, do you have for me?”

Tracy-Ace grinned. “Touché.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“No tricks,” she promised. “There’s a lot I have to do here, though. When our returnees start arriving, there’s going to be pressure on Carlotta to follow suit—especially if she thinks we’re benefiting from relations with the Centrist Worlds. On the other hand, if she thinks we’re betraying them, and convinces the Republic of that—anything could happen.” She turned to peer out at the curved edge of the planet. “By God, though, Legroeder, I’m going to make it work. Damn if I’m not.”

There was an adamance in her voice that he liked, and admired.

They walked arm in arm to the opposite end of the observation deck, away from the planet, where all they could see was the dark of deep space. They stood awhile, peering into the measureless infinity of stars. “There’s a lot to do at Outpost Ivan, before the first fleets can leave for the Well of Stars,” Tracy-Ace murmured. “I’ll need to go back eventually to join them. But right now my work is here, I think.” She gazed at Legroeder for several heartbeats. “You never answered my question. Do you want me here? Do you want me with you?”

He smiled out at the stars.

“Legroeder?”

He turned. “What exactly is it you want to do here with me, Trace? Besides making sure that I’m delivered in one piece to the Narseil?”

“Besides be with you? I’m not sure, I guess. Are you still in legal trouble?”

“I dunno yet. But I’ve got Harriet. I think we’ll be able to handle it.”

“But can I help you?”

Legroeder drew her close. “You helped me come back on the deck of Impris. I don’t know what more you could possibly do.”

Tracy-Ace’s augments were gleaming like jewels. She closed her arms around his neck. “How about if I do this?” she whispered, and kissed him. It was a long, slow kiss that flickered between his lips, and seemed to stretch out time itself. He imagined his implants tickling themselves to life, joining with hers; imagined them all talking back and forth, like an echo in a canyon.

// …love you… love you… love you… //

He held her close and thought, Maybe you can, at that. Maybe you just can.

“Are you going to answer me?”

He felt a foolish grin crack his face before the words came. “Sorry—I thought I already had…” And he kissed her again as, outside the viewport, the stars shone bright and beckoning.

THE END