2545 - Intersteller Highway - Not Finished

[Calder]

Intersteller Highway
Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Over Anatolia

Fired at point-blank range, the armor-piercing bolt struck the side armor and slashed through as if it was an eggshell. The kinetic energy of the impact turned the depleted uranium bolt and the armor it had just shattered into a ball of plasma that surged through the void at the side of the DSB-36 and into the primary starboard passageway. There, it took the path of least resistance and surged fore and aft down that open tube. The portion of the plasma ball that went aft had an uninterrupted run aft to the machinery space compartment hatch. It blew that open without much trouble and vented its remaining fury on the machinery and people within. The other portion went forward, devastating some of the living space en route and then erupting through the hatch that lead to the primary flight deck. It blasted through that area, killing Lieutenant Williams and Lieutenant Soo instantly, blasting their bodies into vapor and then expelling that remnant of them through the transparent paneling that formed the nose of the DSB-36. Within less than a second of the impact, Showgirl was drifting helplessly, most of her 22 crewmen dead, her command system and propulsion machinery disabled, her hull venting helplessly.

“We are so screwed.” Williams was running his eyes over the crimson sea that told of the tale of disaster inflicted by the devastating hit.

“Royally,” agreed Lieutenant Soo. She was doing the same. Her instrument panel more or less duplicated his. The difference was that Williams had his displays set to emphasize the weapons and defensive systems, which were, after all, the reason why Showgirl had been built. Soo had her displays set to show damage control systems propulsion and life support. If they’d had a chance to fire, he’d have engaged the enemy while she’d kept Showgirl in fighting condition. But, they’d never had the chance. Belladonna a few miles off to starboard had scored perfectly and there was a big fluorescent orange patch disfiguring the smooth dark gray of Showgirl’s side to prove it.

“Got the replay Boss.” Soo was putting the tape of the engagement up on the overhead display screen. “Belladonna pulled a slick one. See, here they are at an angle to us horizontally and a little rolled away. Looks like clumsy station keeping but really they’re blocking our view of their nose. Then they kicked in their main propulsion unit and rolled up, exposing the two heavy mass drivers under the nose. They’d already dialed the fire control solution for that in. Now, here’s the clever bit. They put the main thrust through their roll control almost immediately, swinging their nose around and towards us. Now, our close-in defense system had predicted their shots as soon as they started to move, but the position showed the shots directed towards our stern. They couldn’t compensate quite fast enough for the sudden change. Belladonna fired five mass-driver shots and the CIDS got the last four. The first one got through.

“They may have a master play here Boss. They rat-trapped us. If CIDS anticipated that sudden swing and they had fired without it, they’d have gotten us with a series of hits around the engines. If CIDS had ignored that swing completely, they’d have got us with a series of hits amidships and forward. I think it’s a master play.”

A master play was a tactical maneuver that defied easy counters. There weren’t many of them. Most maneuvers had known counters-plays and those were either in the artificial intelligence of the deep space bombers or in the minds of their crews. But, once in a while, a crew did come up with a master play and, once they’d sprung it on somebody, it would be distributed around the fleet. The crew who’d counted the coup would have bragging rights for weeks and the design engineers would go to work to find a way to defeat the new maneuver. Sometimes, most of the time, they succeeded. Eventually. When they didn’t, the maneuver became a true Master play.

Captain Newman entered the flight deck just about the time the message came over from Belladonna. “Showgirl, this is Belladonna. We count coup and claim forfeit.”

Newman had already seen the tape on his monitor and could see the sea of red and orange displays indicating the estimated damage from where he stood. He flipped the communications over to his private channel. “Fair Coup, Belladonna. What can we do for you?” Andrews listened for a moment. “Lieutenant Andrew Williams and Lieutenant Yelina Soo.” Another long pause. “I’ll tell them.”

He turned to his flight deck crew. “Tony, Belladonna’s officers think that their shoes need cleaning. You will oblige this evening. Yelina, tonight is their mess dining-in and they would like you to waitress their table.” She chuckled and shook her head with resignation. Belladonna’s claimed ‘forfeit’ was traditional and an in-joke between fellow professionals.

“Serves you right.” The voice came through the intercom speakers on the flight deck. “Getting me blown up like that. Who is going to get that paint cleaned off my side, that’s what I want to know.”

Newman laughed. “OK Showgirl. We’ll get right to it.”

Galley, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Over Anatolia

Williams stowed the shoe-cleaning kit in its locker and sighed. He’d been speaking with the officers on Belladonna and it did look like they had come up with something special. In addition to its big bomb bay and the two heavy mass drivers under the nose, the DSB-36 had dorsal and ventral mountings for light mass drivers. Those mountings had multiple functions, one being to defend against enemy fighters while the bomber was doing its run. Another, when they were coupled to the ship’s computers and sensors was as the close-in defense system, the CIDS was a last-ditch attempt to intercept any inbound threats. Belladonna had come up with another; they’d been working with their defensive systems until they’d found a flaw in the targeting algorithms. They’d explained how it was done, now, as soon as her crew got the chance, Showgirl would try it out for herself.

The trouble with firefights out here was that everything took place too quickly. The electrically powered rail guns hurled their steel-coated depleted uranium bolts so fast that the shots struck home almost as they were fired. The artificial intelligence built into the fire control systems had to predict when shots were coming and get the counters out almost before the enemy had opened fire. It was an integrated system, the electronic countermeasures built into the ship tried to delay the enemy target acquisition while the sensors and fire control were locking their weapons in. The problem was that the AI system could only interpret threats and maneuvers it had been programmed to recognize. That was why SAC crews were encouraged to take potshots at each other with simulated munitions. Given enough incentive, a crew could come up with an idea that eluded the experts. There were penalties as well, of course, if Belladonna’s ploy had failed, Williams would now be wearing freshly polished shoes and Soo would have had her evening meal served by a member of Belladonna’s flight deck crew.

The door dilated and Soo swung in, landing neatly on her feet. Moving around in the bombers was more of an art form than anything else, it needed an instinctive grasp of ballistics and momentum. SAC didn’t waste weight and power trying to simulate gravity, its crews strapped down and fought in free-fall. Off duty, it made life interesting though. “Hungry Yelina?”

“Mmm, thanks. The sight of all that food made me starving. Belladonna sets a good table. They’ve invited me back sometime.” Williams opened the grill and flipped in a steak. While it browned, he took two slices of bread from the baking rack, spread relish on one, mayo on the other then took the steak out the grill. It was barely warmed, like most wolfen, Soo liked her meat almost raw. Williams wasn’t quite certain whether it was a genuine preference or her playing to the audience. Still, almost raw it would be. He quickly assembled the sandwich, put it inside a plate and floated it over. Soo plucked it out the air and took a mouthful of the mid-rats meal. As she did so, the enlarged canine teeth that gave her sub-species its name were exposed. That was rare, like most wolfen, she tended to keep her mouth closed, even when yawning or smiling. The sight of those teeth made traditional humans a little nervous.

Williams picked up his own meal, this late at night he preferred fish to steak, and joined her at the small galley table. There was a lot of debate about the wolfen. Some held they were the next stage of human evolution, that they would eventually replace traditionals. There was some evidence for that, studies did seem to show that the gene mutation that produced the wolfen was dominant. Others held that the wolfen were simply another minor variant of the human species, their differences being no more significant than those of black or Asian humans. They even suggested that the wolfen sub-group wasn’t a recent mutation at all but had been cropping up for centuries, hence the legends of werewolves. It was just that the post Dark Ages tolerance of humans had meant they could become established. There was evidence for that as well, there were Black, Caucasian and Asian wolfen, suggesting that their evolution pre-dated the divergence of those groups. Oddly, there were no known wolfen Daimones. A third group suggested that the wolfen were a product of the Dark Ages, that the human race had split during the four hundred yearlong holocaust of disease and death . That neither traditionals nor wolfen were really equivalent to pre-Dark Age humans, but if somebody averaged Wolfen and traditional capabilities, they’d come close to that. And some of the plagues that had struck during the Dark Ages were known to be mutagenic.

Wolfen were certainly different from traditionals now though. They were stronger, quicker-moving and had faster reactions. Their senses were better as well, hearing and smell were more acute but it was their eyesight that was quite different, the spectrum they saw was shifted towards the red, Soo could see into the infrared but lost coverage at the indigo and violet end to the same extent. Also, wolfen eyesight was incredibly sensitive to movement but wasn’t so good at seeing things that were stationary. Oddly the most obvious difference of wolfen, the enlarged canine teeth were also the least significant, they were no stronger than traditional human teeth and their size made them vulnerable to breakage. Soo had once joked that wolfen had evolved to keep traditional dentists in business. The big difference, though, wasn’t physical, it was mental. Wolfen, well it was hard to describe, they just weren’t as stable as traditionals. Perhaps unstable was the wrong word, capricious might be better. Given a job they dived in with unmatched enthusiasm but their perseverance in the face of a project that was going wrong wasn’t so good. Nevertheless, Williams and Soo had found themselves well matched as a flight deck crew, privately they reckoned they were as good as any and better than most.

“Mail arrived today.” That wasn’t surprising, here in Earth Orbit, mail from the surface, the Moon or the Space Habitats was being delivered virtually to its doorstep. Despite the availability of electronics, written letters, the fact somebody had taken the trouble to sit down with a pen and a piece of paper, still had an unequalled morale value and the services knew it. Radio messages and conversations were gone, just memories, once ended but a letter could be kept and re-read on long missions. So the mail got through, even in deep space. Compared with that commitment, Earth Orbit was easy.

“Anything for me?” Soo’s voice had a laugh buried in it. Williams pushed a half dozen letters over, some from the surface, some from topside. Their combination of strength, speed and reflexes made wolfen women spectacular lovers. Unfortunately their partners quickly found that their volatility meant that they tended to move on long before their lovers were ready for the parting. Soo was, like most wolfen, promiscuous and her mail tended to be filled with fairly avid love-letters from deserted suitors who were offering her the world if she would come back. Usually, she passed the better ones around the Officer’s mess so everybody could enjoy the purple prose. Soo was quickly flipping through the pile.

“Idiot, boring, dumb, boring, wimp. And one from Gieves and Hawkes.” Gieves and Hawkes were traditional uniform tailors. Every officer had an account with them and got their statements regularly, usually with question attached as to whether they could expect payment? There was a fine art in keeping Gieves and Hawkes happy without actually paying off the account completely. Williams looked at his pair. One was his G&H statement, the other, Tony groaned audibly. Soo raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no. It’s a girl I met on my last leave. I dumped her and she’s been hounding me ever since. Trying to save me from myself I guess.”

Soo’s eyebrow flickered. “What’s the matter with her?”

“She’s a pacifist.” William’s voice had more than a touch of embarrassment in it. Soo’s face had a quick flash of disgust on it, quickly wiped so as not to upset her friend. “How did you manage to end up with one of them?” People had better things to do than associate with pacifists.

“It was an accident, honest Yelina. I was in a bar out of uniform and I’d had a few drinks. Enough to give my gun to the bartender for safekeeping. She came in, she looked OK and either she wasn’t wearing the junk they usually display or I didn’t see it. Anyway, one thing led to another and we stayed overnight at the bar. We arranged to meet at a place nearby for lunch and she went off. I cleaned up, got into uniform and picked up my gun. When I got to the meeting place, I saw her coming, wearing those idiotic slogans they all sport. So I just turned around and walked away. I don’t know how she found out who I was, but she started writing me letters. Long whiny ones, telling me how I was turning my back on the only person who had ever had true feelings about the world, how I was too stupid and ignorant to understand the fine things that were so obvious any thinking person - by which she means anybody who agrees with her. Usual nonsense. Look, keep this quiet Yelina, please? I didn’t want anybody to know about it.” Soo nodded, being crewmates made people close and a crew kept its secrets secret.

It wasn’t as if there was anything actually illegal or prohibited about associating with pacifists or even ending up in bed with one. They were human after all and weren’t actually physically diseased. It was just that they had such strange, demented ideas. No, it wasn’t against regulations to associate with one but a commanding officer with a fitness report to fill out might find any such association a reason to question a young officer’s judgment. Nobody had ever quite proved that pacifists had been responsible for the onset of the Dark Ages but most believed it. Viewed objectively, Soo thought, it took a certain measure of courage to openly proclaim beliefs that were so loathed by the overwhelming majority of the population. That didn't mean she had to like the people who held those opinions.

She finished her sandwich and put the garbage back inside her plate. Williams had finished eating so she policed his plate as well then took both back to the trash incinerator. She missed the first set of vibrations in the noise of the compactor but she didn’t miss the second.

“Tony, Flight deck are retracting the mass driver mounts, we must be going downside.”

Williams hadn’t noticed, but he grasped the significance of the mass-drivers being retracted at once. The mounts were vulnerable to heat on re-entry so they were retracted inside Showgirl’s hull for the ride down through the planetary atmosphere. In the old days, before the Dark Ages, re-entry from space had been a risky affair, the craft coming back down in a ball of fire and superheated gas. Legend said not all of them made it, the incredible heat had caused them to break up on the way down. But that was long ago, now the fuel reserves of the bombers and their controllability allowed a much easier re-entry path. The bombers could still do the balls-to-the-wall dive through the atmosphere if they had to, the exotic metal-ceramic alloys of their hull plating allowed that. The maneuver was reserved for bombing runs though, when they would dive on their target, using the heat and fury of a high-speed reentry to mask their position until they fired their missiles and dropped their bombs.

Soo and Williams swam up through the companionway to the flight deck. The hatchway lead them into the Engineering Pit, below and behind the primary flight deck. Even from there, they could see a full crew was on hand, an officer and an enlisted in Engineering, two officers in the flight deck crew seats and Captain Newman in the Commander’s Seat above and behind them. There was a sixth seat on the bridge, a small jump seat in the back that was, by tradition, installed on every SAC bomber. It was never used, it was there for General LeMay, the Sixth Crew Member. The sagas of General LeMay claimed that if ever a SAC bomber crew was in deadly danger, the Sainted General would appear in that seat, to help them to safety or to share their fate. To civilians it was just one of SAC’s legends and they didn’t believe it but then, most civilians didn’t believe that SAC’s bombers spoke to their crews either.

“Are we square with Belladonna?” Captain Newman had shown no sign of being aware Soo and Williams had entered the flight deck but the question was pointed straight at them. “And did she say anything?”

“We’re square and on the level Sir. Belladonna didn’t say anything but we both heard a few conceited chuckles.” Newman nodded, bombers rarely spoke to anybody other than their own crews but they did make their opinions known now and then. Even today, the psychiatrists still claimed that the bombers never really spoke to their crews and came up with elaborate theories about shared illusions. The crews themselves knew better.

“We’re on our way down now, we’re scheduled to land at Patterson.” Newman returned his attention to the two crew stations in front of him. He’d deliberately timed this landing to act as a training exercise for his junior flight deck crew. If Williams and Soo had been bringing Showgirl in, he would have left them to it but the present crew needed tuition. Soo looked out the front cockpit transparency. As Showgirl descended, the Earth was rotating underneath them America was a glaring riot of lights, even from up here, it was almost painful to look at. America had survived the onset of the Dark Ages, safe behind its screens of fighters and missiles. When the plagues struck with all their full fury, almost half the American population had escaped death. The Americans had also had the space stations and the bases on the Moon and Mars. They’d been untouched, quarantined and they’d kept their populations safe and continued to explore space while the people of Earth fought their battle to survive. Watching the lights roll past underneath the descending bomber, the stories of those dreadful days ran through Soo’s mind. If it hadn’t been for the Daimones, if they hadn’t devoted so much of their long lives to building refuges for humans, mankind might be extinct by now. Once, in mythology, Demons had been the bad guys. That would never be the case again.

The lesser glare of lights in Russia and the Triple Alliance showed how much worse things could have been They hadn’t been as lucky as the Americans, or not quite. India had been hammered dreadfully by the epidemics of bio-engineered infection, South East Asia less so and Australia had done almost as well as America. The Triple Alliance had a more limited space program but they had established undersea bases that had achieved much the same as the American space stations. After all, they’d had their Daimones too who had saved a vital core of people but, much more significantly, they’d saved knowledge and history. The Americans had stored copies of everything they could think of in space, the Triple Alliance had done so under the sea. Between them, no knowledge had been lost although, in truth, things hadn’t advanced much in the last four hundred years either.

Russia had shared the American space stations of course and on Earth, the Americans had stood by their Russian ally. Together and aided by Russia’s even more traditional ally, its viciously cold winters, they had fought back the tide of disease. The still dimmer lights of the Asian Federation showed how badly they had suffered and how far they had to go before they recovered. Of the populations in China and Japan, less than one in a hundred had survived. The Caliphate had hit China with its bioweapons first and the combination of poor medical facilities facing unknown unimaginable diseases had been lethal. Even worse the diseases had proved unstable and mutated faster than medical authorities could handle them. But they had done well in comparison with the really chilling sight, the stark bleak black of the lifeless desolation that covered the area that had once been The Caliphate and Africa. It was still the Dark Ages down there, and always would be. Oh, it was rumored that some degenerate survivors of the humans that had lived there still survived, devolved by the mutagenic diseases and the effects of nuclear bombing until they were hardly dissimilar to their primate ancestors. But nobody went there, there was nothing to see, and the risk of disease was too great. The area was quarantined and that was it. Nobody went in and, as sure as death, nobody came out. It was a relief to leave the darkness behind and see the brilliance of America again.

“You two, once we’re down, we’ll be loading up with fuel and warshots. Missiles and bombs. Plus decoys of course. Belladonna is coming down with us. She’ll be loading up as well. So, you’ve got a twelve hour ground leave. Get some sleep now so you don’t waste any of it. After we take off again, we’re going exploring.

[Calder]

Chapter 2
Ordnance Handling Area, Patterson Air Force Base.

It took the genius of SAC to design something that could give its crews simultaneous cases of both claustrophobia and agoraphobia. The DSB-36 managed it. It wasn’t that Showgirl looked small, from the outside at least. Her flat, rectangular fuselage was more than 200 feet long and her delta wings spanned almost the same. That made her anything but petite. The problem was she was so stuffed full of equipment that the space left for her crew was limited. Once she was downside and her crew could compare their cramped and Spartan quarters with the apparently limitless spaces of earth, they wondered how their sanity could survive living in such conditions. Yet, once in space, that very cramped environment changed from a penalty into a comforting mental defense against the genuinely limitless void of space. How limitless space could be was something that was only now becoming apparent. There was, at least as far as could be determined, no indication of any end to it. Some people couldn’t go into space at all, they took one look at the endless expanse of nothing and it sucked their minds from their bodies. They fell into a trance from which it could take years to recover, if the victims ever did.

Now, Showgirl was sitting in the ordnance area, getting a standard maintenance overcheck prior to being loaded and bombed up. Some trolleys with weaponry had already been towed up for Belladonna parked a hundred yards or so away. Williams looked them over. Two of the vicious, cone-shaped Hibex missiles with 350 kiloton warheads and two 550 kiloton gravity bombs. There were also six decoy rockets. Their electronic payload was supposed to simulate the size and radar cross-section of the DSB-36. Nobody really believed they would be effective for more than a few seconds but in a firefight, a few seconds may just provide an edge. Then, there were the flare and chaff ejectors and the other kit. Nobody had really much faith in those either. Pretty standard load for an exploration mission. It didn’t even begin to fill Showgirl’s capacious bomb bay. The balance was being stocked with the probes needed to map a new plughole and extra fuel tanks.

The ground crews were erecting a gantry beside the flat sides of Showgirl’s fuselage, getting ready to scrub off the fluorescent orange paint patch. Soo was watching them; as Williams looked on, he saw her stop one the Crew Chiefs surrounding the bomber. “Senior Chief, there’s a heat concentration on our wing leading edge. Third panel join out from the root. Get somebody to look at it please.” Williams saw her point the area in question out and an airman being detached to get a thermal scanner so the suspect area could be inspected in detail. Being able to see into infra-red did have its advantages. Then she saw Williams watching and came over. “Got any plans Tony?”

“Sound dull Yelina but I’ve never been here before, Patterson isn’t one of our normal operating bases. So, I was going to grab a chance to see the Museum. I’ve always wanted to go there, pay my respects, but never had a chance.”

“Sounds good. You mind if I tag along?” Williams made an exaggerated expression of shock.. Soo punched him on the arm. “We’re not always insatiable you know. I’ve wanted to look around there as well.”

Bomber Alley, SAC Wing, USAF Museum, Dayton, Ohio.

“There she is Tony!” Soo pointed out the plaque and quietly she started to sing, flat and out of tune but with feeling, the song that had become the unofficial anthem of SAC. ‘The Ballad of Marisol’.

“For once upon a morning bright
An airman painted o-on
The new aircraft we all would know
By the name of Marisol”

They were standing in front of the SAC Memorial Arch, at the end of the long parade that was called Bomber Alley. The walls of the arch was covered with plaques, starting with The Seven, the B-36s shot down during The Big One, then, below them, all the rest of the bombers SAC had lost since the force had been founded. Each plaque was identical, with the bomber’s name, her nose art and the names of her crew. Some had a golden star beside their names, indicating they had been killed when the aircraft had been lost, others the silver star that showed they had ejected over enemy territory and been rescued by SEALs. In a way the history of the world was told there, the incredible victory of The Big One that had taken one day to end a war the rest of the world had fought for seven years. Followed by the long, quiet, casualty-free years of the Pax Americana. Then, the slow breakdown of that peace and the equally steady increase in SAC losses. At the end, the horror of the Great Biowars, the long lists of bombers that had gone down keeping America and her allies free of infection. They were the aircraft that had died burning out the plague pits of The Caliphate. Then, once again, after the holocaust of losses, the quiet as what was left of the world had struggled with darkness, trying to save itself from the self-inflicted pestilence.

“You all do that you know.” The voice came from behind them, Williams and Soo turned around to face the person speaking to them. Then jumped rigidly to attention. They were in uniform but they’d have done the same if they’d been stark naked. The figure was wearing the uniform of a full SAC General, had the pale blue silk ribbon with stars and had the nameplate Dedmon. Any one of the three would have gained the formality and respect, all three together was overkill. A General, even a retired one, with the Medal of Honor and representing one of SAC’s first families, it was enough greatness overkill to silence even two brash Lieutenants. General Dedmon solemnly returned the salutes. “Stand easy, and for Heaven’s sake relax. Williams? Soo? You’re from ..... Showgirl....... aren’t you? Good aircraft. Reputation to be proud of.”

“Thank you Sir.” Williams had found his voice again. Soo was still standing rigid, her eyes fixed on the General’s nametag. The Dedmons were one of the traditional SAC families, along with the Kozlowskis, the O’Sevens, the Hitchins, the Clancy’s, the Sheppards, the Martins and the rest. Generation after generation had joined Strategic Air Command, served out their careers then handed on the baton. “We’re down for twelve hours while we load up, so we thought we would come to see Bomber Alley - and Texan Lady of course.”

“Of course” Dedmon spoke a little dryly. “The B-58 we have here is an H-model you know, a lot later than Marisol. She was a C-model. For Heaven’s sake Lieutenant, relax. You’ll pull a muscle like that.”

The last comment had been directed at Soo who was still at attention. She grinned a bit sheepishly at the rebuke. “Sir, is it true Texan Lady is so well preserved, her engines can be started. And can we get into her?”

Dedmon shook his head. “Once we could run her engines but they’d shake her apart now, she’s a very old lady. The B-36 was always a bit like that, they only had a life of about seven or eight years before vibration and metal fatigue aged their structure beyond repair. I’m afraid getting into her is impossible as well. You notice all the pre-Dark Ages aircraft are sealed off in special enclosures? That helps us keep them at constant temperature and humidity and the plastic walls cut out the ultra-violet. The metal’s been treated with preservative to stop corrosion. The nearest you can get is if you go around the back of Texan Lady, there’s a display of the cockpit you can sit in. You’ll find its very different from anything you’re used to. Worth a look though, we’ve done a good job. Enjoy yourselves Lieutenants.”

The General walked off, continuing his daily inspection of the museum. The chance meeting had pleased him and given him a chance to confirm his long-held beliefs. Lieutenants were brash and hurled themselves where Daimones feared to tread. A strange expression, Dedmon thought, all the Daimones he’d met had been very careful where they put their feet. Captains and Majors were so absorbed with their duties they failed to notice the rest of the world existed, Colonels spent most of their time trying to make sure they became generals while generals spent most of their time trying to be politicians. Ah, but being a retired general was perfect. It was like being a grandfather, one could spend time with the youngsters when they were interesting and hand them off to somebody else when they got to be troublesome. That thought made Dedmon smile contentedly as he proceeded around the displays.

Williams and Soo exchanged glances. “Well, I think we just made complete fools of ourselves didn’t we? Let’s look at that display.” They set off under the arch with a certain amount of relief. There was something terribly unnerving about a friendly General.

Texan Lady was the other side of the Memorial Arch, secure in her plastic box, watched over by an Honor Guard of four Americans and four Russians. The tradition went back centuries, to before the Dark Ages. It had become a symbol of an alliance that had grown and matured to the point where neither partner could really imagine existence without the other. A fight to survive will do that and the Dark Ages had been a desperate fight just to stay alive. After the holocaust of the first few years, pretty much all the resources of the survivors had been thrown into fighting the Plagues. As a result, medical science had taken giant strides, solving mysteries that had defied previous generations. The overriding need to cure unimaginable diseases that had been deliberately made immune to existing forms of treatment had borne fruit in other areas as well. Cures had been found for most of the existing diseases that had beleaguered mankind, it was the new ones that were the problem of course. The price had been paid in physics, chemistry, atomics, virtually every other area of science. They’d come to a complete halt; the walk down Bomber Alley had shown that. The systems on board Showgirl weren’t that much more advanced than the ones on the museum pieces here. The rifles carried by the Honor Guard looked different from the ones on exhibition but were fundamentally the same concept, metal slugs propelled by explosive propellant.

The space stations had carried on of course but most of their efforts had been to develop materials and technologies that would allow them to survive without risking contact with Earth. The metal-ceramic alloys were a good example. The orbital stations had started developing them as a means of stretching out scarce metal supplies; only later had their unique capabilities been understood and exploited.

“Hey Tony, look at this. I never knew there were bombers before the B-36.” Soo was standing before a display about another bomber, the B-29. Williams shook his head, that was another problem with having Wolfen around, their education was patchy. When they started to learn about something new, they hurled themselves into the subject but then their capriciousness cut in and they got bored and gave up on it. It didn’t surprise Williams in the slightest that Soo had never heard of the B-29. Her apartment on Earth was crowded with the remains of hobbies she’d taken up and then dropped when they started to bore her.

“Yelina, there had to be something from B-1 to B-35 you know.”

“There aren’t any DSBs before the B-36.” Soo’s reply had the annoyingly conceited female ‘that proves it, doesn’t it?’ tone that set Williams teeth on edge.

“The DSB-36 was numbered in honor of the B-36. The B-36 was SAC’s first intercontinental bomber, now the DSB-36 is our first interstellar one. So we’re starting a new history.” How much so was only just beginning to be obvious. The original clue had come a few years before the descent into madness had lead to the Dark Ages. SAC had launched a series of unmanned probes to explore the asteroid belt then Jupiter, Saturn and the outer planets. The first couple had done well, they’d sent back imagery that was breathtaking in its detail and beauty. Then, one of the probes had gone wrong. It had been deflected from its course. Something had changed both its speed and its direction. That something, SAC had decided, was worth exploring. Evaluating the data, it appeared that the probe had accelerated and swung around a point in space. It was an inadvertent slingshot maneuver, similar to ones that SAC had used to send probes on specific courses. Using the same data, the scientists had worked out where the object that had deflected the probe had been. After some deep thought, they’d sent a recon probe to investigate.

The probe, Voyager Ten, had worked perfectly. Right up to the time it had reached its target. Then it had shown the same anomalous acceleration. Only, it hadn’t slingshotted around whatever was causing the anomaly, it had continued to accelerate until it vanished. And that, everybody had thought was that. There was a hazard, out there beyond the asteroid belt that nobody understood. With the world going to hell around and underneath them, with a desperate drive underway to get as much into space as possible and to make sure the space stations were independent of Earth, the mystery of the disappearing probe was put on a back burner. Then, when the apocalypse erupted, it was forgotten completely.

A hundred and fifty years later, the base on the dark side of the Moon was doing routine surveys with a radio telescope when it picked up very weak, very faint, very anomalous signals. It had been a job disentangling them from the background but the crew had managed it. The signals were the Voyager Ten call signs. After a lot more hard work, the radio-astronomers fixed the source position as being in the region of a star called gamma-Draconis. It was 148 light years away. The interesting question was, how long had the probe there? A search through the signals reception records showed that its trace had been picked up - but ignored - two years earlier. The implication was that, somehow, Voyager Ten had reached its present position at approximately the same time as it had vanished from the solar system. That was, of course, also rather interesting. Fascinating enough to put SAC back in the exploring business - and putting SAC back into the exploring business was why the DSB-36 had been designed.

“Hey, Tony, come look at this!” Soo had become bored with the pictures of B-29s and found the replica of Texan Lady’s cockpit. It was larger than she’d expected, on three decks. She’d recognized the equivalent of her own crew station on Showgirl and slid into the seat, running her fingers over the archaic switches. “Those people didn’t really understand how to lay things out did they? These instruments are all over the place. It must have taken the crews months to learn how to use them.”

Williams was already up the steps into the cockpit at the top. The pilot’s station had only the vaguest similarity to the array of electronic displays and touch-screen controls he had on Showgirl. Soo was right, it must have taken years to learn how to manage them all. Behind and below him, Soo was running expert fingers over the engineering panels. “Hey, Tony, Do you think He was ever on Texan Lady?”

“Don’t see why not. They say He flew on every SAC aircraft at least once. Did you see there’s a display on His life over the other side? Even has some old pictures of Him.” Even speaking casually, the capital H was very distinct in William’s voice. It was time for them to pay their respects to the late General, former President, and (some said) Saint Curtis E. LeMay.

The Flying High Bar and Grill, Main Drag, Patterson, Ohio.

The prospect of a longish exploration trip had been a good enough excuse to stop for a decent meal before leaving. The ration packs on Showgirl were about as good as any food that had to be kept for days or weeks could be. Which is to say, adequate and healthy but boring. In orbit, they had fresh food shuttled up to them but once they set out, they were on their own. And, when they went down a plughole, they were as profoundly on their own as it was possible to be. That was why the DSBs went in so heavily armed; SAC had never found anything hostile on the other side but there was always a first time and the DSB-36s were expected to fight their way out if necessary. And they’d have fighters waiting for them on the friendly side if something tried to follow them back through.

Williams finished the rest of his juice, they were within 24 hours of scheduled take-off now and that meant no drinking alcohol. Soo had iced water since she found fruit juice unpleasantly sweet. Raw, freshly-squeezed lemon juice was OK, but the preserved juice served in bars and restaurants was too sickly. She saw Williams had finished and downed what was left of her glass. It was time to head back to base. Outside the restaurant, it had started to drizzle a fine, soft rain that made everything damp without getting them really wet. The clouds had hidden the stars, Williams couldn’t see it but Soo could make out the patch of light where the moon was hidden behind a bank. It was quite beautiful to her, the way the moving clouds rippled the pearly grayness of the moonlight.

Another couple was ahead of them, waiting for the next available taxi. One pulled in and the man turned. As he did so, Soo saw the ‘Make Love not War” and ‘Arms are for Hugging’ badges on his coat. Soo stared at him and moved, wolf-like, into his way. Pacifists were entitled to their opinions but the price they paid for their beliefs was a steep one. They were expected to practice what they preached, to back down from confrontations, to take a second place to citizens. Soo remembered from her history lessons that before the Dark Ages rioters claiming to be ‘Peace Activists’ had staged riots that paralyzed whole cities. She’d never understood how that could be reconciled with their claimed pacifist beliefs. Nor could most people these days. Somebody could claim to be a pacifist, they could preach their creed, stand for election, wear their badges. But, they’d better follow through on their beliefs and if they raised their hands to another person, a court would judge that whatever happened afterwards would be their fault and their responsibility.

The man started to protest but saw the slow smile of anticipation spreading over Soo’s face and quickly backed down. Williams opened the cab door for her and she slid in with a quick smile of thanks. As the cab pulled away from the stand, she glanced at the couple still standing in the rain. They stared back, their faces a mixture of resentment and resignation. “SAC Base please. Gate Eight.”

The taxi driver nodded and set the meter running. “You two from the same bomber?” It wasn’t that long a trip but being talkative was apparently an occupational requirement for taxi drivers.

“Sure thing. Showgirl.”

“Hey, my boy, he’d got a trading card with her nose art. Were you on the beta-Corvi flight? His card has the crew names from that on it.”

“Sure were. Williams and Soo. Here, give your boy this.” Williams reached into his pocket and pulled out a Showgirl crew patch. It was an old, an ancient, SAC tradition, every off-base officer carried a supply of patches for deserving kids. An old Jesuit had once said that catch a child young and you had them for life. It was true, a patch given to a youngster as likely as not meant SAC got a recruit a decade later. Outside, the lights reflected through the haze of the mist and on the damp road surface.

“Thanks Lieutenant, he’ll be thrilled. You’re going up topside again aren’t you?”

“Sure, tomorrow, don't know where yet though.”

“Thought so. Wife and I, we’re planning to take a trip up next year. Going to Luna City for a week on a package deal. We thought of emigrating out completely but we thought we’d wait a few years, see what planets open up. Here you are Lieutenants. That’ll be three-fifty. Good luck and Fly High.”

[Calder]

Chapter 3
Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Alpha Eridani, Exit 8, Interstellar 80

“Approaching Exit Eight-Beta now Sir.” Williams was watching the navigation display intently. The four market buoys that orbited the portal were clearly visible on the radar screen, giving Showgirl the data her computers needed. He reached out, made a small adjustment and the familiar profile of Exit Eight was superimposed on the navigation display. Showgirl’s electronics would take it from here. Since this portal was plotted and thoroughly mapped, she had the course and desired entry speed in her memory banks. That made handling the entry routine, which was, of course, the whole point. Williams looked out of the canopy in front of him. If he looked carefully, if he knew what to look for, he could see the portal. Things looked slightly wrong around it, slightly strange but an observer would only see what was wrong if he already knew what to look for. That was the catch, one had to know what to look for. If somebody knew there was something strange out there, that person could see it. If he didn’t, he couldn’t. That’s why the portals had escaped detection for so long; people had been looking straight at them but not known what they were seeing.

It had been a routine run up. Slowly the Interstellar system was been mapped and the routes established. Showgirl and Belladonna had taken off from Earth and joined Interstellar 80 at Exit Six. That had taken them to Gamma Draconis where they had made a short normal-space hop to Exit Seven. Then, they had made that hop and had left Exit 7 in Alpha Eridani two days ago. Three days to travel 300 light years. The portal system was certainly the easy way to travel. After they’d arrived in Eridani, they’d picked up the navigational beacon for Exit Eight almost immediately. That wasn’t surprising, Interstellar 80 was a well-established route, the exits relatively close together. That was one of the strange things about the plugholes, they were usually grouped fairly close together. Nobody knew why, instinct suggested they should be evenly spread across the star system but that wasn’t the case. They tended to be clustered, usually in batches just outside the mid-system asteroid belt. It was just under two and a half million miles from Exit Seven to Exit Eight and it had been a smooth, uneventful ride. Over on the defensive systems position, Yelina Soo was bored.

This particular clutch had over a dozen plugholes but only five of them lead anywhere useful and thus deserved the title of portal. One popped up elsewhere in the Alpha Eridani system, two more were branch Interstellars. Interstellar 881 lead to Tau Ceti, Interstellar 882 to Alpha Pegasi. The fourth, Exit Eight Charlie, was the continuation of Interstellar 80 to Beta Herculis. The fifth was the one they had arrived from, Eight-Alpha this side, Seven-Charlie, Alpha-Eridani side. The rest just lead to somewhere in the void of space, far from any stars and of no apparent use. That might change, one day, but at the moment only portals that lead directly from one star system to another were valuable. There was only one problem with that. The only way to find out where a portal went to was to dive into it and see.

Williams felt Showgirl start to shake as her main engines cut in reverse thrust. It had always amused him how the old science fiction shows had shown spacecraft going everywhere under power. In real space, constant power application meant constant acceleration. Holding speed meant running the engines at bare minimum, just enough to provide hotel load power. The oldsters got deceleration wrong as well. Slowing Showgirl down required as much reverse thrust as it had taken ahead power to get her up to speed in the first place. That was what she was doing now, applying reverse thrust and slowing down so she was moving as slowly as possible when she hit the perimeter of the portal. Then, he felt a tug and saw Showgirl starting to accelerate again.

“Entering Exit Eight-Beta now Sir. Switching to Interstellar 882.” Showgirl was accelerating fast, the gravity gradient into this portal was fairly sharp. Williams could feel the acceleration pressing him back into his seat as they rode the ever-increasing gradient downwards. Then, without any fanfare or fuss, the constellations of stars changed and they were in Alpha Pegasi. Showgirl started to slow down as she climbed the gravity gradient the other side of the portal. That was another thing about them, as far as was known, all portals were symmetrical. As was this one, by the time Showgirl reached the orbit of the marker buoys, she was moving at the same speed she had set when she went in. Perfectly symmetrical - and perfectly efficient. If there was an energy loss when transiting a portal, nobody had ever managed to measure it.

“Transit completed Captain. We are safely in Alpha Pegasi, Exit One on Interstellar 882.”

“Thank you Tony. Showgirl, that was an excellent transit. Well done.”

“Thanks, boss. Do I get a bonus?”

“I should think so. In fact, you’ll get twice as much as the rest of us.” There was a mutinous mumbling noise on the ship’s speakers. Captain Newman shook his head. “Right people. We have to make rendezvous in less than five hours. You know what the Navy’s like on timing. Then, we start to look at the plugholes around here and see where they go.”

Williams stretched slightly and looked around the new system. Exit One on Eight-Eight-Two was a dead end at the moment. There were three plugholes in this particular cluster. Perhaps one of them lead somewhere interesting and Eight-Eight-Two would become something more than a minor spur route and Exit One would suddenly become One-Alpha and One-Beta. He looked outside again, saw nothing. So he decided to cheat and look at the radar display. He didn’t get the chance.

“There she is Tony!” Soo’s call was triumphant. She’d spotted their rendezvous, a dark shadow against the stars, even distance not able to hide its looming bulk. Williams sighed to himself, she’d beaten him to the spot again. He’d accepted that Wolfen did have better vision that traditional. That didn't stop it being annoying sometimes.

On Board CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Alpha Pegasi System.

“YOU, you horrible little DEMOCRAT. What do you think you are doing?”

“Swabbing the deck Senior Chief?”

“Not like that you’re not. WRING THAT MOP OUT. Make sure it’s wet enough to pick up dirt and dust and no more. The way you’re slopping water about, some poor sailorman is going to come down this gangway and slip ass over teakettle and break his neck. And YOU’LL have to write to his poor grieving mother about how your sloppy DEMOCRAT ways killed her beloved only son. Are you looking forward to telling a grieving mother that you slaughtered the light of her life?”

“No, Senior Chief.”

“Then swab the deck by the book. Mop barely damp so the water doesn’t pool or float around. Look, son, safety is only part of it. We’re in low gravity here, the spin on the ship gives us a substitute for gravity but doesn’t replace it. Loose water floating around can get places it shouldn’t and that’s not good. Now you’re wondering why we swab the decks at all if it’s so risky aren’t you?”

“Yes Senior Chief.”

“This ship is a closed system, whatever comes in here stays here. We’re not like the wet navy ships. They can change the air, change the water and throw anything they don’t want over the side. We can’t. Our air is recycled, our water is recycled, everything goes around and around. The filters and precipitators catch most of the dirt and garbage but not all of it. The crap and crud builds up a little bit more with every cycle so we have to clean up. If we don’t, it gets into everything and soon the ship will stink like a DEMOCRAT’s armpit.” The seaman still looked unhappy. The Senior Chief reached into his memory and pulled up the background on this particular sailor. As he’d thought, born downside.

“You think you got this job because you were born down on Earth, not on the space stations or in the colonies, right? That the Navy discriminates in favor of upsiders, against downsiders. Well, there’s a little truth in that but not much. The kids who come from the space stations know how critical it is to keep things clean all of the time. It’s hammered into them right from the time they can first crawl. Upside, it’s almost a capital offense to let an area on a station get dirty. They know how important this job is so they do it without thinking. Colonies like the Moon and Mars, they’re the same. Downsiders have to be taught and that’s what your learning now. When the kids on the surface colonies get old enough to join, they’ll have to be taught as well.

“Right now, we’re hove-to, waiting for the zoomies from SAC to arrive. No threat anywhere near here so the combat crews are stood down. We’re not flying missions so the flight deck crews are off-duty as well. Until the zoomies turn up we’re just living here. You want to live in a stinking ship, seaman?”

“No Senior Chief.”

“Nor do I. That makes your job pretty damn important right now doesn’t it?” The seaman nodded. “ So DO IT RIGHT not like some lazy good-for-nothing DEMOCRAT.”

The seaman wrung out his mop and started to swab the steel deck. Kids today had it easy, the Senior Chief thought, they should try holystoning a wooden deck sometime.

Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Alpha Eridani, Alpha Pegasi System.

They’d felt the slight tug as the plughole had reached out to grab them and Showgirl had responded with enough reverse thrust to get them clear of the gravity anomaly. Now, they were poised on its edge. Belladonna was sitting further back, her instruments recording everything that was happening. That was so that, if Showgirl vanished without trace, there would be some record of what happened and why. Nobody could predict where a plughole went or how far away the other side would be. It wasn’t even that certain every plughole had another side. It was, at least theoretically, possible that some lead “out” into nowhere, into non-existence.

It could also lead right into a pack of hostiles. That had never happened, as far as anybody knew, humans were the only intelligent life around but humanity’s knowledge of space was very limited. A dozen star systems or so. The DSB-36 could make the transit into a system and find itself the target of, anything. If so, it would run back through the portal and try to warn its friends. That was why Shiloh and Belladonna were in attendance. If the hostiles followed the DSB-36 back though, they were the force on hand to contain the situation.

But, that was all theoretical and lay in the future, if ever. The first job was to map the plughole from this side. Plot its gravity gradient and the size of its aperture. Yelina Soo had the first of their probes ready for launch. Showgirl’s bomb bay was open and the probe was extended, ready to go. The screens at her work station were set up to display the results. Captain Newman gave her a nod and she fired the probe, watching the brief flare as it departed in front of them. Her instruments were recording its acceleration as the gravity effects of the plughole took hold. The two critical parts of information were how fact that probe accelerated and when it would suddenly vanish. The first told them how steep the gravity gradient was. That determined how accessible the plughole would be. The steepest gradients were so destructive that they prevented the plughole from ever being used. No ship was strong enough to take the effects and they’d be pulled apart if they tried. The ideal was a shallow, gentle gradient; even the relatively flimsy merchant ships could use those.

The other piece of data, when the probe vanished, would give them an indication of how big the anomaly at the bottom of the plughole was. A ship could only use a portal if it was small enough to fit within that anomaly. Too big, and some parts would transit the portal, the rest would be left behind - only to be sucked through later. In other words, the ship would be torn apart. On Soo’s screen, the results from the first probe were coming up. Acceleration was recorded as an inverse graph, acceleration against distance a green line leading to an sharp conclusion. Not that meaningful on its own.

“We have our first line on the plughole sir. Gravity gradient is moderate, level three no more than that. Even the Navy pukes can manage that.” Newman nodded, making a mental note to rebuke Soo later about her choice of words. Wolfen weren’t known for inherent tact but it was possible to make them simulate it.

An hour later, Showgirl had moved to a new position and fired a second probe. Its results had been recorded and the simple graph on Soo’s screen was replaced by a three-dimensional representation of the plughole. Very fuzzy and indistinct since the computers only had two sets of data to work with, but not too bad. And this plughole looked promising. Relatively gentle gradients and a wide aperture at the bottom. Six more hours and six probes later, the picture was clear. If this particular plughole led anywhere, it was going to be a very useful one, its benign gradients and inviting aperture making it accessible to merchant ships as well as the Navy warships and SAC’s bombers. Now if the theory held good, the plughole would be the same the other side and there would be a ring of eight probes marking the perimeter of its effects. Anything different and a lot of presumptions would get thrown out of the window.

In Showgirl’s command seat, New man took a deep breath. Time to dive in the deep end, quite literally. “Communications, call Admiral Theodore on Shiloh, tell him we are going in.”

Showgirl started to edge forward, at first slowly, then with increasing speed as the gravity well took hold. The ride was less violent than the I-80 Exit Eight-Beta transit that had brought them to Alpha Pegasi but the knowledge they were diving into an unknown, unmapped transit that could potentially lead to anything made it seem to take longer and be rougher. Nobody had ever worked out a way of predicting where a transit would lead or how long the jump would be. The shortest on record was just under a hundred thousand miles. That had caused a little embarrassment; two SAC bombers had been exploring a cluster of three plugholes in Gamma Draconis. The lead ship had dived into one and popped up at one of the others. Oddly, that cluster, dead end as it was, one was one the more valuable ones; it made a perfect training ground for new crews. At the other end of the scale, the longest transit so far achieved was 300 light years. Some people had theorized that the gravity gradient leading into a portal was an indicator of how long the transit was. Only, experience had shown there was no correlation. The same applied to the theory that the size of the aperture was inversely proportional to the length of the transit. That theory had also caved in as navigation experience had grown.

The truth was nobody knew where a transit could lead and the most popular theory was that nobody could. That it was an entirely random effect, that the lengths of transits followed a bell-curve distribution and humanity simply didn’t have enough points of data to determine the shape of that bell curve. It was possible that some transits may be so long that they would take the user to a point incomprehensibly far away from their starting point. On the other hand, a crew might find the Holy Grail, a transit to Alpha Centauri. It was strangely ironic that even though the portals allowed humans to explore space, they also severely restricted the destinations to which humans could go. Even though Alpha Centauri was humanity’s closest neighbor, no exploration crew had ever found a transit that lead there. Until one was found, Sol’s nearest neighbor was unreachably far away.

Suddenly, without fuss, the starscape around them changed. “We’re through. Stellar Astronomy, where the hell are we?” Newman asked the first, over-ridingly important question. The stellar astronomy crew amidships would be checking out the stars in the neighborhood, trying to find which one was the parent of the system they were in, if of course, they were in a system at all, and identify it by means of its stellar spectrum. If that was on record, identification would be quick and easy, if it was not, if there was no system star, then the crew would be finding stars they could recognize and triangulating to determine their position. With that process in hand, Newman asked the second most important question “Williams, is anybody shooting at us?”

Williams scanned the screens and the threat board. “No Sir, we’re clear. Nothing in range.”

“Sir, we’re in a system.”

“Why Soo?”

“I can see plugholes sir. Four at least excluding the one we came in on, perhaps more.” Newman grinned. That was very good. A group of plugholes were confirmation of a system; the ones that occurred in deep space never had companions.

“We have our position Sir.” That was Astronomy. Newman got even happier, a response that fast indicated a positive read on a known star.

“Don’t keep us all hanging Astronomy, where are we?”

“18 Scorpii Sir. We hit gold. The star is known as Sol’s Twin, it was identified centuries ago as being one of the most likely for the evolution of intelligent life. It was a prime target back in the SETI days and the stations have kept an eye on it ever since. We’ve already spotted two gas giants including one with rings, just like Saturn. Looks like the planetary system here is a close analogue of Sol’s.”

“Thank you Astronomy and well done. Prepare to shut up shop, we’ll jump back and tell everybody what we’ve found. Then we’ll come back with some friends and look around a bit more.

Command Bridge, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Alpha Pegasi System.

Admiral Theodore paced his bridge anxiously. It was always a strain waiting for one of SAC’s bombers to come back though a portal. Always, they came drifting through, sometimes with cheery words of a portal to a useful system or a new link to an already-known one. Sometimes, the dull, depression of a portal that lead nowhere, to a useless point in the void of space. Never had one come back, running for its life and depending on its support ships to take on an overwhelming force behind it.

The words running through the Admiral’s mind were, There’s always a first time.”

“We have them sir. No threats detected. Showgirl reports Interstellar 882 Exit One-Beta.” A cheer erupted around the bridge. The designation indicated that the portal, so promising in its configuration, lead to somewhere useful. “Say again sir, Interstellar 882 Exit One-Beta leads to 18 Scorpii. Preliminary survey results show 18 Scorpii has numerous additional plugholes and encouraging signs of a planetary system. Nothing hostile detected.”

Theodore felt a weight lift of his mind. “Signal to Showgirl ‘Beta-Zulu’. That portal is large enough to take us I assume?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then recover our fighters and follow Showgirl and Belladonna through.” It was a glorious thing, Theodore thought. The way space was constructed made warship commanders their own masters again. Back in the days of sail his ancestors had been virtually their own men once they sailed out of sight of land. Communication with home was slow and unreliable. Then, radio and datalinks had evolved and taken that independence away. At last it had come back, signals still traveled point-to-point with the speed of light but travel by portals was much, much faster than that. The only way to communicate with Earth, 150 light years away, was to go there. That meant warship commanders had to make their own decisions and carry their own responsibilities again.

Outside, Showgirl and Belladonna were already diving into One-Beta. Showgirl in the lead as befitted her role as the discoverer of a new link in the Interstellar highways. Then, Shiloh started to turn as her fighters completed landing and she lined up on the portal for her own transit to 18 Scorpii.

[Calder]

Chapter 4
Main Conference Room, White House, Washington DC

There was a World Government, it was just that the world didn’t realize it. Nor, in point of fact, did the World Government. The people who were part of that government just saw themselves as being the most effective method by which problems got solved, as expeditiously as possible, whenever they turned up. Preferably before anybody else realized they were problems, and the rest of the time everything else was left to bubble along nicely. The group meeting in this room had evolved on the basis that the more people involved in making a decision, the longer that decision took and the less satisfactory the result. If the organization was large enough, the only decisions that were ever reached were years out of date and failed completely to address the problem.

In one sense, the Government was a descendent of pre-Dark Ages American and Russian practice. Even back then, the relationship had been so close that President Reagan had set up a system by which representatives of each government sat in on the other’s meetings so that their opinions and suggestions could be made directly rather than filtered through layers of administration. Later, when the world was fighting to survive the initial onslaught of the Dark Ages, the system had been expanded to include representatives of the Triple Alliance. Despite its faults, it had worked well and, as a result, that was the system that prevailed now. On its face at least. Reality was a little different.

The difference was something that had been inherited from the Triple Alliance. That group had originally been just what its name suggested, an alliance but it had grown and evolved into a weakly-linked federation. The individual governments still made their own “decisions” and negotiated issues between them but in reality, a small group of administrators had discussed matters in advance and made their own judgments. The deliberations of government and the proceedings of negotiations were really just the public face on issues that had already been settled. That also had worked well and was also part of the system in place. The nine principles in this room, three Americans, three Russians, three Triple Alliance, considered matters and made their decisions. They then took them back to their respective governments to be enacted. The respective governments still made the decisions but they were now informed decisions, made in the knowledge of what everybody who mattered regarded as acceptable. They didn't have to guess whether their offers or negotiations would be acceptable, they knew. It wasn’t that formal of course, the whole system ran on the basis of being informal and private. Because these meetings were private and word of the deliberations never got out, there was no grandstanding for the public. Each decision reflected what the interests of the world as a whole demanded but also what the individual governments would accept. It might not be a perfect system but it worked and, to a world that was still stunned by the horrors of the Dark Ages, that was what was important.

Of course, the rest of the world, the parts not sitting at this table, were in a less fortunate position. They didn’t have a direct voice here, one of the three who did spoke for them. Those smaller states had to select one of the big three to represent them or, as Lillith had once put it “Pick who would get to beat hell out of them if they stepped out of line.” If a nation ever got into that position, it was faced with a choice of three quite distinct styles. The Americans would nuke first, keep nuking, nuke again, toss a few more for good luck then ask questions. The Russians would invade, burn the villages, salt the fields, then create a desolation that made the term “scorched earth” sound positively bucolic and not bother with the questions. The Triple Alliance would ‘do nothing’ but the effects of their ‘doing nothing’ were so dire most people would prefer to be nuked and/or invaded. Its critics described the system as ‘rule by terror’ but it wasn’t really. It was a system that solved disputes by giving everybody a result they could live with instead of half getting what they wanted and the other half left to plot their revenge. But then, similar claims of ‘rule by terror’ had been made by the terminally bewildered about the Pax Americana back before the Dark Ages. That hadn’t been a ‘rule by terror’ either. If it had been, the Seer reflected, between four and five billion people might not have died when the Dark Ages struck.

Could the Dark Ages have been prevented? That question had kept him awake sometimes. He and his fellow Daimones had tried to prevent what they foresaw. When they realized its inevitability, they’d done what they could to save what could be saved and, he thought with a certain measure of pride, we did pretty damned well. But if we’d started earlier? If we’d done more sooner? That was the trouble with living so long, it brought with it memories of options and alternatives that multiplied with each passing decade and century. If we’d destroyed the Caliphate back in ’65 or in ‘72, as we came so close to doing, would that have saved humanity from the Dark Ages? Or would another power have risen to take its place just as the Caliphate had arisen to replace Nazi Germany? Or as the Sultanate had risen to replace the Caliphate when the Middle Eastern power had died in a welter of blood, plague and nuclear fire?

The meeting was discussing food production at the moment, his own skills weren’t needed. Looking around, there were distinct styles of government represented. The American representatives here were short-livers with Daimones providing advice and assistance. It wasn’t a formalized arrangement but in America, short-livers were elected to political positions and formed the government but running the government was done by the Contractors under contract. The Contractors were commercial companies; if they didn't run the departments efficiently, they went bankrupt. As the short-livers now knew, the companies in question were largely owned by Daimones. It was the old checks and balances thing. Short-livers could make decisions but not execute them. Daimones could execute decisions but not make them. Once again, that phrase, it might not be elegant or perfect but it worked. The Triple Alliance was different, it had a mixture of Daimones and short-livers at all levels. That was Suriyothai’s influence, the Seer thought. She’d shown that Daimones and humans could work together efficiently, had done so in the most convincing way possible. By doing it for centuries without anybody being aware of the fact. She’d dropped the identity of ‘Ambassador-Plenipotentiary’ although she still used the title and had discarded the pretense of shifting power from mother to daughter. Oddly, she’d had more difficulty persuading people not to use her title of Princess once they’d found out about it. After all, as she’d pointed out, the Royal family she’d been a Princess of had been extinct for fourteen hundred years. Except for her of course.

Indonesia, that was the current issue. Indonesia, the only part of the Triple Alliance territory to get nuked. Thoroughly nuked, during the second phase of the wars that had started the Dark Ages. When the Caliphate had gone down in a nuclear holocaust, Jamyaat Islamiyah had risen in revolt, trying to establish its own Islamic fundamentalist regime based around Indonesia. The Sultanate was what the everybody else had called it; the rebels had used the title Caliphate and claimed to be the successors to the glowing remnants of the Middle Eastern plague pit. Whatever the name, the Sultanate had the one thing the Caliphate had lacked, people. Indonesia had been the largest Moslem country on earth. Not for long, SAC’s bombers had seen to that. JI had surged out, hitting a sick and dying world with more waves of pestilence and a human tide of martyrs. Only to be sent reeling back under the lash of nuclear fire.

Indonesia had been the Islamic world’s most populous country. Now, it was empty and slowly, from the few surviving bridgeheads, teams were pushing out to recover the land. Just as teams had once pushed out from the few surviving bridgeheads in Germany to reclaim a burned and blackened land. It was taking time to rehabilitate the land and recreate a viable community. Perhaps it was only just that Germany, the first country to feel the wrath of a nuclear attack had taken the lead in bringing Indonesia back from the dead. Just as the farms of agricultural, pastoral Germany, too dispersed and distributed to be vulnerable to plague, had fed Europe during the first years of the Dark Ages. Another rich irony. The Big One had made Germany what it was, and a hundred years later what Germany had become saved Europe from starvation.

“And now for some cheerful news - I think.” President Mantoya looked around the room. “We have been advised that the team exploring the portals in Alpha Pegasi have found a very favorably configured link, taking us through to 18 Scorpii. Apparently this is a sun that is almost a twin of our own and the exploration units are hopeful that we will find at least one, possibly two, habitable planets there. In order for things to go smoothly, I believe we should start preparing for a colonization mission in advance. That way we will be properly placed to exploit this opportunity, if it is indeed an opportunity. Prime Minister, do you think the time is right to get some of your Australians ready to move?”

Prime Minister Farncomb nodded. “We have a settler team ready to go. They’ve had the basic training, they just need the specialized instructions for the specific world they’ll be going to. Your SEALs will be providing that I assume?”

Mantoya nodded. If there was indeed a habitable world there, the exploration process was well-established. First massive reconnaissance from satellites and aircraft. They’d map the planet, take samples, learn as much as they could without making contact. Then, SEALs would be inserted to do the close-up inspections and find the hazards, if necessary the hard way. If the planet was safe for occupation. Or, to be more accurate, if the dangers were acceptable, the Marines would land and establish a base area. Once that was secure, the first groups of settlers would go in. They were invariably be Australians, experience on earlier planets had shown that they were by far the best at making an initial settlement. The Australians are what Americans had been when we first came to the “New World” theSeer though, a bit sadly, Pioneers. They still had it, Americans didn’t. They were too used to their comfort and luxuries. The quiet joke was that the Australians could have a farm up and running while the Americans were still trying to find where to plug the air conditioning in. There was a reason why the capitals of the first few colonized worlds had been named Sydney, Melbourne, Darwin, Perth and others of that ilk.

“One question.” Suriyothai spoke quietly as usual. “If this new star is so like ours, is it possible that any habitable planets it has will already have evolved life of its own? Intelligent life? And if it has, what do we do then?”

There was a long pause while people thought. That was another advantage of small, private meetings to decide policy. People would take time to think. Eventually, even in a private meeting, somebody had to say the obvious.

“We need to have a policy.”

“The Prime Directive?” President Mantoya’s voice was scornful. Then he shook his head. “My apologies, but how can we have a policy on something we cannot define in advance? There are far too many variables to consider. If people are primitive but showing healthy development, do we help them? Or leave them alone? If they are about to destroy themselves, as we so nearly did, do we stop them, or leave them alone?”

Everybody in the room nodded in agreement. This was a question that had been raised before, many times, and there had never been a consensus answer. As the American President had said, too many variables.

“Seer, what is the Daimones viewpoint on this? Have the centuries of experience your people accumulated given you any insights that may help us to come to an answer here.”

“Mister President, at the moment we cannot answer a question we do not know exists. I honestly do not think we can have a general policy for this issue, we can only take each situation as it comes and treat each on its own merits. That does mean we must take even more care with our initial scanning of a planet; we must know what is down there before we send people in. And, one other thing we should always bear in mind. One day, it’s mathematically certain, we will encounter a people more advanced on us. We must bear in mind that how they treat us may very well be decided by how we treated others when we were the advanced ones.”

Again there was silence. That was a thought that had been in the back of people’s mind ever since human explorers had realized the stars were within reach after all. What would happen when humanity met its first non-human intelligence?

On Board CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, 18 Scorpii System.

Shiloh and her screen were on their own now, left with the job of exploring this system and finding out what humans faced here. The two SAC bombers had stayed for a few hours, until it was reasonably certain there was no immediate, pressing, overwhelming threat. Then they had pulled back and headed out for home. Partly to carry the word of a promising new system, partly to resupply and refuel. There was no immediate, overwhelming threat in this system. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a subtle , subversive one that nobody had spotted. Yet.

First job was to scour the system for electronic emissions. Any advanced spacecraft or weapon was overwhelmingly likely to depend on electronics for a large part of its operations. Unless carefully shielded, electronic equipment emitted stray signals. Slight, elusive but there and they could be detected if one looked hard enough. That was what some of Shiloh’s electronic warfare birds were doing now. They were on patrol paths that looped through 18 Scorpii’s planetary disk, looking for any hint of electronic emissions. Others had an easier and potentially much more rewarding job. If there was a civilization out there, or at least a community of intelligent beings, they would have some form of communications system. Probably radio and its derivatives. They also were emitters and could be detected. They would be proof positive that there was another intelligent species out in the blackness of space.

Of course, every officer in the fleet and most of the enlisted could spot the ghastly flaw in the theory. If a civilization was advanced enough it might not use electronics for its systems or communicate using that technology. It might use something humans were completely unaware of. That was fruitless speculation of course; in the final analysis people could only look for what they knew about. If there was something else out there, they’d find out about it sooner or later and then they could look for it.

“Still silent Sir.” Captain Mahan looked up from the terminals displaying the latest reports from the scout craft. They were as negative now as they’d been for hours. This was the boring part of planetary exploration, scanning the system as a whole for any sign it was occupied . Boring because every system so far investigated had been empty, not necessarily lifeless but devoid of intelligent life, of civilizations. 18 Scorpii was as null as all the others despite its similarity to Sol.

Mahan looked at the planet roster. Achingly similar to Sol. A small planet close in, too hot to use with present technology. Another oven of a planet then one that had the potential to be earthlike. Right position to be habitable, the temperatures should be acceptable even though 18 Scorpii ran hotter than Sol. Then, outside that, another planet that could, just, if they were lucky be habitable as well. Even if they were not, Mars Base had taught humans how to live in the likely conditions of the fourth planet. Mid-system was a massive asteroid belt. If it was like that of Sol and the other systems they’d explored, it would be incredibly rich in mineral resources, enough metal ores to keep an industry happy. Other recon craft were checking that out now. Then, outside the asteroid belt were the gas giants. Bigger that those of the Sol system but fundamentally similar. If nothing else they were refueling stations and their prolific families of moons offered more possibilities of useful worlds to settle.

“I wish we had a life signs detector.” Mahan spoke a little derisively. All the science fiction shows had something of the sort, some strange piece of equipment that would instantly detect all the life forms on a given planet and even, given a suitably cooperative scriptwriter, pick out the heroes just in time to rescue them from certain death. The problem was that nothing of the sort existed. Every so often, somebody would come up with one that worked on a strange exotic principle that the inventors had just discovered but nobody else appeared able to detect. They’d set up a spectacular demonstration, cause much excitement, then scientists and engineers would sit down, work out a proper, controlled experiment and the discredited “inventors” would slink away, cursing the “hide-bound reactionaries” that were too set in their ways to understand the marvels they’d been shown. It wasn’t even as if the ideas were original. Some of them even used a variant of dowsing as a search method. It didn’t seem to matter that the technique had been discredited for centuries, right up there with psychics, astrology and all the other pseudo-sciences. Its believers still refused to accept it and kept insisting they be allowed to waste the navy’s time by trying to prove their pet beliefs really existed.

So, without a magical black box, they were having to do it the hard way. Carefully, thoroughly and methodically. It was better like that, Mahan thought. Too many black boxes, too many easy ways of doing things and people got lazy. They overlooked the obvious, assumed that “the box doesn’t show it” meant “it isn’t there”. As far as Shiloh and her aerospace group could determine, the system was silent. However, they’d reached that opinion by exhaustive, methodical search. So, that had allowed them to have a closer look at the third planet out. 18 Scorpii Three. No doubt it would have a better name sooner or later if it really was useful.

The next part of the process was to have a look at it from a distance, learn as much as could be learned and map it as thoroughly as could be done. Try again to see if there was intelligent life down there. If there was, then the expedition would back off fast, before they could be seen, get a message back home and then wait for a decision on what to do. If there was no intelligence down there, then the SEAL teams would be sent in. They didn’t have a black box to tell them everything they needed to know either. They would also do things the hard, methodical, slow way. Collect samples, look, take pictures, check everything that moved and everything that didn’t. The SEALs were perfect for the job with their eerie way of going places and doing things without being seen. Despite those abilities, once the SEALs went down to the planet, they, the planet and the ships orbiting above it would be quarantined until it was certain there was no danger from the surface. Humans had had enough of their own plagues, the last thing they wanted was one from another planet.

“Recommend we close on the inner planets Sir. There’s nothing out here. Electronically, this system is as dead as all the others. Let’s have a close look at Three and Four.”

Theodore nodded agreement. “Make it so. Advise Des Moines and Smolensk”

Mahan made the transmission then translated the orders into the necessary procedures. Across space, the Captains of the two screening ships would be doing the same, while the prowling reconnaissance birds would be getting the word that their home was on the move. Accelerating at a rate that, given time, would allow for the ships to build up speeds that could move them form one part of the system to another in a matter of hours or, at worst, days. Mahan looked down, to the stars that were passing under his feet. They weren’t really rotating around the ship of course, it was Shiloh spinning on her axis to generate a semblance of gravity that caused the apparent movement. To her crew, what seemed like “down” was actually “out” while “up” was “in”, towards the center of the ship where the flight deck was situated. It was to the hangar deck, wrapped around the flight deck that his next string of orders were directed. It was time to start getting the photo-reconnaissance birds readied for flight.

[Calder]

Chapter 5
Buckshot Settlement, Planet Mossberg, 18 Scorpii System.

The dominant life form on Planet Mossberg was a bipedal animal that walked erect on two of its four limbs. The other pair it used for grasping and manipulating objects. It had two eyes, very large, that appeared to dominate more than half its facial area. Directly beneath them was a large cylindrical nose, ending in a honeycomb. The creature was green, or at least it appeared to be. In fact, close examination might suggest that green was something of an over-simplification. The creature's skin was a swirling mass of greens, grays and browns. Ideally suited to blending in with foliage. Not, however, very well suited to the bleak and desolate Mossberg landscape. It might have been better suited to the surface conditions once but those conditions didn't exist any more. Not that it mattered because the dominant life form on Mossberg was also the only life form on Mossberg.

In any case, visual camouflage wasn't really a problem on Mossberg. The air was translucent, a fine suspension of dust providing a reasonable equivalent of fog and mist. The sun overhead was brighter and whiter than Sol, but that didn't help much. The dust was too thick and the position of the sun was marked by a brighter patch in the haze. The reduced visibility caused by the dust was a serious menace. If any member of the group strayed too far from the others, they'd be lost to sight and regaining contact could be a problem. On some planets, getting separated from the group could be fatal. Predators might close in or something as simple as a rocky ledge might turn into a fatal mantrap. The latter was a problem, Mossberg had far more than its share of broken, treacherous terrain but dangerous predators? They'd gone, along with everything else that lived.

The group closed in on its lair, an odd-looking set of cylinders resting on the ground, dimly visible through the dust-laden air. As they approached, one end of the cylinder started to open, a ramp swinging down and two doors sliding sideways. The life forms entered and the ramp retracted, the doors closed. There was another set of doors in front of them but those remained firmly closed. Instead, there was a whirring noise and a thumping as machinery started its task of isolating the inside of the lair from the outside world. The air in the small room started to thin, the translucent opacity caused by the fine suspended dust in the air fading as the suspension was drawn through the filters. The dust itself wasn't poisonous though breathing it in was unhealthy. Silicosis could be the end result of that but 'rocks in the chest' were a minor problem compared with what the rest of the contaminants in the air could do. The same filters that cleared the air of dust also started to remove large volumes of poisonous gases, nitric oxides, carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulphide and hydrogen chloride that made it too deadly to breath. Mossberg was not a hospitable planet. It had been once but not any more.

Inside the small room, a light in one corner turned from red to green. The sensors had determined the air was safe to breath at last. The life forms breathed a sigh of relief and started to peel off their heavy protective suits. Their leader rubbed his hair, damp from the hours spent in the clumsy, awkward, uncomfortable environmental protective suits. It had been a long day. Mossberg had the same rotation period as earth give or take a few minutes but it was the sheer labor of working in an environment where the air was lethal and the water acid, that caused the problem. That and the knowledge that the exploration team was stuck down there until the planet was proved to be safe.

Since nothing was left alive on it, that seemed to be a given.

The whole role of the SEAL team, though, was to take nothing for granted. They were experts at getting into places, determining what was hazardous and what was not, then living to tell the tale. It was the last bit, the living to tell the tale that was challenging. Strange planets had a habit of throwing very subversive hazards at unwary explorers. There was the carnivorous dust for example, a charming inhabitant of a planet the SEAL team had visited a couple of years before. It looked like dust, and most of the time it behaved like dust. Only, in reality it was a carnivorous algae-like colony. An unwary explorer could put his foot into the colony, just thinking it was more drifting soil. Then, the algae would secrete digestive enzymes that would melt the flesh from his bones. If he was lucky, the victim would lose his leg. If not, his skeleton would sink to the bottom of the dust pit. Worse, the algae reproduced fast, if the victim carried some into a living area, it would reproduce and start to attack anything flesh-like. Just what one wanted in a barracks room overnight.

The SEALs had found that threat, identified it and worked out ways of locating and destroying the carnivorous dust colonies. They found it glowed under ultraviolet light so every door in the human settlements on that planet had permanently-working ultraviolet detectors. They'd found that the algae was very vulnerable to earth-developed fungicides so the offensive against the dust had started in earnest. Unmanned aircraft scanned areas from above to spot the colonies, then ground teams moved in with fungicide spray to wipe them out. Humans were fighting the carnivorous dust and beating it back. As always, so far anyway, humans turned out to be the ultimate predator,

"Another day, another dollar guys. Anybody find anything interesting out there?" There was a resigned shaking of heads. Seared, blasted, burned, poisoned Mossberg was different, a dead planet that had once been living. SEAL Team Two had been searching for weeks now and found no trace of anything surviving the disaster. Half a planet away, on the site of the contra-coup, SEAL Team Three was doing the same. Most planets had some form of life, exploration in Sol's planetary family had proved that. Given a chance, life would find a way. Only, what the universe had done to Mossberg hadn't given life that chance. Nowhere close. The team trooped through the door of the airlock into the living accommodation proper. It had been landed from orbit a month before and was supplied by expendable drop-canister. Until Mossberg was proven safe, and that meant until people had lived on it for an extended period of time without dying of strange, untraceable diseases, transport was one way only. Down to the surface, not up from it.

"Mossberg's a complete bust, Jeff. There's nothing for us down here. We can't even breath here, let alone settle the place. Oxygen depletion alone will see to that. We're still reading twenty percent down?" The question had been directed at the man who was monitoring all the instrumentation sites the SEALs had set up. The division of labor was clear, the SEALs went outside, the scientists stayed inside and analyzed data. That led to some good-natured ribbing; the scientists claimed the arrangement proved who was disposable and who was not. The SEALs pointed out that it gave them first crack at the local girls.

"Twenty percent" Dr Swamphen agreed. "It's common across all of the installations, which isn't surprising of course. It's what the theoretical models predicted. There's no trace of hydrogen fluoride in the atmosphere which will give the modelers something to puzzle over but the rest of it was pretty much as they said. Poor planet. It never really stood a chance did it?"

There was a glum nodding of agreement, SEALs and scientists in agreement. Thomas reflected that morale of the SEAL team was pretty low, in fact it was about as bad as he'd ever seen. What made things worse was that 18 Scorpii had seemed such an inviting system, a prime candidate for earthlike planets. Then, when Mossberg had been located and examined it had got even better. The planet had been earthlike in size, in position. Of course it had seemed a little strange, atmospheric temperature readings had been anomalously high but that hadn't deadened the anticipation. Then, they'd seen the planet, first from orbit, then close up.

"The people up top want us to move Jeff. There's nothing more to be learned around here. There's what's left of a mountain range further south, About ten days journey by U-haul. Say twenty given the low light levels. They want us to poke around at the mountain base, apparently if there's anything to be found that's where it will be. They're going to drop some new living modules down for us. We can abandon the ones here. Once we've moved to the new site and nose around a bit, upside is pretty well convinced we can come home.

That improved morale. A quick journey south using the all-terrain transport vehicles sarcastically nicknamed the U-hauls because they broke down so often their crews ended up carrying things for themselves. Another month or so exploring and then out. And good riddance to Mossberg. The SEALs felt sorry for the planet and empathized with it but they'd still be glad to say goodbye. A dead, for all serious purposes worthless, world, Mossberg was too much of a reminder of what could have happened to Earth.

On Board CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, 18 Scorpii System.

"We were five hundred years late." Admiral Theodore's voice was depressed. It applied across the whole task group orbiting Mossberg. Whatever else one said, in the final analysis, this mission was a failure.

"Ironic isn't it. Just about the time Earth was doing its best to blow itself up, nature handed this poor place the worst hand I can imagine." Captain Madrick looked down at the planet beneath. The nine huge craters that disfigured its largest landmass were clearly visible. It was like the planet had been blasted by buckshot, which was how it had got its name. "Just before the Dark Ages started, people back watched films that showed earth being struck by giant asteroids. Just one usually. Mossberg took nine of them."

"Nine. And the last two were extinction events." Two asteroid fragments, one 11 miles across, the other 17, had punched through Mossberg's crust, sending shockwaves right through the planet, creating a jumbled debris field directly opposite the impact points. SEAL team three were exploring that area now, they were out of contact for a while but nobody believed that would matter much. Nothing could have survived those two impacts. It was sobering really. SAC's vaunted bombers carried 550 kiloton gravity bombs and the biggest they'd ever been armed with was a 25 megaton device. The smaller of the two asteroids that had hit Mossberg had been equivalent to a 300 million megaton nuclear device while the bigger one had probably made it all the way to a billion megatons.

Those impacts had generated compression waves through the molten mantel and core of the Mossberg. They'd set off massive earthquakes that had resonated across the crust of the planet for several years after the impact and caused volcanoes and lava flows to spew vast amount of debris and aerosols and propel this material into the upper atmosphere and stratosphere where it was contaminating the air to this day. Mossberg's core had developed an oscillating ring and as a result the pattern of earthquake/volcanic activity had started a repetitious burst cycle, an earthquake every 70 minutes. That was till happening down there, the seismographs were picking it up although the savagery of the ground movements had faded.

Mossberg had taken seven impacts before the two extinction events. Most had been less than half a mile across , equivalent to devices yielding 30,000 megatons. If there had been a civilization down there, if there had been any sort of life on Mossberg, it might have survived those disasters. It could not have survived the two giants. In fact, the planet itself could have succumbed, disintegrated into an asteroid belt. It hadn't, not quite, although the seismic studies had suggested it had been a near thing and the planet had been perilously close to breaking up.

"Have the brainiacs come up with any idea of when Mossberg will be inhabitable?"

"About 50,000 years they say. It'll take that long for the acid gasses to leach out of the atmosphere and for the place to stabilize properly. The Daimones might be around to see that but we won’t."

"Don't think even they live that long Captain. Still, anything from astrophysics?"

"That's the good news. There are a lot of plugholes in the system. So far we've found at least four groups, one with eight holes in it. Twenty two in all. May be a lot more of course, we're still finding them around Earth. Anyway, there's going to be quite a build-up in this here system. SAC are sending eight bombers as soon as we have the circum-Mossberg space station set up as a refueling point. Navy's sending two tankers to ferry hydrogen/methane from the outer gas giants, save us shipping fuel from Earth. Even with Mossberg out of the running as a settlement, this system's going to be a useful base."

"I hope so. Poor planet." Theodore looked down at the shot-blasted land mass again. "I wonder if anybody was down there and if there were, whether they knew what was coming."

"Scuttlebutt is that there was a civilization down there and they saw a comet coming in and tried to blow it up with their nukes. Only, they didn’t quite succeed, they broke the inbound up into several smaller objects and caused that." Madrick gestured downwards. "Another version is that they knew what to do but their pacifists made them wait too long."

"Sounds like wild space legends to me. If there was a civilization down there, we'd have found some trace of it. There's nothing. My guess is, the planet wasn't inhabited, not by intelligent life anyway. I hope not, can you imagine what it would be like, looking up, seeing that lot coming. Surviving the first impacts, all the time knowing that the extinction events were coming? Better not to have known I think."

Seer's Office, National Security Council Building, Washington DC

"We've got word back from Shiloh, Seer. Mossberg's a bust, a dry hole. Nothing down there but dust and dirt. The SEALs are staying for a while to nose around but the planet's a write-off. If there was any life down there, the asteroid impacts finished it off." Lillith put the report on the National Security Advisor's desk and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down. The Seer flipped through the pages, grimacing at the space shot of the asteroid impact sites.

"Thank you honey. Looks like we dodged the bullet on this one."

Lillith looked at The Seer curiously. "You really would rather we didn’t contact any extra-terrestrial life wouldn't you? So why are we out there?"

"Because if there are other intelligent species in this region of space, I would rather we met them out there, not back here. I'd be happiest if it turned out there were none and we had this universe to ourselves but I don’t think we'll be that lucky. We're going to run into non-human intelligence one of these days, I'd just rather it was later than sooner. We need to recover from the Dark Ages and we need to hide the evidence they happened from any casual visitors."

"Try to hide the history?"

"Or, at least not mention it until we know them better. Telling the first non-human intelligences we meet that we managed to wipe out a substantial part of our own population might not be all that clever. They might think we could do it to them and be tempted to indulge in a little pre-emptive retaliation. When that meeting does finally happen, we're going to have to play it very carefully.

"There's another aspect to that. Humanity's dispersing now, we don't have all our eggs in a single planetary basket any more. We'd survive even if Earth got the Mossberg treatment. The space stations, Mars and Moon bases, they'd all be OK. Our extra-Sol colonies would be OK as well. It would take something completely unimaginable to wipe us out now. A war, that's a different thing entirely. That could take us all out still. I don't think we can be wiped out by a natural disaster any more but we can be hunted down and killed.

"You know Lillith, I'd really be a lot happier if it turned out we would be alone in the Universe. But would it solve anything if we were? It’s space travel that's enabled us to spread out but it’s the same thing that's raising the possibility of running into something we can't handle. Is it always going to be like this? The discoveries that enable us to solve one set of problems make us vulnerable to a larger set?"

"That's what Eldest has always said. Wheeled carts saved them when the Flood came but they dispersed people and started wars." There was a flicker of amusement in Lillith's eyes. Extreme age didn’t prevent people from making the oldest mistake known to man or Daimones, assuming that they were the center of events. Eldest's people might have been a flourishing community before the rising waters flooded them out but they weren't the only ones.

"Talking of larger sets, have you noticed how many more of us there are these days?" The Seer pulled out a file from a combination-locked drawer. "Remember when we used to know all of us, by reputation at least? Isn't that way any more. Some of it is because we're in the open now so people going into transition know what is happening to them and seek us out. The number of transitions is picking up though, we're not as rare as we were."

"Short-lifer historians say we crop up wherever living standards go above a certain level and where people get mixed around a lot. So there was our generation in the Fertile Crescent, Suriyothai's during the great migrations in the 10th century, another group in Rome, and so on. A big swell just before the Dark Ages, none during the trade and movement shutdown, now another big swell seems to be starting. A good or bad thing?"

"Both, the more of us there are, the less exotic we seem. Bad in that more people get resentful when they find they're not one of those who go through transition. I must admit its nice not having to shift identities every few years though."

"True. I was reading the research on us, the doctors have given up trying to find how we differ from short-lifers, now they’re trying to find why short-lifers aren't like us. Looks like Naamah might be right, its something to do with our immune systems."

"Not surprising. It was the clues given by our immune systems that allowed the short-lifers to beat cancer. That, more than anything else, was what got us accepted. Everybody knew somebody who'd died of cancer, everybody knew somebody who was going to and we gave them the clue how to end that. Of course, we were lucky that the Wolfen started to emerge at about the same time. Compared with them, we're normal. At least we don’t have long fangs hanging out every time we open our mouths."

Lillith laughed and finished her coffee. "More truth. We won’t speak of our horns, tails and hooves then. I'm off, I'm going to Dulles to pick Naamah up. The shuttle from Mars is due in this afternoon. See you later."

[Calder]

Chapter 6
Marsport, Isidis Planitia, Mars

"I suppose I can stop having my food tasted now?"

Branwen closed the door behind her. Like most of the surroundings of Marsport, it was highly deceptive. What appeared to be a small wooden pavilion was neither wood nor a pavilion. It was an extruded silicon-based plastic that had been formed and colored to look like wood and it concealed the entrance to the underground shuttle park. Likewise, Marsport wasn't a park and the sky over it wasn't blue. The sun shining down wasn't really the sun either. It was all an artifice, one designed to make life on a hostile planet acceptable. Outside the dome, the air was thin. What little there was a mixture of nitrogen and carbon dioxide that couldn't be breathed. The winds could be unrelenting and rapid temperature changes could swing from too hot to deadly cold inside a few minutes.

Most of Marsport was underground, the buildings, the transport systems that took people around, the pipes and conduits that serviced them, all were dug deep into the surface of Mars. The surface part of the city, the grass and trees, just provided a place for its inhabitants to relax while the small "wooden" buildings scattered at random, were the access points for the city that lay underneath. The plants also helped maintain the atmosphere of course, just like the huge hydroponic tanks that provided the city with its air and much of its food supply. The "sky" was really the plastic dome that covered the city and held the artificial atmosphere in. That dome was photochromic so that it masked out the orange-red sky of Mars and replaced it with a familiar and comforting blue.

Slightly annoyed at the remark, Branwen faced Loki, eyeing him with a definite 'oh grow up' expression on her face. "Naamah's safely on route back to Earth yes. I sent a message through to Washington a couple of days ago, confirming that her shuttle was on its way. Believe me on this Loki, if she wanted to poison you, you'd be dead by now. She's the first one to tell you that nothing can stop a skilled poisoner."

Loki's expression changed from self-satisfied amusement to chagrin. Even after all these years, somehow, when he tried to make jokes like that, they went wrong. When Igrat or Lillith or so many of the others made the same sort of remarks, they were funny and people took them the way they were intended. But, when he did, they were just, wrong somehow. He'd never been able to work out why. Time to move on…

"How is Maeve? Have she and Sucellos settled into Fossae base alright? No problems?"

"Maeve's fine. I stayed over with them before while waiting for the bus back. I think they're missing some company though, Mars is a big place compared with Geneva and we're spread pretty thin out here. Not many settlements yet for a whole planet so getting around is hard and the comms links just don’t give the same sense of community. And with half of us still sitting in Luna City….."

Loki nodded. The last days as the Great Biowar turned global and the plagues started to spread out of control had been a nightmare, a struggle to get as many of his circle to safety as he could. Suriyothai already had most of her people embedded in the undersea bases program and they'd slammed the doors closed as the waves of disease had approached. The Seer and Nefertiti, of course, had their plans in place, they'd been steadily infiltrating their people into the space settlement programs for years and their people were up on the space stations and in Luna City even before the war had broken out. They'd even managed to work most of the walkers into the programs so they were safe. Loki knew that, once again, he'd been caught short. He hadn't believed that the diseases would strike so fast or spread so quickly and he'd almost been trapped. Some of his people had taken shelter in Germany where the small, isolated and self-sufficient farming communities had been able to avoid the worst scourges of plague. Suriyothai had ignored his pleas for help, her reply had been that she had responsibility for the safety of her people and would not endanger them for his. The Seer had managed to arrange an escape route, up to one of the older space stations, using that as a quarantine post before shipping them to the Moon. It had worked, the number of Loki's people using it had been buried in the avalanche of people seeking refuge from the tidal wave of pestilence on Earth.

Most of his people had survived, most of them. After the worst was over, they'd regrouped in Luna City and made that their base until the decision had been made to move to Mars. One day, they hoped, Mars would be a livable world, the moon never would be. Man's foothold there would always be tenuous and technology-dependent. Mars was a better long-term prospect.

"What do you think Branwen? Will Nefertiti's people move out of Washington?"

She shook her head. "Naamah was pretty clear on that, they won't move until there's a society up here that can support them. Anyway, the center of world power is still in Washington and that's where they’ll stay. The Seer wants to be where he can see how events are unfolding and can work out how to ride the tide. Also, the center of the group, and his inner circle in particular, are all established now and comfortable. That's all they’ve ever really cared about

"Frankly, I don't think they'll move at all, they're a conservative group, no surprise there, they've been around for centuries longer than us. They’re growing fast though, there's a lot of new transitions taking place. The current estimate is that there are twice as many of us now as there were before the Dark Ages set in and the number is going up fast. I don't know whether it’s a real increase or its because we're seeing transitions succeed that failed before. We've no real idea of how many transitions we didn’t detect before we left the shadows. Point is though, few centuries ago we had a wide span of ages, those of us who'd been around for centuries dominated us simply by their numbers and experience. That's still true to some extent but our population is getting younger on average and the new Daimones aren't so happy to accept the leadership of the elder ones.

"My guess is that the younger ones will split away and come up here. Loki, the old days, when there were just us, the three settled groups and the wandering walkers, they're gone. Naamah says we have to accept that and I agree with her. There'll be a lot more settled groups and a lot more walkers. In total, there'll be many times more of us. Naamah believes, that's saying the Seer believes and Naamah is relaying his opinion, that there could be a million or more of us in a few centuries. "

"He's probably right but that doesn't change the trend to smaller groups." Loki's voice was thoughtful. "Now, we don't have to hide and keep changing identities, a lot of the justification for the big settled groups has gone. We don't have to shelter new Daimones while they realize what’s happening and adjust to it. We don’t have to cover each other's tracks or fake new identities any more either. That all went when we came out of the shadows. Before, there were a lot of advantages in a large group, we could shuffle people around. We don’t have to do that. Branwen, our whole world is changing. Almost everything we took for granted has been changed."

"Not least of which is that we don't have to be afraid any more. Naamah was telling me that there was one of the ultra-fundamentalists back on Earth tried to give an anti-Daimones sermon and the State Police had to rescue him from his own congregation. He'd got as far as condemning us from scripture when the men dragged him out of the church and the women had a rope over a tree all ready for the hanging. If somebody hadn't called the police, he'd have been a goner for sure." Branwen and Loki both laughed, remarkably unperturbed by the idea of a rabble-rousing preacher being lynched. "He should have known better of course. We're accepted now, people envy us certainly but they understand we're just like them, we just live longer. It's not like the way they see the Wolfen, most people are nervous of them even if they don’t admit it. Anyway, I've been talking history, politics and current affairs with Naamah for a couple of weeks and I need a break. You going to make me something to eat?"

Birdshot Settlement, Planet Mossberg, 18 Scorpii System.

"If there's going to be anything left, this is where it'll be. The geologists say this range is base igneous rock, it survived the impacts almost unchanged."

The journey from Buckshot to the new operational base at Birdshot had taken a little more than three weeks. The solar powered U-hauls had been their usual troublesome selves, their normal unreliability compounded by the dust-laden atmosphere cutting down the efficiency of their solar cells and getting into the working parts of the wheels and suspension systems. The solar arrays themselves were getting less efficient as the air-blown dust had abraded their surfaces. There'd been a two-day windstorm that alone had cut the efficiency of the cells by almost five percent. Towards the end of the trek, one of the U-hauls had broken down completely and its load had been distributed amongst the others, overloading them and causing further trouble. Still, they'd made it in the end and after the U-hauls had been unloaded, the SEALs had kicked back and rested for a day while the scientists got their instruments laid out.

That had been yesterday and today was today. The SEALs were spread out, moving along the cliff face that marked the change from the flat terrain of the impact plains to the long rocky outcrop. Going was hard, the winds had piled the dust up against the ridge and footing was treacherous at best. Yet, there was hope that this might be all worthwhile. These rock formations predated the impacts that had wiped Mossberg clean of life. The deadly fireballs, the planetwide firestorms, the earthquakes and the choking gases that had turned the planet into a desert had changed almost everything but these ancient basalt-like outcrops had survived.

"Jeff. Mike here. Got something. We have a cave. Looks like a deep one."

"Hold there Mike, Wait for backup. Everybody, converge on Mike. Swampy, did you get that?"

"Affirmative. Not sure I believe it though. A real cave? I'd have thought the seismic activity would have collapsed them all a long time ago. You go in there, be damned careful."

"You can bet on that Doc. SEAL-Two out."

It was a cave, a real one. About half as tall again as a man and roughly triangular in shape. Ragged, the rocks around the rim worn and polished by the wind-carried dust. Thomas ran his hand over the rocks, admiring them, thinking what wonderful rocks they were and trying to make friends with them. Once he'd established his rapport with them, he slid into the entrance and looked carefully around. His face mask gave an infrared image of what lay in the darkness. Nothing, no hot spots, no signs of anything hazardous. Which meant, of course that anything that was harmful was matching the ambient temperature.

"Entrance clear on thermal. Moving in. Mike, Jamie, Lynn, follow me. Rest of you stay outside as backup and reserve."

Thomas apologized to the rocks around him for the disturbance and moved cautiously in. The cave bent slightly to the left, a long curve that quickly shut out the light and left the team in darkness. The rocks would also play hell with radio reception, they'd need a relay team to make sure contact with the outside could be maintained. If the cave was a mass of these turns, that could relay team him out of men very quickly.

"I'm trying a sound pulse, see what we can get." His sensor set emitted a high-frequency sound pulse, one any bat would have been familiar with. There was a delay of a split second while his computer analyzed the results, then a fuzzy image formed on his visor, superimposed over what little he could see in the remaining light. It sharpened and clarified as the artificial intelligence sorted the data and made everything sensible. The cave tunnel led straight ahead. "Lynne, call Tom and Joe. They're to take position here as a relay point. Once they're here, come on to join us.

They edged further down the cave, Thomas surveying the floor and walls for any sign this was anything more than a natural cave. There wasn't. It was a standard water-erosion cave but that was important in its own right. It proved that there had been free-flowing water on the planet before the disaster. To any outside observer, it would have been a strange sight, the SEALs in their camouflaged suits sliding unobtrusively along from rocky outcrop to small recess, seeming to blend with the surrounding stone, to almost become part of it as they slipped from one point to the next.

"The cave's opening up. Trying another sound pulse." The equipment gave its new picture. The narrow tunnel was indeed opening up. No sign of movement, no sign of heat signature. "We have a chamber here, it looks like there was a pool here once. Rocks are rounded form water flow. Let's get some light in here."

The word went back along the chain to the outside. A couple of minutes later, the lights arrived, battery powered floodlights that would bathe the whole chamber in white light. It was the work of another couple of minutes to set them up. "Everybody, we're going to visible light. Image intensifiers and thermal vision off." The blackness returned as the visual aids were switched off, then the chamber was suddenly brighter than anything else on dusty, shrouded Mossberg. Thomas was disappointed. The chamber was the end of the cave, there had probably been a pool or something here but that was it. Probably a pocket of limestone in the granite that had been eroded away in the ages when water had flowed on Mossberg.

"That's it people, nothing for us here." It was a question but one that had little hope in it.

"I wouldn't say that Boss. " The SEAL's voice was strangled. Disbelieving. "Look behind you."

On Board CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, 18 Scorpii System.

"How are you settling in Captain?"

"Well sir, very well. Captain Mahan left me a tight ship."

"Pity you took her over in the middle of this particular exploration. It's always good to start one's command with a productive planet. Gets the…." Admiral Theodore was interrupted by an urgent bleep from the ship's intercom system.

"Emergency high-priority message from the surface sir. Doctor Swamphen has news of the highest priority."

"Patch him through."

"Admiral Theodore? Swamphen here. I have incredible news sir. Cave paintings. We were exploring the new site and the SEALs went into a cave. There was a chamber at the end and one wall has paintings on it. Probably all the walls did once but some were exposed to blown sand and probably eroded away but the ones we found were sheltered. They're real cave painting, primitive like the ones on Erath but they're there. Figures sir, four of them. Bipedal and with two arms. They're crude paintings but the creatures were more like us than they were different. And sir, the paintings show them looking up at bright lights in the sky."

"They knew." It was a flat statement.

"Probably Sir, my working hypothesis is that the survivors of the first impacts took shelter in these caves. Going by the standard of the paintings, they were probably equivalent to Earth's Neanderthals in development. Could be they made the paintings as some sort of sacrifice to ward off any more impacts. Or perhaps they were leaving a message for anybody who followed them. Don't know yet. Look, if we've found these, there might be more. Mossberg isn't a bust after all. There was intelligent life here, its just that we got here too late."

"You're right on one thing Doctor. We've found these, there might be more."

"That's my guess Admiral. It's most unlikely that just a single cave survived. There must be more along this ridge and there's a good chance there'll be more paintings. Also, we've got to check for bones and other remnants. If those people sheltered here, they must have died here when the extinction events hit."

"Not what I meant Doctor. Intelligence. We've found life on other planets but never intelligent life, not as we define intelligence anyway. There's always been those who said that we're unique, that intelligence is an unrepeatable freak. Well, you've found evidence that isn't so. If intelligence was evolving here on Mossberg, it'll be doing so on other planets."

There was a long silence on the line. "That's so Admiral. Makes it all the more necessary we look hard at what we've got here. We need a full science team out here right away."

"Concur. Make a full report on what you've got and get it up here right away. I'll send Smolensk back with the news. Captain Madrick, fire up the communications department, alert Smolensk to what is happening and get them ready to make a fast run for Earth. They're to leave as soon as Swamphen's report is in. Next, contact Commander Thomas of SEAL Team Two, congratulate him on behalf of the fleet and ask him what he needs to make a fast exploration of the area. Then, contact SEAL Team three, get them out of the Contra-coup area and order Commander Forden to report to Thomas for orders."

"Very good sir. You were right, we were just five hundred years too late."

"For us perhaps but for the people down there? I wonder if meeting us would have been any less disastrous than getting hit by an asteroid."

[Calder]

Chapter 7
Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Over Florida

"Tony, Yelina, I've got some bad news for you. We've lost a crewman, one of the W/Os has been arrested down on Earth and is in custody prior to his court martial. Impersonating a commissioned officer and misrepresentation before you ask. I don't think we'll be seeing Mister Global again. We've got a replacement coming up but he's fresh out of Flight School. Going to need a lot of on-the-job training.

"Now the good news, we're going back to 18 Scorpii. Despite the fact the planet's unusable, the system itself is very valuable. Lots of plugholes to explore, gas giants to provide fuel and the asteroid belt's turning out to be mineral-rich to the max. Looks like 18 Scorpii will be a pretty major base area and colony system. So we're going to operate out of there while we check out the plugholes. We'll be flying out in company with a liner, the Hyperion. She's on her way to Tau Ceti Three, mixture of tourists and settlers. We're not technically escorting them until they peel off onto Interstellar 881, no reason why we should. We're just going the same way and keeping them company. You know how civilians like to have somebody hold their hands."

A laugh ran around the cockpit. Space wasn't safe, every year ships went missing, but as far as anybody knew, all the hazards were natural. The most common was object impact, at the speeds the ships moved, even a small pebble that got past the laser sweeps could do a lot of damage. For all the videoshows that featured space pirates and interstellar criminals, the reality was that space crime, in that sense anyway, was virtually unknown. The liners had all the problems of any community of people with too much time and money of course. Mostly fraud, petty thieving and drunks brawling. Still, passengers were comforted by the sight of one of SAC's bombers holding station on a passenger ship so the civilian captains liked to take the opportunity of having the company.

"Anyway, one of you two is going to have to ride on the liner as our liaison with the Captain. Rotten job I know, but somebody will have to do it. The other is going to have to give our newbie his first lessons in what serving on a DSB-36 is really like. I'll leave you two to sort out who does what." Captain Newman left the cockpit grinning a little mischievously at the fight he was sure he'd started. A little creative tension did wonders sometimes.

Behind him Williams and Soo were eyeing each other. Ten days deadheading on a luxury liner instead of in a cramped DSB-36 was a prize worth having. There was no real need for a liaison officer on the civilian ship but that was part of the unspoken deal, the presence of the bomber made the passengers feel comfortable. In exchange, the liner carried a member of the crew as a first-class guest and made them feel comfortable. Definitely a prize worth competing for. Williams started to speak and Soo braced herself for the argument, frantically trying to think of the killer reason why the trip should be hers.

"You go Yelina. You deserve it. A week on the liner's something you'll appreciate much more than me. I wouldn't get to enjoy everything there the way you will and, anyway, you don’t have the patience to train newbies. In exchange, I get first dibs on the next goodie to show up. OK?"

Soo's jaw had dropped at the generosity of the gesture. Giving up a week's unofficial luxury vacation was a true act of friendship. "Tony, that's great. Are you sure? I can't say no." Across the cockpit, Williams grinned at her confusion, it was almost worth giving up the visit just to see her so flustered.

Brennan Interstellar Space Port, Phoenix, Arizona USA

It was, all things considered, a miracle they'd got this far. Joseph Vaisie's father was of the firm belief that arriving too early for a scheduled transport departure was far better than arriving too late. After all, it meant one was more likely to miss the queues and there'd always be something to do while waiting. On the other hand, his mother was of the fixed and immovable opinion that arrivals were best left to the last possible minute to "save hanging around" and was convinced that waiting for more than a split second at any point would mean they'd be vulnerable to the Machiavellian schemes of "strange people". Between the two of them arguing, they'd got here just early enough to be stuck at the back end of the long queues in front of the departure desk. Still they'd got to the desk eventually and his father had stepped forward, self-importantly placing all four sets of tickets and travel documents on the desk. Then he started piling all the luggage on to the weighing area.

"I'm sorry sir, each passenger must present their own documents individually. Also, each person must present and individually identify their own luggage." The girl behind the desk smiled mechanically. Some people just never bothered to read the instructions.

"They're my family."

"Yes sir, but each member must present their own documents for inspection and verification."

"The kids will lose them."

"I'm sure they won't sir, but if you're not ready for them to present their own documents, we do have a lot of other people to get on board. If you'd like to wait to one side?"

"That won't be necessary." Arnold Vaisie ill-temperedly took his own passport and documents out of the pile and handed them over. Then, while the ticket clerk leafed through the papers and checked them against the computer records, he handed the rest to his wife, son and daughter.

"Thank you sir. Your medical inspection is verified, your blood test is clear. Rest of your documents are in order. Your shuttle seat will be 16B. Just proceed through those doors there and your family will join you shortly. Mrs Vaisie?"

Amanda Vaisie stepped forward and her travel papers and medical clearances were subject to the same tests. She snatched the papers back and hurried through the doors to the waiting lounge. Behind her, Joseph Vaisie could hear her complaining to her husband. He got a slight sympathetic smile from the ticket clerk as he passed over his set of papers and lifted his own suitcase on to the weighing machine. He'd expected there to be problems at the check-in, unlike his father, he'd sat down and read the instruction booklet that had been issued with their tickets.

In fact, the restrictions on going into space were easing as the threat of disease on Earth faded. The last major epidemic had been over a hundred years ago and the wariness of the space dwelling communities was slackening. A few years back, anybody who wanted to go to one of the space stations or the Luna and Mars colonies had to be filled up with broad-spectrum antibiotic and antiviral cocktails, get a thorough medical and have extensive blood tests. Then they got to spend three months in quarantine. A few years before that, it had been virtually impossible to make the trip, the barrier between the space colonies and Earth was well-nigh impenetratable. There were dark rumors that stowaways who'd tried to evade the barriers had been summarily spaced. Joseph guessed that wasn't true. He knew the cargo ships routinely exposed their holds to vacuum to kill off any parasites that had found their way in there. Parasites probably included anybody stupid enough to try stowing away.

"Swab please" The ticket clerk handed him an absorbent pad on a stick. He ran it around the inside of his cheek and returned it while the girl stuck his medical report card into a slot. She put the swab into another hole and activated the system. Once DNA tests had taken days but now the process was instantaneous. The machine read the DNA on the swab and compared the results with the information encoded on the card. They matched and the light around the card slot turned green. There were also dark rumors about what happened to people who got a red light.

"The luggage you have presented is yours? You packed it yourself? Has it been out of sight at any time since you locked it? Are you carrying any third person packages?"

"Yes, no, my mother packed it, no, no." The girl pursed her lips and put a red sticker on the bag. Packed by his mother or not, the kid hadn't packed his own so it would be opened and searched. "Very good sir, here is your boarding pass." He got seat 16A, logical he thought, give the children the window seats and at the same time keep their parents between them and the aisle. He was old enough to appreciate it was a sensible system, young enough to resent it. Still, having the window seat was worth it.

The departures lounge was, of course, a tourist trap. Concessions selling "duty free" goods that were inferior in quality and costlier than their equivalents outside the space ports, others selling "souvenirs" that under any other circumstances nobody in their right minds would purchase. Malodorous food outlets that served overpriced pieces of overage meat, gently marinated in rancid grease before being served in stale bread rolls. The Vaisie family wandered around for a few minutes, finding little difficulty in resisting the blandishments of the concession operators. By that time their luggage had reappeared and they reclaimed it.

Eventually, a chiming noise announced that their shuttle was ready for boarding. Several sets of sliding doors opened in the wall, revealing the entrance to the orbiters. Across the departure lounge, a ripple spread across the crowd as the waiting travelers sensed an opportunity to escape from the pressing attentions of the sellers of the sub-standard. People gathered around the openings, watching the number readout to give their row number so they could pass through embarkation security and take their seats. Eventually Row 16 flashed up and the Vaisie family went though the security portal to the shuttle beyond.

As they were checked through the doors into the orbiters, they could see the shuttles were convertible. They could be used for passengers or freight and their design reflected the demands of both. They had a large, rectangular fuselage with the entrance in the rear, the doors forming almost the whole width of the fuselage. There were luggage compartments on either side so the passengers could stow their suitcases. The seats were four-abreast with an aisle down the middle. The Vaisie family found their row and eased in, fumbling with the elaborate seat harness that was supposed to provide for the zero-gravity conditions of the space part of their journey as well as the acceleration of their launch.

Out of the window, Joseph could see that the first of the line of shuttles had already completed loading and was being towed out, sliding along the taxi-rail towards the catapult. Behind it, number two started to move as its way was cleared. Then, Joseph heard the whine of the ramp motors behind him start up and then felt the slight change in pressure as the stern opening of the shuttle closed. After all the preparations, they were finally about to really start their trip.

Technically, the Vaisie family were neither tourists nor settlers. Arnold Vaisie was a bank manager back on Earth and the Tau Ceti colony had grown to the size where they needed a bank. So, his company had "offered" him the "opportunity" of a five year tour in the colony running the bank and its associated facilities. In fairness to them, it was a good opportunity and a rare opportunity to see what off-Earth life was like. Joseph Vaisie would have been more delighted if the opportunity had featured the L4 or L5 Lagrange colonies but Tau Ceti was exotic enough. His chain of thought was disturbed by the lurch as his own shuttle started its trip away from the terminal building.

The launch system was simple enough. A long electromagnetic catapult accelerated the shuttle to speeds high enough for the scramjets to cut in. Technically, it didn’t have to be a long catapult and the ones that only handled freight flights were much shorter. But, not all the passengers were in the best of health and it would create too much paperwork if one of them died as a result of excessive G-forces on take-off. Not to mention the bad publicity of course. As a result, the acceleration when it came was gentle, pressing him into the seat certainly, but no more than that. Even so, the scenery passing the window was passing with ever-increasing speed, the buildings of the spaceport quickly being replaced by the surrounding desert. Joseph could feel the rumble as the scramjets cut in, then the angle of pressure changed and the ground was replaced by the blue of the sky, light at first but darkening steadily as the shuttle climbed. He strained his eyes, looking for the first stars to appear.

He didn't get to see them become visible; as the shuttle climbed he felt the lurch as the engines transitioned from scramjet mode to rockets. As they did, a videoscreen on the bulkhead at the front of the passenger cabin flashed into life, showing an image of the sky ahead of the ship. The stars were already visible on that and, by the time Joseph looked through the window again, they were on show there as well.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are a few minutes out from our rendezvous with the Hyperion. Please remain seated and do not attempt to move around the cabin. Once we have docked with Hyperion your cabin staff will assist you to disembark. Gravity in the disembarkation area will be three quarters earth normal so be careful how you move. On leaving the shuttle, please first reclaim your baggage and then proceed to the banking section. Once you have completed your arrangements there, please proceed to the registration desk where you will be given your cabin number and keys. Thank you for selecting Pan American Spaceways for this shuttle flight."

As if we had much choice, Joseph thought to himself. The tickets came as a package and had been paid for by his father's bank. Up on the screen, one of the stars was getting steadily brighter. As he watched, it changed from being a twinkling point of light into a clearly-visible cylinder. The Hyperion It looked tiny at this distance but Joseph had taken the trouble to look her up. 500 feet in diameter, more then 3,000 feet long. He couldn't quite see it yet but she was spinning on her long axis to simulate gravity in the shell that formed her outer structure. 3.4 revolutions per minute gave a simulated equivalent to earth gravity. On the outer deck anyway, that was the one where all the cabins were. The decks had progressively lower gravity with the innermost at 0.75 Earth.

Up on the screen the cylinder was steadily foreshortening as the shuttle matched altitudes with the liner. He could see her internal structure now, the four deck thick outer shell and the long communication spokes that lead to the central hub that contained her landing bay and engines. From this angle she looked like a giant old-fashioned cartwheel. Joseph couldn't see her landing dock yet but the spin on the ship was now painfully obvious.

"Arnold, look, it's spinning. That must be very dangerous?"

"No dear, they'll stop her spinning while we land an then start her up again."

Joseph didn’t say anything but mentally he raised his eyebrows in despair. Spinning a ship like Hyperion took a lot of energy to get her started; they wouldn't stop the spin for something as simple as landing a shuttle. It wasn't necessary anyway, all the pilot had to do was to match spin speeds and the problem was solved. His father obviously just didn’t understand these things. The Hyperion was filling the screen now and the rectangular slot of her landing bay was clearly visible. Joseph felt the shuttle shudder slightly as the attitude jets cut in and the obvious spin on Hyperion seemed to slow and stop as the shuttle took up the same 3.4 rpm spin.

"See dear, I told you they'd stop."

Once again Joseph manfully restrained himself from saying anything. The docking bay approached fast, then the black of space was replaced by the gray of ceramic-steel alloy and the white glare of neon lights. The shuttle stopped, then there was a solid thump as she touched down in the flight deck. A few small moves and a rattle as the docking clamps secured around the shuttle's undercarriage. Landing shuttles on space stations was old art now and Hyperion was only a very mobile space station after all. The walls seemed to close in as the elevator dropped down the long shaft from the hub to the rim, then opened up again as the shuttle reached her destination, the arrivals bay on the inner circumference of the primary structure.

What happened next was the action of a well-oiled machine. The stern ramp of the shuttle dropped and the cabin crew went to the rearmost line of seats, assisting the passengers to reclaim the bags they'd loaded. They were quickly herded out onto the deck and equally quickly out of the landing area. By the time the last passengers had disembarked, the ones who had preceded them were already on their way to the reception and registration desks. As soon as the arrivals bay was empty, the elevator started its work of lifting the shuttle back to the flight deck for relaunch.

By that time, the Vaisie family was already in the queue for the ship's bank. The Hyperion didn't take cash money for anything; passengers were required to make a deposit in the bank and were issued with a ship's debit card that would charge expenses directly against that deposit. Joseph's stomach was knotting, this was the point where he guessed things were going to get ugly. His father had made his deposit and started to turn away but Joseph didn't start to leave with the rest. Instead, he stepped forward and put a roll of banknotes onto the teller's counter. His father stopped dead as soon as he saw and went bright red.

"Give me that money right now!"

"No. It’s mine. I earned it. Washing cars down at the dealers."

"Do as you’re told. If you want money you can ask for it."

"NO!" Joseph's father went deeper crimson and took a step forward, pushing towards his son. Around them, the crowd of people started to get back out of the way while the bank teller made a small move, unobtrusively activating an alarm.

"There a problem here gentlemen?" The figure was large and dressed in a uniform that bore copious marks of authority. "I'm the Ship's Purser."

"This little swine won't give me his money. We agreed I'd keep the money in the family."

"It’s mine, I've been working evenings and weekends for months to save it. And we agreed nothing. You just told me."

“Do as you are told, when you are told.” Arnold Vaisie was almost purple with anger and he stepped forward again.

The Purser moved quickly into his way but addressed Joseph. “That’s a lot of money to earn washing vehicles on a dealers.”

“I was there when they needed me. And I did a good job for them. They trusted me.”

The purser looked at Joseph for a second then seemed to make his mind up. His voice was carefully neutral as he addressed Arnold Vaisie. "I'm sorry sir, but ship's regulations are very clear on this point. Money brought onto the ship by a person can only be credited to the account of the person who actually carried it on. It's because of the danger of fraud and confidence tricksters. You're a man of the world, Sir, I'm sure you can see that is how it has to be that way. It's Regulation 666, sub-section four."

"OK, but you give me that damned card."

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't allow that either. Once issued, a debit card can only be carried and used by the person its assigned to. Same reason, same regulation."

Arnold Vaisie stood steaming for a second. "Very well. But don't you come running to me for anything after you've blown all yours, And you just wait until we're alone."

The Purser looked at him for a moment then went to the registration desk and spoke quietly with one of the operators. The girl grinned for a second then called Arnold Vaisie over. "Sir, we'd like to upgrade you and your wife to a Galactic suite. It's the most luxurious on the ship, has five rooms including a side bedroom for your daughter. We think its better that young girls on the ship stay close to their parents don't you?"

"What about my son." The last worse was a suppressed curse delivered through gritted teeth.

"He'll have to stay in the economy cabin Sir. Here's your keys and the brochure on your new suite. The video panel on the key will direct you to your suite. Enjoy your stay on board the Hyperion.”

While a somewhat mollified Arnold Vaisie took his wife and daughter to their new suite, Joseph Vaisie had finished collecting his debit card from the bank. The same reception girl called him over.

"Joseph Vaisie? I've moved your cabin so that you're as far away from your father as possible. Here's the key, it'll take you to your cabin. Good luck Joe."

As Joseph wheeled his bag away from reception, the Ship's Purser joined him.

"How old are you son?"

"Seventeen next week Sir."

The Purser nodded. "That's about what I thought. Well, you've got your own cabin and your own resources. You're standing on your own feet now. You're not going to let me down, are you, son?"

[Calder]

Chapter 8
Seer's Office, National Security Council Building, Washington DC

"How was your trip?"

"The return flight? Boring. The only interesting thing was some kid having a coming-of-age showdown with his father. They were boarding as we were leaving. Stood up for himself quite well. Iggie was cheering him on, of course."

There was a saddened silence from the Seer. His own son had been the commander of the Companion cavalry, a unit of eight squadrons that had been Macedonia's most effective weapon. Philotas's cavalry had become known as Alexander's Crowbar, the force he used to lever open gaps in the enemy line. Only he'd never accepted that his reputation was being established on its own merits and he'd been determined to do something to compete with Parmenio's reputation as the grand strategist who'd masterminded Alexander's campaigns. Philotas had become mixed up, somehow, with a plot to assassinate Alexander. It had failed and Philotas had been detected and executed.

Alexander had decided it would be unwise to kill the son and leave the father alive so he'd arranged to have Parmenio killed. Only, he'd forgotten that he was dealing with a master strategist who was always at least two jumps ahead of everybody else. Parmenio had known that, someday, Alexander would believe he was too powerful and dangerous to leave alive and he'd taken his precautions. Now, Alexander was dust and Parmenio was America's National Security Advisor. A twist of fate that couldn't bring his son back from the dead. The Seer hoped the nameless kid Naamah had seen would have better fortune in his defiance of his father.

"How's Loki settling in on Mars? Has the idiot tried to turn off the atmosphere plant as a practical joke yet?"

"Oh come on Seer, he's not that bad. If he was he'd never have survived on the space stations and Luna City. Marsport is turning out pretty well as a matter of fact. The other settlements there are pretty raw still but there really are Martians now. One day, the place will be earthlike."

"I'm not sure we need to terraform planets; the way its working out, the combination of space stations and inhabitable planets will give us the footholds we need. Last count is, there are fifty plus inhabitable worlds out there that we can get to. Probably more than that. We don't need to terraform Mars."

"The Solar System's home Seer. For us more than the short-lifers." Naamah grinned. "We've been here longer after all. Not many people want to leave, I think only a limited portion ever will. And that applies to us as much as the short-lifers."

"That's something I want to talk to you about, honey. We've had a formal approach from the Tau Ceti Colony, the government in New Canberra have offered us a contract to run their administration. Same deal as we have here. There are three or four more colonies about to follow the same route. What I want to do is send out some of the old-timers to act as a cadre along with the more experienced younger ones and a few novices. We'll use the set-up we
have here as a sort of training and filtering center to supply the colonies with administration as they grow to the point where they need it."

"Sounds good Seer. You know, Loki and his circle have no real idea where to go or what to do next. They’re trying to recover from the Dark Ages and establish themselves on Mars but that's it. Snake's always been so devoted to her Muang Thai that she doesn't see much of what happens off-world. The walkers are spreading out into space, we should do the same. Aren't Sir John and Musashi-san on Tau Ceti?"

"That they are, both doing exploration on the frontiers there so Iggie tells me. And having a ball doing it. Hawkwood said he hadn't had so much fun since he taught Tokugawa how to fight with muskets. Oh yes, Tommy Blood is out on Tau Ceti as well."

"Astarte have mercy on them. There's a major law and order problem right there."

"Yup. Anyway, question. Naamah, do you want to go with the group heading out for Tau Ceti?"

She looked at him steadily. "Do you want me to go?"

"Frankly, no. Henry and Achillea are going, they'll act as the muscle if needed. I have Dido penciled in to lead the group but I thought I'd give you first shot if you wanted to take it. I asked Lillith as well but she wanted to stay."

Naamah nodded. She and the Seer had been involved for almost a century now, carrying on a relationship that had lasted, on and off, for much, much longer than that. "No, I'd rather stay with you here. Perhaps we can go out to a colony together sometime? I don't want to lose touch with all of our old gang."

"We won't. its an odd thing but do you realize that Earth and Tau Ceti are closer, in terms of time taken to get there, than Virginia and Connecticut were back when we first arrived in America? Remember how long it took us to get from Jamestown to New London? That was a lot riskier than space travel as well. Remember what nearly happened to Dido?"

"That's true. Hadn't thought of it that way. I'll bet Henry will love being back on the Frontier again. What's the odds, he'll have the police force renamed 'The Regulators'." Naamah smiled affectionately. She'd been Henry's partner for about a hundred and fifty years after he'd undergone transition and she still had a soft spot in her heart for him.

"Yeah, it'll be like old times for him. Even down to riding horses. Anyway, it’s settled then, Dido leads the group for the Tau Ceti contract. I guess Inanna will head up the next group out. In the mean time, Nefertiti and I'd better go up to New Miami and brief Eldest on what’s going on.”

"Rather you than me. After an hour talking to Eldest, I start contemplating the virtues of poison."

"Naamah, honey, you are always contemplating the virtues of poison. I know what you mean though." Humans had an understanding of how memory worked now. In its simplest terms, the brain didn't remember things, it retained small keys that when activated, set a avalanche of other keys into action that reconstructed the memory. That was why a single small detail could suddenly cause a whole world of 'forgotten' memories to resurface. It meant that the brain could retain far more information than previous theories had ever suggested. Only, it also meant that as people got older, the keys got more numerous and more things could trigger off the avalanche of memory and Daimones were a lot older than most.

Eldest had been around so long that he now had so many seeds in his brain that almost anything could start off the process of memory. Somebody speaking to him could say something or do something that would start to bring back a world of memories from a life that was more than ten times longer than any other Daimones. Something as simple as a tap flowing or water poured from a glass could bring back the memories of the great flood that had created what was now the Black Sea. Eldest had seen the giant waterfall that had been created when the Mediterranean broke through the land bridge that separated it from the valley beyond. Seen it and remembered it. It was a spell-binding description, in its place. Only the description kept cropping up when it wasn't appropriate.

Some said Eldest was senile, he wasn't. He just had too many memories that kept crowding back at the wrong times.

Swimming Pool, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

A swim before breakfast was, Joseph Vaisie thought, an excellent idea. The previous evening, he'd followed the directions on the mini-map embedded in his room key and found his cabin. The girl in reception had done him proud, she'd put him in a row of cabins close to both the pool and one of the buffets that was spaced out around the ship. His pre-paid room rate included breakfast at one of those buffets so that at least was working out well.

He'd thought he would unpack before reading all the ship's briefing documents but he'd never had the chance. As soon as he'd turned the lights on, the viewscreen in the corner had switched itself on and a friendly but authoritative voice filled the room.

"Good evening. I am Captain John Olsen, Commander of the Holland-America liner Hyperion and I would like to welcome you on board for this voyage. We are presently embarking our passengers and, for security reasons I must ask that, now you are in your cabin, to stay there until we get underway at 0300 ship's time. For your information, it is currently 1800 ship's time. I apologize for the inconvenience but it is essential for the security of this ship. A complimentary evening meal will be served in your cabin shortly and all the entertainment libraries will also be available free of charge tonight. Thank you for your consideration in this matter."

The viewscreen had flipped off again. Joseph had felt like sighing with relief, he'd been afraid his father would find out where his cabin was and come over with the intention of carrying on the row that had started in the banking area. Not a problem now. He'd wondered whether he should try the door, he had an uneasy feeling that the viewscreen message had implied the door had been locked to make sure the passengers didn’t go wandering around. If he tried to open it, it was a good bet the fact would be recorded somewhere. On the other hand, what if there was an emergency? He was still debating whether to try the door when there was a quiet chime from the door. His complimentary dinner had arrived. He'd made his selection and the attendant had brought the tray in.

As Joseph had opened it up a thought had struck him. Did the free entertainment libraries have an adult erotic channel? He switched the viewscreen on again. Yes, there was such a channel and it was free, tonight only. He winced when he'd seen the cost to view the channel on normal nights and that had made him look at the other prices. Everything on the ship was expensive, he'd thought the money he'd saved was a lot but divided out between the days of the voyage, it was barely enough to eat with. Still, back to his channel, grab it while it was free. Only, the screen had reset to the Classic Movies library and the announcer was most of the way through his introduction.

"pre-Dark Ages classic. Of particular interest is that the flying sequences in this film were shot using the legendary RB-58 Marisol. The historians watching know that Marisol was shot down a few weeks after these scenes were made, an action that is now regarded as having started the descent to the Great Biowar of 1972. So, without further introduction, please sit back and enjoy "Mission to Myitkyina" starring Clint Eastwood and Sophia Loren."

Joseph had been swept up in the film and experienced the unique pleasure of being able to lose himself in the plot of the old film without the family constantly interrupting. He'd even got a lump in his throat when the hero and heroine had a blazing row because the wife thought her husband was neglecting her in favor of his aircraft. He'd stormed out the house. Eventually she'd followed him to make up but by the time she'd driven to the airfield, the RB-58s were already lifting off. She'd stood outside the fence crying while the bombers streaked past. Then, there were the flying sequences as the Hustlers had fought their way through the Chipanese defenses to clear the way for the bombers behind them. By the time the film had ended, it was 11:30 ship's time and he was too tired to stay up later.

He'd woken at 09:30 and cursed himself for oversleeping and missing his free breakfast at the buffet. He'd looked them up in the information pack. Breakfast was served until 11:30! That was when he’d decided to have a swim first. The walk had been an interesting experience; they said the spin on the ship imitated gravity but it didn't. For one thing, walking with the spin seemed to increase his weight and made the first step seem like a step upwards. A couple of times, he'd nodded a polite greeting to other passengers and the movement of his head had made his eyes play tricks, giving him an illusion of movement. The first time it had happened, he'd felt quite sick.

The pool was beautiful, kidney shaped, with diving boards and big black arrows marking the direction of spin. That was critical. Trying to dive into the pool downspin might land one back where one started, while a jump upspin might carry twice as far as one along the axis of rotation as the diver had intended. Either could result in a bad accident. The pool itself had a tendency to flow upspin and had to be recycled using pumps. There was a fountain in the center of the pool, its jets making strange patterns as the water shooting upwards veered downspin, then reversed and veered upspin as it descended. A useful visual reminder of how critical the direction of spin was. Joseph lined himself up carefully and dived in.

Swimming felt the same once he was in the water and, after practicing a few lengths, he found himself wondering if swimming underwater was the same as well. Theoretically, it should be, Joseph thought and was uneasily aware that his physics wasn't good enough to make anything more than an informed guess. Well, if all else failed, try it. He ducked under and started to swim under the surface. Yup, it did feel the same. Then he bumped into something soft and yielding. He surfaced quickly and wiped the water out of his eyes. A young woman was watching him, head tilted to one side, one eyebrow raised. Joseph suddenly realized that the action of swimming had probably caused his hands to go somewhere highly inappropriate when he'd bumped into her. It was the sort of situation that demanded an immediate formal apology.

"Madam, my clumsy and inconsiderate action has disturbed your enjoyment of the pool. Please accept my apology and if I may perform a service in recompense?"

The woman smiled and nodded her head in a friendly acceptance. "A minor inconvenience of no consequence. And a courteous apology is always adequate recompense."

Joseph relaxed, a formal apology, formally accepted meant the incident was closed, and would not be brought up again. The girl smiled again at him "You got on yesterday didn't you? First trip in space?"

"Yes, Madam, on both counts. The spin effects have me really confused."

"Me too, and it’s not the first time I've been Topside. Normally we fly free-fall. Enjoy yourself, Sir."

She dived away, slipping through the water with the grace and elegance of a seal. Joseph turned to resume swimming and then the implications of her words sank home. Only SAC's bombers flew for prolonged periods in freefall, she had to be from one of the two escorting Hyperion. That made him gasp out a quiet Oh wow.

Swim finished, he went back to his cabin, changed and shaved. By the time he got back to the poolside buffet it was still only 11:00 and he showed his room key to the cashier. Then he piled his plate as high as he could manage. The more free food he ate, the less he'd have to pay for and the prices on this ship were worrying him. Perhaps his father had been right after all?

"Excuse my intrusion into your privacy, Sir, might I ask a favor?" He looked up, it was the young woman he’d bumped into at the pool. She hadn't gone to change, she'd just thrown a light robe over her swimsuit. "I hate eating alone, would you mind if I join you?"

"Why, of course not. Please do." Joseph got up and seated her at the table, getting a dazzling smile of thanks as a reward. An odd smile, very friendly but one that kept the woman's lips closed. "My name is Joseph."

"Hi Joseph, I'm Yelina." She looked at him a little harder. "I remember you now. You were the one who stood up to your father yesterday." Joseph looked embarrassed and flushed. "You've nothing to be ashamed of, every woman watching and most of the men were cheering you on. Why do you think Brian took your side so fast?"

"Brian, Yelina?"

"Brian Nightwatch, the Purser. Old friend of mine." That wasn't quite true Yelina thought to herself, intimate friend certainly but she'd only met him the evening before. "You settled in alright?"

Joseph looked at her, diving into her breakfast, and decided he could do the same. After several mouthfuls of food had vanished he marshaled his thoughts properly. "I think so. I was looking at the prices on this ship though. My father might have been right, it'll be all I can do just to keep myself fed."

Yelina looked at him thoughtfully. He had the sort of engaging innocence about him that reminded her of a puppy she'd eaten once. "Joseph, would you mind terribly if I gave you a lecture?"

"I'd love it Yelina."

"OK. In SAC, we sometimes do duties like this where we're staying in hotels or riding liners where we have to pay our way. We get a thing called a per-diem to live on. That's a fixed sum each day, spend more than that and it comes out of our pockets, spend less and we get to keep the balance. So we're all experts at getting the maximum goodies in exchange for our bucks. You've made a good start here, the buffet is open to 11:30 and you can eat as much as you want. Which reminds me. I'm going back for some more before they close." She collected another plateful of food, Joseph following closely behind. Once they'd regained their seats she continued, Yelina picking up smoothly from where she'd ended. "So a late breakfast here takes care of breakfast and lunch. Now, Joseph, why do you think this ship has facilities."

"To keep the passengers happy?"

"No, to keep them broke. The whole purpose of the facilities on this ship is to take money out of your bank account and transfer it to the Holland-America account. They don't make money running the ship itself, it’s probably break-even at best, but the on-board facilities generate a fabulous cash flow. That's why they take your cash and give you a debit card. It’s not necessary really but it makes people spend more freely. The minibar in your cabin for example. It’s outrageously priced. What they don't tell you is the water out of the taps on this ship is as pure as any mineral water you can buy. So, if you need a drink, just fill a glass from the tap. That's just an example of how we can play them at their own game. Work out how they soak money from the passengers and use it against them.

"Example, you've seen the menus from the restaurants here. The Trocadero for example. Hideously expensive aren't they? Now, let’s think about this. Have you been to the bowling alley yet?" Joseph shook his head. "Bowling in spin-simulated gravity is really fun because you have to work out how the spin affects the ball. Only they charge you for renting the ball, the lane, the pins, the shoes you wear, even for the cheers when you knock the pins down. Charge you by time. So the longer you spend there, the better for their bottom line. They don't want you to leave so there's a snack bar down in the bowling alley. Serves hamburgers, hot dogs, ice cream sodas and so on. At very low prices so you'll eat there and not leave the bowling alley. And while you have a snack, the rental on your shoes and ball and lane etc all keep clicking away."

"So I eat there but don’t go bowling?"

Yelina made a triumphant 'Yes!' sign with her hand. "Right! You can get a good hamburger, fries, and an ice cream soda for less than a maitre d's 'good evening sir' will cost you at the Troc. And I guess that food's much more to your taste than the fancy stuff they have up there. But nowhere in the cabin information pack will you find mention that the bowling alley snack bar exists. That's just one example, explore the ship, look around, see what you can find. Holland-America rely on the fact that people won't do that, they'll take what the information pack in your cabin says as gospel.

"Another thing, there are free courses, lectures and so on, on the ship. They're not publicized because people sitting and listening to them aren't spending money but they’re there. It's not like school Joseph, where the teachers have to teach you and you have to listen. Here, the lectures are given by people who want you to learn about things that interest them and you're there because you want to learn about something that interests you. The list is published on the ship's data channel. That's free as well. Oh, by the way, don't waste money on the erotic channel, it's fabulously expensive and you won't see anything there that you can't see around the pool. Look, I've got to go, I'm supposed to be on the bridge in a few minutes. Explore the ship Joseph, it’s worth the effort. There's all sorts of things you can do here."

"Yelina, can we swim together again tomorrow?"

She leaned back, eyes half closed. "You just want to see me in a swimsuit again, don’t you?"

Joseph looked back nervously, his voice shaking slightly. He knew that a gallant reply was required but he was terrified to use one in case it offended her and that was something he desperately did not want to do. He decided to chance it, gambling that his youth would get him tolerance if the remark was inappropriate. "Not as much as I'd like to see you without it."

Yelina's officer training came in useful then. She'd felt like giving a delighted chuckle but she knew he'd assume she was laughing at him, not with him, and be hurt. So she swallowed it back and just let the affectionate look come through. "In this swimsuit, it doesn't make much difference. But I come down here every morning about nine for a couple of hours. So, if you want, we can swim together and then have breakfast again tomorrow. Now, I really have got to get to the bridge."

She took off glancing behind him as she went. Joseph is a nice kid, she thought, but he’s far too young for me. I’ll have to fix him up with a girl of his own age.

[Calder]

Chapter 9
Galactic Stateroom, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

BAA—weeep; BAA—weeep.

Alarms, whether sound, lights or a bucket of cold water, always tended to leave the victim in a state of confusion. This morning was no exception. Yelina Soo woke up, not quite certain whether the noise was her wake-up call, an incoming message or Showgirl's hull breach alarm. She tried to shake the sleep out of her head, only partially succeeding, then looked at the console by her bed. It was an inbound message, the light on the top of the console was flashing urgently.

Her mind back in gear, she checked to see the privacy shield was down over the videoscreen. When videophones had finally become widespread, on the fifth attempt to introduce such a service, they had run head-on into the growing concern with privacy and civility. As a result, the sets were now designed so that a physical screen, a sheet of heavy plastic, fitted over the video display, completely isolating it from the room around its position. Turning the video unit on meant having to make a conscious decision to lift that shield in order to reach the on-switch under it. Yelina didn't even consider activating the video part of her system. The outfit she was wearing would probably give the person at the other end heart failure. It would be sound only for this call.

"Lieutenant Soo? Captain Olsen. Please join me on the bridge at your earliest convenience."

"Very good, Sir." She cut the connection and sighed; 0630, too early for her personal taste. There was a disheveled mound in the bed that would have to be dealt with, her partner from the night before. She lifted up the cover and blew gently in the man's face.

"Uhhh. Oh wow." He was one of the navigating officers from the dayshift bridge crew. Three down five to go thought Yelina with a certain element of conceit. Working her way through the navigation department was a little project of hers.

"It’s 0630 and I've just had an emergency call to the bridge. Thank you for your attentions last night, Sir, your efforts have pleased me greatly. But now I'm going to get out of this outfit, have a shower and get dressed. That'll take me at least a quarter of an hour. Due to the pressing nature of the call from the bridge, I would much appreciate your courtesy in having taken your leave by the time I finish."

Yelina gave him a quick kiss then headed off towards the bathroom, unfastening buckles as she went. By the time she got to the shower, she'd managed to get them all undone and the release of the pressure on her waist was a relief. I’m putting on weight, she reflected, too much good living on a liner like this would do that. More exercise is necessary. That thought caused a slow predatory grin.

By the time she'd finished her shower and slipped into SAC coveralls, her erstwhile partner had, as requested, left. There was a sheet of paper on the pillows, a hand-drawn rose and a "Thank You" in an elegant cursive script. Nice handwriting, and a polite gesture. That might get him into my cabin again.

The trip to the bridge was relatively simple. There was an elevator a few feet down from her cabin, that took her to the innermost level of the outer rim of the ship. Then, she went forward, through the hatchway marked "crew only" to another elevator that took her down, through one of the communication spokes to the ship's core. The aft part of that long, spindle-shaped object was primarily the docking bay and the engine compartments. Forward, though, was the ship's bridge. "Gravity", actually centripetal force, down here was much less and she could float in ways that reminded her of Showgirl.

In reality, there was no reason why the bridge should be at the front of the ship. It had no viewports leading outside; what appeared to be them were actually screens, fed by cameras outside the ship. The ship's computers eliminated the effects of her rotation from the data on those screens so that, as far as external clues were concerned, the ship didn't seem to be spinning at all. Part of the illusion that the effects of her spin really were gravity.

"Good morning Lieutenant, my apologies for disturbing you so early but I am afraid I have some very bad news for you." Olsen's distinguished features were sympathetic. "We have just received word that one of SAC's bombers, the Lady Heather has been lost."

It was like a punch to her heart. Showgirl and Lady Heather had been on the beta-Corvii exploration together and spent a year TDY on 58 Eridani. All the surface colonies had a large military airfield and, as soon as colonists were established, a detachment of SAC bombers was assigned to them. They'd stay on a continuous basis until the Colony was secure, then they'd be replaced by a rotating SAC TDY and a permanent Planetary Defense presence. So far the precautions had been unnecessary.

"What happened Sir? Hostile action?" That was what everybody in SAC, the Navy and Planetary Defense was waiting for.

"No, collision. She was about to make a portal transit to 72 Herculis when a freighter popped out coming the other way. It was head-on, neither ship stood a chance. It wouldn't have mattered what ships they were, it was non-survivable. Lieutenant, I speak for everybody on the bridge when I ask you to accept our deepest sympathy on the tragic loss of your comrades. While not wishing to intrude upon your privacy, if there is any service we can provide to aid you at this time?"

"Thank you Captain, your sympathy is of great comfort to me and your offer of service is as helpful as any deed might be." It was odd, she thought, the formal offer of condolences and her formal response were strangely comforting, much more so that a casual approach would have been. A reminder that everybody involved was part of something much greater than just their immediate surroundings. "May I ask if this will be affecting our flight plan?"

It was a good question. The possibility of a collision at a portal had been discussed before but the odds against were thought to be too high to warrant serious consideration. That must all have changed now.

"We've been asked to delay a day before entering Interstellar 80. I've been talking to Showgirl and Belladona and they'll run each portal ahead of us to warn anybody the other side that we're coming though. There's discussion of what to do on a permanent basis, one idea is for a ship to fire a probe through the portal before making a transit. Be that as it may, Lieutenant, I would like you to be on the bridge here for each transit that we make. I have a revised schedule of our transits for you. One hour before and after each transition?"

"Very good Sir." She read quickly down the list. "Might I suggest a two-hour duty before the Alpha Eridani transition? That's a complex one and I have to leave the ship before you complete the transit."

"Two hours then, and thank you Lieutenant. Oh, there will be a memorial service for the crew of Lady Heather at 1500 in the Ship's Chapel. Multi-denominational of course. An Alpha of Fenris will be present."

"Thank you again Captain, you and your crew have been most considerate. May I make use of your secure communications suite? I need to discuss this tragedy with Showgirl."

Swimming Pool Buffet, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

He'd thought she wouldn't make the breakfast today, not with what had happened. He'd resigned himself to eating his brunch alone when he saw a familiar figure slip through the crowd around the pool and collect a plateful of food from the buffer. He rose and seated Yelina at their table, getting the accustomed smile of thanks for the courtesy. "Yelina, I heard the announcement when I woke up. I am most terribly sorry. Is there some service I can provide?"

"Your offer is as comforting as any deed and I thank you for the thought. We've flown with Lady Heather a number of times and I knew her crew, it’s hard to think of them gone. Space is dangerous, Joseph, it’s easy to forget that in a liner like this but if it had been us making that transit instead of Lady Heather or that freighter, people would be holding a memorial service for us."

"I'm going to attend that memorial service Yelina, I don't wish to intrude but if you would like me to escort you?"

"That would be a kind and appreciated gesture Joseph. Umm, I don’t want to stick my nose into your private business but you know the ship's schedule is being delayed?"

"So I heard. I'm going to be OK, thanks to your advice. Spending much less than my daily budget. I've been thinking of the balance as a sort of reserve fund. Things are going to be pretty tense at home after this."

"I think that is something you can guarantee. Have you any plans to go to college or anything?'

Joseph shook his head. "My father insists I join the bank like he did. It’s secure, he says."

Yelina shuddered. "For my kind, it would be unadulterated hell. I'd rather be in a coma."

"I don't think there's much difference between working in bank and being in a coma, Yelina." Suddenly her words clicked in his mind. "Excuse my invasion of your privacy, but, your kind?"

"My family is originally Korean, they escaped to Russia when the Dark Ages started. We've mixed with the Russians since then so I'm half-Russian, half-Korean as best I can work it out. But, much more importantly, I'm all Wolfen."

"Oh WOW." Joseph's voice was awed. "I didn’t guess. I've never met a Wolfen before. Umm, after the memorial service, could we go out together for an evening?"

Yelina was slightly irritated. Why did everybody who met a Wolfen woman assume they were promiscuous. Because we are said a treacherous voice in the back of her head, prompted by the memory of her activities the night before. The voice was enough, she had no real cause to be annoyed and even if she had, it was her own fault. "Joseph, no offense meant but that wouldn't be a good idea. I'm too old for you. Look, what I will do is fly on your wing."

Joseph's face was a strange mixture. Offense at being told he was too young for Yelina, relief that she hadn't been offended by his approach and frustration that it had failed. "I'm sorry, fly on my wing?"

Yelina dropped her voice right down. "You stand a much better chance of making a successful pick-up if another woman introduces you as an old friend of hers. Can't promise it will work but it gets you off to a good start. See a girl you like?" Yelina watched carefully as Joseph's eyes slid sideways to a blonde girl getting a soda from the counter. "The blonde? Right. Stand by."

She got up and quietly stood close behind the girl. Sitting at the table, Joseph kicked himself for not realizing she was Wolfen earlier. The speed and slickness of her movements should have told him. The girl picked up her drink and turned around. As she did so, she bumped into Yelina, slopping the soda over the front of her coveralls. The girl's eyes widened in horror.

"Madam, my clumsiness and lack,,,,,," Joseph listened to the formal apology and Yelina's formal acceptance. Then Yelina added "….really, these are SAC coveralls, you could dump a bucket of used engine lubricant over me and it will wipe straight off. Look." She took a handful of paper towels and wiped the soda up. As she'd promised, there was not a trace left. Her coveralls weren't even wet. "Told you it’s nothing to worry about. Why don’t you join us? May I ask your name?"

"It's Tricia ma'am but everybody calls me Trish."

"And I'm Yelina, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, this is Joseph Vaisie. Joseph, meet Trish."

"An honor to meet you." Joseph rose and seated the two women, Trish first as was correct for a guest at his table.

"And you Joseph, are you here with your parents."

"Joseph has his own cabin Trish. I have to go and get ready for the memorial service this afternoon. Trish, Joseph very kindly offered to escort me to the memorial for Lady Heather this afternoon . Perhaps if we met here and you could walk me over to the Chapel, Joseph? Anyway, if you two would excuse me?"

She got up and left the two youngsters together. As she left, her enhanced hearing monitored the conversation. Trish had complained about the ship being so expensive and Joseph was repeating Yelina's comments about how to play Holland-America at their own game. As he did, Trish was leaning forward and her eyes were fixed on him. 'YES!' Yelina thought but carefully restrained herself from punching the air in triumph.

Ship's Chapel, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

The chapel was pleasant, small but well designed, its paintings and sculptures combining the symbols of the religions that were practiced here. Crosses for Christians, protestant and catholic, a Star of David for the Jews, Ganesa's head for the Hindus, a Bhudda image for those who followed that faith. Carefully blended so that those who looked for them would find them prominent but those who did not would not regard them as intrusive. There was even the clawed footprint of Fenris discreetly worked into the montage. One symbol was absent; nowhere in the chapel was there a crescent.

Outside the hatchway leading in, a group of chaplains had gathered, each would take part in the service, each according to his own beliefs. At one end of the line was a tall figure with a fur robe over his shoulders. An Alpha of Fenris in official regalia.

"Joseph, Trish, I'd like to speak with the Alpha for a few minutes. Why don't you two go inside and sit down."

They saw Yelina walk over to the Alpha and introduce herself. He reached out, took her hands and touched them to his cheeks, then the two of them went to a secluded bench, set in a small group of artificial trees to one side of the chapel, and sat together. Joseph saw Yelina's shoulders start to shake and realized she was crying. Suddenly, he was deeply embarrassed at seeing something she'd wanted to keep private. "Come on Trish let’s get inside and save a seat for Yelina.

The Chapel was cool and quiet. Joseph found a spot in the pews with room for the three of them and ushered Trish in first. She smiled at the treatment, then frowned slightly when she realized that Joseph had engineered it so he would be sitting between the two women in his party. Then, a gong sounded and an orange-clad priest knelt in front of the montage and started chanting a Buddhist prayer. The room went silent while he did so. Even so, Joseph was shocked by how quietly Yelina slipped in beside him. Then, the prayers finished, the low murmur of conversation started again.

"Are you OK, Yelina?" Joseph's voice showed his concern.

"Yes, thank you. I just needed to talk to somebody, get a few things off my mind. Sometimes a priest, an Alpha in our case, is the best choice."

"I thought the Fenris religion was a made-up one." Trish's voice was curious but the question caused a few heads to turn sharply. Criticizing somebody's religious beliefs could be construed a serious breach of courtesy. Trish saw the reaction and carried on hastily "No offense meant Yelina, I only know what our priest told us. I'd just like to learn more from somebody better informed."

"Fenris is a made-up religion, Trish but so are all the others at one level or another. Each is a series of stories, of legends and beliefs that are built around a code of values, of ethics. Religion is just one way of teaching and promoting those values and beliefs. If the Dark Ages taught us anything it’s that we all need something to support our code of values. A religion doesn’t have to be a belief in a god or gods or anything else, it is simply a way of explaining why we should treat others decently. Even the atheists are religious you know; they can't prove there is no god any more than I can prove that an immortal wolf called Fenris lives in a forest somewhere and watches over us. Just now I talked to a complete stranger about something very personal to me because I believed he was a good man who would help me. And, I was right.

"When we first started to appear, a lot of times we weren't allowed into churches or to take part in ceremonies. Some people thought we were werewolves or other abominations and shunned us. Where a church was the center of the community, that was a bad thing for us. So some of us found mention of the old Wolf-God Fenris and adopted him. The religion grew up around that old, resurrected belief and developed its own life. I suppose it is a made-up religion, one we invented because we weren't allowed into others but it suits our needs and teaches good lessons. Now, the service is about to begin." Despite Yelina’s best efforts, there had been a sharp overtone to the last few words and Trish realized that she had unwittingly given offense even if Yelina had dismissed it as unintentional.

It was, as Captain Olsen had promised, a non-denominational service, one that anybody could join in without concern. The last lesson was read by the Alpha of Fenris.

"When the wolf pack moves, the old, the sick, the females with young and the helpless cubs are in the center. The young wolves, male and female, form on the outside and protect the center. Thus they fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. This is the definition of a soldier, one who fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. As they protect others, Fenris looks down from his forest and remembers them. When they are in need of protection Fenris protects them. But beware those who oppress the weak, the sick and the helpless for Fenris remembers them too and bares his teeth when he does so. Thus speaks the first verse of the Lore of the Pack, the third chapter in the Book of Fenris

"We gathered here together in memory of twenty two men and women, the crew of the Lady Heather. They lost their lives exploring space for the betterment of all humans. They took risks so that others, less skilled, less capable than they would not have to. At the dawning of each day and each setting of the sun, we shall honor them for their sacrifice and vow that it will not have been in vain."

[Calder]

Chapter 10
Bridge, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

"Getting ready for first Transit now."

"Showgirl here. Ready to launch probe."

The outside view system swiveled to focus on Showgirl a few thousand yards to port. She was sitting still, her belly apparently distended by the open bomb bay doors.

"How does this go, Yelina?" The duty navigating officer's voice was affectionate and a little possessive. Soo found the first attractive, the second definitely not. In any case, this one had had his chance and been found wanting. But that was personal, this was business.

"Showgirl has one of our decoy drones ready to go. It's been modified so that it will transmit a warning message once it's through. She'll shoot it into the portal, hitting retrorockets just before the drone goes through. That way, it won't have the speed to climb the gravity gradient the other side and it'll come back though. If we've done it right, it should come back on an exact reciprocal of the course we sent it in on. When it re-appears, we'll give it a bit of boost, send it all the way up so we can snare it for reuse.

"If there's something the other side, waiting to come through, the drone will spot it and the message it transmits will warn the other ship off. If there's nothing there, we can go straight through. If we send the drone while another ship is coming through, the drone is so light that the collision won't be fatal. We hope. Hey, here we go."

There was a burst of flame from under Showgirl and a drone detached from the launching rack, heading for the portal. It coasted closer, then started to accelerate as the portal's gravity field grabbed hold of it and sucked it down. There was another brief flare as the retro-system cut in then the drone vanished. Soo started counting seconds, mentally imagining the drone appearing on the other side of the portal and started its climb out. It wouldn't make it, the retro burst had made sure it had run out of steam a little short of the well edge. It should be sliding back about …. now. Showgirl was already turning around, ready to make the catch.

Right on schedule, the drone popped through the portal and started to climb the gravity gradient this side. There was a quick flare as its booster cut in, giving the extra push needed to take it out of the portal's gravity. It passed just underneath Showgirl and the big bomber started to move ahead and down to snare it.

"Hyperion, this is Showgirl. You're clear to go. Belladonna will go first. You follow her as soon as she transits. We'll follow you when we've made the catch and closed our bay."

"Very good, Showgirl." Belladonna was already accelerating into the gravity well. As soon as she blinked from sight, Hyperion urged forward. Used to watching a transition through her DSB-36s front shield, Soo found the sight on Hyperion scanners strangely upsetting, the detail was there but the field of vision wasn't. Traditionals probably didn’t notice but Wolfen, with their enhanced peripheral vision, did. Then, as quietly and as undramatically as ever, the starfield changed. They were through the portal. Soo guessed that probably not one in a hundred of the passengers even knew they had just left Sol and were now in Gamma Draconis. Behind them, Showgirl appeared through the portal, her bomb-bay closed and secured.

"Nice catch Showgirl. Yelina, do you do that often?" Captain Olsen's voice was respectful, he recognized a thoroughly professional performance when he saw it.

"Often enough, those drones are supposed to be expendable but we don't carry that many so each one we catch is a bonus. Anyway, it’s a good way of training the cockpit crew to fly accurately, and we've got a newbie in the cockpit over there. My guess is that my usual partner flew that one though, it had Tony's touch about it."

"Are we going through that drill every jump from now on?"

Soo thought for a second. "This flight certainly. Hyperion is too valuable and there are too many people on board to take risks. My guess is that we'll see you through to Tau Ceti and then backtrack to go where we have to. I doubt if this will be standard procedure though, we just don’t have the crews to escort every ship like this." Soo knew the maths, there were ten strategic reconnaissance groups. They had 720 DSB-36s in all. That sounded a lot but they had too much on their plates already. Two birds to escort every civilian spaceship just wasn't on.

"The Brainiacs will have to find another solution. Scheduling perhaps or develop a very cheap expendable that can be tossed through. We'll have to do something though, the Interstellars are getting to be quite busy.

"Yelina, are you doing anything this evening."

It was another member of the navigation crew. Number six she thought contentedly. "As it happens no, Hans. Would you like to buy a girl a drink? 1830 in the cocktail lounge?"

"Business only on the bridge please." Captain Olsen's voice was firm. In his eyes, the bridge crew were responsible for the safety of the ship and everybody on board. Professional conversation was one thing, social exchanges, an undesirable distraction. Soo nodded an acknowledgement and apology, each Captain had his own bridge rules and they should be respected. "We're locking on to the next navigation beacon now. We'll making our transit for Alpha Eridani in 27 hours."

Soo looked surprised. She was used to the accelerations and maneuvering of SACs bombers, not the staid and leisurely progress of the liner. Still, this gave her time to enjoy the flight.

Swimming Pool, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

Swimming underwater had a curious property to it. Looking up at the surface, where the water from the fountain was splashing as it descended, Joseph Vaisie got the strange feeling that if he surfaced into those splashes, he'd get wet. Just to rid himself of the absurd and illogical sensation, he surfaced and stood under the shower, rubbing the water into his face and hair. Then he felt to strong hands grabbing his ankles and lifting. He turned it into a semi-somersault, vanished under the water and surfaced again, spluttering. Yelina was standing where he'd been, hands on hips and laughing.

"Hello Joseph. Enjoying your swim?"

"Why yes, thank you. Aren't you on the bridge? I thought we were making a transit today?"

"We've already made it, we went through the portal three hours ago. We're in Gamma Draconis now. This time tomorrow we'll be making another transit, to Alpha Eridani. Then it’s a two-day haul to the cluster of portals where 881 and 882 split off from 80. Got news before I left the bridge, we'll be following you to Tau Ceti, then backtracking on our own mission."

"Hello Yelina." It was Joseph's new friend Trish.

"Hi, Trish. Enjoying the pool?"

"Oh yes, thank you, Yelina. We've been down here for hours." Yelina smiled at how elegantly she'd staked her claim on Joseph. She looked at the younger girl's swimsuit with a certain degree of surprise. Yelina's was three small triangles of black leather, held in place more by pious wish than the thin straps that joined them. Trish's was almost prudishly modest by comparison, a white, one-piece suit with a high neckline and cut low over the hips. Then Yelina took a closer look.

"Oh my. That's Shimmerskin, isn't it."

Trish nodded proudly the dipped under the water. As she came up, she shook herself so the water sprayed around her in a fine curtain of drops. Suddenly, the swimsuit and the drops burst into a dazzling array of colors, the light reflecting and refracting so the girl looked as if she was standing in the center of a rotating rainbow of color. There were gasps from the people around them, some in awe, a few of jealousy. Then, the moment was gone, the spray of water fell and, once again there was just a teenage girl in a modest swimsuit.

"Trish, I've never seen anything quite that beautiful. You're very lucky."

"And very hungry. You must be more so if you've been on duty for the transit. Let's get something to eat before the breakfast buffet closes. Trish took Joseph's arm and started to steer him towards the edge of the pool. Yelina stopped for a second and picked up her robe from where she'd left it. As she did, Trish dropped back a second.

"Yelina, please excuse the rudeness and intrusion into your personal business, but very revealing swimsuits like yours, they're a bit out of style now you know."

"I know, but I very rarely get to use a swimming pool and a Lieutenant's pay isn't princely. So I didn't bother to replace it. I prefer to spend my clothes budget on other things." She leaned over and whispered into the girl's ear. Trish's eyes widened and she burst out into slightly shocked giggles. "Not for publication, Trish."

The girl nodded but kept bursting into snorting giggles as they collected their food. After Joseph had seated the two women at his table, there was a few minutes companionable silence as they managed to quell the most urgent demands of their digestions.

"Yelina." Joseph interrupted his comment with a satisfied sigh. The fried ham here really was excellent. "You say we'll be in transit between portals for two days at Alpha Eridani?"

"That's right. It's a long haul, unusually long. Mostly it’s just a couple of hours."

"Well, Trish and I were talking earlier. It’s my birthday the day we jump for Tau Ceti. I was going to take Trish out for a birthday dinner. Would you like to come with us. We'll finish early so if you've got an appointment for the rest of the night......"

That was a polite way of putting it, Yelina thought. Good for Joseph. "Duty schedules permitting, I'd love to Joseph, spending the evening in the company of you both will be most agreeable. Thank you very much for your kind and most generous invitation."

"No, it is we who are honored by your acceptance."

I wonder, Yelina thought, if you've considered all the aspects of this one. Your parents will be expecting you to spend your birthday with them. Even if they haven't seen you since launch, they'll be expecting that. If they see you preferring the company of two strange women to theirs, the evening has potential for some interesting outcomes.

Still, it was Joseph's business. If he'd done the maths and could afford the bill, it was his decision who shared his table. It was just that she couldn't help wondering if he'd realized the bill for this little party might not all be due in cash.

Strategic Air Command Headquarters, Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska.

"I'm beginning to wonder if the whole idea behind the designated Interstellar Highway system was misguided."

"How so Sir?"

"It sounded fine when we started. Take the largest portals leading to the most useful star systems and link them in the most efficient manner. Then mark them with navigational beacons and that makes getting around easy. Only, its concentrating all the traffic into a few preferred routes. The result was the Lady Heather disaster. In some ways we were lucky with that, the Nostromo was only a minimally manned freighter. Can you imagine what would have happened if it had been a couple of full liners? Ten thousand people on each?"

General Kozlowski drummed his fingers on his desk, a historical relic that had depressions where generations of SAC commanders had done the same thing when faced with knotty problems. Sometimes, when the job started to get on top of him, he could feel the ghostly presence of the desk's first owner watching over his shoulder. The desk's first owner. Or was it perhaps the other way around, did the desk own the man? Was the desk some form of living creature that took over the minds of those who sat behind it? Kozlowski shook his head, that wasn't even a reasonable train of thought.

"General, Sir, I don’t think we can write off the Interstellar system. It's a good idea, it helps in navigation and it concentrates trade onto routes where it can be watched and defended. It’s like any other traffic system Sir, what we need are traffic lights to control movements through the choke points. It's easy enough to organize, we already have navigation beacons in orbit around the portals. All we have to do is to equip them with clocks and transmitters that send a go/no-go signal to passing ships. It's simple really, ship approaches and contacts the navigation buoy. If it's in a set period, the ship is allowed to go through, if its outside that period, ships coming the other way have priority. We can match the period duration related to traffic density, how we'd do that is beyond me Sir, I'm making this up as I go along, but that's something we can clean up later.

Kozlowski nodded. Colonel Dahm had come up with something that could work. "Suppose the timers either side drift? Even atomic clocks aren't always that stable."

"That's easy Sir. Give each of the ships using the portals a sealed black box. One that alerts the navigation buoy to the ship's approach. Then just before the ship goes through the portal it takes the timing signal of one satellite and compares it to the timing signal from the box on the ship and, if there's a discrepancy, adjusts the latter. Then, after the ship has gone through, the box and satellite do the same thing in reverse. There would also have to be a safety zone, like an amber light, where nobody could use the portal from either side. That would pretty much eliminate the risk. Oh yes, and once in a while we have a SAC bomber sitting one side so if anybody ignores the navigation buoy instructions, they get a few mass driver bolts shooting their engines off.

Kozlowski felt one of the ghostly images that he sometimes imagined haunting this office nodding vigorously. "A bit radical Colonel, I'm sure we can stop short of shooting their engines off but your heart is in the right place. What about military flights? We can't hold up military operations just because the traffic lights are red."

"Transit flights are no problem Sir. They can wait as long as necessary. We're not talking long delays here, a few minutes at most. In fact, if we publish the schedules for each portal, ships should be able to navigate so they can go straight through. Sir, if a navigator can't manipulate his arrival time to compensate for a few minutes delay, he shouldn't be navigating. Especially on our bombers.

"If it’s an emergency, well, our DSBs are firing drones through the portals while we speak. We can use the same idea, just fire a drone through that resets the clocks both sides. Allows our flights to go straight through and defaults back to normal operations once we're through. If it’s a real, real emergency, the flight just goes straight through. The risk isn't that great and we can require any crews who use that procedure – or fire the reset drones – to submit a full report on why they did so. We'll probably have to make an example out of somebody, send them to the research station on Sedna perhaps, but once the procedure's established."

"Very good Colonel, write up that proposal, get a list together of what equipment would be needed and we'll get the ball rolling. It may be best to give the job of running the system to Planetary Defense rather than take it on ourselves; make maintenance and enforcement the responsibility of each system rather than centrally. Good work. Now, how's the rest of our operations?"

"Most of the available DSBs are escorting high value ships Sir, we need to get our new system up and running fast. Everything else is more or less on hold until we solve this one. The colonist team we had ready for 18 Scorpii is on its way to Tau Ceti instead. The colonists already there want the southern continent opened up quickly so the Ozwalds are using the job as a sort of field exercise to shake down before they get a planet of their own. Speaking of 18 Scorpii Sir, SEAL Teams Two and Three have been pulled from the planet and are doing R&R on the space station there, Still quarantined but it’s a formality. We have research teams on the surface exploring caves. We've found six more that have cave paintings in them. We've also found bones and other remains in there. I've got a picture Sir."

Dahm dug through the file and produced a head-and-shoulders drawing of one of the 18 Scorpii natives. It was achingly humanlike, two eyes at the front of the head, something that looked like ears at the side. "Sad isn’t it sir, they look just like some of the older fossils we found on earth. Eyes are different of course, 18 Scorpii isn't quite like the sun, but they’re so close."

"They'd have to be similar some ways I suppose. Two eyes for binocular vision and ranging. Ears at the side for directional hearing."

"The portals in 18 Scorpii all look very encouraging Sir, all with relatively gentle gradients and wide apertures. As soon as the transport problem eases up we can start diving them and see where they go. By the way, Sir, an idea that's been floating around I think we might like to look at again. Some of these portals that lead out into interstellar space. We might think of building space stations at the end of some of those. It might be worthwhile having some bases that aren't so easy to find."

"Perhaps. Colonel, you know what to do."

"Yes Sir, write it up and circulate."

[Calder]

Chapter 11
Roman Palace Restaurant, Holland-America Liner "Hyperion"

"That was good. Joseph, thank you very much, I has been a long time since I enjoyed a meal more. How did you find this place?"

"I did what you suggested Yelina, I walked around the ship and explored a bit. I thought that if the bowling alley had a fast food place, other recreation areas might. Did you know there is a Pizza-Dacha place on board? Then, over the last couple of days Trish and I went over her again, top to bottom. You're quite right, it’s amazing what’s on board that they don’t tell you about. Oh, it’s there if somebody looks but they only call attention to the really expensive stuff. Trish and I found this place yesterday and we were looking at the menu. The hostess gave us a voucher, buy two meals get a third free." Joseph suddenly flushed as he realized what he'd said.

Yelina smiled gently, easing away her host’s embarrassment. "That's great. This place really is good too. One of the navigation crew took me to the Trocadero last night. Nowhere near as good as this. The genuine Roman menus are a nice touch as well. You know, we've got a lot to thank the Daimones for."

"Have you ever met a Daimones, Yelina." Trish's voice was almost urgent. "Sometimes I lie awake hoping I'll turn out to be one."

"Couple of times. We gave Igrat a ride once and I even met Suriyothai. We were delivering some DSB-36s to the Triple Alliance to equip their strategic reconnaissance wing and she was heading the delegation at the delivery ceremony. They're not like us though, there's no way anyone can see who they are. If we want to identify ourselves, we just show our teeth or twitch our ears."

"Twitch your ears?" Trish's voice was incredulous and envious. Yelina grinned, looked at the teenager and, suddenly, her ears flicked forward about half an inch. "Yelina, I never knew that. It’s so great. I wish I could do it."

"You can; all humans can, it’s just you don’t know how. If you get a mirror and are patient you can teach yourself how to do it. All the muscles and nerves are there. The only difference is for some reason we were born knowing how."

"You going to have a desert Yelina?" Joseph was running his finger down the desert list. Unlike the Trocadero and the other really expensive places, the Roman Palace had a short menu. Thinking about it, he guessed that was why the food was good; the staff spent all their time doing a few things they knew well rather than attempting to fill a pages-long menu. "I'm going to try their almond cake. Apparently its 'a modern interpretation of a classical Roman dish, recreated from a recipe saved by Messalina herself'. If the dish is as good as the picture suggests…"

"Are they ever Joey?" Trish's voice was comically regretful. All three burst out laughing, every one of them had noted how the food served in a restaurant never looked quite as appetizing as the pictures in the menu. "Still, it does look good."

"Two Imperial Almond Delights then." The waiter's voice was also amused. "And for your good self, ma'am?"

"Lemon sorbet please. And would it be possible to have some fresh lemon juice poured over it?"

"Ma'am, if I may be so bold, we do a special desert for Wolfen. It’s a fresh-squeezed, unsweetened lime juice sorbet served with a puree of fresh lemons and limes. Not a trace of sweetener in it."

"That sounds wonderful. Please bring it on."

"Very good, I'll bring them out immediately."

Trish looked around. "You know, this place is filling up quickly. They must be relieved."

"Restaurants are a chancy business. The banks are reluctant to finance them because the failure rate is so high, about 90 percent I think. They all do well to start with, the catch is whether they can hold their clients. Most don't, they come for a few weeks, then go away as soon as another place opens. The smart thing is to start the business and then sell it as a going concern while it’s still apparently doing well." Joseph looked at his companions. Both were staring at him with raised eyebrows. "Hey. My father's been in banking all my life. And he talks about his work all the time. Oh no."

"Sorry? A problem?"

"Could be, my parents and my younger sister have just walked in."

At that point the waiter returned with their desserts. Joseph had already handed over his debit card, something that had slightly surprised the cashier who had assumed Yelina was paying. It was returned to him, the meal paid for and a substantial balance still left. Yelina was impressed, Joseph had picked up the art of playing the economy game very quickly. The her enhanced hearing picked up the voice of Joseph's sister, speaking with all the delight of a young girl, dropping her elder brother into trouble. "Look daddy, Joseph's sitting over there."

For a moment, Yelina thought that the unfortunate coincidence would simply blow over but it wasn't to be. Arnold Vaisie saw his son sitting over at the table and started to stalk over. Whether he thought it was deliberate defiance on his son's part or whether he was still smarting from the earlier confrontation she didn't know, but she'd been in enough fights to know that he was determined to have one here.

"What are you doing here? You should be with us. Get over to our table now." His eyes swung to Yelina. "Couldn't you find somebody your own age to fleece?"

A gasp ran around the room. Yelina and Joseph both rose, Yelina fast enough to knock her seat over backwards. As a result she was able to cut in front of Joseph and get her challenge in first.

"I would make myself known to you. Yelina Soo, Lieutenant, Strategic Air Command. And I find your insinuation offensive. Joseph, my privilege." She smiled, a full-lipped open smile that exposed her teeth. Again a gasp and a ripple of comments ran around the room. Yelina’s acute hearing picked out the choice ones.

"She's Wolfen! This should be good."

"God help him, he's dead!"

“Serves him right, the foul mannered oaf."

“He must be drunk."

Joseph looked at the confrontation and suddenly realized he was at a crossroads in his life. He could see the paths stretching out before him as clearly as if they were lines on a map. Backing down now meant that he would always be in his father's shadow, a cipher doing what his father wanted and when. He'd be a nothing, he'd have let down the people who had befriended him, betrayed the girl who had trusted him. On the other hand, refusing to allow the insults to remain unchallenged meant whatever happened, his defiance of his father wouldn't be accepted. He'd be out, thrown onto his own resources. Suddenly, he realized that wasn’t an unwelcome prospect. At least that meant he would be standing on his own feet at last. And he'd have kept faith. He looked at Trish watching him and realized she too was watching him, seeing how he would react. He could not, would not, disappoint her.

"No, Yelina. This man has insulted my guests at my table. The privilege is mine." His voice rang out, clear and proud. Yet another ripple ran around the room, this one of approval. There was even a slight patter of applause that made Joseph feel slightly less terrified of the decisions he was making. Arnold Vaisie's face was beginning to show confusion. He'd expected to drag a recalcitrant boy back into line, now he was faced with a young man prepared to defend his honor. And that young man was being backed up by a friend who gave every appearance of being very dangerous indeed. Suddenly he felt his sweat go cold. Icy cold.

Joeseph’s voice was still clear and measured. "Sir, you will apologize to my guests and leave. Or I will demand you stand by your words."

“You demand? You little brat. You'll do as you're told, when you are told." Arnold Vaisie still did not realize how often he repeated those words or how they alienated everybody in earshot.

"Sir, you have given offense and refuse to stand behind your words. I name you coward and pacifist." Probably only Yelina's unusually acute hearing picked up the tremor in Joseph's voice. The kid was scared stiff but he'd dug his heels in and he was not going to back down. Good for him Yelina thought. Some unavoidable lessons are painful. The rest of the room didn't see that; they saw a young man standing on his rights and, although at an obvious disadvantage, declining the opportunity to shelter behind somebody else. They approved and the patter of applause that followed was much stronger.

Once again, Arnold Vaisie looked at the person standing before him and suddenly realized he didn’t recognize him. Sometime over the last week, his son had grown up. He felt anger surge. He was the head of the family, it was his right to say what happened and when. Then another voice cut in on him, a voice roughened by open-air living and layered with a cultured Australian accent. "I would make myself known to you. Colonization Team Leader Shane. Your foul manners and offensive behavior have spoiled my enjoyment of my meal and upset the ladies of my party." The man was big, and none of the bulges were fat. "Son, your privilege. And yours too, Lieutenant. If I can just have anything that you two leave unbroken?"

"That will be agreeable to me, Colonization Team Leader." Yelina's voice was smooth and as deadly as the hiss of a bayonet being drawn from its scabbard. Already she was feeling the thrill of an impending fight running through her and she tried to batter it down. The best thing for everybody is for this to end peacefully. With a little luck, this added challenge might make Joseph’s father back down. She was under no illusions, if this came to a fight, Joseph was going to get badly hurt. He didn't have the weight, the skill or the maturity to fight a grown adult. Yelina had already made her decisions for that eventuality. If comes to a fight and Joe gets badly hurt, I am going to leave his father a paraplegic by way of retaliation. It won’t take much, a single sharp blow with the heel of the hand at the right point on his spine. The thought shocked her, that outcome could get her into serious trouble and she couldn’t understand why Arnold Vaisie’s behavior had made her so angry. "And for you Joseph?"

"Yes, Yelina, Colonization Team Leader."

Arnold Vaisie looked around the room. Dead still, no sympathy for him anywhere and the expressions of almost every person showed they wanted to see him lose. Then the stillness broke, a group of people pushed into the room. With a degree of relief that ran quite counter to her nature, Yelina recognized Brian Nightwatch, the Ship's Purser and knew that the crisis was over. With him was a very tall Sikh in the resplendent uniform of the ship's Master at Arms. And with him were four less ornately-uniformed men, ones whose appearance suggested they were fully capable of ending any fight. Yelina looked curiously at them and, on instinct, quickly twitched her ears. Two of the men grinned back at her and responded in kind. Fellow Wolfen. That makes sense. Security detachment is something we’re good at.

"There is a problem here gentlemen?" The Purser's voice had its usual authority. He looked at the protagonists and only Yelina caught the look of disgust on his face when he saw Arnold Vaisie. He knows what just happened without being told. The Master at Arms was already moving around the room, speaking with the other people present. It wasn't taking long, all the stories were the same and most of them could be summarized as "what he (or she) said". Eventually the Master at Arms came to Yelina. Her head was barely level with his chest and she found herself asking “Just how tall are you?”

"Seven foot two, Lieutenant. Have you anything to add?" Yelina didn't, she'd heard the other statements and they'd described what had happened perfectly. "No, Master at Arms. The others have already covered everything." The Sikh nodded and went over to speak with the Purser. For once Yelina couldn't catch what was being discussed, they both knew Wolfen were present and had dropped their voices accordingly.

"Arnold Vaisie." The Master At Arm's voice was quiet yet carried around the room as if it was booming. "Two of my assistants will escort you, your wife and daughter back to your cabin. You will remain there until we enter Tau Ceti orbit. At which point, you will be escorted from the ship and your conduct reported to the Colony authorities. Your wife and daughter are, of course, free to enjoy the remainder of the trip unrestricted."

Arnold Vaisie went brilliant red with rage but he had no options. He knew very well he could either walk out or be dragged out – and the latter meant a ship's disciplinary hearing for assaulting an officer. He stomped out, tossing a "Don't ever bother to come back to me, boy" over his shoulder as he left.

"Joseph Vaisie, Lieutenant Soo, you both have standing as the aggrieved parties in this matter and you both have a right to demand Arnold Vaisie be held responsible for his words. However, on behalf of Captain Olsen, I ask that you both waive privilege at this time and let the matter drop. Colonization Team Leader, I do not think you have standing in this matter although your assistance is appreciated.

"Fair does, mate." The Colonization Team leader returned to his table. Joseph was looking confused, he didn't know what to do next.

"That wasn't a request Joseph." Yelina's voice was quiet. "In circumstances like this, an order is customarily phrased as a request but it’s an order nonetheless. Master at Arms? I waive privilege in this matter." Joseph had gone white with delayed shock but he nodded agreement.

"Sir, Lieutenant, thank you both."

Trish looked around the room "Well, that was better than a floor show wasn't it!" There was an eruption of laughter as the tension was released. Then she put her head on Joseph's shoulder. "Darling, you were wonderful. Thank you for championing me." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. The gesture won her a ripple of respectful applause. Watching her, Yelina was jealous. There was sincere affection in Trish’s kiss and she was all too aware that sincerity was something her own amorous adventures usually lacked.

"And I, Joseph." Yelina's voice was dry. She didn't add even if in doing so you were going to get hurt and I'd have to flatten the moron anyway. But the thought was there and it had much to do with her tinge of jealousy. Then, she had an epiphany. Her friendship for this young couple had the sincerity that her amorous exploits did not. That was why she valued it as much as she did. It filled a gap in her life she had never known existed before.

"How are you doing son?" The Purser's question was directed to Joseph.

"I'm still shaking, to be honest Sir. But I haven't let you down, look." He pressed the symbol on his debit card and the account balance flashed up.

The Purser nodded. "That's good. Shows good budgeting and prudence. Then he looked at Yelina accusingly "And some expert, nay military, advice on how to work the system if I'm not mistaken."

Yelina sighed sadly. "What can I say Brian, I'm such a bad, bad girl. We’ll have to talk about that." The Purser laughed, winked at her and left. As he did so, one of the couples leaving the restaurant went out of their way to stop at Joseph's table. The man shook Joseph’s hand while his partner gave Trish a quick hug. They both gave a polite nod to Yelina, more for her SAC membership than anything else but it was Joe and Trish who had earned their respect. Yelina agreed with them. "I think we need a drink after that. On me, I won’t take any arguments Joseph, you deserve it. Trish, what's your preference?"

Their drinks arrived, Joseph hadn't known what to order, he'd never drunk spirits before. Yelina got him a brandy, it was a safe start. Trish had preferred coffee liquor while Yelina had ordered her favorite pepper vodka. "Well, Joseph, what are you going to do now? Any thoughts on where to go and what to do?"

“Well, I suppose a career in the bank is out. Yelina, could I enlist in SAC?”

“Perhaps. But, you’re not old enough to enlist yet. You’ve got a year or two to fill first.” Yelina’s comment caused Joseph to look dismayed.

"Joseph, ladies, if I might ask the privilege of intruding on your privacy? I have a suggestion that may solve that problem."

"Please join us, Sir. I am indebted to you for your offer of assistance." Joseph seemed depressed, not least as a result of the aftermath of the incident.

"Thank you. Allow me to introduce myself; I am the leader of a colonization team heading for Tau Ceti. We are going to be opening up the southern continent there. It’s a bit of an anti-climax, we were being readied to open up 18 Scorpii but that planet was a bust. We've taken a contract to open up Tau Ceti south while we wait for the next planet to become available. It’s a bit of a cake walk but it gives us a chance to brush up on skills and train a few new people. I liked the way you stood up for yourself and your guests just now. If you want to join us, the invitation is open. I won’t lie to you, you'll be unskilled labor at first and for quite a time after that. You'll be digging ditches and planning seed, backbreaking work. And as a trainee, you'll be on a wage, you won't get to share the bounty for establishing a viable settlement. The good news is, when we do get to open up a new Planet, you'll be part of the team. Share in the bounty and pick of the land grants. And you'll be a First Settler. Want in?"

Joseph looked back at the big Australian. A few minutes before he had been desperate, feeling lost and abandoned. Suddenly this chance opened before him. To be a First Settler meant land grants of a size and quality other, later settlers could only dream of. It meant cities and towns named after him. It meant being a founding father and always remembered as such. Above all, he realized it was what he wanted to do. "You bet, Sir. Where do I sign."

"First lesson, a man who'll lie in words will do so on paper. On a Colonization Team, your handshake is good enough.” Shane offered his hand. Joseph took it and they solemnly shook on the deal.

"Sir, is there space for me also?" Trish's voice was shaky, frightened.

"How old are you Miss?"

"Seventeen." The Colonization Leader looked at her doubtfully. "In two months time."

"You'll need your father's permission. Joseph here's been publicly disowned so there's no problem but, unless you're in the same boat, we’ll have to see him. And what I said goes for you to. Start at the bottom, scrub nurse, washing dishes, doing the laundry. Doing it the old way, no machines to look after it for you."

"That's OK Sir, my family is going out to Tau Ceti to work in the capital so we can qualify to homestead later when our land is ready. I can't think of a better way to learn homesteading but I want more than that, I want to be a First Settler as well."

"Fair does then. Assuming your father agrees, if you make it, you stay with us. If you don't, your family will be a lot better off for the skills you'll have learned from us. Let’s go and see your father."

Two hours and a pleasant conversation with an impressed father later, Shane's colonization team had two new recruits.

[Calder]

Chapter 12
Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Approaching Exit One, Interstellar 881

"Welcome back Yelina. How was your 'temporary assignment'?"

Yelina Soo slipped into her traditional right-hand seat. It felt odd slightly, as if it wasn't quite fitting her the way it usually did. That was foolish of course, the relief crew used it as well as the newbie Williams had been training so it wasn't even really 'hers'. Still, it did feel odd. "I had a wonderful time thank you Tony. I can't tell you how grateful I am. How's things going here?"

"Pretty much as usual. We've got a heavy load-out on board. Six Hibex missiles, 350 kilotons each, two 5 megaton gravity bombs, six drones, five now, we lost one, and a full ECM and missile defense kit. We aren't carrying as much fuel as usual, our bomb bay auxiliary tanks are the smaller ones."

"Five megatons? We've never had those on board before. What gives."

Williams never got a chance to answer. Suddenly, there was a loud whooping noise from the speakers and the flight deck lights started flashing red. Soo's seat gave a thump and the front erupted, a pressure suit spilling out of its container underneath. That was why her seat had felt odd, the safety system had been fully activated and it had probably fired and restowed a few times. She didn't waste time thinking about it, even as the suit unfolded, she pulled her legs up and thrust them forward into the moving mass that formed the lower half of the suit. As her toes found themselves entering the feet part of the suit, her arms were already flying backwards, finding the sleeves and pushing her hands deep down into the gloves that ended them. Almost in the same motion, her suited arms swept forward and grabbed the fastening strip that sealed the front of the suit. The same swing grabbed the helmet that was swinging up from its container behind her seat and pulled it down over her head. Sealed and locked. 25 seconds. Five seconds within the stipulated time.

Her eyes flicked over the damage control display, the manned sections of the ship were quickly blue-shadowing as the crews reported that they were in full pressure suites. Only when that was done did she glance around the cockpit. Williams was already suited up and so, to her surprise, was Captain Newman. So this wasn't an exercise?

"What gives guys? We're carrying five megatonners and three times the usual number of Hibexes. And we're having pressure loss exercises?" She saw Williams wincing slightly.

"You've been around sloppy civilians too long. Lieutenant. An alert officer would have noted that wasn't a pressure loss exercise, that was sounding for General Quarters. You've earned yourself a demerit." The Captain's voice didn’t have any humor in it at all. "And I want you to practice suiting up. I know you're five seconds under the qualifying time but that isn’t good enough. I want you into that suit in 20 seconds or less. Now, we'll complete this watch under General Quarters conditions. Full EMCON, all battle stations manned and ready, all crew members in full pressure suits." As if to mark his words, the bridge lights went out completely. All that was left was a dim glow from the displays on the control panels. "If there are any developments, call me."

Newman left, leaving Soo feeling bewildered and slightly aggrieved. "Right Tony, try again. What's going on?"

"Its 18 Scorpii, Yelina. The brainiacs still aren't convinced that what happened to the planet was a natural disaster. There's some that say the odds against a series of hits like that are too high for a natural event. It was us tossing drones through portals that caused the controversy. The plugholes in 18 Scorpii are very shallow gradients and large apertures, somebody argued if we can toss drones through, somebody else could toss an asteroid. And you know the way it works. Something coming out of a portal has the same speed and course vectors as it had when it went in. So toss something in fast, it comes out fast and can be aimed like a rifle."

"I thought the planet was hit by a comet that got disrupted by gravity from the 5th planet."

"That's the majority opinion but there's a substantial minority that claims whatever hit Mossberg came through a portal."

"Any sign of that the other side?"

"Nobody's been through yet. The plugholes were mapped with drones but nobody's followed through. The Lady Heather loss really messed things up. For a while, nobody was sure whether it was an accident or whether she'd been hit by something hostile. It was almost a relief when we identified Nostromo. But, the portal through to Beta Herculis is still blocked with wreckage. It’s orbiting around and oscillating through the portal and nobody's quite sure how best to clear it.

"Anyway, the alert status is well up and we're flying the odd watch in full General Quarters conditions, Diving the plugholes in 18 Scorpii is going to be our job and we'll be doing that at General Quarters as well. Just to make matters more threatening, we've got reinforced back-up. We're meeting up with Cara Mia and Dark Angel to start plughole diving and the bosses want us to be able to handle anything we run into. You think we're armed? Belladonna has a 27 megaton city-buster on board. "

"You're kidding!"

"Honest Yelina, a 27 megaton device. Just in case we run into something that really needs cracking open."

Soo thought that one over while her eyes continued scanning the dim displays. From outside, Showgirl would be almost invisible. Her metal-ceramic alloy skin, layered over the depleted uranium mesh of her primary armor, was quickly matching temperature to the surroundings and Showgirl’s dark gray paint was a good match for the background of space. EMCON, emission control, was in full force and she wasn't transmitting anything. All her sensors were set to passive and they reached out into space, a fine electronic web to snare anything that made its presence known. She leaned forward and felt herself starting to float. Cursing, she conceded the Captain was right, too much time on Hyperion had made her used to unnecessary luxuries like gravity. Soo reached underneath her and pulled out the seat safety harness, looping the straps over her shoulders and around her thighs and waist. Then the buckle clipped into place and that was that.

"You strapped down OK Yelina?"

She looked over at her partner in the darkness of the blacked-out cockpit. Under his helmet he was looking smug. Time to tease him a little. "Tony, if you think this is being strapped down, you should have seen me last night."

Settler Assembly Area, Safe Haven, Tau Ceti Colony.

"You must be the two Joeys?" The two teenagers looked confused. "Joeys, new recruits, haven't had any training yet. I'm Zebadiah Smeaton, everybody calls me Zed. You're Joe and Trish?"

"That's right Zed, honored to meet you."

"You might not think so in a week or two. I've been assigned as your instructor. Sort of combined mentor, guardian, confidante, priest and worst imaginable nightmare. Let's start, these your luggage?" The two nodded, "Right then, open them up, let’s have a look."

Joseph and Trish opened their suitcases. Zed looked through the contents shaking his head sadly. As he did, Trish went crimson, she hadn't expected a man to be rooting through her intimate possessions. Zed addressed her first, his voice firm but not unkind. There was even a little sympathy there.

"Look, these are all very nice and I'm sure you look real fine in them, but they’re useless for where you’re going. They'll be worn out in a few days. You're going to be doing hard physical work in dirt and scrub. These." He pulled out a pair of thong panties "will be cutting you in half after a few hours digging. Chuck the lot, ask one of the older women to take you to the commissariat and help you pick replacements. Same goes for you Joe, only I'll take you myself. You need solid boots and clothes that'll take a battering and clean easy. And ones that'll shield you from the sun. These baseball caps are all very nice but you need broad brims to shield your eyes from glare and your skin from UV.

"Right, what’s the most important tool a colonist has?"

"A spade?" Joseph's guess was based on all the talk he'd heard of digging.

"Eyes and ears?" Trish was trying to be clever and almost succeeded.

"Not so bad Trish, and your guess is pretty good as well Joe. Both wrong though. It’s this." Zed reached into a bag and produced a vicious-looking weapon that looked like a sawn-off shotgun. That's exactly what it was, a double-barrelled sawn-off shotgun with its stock cut down to a pistol grip. The brutal looking thing was barely more than a foot long.

"This is an Armsport Snake Pistol. You never go anywhere without it. I mean nowhere, you eat with it sleep with it, work with it. You'll have other tools, a machete, walkie-talkie a whole beltful, but this is the one that'll save your life. You know what this is?" He produced a picture of what looked like an insect, or a snake, or a demented combination of both. Body of a snake, legs like an insect, the curved tail of a scorpion and claws like a lobster.

"It’s a yellowbelly." Joe's voice had a slight shudder. The wildlife instructors had described the Yellowbelly was Tau Ceti's second most dangerous predator, aggressive, tenacious and very, very poisonous. No known antidote to its venom. Getting caught by one meant, at best, months of painful recovery in hospital. More likely, a slow, agonizing death.

"Right, a Yellowbelly. You see one of these, you blast it, both barrels. Then what do you do?"

"Make sure it’s dead?" Trish's voice was as horrified by the monster as Joseph's.

"Going to pick it up to make sure? That sting in the tail will get you."

Joseph couldn't stop himself. "Zed, that's wrong. The yellowbelly doesn't have a sting in its tail, the poison is in its claws, they're like hundreds of snake fangs."

Zed looked at him. "And what two important lessons have we just learned Joe?"

Joseph shook his head confused.

"Less important one first. Just because something looks like a critter from Earth doesn't mean it shows the same threats. A curved tail like a scorpion doesn't mean a sting like a scorpion. Corollary to that, because this is Tau Ceti doesn't mean that something that looks like an Earth threat isn't one. That tail could contain a sting, it just that in this case it doesn't. Second lesson and this is the really important one. When somebody makes a mistake, you speak up right then. There are four possible situations. First is you're right and he's wrong, that means you've probably just saved his life. Second, he's right and you're wrong, which means you'll be put right which will save your life. Third, you're both right which means no harm is done. Fourth, your both wrong and that means speaking up has saved both your lives and possibly exposed a teaching fault that could endanger other people. So speak up. If there's a downside,
I don't see it.

"So, back to where we were, you've just blasted a yellowbelly. Going to pick it up to see if it’s dead?"

"NO!" Trish's voice was emphatic.

"Right. You back up fast, get away from it, reload and hit it again. Sometime these things take a lot of killing. Then you call for help. One good thing, yellowbellies are extremely territorial, they don't tolerate other yellowbellies in their hunting ground. So backing up from one won't walk you onto another. By the way, don't think that you can back away from a yellowbelly without killing it. They're mean and they're determined, you might think you've got away from him but you haven't. He's around you somewhere, waiting to take you unawares. Once you spot a yellowbelly, assume the fight goes on until one of you is dead. Probably, that's the way it is. In a few centuries, environmentalists will probably curse us for wiping the yellowbelly out but that'll be their problem.

"So, you are now officially issued two snake pistols." Zed handed them over. To his great satisfaction the first thing the two teenagers did was break their actions and check to see if they were unloaded. "Good, now clean them, oil them and keep them loaded. And practice with them until using them is second nature. Have you two learned to shoot yet.”

“I did our local police training course. Pistol, shotgun and sub-machine gun. I passed.” Joseph wondered if that actually meant anything.

“Most people do, so I’m told. The course is designed to make you safe, not necessarily skillful. What about you Trish?”

“Same for me. Only, my dad taught me rifle as well.”

Zed nodded. "Well, you both sound like you know the basics. We’ve got a Rhodesian Walk set up, you can practice there. Now a question that's invading your privacy. You two together?"

"We're friends, we met on the liner."

"That's not what I asked. Are you two together?"

Realization dawned. Trish went a deeper shade of red while Joseph shook his head. "Err, not yet, we thought…"

"OK, quiet bid of advice, when you two do get together, make sure everybody knows about it. They will anyway, we all pee in the same pot here but make it known regardless. What you do in private is your business but sometime one of you is going to be on an outside party that'll go missing. May be for a few hours, may be for a few days. We've had one outside party that was missing for ten days before they turned up alive. Only, a lot of times a party that goes missing turns up dead or just never gets found. It’s a long wait for a missing party and you don't want to wait alone. Trust me on that. If everybody knows you're together, we'll send somebody to stay with you until we know what happened, one way or the other."

"Zed, I've got a question. We're taking horses for transport and movement, we're talking about digging ditches and so on by hand. We've got machinery that can do all that. Why don't we use vehicles and backhoes?"

"Good question, Any ideas?"

"Because the colonists who take over the land we've broken can't afford things like that?" Trish's voice was tentative.

"Not bad. Your family wants to homestead don't they?"

"Yes si…. Yes Zed."

"So you've got a little insight. Having farm machinery is like having a beautiful girlfriend, it’s not the acquisition that breaks the bank, it’s the upkeep. Tau Ceti hasn't got any heavy industry yet, won't have for quite some time. So we use a backhoe and break it. A simple repair we can manage but a complex one, that backhoe has to go to the nearest factory, possibly all the way to Earth. Meanwhile, we're stuck. If we've dug things for ourselves, we know what we can do and what we can't. Horses, if a car or truck breaks down, same thing. If we're short of horses, we put mummy horse and daddy horse in a field and soon we have lots of little horses.

"This planet will industrialize one day and we'll have all the machinery and luxuries we need. Yanks coming here will see to that. But getting the colony off the ground and viable means doing what we can with what we can support locally. We have got some machinery but we're careful how we use it. The last thing we want is to run up massive repair bills and delay breaking ground for months because of machinery faults. The bills would hurt us while the delays hurt our employers. For Tau Ceti, that's American Express. Trish, your family homesteading your land from them yet?"

"No, Zed. We've got our homestead allocation from our User Reward Points. Father cashed them all in and reserved a grade-A homestead. They'll be working for a while in Safe Haven then going out to homestead."

"Smart move. Get to know the planet and how it ticks. Tell your father, before he picks his land, talk to Shane or me about it. We'll go out and look over the prospects for him,. See if there's any problems he's missed. Right. Trish, I'll take you over to see Maggie. She's the sort of camp mother for all the younger girls. She'll give you advice on women's things and, you ask her nicely, she'll get your bag sorted out. Joe, you come with me, I'll introduce you to an idiot stick."

"An idiot stick?"

"A piece of wood with a spade blade on one end and an idiot on the other." There was a laugh. "Don't laugh Trish, you'll be digging as well soon enough."

"Zed, a question."

"Yes Joe, NEVER hesitate about asking questions."

"Back to yellowbellies. All the stuff on them describes them as Tau Ceti's second most dangerous predator. They seem bad enough, what's the worst one like?"

Zed grinned nastily. "I'll give you a hint, there's three of them in this tent, right now."

[Calder]

Chapter 13
Armstrong Space Transit Facility, Luna City, Moon

"How often do they lose one?"

"The freight containers? I don't think they ever have. They're brought in under remote control and landed at the cargo handling facility. That's quite a way from here. If I remember correctly, they had a problem bringing one in once when a solar flare turned out to be more energetic than thought and it messed up the comms link, but the cargo drone just switched to internal and landed safely anyway. "

Dido Carthagina looked a little unconvinced. "Sorry, Seer, but I'm just not happy without a human pilot at the controls of things. Machines and computers are all very well but there's no substitute for a person up in front."

"No need to be sorry about it, good solid common sense. We fought that battle out in the 1950s. There were idiots back then who wanted to bet the farm on using automated missile systems rather than manned bombers. We fought it off, I shudder to think what would have happened if we'd failed. The strategic implications were mad. Ground floor."

The party stepped out of the elevator onto the main concourse of the Arrivals Lounge. They'd already by-passed the immigration stage of entry, diplomatic passports were a wonderful thing. Then they'd been held up in the health check and protocol sections. Nobody was exempt from those. Luna City was the perfect definition of a closed environment, disease up here would run like wildfire through the recovery and recycling systems. So health checks were mandatory for all visitors and the Seer's nose still itched from whatever it was that had been sprayed up there.

"Oh my, I keep forgetting how beautiful this place is." Lillith's voice was enchanted. She and Naamah had spent almost two centuries living in Luna as refugees from a stricken Earth. She had fond memories of the city, ones compounded of living openly for the first time in her long life with people who knew of her heritage. Also, the low gravity meant that her feet did not hurt. Back then, Luna City had been fighting for survival but now it had matured into a stunningly beautiful city. As well it should, the combination of low gravity, exotic minerals and limitless supplies of energy meant that the architects had a whole new range of options to play with. Huge sweeping buttresses, their curves seeming impossibly delicate compared with the load they apparently bore. Polished rock surfaces that were, quite literally, unearthly in their beauty. Polished rock surfaces were a growing luxury export for the Luna colonies. A few days earlier there had been an article in one of the style magazines about some celebrity or other who'd had the whole of their house floored with polished lunar 'marble'. The cost would have paid for a Navy carrier at least.

Above their heads, the rock changed to what appeared to be a transparent dome. It wasn't of course, the sun beating down would have made the arrivals lounge uninhabitable. In reality the dome was heavily polarized and tinted, reducing the savage glare to a comfortable, elegant bath of light. Most of Luna City was underground of course, it had to be to protect it from meteorite damage but the great dome of the Arrivals Lounge was on the surface and took advantage of that fact. Suddenly Dido burst out laughing. "Hey guys, should we pay our respects to the Bill Kaysing memorial plaque?"

"I think we'd better, Loki would never forgive us if we missed out."

Dido looked around and then lead the party over to a brass plaque set in the stone floor. It was a memorial to one of Loki's better practical jokes although at the time it was erected, nobody had realized the rare nature of the mind behind it. Bill Kaysing had been a crank conspiracy theorist about the end of the twentieth century who had come up with a theory that the Moon landings and subsequent colonization had never happened and that it had all been a dreadful government scam. One evening, Loki and a few of his people had kidnapped him and kept him heavily sedated while they shipped him to the moon. That had taken an incredible amount of organization and to this day even The Seer wasn't quite sure how he'd managed it.

The results had been spectacular. Kaysing had woken up on the floor of the Luna City spaceport, at the point now commemorated by the plaque. Loki had also arranged for a TV crew from one of the so-called "reality shows" to be recording the event and, for the next three hours, television viewers on Earth had been treated to the hysterically funny sight of Kaysing running around Luna City frantically trying to deny or refute what he could see around him. The show had ended with him collapsed in complete physical and mental exhaustion on the floor where he had started. One of Loki's better practical jokes indeed, and The Seer had taken the unprecedented step of calling him in Geneva to compliment Loki on the plan's execution.

"Dido, overhead." Above them, another of the box-like automated freighters was making its landing run. It slid serenely overhead, dipping towards the horizon where it would deliver its cargo of "ice" to Luna's waiting chemical plants. "Ice" was a name only, it did contain water, some, but the royal blue translucent mass was mostly frozen methane, ammonia and carbon dioxide. There was a long chain of the cargo containers stretched out across space, joining the asteroid belt with Luna's hungry refineries. The discovery that a substantial proportion of the asteroid belt contained ice had been unexpected and welcome. It had solved many, many problems. Later, other sources of ice had been found and they also found their way to Luna's refineries.

Once the container had arrived , it would be connected to a well-head and then its protective, insulating sheath removed. The sun's energy would warm it, causing the ice inside to sublime. Once inside the processing system, the gas was split into its components and fed itself into the chemical plants themselves. Methane would be sent to the reformers where it would be converted into long-chain hydrocarbons and, from there into all the plastic and other carbon-based requirements of modern civilization. Carbon dioxide went to the Luna hydroponics tanks where bio-engineered micro-organisms converted it into food, oxygen and water that would allow the inhabitants of Luna to eat, breathe and drink. The ammonia went to the chemical processing plans where it was converted into nitrates for fertilizer, explosives and other vital chemical commodities.

Luna didn't have much in the way of resources. It had limited amounts of water, virtually no air and no food. But it did have unlimited space, unlimited energy and unlimited hard vacuum. As long as it had those and a supply of ice, it could make everything else. Make it and export it; the chemical products of Luna were shipped back to space, to feed the space stations and the vast habitats as Lagrange Four and Lagrange Five.

"Is it true you live forever?" The little girl had grabbed hold of Lillith's leg.

"Cathy! That's rude. You mustn't do that. Madam, my daughter's youth has caused her to disturb you, please forgive her the discourtesy and if I may perform a service in recompense?"

"No problem, really, and a courteous apology is service enough. No Cathy, we don't live forever, just a very long time, that's all." Lillith crouched down slightly so she wasn't towering over the little girl. "Anyway, we all live the same time really. There's only yesterday, today and tomorrow. We can't do anything about yesterday and who knows what tomorrow will bring? That leaves only today, so we all have to make the best use of that don't we? Today is all any of us really have, no matter how long we live." The girl nodded seriously.

"Then go with your mother and enjoy today."

Lillith watched the mother and daughter set off across the lounge, their grace of movement in low gravity betraying the fact they were native-born moonies, not Earthside immigrants. The mother glanced over her shoulder, a bright smile of thanks directed at Lillith. Enjoy it the way my daughter was never allowed to, she said quietly to herself and then pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. Then she shook her head and looked around. "Monorail for New Miami is over there."

Most travel brochures preached endlessly about the "magnificent desolation" of the moon and its "vast expanses of majestic solitude". As a result, tourists who took the Monorail from Luna City to New Miami were sadly disappointed. Most of the run out took the passengers through the vast industrial area that filled most of the Mare Imbrium between Luna City and the Montes Apenninus. The Seer took one bored look at the miles of piping and engineering plant, curled into a corner and went to sleep. Only after the monorail passed through the pass north of the Eratosthenes Crater did the terrain change to match the publicity shots. Sinus Aestuum was everything the travel brochures said it would be, lonely and desolate. Only the magnificence and majesty were missing. Still the ride was smooth.

"How do you feel about taking over administration on Tau Ceti, Dido?" Lillith kept her voice down to avoid waking The Seer.

"Scared to be honest Lillith. It’s the first time in centuries I'll have been running on my own. Even when I was in London, I had you all down in Avebury to call on if I needed it. And Nell helped me of course."

"You taking her out to Tau Ceti as part of your group there?"

"I've asked her to come. She's thinking it over. How long is the run to New Miami?"

"A while yet. We have to cross Aestuum first, that's about 200 miles. So, another 45 minutes roughly. Then it’s a short hop to New Miami. About an hour in total. These monorails are nice though, amazing what one can do without air resistance and given plenty of electrical power. Looking forward to meeting Eldest for the first time?"

"Terrified. What can you say to somebody that old? He's seen and done everything."

"And will tell you about all of it given a chance. No, that's unfair of me. But it does take a lot of patience to listen to him, he wanders off onto tangents so easily. His brain's full, so many experiences, so many thoughts and emotions, he has trouble keeping them in order. The past intrudes on the present and he can't keep them apart. I suppose we'll all end up like that if we live long enough. Listening to him is worth the effort though. If you doubt that, remember he's probably the one person The Seer listens to without reservations. Eldest treats him and Loki almost as mischievous children sometimes. Affectionate and indulgent but firm none the less. Eldest doesn't usually voice opinions but when he does, those two listen."

"Two? What about Suriyothai?"

"That's a different situation, she and Eldest really don’t get along. He doesn't approve of the way she stays attached to her own country and works for it. Nor does he approve of the fact that she's a senior Government authority figure. That makes Suriyothai think he's opposed to what she does – which he is of course. So she views everything he says with suspicion. That's probably the one point where she and the Seer really strongly disagree." Lillith giggled. "You've never heard The Seer and Suriyothai having a row have you?"

Dido's eyebrows arched upwards. "Those two? I thought they were about as close as two people could get."

"They are, but that doesn't mean they agree on everything. If you ever see Suriyothai demolishing a 16 inch raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake after a meeting with The Seer, you know they've had a problem or two. They're both strong-willed and self-confident to a fault and that can make for major-league explosions."

The monorail sped on, through the brilliantly-lit landscape. Eventually signs of man's presence re-appeared, first the giant fields of solar power cells that harvested the moon's limitless bounty of sunlight and turned it into the electric power that was the colony's lifeblood. Then, the outlying facilities and industrial plants. New Miami had been created to take advantage of the benefits low gravity had for the aged. It was just the promoters had never guessed just how old one of those inhabitants would be. However, the design of the place reflected that primary concern and one of its dictates was that everything unsightly be kept out of the way.

The monorail entered the airlock and stopped while the unit recycled. There was no source of oxygen on the moon, none worth speaking about anyway. The air people breathed came from outside and was husbanded carefully. There was a moonie joke about that. 'take care of the air, five hundred other people need it after you'. Then, once the lock had inflated properly, the train moved into New Miami proper. Lillith reached out and tapped the Seer's foot, watching him spring awake as the train stopped.

There was a guarded wing to New Miami, one that had cost a lot of money and was subject to very tight security. Even though they were both recognized, Lillith and The Seer had to produce the required identification before going further, identification that specified what they were as well as who they were. Dido's took longer, it was her first visit and she wasn't on file. That took some sorting out. They got through eventually. By the time they reached the private apartments Dido was beginning to wonder just who this person they were visiting was. When the doors dilated, she was disappointed. Standing the other side were two women, one dark and Indian, the other tall and blonde.

"Sarasvati, Freya, how are you. Long time no see. How's everything going?" There was the usually exchange of hugs and greetings. "And how is Eldest? How are we getting on?"

"We're doing well. We got some more down yesterday, stuff we hadn't heard before. The problem's the same as always though, getting the order sorted out. Eldest's sense of time has gone, he could be talking about ten years ago or ten thousand. Still, the historians are going to be tearing their hair out. Again."

There was a general laugh. Sarasvati and Freya were two of Eldest's six secretaries. Their job was to write down everything he said and turn it into a history. Once the Daimones had come out into the open, those records had been made available to professional historians. They gave a unique insight into the development of civilizations in Europe as the last great ice age had receded. As Freya had once remarked, Eldest was, as an absolute certainty, the only man alive who knew how to cook a mammoth properly. The results had revolutionized history and upset a lot of historians. Almost as many as the revelation of what had really happened to Alexander the Great.

A buzzer rang and Cerridwen called through. "Eldest is ready now if you'd like to come in."

Dido gathered herself together and followed her companions into Eldest's office. He rose as they entered, a small man, barely five foot tall she guessed, with a coppery red skin. His hair was silver, not from age but its natural color and it was matched by two piercing blue-green eyes. His voice was pitched oddly, not quite the sound span most people used when talking.

"Parmenio, Lillith welcome back. And you must be Dido, I've wanted to meet you for such a long time."

Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Orbiting Undesignated Plughole, 18 Scorpii

There were two dull thuds as the loading mechanism of the heavy mass-drivers under the cockpit floor slid back into the "armed" position. "Mass-drivers on line and ready to fire. Two Hibex missiles on line and ready to fire. CIDS deployed and on full automatic."

"Crew closed up, in full pressure suits, all airtight hatches closed, damage control teams closed up and ready. Electronic warfare at full alert. We're ready to go."

Tony Williams looked down at the navigational display in front of him. A very inviting plughole indeed. The gradients were shallow and the aperture at the bottom was huge. Certainly big enough for the largest ship Earth was ever likely to build. Large enough for an asteroid launched with genocidal intent.

"Makes me realize how casual we were about this before Yelina." Over at her consoles, she nodded, the movement masked by the helmet of her pressure suit.

"Never had any real indication of trouble before. Any word on the investigations?" Soo was still getting up to speed on reports after her absence.

"They're teams down on Mossberg now, in the impact craters. Trying to get dirt samples from the asteroid and match them to the ones in the system. Perhaps that'll prove where they came from. Up on the station, the astrophysicists are trying to work out the path of the fragments. They know the angle at which they hit the planet from the crater configurations but trying to disentangle the course from that, it’s taking a lot of computer time."

"We have clearance to go team." The Captain's voice cut across the cockpit, its authority not diminished by being transmitted through the communications system.

"If we get blown up, I'll never forgive you." Showgirl's voice was apprehensive.

"If that happens. I'll apologize personally. Promise." Williams chuckled as he edged the throttles forward and started Showgirl down the long slide towards the plughole. "Anyway, the brainiacs have fingered this plughole as the most likely source if the lump of rock did come from outside. So down we go."

The large navigation display showed the mapped plugholes in 18 Scorpii. By the time exploration had finished, a total of 27 had been located, making this one of the richest known systems. Each plughole had been carefully mapped in advance. SAC was being very careful over this one. "Getting ready to make transit now." William's voice was on edge as well.

As usual, the transit was quiet and uneventful. The starscape around them quietly, undramatically changed to its new configuration. Soo looked around, no recognizable constellations, that wasn't at all surprising. She couldn't see any additional portals either. That was surprising, there was one very bright star ahead of them that looked like the system primary.

“Williams, is anybody shooting at us?”

Williams scanned the screens and the threat board. “No Sir, we’re clear. Nothing in range.”

Traditional question, traditional response, only William's voice was hesitant. "You don't sound certain Tony." Soo was scanning her consoles for any anomalies.

"There's something out there. You ever get the feel that there's something at the corner of your eye, you can't quite see it but you know it's there. Only every time you turn your head to look, its gone?"

"No, but my peripheral vision is a lot better than yours."

"Very funny. But there is something here Captain. I don't know, some trace or something. Probably natural."

"Keep scanning." The minutes were ticking away. Normally, they had a positional fix by now. "Navigation, where the devil are we?"

"If we knew we'd tell you." The voice from astronomy was harassed and a little frightened.

"What's the problem?"

"We checked that bright star ahead, it’s a G2V so there should be an earthlike planet here. Only its spectrum doesn't match any G2V we have on file. That's not surprising, there are a lot of stars. So we went looking for beacon stars, they're very bright, very distinctive ones. Act like homing beacons. We have about fifty plotted, we can't find any of them."

"Hidden by dust clouds?"

"All fifty? No way. Anyway, we checked around a bit more. None of the stars here are on file, none of them. The computer threw a complete blank. Some of the G2Vs, the ones we pay most attention to are close but none of them match.

"So we had a look for galaxies. We looked first for the Sagittarius dwarf galaxy, we should be able to see that easily enough. Not a sign of it. We've looked from the Magellanic clouds, we've looked for Carina, we've looked for Formax. We can't find any of them. We're checking other galaxies now Captain, but so far we've come up null."

"Keep trying. Let me know the moment you get a fix on where we are. Williams, send a drone back though the portal. Message its to transmit is that the portal leads to a viable star system but we are unable to get a fix. Also that we cannot consider this system to be secure."

"Very good Sir."

Showgirl turned lazily around and the drone fired. A few minutes later, it popped back through the portal and swept past Showgirl transmitting a warning that the Portal was in use. It was followed by Belladonna, Cara Mia and Dark Angel.

"Ahoy Showgirl , do you know where we are yet?" The voice from Belladonna was hearty, as if he didn't really believe they were unable to find a fix.

"Astronomy, do you have an answer for him?"

"In a way sir, but you're not going to like it. We can't find anything that matches the spectral data in our database. We're not in sight of anything that we've seen before. That means we're not even in the same galactic supercluster. Wherever we are, we're a long, long way from home.

[Calder]

Chapter 14
Admiral's Briefing Room, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Somewhere.

"Well, we've arrived, the question is where."

"That's not the only question." Captain Madrick spoke cautiously, measuring his words. "We've arrived, the other question is who else is here? Are there any potential enemies in this system?"

"The Air Force is here" observed one of the officers, sparking a round of laughter and a few stifled war-whoops.

"Careful Charlie, have you SEEN the bombs those babies are carrying?"

"Gentlemen, please." Admiral Theodore's voice indicated that his interjection was not a request for quiet. The room silenced on the spot. "Captain Madrick is quite correct. We cannot assume that this system is unoccupied. One of the four SAC bombers here picked up some unidentified traces when they arrived. Do we have any word on that?"

"No Sir." William's voice was frustrated. There's something out there, I'm sure of it. Its like something in the corner of your eye or a streak of oil on water. I don’t see anything until the conditions are just right, then it’s a hint that vanishes as soon as I try to firm it up. I tried doing nothing and it vanished anyway."

"Hmm. Lieutenant Soo, have you seen anything to confirm this?"

Soo looked equally frustrated and a bit embarrassed as well. "No Sir, I haven't. But my eyes are different from yours, I see movement very precisely but they’re much less sensitive to things that are still. If whatever Ton …… Lieutenant Williams…… is seeing is stationary, I'm much less likely to see it than he is. I can see very dim lights flickering but not steady ones. "

One of the Navy officers at the meeting smiled at her and twitched his ears. Lieutenant Charles Henry Edward William Becker, defense systems officer on the Des Moines and universally nicknamed Chewbacca. She returned the greeting to the fellow Wolfen, feeling a little less isolated than before.

"CAG, you have something to add?"

"Only a word from experience Sir, something I've learned over and over again. If somebody gets a feeling something is wrong or they've sensed something they can't explain they're right. Something is wrong. Every time its their senses picking up something below the threshold of awareness and frantically trying to warn them."

"And when did you first learn that?" Zipster's voice was slightly scornful. His Captain gave him a very sharp look, Zipster was already notorious throughout the task group. Conceited with his own perception of cleverness, over confident and arrogant, he was a typical sprog who didn’t understand how little he knew and didn't have the sense to keep his mouth shut. One who had a bad habit of making unfunny jokes at the expense of his superiors – when they were within earshot. A very junior officer who lacked both tact and discretion didn't have much of a future.

"Flying an Airacobra over Archangel. Russian Front, 1944." The room went silent, there really was no way of answering that.

Eventually Admiral Theodore broke the quiet. "What do you recommend CAG?"

Paul Lazaruski leaned back in his chair and thought for a few seconds. Of all the things he'd tried in his life, nothing had been the equal of flying. So he'd found his way into this post and it suited him perfectly. "We don't know what we're facing so we keep a deckload strike ready to go. Half a dozen Wildcat fighters loaded for space-to-space and the same number of Avenger bombers with an anti-capital ship load out. Second group, same force but the Avengers loaded for surface attack. I'd also suggest we put four Sentry early warning birds out, it may be somebody is stalking us and we can spot them by extending our net a bit. Above all, get the Snarler EW birds out there, wring out the electromagnetic spectrum see what falls out. I'd guess we'd better ready a couple of the Sunoco tankers in case we need them, they can also refuel the SAC birds as well. We need to keep their firepower available as long as we can."

"Good advice, Captain Madrick, see to it. Has anybody any ideas on what these traces could be?"

"I've got one theory, Sir." Lieutenant Dirand from the Smolensk. "Propulsion trails. If somebody was using an ion drive or some other system like that and had passed through the system but not stopped here, they might have left a trail that we can almost, but not quite, detect."

"Any other ideas? No? Then follow that one up. Take Lieutenant Williams' observations, talk to him and see if you can come up with some answers. Now, back to the main subject of discussion. We have a carrier, two cruisers, two destroyers and four SAC bombers here and we still don't know where we are. Can somebody rectify that?"

There was an embarrassed silence from the collected heads of the Astronomy sections. Eventually, Shiloh's head of Astronomy and Navigation took the lead. Commander Plait's team had been working hard ever since their arrival and found it a frustrating experience. None of the standard navigational and location-finding systems had worked.

"We're a long, long way from home Sir. The portal behind us jumps millions, probably hundreds of millions of light years. You know the jump in Alpha Aquilae, the one that covers a few hundred miles? Well, that's one end of the scale, this seems to be the other. Of course we've no real idea what the average length of a portal transit is or how many of them there are. We do have one possible hint as to where we are. One of the astronomers has been plotting the shape of the voids we've been able to find and he thinks he's identified the Sculptor Void. From that he thinks we're somewhere in the Horologium Supercluster, some 800 million light years from home.

"That doesn't help us very much of course. The Horologium Supercluster is more than a hundred times the size of our own Virgo Supercluster and contains 2,000 trillion stars. Of course that's a more managable number than the 30 billion trillion stars that are in the Universe we've been able to see from Earth but 2,000 trillion is still an awful lot of possibilities. One thing we do need to is get a proper astronomy team out here with all the deep space surveillance equipment we can gather. Back on Earth, we could only see 14 billion light years around us and the exploration we've done to date hasn't significantly changed that. Now, we're so far out that we have what could be an entirely new 14 billion light year radius. If that's so, if moving so far simply gives us a new 14 billion years of vision, then it’s a pretty good indication the Universe is infinite. But what if we see there's an edge, a point beyond which there are no more stars? Philosophically, that's very profound."

“Thank you Commander, lets leave philosophy for now. We're military people here, we can leave philosophy to lesser minds." A laugh ran around the Officer's Conference, dispelling the slight tension generated by Zipster's faux pas. Anyway, an Admiral's jokes were always funny. "It's obvious that we're so far away from home, it doesn't actually matter where we are. Normally, we're concerned with how our new position relates to known space. Here, we have a simple answer. It doesn't. So we're starting from a clean slate and we can treat it as one. This system is our new zero point, we'll try and map from here. Commander Plait, get your team measuring the spectral signatures of the closest and the brightest stars, see if you can identify some new beacon stars as navigational aids. Of course, that won't help if we find that all the portals out of here also chase off into the great unknown but it’s a start. We have to assume that the long-distance portals are a rarity and most of the ones here are like the ones we're familiar with. Of course there's no reason why we should make that assumption.

"Next point. What do we know about this system?"

"Earthlike Sir, very much so. Star is a G2V just like Sol. Its luminosity and metallicity are both about 50 percent higher that Sol's. We think we've spotted a twelve-planet system with the usual asteroid belts. If our guess is right, the fourth planet out should be pretty earthlike."

"Very good, I suppose we'll have to find a name for the star and the planet." There was a surge forward. "The first person to suggest Mordor or Barsoom will be assigned to cleaning our engine exhausts for the rest of his – or her – career." The surge subsided. "Any original suggestions will be considered. Just remember our engine exhausts are waiting before you make one."

Main Conference Room, National Security Council Building, Washington DC

In 814 BC, fleeing from the men who had murdered her husband, she'd lead a group of Phoenician emigrants from Tyre to found the port and trading center of Carthage. She'd ruled that city, seen it grow from a small outpost to a rich metropolis. One day, soon after her city had been founded, a group of wanderers had landed, lead by a semi-pirate called Aeneas. Dido had fallen for him, tried to persuade him to stay and join her city. That doing so would give her city-state a Navy of its own had also been in her mind. Yet, despite her love, Aeneas had elected to sail away. She'd tried to persuade him not to, pointing out he had arrived in the city a pauper and a refugee and she had saved him and his friends from death, given them shelter and a place in her Kingdom. Yet he had ignored her and left.

She'd cursed him royally and sworn that if he set foot on her lands again, she'd kill him herself. Eventually, she'd entered into an alliance with some local chiefs and that had given her city-state the size and strength it had needed to survive. Later still, she realized that while all around her aged, for her, time was at a standstill. She'd become an exile, wandering from place to place but never again had she fully trusted her own judgment. Not after she had staked so much on Aeneas and he had thrown her sacrifices back in her face.

Only now, she was back where she had started, leading a team of colonists away from their home to found a new state. Only this was a time and a place she could never have dreamed of when she had been a Princess in Tyre. She'd looked up at the stars then, wondering what they were and why they were there. Now, one of them was to be her new home.

"People, you've all been advised of the basic terms of our contract. The new administration on Tau Ceti has hired The Contractors to provide governmental services for them. The deal is the same thing we have here on Earth, the local population will elect their governments and those politicians will decide policy according to their lights. We will provide the executive assistants for those politicians and the senior staff for the government departments. There will be one exception to that.

"Henry, after negotiation with American Express, it's been decided that you will be head of the Planetary law enforcement agency. Achillea will be your executive assistant in that task. You'll be responsible for selecting, training and commanding the law enforcement agencies in the settlements."

Dido kept running down the list of appointments, handing out responsibilities and assigning duties. As she did so, she finally, at last, felt the confidence and self-reliance start to seep back. Although she didn't know it, her voice showed the same. She'd started hesitant and uncertain, now the imperiousness of a queen was reasserting itself. That made some of the younger Daimones apprehensive and conflicted.

"We'll all be leaving on the Holland America liner Hyperion when she returns from her present trip. That will be in two weeks, you have until then to finalize your affairs here on Earth and get wrapped up. " That shouldn't be hard she thought, until we came out of the shadows, we were all ready to vanish at five minutes notice. You youngsters have it easy and we’re the ones who took the risk to get it that way.

"Another thing, you've all heard the astounding news about the portal leading out of 18 Scorpii? Well, its made the whole area we'll be in much more important. Interstellar 88 has been designated combining the old 881 and 882 and extending the run through to, well, wherever it is they've got to. Any questions any one. Yes Henry?"

"We'll need horses for the Regulator patrols."

"Regulators?"

"Groups of six police patrolling between settlements and visiting them all in rotation. Provide real backing for local law enforcement and also act as a check on any lawmen who aren't doing their job. Or who are forgetting where their loyalty lies."

Oh blast thought Dido, that means I owe Naamah a hundred bucks. She had said Henry would do that. "We've got you the best money can buy. An Australian breed, Walers. That OK?"

"Walers? That's great. Can't do better."

"Anybody else? Right, you all have the files on your new departments and on the local officials you'll be working for. We'll have another full meeting before we leave to iron out any problems that occur. Thank you."

Dido left the conference room and started off down the corridor towards The Seer's office. Lillith was filing something in one of the computer banks. "Hi Dido. How did the meeting go?"

"Very well, I think. Feels odd to be back in the chair again though."

"Never quite leaves you though does it? The boss is waiting for you, head right in."

"Thanks." The door hissed and Dido went through. "Good morning Seer."

"Hi Dido, everything go OK?"

"I think so, thank you. There don't seem to be any outstanding problems."

"There never will be. That I can promise you. The problems you're expecting will solve themselves and the ones that keep you awake nights sneak up unexpected. Don't sweat it, you'll do fine. Just don't over-react when the problems strike. Look, I've got a going-away present for you." He reached under his desk and pulled out a bag. Dido looked in curiously, inside was an old-fashioned wire mesh tray. She looked back at the Seer, puzzled.

"That's your 'Not Received' tray. Vital piece of office equipment, much more useful than the usual 'In', 'Out' and 'Pending' trays. Every time you get a piece of idiot correspondence, a demand for action on the unactionable or a request for comments on a stupid idea, toss it into your 'Not Received' tray. If its not received, you don't have to do anything about it."

Dido snorted with laughter. "Don't people complain?"

"About what? You can't understand what they’re talking about, you never received the original message did you? Its in your 'Not Received' tray. Once in a while, if people get really pressing, fire off a memo asking them why they haven't responded to your messages."

"I thought the point of this tray was that I hadn't made any?"

"You won't have but they don't know that. They'll go frantic looking for the messages you sent. Partly because they know that they have to find them or their held responsible for the delays and partly because they know you'll answer any further communications on the matter with 'Please refer to previous correspondence'. I can guarantee that it'll be at least three months before they give up and admit they can't find the messages. By that time, the original subject matter is almost always irrelevant."

Dido looked entranced, it was such an elegant simple solution. The 'Not Received' tray. "Thank you, Seer. I'll treasure this."

"Dido, you'll do fine. You always could, its just you never gave yourself the chance. You made one bad mistake and you've been beating yourself up over it ever since. You made yourself look a fool in front of your people, everybody's done that. Get Naamah to tell you a few stories about some of the mistakes she's made over the years, and if she won't, get Lillith to tell you. Some of the mistakes I've made have got thousands of people, arguably millions, killed. You've got good judgment Dido, you're perceptive and intuitive. Trust yourself, you won’t let yourself down. And if you do make a mistake, live with it, learn from it and move on.

“Just don’t try and run the planet. We know that won’t work. It’s the short-lifers planet, let them elect their leaders and let their leaders run things, same way we do here. It works, Dido, that's the most important thing. Just make sure their good decisions get expedited and get in the way of their bad ones."

"And make full use of the 'Not Received' tray."

"You've got it. And in case I don’t see you before you leave, good luck."

Camp Darwin, Southern Continent, Tau Ceti Colony.

The scream came slashing through the air, a pure, undiluted shriek of agony. Joseph started to run towards the sound, the lights brightening as the crews responded to the same dreadful warning. He could see what the cause was, one of the Clydesdale foals was down, threshing on the ground with a yellowbelly's claws attached to his rear leg. He knew what was happening. The poison was contained in the upper part of the claw. As the yellowbelly bit, the pressure squeezed the toxin out through a series of pointed spikes on the inside of the claw. It gave a massive dose of poison quickly.

The yellowbelly saw Joseph approaching and, in its eyes, saw a rival for the prey it had just killed. It let go of the leg and turned to attack the intruder. Joseph saw it move, saw it starting to approach him, moving scarily fast on its spider-like legs while its evil, glowing white eyes were fixed on him. He didn't hesitate, his snake pistol was already in his hands and he gave the evil-looking thing both barrels. The blast of shot seemed to shred the whole front part of the animal, but it was still moving, slower than before and blindly but still deadly dangerous. Joseph was backing up, breaking the action of the shotgun and loading two more shells. Then, he fired again and the thing finally stopped moving. He stayed away though, yellowbellys were dangerous and it wouldn't do to get caught by its last reflex move.

Two more of the heavy shotgun blasts threw the body around some more. Team leader Shane and Zed had also gone to the sound of the guns and added their fire to the brief battle. Behind them, the colony vet was already looking at the foal. Its back leg was hugely swollen, turning black and foul-smelling. The yellowbelly's toxin wasn't just poison, it also contained digestive enzymes that turned the meat around the bite into a soft, rotting stew that the yellowbelly could suck up. Shane took one look at the agonized animal and shot it in the head.

"Zed, do you get the feel that the yellowbellies down here are bigger and more aggressive than the ones up north? That one must be four feet long." Joseph's voice was starting to shave with delayed shock.

"Yeah mate. Some reason that's always the way. Creatures get worse as we go south. That's why we always put the first colony as far north as we can. I'll take you to Oz someday. There, the only critters that ain't poisonous are the Great White Sharks and the Salt Water Crocs. Hey, Joe, you done good tonight, responded fast and did what you had to. And didn't freeze up while doing it.”

"I didn't save the foal though."

"No way you could kid. No way. Cost of settling that was."

Passageway, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Somewhere.

"Hey Yelina, you doing anything tonight?" Zipster's face was a mixture of hope and lust.

"I'm washing my hair."

"Oh. How about tomorrow?"

"On duty."

"Well, day after? I've got tickets for a play."

"I've seen one."

Zipster stopped, nonplussed. He'd heard Wolfen women were easy, he hadn't quite expected this degree of difficulty. He was still trying to work out what to do next when Chewbacca turned the corner.

"Hi Yelina, Have you seen our new damage control consoles?"

"No, Charles, I've heard about them, could you show me please?"

"Only if you promise to call me Chewbacca or Chewie. Nobody calls me Charles."

"Agreed Chewie. Lead on."

Ensign Zipster watched in frustration as the two Wolfen vanished around the corner. That just wasn't supposed to have happened.

[Calder]

Chapter 15
Admiral's Bridge, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Somewhere.

"They never really knew how beautiful they are did they?"

"Who?"

"People who made the pre-Dark Ages films. Before we got into space and really saw Earth from orbit, they never guessed how beautiful an inhabitable world is. And they're all like that, look at it down there."

It really was beautiful, the dark blue of the seas contrasting with the rich green land, all overlaid by the swirling white of the cloud systems. The ice caps were larger than Earth's and the remote sensing systems were suggesting that overall surface temperatures were down a bit on Earth-normal. Within tolerable limits though, which meant that, unless something was horribly wrong down there, this planet was a keeper.

"Any word of when we'll get a team down there Admiral?"

"The exploration ship is on its way now. We're using SEAL Team Two again with One and Four on standby ready to reinforce. Two heavy lift ships are also coming in with the first elements of a space station. Once they're here, we'll send one of our destroyers, probably the Rattanakosin and the four SAC birds back. The zoomies are pushing their endurance already. They'll go back to Tau Ceti, refuel and restore then come straight back here. Ah, CAG, have we found any little green men yet?"

"No. Admiral, blue, purple and red ones but no green ones. Guess we'll have to write this system off."

"Very funny. I guess the systems still empty?" Lazaruski was silent. "I'll take that as a no."

"There's something here Admiral, transients perhaps, or something we can't measure. Showgirl keeps getting these unidentifiable hits and, oh it sounds ridiculous, but I just know there is something around. I've felt it before."

"But we've picked up nothing solid."

"No Sir, we have not. I've had patrols out off over the system and they've turned up nothing odd. It hasn't been a waste of time, we've checked the system out thoroughly for plugholes and found six, one group of four and one pair. Usual place, only because that's the fourth planet down there, the plugholes are a lot closer to our future colony. It'll cut down transit time. We checked out the asteroid belt thoroughly as well, in case something was hiding in there."

Admiral Theodore and Captain Madrick both raised eyebrows. "I know, it's an amateurish idea but it's better to have tried it and looked foolish than not to have done and looked even more so. According to the samples we picked up, the asteroids are heavy metal rich beyond our wildest dreams. Rio Tinto Zinc will go bananas when they find out what’s out here. Selling short on gold might not be a bad idea."

"Sensor data from the probes says the planet is mineral-rich as well. Huge amounts of iron, copper, rare earths, lead, gold, silver. Light on aluminum so far though." Captain Madrick thought for a second. "Farmland is rich as well, there's a lot of vegetation down there. Very, very heavy levels of forestation. So the soil's rich. Good farmland, good mining opportunities, does anybody get the feeling this is too good to last?"

"And that brings us back to the mysterious transients out there. Has anybody thought this could be a problem with Showgirl's sensor outfit? Or." Theodore paused, trying to phrase it delicately and gave up. "Her crew? One of the flight deck crew is Wolfen and they’re not the most stable people around."

Lazaruski shook his head. "Showgirl's got a lot of exploration experience, Sir. Did several of the Interstellar route jumps and a couple that aren't on the system. Nothing to suggest that her equipment or crew is faulty. Quite the reverse if anything, I'd suspect it’s their experience that's causing them to see something the rest are missing. If anything being Wolfen would work against this problem, their trouble is that they get bored too easily, not that they invent things. Anyway, it’s not the Wolfen on board who's seeing the traces. It's her partner and he's traditional."

"And if the Wolfen had spotted these mysterious tracks, we'd probably be better off, their reactions might get a lock on the things before they vanish." Madrick's voice showed the frustration they were all feeling with reference to those traces, just enough sightings to be tantalizing, not enough to learn anything. "I've got our scientific crew getting the briefing ready for the SEALs when they arrive. As far as I can see, we can send them straight down, we haven't spotted anything unusually deadly yet."

"Something must be predating on those plant-eaters down there. Otherwise the planet would be neck deep in the things."

"We've spotted a couple, we think. Camera film on one of the automated landers, one's like a giant cat, another's a bird. Conventional predators though, as far as we can see. If anything, they’re almost lethargic. Nothing like the Tau Ceti Yellowbellies or the carnivorous dust we found a few years back."

"Hope it stays that way then. By the way, navigation wants to know what we have decided what we can call this star. We're going to have to name it sometime, they're complaining about calling it 'that thing' all the time."

"We got the usual suggestions from the task group. None original. So I picked one." Admiral Theodore paused theatrically. "From now on, this system is Elpis, after the Greek goddess for hope."

Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Loop Orbit, Elpis Star System

"Mail Call!"

Yelina Soo twisted in her seat as Williams floated in through the hatchway. She was sticky and was uncomfortably aware that she smelled bad. One of the penalties of her enhanced senses was that she noted such things. Showgirl was designed and provisioned for a two week flight, she'd been out for three already and water was running short. Her luxurious stay on the Hyperion was now just a treasured memory. Which brought her back to the mail. She grabbed the packet and started flipping through them. To her intense disappointment, there wasn’t one from Joseph and Trish.

"All from Hyperion. This one says he knew I wouldn't stay but wishes me well and hopes I'll be happy, That's a nice one, I'll have to look him up again sometime. Marriage proposal, another marriage proposal, one please come back, one more please, please come back. Oh, this one thinks I'm an evil heartbreaking spawn of sin and should be locked in solitary confinement for the rest of my life."

"Doesn't it worry you to get letters like that? One day somebody might try it for real."

"Have a maniac lock me up in a cell for the rest of my life? Better than being married." Behind them, Captain Newman gave an outraged snort. "Captain, Sir, studies clearly show that the people with the longest lifespans, excepting Daimones of course, are married men and unmarried women. Which conclusively proves that marriage is very good for men and very bad for women."

"That's ourage………hold one." Williams started fiddling with his controls again. His face frowned with concentration, then collapsed into a frustrated scowl. I picked up that trace again, I almost had it, I'm sure of it. Its just there, just a shred out of reach." He banged the arm of his seat in frustration, then hurriedly reset the switch he'd jarred loose. Fortunately the safety was on and the firing system wasn't armed. Behind him, there was a beep on the control system.

"Good news for you Tony. " The Captain's voice cut across the cockpit. "That was Cara Mia, she picked the trace up too. Same as you, faint, vague, vanished as soon as she tried to find it. But quite definitely there."

Williams slumped back into his seat, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "Thank the Lord for that. I was beginning to think I was going insane."

"You are." Soo's voice was completely unsympathetic, "Its just that this wasn't one of your delusions."

"Thank you, Yelina……… I think."

"Don't listen to her Tony. Anyway, I'm glad too, I thought my instruments weren't working." Showgirl's voice was relieved as well.

Yelina was staring at the navigational display. It had a graphic of the star system up on it with the positions of the known plugholes marked. She reached down, punching in data with practiced ease. "Look at this. This is our position here and this is where Cara Mia is stationed. Now, lets make some assumptions. Whatever is causing that trace can't be in the primary search arc of our sensors because if it was we'd have made a solid hit, agreed?" The other two nodded. "So lets mark that as an exclusion." She punched in more data and two pale white triangles leapt out from the positions of the two ships.

"Right, now we can also eliminate our blind area aft, if it was in there we wouldn't have seen anything at all."

"What about our tail warning gear?"

"True, and our CIDS sensors cover that area, but I'm assuming whatever we're picking up is a long way away. So lets take that area out. Now, the bit in between falls into two categories. One part is that covered by our sensor sidelobes. Our antennas will pick up stuff from there as a faint, unisolatable signal, just like Tony is describing. The other part is technically out of our search scan but we might pick up a reflection. We'll call the sidelobes probable areas and the rest possible. Now, we put all that onto the display for both ships and……."

The display showed the result very clearly. There was a distinct area of space, a vertical bar perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic that was in both ship's "probable" arc. The "possible" areas were a lot fuzzier and less distinct but the red vertical bar of "probable" was hypnotically attractive.

"I think we're picking up something above or below the plane of the ecliptic. Probably not directly but a harmonic or something. That explains why the Sentry's haven't seen anything, they have 360 degree search radar, no sidelobes. If that signal only comes through a sidelobe, they won't see it."

"Put it together Yelina. What do you think it is?"

She cautiously licked her upper lip, flicking her tongue out for a second. "I think it’s an exhaust trail of some kind. Some sort of trace from another space ship, moving above or below us. They're avoiding this system, perhaps because they don’t want to fly through it or perhaps because we're here. If it’s the former, they don’t know about us, if it’s the latter, we can expect a visit."

"It’s a theory." Newman's voice was wary. "I'll send a message to Admiral Theodore, alerting him to your analysis and include your comments."

Camp Darwin, Southern Continent, Tau Ceti Colony.

"Joseph Vaisie and Tricia Anderson, please report to the mess tent." The message came over the loudspeaker system. The two teenagers glanced at each other then hurried over to the dining hall. Tent was a historical term only, it was actually a large prefabricated building. Inside, the tables had been gathered around the center to make a platform and two chairs placed on top.

"Take your seats please." Zed Smeaton pointed at the chairs. The two climbed up and sat down. Below them, Team Leader Shane walked out into center floor. The roast was about to start.

"We've proved the Colony here, opening up the Southern Continent for settlers. We'll be handing this settlement over to them soon and collecting our bounty. Our duty now is to see whether our trainees here have learned enough to become part of our company. Zed, you have been their mentor, what say you?"

"Well Shane, Joseph's worked hard, never complained about his duties. Didn't do that well early on, mostly lack of basic skills, but learned what he needed to learn quickly. Reacts well in emergencies and thinks clearly. Got the makings of a good settler. Maggie, how did you do with Trish?"

"Just got one thing to say Zed. Remember the orangeberry interlude?" An embarrassed laugh ran around the room. Orangeberries were a Tau Ceti specialty, a small, grape-sized fruit that looked and tasted just like a very sweet orange. Already, it had become an export commodity for the colonies on the Northern continent. Only it had turned out that the ones that grew in the South were subtly different from those up north. Different in a way that gave anybody who ate them violent dysentery. "Well, for a week while the rest of us relaxed in bed, it was Trish and a couple of others who washed out the bedpans. For a week without complaining. Anybody here want to wash bedpans for a week without complaining? Thought not."

The meeting went on, various settlers standing up, giving an opinion on the teenager's abilities or telling stories about their experiences as they'd learned the skills of becoming a settler. Finally, everybody had finished their say.

"Is there anybody who doesn't think these two trainees have what it takes to be settlers?" There was a dead silence. "Very well, Joseph and Trish, two things. First is welcome to our company and don’t think that means you have nothing left to learn. Second, we are paid a bounty for opening this settlement and proving the land. We share that bounty equally, half a percent for every member of the team. As trainees, you didn't qualify for a share of the bounty but it’s our discretion to make you an award, a bonus. I now call on each member here to give me a card indicating whether you think Joseph and Trish merit a bonus, and if so the percentage they should receive."

Sitting up on their chairs, Joseph and Trish watched as each settler handed Shane a small folded card. Shane opened each one, read it and marked a tally. Eventually the cards stopped coming and he looked up. "Joseph and Trish, it is the unanimous decision of our company that you be awarded one twelfth of a percent each as a bonus. This is a gift that marks the good opinion that every member of this community has for your efforts.

"People, we are on the move. You've all heard about the Long Jump to Elpis. The SEALs are on the planet now, checking it out. We have been picked as the team to make the First Settlement there. We leave in a week. Now, you two jump down."

Shane shook each of the new settlers as they jumped from the stage. "Mates, good to have you with us. Important day for you, one you'll always remember for there's no feeling like settling virgin land. Trish, Zed and I have set time aside, will you take us up to your family's holding? We'll look it over, give your folks some pointers.

Anderson Holding, Northern Continent, Tau Ceti Colony.

There were strangers on his land. It would be a couple of years before he got to move out here but it was still his land and there were strangers on it. Howard Anderson didn't like that at all. He and his wife made a point of coming out here every so often, to plan their home and work out how they would farm their land. Those plans didn't allow for strangers.

"Friends, welcome to my homestead. May I be of service to you?" The polite words belied the firmer grip Howard Anderson had taken on his shotgun. He watched closely, carefully, as the four turned around, two older men, one young man, one young woman. Didn't seem like a gang of stake-jumpers but one never knew. Then he relaxed, the oldest man in the group was Colonization Team Leader Shane. Anderson's mind jumped back to the meeting late in the evening on board the liner that had brought them here. That had been, six months ago now? Then the connection made everything else snap into place. Good Lord be praised, the young woman is my daughter!

He hadn't recognized her for a moment, last time he'd seen her, she'd been a typical giggling teenager. Now she was a mature young woman who stood tall, with a straight back and looked at the world through calm, alert eyes. The clothes had changed as well, from typical teenage fashions to a work shirt and jeans, finished off with a pair of high leather boots. Yellowbellys were close to the ground and couldn't jump. Plus their deadly claws delivered lots of poison but their penetration wasn't so good. A pair of high, stout boots gave pretty good protection from a bite. And she had a snake pistol hanging from her belt. There was something about the way her hand hung near it that he found disturbing.

"Hello Father, this is going to be our homestead? You've met Team leader Shane of course, and this is our mentor, Zebadiah Smeaton."

"Good morning Mister Shane, Mister Smeaton. Joseph, good to see you again. You look as if being a settler suits you."

"Good Morning Mister Anderson. We were up this way so Trish offered to show us your holding. Looks like you got a prime piece of land here. River will give you your water supply, the bluff in the bend is a good place to put your ranch."

"Thank you Sir. That's what we had in mind. Hannie, come over here, Trish is visiting us with her friends. Sir, can I show you our claim map?"

"Not so much of the Sir mate, OK? Trish is part of our team and that makes us all family. Please, I'd like to see what a homestead map looks like, we crack land open and get it ready but its rare for us to see what happens afterwards."

"Be my pleasure, si……Shane." Anderson unrolled his map and started to explain the plans he and his wife had evolved for their new land. As he did so, every so often, one of the two older colonists would ask questions about why they'd decided to do things the way they had. Anderson quickly realized that each question pointed the way towards a better way of doing things or a more logical layout for his proposed farm. By the time they'd finished, he guessed that he'd gained at least 10 percent in capacity and made the farm much easier to work.

"Anyway, that's it. The claim upriver from us is still vacant, we'd thought of buying it but I've allocated the money to building a solid ranch building instead. Automatic door closers and open-door alarms are on order, they'll be arriving from Earth soon I'm told. Ordering them was my first priority, don't want to leave a door open for a yellowbelly.

"Good move." Shane nodded in agreement. The threat of a yellowbelly inside a house was something nightmares were made of. That's why Tau Ceti houses were built on stilts and it was hammered into everybody, never, never, never leave a door open.. Even so, some settling families had neglected the precaution and gone to sleep with a yellowbelly in the house. They hadn't survived. That thought made Trish speak up.

"Father, your shotgun. Pump actions are a really bad idea."

Trish knew enough about guns to make her own technical judgments and criticize his? That was a hard thing for a father of a teenage daughter to get his mind around. "The dealer said they were the best?"

"And the most expensive. But double-barrels are better for walk-around protection. The danger with a pump is that you'll short-stroke it in an emergency. Not pull the slide back far enough to chamber a round and it'll jam on you. Double barrels give you two shots without problems and you practice properly, you can reload almost as fast as with a pump. But, getting the best safety gear, that was very wise."

"Ordered them as soon as we saw the safety broadcasts on television. But buying the safety gear hasn't left us enough to purchase that extra claim. We can put a deposit on it, but we've no way of paying the balance."

Joseph looked over at Trish. "Are thou thinking what I am?" Anderson looked sharply at Joseph, the formal use of 'thee' and 'thou' had returned to the language, as a private communication between lovers. One that others weren't supposed to hear and courtesy demanded that they should ignore if they did. But, he was Trish's father…. Before he could take that further, Trish cut in on him.

"Father, Joseph and I got a generous share of the southern continent bounty. Just over four thousand each. If we give that to you, that should pay for the extra land, shouldn't it?"

"It should, yes. But I can't take your money."

"It's family money father, and you know what the saying is about land, if some is good, more is better. Money's no use to us where we're going so we'll have to invest it anyway. What better investment than more land for the family?"

"Excuse my intrusion into your privacy Howard, but your daughter's right. Buying that extra land will make a big difference. Look, we can extend the orangeberry plantation along the river here. It'll also mean we can straighten the access road out, cuts its length by a third at least. That'll reduce your construction overhead. Can't see a downside to it myself. Is the communications system up yet?"

"It sure is. Anderson produced his telephone and dialed into the landbank records. "Holding is still unclaimed as well. If we're all sure about this?" Joseph and Trish nodded. "OK then, let’s go for it. But, you two, I'm putting this in your names, it's your money, you earned it so its your land. Or we call the whole thing off. Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Right then." Anderson put in his claim in Joseph and Trish's name and used his available funds to put the deposit on. "Done. We'll do the rest when we get back to the settlement. Now, let's go look at our new land."

[Calder]

Chapter 16
Planet Armstrong, Elpis Star System

"What a wonderful world!" The song ended as off-key as the rest of its rendition. If Armstrong had a intelligent species native to its continents, being made to listen to Chief Petty Officer Pertwee's singing would have been grounds for interstellar war. Fortunately for the peace of the known Universe (now a lot larger than it had been suspected only a few weeks earlier), there was no intelligent life native to Armstrong.

Which was fortunate, thought Commander Thomas. If there had been an intelligent life form on this planet, his CPO would already have organized a black market with them and probably sold off a hefty percentage of the unit's equipment. In fact, it was quite possible he'd managed both achievements without the presence of intelligent life. The ability of the British Chief Petty Officer to establish unorthodox and highly profitable business ventures was the despair of the senior ranks and the awed amazement of his peers. It was rumored that his Byzantine machinations had funded Britain's Special Boat Squadron for the past decade and he'd only been exchanged with the U.S. Navy in order to extend his operations to funding the rest of the Royal Navy.

Still, the words of the song were right, this really was a wonderful world. A welcome change from the dreadful devastation of Mossberg. Here, the skies were blue, a deeper, more intense blue than Earth's. That was a combination of a slightly thicker atmosphere and the different spectrum of light from Elpis. A hard white dot in the sky, about a quarter of the size of Sol when seen from Earth, Elpis looked like a diamond on blue velvet. The trees were green although the shade was subtly different from the equivalents on Earth; there was a tinge of blue to the leaves, again a response to Elpis's sunlight. Thomas breathed deeply, the air was fresh and clear, invigorating. In fact, members of his unit had described it as "champagne" so often he'd threatened to make using the term a court martial offense. It wasn't just that the air was unpolluted, there was a chemical difference that actually worked in human's favor. The oxygen content was up a little while nitrogen was down. The biggest difference was the inert gas content. There was a lot more neon in the air and a lot less argon, the total of the two being almost twice the corresponding total for Earth. The result was a fabulous display of Northern Lights that had entranced the SEAL team every night.

"Team, we're moving into the Colonization settlement soon, so its back to business. As usual, we'll slip in, just to make the point." And to keep us all sharp, thought Thomas with a certain degree of amusement. "then we'll brief the Ozwalds on what we've found. And we'll scrounge a good meal before heading out again. If they're on the ball down there, they'll be watching the ridgeline so we'll have to slide over it cautious-like. So spread out and move in."

It was traditional. The SEALs flowed over the ridge and worked their way down the slope towards the settlement. The television and filmshows had it all wrong, they didn’t move in jerks or scuttle from one piece of cover to the next. They never hurried, they just moved slowly, steadily, evenly. They avoided contrasts or sudden changes that attracted the eyes. As they went, they made a point of apologizing to their surroundings for the disturbance and made friends with the bushes and trees. They blended in, became part of the background, they were there to be seen but they did nothing to catch the eye. And because the eye wasn't caught, they weren't seen. Even as they slid past, just a few tens of yards away from the perimeter watchers.

Admiral's Briefing Room, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Elpis Star System.

"The situation is that we still don't know what is out there or why, We don't know how they got there or what they have planned. We don't know whether they know we are here or not. We don't know what or who they are. That makes planning a little difficult.

"This means that our first priority must be to learn as much about them as we can. A corollary to that is that we must reveal as little about ourselves as we can. Therefore, we will be pulling back the heavy ships, towards the asteroid belts. In the event of the aliens turning up, we go to full EMCON. We don’t radiate anything. We'll use full passive sensors to pick up what we can from their ships but we keep as quiet as possible. All communications to be burst transmission by tight beam. And only when screened from the alien ship or ships."

"Sir, what about the Colonists on the surface? And the SEALs?"

Admiral Theodore looked at the notes prepared by his staff. "You know the rule as well as I do. We don't leave our people behind, ever. So, the question is, if everything falls apart, how do we get them up? The MOL has two four-point docking modules. One on each is already in use so that gives us six. Our Carrier on-board Delivery shuttles can lift 50 people each at a real pinch. So we detach four of the COD birds from here, assign them to the MOL. If the situation looks like its dropping in the pot, they'll go down and evacuate the colonists. The SEALs can look after themselves until we get back and pick them up.. We'll assign a couple of Avengers to the MOL as well. There's no weapons on the MOL so they'll have to go out loaded. We can assume they'll be covering the transports so we'll make it a ground suppression load. Napalm and rockets.

"CAG, I want a full alpha strike on the deck. If aliens come, they'll come in a ship. So make it an anti-ship strike. I'll say again, we've no idea what we're up against so plan on the worst things you can imagine.

"Now, it may well be that all this is not necessary. If there are aliens out there, remember we still haven't proved there are, they'll probably be friendly. Hope so at any rate. For want of any better data points we can guess that they'll be much like us. If they've advanced to the point of space travel, they'll be curious, they'll want to learn about us. They'll be nervous, a touch paranoid and cautious. I can see that they'll be doing the same as we will, going passive, not giving anything away. Or trying not to anyway. I can see us both sitting there in total EMCON trying to pick up whatever cats the other lets out the bag. So, science staff, I want a series of things we can let them have. A sort of introduction protocol. Things that show us to be intelligent and rational. Chains of prime numbers or something like that. I think, I hope, that they'll be doing the same and with a little luck we can make contact. Friendly contact.

"Of course, if that isn't the case, if they are hostile then we don't shake hands. Make sure there is nothing down on the surface that can trace back to us, or more importantly to Earth. Check their computers down there for any such information. Most likely hostile scenario is that they tell us this is their planet and to get off. If so, we go. It's a nice planet but it isn't worth starting a war over. Any questions?"

"If aliens do arrive, do we launch Snarlers and Sentry's Sir?"

"Snarlers yes, Sentrys no. The EW capability on the Snarler is worth any risks using them might cause. The Sentrys only work well in active mode so we'll pass on using those. Anything else?"

"Is there any sign of the portals being used by anybody but us Sir? And are we going to find where they go?"

"Still no sign of them being used and the traces we've detected don't link up to them. Astronomy have been plotting star maps and taking the spectrum signatures of all the stars we can see for the databank. They've identified half a dozen stars that are bright enough to act as beacons. So, SAC crews, I want you to get ready to start exploring them. It might be that we can solve this mystery by gaining a little more information from neighboring star systems – if we can get to them of course.

Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Loop Orbit, Elpis Star System

"Now here's a question for you. Are we picking up more traces because we're learning what to look for or because there are more of them to pick up?" Captain Newman leaned back in his seat. He'd tossed the question off to his primary cockpit team, more to see their reaction than the answer.

"Because we're learning what to look for. And because we are looking for them, not just noticing when they happen. Like buying a new car, never notice a specific type when driving something else, get one and suddenly they're everywhere. And they're a lot more of us looking." Soo was bored, the traces had caused the Navy and SAC forces in the system to be reinforced. A carrier, four cruisers, six destroyers and eight SAC bombers, the latter on rotation. With the whole of the 305th Strategic Recon Group on call if needed. Tau Ceti was a full forward base now.

"This from the Lieutenant whose tactical appreciation score was three out of ten with the comment 'could do better'." Williams settled into his seat, comfortably waiting for the blast in response to his gibe.

"Beats your score Tony. You got three out of ten and the comment 'can't do better'."

"Children! Return to the question if you please." Newman pitched his voice so that he sounded like an indulgent father separating two squabbling infants.

"Sorry boss. Actually, I agree with Yelina. I think we've just learned to recognize what we're seeing and the simple fact there's more of us out here means we see a higher percentage of whatever it is that we're seeing. Any thoughts from anybody Captain?"

"The Brainiacs are stumped. Trouble is we've not got enough data to come to any reasonable conclusion. We're seeing hints and flashes and that's telling us nothing. Professor Raina Khan over on the Karmukh has a theory that what we're picking up isn't the source at all, it’s the interaction of the source and the surroundings. Like we can't see an infrared laser beam…."

"I can." Soo's voice was conceited.

"Silence in the peanut gallery. As I was saying, civilized people can't see an infrared laser beam but if its shone through a smoke-filled room, we can see the light that's scattered by the smoke."

"Still doesn't tell us what is out there though."

"No, although Yelina's guess that its some sort of exhaust trail is still the leading contender."

"Not bad for an uncivilized person." Soo had that annoying 'so there' tone to her voice. "A thought, Boss, has anybody plotted the positions of these sightings against the known plugholes in these systems? Might tell us if somebody's coming through."

"That's been tried, in fact Smolensk has been watching the largest group of plugholes for just that reason. Problem is, she's seen less activity than any of us and the plots of sightings don't correlate. Shiloh put them all through her computers, even took Tony's early sightings and retrospectively applied the vague positional criteria we've developed to them. There isn't a pattern and they appear not to be linked with the plugholes."

"You know what that means don't you." That annoying 'so there' tone was still there.

"Do tell."

"Either whatever – or whoever – it is we're spotting comes from inside this system or they use a different type of technology for interstellar travel. That's either a multi-generation ship or they have a faster-than light drive. The first would be so big we can't miss it and the second is impossible. So they must be in-system."

"Not bad, you see Yelina, you can do better than three out of ten."

"I would if the tests weren't so boring."

"Hmmm. Anyway, two faults in your analysis. One is that your suggested multi-generation ship could carry its own scout craft and the traces we're seeing are from those. That would mean the big ship is still out of range and we're just seeing the scouts. The other is we're a long, long way from home. How do we know the laws of physics as we know them still apply out here?"

Newman sat back, watching his cockpit crew debate possible changes in the laws of physics and their implications. A very successful 'School for Captains' he thought. Part of a Captain's job was to bring on promising young officers and groom them for promotion. Tony Williams would make a fine captain one day. Yelina Soo never would, she didn’t have the patience or the dedication. But then, Williams wanted to be an aircraft commander, Soo didn't. So everything worked out in the end.

Crew Quarters, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Loop Orbit, Elpis Star System

The alarm blasted through Yelina Soo's sleep, sending her spiraling in the zero-gravity as she woke up and threshed around. General Quarters, then her mind kicked into gear. Not General Quarters, Battle Stations. The difference was critical. Showgirl had two crews, normally. Aircraft commander, pilot and copilot in the cockpit, three people in navigation/astronomy, three in engineering and two in weapons. At general quarters, all eleven of the current duty watch would be in position, suited up and ready for an emergency. At Battle Stations, the entire crew, all 22 people on board took up their positions. Even as the implications sank in, she was into her mobile pressure suit and feeling her way down the port passageway to the cockpit.

As she floated into the bridge, the relief crewman in her usual station got out of her way, He moved to communications console, taking over his battle role of running the communications suite. As Soo strapped in, she saw Willams float in and take over his position. The relief crewman who had been in his seat also moved, this time to defense systems.

"Bridge crew at Battle Stations Sir."

Captain Newman looked around. Showgirl had come to full battle stations with remarkable speed, all the hours of patient practice had paid off. All five flight deck crewmembers were in place, only the seat for the Sixth Crew Member remained unoccupied.

"People, this is not an exercise. We've picked up more of the anomalous signals. Solid hits, for the first time we've had them long enough to get a good fix and even some data for the Brainiacs to work with. Keep watching, we're expecting more. Yelina, get ready to shut down the ship and go to full EMCON. Tony, use the passive systems to get a fix on anything that appears."

Minutes were ticking past. "Captain, I don't suppose that Tony's affliction could be infecting the rest of the fleet could it? Should we declare quarantine" Soo eyed her partner to see if he would rise to the barb.

"We can't do that Yelina." Williams was watching her out of the corner of his eye. "There are only 18 men on Showgirl and one of them is gay. We go into quarantine and you'll be chewing the instrument panel with frustration within a week.."

Soo looked sad for a moment "This is true." she conceded, somewhat reluctantly. Behind her the two relief cockpit crew looked slightly shocked. Like most very junior officers, they took themselves far too seriously and the mildly insulting backchat on the flight deck was out of their experience. If they'd looked closer, they'd have noticed that neither of the two protagonists had stopped monitoring their systems or operating their equipment. Nor had their apparent insults changed the smooth slickness with which they worked together. One day, the junior crew would learn to do the same. One day.

"Still nothing out there." William's voice was taught, expectant.

"It's coming though, I can feel it." Soo's hands were flying over the console, setting the systems up so Showgirl could go to complete EMCON with the flip of a single switch. "Still nothing Tony?"

"Not yet." He checked the comms display. The ships were communicating by compressed-burst tight-beam modulated laser, uninterceptable unless somebody was in the direct path of the beam. He guessed other ships had made the same preparations Soo had and their fingers were poised to shut down emissions as well. But, he thought with quiet pride in his partner, it was a certainty she'd done better than they had and Showgirl would beat the fleet into becoming an electronic black hole.

"Another hit! Solid, unambiguous hit! No doubt about it Sir, there's something coming in."

Almost simultaneously the secure comms system buzzed. Captain Newman took one look at the message, his voice taught. "All ships are reporting sighting. Execute EM……"

The ship blacked out, the lights on the bridge fading away so that the only illumination came from the instruments. To anybody else, Showgirl would have seemed to suddenly vanished, her dark blue-gray paint matched the background of space. Her metal-ceramic alloy skin, layered over the depleted uranium mesh of her primary armor, was quickly matching temperature to the surroundings. Her internal systems were cut down to minimum possible power requirement. Power generation meant waste heat and that was a problem. One that could wait though.

On her display, Soo plotted the latest contact. Almost as she did so, another one appeared. The computer joined the three dots with a long, red straight line. "Everybody get that projection? Whatever is out there, it’s coming straight at us."

Soo stared at the electro-optical image on the primary overhead display. It had taken only a minute of two to lock the long-range camera on the target she was tracking. Now, the image she had picked up was dimmed down to reduce stray radiation but the imagery was still distinct. She thought carefully, a precise and accurate description was essential. When she spoke, her voice was hushed. Everybody on board was keeping their voices down, as if speaking too loudly would give away their position.

"How would you describe that Yelina?"

"A poorly coordinated assembly of ill-matched spare parts flying in close formation?" she offered the suggestion with a certain degree of tentative diffidence, something quite unnatural for a Wolfen. Williams chuckled and Captain Newman nodded appreciatively.

"Very succinct Yelina. What do you deduce from it?"

Another few seconds of careful consideration. "They can't be using the portals Sir. That ship, it would be crushed by the gravity gradients. It looks even flimsier than our freighters. And they can't be spinning it to simulate gravity, she isn't symmetrical around her long axis."

"I disagree Yelina." William's voice was also hushed. "That disk section forward, they could be spinning it on its central axis. That would give them gravity up there."

"But why would they design it that way? It gives them all the problems of joining a spinning section to a stationary frame. That's a massive pylon for a complex joint like that. Anyway, I'm not sure the disk is a circle, it looks more like an ellipse to me. Finally, it’s the wrong proportion, it’s a very limited gravity area for the mass they'd be spinning."

"She's got you there Tony. One up to Yelina. Anything else?"

"She's big, about a quarter of the size of Shiloh. Can't see a flight deck though. I assume those two big cylinders on the sponsons aft are her engines. Bussard ramjets? If they are, they’re big. She's got a lot of engine power over there. No sign of weaponry that I can see, but then they'd say the same about us. If they could see us. Or are seeing us. What are your instruments picking up Tony?"

"She's radiating like a Christmas tree. Across the whole spectrum, including a lot of freqs we've never seen used before. Visible light, thermal, gamma rays up to long-wave radio and beyond. It's as if they're broadcasting their position."

"Are they Tony? Yelina's had her swing, what's yours?"

"I don't think so Sir." William's voice was hesitant. "They're searching for us. They've got two sensors operating, one is a beam search like our radar, something tells me it’s a phased array. Very long wavelength though. The other is some sort of field detector. I guess they create the field then pick up the disturbances if anybody moves in it. There'd have to be a minimum speed cut-off though. Otherwise they'd be picking up anything and everything. Lose the important signals in the noise. But I don't think they’re signaling us or trying to broadcast. I think they're just very, very sloppy where emissions control is concerned. The EW birds must be having a ball Sir, they probably think it’s Christmas, Thanksgiving and Saint Curtis's Birthday all rolled into one."

[Calder]

Chapter 17
Alice Summer Settlement, Planet Armstrong

"First priority is still the landing strip. We've got to get that up and running. How much longer?"

"About a week, Shane. Earth week that is." Not that it made much difference, the Armstrong "day" was only 40 minutes longer than earth's, it was just that there were 95 weeks to a year. That took a little getting used to. One of the hardest things was to get the calendar worked out so that it kept an accurate track of time yet felt comfortable for humans. Oddly, it was messing around with the week that threw humans off fastest. There were lots of explanations as to why but moving away from a seven-day week caused problems. So, on Armstrong, the hour, minute and week were all the same as on Earth but there was a 40 minute "witching hour" each day, after midnight, that made the times fit.

"That'll do. Try and get as many of the huts up as we can, get people into their own homes. Especially the kids." The settler group had a dozen youngsters who'd already settled down into their preferred pairs. There was something about settling that turned kids into adults fast. Or was it settling attracted the sort of kids who could turn into adults quickly? No matter, really, the result was the same. Few kids ended their teens single.

"Any chance of a shower and a meal for my boys, Team Leader?"

Shane spun around. The SEAL Commander was standing just behind and to one side of him and neither he nor Zed had seen him arrive. "Jeff, my mate, I really wish you people wouldn't do that!"

Thomas grinned apologetically and whistled. His SEALs emerged from where they had been standing, causing a buzz of disbelief to run around the settlement. They'd penetrated the perimeter without trying and were dispersed through the area.

"Jeff, how do you guys do that? It’s incredible,"

"Not really Shane, it’s a matter of equipment, the camouflage uniforms draw the eye away from us, it’s a matter of learning how to move so we don’t do anything that lets you see us. But most of all it’s a matter of respect. Respect the rocks, the trees, the plants, everything around you, and they let you blend in with them. Your aborigines and Maoris do the same, just like our Apache, and Lakota and the rest. Most of our instructors are from the Nations, one sort or another, I guess at least a third of my men come from the Nations or their equivalent as well."

"However you do it, I'm glad your on our side. Showers are up, tell your people to indulge themselves. We've got hot water set up. And we've got some barbies set up so we'll have a feast tonight. Ever tried barbied sprinter legs?"

Thomas shook his head. "We don’t cook too much when we're out. We warned you about the sleepytrees? They're quite dense to the south of here. Watch for sprinter skeletons on the ground. That's the key."

Shane noted it down on the pad all the settlers carried. Write it down, that was the rule, you learn something, write it down, never trust it to memory. That way, if the idea is forgotten, one can look up the note. Or somebody finds your body and can read the notes you made before something killed you. Sleepytrees, now there was an interesting species. Looked like a tree and had appetizing-looking fruit. Only, that fruit contained a hypnotic hallucinogen. If one of the grazers ate too much of it, they went off into a trance, happily dreaming whatever it was that sprinters considered peaceful and contented dreams. Only, while they did that, predators would close in and kill them and the uneaten residue of their corpses fertilized the ground around the tree whose fruit had killed them. A very rare example of a symbiotic relationship between a plant and a predator. The chemists back on the MOL were quite excited; the fruit of the sleepy tree had a lot of potential use as an anesthetic. To Shane, giving a patient a bowl of fruit salad before an operation seemed a much better idea than injections and gas.

"Run into anything else out there Jeff?"

Thomas shook his head. "Armstrong seems to be fairly benign. It's a friendly world, some planets are like that. Even the predators are reasonable here. They've already learned to stay away from us, that we're not lunch but if they try to change that, they will be. It's not like Tau Ceti, that place was hostile from the moment we landed and we're having to fight it every step of the way. Mind you, it’s probably better for us that way, a world gets too friendly and we forget who and what we are."

"You might think that way Jeff, your team's loaded down with enough weapons to take out an infantry battalion. We’ve just got shotguns here, not even a rifle. For us, a peaceful, friendly world is just fine."

"Weapons don't make much difference Shane, it’s the people who use them. Remember that old proverb 'Guns don't kill people, people kill people?' It’s true. Dangerous worlds build dangerous people, things get too soft and easy and people go the same way. There's those that say that happened before the Dark Ages. We had the Golden Age and that meant we had it too soft and too easy for too long. We got soft and when everything fell in the pot, we didn't react fast enough."

"Say again mate, that's OK for you but we're farmers, not soldiers."

"Agree, that's why we're here as well. Any Marines coming down to run guard for you?"

"Not presently. Nobody's found anything to justify it. You said it mate, this is a friendly world, even the predators keep away from us. First week we were down, couple of Kittys tried to get in and we shot them. Rest never came back. Anyway, you said your people wanted a shower?"

"Please Shane. By the way, you don't have a copy of Shakespeare here do you? I feel like a quiet read."

Waystation A10, Planet Jorden, Tau Ceti

In the greater scheme of things, a waystation was just a farm whose owners had taken a government grant to provide secure lodgings for travelers. It meant somewhere safe to get a meal, a room to sleep in and a secure stable for the animals. It was a nice sideline for the farmer and his family, for those who stayed at their ranch paid for using the facilities of course. The government grant just covered the additional construction cost of providing the extra secure accommodation. It wasn't as if there was much competition, for on Jorden, paying to stay at a waystation was preferable to sleeping outside. Too much chance of dying that way.

The six horsemen dismounted outside the waystation and lead their horses to the watering trough. Their leader reflected that things never changed, the scene here could have been typical of a frontier six hundred years earlier. Men in long, brown Missouri Dusters, split high at the back for comfort when riding, topped with a broad-brimmed hat to shield their skin from the sun – and to shade their eyes when trying to spot
enemies or natural hazards. Heavy leather chaps to protect their legs – and guns slung from their waists and on their saddles. Even the waystation looked as if it could have come from the frontier of six hundred years earlier. None of that was surprising, things were the way they were because they worked that way, six centuries of time and light years of space didn't change that.

"Welcome strangers. Name's Caulder. May I be of service to you? Offer you a meal and a bed?" The man's voice was friendly with just a hint of reserve. The leader of the horsemen would have placed even money there was a shotgun, at least, trained on them at this moment. A Beretta automatic shotgun at a guess, that was the recommended weapon for home defense around here. If there were kids as well, probably they had their guns out also. Children grew up early on a frontier.

"Thank you Mister Caulder, we appreciate the offer. Name's Henry McCarty, we're Regulators out on a swing through the neighborhood. Would enjoy staying with you."

The man relaxed. "Regulators always welcome out here, been a month or more since a patrol passed through." Then the name clicked. "Henry McCarty? Why, you're Billy the……"

"Fraid so…" McCarty's hand had dropped to the revolver at his waist as the man spoke, old habits died much harder than most people believed. But the identification was friendly, respectful and tinged with a little awe.

"It's an honor to have you here Sir, if you don't mind the intrusion into your privacy, my Greta will want to talk with you. When we decided to emigrate, she studied American frontier history in University, we thought that would help us understand what we were getting into. She got taken with your story Sir, still has your picture up on our wall."

McCarty laughed, shaking his head slightly. He would make another even money bet that the story of his life, as taught in University had very little to do with what had really happened. That was something every Daimones learned very early on, knowing what had really happened was quite different from convincing other people that the legends they had believed all their lives were wrong. Still, one thing he had to say. "You know that picture's printed the wrong way around, don't you? I'm not left-handed. Anyway, can we stable our horses?"

"Right this way Sir." Caulder lead the group over to the stable. The bottom six feet were tight-dressed stone sheathed with metal. A ramp lead up to the doors, tight fitting ones with more metal to reinforce them. The ramp itself was hinged and had to be lowered before the party could climb it. As Caulder opened the door, a grating, infuriating whining filled the air, one that made the ears hurt. It wouldn't go off until the door closed again. Yup, McCarty thought, the stable was secure, high standard. He crossed that item off his mental checklist. One of the functions of the Regulators was to make sure the waystations were run to the required standards. One of the reasons he was here was to make sure the Regulators did their job to the required standards.

Inside the barn was clean and dry, its floor clear so there were no dark corners for Yellowbellies to hide. The hay was sweet and good, another item crossed off the checklist. "You leave the armor on?" Caulder's voice was inquisitive."

"Yeah, better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it." Caulder had been referring to the sleeve-like armor that encased the lower half of the horse's leg. A mixture of leather and Kevlar, it could stop a yellowbelly's claws dead, long before the poison could reach the skin and do damage. The horses had learned, if a yellowbelly bit armor, it would hang on, in a futile wait for its victim to die. And that allowed another horse to kick the predator to death.

"Barn's secure Sir, best we can build." Caulder's voice was resentful.

"Don't doubt it Mister Caulder, it’s a fine building, does credit to you. But it’s standing orders for patrols, don't take the armor off until we're back at base. Horses prefer it that way as well." As McCarty finished speaking, one of the horses whinnied, probably coincidence, but he'd always thought horses understood more than humans believed. The group left them in the stable and left, the two men who'd been watching the open doors joining them as they did so. Then the doors closed and the irritating buzz stopped at last.

Caulder's wife had stepped out onto the porch by that time, the shotgun still held ready in her hands. He'd been right, Beretta automatic with a fifteen round cylindrical magazine. Only this wasn't something he remembered from his frontier. Women wearing pants. Much more practical than the long skirts he remembered from that time. And the high boots that protected legs from yellowbelly bites, they were different too. "Come on in Sirs, welcome to the ranch." Her voice was pleasant and welcoming but her eyes were scanning the ground and her hands never left that shotgun. Now, that was familiar, McCarty remembered the same wariness from settlers back on his frontier. Only then, the enemy had been Indians, not a deadly poisonous and viciously aggressive predator.

Inside, McCarty ran his government payment card through the charge system, paying the Caulders for a night's lodging for his Regulators. There was good food cooking, he could smell it and that made the ranch seem more welcoming. As Caulder had promised, up on the wall was the old familiar picture of Billy the Kid. McCarty nodded to himself, this one had been reversed from the usual reproduction so it was the right way around. Still, the legend that he was left-handed had died hard. Beside it was a framed quotation from President Flynn.

"The Bible says that greater love hath no man than that he should lay down his life for a friend. How much greater must these people's love for us be, that they should risk their chance at eternity for those not known to them except as their fellow countrymen?"

McCarty remembered that speech well, he'd watched it on television as President Flynn had revealed the existence of the Daimones to the American people. Nefertiti and The Seer had been planning the emergence of the Daimones from the shadows for years, they'd put together a carefully-orchestrated plan to achieve that. Then, at the last moment, The Seer had thrown the plan away and chanced everything on his sense of the flow. And he'd been right. Besieged by waves of disease, cut off and isolated, the Americans had desperately needed to know that somebody special was there fighting for them, they'd needed to know they had help and that people who had skills to match the worldwide catastrophe were looking out for them. By coming out when they did, the Daimones had been that talisman, they hadn't just won acceptance, they'd achieved something close to reverence. The Seer's judgment had been right, it had been a fleeting moment and he'd used it to perfection. There had always been a long American tradition of looking for a super-hero and, for a brief moment, the Daimones had filled that role. Later, people had realized they weren't super-people at all, just normal humans who happened to live a long time. By then, they were accepted and the first Wolfen had started to appear, taking people's minds away from the long-lived .

"With your permission Sir?" McCarty nodded. "Greta, look who's honoring our home." Caulder's wife looked curiously then her eyes widened with shock.

"Sir, I've always wanted to, I'd never thought I'd get the chance to actually met you. Whahha…." Her voice faded away in confusion.

McCarty decided it was time to be the gentlemen and rescue her. "Mrs. Calder, if your stew tastes as good as it smells, we can talk as long as you like for you and your husband will never get rid of us!"

"Why thank you Sir. It's pork stew, will that be acceptable to your men? I have some beefsteak if any don't eat pork?"

"Pork will be just fine Ma'am." Then McCarty affected to look concerned. "It's not the Mayor is it?"

Everybody burst out laughing. The next township on the road was Avalon, a day's ride down the trail. One night, a yellowbelly had got into a farmer's hog pen. It had killed three of the hogs but the rest had ganged up on it and stomped it to death. The Avalon townspeople had responded by electing the alpha hog as their mayor, granting it a permanent reprieve from the cooking pot. Mrs Calder wiped her eyes. "No, its not the Mayor. Just a piglet."

McCarty nodded and made a show of relaxing. There was a moral there though. Earth's animals were fighting back. Faced with predators, they fought. Just like the humans whose home planet they shared, and the result was that yellowbellies were already becoming a rarity. Too dangerous not to be killed on sight, they were being methodically hunted down and exterminated. They were learning something that other species had realized all too late. Threatening humans was a terminally stupid thing to do.

Alice Summer Settlement, Planet Armstrong

"How did you get to call this place Alice Summer Shane?"

"We got sick of calling places New this and New that. Alice Springs is in the middle of Australia and a couple of the team come from there. So we called this one Alice Summer."

The night had a distinct chill on it, enough so that people didn't stray too far from the camp fires and the barbies. Overhead, the stars gleamed down in a manner that reminded everybody who looked up just how far they were away from home. The skies were fuller than those over Earth, the stars forming patterns that still had to be named. If nothing else, the development of interstellar travel had killed astrology stone dead at last.

"You know, Shane, a few miles from here, once the lights are gone, the stars are incredible. You can't see them all because of the glow from the fires and the floodlights but once we're out, they're beyond belief. There's a thick band, like the Milky Way but much denser, that covers about a quarter of the sky. Once we go south, there'll be even more for us to see. Have you watched the moons merge yet?" Armstrong had three moons and watching them merge was a sight to behold. Given enough time, given the evolution of intelligent life on the planet, who knew what legends might have been caused by the spectacle.

"We've seen the one. Another due soon I think. How's your meat?"

"Sprinter? It’s great. Tastes just like chicken." There was a snort of laughter at the joke, an ancient one that went back before the Dark Ages. "I think I detect Earth's barbeque sauce though."

"You do mate. We brought it with us. We haven't had the local herbs fully checked yet so we're still in process of switching from our own supplies to what we can grow and catch here. Lucky we never tried Sleepytree fruit."

"Too Right. Has anybody found how long the coma from the fruit lasts? Assuming you don’t get eaten of course."

"Eat a whole fruit, you'll be out for a week. Literally. The Brainiacs up on the MOL say that there are no side effects they've been able to find but they’re foxed by its chemical structure. Lot of study needed yet but it looks like Sleepytree fruit will be our first major export."

"And as an illegal crop as a recreational pharmaceutical?"

Shane looked around warily. "Won't say nobody's thought of that but we're trying to keep the idea down. Could be argued that it’s a lot safer than most of the junk that's out there. Assuming nobody finds something unexpected of course. Don't want to give people bad ideas."

"You might find you'll have no choice on the matter, our experience has always been that if there's a market for something, somebody'll find a way to supply it. And a harmless hallucinogen? Big market I'd say."

Shane agreed silently, the discovery of the Sleepytree could be the snake in this particular garden of Eden. "Perhaps, we'll see. Don't think there's much interstellar crime at the moment though."

"Not much, but what there is falls under the petty smuggling heading. What worries me is your status down here. You've heard of the situation up top? There's an alien spacecraft coming in. We’ve got long range pictures of it.” Thomas pulled out his pad and showed Shane the long-range image that [ii]Showgirl[/i] had relayed down. “But, our people can't work out what it is. Shane, they haven't even worked out where we are yet, oh they've got theories and there's some strong candidates but nobody's worked it out. I'd really be happier if you had some Marines down here."

Shane's lips twisted as he thought it over. "Look Jeff, I'm not adverse to the idea, really I'm not. We've had Marine security detachments sometimes in the past, when we've needed them and sometimes, very glad of them we have been. There's nothing on this planet so far that's given us cause to need them. You said it, this is a friendly planet, we can sense it as well. If a minor problem does come up, we're not defenseless. We've got our shotguns. Some blasting explosive, we can put up a defense. And we've got you guys here. I don't want to brown-lip you, but your people are worth more than a regular infantry company. Between us, we'll be all right."

Shane paused for a second. “Let’s see that picture again. It’s familiar somehow, but I can’t place where. Why don’t your boys show it around? One of our team might be able to place it.”

"I’ll do that. Look, we can't always be around Shane. Our wanderings could put us a hundred miles away or more. And it’s not a threat from this planet that worries me. The stuff the Navy and the SAC birds are picking up on that alien ship worries me. Since this is a very attractive planet for us, reason suggests it’s going to be one for them as well. They might want it also."

"Yeah mate, but if they're smart enough to travel between the stars, they're not going to slaughter a bunch of farmers are they? They might kick us off but more than that? Look at it this way, what would we do mate? Probably reach some sort of deal. They'll do the same. And if they're really that bloodthirsty, well a handful of Marines won’t make much difference will it? If this were a hostile planet with vicious wildlife, we'd have the Marines down here like a shot but this one just isn’t like that."

"OK, you people are the experts on settling planets. I'll pull in a bit though so we're closer at hand. Teams Four and Six are landing soon, they can take over the long-range patrols. Now, has the next batch of Sprinter legs cooked?"

"Better than that Jeff; we've made your people some sprinterburgers. With real Earth mayo and relish."

[Calder]

Chapter 18
Alice Summer Settlement, Planet Armstrong

It was morning after the party and work had to resume. Joe and Trish had left the party late, after succumbing to their teenage side and stuffing themselves full of sprinterburgers. They’d probably over-eaten because they’d both felt worn out after the food and the dancing. Trish had even managed to snag a dance with the handsome SEAL commander which had left Joe feeling jealous. But it had been too wonderful an evening to let a little teasing get in the way, even if neither of them could quite remember getting home afterwards. In fact, they couldn’t really remember much of the later stages of the party at all.

"Thou art beautiful and I love thee."

Trish flushed and looked down for a second, she still wasn't used to having people use the intimate forms of address to her. Even though she and Joseph had moved into one of the huts set aside for young couples and were now one of the acknowledged partnerships in the settler groups. Actually, the hut wasn't all theirs, they shared it with another young couple. The walls were thin and, by unspoken but firm agreement, neither pair took any notice of any sounds that carried over. Looking up she saw Joseph was still smiling at her and she hugged him.

“Hurry back Joseph, I will miss thee." He smiled and nodded, then stepped out of their home for the day's work. The yellow sun, so like Earth’s was beating down on them and the day would be a hot one. Still, there was much work to do, there was a new field experiment going down today and he didn’t want to be late for the briefing.

"Everybody here?" Zed looked at the assembled group, four people to do the test, himself to supervise. "Right, well, you know the problem we've been having with leafbugs?"

The group nodded. The leafbug was a small, insect-like flying creature. It was harmless in itself but when it landed, it laid eggs on plants and those eggs hatched into a worm. The worm ate the plant roots and killed it. Quite a few of the plants on Armstrong had evolved defenses against the leafbug, one of which was a scent exuded by some of the bushes that grew in the grassland. That scent drove away the leafbugs, preventing them from laying eggs on those bushes and thus protecting the roots from the worms.

Today's experiment was to test a theory. The settlers had collected the leaves from the bushes and prepared an extract that, they hoped, would have the same scent as the bush. If they sprayed that extract onto earth crops, hopefully that would protect them from the leafbug worms. Of course, earth plants didn’t exude the scent the way local plants did, so the spraying would have to be repeated regularly. How often? Well, that was one of the things the colonization team settlers were paid to find out.

"People, we've planted some lettuce in the test areas. One of them is a control, it'll stay untreated, the others will be sprayed with various concentrations of the leaf extract. We'll be spraying daily. Another experiment run will take the concentration we recommend and spray at different intervals. The aim is to identify the optimum frequency and concentration of sprays; assuming, that is, that the spray works at all. Don't ask me who's got the control and who has what concentration of extract, I don't know. Only the people running the tests know that and they aren't the ones who collect the results.

"There's a sub-test going on as well. You've all had your medicals and you'll have extra ones as well. Every day in fact. Also, if you have any symptoms of ill-health, blocked nose, itches, headaches, anything, alert the medics immediately. If there are any ill-effects to using leaf extract sprays, we need to know them now. You all know how to use sprayers? Joe, you're relatively new at this. Anything you need to ask?"

"The spray gun delivers a controlled amount of extract I assume?"

"That it does, measured dose over the controlled area. You've sprayed before so you know the drill for using the spray guns. Anybody else? Right then, pick up your spray gun, go to the marked experimental area and get to work."

Joseph found a spray gun marked with a "four" pushed into his hands. Zed noted the number on his clipboard then gave him a canister marked with the same number. "Always use the same spraygun Joe, and don't use it for anything else. Your area is just over there." He pointed to a lettuce patch that was tucked away behind the main barn. All the experimental areas were well separated and in roughly similar locations as to light and formation. "Make sure you wash up thoroughly before doing anything else. Especially eating sprinterburgers.”

"One other question Zed, shouldn't scientists be doing this, not us? They'd do the experiments much better."

"They would, but they'd do them too well. We'd get the answers that apply to scientists working in a laboratory. What the people who farm this planet will need is answers that apply to a farmer working in a field. That's us."

Joseph nodded, that made sense. His spray gun was quite normal, a longish barrel with a conical disperser at one end. The weapon was double-barrelled in case the yellowbellies attacked, and was fitted with two pistol grips, one with a trigger. A container of propellant at the butt end and on top was an open receiver for the container of leaf extract. He'd know soon enough if the container had leaf extract or a control, the plants dying as their roots were eaten would tell him. One good thing, because the experiment involved measured dosages, he had a pre-loaded gas cylinder of propellant. Normally, he'd have to pump it up himself.. That was hard work, repeated often. Hard work wore him out and he was already very tired. Having a gas cylinder supplied made the job much easier.

A few yards away, Trish watched the briefing end and the experimental team break up to start the tests. It was time for her to go to work as well. She was turning into quite an accomplished scrub-nurse and the friendliness of the planet didn’t mean her work was unnecessary. Sprained joints, cuts, bruises, the odd broken limb, all were the day-to-day normality of a settlement camp. Perhaps if the weather stayed good, she could go and see her father, see how the new farm was working out. After all, the infirmary was empty at the moment so Maggie would be giving lectures on field first aid. What to do and how to do it. Then she could go to the swimming pool where she could stun everybody with her shimmerskin swimsuit again. Then she frowned, but Yelina would be there and Joe was too fond of her already. She fastened her belt, hitching up the holster containing her snake pistol. Armstrong might be friendly but it would be a long time before carrying guns ceased to be the norm. If it ever did. She quickly remembered the old saying, one that went back to before the Dark Ages. "You can be disarmed or you can be free. You can't be both."

EC-12D Snarler Electronic Warfare Craft "Phaedra', Drifting, Elpis Star System

"Are we picking all this up?" Captain Dirk Mollins was concerned. Phaedra was designed to ferret out the faintest signals in the spectrum, emitted by a target that was grimly determined to avoid detection. They'd never had to handle a situation where information was being dumped on them by the bucket load. Then he corrected himself, a bucket load defined a quantity, discrete and measurable. This was a downpour, a tidal wave, an avalanche of electronic intelligence.

"Not a chance Sir. We're getting what we can, storing more and looking at what we're able to. If they're trying to blind us by throwing too much data for us to absorb, then they're succeeding beautifully."

"Any messages or broadcasts?"

"Not a one Sir. Just this mass of emissions. It’s crazy, it’s as if they don’t know or don't care how much they're pushing out."

"That could be. SAC has never bothered too much about staying covert in their attack runs. They just blast through the defenses behind a wall of jamming and defensive missiles."

"But they're attacking something. These aliens are just, sitting there. We're tracking several different types of search sensor. None of which seem to be picking us up. Signal strength impacting our hull isn't high enough to pass detection threshold. It's almost as if they're trying to excite our systems to get a response. Like a secondary radar and they're trying to activate our transponders."

“Shiloh and her screen have tucked themselves behind a planet. Her group is our ace-in-the-hole." Mollins sat back and looked at his screens again. Some of the signals seemed out of kilter for deliberate electronic emissions. Stray signals. They couldn't be, surely? He fiddled with the controls, fined down on the emissions in question and did a double-take. Then he hit "record" for this was crucial indeed.

"People, you're not going to believe this. I'm picking up Tempest field energy from their computers. They can't have shielded them. Also, we're picking up stray signals and harmonics from their internal communications system. Make collecting that data top priority."

It was a common misapprehension that signals had to be decoded in order to provide useful intelligence. They didn't, often routing and destinations gave data that was just as fascinating. It was called traffic analysis and Phaedra's electronics suite was designed to be a virtuoso in the art. Mollins punched up the plan of the alien ship generated by the electro-optical camera system. The large elliptical disk forward, the cylindrical keel that flared out from underneath it, the two large cylinders on horizontal pylons aft. As a design it didn't really make sense but that was their problem not his. His fingers strayed over the controls of his receptor arrays, honing them down for maximum accuracy and sensitivity to the transient emissions of the alien's computer systems.

Red dots started to appear on the plan of the alien ship, each marking the source of the stray emissions. They multiplied, filling the plan and, as they did so, they started to form a map of the dataflow within the ship. After a few minutes, Mollins whistled gently to himself.

"People, the picture on the big screen. Shows the internal layout of the dataflow within that ship. Is everybody here seeing what I'm seeing?"

There was a silence followed by the distinctive squeak of somebody sucking on a tooth. "Do people really design ships that way Sir?"

"Looks like they do. Unless we're completely wrong or being fed some very misleading data that ship's got a single huge centralized computer and everything runs off it. I presume that concentration of signals up at the top of the disk is her command bridge. Foolish place to put it but there we are. There appears to be another, smaller control station aft, in the ship's keel. That's probably their backup or combat information center. Might be their engineering control room, no way to tell. And then there's sub-pathways all over the ship. But everything, and I mean everything, feeds back into that one central computer. And there's no backup or reserve system for it as far as I can see. If that computer goes down, they're screwed."

"That's insane. Who designs their computer systems, Bill Gates?"

It was a fair question. Even the small carrier-based Wildcats and Avengers had a fully distributed computer system with each sub-system forming an independent local area network. Cut one off from the network and it could continue functioning on its own until contact was restored. Which wouldn't be long, the system formed a net of nets and getting the isolated system back was just a matter of finding a path through the nets that worked. The big ships like Shiloh had computer networks that were a bewildering maze of connections and interlinks. Take down one computer, destroy it totally, and its functions could be transferred to another one. Every single system was backed up and multiply redundant. Mollins had heard that there were five levels of redundancy for every single system on board Shiloh. Nobody could take the computer system on Shiloh down with a single shot unless they totally destroyed the ship. And that would make the computers irrelevant

Nobody designed a ship with a single, centralized computer system. It just didn't make sense. Mollins made some changes to the display so that old detections would fade away after a short delay. That changed the picture a bit. Now, instead of the screen image being filled with red dots, there was a sudden blank as the old contacts were removed. Then it started to fill again as new ones were added. The display was different as a result. It was dynamic, moving, the pathways on the display pulsing as the information flow down them changed. It was almost as if the ship they were watching was alive, its computer communications and dataruns simulating a circulation system and nerves.

"It's almost as if she's alive." The operator could have been reading Mollins's mind. "Remember those old science fiction stories about civilizations where machines had replaced men? You don't think that's from one?"

Mollins shook his head, a lot more decisively than he felt. "Fiction is fiction and fact is fact. That ship is a fact. A badly-designed fact perhaps but a fact none the less. There's a crew over there."

"Their computer security must be a nightmare Sir. Look at that schematic. We can see the primary runs easily enough, but they've got branches running all over the ship. I'd say every compartment must have mainframe access. Either they've got a multi-level security system or it's possible for somebody anywhere on the ship to hack into the computer primaries and raise all kinds of hell. What kind of people design a ship where somebody can access a primary command loop from their quarters?"

"We don't need to be on the ship." One of the electronic systems operators was speaking, his voice almost dreamy as he contemplated an electronic bloodbath. "We can do it from here. The very fact we can see all this tells us their systems aren't screened properly. Sir, back before the Dark Ages, people could read the emissions from a computer from half a mile away. Or more. All we have to do is crack their coding and operating systems and we could run riot over there, Stick worms and viruses in, corrupt their databanks, steal everything in there. And that's what we could do if we worked at it. Even now, we can see enough of their system to blast it with broad-band emissions and completely foul their internal communications. Use a neutron bomb and we could fry their computer completely."

"We don’t have a neutron bomb."

"SAC does, Sir, and who knows what those babies out there have got tucked in their bellies. I've heard one of them has a gigaton sun-buster."

"SAC doesn't have such things. Biggest they've got is a 27 megaton device. And they very rarely carry those." Mollins thought for a second. "How long would it take for us to crack their codes and get a handle on what they're doing over there?"

"Don't know Sir, don't even know if it can be done. We can crack our own computers open in hours but an alien computer with alien language? No way to know. Nobody's ever tried, obviously."

"Well try now. Comms, have they transmitted any broadcasts yet? They probably can't see us, my guess is we're below their self-noise threshold but they must be able to see the MOL and the colony on the surface. Have they attempted to contact?"

"Not as far as we know Sir. Unless they're using some sort of comms that we know nothing about. No sign of that though, everything we're picking up is electromagnetic. If there was something there that we can't detect, we should be seeing holes where they're using it instead of electromagnetic – and we're not."

"Sir, something's happening!"

It was indeed, one of the main communications nodes on the ship schematic had suddenly thickened and brightened, revealing an increase in traffic down that pathway. A pathway that lead from what they presumed was the bridge on top of the saucer down to the read end of the keel. As they watched, the line gorged then faded.

"We're detecting new active transmissions Sir. She's launching small craft, half a dozen or so." There was a silence as the sensors tracked the emissions. "They're heading down to the surface Sir."

SEAL Team Two, Planet Armstrong, Elpis Star System

EMCON had an advantage, it meant nobody got in the way when the SEALs wanted to do something. In their eyes, EMCON was an eminently desirable state and one to which the human race, as a whole, should aspire. Especially this morning. Commander Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so tired. The party last night had been great but exhausting. He and his men had settled down in their barracks so tired that they couldn’t even remember going to sleep. In fact, they couldn’t even remember waking up on this hill. He finished reassembling his sub-machine gun. There had been so much debate over ammunition and its characteristics over the years. Should bullets be small and fast or large and slow? The SEAL's weapon was the obvious answer, it was both. An over-under arrangement with two barrels. The lower one fired a 15mm bullet, large and slow but powerful enough to inconvenience any unarmored threat. The SEALs had a joke about the 15mm "powerful enough to kill a charging elephant, or my mother-in-law - provided you hit her in a vital spot". The upper barrel was a 6.5mm high velocity barrel that spat bullets capable of penetrating any weight of armor a man could conveniently carry. There was an added feature to that barrel. Unscrew the stock and there were two additional lengths inside that could be screwed onto the top barrel. The engineering was perfect, when in place the extra lengths both matched up the rifling and cut off the gas recoil system so the weapon became a bolt-action. One that fired a depleted uranium dart that could penetrate a large – and classified – thickness of armor.

One of the nice things about a nuclear-powered economy fuelled by the plentiful supplies of fissile in star systems was that there was no shortage of depleted uranium for military use. The stuff was everywhere. Every one of his men carried five of the DU darts and knew how to use them.

Still, EMCON meant that whatever was happening up top wasn't known to the people down below. Thomas was wondering just what was going on up there. Certainly nothing much was going on down in the settlement, the place was deserted and everybody there still asleep. Then, he got a hint as to what was happening. Five white, wedge-shaped craft flew overhead, towards Alice Summer, a few miles away over the ridge. They weren't human, that was certain, the design was vaguely similar but not the same. They were shuttles, Thomas replayed them in his mind. Assuming the aliens were humanoid and about the same size as humans, fifty or sixty in each? He saw them coming to a halt and descend to a vertical landing. Just about where Alice Summer was.

"People move, now, I want us on that ridge. We have to see what's going on."

[Calder]

Chapter 19
Alice Summer Settlement, Planet Armstrong

“I’m just going back home, Maggie. Joe will be back soon and I’ll get him a cut lunch from the buffet before it closes.”

“A cut lunch? Uh-huh.” Maggie’s voice was disbelieving with a touch of friendly warning in it. She’d given Trish her gyno exam after she and Joseph had moved in together. She’d found everything was fine but ended it with a motherly lecture that concluded ‘you’ve got a new toy, don’t play with it until it breaks.’ Good advice but Trish really did intend to make Joseph lunch after his morning working on the new experiments. Still, she grinned rather guiltily at Maggie before leaving for her home. Just as she got there, the alien shuttlecraft swept overhead.

A few hundred yards away, Joseph had just finished spraying his test area of ground. It wasn’t precisely hard work, nothing like digging a ditch or plowing a field, but his arms ached from the strain of holding the spray gun and sweeping it in slow, regular patterns. He’d already removed the empty cylinder of leaf extract from his sprayer when the shuttles flew overhead. Trish would be back home by now, making their lunch. Joseph hurried off to join her, hunger mixing with anticipation and concern at the sudden interruption in the quiet routine of a farming settlement.

Facing the person who appeared to be the leader of the aliens, Colonization Team Leader Shane fought down a mixture of emotions. Irritation was one component because the shuttles had swept overhead and then landed vertically, surrounding the settlement. They’d ignored the landing strip that had been so carefully built, instead the shuttles had touched down on freshly-planted crops. Regret was another, the shuttles had unloaded about fifty aliens each. Most of them had stayed on the outside of the camp perimeter, surrounding Alice Summer but their leader and the rest had come inside and headed for him. He could guess what was coming. A message, “This is our planet, get off it. Now.” And they would. It was a beautiful planet, that was for sure, but there were plenty of others. If this one belonged to these people, it wasn’t worth fighting over, even if he couldn’t see the basis for their claim.

For all that, the primary emotion battering Shane at that point was apprehension bordering on real fear. Not because the aliens moving in were professional soldiers but because that was what they very obviously were not. Professional soldiers had discipline, they were trained. If their job was to move this colony off the planet they’d do it. Roughly, perhaps, but quickly and efficiently, with the minimum of fuss. These weren’t like that. They were ill-disciplined, they’d moved off the shuttles like a mob, no formation, no drill, no order. As one of his ancestors might have put it ‘they were a load of slovenly civvies.’ They were ill-trained and poorly equipped and they didn't really know what they were doing. Shane could make a shrewd guess as to what they were. A ship’s landing party, quickly assembled from the crew.

He could almost visualize what they were because the Australian Navy had once had something similar. A part of the crew would be designated as “security personnel” and given rudimentary training in weapons and how to use them. Each department head would be told to designate his best men for secondary duty as ‘security personnel’ and to make them available for such training as was available. Only, of course, nobody did assign their best men, instead they sent the ones they could spare the most easily. That meant the “security personnel” were the incompetent and the lazy, the ones who could not or would not learn, the ones who had no initiative and no common sense. Their officer would be the one who lacked the ingenuity and intelligence to duck an assignment that all his peers regarded as being professional suicide. The Australian Navy had solved the problem by creating a special rating “Seaman at Arms”, Marines in all but name. By the look of it, these people hadn’t.

People, that was the right word. They looked human, very human. In fact, they could walk in a crowd on Earth and nobody would notice anything strange. If one thought hard, perhaps a few things looked unfamiliar, the proportions of the body, perhaps, were slightly wrong, but not so wrong as to be unusual. But these people were unprepossessing to put it mildly. The men lacked the air, the bearing of soldiers, they looked more like civilians pretending to be soldiers at a fancy dress show. Assuming the parallel with humans was as close as it appeared, some the aliens were women and their appearance was. . . Shane was a courteous and gentlemanly person whose mind swung away from the obvious adjective. In the end, he settled for sleazy. He could guess why the original section commanders of those women had taken the first opportunity to ease them out from their command.

Their uniforms were gaudy, red and black with gold insignia, but also cheap and shabby. The uniforms were also useless, they provided neither protection nor concealment. It was as if the designers believed that the mere possession of a uniform and a gun were enough to convince the wearer and bearer that they were something special, something above the normal for a common man. The guns themselves were hardly impressive. They were energy weapons, that much was obvious, simply because they didn’t have a barrel. They didn’t have much in the way of sights either. In fact they were so badly designed it was probable that they couldn’t really be aimed at all. Shane’s guess was that they were spray and pray weapons, designed to fan an area more or less at random. The leader, Shane wouldn’t use the term officer since he’d met real military officers and this wasn’t one of them, had what looked like a pistol while the rest had a two-handed weapon. One without a stock or sights. Had these people been ruling the roost for so long they’d forgotten what it was to fight an enemy who could shoot back?

But it wasn’t the cheap, cheesy uniforms nor the weirdly-designed weapons that were making Shane nervous, it was that the man facing him was terrified. His eyes were darting about, as if he expected a vast horde of enemies to appear at any second. He was sweating, patches of dark under his arms and beads among his upper lip and forehead. This was a peaceful farming settlement, going about its daily routine. So what was it that this alien was so frightened of?

In a flash, Shane had an epiphany. The alien security officer is much more than just terrified, he is bewildered and out of his depth. His orders had been to meet this group and tell them that they would have to leave the planet. This was a rich system after all and it wasn’t fair for a few farmers to have all the resources here when his society needed them. After all did not ‘the good of the many outweigh the good of the few?’ I guess he has been indoctrinated with that since childhood and is unable to understand how anybody could not agree with him. Shane guessed that he’d done things by the book, brought a team large enough to help the people here pack their things and leave. He’d left the majority of his people outside the camp and just brought enough with him to make the point as he delivered his message. But, for some reason, Shane’s people couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand him. He’d given the message and it had obviously not been understood, so he’d repeated it, speaking slower and more loudly. How could they not understand him?

Looking around the group, Shane realized that if the commander of the aliens was frightened, one of his security people, out on the far left of his little group was petrified. He was looking at the civilians who surrounded him and it was obvious one thing was hammering on his consciousness, over and over. Shane could almost read his mind. These people were all armed. The badly designed weapons the aliens carried made it obvious that in his society, civilians were never allowed to carry weapons. The flow of thoughts from him were all too easy to understand, for pacifists had been saying the same things on Earth for centuries.What legitimate use had a civilian for a weapon? Civilians were too ignorant, too stupid, too irresponsible to be allowed to carry weapons. Only the authorities and their representatives were allowed to carry weapons, only they were responsible enough to be allowed arms. Those who represented the authorities were a better sort of person, more responsible, better fitted for the duty of bearing arms. Yet here everybody had one of those short, ugly pistol-like weapons hanging on his or her waist.

The force of the security man’s terror seemed to transmit the other parts of the lessons he’d learned since childhood. Shane could guess what they were Normal civilians didn’t want to be armed, didn’t want to have the responsibility of carrying lethal weapons. They were only too happy to give the monopoly of armed force to the authorities and their representatives. It followed that those who didn’t agree, who believed they had the right to be armed were not normal, they were mad, dangerous and needed treatment. These people, the ones all around him, the ones who were staring at him, they were obviously like that. They were armed so they weren’t normal. They were mad, they were dangerous. That also was part of the indoctrination he had grown up with, civilians were too unreliable to be armed, give them weapons and they’d get drunk and kill each other or start gunfights and slaughter everybody. Shane watched him shaking as his eyes darted from one of the strangers to the next, waiting for each one to suddenly go mad and start shooting at him.

Joseph Vaisie rounded the corner of the barn, moving quickly in his desire to get home and see Trish again. He saw the red-uniformed strangers in the village but they didn’t really register. He was a young man, going home to his lover after a hard morning’s work and that was all that mattered. He saw Trish at the door of their home, saw her wave at him and he lifted his spray gun and waved in return.

That was it! The security man knew it was going to happen and now, there it was. The people here were going mad and would kill him. He saw the young man bring his gun up to firing position and knew that his only chance of survival was to get him first. He squeezed the firing stud on his weapon, seeing the stream of light blobs flash out. Most went wild but one caught Joseph Vaisie in the middle of his body, causing him to glow brightly for a split second. When the glow faded, there was nothing left.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Trish’s voice screamed in frantic, unbelieving denial. She dropped the sandwich she’d made for Joseph’s lunch and dived out of the door, running for where the frightful thing had happened. The security man who’d shot her husband spun around. To him, the scream was a war-cry and the girl was running straight at him, attacking him. He fired again, the stream of light flashes cutting her down so she glowed, and died, and vanished.

Colonization Team Leader Shane’s mind burst into rage as he saw the two kids casually shot down. For no reason, just shot down as a display of frightfulness. When they’d met at his homestead on Tau Ceti, he’d promised her father that he’d keep an eye on Trish, look out for her and now she was dead. In front of him, the commander of the aliens was, smiling at him? In one smooth action he took a pace forward, drawing the snake pistol from its holster. He rammed the twin, stubby muzzles into the alien’s midriff and pulled both triggers.

It would be an open debate as to which did the most damage, the charge of buckshot moving at muzzle velocity or the blast of propellant powder from the unusually short barrels. It didn’t matter really, the effect of both was to lift the alien off his feet, into the air while the upper part of his body burst open. Before the wreckage hit the ground, another series of light flashes caught Shane in the back and he glowed and died and vanished.

The security man who had killed the Colonization team leader never got the chance to realize what he’d done. The sharpened edge of a spade may not be a classical weapon but it was one of unsurpassed effectiveness as many generations of trench fighters could testify. The alien security man whose skull was caved in by Zed Smeaton’s spade was just as dead as if he’d been killed by the finest example of the weapon maker’s art. He went down, his shattered head unrecognizable. Shane saw Zed drew his snake pistol, dropped the nearest security man with one barrel, winged another with the second then broke the weapon to reload. As he did, the flashes caught him and he glowed and died.

He’d been killed by one of the security women. As she turned to face the screams and shots that were already echoing a round the settlement, she felt a slam in her back. She twisted as she fell, seeing one of the farming women on top of her forcing her to the ground. Maggie, like most medics didn’t carry arms, but she had grabbed a length of surgical twine and it was now wrapped around the woman’s neck. Despite the blood running where it cut into her fingers, she heaved on the thin twine, watching it tightening around the red-uniformed woman’s throat, noting that she might be an alien but she still went blue and her tongue came out when somebody was strangling her. She felt the security woman’s heels drumming the ground underneath her then the flashes hit them and both Maggie and her enemy glowed and died together.

Shane remembered that once an ancient philosopher had remarked that people fight for many things. They might fight for their king, or their country, or their religion. They might fight for ideals, for the right to rule themselves or their right to rule others. They might fight for their families or so as not to look like cowards and shirkers in front of their friends. They might fight because they are a long way from home and the only way back lay through the people in front of them. Today his people were fighting for a different reason, one that, in some ways combined all of the above. They fought because they knew they were going to die, that they were to be massacred, that the only thing left to them was to bring down as many of the enemy as they could. Honor lay in selling their lives dear, in taking down the biggest possible honor guard with them.

And at first, he watched them do quite well. Against the red-uniformed aliens in their midst, they had the advantage of speed, of initiative and of having weapons optimized for close-in fighting. They’d also the advantage of surprise for the aliens at first couldn’t believe that civilians were fighting them. They also had the advantage of skill for it quickly became apparent that the aliens weren’t very good at this kind of brawl. Their weapons were poorly designed, suited neither as guns nor clubs. Against shotgun and spade, they were outmatched. It took the settlers only a few minutes of savage fighting to wipe the ones who’d entered the village out. Only that was what doomed them.

For the majority of the aliens had remained outside the settlement and now they ringed it off and were firing wildly into the people within. By accident or design they’d blocked off all the exit points so the settlers inside had nowhere to go. Perhaps, if the landing team from the alien spaceship had realized that, perhaps if they had been a military force, soldiers, not a collection of untrained cannon-fodder, they’d had realized that and ceased fire. Or at least given the settlers a chance to surrender. The redshirts were not and did neither. They continued their wild, indiscriminate firing, cutting down the people inside the settlement. Now, firing from the outside in, it was their flash guns that had the advantage and the balance of the fight swung.

Not all the settlers had close-in weapons. Inside one of the buildings, Shane had managed to get his prized possession from its locker. A heavy game rifle chambered for .700 Nitro Express. A big cartridge that could knock an elephant of its feet. The rifle had a scope and he had taken his position prone on a table, well inside the building. Only a fool stuck the barrel of a sniper’s rifle through a window. The scope showed an alien, his face twisted with fear and panic, the cross-hairs aligned on the center of his face. A squeeze, the savage kick of the rifle and the head just blew apart. Shane worked the bolt, cursing the time it took to work the action. He’d always sworn that semi-automatics were useless for sniping since the movement of the parts threw the aim off. Only now, he’d give anything for the rapid fire capability. He knew he should be shifting position after every shot but there wasn’t time for that either. The only chance any of the people outside had was if he could shoot enough redshirts on the perimeter to weaken it at one point, so the settlers could break through and escape.

So he worked the bolt and fired his rifle, the heavy cartridges turning his shoulder purple. He was also grimly aware that the bodies he was stacking up outside were forming a triangle that pointed precisely at his window. He was still loading and firing when a storm of light flashes enveloped him and he glowed and died.

SEAL Team Two, Planet Armstrong, Elpis Star System

“Move! Up on that ridgeline! NOW!”

The sound of gunfire was echoing across the planet, seeming to stun the usually subdued chatter of wildlife into complete silence. The twelve SEALs of Team Two abandoned any pretext of stealth and ran up the slope, spreading out to gain position along its crest. Almost instinctively, they went flat as they reached the ridgeline, avoiding being skylined and saw what was happening at Alice Summer a little less than two miles away.

Too far away to do anything, close enough to see everything.

The alien shuttles had landed around the settlement and the troops they had carried had formed a loose circle around the settlement. The white-clad figures in some kind of mechanized armor had ringed the settlement off. Now, they were firing indiscriminately into the defenseless community, their barrage of gunfire wildly uncontrolled. Through his surveillance system, Commander Jeff Thomas could see the unarmed settlers running, trying to find a way out or get to some kind of cover. They had no chance, they kept falling as the gunfire from the alien weapons cut them down. The aliens were firing at random, as he watched he saw some of their wild shots hit other aliens on the opposite side of the circle. Incompetent and unprofessional, Thomas sneered in contempt even as he watched his system quietly recording all the details of the Alice Summer Massacre.

“Jeff, we’ve got to DO something!”

“Nothing we can do, not now. We’re too far out. If we’d come in from the north we’d only be half a mile out and then we would be able to help but not now. By the time we get down there it’ll all be over anyway and we’ll have thrown our hand for nothing.”

“But.....”

“But me no buts. We stay here, we watch, gather evidence, make sure news of what happened here gets out.” Thomas watched, even as he spoke, the last few settlers went down. After that, the firings slackened for a few minutes then stopped. Typical he thought, panic firing at its worst. Below him, some of the aliens gathered into groups then started going into the undamaged buildings, taking out the equipment within. Lucky the computer banks had been sanitized he thought grimly.

“Right, they’ve murdered all the settlers, now they’re looting their homes.” A stir of rage went through the SEAL team at that. Thomas sensed it. “Keep it professional people. We’re not scum like those killers down there. We’ll do a sweep around the area, try and find any settlers who survived. There must be some, ones who were working outside the main settlement, hunting, whatever. We’ll locate them, get them to safety. That’s what we do, remember, find people and get them to safety. Only after that, do we avenge our dead.”

[Calder]

Chapter 20
Admiral's Bridge, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Elpis System.

“MOL, do we have contact with SEAL Team Two?"

"No, Sir. Four and Six are in contact, Two are off the air."

"Blazes, what is happening down there?"

"Admiral, I guess the only people who know for certain are the Aliens and we can't talk to them."

"Well, we'd better start then hadn't we? Order Showgirl, Belladonna and Phaedra to drop EMCON and contact that alien ship out there. I don't care how they do it, they can paint pictures with crayons on the hull for all I care, but get that contact established.

EC-12D Snarler Electronic Warfare Craft "Phaedra', Drifting, Elpis Star System

"Very good CAG. All frequencies. You heard the boss, power everything up, start transmitting. Just beeps, get their attention. Used the phased arrays to swing the signal across their hull in case they're reception is limited."

Phaedra wasn't actually built to transmit this way but her powerful jamming equipment could easily do the job. The operators switched from broad-band to spot frequencies then back again, searching for a combination that the alien ship would receive. The positional displays showed the two SAC bombers flare into life, their transmissions adding to the communications frenzy. Minutes passed, then suddenly, the video display over one of the COMINT operators seat flipped into life.

Bleep

Bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep

Bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep

"One, five, eleven. " Mollins thought for a second. "What frequency are they on? Can we transmit on it?"

"Low frequency sir, what the radio guys centuries back used to call long wave. We don't use it any more but we can cover it, just."

"Right, transmit bleeps on the frequency they just used . Three, seven and thirteen."

There was another pause, then an image appeared on the screen. A single beep followed by a symbol. It stayed there for a second or two, then there were two bleeps and a different symbol. Others followed.

"Those must be their equivalent of numbers. Looks like they use base ten mathematics just like us. I wonder if that means they have ten fingers? Do the same, give them our numbers."

Mollins eased himself out of the cramped EW section. The Snarler was a big bird by carrier standards but she was stuffed tight with electronics. Little room left for her crew. Despite that, they had made contact, it was time to report to CAG.

SEAL Team Two, Planet Armstrong, Elpis Star System

Some instinct woke Commander Jeff Thomas up, something that lay much deeper than the inexplicable clouds of gray fog that filled his minds and defeated every effort to think straight. It took a second for him to realize exactly what it was that he was seeing but when he did, reactions conditioned by long years of training cut in. His men were sprawled out along the ridgeline, mostly unconscious, the rest barely more than that. And there were kittys closing in for lunch. SEAL lunch. His hands moved almost of their own volition, aiming his sub-machinegun and squeezing off a short burst. The nearest kitty spun and went down, threshed for a second then died. The others fled but Thomas saw them stop when they reached cover and resume watching the SEAL team.

Thomas shook his head, trying desperately to clear the woolen fibers that wrapped themselves around every effort to think, entangling them, bogging them down in a snarled up mass of chaos. After trying to think for several minutes, he came to the conclusion that trying to revive the rest of his team was probably a good start. Shaking them, rolling them, trying to get them to respond, all took time and effort, things that he found unusually difficult. He managed eventually, getting his team back to some form of life and, in the process, getting his own brain back into some form of order. There was something bothering him, something he should be doing.

The red, flashing light on top of his communications system was the key. Somebody was trying to contact him. "Thomas, Team Two."

Up on the MOL, the radio operator punched his fist in the air. "Restored contact with Team Two Sir. But, I've never heard anybody sound this bad. Not even after liberty night in Olongapo."

Thomas heard the comment over the radio, he couldn't disagree, the way he felt was just about as bad as he'd ever been. He was still having trouble absorbing information and the words coming over the radio took time to process.

"Thomas, we need to have your reports. There are some things we need you to do."

That kicked his brain back into some form of gear and he staggered out a barely coherent report of what he had seen. "Sir, we will be running a sweep to see if we can find survivors of the massacre. The aliens, they hit us with some sort of gas." That had to be it Thomas thought. Some sort of knockout gas, or a lethal gas and they'd survived because they were on the edge of the cloud. "Once we're back in shape, we'll engage the aliens, harass them until regular units can get here."

"Negative Team Two, say again, Negative. Undertake no military operations without direct approval." There was a long pause, as if the speaker was debating something with himself. "In fact, do not discharge your weapons at all unless you are under attack. Do not initiate any actions other than those specifically authorized."

Those were unique orders for a SEAL team Thomas thought. Normally they were told what their objective was and how they did it was left up to them. He'd never heard of SEALs being given such restrictive engagement rules before. Mind you, the way his head felt, it was probably a good thing.

"Thomas, take your men down into the settlement, tell us what you see and make sure you film everything you see." Another pause, as if the speaker was trying to make himself say something he didn’t want to. "We may need the evidence."

It took time to get his men up and moving, more time to get them to move down the slope towards the village. As they moved, Thomas was painfully aware that the traditional SEAL flowing invisibility was gone, his men were staggering as if they were drunk, blundering down the slope, staggering into bushes and tripping over holes and roots. What had hit them? They were worse than the worst of recruits ever were. He also noticed that the kittys had moved out as well, following the SEALs at a safe distance. That was odd, predators usually take down weak and disorientated prey, not sit there and watch it.

The settlement was bare, empty. No trace of people, not the settlers, not the aliens. No bodies, nothing. He swung the camera around recording the scene. The only sound was calls of distress from some of the animals; they'd been penned up unfed and the cows needed milking.

"We're in the settlement. There's nothing here, the battleground has been thoroughly policed. All casualties removed. Buildings are intact."

"Team Two. This is crucial. Is there any sign of damage to any of the buildings? Scorch marks, impact points bullet holes? Anything."

Thomas looked around more carefully. At last, his head was beginning to work properly. "No Sir, nothing like that. Buildings all untouched, undamaged. That's not possible, the fighting we saw nearly wrecked the place."

A grim silence. Then the radio spoke again. "Commander be advised that the video you shot of the alleged fighting you reported does not show any hostile action at all. We're not certain what it does show but there was no gunfire, no fighting and no looting or destruction. Whatever happened down there, it’s not what you think you saw. Hold your positions, the MOL is detaching a shuttle to pick you up."

Admiral's Bridge, CVS-12 “USS Shiloh”, Elpis System.

"Sir. Message from the MOL coming in."

"Admiral, Sir, we have received video surveillance footage from SEAL Team Two." The voice on the comms link was confused and bewildered, even through the compression and encryption on the system. "They report that the colonists have been attacked but, Sir, we urgently recommend you watch the footage before you read SEAL Team Two's report. Transmission now."

The film was obviously taken from a ridgeline overlooking the Alice Summer settlement. The buildings were neat and clean, undamaged, but the colonists were laying down, spread over the whole site. They were clustered, as if some had gone down first and others had tried to help them, only to be stricken in their turn. That wasn't what riveted the attention though. The scene was dominated by five shuttles neatly lined up along the colony's landing strip. There was a line of people moving from them, methodically crossing the ground between the ships and the colony building. As they came to each colonist, a group would stop, stoop over the fallen settler, then carry him back to the shuttle. The video ran to its end, lost in the grim silence of the bridge.

Admiral Theodore read the transcript of the SEAL Team's verbal report with mounting disbelief. Halfway through, he looked sharply up and summoned Captain Madrick over. "Captain, what do you make of this." Shiloh's Captain read the report with equal amazement. "Sir, it’s like two totally different incidents."

"Exactly, let’s see that film again. Just what the blazes is going on down there?"

The film ran again. A minute or so in the Admiral gestured for a pause. "Zoom in on that group there, the ones around the first colonist. Right in, so we can see what happened. To me, that looks like somebody in a medical containment suit giving a vital signs check to a casualty before moving them. Anybody any input?"

"Agreed Sir. Comms, can we zoom in some more?" The colonist on the ground suddenly enlarged. Although the picture was getting grainy, it was obvious she was moving slightly, her hands jerking from side to side. It was also obvious that the figure in the pale orange containment suit was shining a light into her eyes. Checking for pupil reaction? "Sir, this sounds insane but that looks more like a rescue mission than anything else. It's certainly nothing like Team Two describes."

"My thoughts exactly. Do we still have the secure MOL link? If so put me on it. Thank you. MOL, I assume you've seen and read this. What's your thoughts, you're closer than we are."

"One overwhelming one Sir. If these aliens were the murderous savages Team Two describe, why are we still alive? This MOL is a sitting duck, we're unarmed, unprotected. They wouldn't need a flash gun to do it, a good, old-fashioned pistol would finish us. Yet, they've ignored us. Doesn't make sense. When we first saw the film, we thought they'd dropped gas on the colony and taken them prisoner."

"Sound hypothesis, fits what we see."

"Respectfully, no Sir. We've run that film over and over. Look at the animals in the background, cows and sheep. If the colony had been gassed, they'd be down as well. They're not. More importantly Sir, it’s easy just to watch the aliens as they move across the colony but look instead at the ones taking the colonists back to the shuttles. If they were taking prisoners, they'd just haul them over and toss them in. They're not doing that, they're carrying them over and putting them inside. Gently, carefully. I'd almost say respectfully."

"He's right Admiral. Sorry, I should have spotted that."

Admiral Theodore stared at the film, now running in a loop. "You did, you said it looked like a rescue. That fits. Only what is happening there? What is it that's laid out an entire Colony and apparently sent a SEAL Team insane?

Cockpit, DSB-36 “Showgirl” Drifting, Elpis Star System

"Right, so we have one of our electronic warfare birds teaching an alien spacecraft how to count, a SEAL Team on the planet that's apparently gone mad and an entire colony that appears to have vanished. Will somebody please tell me what's happening. That's a rhetorical question by the way."

"And Tony will have an answer for you, Sir, as soon as he looks up 'rhetorical' in the dictionary."

Captain Newman rolled his eyes. "You know, you two really should get married. Save you from making two other people very unhappy." There was a series of outraged snorts and some mutinous mumbling noises that he decided to ignore.

"The MOL is reporting in Sir." The comms operator had passed up the chance to get involved in the backchat. He'd already worked out that Showgirl's premier flight deck crew had privileges that the relief crew hadn't earned yet.

"They've established contact with the alien ship. It was a frequency problem again, the aliens didn't realize we don't use low frequency, we didn't guess that they did. Our systems just weren’t compatible and neither of us realized it. There was a tiny, tiny area of overlap that gave fleeting, ghost-signals. Our instruments picked up flashes of them and those were the contacts Tony was detecting.” Soo was working on the consoles, trying to reconfigure her sensors to work in the new frequency range. She wished it was as easy as the movies made it seem.

"Phaedra is teaching the aliens words from English. They started with numbers and moved to mathematical symbols and operators. The aliens are giving us their equivalents as they go. Phaedra is loading the whole thing into a computer, trying to get a translation program established."

"I hope they're keeping all the stuff out of their system. Last thing we want is to open up the main command system." Tony's voice was genuinely concerned.

"They've set up a stand-alone. No physical link to the ship's computers. I wonder what the aliens look like?"

"The SEAL Team camera footage doesn't show us much, Bipedal humanoids certainly and it’s a fair bet they have ten digits like us. The description from the SEALs say they are almost exactly like us but, well, we frankly can't put any faith in anything that they say at the moment. Not until we find them and try to work out what's happened down there."

EC-12D Snarler Electronic Warfare Craft "Phaedra', Drifting, Elpis Star System

"Five hundred words sir. We've got a working vocabulary now."

That was obvious What had started as transmissions of bursts of static had become steadily more sophisticated. Symbols had replaced beeps and words had replaced symbols. Now, words were beginning to be strung into sentences. As each step onwards had been achieved, it had made more possible, more words meant more complex ideas could be transmitted. Now, they were ready to take the next step. Image transmission.

"Is it ready?" 'It' was the standard plate that had been put on every deep space probe since before the dark ages. It showed humans, scaled and proportioned so the aliens could see what they were dealing with.

"Image transmitted." There was a long pause then another image started to form on the reception screen. Very similar to the one just transmitted, showing two figures. The earth figure was included as well, presumably to give scale. If the data was correct, the aliens were about the same size as humans but differently proportioned. Longer bodies, shorter limbs. Then the screen flickered again with the message "Wait One." It was obvious the aliens had learned their English from the military.

Then a picture formed, not a diagram, a picture. A head-and-shoulders shot of an Alien. The head looked unnervingly like a squirrel, with two large, dark eyes set at the side of the head. A triangular head terminating in two easily-distinct nostrils. Two small triangular ears set on top of the head. Even the fur was reminiscent of a squirrel, a brownish grey color and it seemed to cover most of the face and body. No whiskers sticking out of the nose though. Mollins was most struck by the eyes though, there was intelligence there, a lot of it. And humor, a lot of that as well.

"Oh Lord. All your nuts are belong to us." The irreverent comment from the ESM systems analyst caused a splutter of laughter around the crowded section.

"Quiet people. Have we got a picture we can send back?"

"That's not a picture Sir, that's a live transmission. Something like a webcam. We've got that, shall we use it?"

"Be rude not to, wouldn't it. Get it set up. Oh, and make sure none of our displays are visible in the picture."

There was a frantic scramble as the webcam imager was dug out of stores and set up, then another as any militarily sensitive material was moved out of sight. Then, Mollins sat in front of the camera and it was switched on.

On the receive screen, the alien image looked down at the image forming on its equivalent. Slowly, the alien raised both of its hands, turning them so the palms were facing the camera. "What does that mean?" One of the crew spoke very, very quietly. They'd suddenly realized just how momentous this was.

"He's showing us that his hands are empty, he's unarmed. That he doesn't want to fight." Mollins slowly repeated the same gesture, raising his hands and turning them so the empty palms faced the camera.

"How do you know that's a he?" One of the women crew members sounded aggrieved. She had a point, Mollins thought. He'd made the assumption he was speaking to a male.

"Good point, come sit by me so he, she or it can see us both." The woman sat by Mollins and to their delight the alien on the screen gave an unmistakable smile. One that kept the mouth firmly and positively closed. On the screen, the alien shifted to one side and was joined by another. One smaller and more delicate. Of course, that didn't solve the problem of which was which.

"People, time to introduce yourselves. Each one of you, sit in front of the camera, let them have a look at you. And will somebody please tell the Admiral what's going on here. Tell him we have just met Squirrel Nutkin."