Lupo and Two stepped into the office a moment after Blessed and Nyo walked in. Nyo said, “Oh, shit! This debacle had robbed him of his vocabulary.
Blessed looked like he was going to faint. “You?”
“Me, Blessed. Sit down.” Lupo checked them for weapons. Two covered, smiling her little smile. “They’re clean.” T. W. glared at them, not pleased.
Cable Shike walked in.
Two’s smile grew as Blessed worked it out.
“Cable?”
“I didn’t want it this way.”
“Why?”
“Placidia. Tina. Sooner or later you were going to realize you weren’t Placidia’s father. Sorry.”
Blessed glanced at Provik. “Did you know?”
“I suspected. Don’t be too broken up. He couldn’t make up his mind till the last second. Not that you could have pulled it off anyway. Though you might have gotten to T. W. Which makes her real happy. She keeps muttering about how she used to change your diapers.”
Nyo looked more desperate by the moment. He did not understand everything — especially not Lupo and his woman being here instead of off with the Ku — but he did see that he and Blessed had stumbled into a position where the others could not forgive and forget.
Blessed was slower. He didn’t get it till Cable said, “I’m really sorry,” and walked out.
“T. W.? You want the honors?”
“Provik! You can’t do this! I’m the Chair!”
“You’re the Blessed Other. You just tried the biggest double-shuffle of all time. As Shike will explain to the Directors when he releases them. If the Ku comes home, Cable can discover a huge miscarriage of justice. I won’t care. I won’t be here.”
Lupo secured the comm, grim. “That was Shike. It’s not over. He found the Directors all shot to death when he got home. Five, Six, you go. Take forensic people. Find me something.”
He was angry and depressed. He did not have time for this. Why couldn’t Blessed have waited?
— 120 —
Delicate Harmony let go its last hold on station. Station reciprocated. The mixed bridge gang backed off on steering jets, turned, sought the beacon range. Comm chattered with station, with two ships already in the range, with four that would come out behind Delicate Harmony.
Turtle’s flag squadron was off to war.
Despite his circumstances, he was content. The restless warrior had sword in hand and a perspective too narrow to worry about anything but the dance toward battle with the dragon.
The wizard was not asleep. It rode observer, sardonically amused. This flagship was so bizarrely crewed. Turtle had his own followers, Ku and soldiers of four other species. He had six methane breathers in a sealed and pressurized environment at the heart of the ship. He had two hundred twelve Outsider humans, half of whom would have little to do unless he launched his two riders and four fighters. He had Blessed, Midnight, the Valerena, Provik and his woman, none of whom could contribute much but were, at least, where he had some chance to shape their destinies.
He’d had no trouble keeping them. The decision-makers over there believed their compliment could control him and his twenty-four soldiers. They did not count the hostages as anything else.
Turtle was counting on them heavily.
His Outsiders laid the ship into the range the way they did everything, with humorless precision, keeping exact station on the ship ahead, a twin of Delicate Harmony. All the squadron were identical, drawn from a litter of thirty reserved for a debut during the operation.
Turtle looked at those Outsiders. They and the Guardship people would feel at home with each other. But for their ideals they were much alike.
His command. His first since the Dire Radiant. No fantasy now. Was he up to the task? Had everyone made too much of the legend?
His command. And every Outsider on three hundred ships would jump if he barked — so long as his methane breathers remained satisfied.
He went to his combat command center, which abutted the pressure hull of methane country. He scanned a display revealing last known dispositions of forces friendly and otherwise. The display was static now, several days behind realtime. Locations for the Guardships were guesswork. But that would change.
From the viewpoint of the Godspeakers, that simulated starscape had to be disheartening. There were just twelve worlds left where their kind held on. The number of subject worlds had begun to dwindle, too, as Guardships searched for forces they believed ought to be resisting them. At Turtle’s suggestion those worlds were not defending themselves. Their mobile strength had been drawn off for his ever more complex operation.
Let them surrender, become a burden upon the enemy, and wait till they could be reclaimed.
The communication personas of the Godspeakers were susceptible to persuasion. Like their human aides, they believed what they wanted to be true.
The Outsiders were possessed of more strength than Turtle had expected. More than the Guardships suspected. So the grand plan had been expanded, his aims growing with his confidence in his power to manipulate those who wanted him to be their redeemer.
He would launch blows at both heads of the dragon. Capitola Primagenia would sustain the first strike.
Everyone went to stations as Delicate Harmony approached the tag end. In moments the Web would rattle with instructions for and communications from units throughout the Outsider empire and Canon. In moments the clock of the grand design would begin to run.
— 121 —
The Pioyugov crew grew more sullen and fearful daily. Months had passed. They were sure they’d never get home. Jo was not sure she did not agree.
It was hard to sustain an allegiance to Seeker’s obsessive search for a Guardship that was never there when they reached its last reported destination.
The Pioyugovs had come near rebelling twice. Seeker had charmed them. Signs were the storm was gathering again. Charm would not work a third time.
Jo told AnyKaat, “I’ve got to talk him into heading for Starbase. Any bright ideas?”
“Lay it out and pound on the facts.”
“Big help. We’re going to run out of luck. We’ve had more than our share already. They know there’s a Traveler loose out here. These Pioyugovs are sneaky, but nobody’s good enough to get away from a whole fleet.”
“Tell him.”
Amber Soul answered her knock. She laid a finger to her mouth, a surprisingly human gesture. He is listening. They have ended their silence.
There was an undercurrent of excitement here. Whatever Seeker sensed, it was significant.
I will let him know you are here when the moment is opportune. Unless I will serve. He will want to inform you.
“We need to talk to him.”
Amber Soul went to hover over Seeker, who had installed himself in a reclining chair of primitive manufacture. It was entirely mechanical.
Seeker distracted the eye from the chair, though. He was doing nothing to conceal his appearance. That, while bifurcate and bilateral, was as far from human as Jo could imagine. He looked like a snake that had tried to turn into a man and had gone down a blind alley toward albino, fishy horror built on birdlike feet. In places he was semitransparent.
Jo was not sure she ought to believe her eyes even now.
She turned her back so she could keep her mind on business. AnyKaat copied her. They spent twenty minutes rubbing water out of her eyes and wishing they were somewhere else.
Lieutenant Jo?
She turned. Seeker had on his public face. “Amber Soul says you’ve been listening in on the Outsiders.”
The Web is awash with their communications. So heavily it is impossible to follow everything. I will have to use Amber Soul as well if we are to keep abreast, if the deluge continues.
“What’s happened?”
They have begun their counterattack, starting with great confidence that they will cause Canon and the Guardships much grief and force the Guardships to withdraw.
“They won’t do that. The Guardships don’t defend Canon, they exterminate Canon’s enemies. There’s a difference.”
Their mission of vengeance is... different.
Their command force came onto the Web not long ago. It sent the order to begin, working against a count approximating one hundred of your days. There are many forces involved. One seems headed for Capitola Primagenia.
“Shit! That would be a kick in the balls.” Capitola Primagenia! That would set Canon’s Rims afire. They might burn for centuries.
Of interest to us is that ships have been sent to follow and report on Guardships. They may find VII Gemina for us. And a ship has been assigned to track us down.
“That’s about why I’m here. If we don’t light out pretty soon the crew will kill us. They’re too scared to reason with.”
Instruct the Chief Operating Officer to move toward friendly space. He is not to follow the direct strand. The hunter is coming that way. Go. We are in a race. Minutes may be critical. It is a long run to an anchor point where we can present the pursuit with more options than it can follow.
Jo went, boggled and baffled, found the Pioyugov Chief, told him he could head for home and cautioned him that a hunter might be on their track.
Jo was in the galley when she felt Seeker’s compelling summons. She dropped what she was doing and went. As Amber Soul beckoned her into the suite alarms sounded. “Proximity!” Jo cursed. “That sonofabitch took the direct strand.”
Yes.
“Him and me are going to have a talk.”
Wait! Hope is not yet lost. It will take the hunter time to reach a turn node. We will have a fourteen-hour lead when it begins its chase. It will need several days to catch up. There is a Guardship we can reach first.
“Which one?”
I do not know. They are using a code for unhurried reports. Its identity matters less than its proximity.
“To you, maybe. I’d as soon take my chances with the Outsiders as be saved by IV Trajana again.”
It is the only safe isle in a hostile sea.
“I’m going to have my meeting of the minds with the Chief.”
I shall be along presently.
Jo stopped off to consult her arsenal before visiting the bridge.
Jo or AnyKaat remained on the bridge every moment, armed and angry. They made sure the Pioyugovs held the heart of the strand and ran in the red.
They understood better a day later, when Seeker came onto the bridge. The hunter is a new type. It has more power than expected. It is gaining faster than expected.
“Catch that, genius?” Jo snapped at the Chief. “You wind this son out and stretch it or I’m personally going to make sure those bastards take you alive.”
— 122 —
Six Tregesser ships left P. Benetonica 3B together: three overstaffed Haulers, two crowded Travelers, and a Voyager carrying Lupo Provik, his family, and T. W. Trice. House Tregesser’s fleet would limp fora while. Provik did not intend sending those ships home.
House Tregesser belonged to Tina Bofoku and Cable Shike now. And Shike would have no trouble running it his way. It would be a long time before the Directorate recovered.
Lupo watched his homeworld dwindle. T. W. joined him. She was on the same wavelength. “Shike killed them, didn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“I checked every angle I could think of.”
“He did it. Even if he and Tina can account for every second.”
“Maybe if we knew what he planned before he walked into the Pylon and found out you weren’t gone.”
“It doesn’t matter. He won’t last. The Guardships or Outsiders will finish him before the year is up.”
“I’m glad you finally took my advice.” For years she had urged him to get out.
“We finally could afford to.”
— 123 —
WarAvocat rested his hands on the back of Aleas’s seat. A black ship model floated before her. Its length to thickness ratio was the highest he’d ever seen. That indicated a high powered linear accelerator type starspace drive. Ought to be a going sonofabitch running a straight course.
“New approximation?” The original had been watching them for two days.
“Yes. And Gemina doesn’t like it. These bulges along here, all the way back, are riders.” She tapped her board. Two lesser hulls separated from opposite sides of the main. “The riders’ drives are always clear. They can output with the rider nested. These blisters between riders are fighters. They nest nose down thirty degrees with their drives clear.”
“They can thrust to maneuver the main?”
“Gemina says the whole can outrun and outmaneuver most anything.”
“Tractor vanes on the riders, too?”
“Light duty but mounted so they can supplement those on the main.”
“A beautifully wicked piece of machinery.”
“Probe has both oxygen and methane readings from inside.”
“Let’s see what it can do.”
WarAvocat launched five riders and a dozen pursuit fighters on silent approaches. He and Aleas moved to WarCentral.
“WarAvocat. Target is moving.”
Impossible. “No way could he have picked up our secondaries yet.”
“Gemina concurs. Target action is independent of ours.”
WarAvocat watched track data develop. Moving closer to the Web. And not sneaking. “Find its closest point of approach to the strand. Redirect the strike there.”
The strand marked the apex of a triangle. The shortest leg ran to VII Gemina. Time passed. The Outsider spotted the secondaries. It accelerated.
“That bastard can move!”
“Attack speed,” WarAvocat directed.
Minutes later, “WarAvocat, target has launched two riders and four fighters.”
He asked Aleas, “Why? They can’t handle what I sent.” He studied the geometry. His secondaries would reach CPA moments behind the Outsiders.
A pinpoint of light appeared in the main action tank, waxed, waned, between converging forces. A breakaway.
On the time lag mark, Gemina piped, “... emergency. Guardship, this is Lieutenant Jo Klass TAD off Guardship VII Gemina aboard Pioyugov Traveler Dawn Watch. I have a bogie on my tail. Emergency. Emergency.”
“Red One!” WarAvocat snapped. “Aleas. Missiles and interceptors.” Alarms wailed, “Access, OpsAvocat. Stand by to move ship.”
A second breakaway came. The speaker added to her message, “The bogie is off the Web and launching. I have you fixed. I’m coming in hard.”
Missile tracks moved toward the action at accelerations that would cause ordinary steel to creep like heated wax.
Aleas remarked, “She’s cool.”
“She’s a good soldier.” Jo Klass. Out here. With two top-tech Outsiders trying to keep her from getting home. What the hell?
They were shooting out there now.
His secondaries brushed the insystem group away from the Traveler. Others met the breakaway in a head-on firing pass. A fighter died on each side. The breakaway had not put out its riders. It was gaining on the Traveler fast. No way his secondaries could turn and catch up. The Traveler would live or die depending on Aleas’s missiles.
The voice from the Traveler calmly announced, “Bogie is launching missiles.”
WarAvocat watched his own streak closer, chased by lagging interceptors. He did not ask Gemina for the probabilities. He had a bad feeling and did not want it confirmed.
Klass must have had a bad feeling, too. “WarAvocat, we’re getting a coded squirt from the Traveler.”
“WarAvocat, the Outsider has done a rollover and is using full thrust to dump velocity.”
They believed they had their kill.
He checked his secondaries. Most were maneuvering to face the Outsider’s escape run. The other and its riders had climbed onto the Web, to safety, leaving its fighters to fend for themselves.
His first missiles streaked past the Traveler as
the enemy’s arrived. That fraction of the universe turned to fire.
“Guardship, we have damage aft. The ship is starting to break...” A roaring blast of static. Then nothing.
— 124 —
Excluding Delicate Harmony, all ships of the new class had names like Sword of Shadow, Fang of Darkness, Voice of Doom. Turtle thought the Outsiders a real uplifting, cheerful bunch.
He had been summoned to combat because Hunger of the Destroyer, shadowing VII Gemina, and Edge of Night, chasing a mystery Traveler, had them a situation.
He entered combat, glanced at a display of that remote encounter. “What have we got?”
An Outsider brought him the brittle yellow paper they used for hard copy. “Transcript of in-clear messages from the Traveler to the Guardship. They transmitted more by coded squirt.”
The Traveler had been fading when he arrived. Now a missile, making an appreciable percentage of the velocity of light, caught Edge of Night. End of that story.
Hunger of the Destroyer sat on the Web nearby, recovering its riders. It would resume shadowing VII Gemina once it had its riders aboard.
He scanned the intercepted messages. “Klass?” That did not seem possible. How much had she passed to the Guardship?
Enough, probably.
“Who has seen these?” he asked.
One of his own said, “You and the tech who transcribed them.”
Good. The tech would say nothing. He would not. No telling what the Tregesser hostages would do if they heard.
Something suicidal, surely. This meant the game was up for House Tregesser.
What else it might mean remained to be seen. The wizard would have to chew on it.
Delicate Harmony continued its headlong plunge toward Canon space.
— 125 —
WarAvocat let Klass’s decrypted report scroll a few lines, stopped it. He glanced over to see how they were doing rounding up the chunks of the Pioyugov Traveler, to see if they were keeping that in the Guardship’s shadow relative to the Outsider, which had broken off the Web again. Then he looked up.